“There must be some way to dampen the shock waves,” she said.
“I’ll raise the E-shields, but I don’t think that’ll help much.” The ex-captain’s voice sounded strained.
“Whatever you can do, Uri.”
The noise worsened, despite the shields, as did the rolling sensation in Roche’s gut. Mali, lacking eyes of her own and therefore more susceptible to balance problems, looked decidedly uncomfortable. Haid had taken the precaution of fastening his impact harness. Cane, behind him, was as steadfast as ever—but even he swayed when a particularly strong wave shunted the ship in an unexpected direction.
Roche watched the seconds counting down on the big screen: 21... 20... 19...
The shock waves became inseparable, and the ship seemed to toss on the surface of a stormy sea. Red lights flickered on and off across all the boards, registering slight damage across the hull. Most would be repaired almost instantly by the tide of maintenance nanomachines swarming over every external surface of the ship, but the fact that they were occurring at all was disturbing.
Ten seconds remained.
Roche watched their destination creep closer. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hear over the prolonged groan surrounding them.
The lights flickered once, steadied, then flickered again.
“We have a standing wave in sectors G through K,” announced Kajic grimly. “Preparing to abort the slow-jump.”
Five seconds. Roche winced as the smell of ozone reached her nose.
Three seconds. On the main screen, the difference between the ship’s current location and its destination was measured in millimeters.
Two seconds—
“Aborting now,” said Kajic, the very instant artificial gravity ceased entirely. A siren began to wail a split second later. The lights flickered a third time as the drive drained power from the bulk of the ship to translate itself safely back into real-space. In the short-lived darkness, Roche actually heard the engines strain—a deep, regular thrumming coming from somewhere to her left. Their tempo was rapid but reassuringly regular under the circumstances.
Then the lights returned, unsteadily and noticeably dimmer than they usually were. Space twisted inside out, and the floor bucked under her feet. Her momentum tried to pull her forward, onto the floor and across the bridge. Gripping the chair’s armrests even tighter, she resisted the impetus with all her strength. To her left, Maii lost a similar battle and skidded on her knees into a bank of instruments. Even Cane staggered, clasping Haid’s shoulder to keep his balance.
The floor bucked again, this time in the opposite direction. Maii gasped in pain as she slid backward and collided with her seat. The bulkheads around them likewise groaned in protest.
“Uri!” Roche shouted above the racket. “What’s happening?”
“We are experiencing difficulty emerging from hyperspace,” said the Box, its voice amplified but calm—too calm for Roche’s liking. “I will act as an intermediary between Kajic and yourself for the time being. The ship is his primary concern at the moment.”
Another jolt almost cost Roche her grip. She reached behind and over her shoulder to fasten the seat’s restraint harness. “Are we going to make it?”
“I should think so,” said the Box. “The chances are very good that we will all survive.”
Roche was grateful for the “all.” The Box could endure almost anything, and had been known to assume the same indestructibility of its wards in the past. Cane, on the other hand, had already moved across the bridge to help Maii into her harness.
“We have damage,” reported Haid from the weapons station, his voice raised to be heard. “Lost some banks on the starboard bow. I don’t quite know what happened; looks like they’ve been sheared clean off. No pressure drops reported, though, and hull integrity’s intact.”
Roche concentrated on what he was saying. “What have we lost?’
“Hypershields in that area. Some A-P cannon. We’ll be able to compensate easily enough.”
“Good. We—uh!” The Ana Vereine swung to starboard, then down; Roche winced as her restraint harness cut deep into her chest. The thrumming of the engines rose in both pitch and intensity until it became a screaming—like the screaming of a mighty wind—
—she was falling—
—and nausea flared deep within her as the association with the dream made her feel impotent and therefore even more anxious.
The main screen flickered, attracting her attention. Abstract representations of their course swirled into increasingly complex shapes, then disappeared entirely, leaving nothing in their wake. White lines scattered across the screen, making Roche blink; then it went black again.
Without warning, the ship began to steady. Bulkheads settled back into place with a series of decreasing creaks. The screaming of the engines ebbed, losing the desperate edge that had contributed to Roche’s anxiety. The groan of tortured space faded with one last rending sound, then ceased entirely.
In the sudden silence, Roche didn’t dare ask the question.
She didn’t need to.
“We made it,” said Kajic, his voice from near Roche’s right shoulder clear and relieved.
“Yes,” echoed the Box, its voice oddly hushed. “We most certainly did.”
At that moment, the main screen came back to life. Blinding light filled the bridge, dazzling Roche until she managed to bring an arm up to protect her eyes. Compensators cut in an instant later, reducing the glare to more manageable levels. Through the gaps between her fingers, Roche peered at what lay before them.
“What the hell is that?” exclaimed Haid, preempting her own initial reaction.
A blazing yellow-white oval filled the center of the screen. At first she thought it was a sun, but the shape was wrong: it was distorted as though giant hands had gripped it at each pole and stretched it lengthwise. In addition, there were no flares or prominences, no hints of corona or sunspots. Just light, bright and unceasing, coming from something far too close for comfort.
There was only one thing it could be.
“It’s the point-source,” she said, directing her words at the Box.
“Precisely,” it replied, as she’d half hoped it would not.
“But we should be millions of kilometers away from it. I thought you were taking us to the edge of where the system used to be—”
“I did. Yet here we are, only a short distance from what appears to be the center. Remarkable, isn’t it?”
Remarkable? Roche echoed to herself. She could think of words to describe it, but that wasn’t one of them.
Before she could say anything, however, Haid’s voice broke into the conversation.
“We have targets!” he called. “Someone else got here before us!”
“Where?” she asked, instantly turning her seat to face his station.
“Two behind us,” he said. “One on the far side of whatever that thing is. Emissions suggest ships, probably Commonwealth, but it’s hard to be sure. There’s some sort of interference fudging our data.”
“They’ve seen us,” said Cane. “One of them is moving in to engage.”
“Launch base-line probes and broadcast our ID,” Roche directed, her heart pounding as she considered their options. To Kajic she added: “Uri, keep well out of their way until we know what they are and who sent them. We don’t want to intimidate them unnecessarily.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Haid shot back dryly. “I won’t be making any moves until you can prove to me there isn’t a clone warrior on one of those ships.”
Roche watched nervously as the view shifted on the main screen. Numerous tiny drones spread out in a circle away from the Ana Vereine, expanding their base line of observation and thereby improving the clarity and range of the picture. The third ship came into view, oddly distorted like the glowing object it had been hiding behind. It was hard to determine exactly what sort of ship it was, let alone where it hailed from; the image was of a warped white lin
e, burning bright with reflected light.
“Box,” she said, “can you figure out what’s jamming us?”
“There is no deliberate interference of transmissions in this region,” said the Box.
“No? Then—”
“Our sensors are being swamped by emissions from the point-source. It is extremely radiant in both infrared electromagnetic and Perez radiations.”
Roche blinked, surprised. Perez radiation was a side effect of a crudely tuned hyperspace jump, not what she would have expected of a seemingly stellar object.
Before she could inquire further, the Box went on: “Try looking for transmissions on the Eckandi emergency band. It should be relatively unaffected.”
Roche gestured for Haid to do as the Box suggested. Within seconds, a rapid pulse of sound from the speakers of the main screen indicated that the ship had detected a digital transmission. An instant later, text appeared on the main screen and the pulse became an audible voice:
“—ONLY WARNING. REPEAT: YOU ARE IN CONTRAVENTION OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF EMPIRES SECURITY ACT, SECTIONS 45, 63, AND 72. THIS AREA HAS BEEN QUARANTINED. LEAVE IMMEDIATELY OR PREPARE TO BE FIRED UPON. THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND ONLY WARNING. MESSAGE ENDS.”
The voice spoke with the clear, crisp tones of a machine, not a Human—but that hardly made its words any less appalling. Roche took only a second to absorb the implications of its message.
An ambush.
“Haid, Cane—move us away,” she said, thinking furiously. “Don’t do anything else unless I tell you. Box, signal that we wish to respond; see if you can initiate a dialogue—or even subvert the AI to let us go.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew it was unlikely the Box would be capable of doing this quickly enough. Nevertheless, she had to at least explore the possibility. “Uri, continue with repairs. Get that down shield back up as soon as you can. And Maii, find out what they’re doing here and who the hell sent them. I need to know whether or not we have a chance of convincing them to let us through.”
From her seat on the far side of the bridge, the reave shook her head. she said.
“What?” Roche swiveled to face her. “Why not?”
The reave’s voice was strangely muffled, as though her thoughts were coming from a great distance rather than only from across the room.
Roche frowned. Maii’s last comment was worryingly true, if perplexing. “Keep trying. I need to know how they found us and whether or not they knew we were coming. If De Bruyn sent them, we know we’ll have to fight, no matter what they say.”
“But if they weren’t expecting us,” put in Haid, “how did they know where we’d be? I thought we couldn’t be traced through a slow-jump.”
“They didn’t need to,” replied the Box.
Roche was reminded of the point-source on the screen, twisted as though viewed through a giant lens. The spatial distortion the Box had been monitoring was obviously even more severe than she had imagined: anything trying to enter the space where the system had been was forced to emerge at this point—the heart of the system, yet at the same time its edge.
“They just sat here and waited,” she said. “No matter where we tried to go, this is where we’d end up.”
“Precisely, Morgan,” said the Box.
“And the only way to get away from them is outward, away from where the system should be.” She slapped her hand palm down on the side of her chair. “Dammit. We can’t leave now, not until we know what the hell is going on!”
“I have convinced someone to let you talk,” said the Box. “The AI has put me in direct contact with the officer in command of the primary vessel.”
Roche took a deep breath. “Open the line.”
“Ready, Morgan.”
Roche tried to calm her nerves, then began to speak:
“This is Morgan Roche of the independent vessel Ana Vereine. We are traveling as a peaceful envoy under the authorization of Page De Bruyn of COE Intelligence. Why are you harassing us, and by whose authority?”
The moment she finished talking, the automatic broadcast ceased and a Human female voice took its place.
“COE Intelligence has no jurisdiction here,” said the woman. “I am Commander Bassett of the COE Armada vessel Golden Dawn with orders countersigned by General Ramage. My directive is to prevent all unauthorized vessels from proceeding any further into Palasian System.”
“Further where?” Roche shot back. “The system’s gone. And as for authorization, I just gave you mine. We’ve been sent by the head of COE Intelligence Strategy to study the situation here, and to offer what help—”
The woman broke in firmly: “Your help is not required. Should you not leave immediately, then I have been authorized to use whatever force is necessary to ensure your compliance. You have exactly thirty seconds.”
The vocal transmission ceased, and was replaced by the automatic recording.
Roche sat stunned for a moment, unable to believe what she had heard. Treachery she had learned to deal with, but not this blind, military farce.
“We’ve got confirmation on the ID,” said Haid. “It’s the Golden Dawn, and it’s an Armada vessel as she said. A destroyer, to be exact”
Not quite a match for the Ana Vereine, Roche thought to herself. But there were three of them.
“Maii?” she asked. “Can you persuade them to change their minds?”
Roche rubbed her forehead. On the main screen, the three Armada ships moved into position around the Ana Vereine.
“All shields to full strength,” she said, sitting upright in her seat. “Uri, how’re those repairs looking?”
“Almost there,” Kajic replied. “Another two minutes and we’ll be optimal.”
Roche glanced at the screen. The Golden Dawn’s half-minute deadline had expired twenty seconds ago.
“They mean it, Morgan,” said Cane, watching the screen with naked fascination. “They’re going to fire.”
Remembering the uncanny way he had picked the decisive moment during the battle for the Midnight, she didn’t hesitate.
“Uri, take evasive action. Haid, arm the disrupters. Cane, prepare to return fire on my command.”
“You’re going to fight?” asked the Box.
“Do I have any choice?”
“Of course you do,” the AI said.
“Well, what?” Roche snapped.
“You can turn control of the ship over to me,” said the Box.
Roche opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Why?” she eventually managed.
“There is insufficient time to explain, Morgan.”
“Try me,” she growled.
“I have deduced the exact nature of both the point-source and the anomaly, and in the process have verified the location of Palasian System. By giving me control of the ship, I can take you there in a matter of minutes.”
“So tell us where it is and we’ll get ourselves there.”
“Impossible, Morgan. Not that I am underestimating your abilities; there is simply too little time to—”
Lances of energy flashed on the main screen; static momentarily scrambled the picture.
“They’re firing on our drones!” announced Haid.
“Take reciprocal action,” Roche ordered. Barely had she finished when Cane began destroying the Armada’s own base line probes. Specks of light flashed in the space between the three ships, their brightness negligible against the fiercely burning point-source dominating the view.
“They’re tightening shields,” said Haid.
Roche’s thoughts went into overdrive. Tightening shields was a standard tactic in close space warfare. Any moment now, the attack would begin in earnest: the th
ree Armada ships against the Ana Vereine. Numbers were against them, but that didn’t mean that they would necessarily be overcome. Apart from the Ana Vereine’s technological superiority, it also possessed a number of armed scutters and shuttles in its docking bays; she could order the Box to launch these smaller craft to assist in the battle, and have Kajic employ the camouflage to make them harder to target. With so many diffuse targets to aim for, the outcome the Armada expected was far from certain. Still, the Ana Vereine was bound to incur some damage.
And if it prevailed, what then? They would be unable to return to the Commonwealth for certain after destroying three Armada ships while on a supposedly peaceful mission, and the matter of Palasian System would still be unresolved. If the Box was right, then it had offered her a way to avoid the battle and to reach her goal—both with one decisive move.
She had seen more death in the handful of weeks since meeting Adoni Cane than she had in twelve years of active service for COE Intelligence. The thought of still more on her conscience made the decision easier than she expected.
At that very moment, the Golden Dawn opened fire.
“Incoming!” Haid’s shout echoed through the bridge, closely followed by a juddering wrench as a full volley of flicker-bombs impacted upon the ship’s aft hypershields. Cane’s fingers played the weapons board like a virtuoso as Kajic swung the ship to bear on its primary antagonist. As the exchange intensified, violent discharges painted the space between the two ships with fiery colors of death.
“Box!” Roche called out over the sounds of battle: the shouts, the explosions, the roaring of engines. “Whatever you’ve got planned, do it fast!”
“Thank you, Morgan.” The AI’s reply was more gracious than Roche had expected, considering the moral victory it had won. To Haid and Cane the Box said: “Maintain a covering fire across the ship on the upper left of your screens. On my command, prepare to release proximity mines to prevent them from following.”
Haid frowned at the screen. The ship the Box had indicated was the one that had been hiding behind the point-source; even now, the white-hot object filled most of that segment of the screen. “Where the hell—?”
The Dying Light Page 5
