by Ryk Brown
“So what you’re saying is, you have no idea,” Nathan said.
“What I’m saying is, we have little to go on.”
“Well,” Nathan said, handing the data pad back to Cameron and leaning back in his chair, “I’d feel better if we did know, but as Vlad said, if we run into trouble, we can always jump away and figure it out afterward.”
“Not exactly what I would call a plan,” Cameron said. “There are other points along the orbit from which we could jump, but they all added more than a week to our transit time, because the systems were so far away.”
“Assuming we manage to make it to our prime jump point, what’s our transit time to 72 Herculis?” Nathan asked.
“Just over two days. Once in the Barnard system, we’ll have two options. We can make several orbits around the sole gas giant in the system in order to adjust our angle relative to the galactic plane so we are on course directly to 72 Herculis, or we can jump out to any of three other systems and then make the adjustment there. It just depends on what we find in the Barnard system.”
“Anything in the Data Ark about it?”
“Nothing that we could find. Just the usual system and planetary survey stuff. There was never anything interesting enough in the system to warrant even a remote research outpost, let alone a colony. It’s doubtful the Jung have established anything there.”
“I don’t know. It’s only about six light years from Sol, so it’s not bad as a staging point for an attack on Earth.”
“For us, maybe, but for the Jung, it would take seven months to make the journey. Alpha Centauri is closer, has more resources, and already has an industrialized colony. I’m sure that’s why they took it first, to use as a staging point to attack us.”
“You’re probably right,” Nathan agreed. “So when do you want to get started?”
“Jessica is already down on the hangar deck suiting up.”
“That quickly, huh?” Nathan said, a bit surprised.
“To be honest, sir, I’d love to wait a week and use the shuttle, but cold-coasting through our own system while the Jung are about, and doing so with almost no propellant, makes me nervous.”
“You and me both, Commander.” Nathan looked at his watch. “I guess we’ll go as soon as Jess is ready,” he said, rising from his chair.
* * *
“Anyone care to tell me why you’re getting dressed in the hallway?” Nathan asked as he walked up to his security chief.
Jessica was standing near the port cargo hatch along with Lieutenant Montgomery and several Corinairan technicians. She was wearing something akin to the space-jump rigs they had used over Takara. This one, however, was considerably different. The torso was bigger and more complex. The entire rig seemed more like a miniature space ship, but with arms, legs, and a helmet.
“We decided to use the cargo hatch this time instead of the flight apron,” Jessica explained as two technicians slipped the jump rig’s main chute pack over her shoulders and secured it to the hard points on her suit.
“Why?”
Jessica shrugged, then looked at Lieutenant Montgomery. “Lieutenant?”
“When your people jumped over Takara, your orbit was considerably lower. That allowed the jumpers to use their maneuvering jets to move into position. The lieutenant commander will not have that luxury this time around. She will barely have adequate propellant to decelerate enough for her orbit to decay at the proper rate, let alone to adjust her entry angle. The cargo hatch is the most outboard exit that would work as a jump-off point. It is large enough for her to exit easily, and a very small blast of her thrusters will get her clear of the ship so she can begin deceleration.”
“I have a bet with these guys that I can get up enough speed to get clear by just running and jumping out the airlock,” Jessica said, a grin on her face.
“I see. So you think you can run with all that stuff on?” Nathan wondered.
“I’m gonna cheat,” she whispered with a wink.
“Gravity plating?” Nathan whispered back.
“Yup. I got Vlad to take it down to thirty percent in the airlock.” Jessica looked at the technicians, who were picking up her chest piece to bring over and attach next. She held her forefinger up to her lips as a signal to Nathan to keep her secret.
Nathan stepped aside to give the technicians more room as they positioned the chest piece and attached it. “This is a different rig than before,” he stated.
“Yes. The Corinairan rigs that your crew used to invade my world were based on an old Takaran design. At best, it had a sixty percent survival rate. This version, specifically designed for use by the Ghatazhak, has a ninety-two percent survival rate. We brought several of these with us from Takara.”
“It looks a little roomy,” Nathan said, noticing that the suit dwarfed Jessica somewhat.
“I guess the Ghatazhak are some big boys,” Jessica said.
“Yeah, so I heard. You’re not going to rattle around inside that thing, are you?” Nathan asked. “Could lead to a lot of bruising by the time you reach the ground.”
“I got it covered, skipper,” Jessica said. “I padded most of the empty space with all the stuff I need to take with me. I’ve got a knapsack, my old civilian NAU ID, and all my civilian clothes. I’ve even got that little number that I wore on Founders’ Day.” Jessica winked at him.
“Planning on seducing your way into the resistance?”
“Hey, a good operative plays to their strengths and uses all their resources.”
“Nice.” Nathan looked back at Lieutenant Montgomery, who looked perplexed by their conversation. “Are you sure this suit will work? Has it been tested?”
“While this particular unit may not have been tested, the design has been used in over one thousand combat jumps.”
“How many of those combat jumps were successful?” Nathan wondered.
“Ninety-two percent,” the lieutenant answered, puzzled as to why the captain would ask a question to which he already knew the answer. “Stop being such a mother hen, Skipper,” Jessica said. “Hey, they even reprogrammed the interface, so it’s in English this time.”
“Oh, then what am I so worried about?” Nathan said, jokingly. The technician stepped forth with Jessica’s helmet. Nathan looked at him. “Give us a minute.” Nathan waited for the technicians to step out of earshot before continuing. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Hey, I wasn’t kidding about that beach, you know. I brought my swimsuit as well.” Jessica saw the concern in Nathan’s eyes. “Jeez, you really do worry too much, you know that? It’s Earth, remember? I was trained to fit in and disappear into alien populations. Now I’m jumping into my own backyard. This is going to be easy; trust me.”
“You know I do,” Nathan said.
His voice was more serious than she could ever remember, and he was staring into her eyes. Jessica’s eyes darted back and forth, then her left eyebrow shot up. “You’re not gonna kiss me in front of all the foreigners, are you?”
“Just be careful,” Nathan said. “The Earth is probably crawling with Jung by now.”
“Hey, my plan is to avoid them like the plague,” Jessica said, smiling.
“Funny.”
“Just be sure to come back for me,” Jessica told him. “There’s still a whole lot of war to fight, and I don’t want to miss out on all the action.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” Nathan promised, stepping back.
“Not too quickly, Skipper,” she warned. “I need to work on my tan.”
Nathan stepped back farther to allow the technicians to place the helmet over Jessica’s head. He stood next to Lieutenant Montgomery.
“I’ve noticed a peculiar trait among Terrans,” the lieutenant began.
&nb
sp; “Oh really? And what might that be?” Nathan asked.
“A tendency toward bravado and misplaced humor when facing grave danger.”
Nathan looked at the lieutenant. This time it was Nathan’s eyebrow that went up. “I thought you said that suit design had a ninety-two percent survival rate.”
“Oh, it does. I was referring to the beach she expects to lie on,” Lieutenant Montgomery stated in deadpan fashion.
Nathan looked at the lieutenant and smiled. “You’re learning, Lieutenant,” he said, patting him on the back. “Make sure she gets off the ship without any problems,” he added as he turned to depart.
“Of course, sir.”
Nathan stepped up to Jessica one last time. “Good luck. Send me a postcard when you get there.”
Jessica gave him a thumbs up gesture as he left, and the technicians locked her helmet into place.
* * *
“Captain on the bridge!” the guard at the hatch announced as Nathan entered the compartment.
“How are we looking?” Nathan asked Cameron as he made his way down to the command chair.
“We’ve adjusted our attitude so the cargo boarding hatch will be on a direct line with the lieutenant commander’s preferred reentry trajectory,” Cameron reported as she vacated the command chair and stepped to the left to make room for Nathan. “We’ve also made our course correction and completed our deceleration burn. We’re now down to eight kilometers per second, which should put us at an altitude of just under four hundred kilometers above Earth when we jump into orbit.”
“Twelve minutes, right?” Nathan asked as he took his place in the command chair.
“Twelve minutes and eighteen seconds, to be precise.”
“Twelve minutes and eighteen seconds,” Nathan repeated. “All right then.” Nathan tapped his comm-set. “Nash, Captain. How are you doing down there?”
“I’m entering the cargo airlock now,” Jessica answered. “Give me a minute to depressurize, and I’ll be set.”
“Understood. Bring me some sea shells,” he added jokingly.
“You bet.”
“Comms, set general quarters,” Nathan ordered.
“General quarters, aye.”
“I’ll be in combat,” Cameron announced. She headed for the exit as the general quarters alarm sounded.
“I trust that our next jump is plotted and locked, Mister Riley?”
“Yes, sir,” the navigator answered.
Nathan looked at the main view screen that wrapped around the forward section of the bridge. In a moment, it would be filled with the image of the Earth, the idea of which made him nervous. Their last jump home had not gone as expected.
“All compartments report general quarters stations manned and ready, Captain,” Naralena announced from the comm-center at the back of the bridge.
“Very well. Mister Riley, jump us in,” Nathan ordered.
“Activating auto-nav,” the navigator reported.
Indicator lights on the helmsman’s console lit up momentarily. “Auto-nav is making final adjustments.”
“Jumping in five……” the navigator reported.
“Nash, Captain. Stand by to jump,” Nathan called over his comm-set.
“Four……”
“Standing by,” Jessica answered.
“Three……”
Nathan adjusted himself in his command chair, taking a deep breath and getting a firm grip, preparing himself for whatever happened when they came out of the jump.
“Two……one……jump.”
The bridge filled with the blue-white light of the jump flash, which disappeared a split second later.
“Jump complete.”
“Verifying attitude,” Lieutenant Yosef announced. “Jumper has a clear shot,” she reported a moment later.
“Jump complete,” the navigator’s voice announced through Jessica’s helmet comms. She pressed the button on the hatch control console with her left hand. The outer hatch to the cargo airlock parted down the center and quickly slid open, disappearing into the bulkheads on either side. Her eyes grew wide, her breath quickened, and her pulse rate increased at the sight of the Earth slowly spinning below them filling the entire hatchway. The planet was dark and mysterious, her night side lit with millions of lights on her surface clustered into groups that signified major population centers. She could see the Earth’s terminator line to her far left, as the Aurora headed along its orbit toward the night side of the planet. Jessica realized that jumping off the flight apron of the Aurora had been much easier. That time, she had followed nine others, and they had jogged out across the apron and leapt into the air, floating out and away from the ship. This time, she was facing the planet below. The edge of the airlock seemed much like the edge of an incredibly high cliff, and that wasn’t helping matters much.
“Nash, Captain… Jump, jump, jump!” Nathan’s voice ordered over the comm-set.
As if by instinct, and without any hesitation, Jessica rocked backward and forward three times, then went galloping toward the exit. The lower gravity made it easy to move, even while carrying over ninety kilograms of space-jump gear. It was ten steps to the open hatchway, but they went by quickly. As she reached the edge of the airlock, she leapt out the open hatch, sailing off toward the dark planet below.
“Jumper away,” Naralena reported. “Outer cargo airlock hatch is closed.”
“Threat board?” Nathan asked.
“Threat board is clear,” Mister Randeen reported from the tactical station directly behind the captain. “They haven’t spotted us yet, sir.”
“Lieutenant, how long until she’s far enough away that we can change attitude?”
“She’s far enough away, now, sir,” Lieutenant Yosef answered from the sensor station. “Another minute and she’ll be astern of us.”
“Helm, adjust attitude relative to orbit. Nose first, topside toward the planet. I want all guns in play.”
“Aye, sir,” the helmsman answered. “Pitching and rolling.”
“Twelve minutes to primary jump point,” Mister Riley reported. “Six minutes to first alternate.”
Nathan watched the view screen as the darkened Earth below them shifted position, moving around the edge of the view screen until it came to rest above them, a dark arc across the top, its distant day-side terminator approaching.
“Maneuver complete,” Mister Chiles reported. “Attitude is nose first, topside toward the planet.”
“I assume you’re keeping a running escape jump plotted,” Nathan said to the navigator.
“Yes, sir,” Mister Riley answered. “Currently keeping a running plot on the first alternate jump point.”
“Tactical, is Lieutenant Commander Nash out of our firing lines?”
“As long as we’re firing forward, yes, sir.”
“Start looking for targets, Mister Randeen. Anything forward of us that looks like a threat. We should be over the North American Fleet Academy spaceport, so check there. The Jung may be using it for themselves.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Contacts!” Lieutenant Yosef reported from the sensor station. “Coming up from the surface. Probable missile launch. Transferring tracks to tactical.”
“Confirmed,” the tactical officer reported. “Eight surface-to-orbit missiles coming from launchers on the surface. Time to impact: five minutes.”
“The missile warheads are nuclear, Captain,” Lieutenant Yosef added.
“That launch site is your first target, Mister Randeen,” Nathan said.
“More contacts! Coming up from the surface again, this time from behind us,” the lieutenant said. “Sixteen contacts. Transferring to tactical.”
“Contacts are interceptors,” Mister Randeen reported from tac
tical. “They should be within reasonable engagement range in six minutes.”
“Can we defend against those interceptors with rail guns?” Nathan wondered.
“Doubtful, sir. Based on the performance data we got from the Falcon’s encounter with the Jung in the 72 Herculis system, those interceptors are fast and highly maneuverable. We might strike a few on approach, but if they start maneuvering, our rail guns won’t be able to track them and stay on target.”
“Those interceptors are also carrying nukes,” Lieutenant Yosef reported. “Small, low yield, tactical-type warheads.”
“Those missiles are probably designed to penetrate our hull,” Mister Randeen advised. “The Corinari anti-ship missiles were designed the same way, with delayed detonators so they would go off inside the hull. They weren’t nuclear, but they could do a lot of damage.”
“Then it’s a good bet that Jung anti-ship missiles are designed to work just as well,” Nathan agreed.
“Would you like to launch fighters, sir?” Mister Randeen asked.
“Not yet, not until they get closer,” Nathan told him. “I don’t want our fighters to get too far away from us. Too much risk that they’ll get left behind.”
“But those missiles…”
“Wait two minutes, then launch the first group,” Nathan ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Mister Randeen answered, taking note of the time.
“Combat reports quads are locked on the missile launch site. Firing now.”
“There are three more missile sites ahead, sir,” Lieutenant Yosef reported. “The next one will be in range in one minute.”
Jessica drifted silently away from the Aurora as the ship began showering the first surface target with its rail guns. The only sounds she could hear were those of her own breathing and the occasional beeps and twirps of her space-jump rig’s control computer. The suit was so big on her that it felt more like a tiny spacecraft than a suit. It reminded her of the tiny booths that the technicians used to build spacecraft at the OAP. They had still been out there, working away twenty-four hours per day, right up until the day the Aurora departed.
