The Tau Ceti Agenda s-2

by Travis S. Taylor

  "Lieutenant Buckley, we've got the hatch door welded across the conduits, sir," the chief of the fire crew reported.

  "Good, now get the hell out of there."

  "Roger that, sir."

  "CO, MPA Buckley!

  "What is it, Mr. Buckley!"

  "CO, I need Nav to put in a coordinate location for the jaunt drive now!"

  "What's up, Mr. Buckley?"

  "I think I can give us one short jaunt, sir."

  "Roger that, MPA."

  "Air Boss! Hold those fighters!"

  "Uh, sir, they're out of the ship," the air boss replied sheepishly.

  "Damnit all to fucking hell, will nothing go right today?"

  "Ground Boss, get ready for rapid drop."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Okay, Nav, set jaunt coordinates to . . ."

  Ethylene glycol that was heated to about ninety degrees Celsius burst from the smashed valve across the engineering corridor and spewed hot coolant into the room like a rocket nozzle spraying propellant. The coolant spread out quickly and cooled to nearly safe temperatures. Boots, gloves, and coveralls would be enough to keep the engineering crew safe from the heated coolant leak. The system quickly drained and covered the floor on the port and aft side of Engineering about three centimeters deep.

  Fifty-three, fifty-two, fifty-one . . .

  "Goddamnit, Buckley. What the hell are you doing?" Commander Harrison screamed from two corridors down in the aux prop room. "I just lost all the tertiary coolant pressure to aux power."

  "Saving our ass, Benny, uh, sir!" he replied to the CHENG.

  "Cable is connected to the input coupler, Lieutenant!" EM1 Shah yelled over the noise to Buckley and shrugged. "What next, sir?"

  "Tie the other end of that thing around the pipe you just smashed with the BFW!"

  "Huh, oh! I see, sir." The engineer's mate first class tugged at the ten-centimeter-diameter power cable and dragged it across the deck, sloshing through the hot coolant pooled on the floor. The weight of the cable was too much for him to wrap around the conduit by himself, and two other firemen joined in his struggle with the thing.

  "Pull, Fireman's Apprentice Cain! Pull, goddamnit!" Shah shouted as the three men struggled against the cable. Shah had both his feet against the pipe and was pulling with both hands at the cable, tug-of- war style.

  "As tight as you can get it, Shah!" Buckley glanced over his shoulder at the EM1 and his team working at the cable. "Weld that son of a bitch into place!"

  "Yes, sir," Shah held onto the cable with all his might. "You heard the lieutenant, Fireman. Weld that son of a bitch down!"

  Buckley frantically rerouted power couplings via the board and through various DTM connections. His AIC was always four or five switches ahead of him, but he had to authorize each throw, unless he were incapacitated for some reason.

  Twenty-eight, twenty-seven . . .

  "Engineering! Any time now."

  "Almost there, Captain!" Buckley replied.

  "Lieutenant! Cable is in place, sir!"

  "All right, clear out."

  The fire crew cleared out, and Shah took Buckley's left flank.

  "I'm here if you need me, Lieutenant."

  Buckley was too busy to respond at that point. The clock was ticking down, and the board had to be reconfigured just right, or a power breaker could trip and the power would never make it to the jaunt drive. He reached up to the control board and tracked down the relay switch to set the power rerouting into motion. All of the system was going to dump a small star's worth of exotic energy through the various parts of the ship, and hopefully it would reach the projector. And, hopefully, it wasn't going to fry everybody along the way.

  "Here goes nothing," he said.

  The clock in Joe's head ticked to seven seconds as he finally depressed the relay switch, and lights on the board all turned red in sequence, like a stack of falling dominoes. Several of them physically blew out. Sparks began flying across the switching system, and several fires broke out on the back side of the computer controller rack. Had every alarm and klaxon not already been sounding in the ship, they would've most certainly started blaring then.

  "Uh, EM1 Shah, I suggest we get the fuck down!"

  "All hands, all hands! Brace for impact! Multiple hull breaches. Emergency crews standby! Second hit imminent in five, four, three, two, one . . ."

  "CO, CDC!"

  "Go, CDC."

  "We've got massive electromagnetic signatures forming above the teleport facility!"

  "I'll worry about that in a minute," the CO muttered.

  A bolt of electricity stronger than most bolts of lighting jetted out from the busted valve stem of the coolant flow loop through the large power cable and across the gap to the projector power coupling. The cable danced around, at first wildly like a poorly thrown jump rope, and then it was locked still with a snap by the extreme electromagnetic bottle created from the field lines of the system. The cable sheathing melted away, and the metal strands glowed bright like the filament of an incandescent light bulb. Then the cable vaporized into a plasma of metal gases, and the electric arc hummed and filled the gap between the conduit and the projector power coupler. The bolt grew white-hot with shades of violet pulsing through it. The projector began to whirl up. It whirled faster and faster as the gamma particles tried to breach the massive gravitational boundary of the event horizon within it. The exotic energy flow pulsed through the space-time bubble created within the field projector.

  It's working, Joe!

  Yeah, let's hope and pray it does quickly!

  Sparks exploded off of several systems as smaller fingers of the electric bolt tried to dance free of the electromagnetic bottle. Each time a bolt would strike a bulkhead, part of the metal would be vaporized, and more nasty gaseous fumes would be added to the room's already nauseous atmosphere. Joe's DTM still displayed the engineering drawing of the makeshift power conduit path that he had created, and along the path, he could see emergency systems being activated. There were fire alarms, secondary explosion alerts, loss of atmosphere, overpressure, and any other type of alert that was in the safety protocols of the ship's systems. Then there was a rupture along a maintenance corridor six decks down, and the power drained off to ground in the deck plating of the floor for a microsecond before the power supply ground-fault circuit interrupters kicked the breakers. The lightning bolt across Engineering vanished, and the whirling of the projector slowed to idle.

  "Maybe that worked." Buckley crawled up to his feet giving the engineer's mate first class a hand.

  "We're gonna need a shit load of mops, sir." Shah shook his head at the mess in the Engine Room.

  "Actually, Vineet, we need to run as fast as we can to sickbay."

  "Why, sir? I feel fine."

  "Yep, so do I. But in about five minutes, our bodies are going to realize that we've just been hard-boiled by all the extremely high energy x-rays that we were just exposed to, and we're gonna start dying of extreme radiation dosage." Buckley looked at his hands to see if they were swelling yet. He felt the need to grunt and clear his throat, which was definitely a bad sign.

  Start a clock, Debbie.

  Already did, Joe. In three minutes, it will be hard for you to keep walking. Now, get moving. Joe?

  Yes, Debbie?

  The ship is still here. Your father would be proud. Joe noticed that the clock for the mass driver impact was now at plus twenty-eight seconds.

  "Let's move it, EM1."

  "Jesus, sir. I don't wanna die!"

  "Well then, you'd better fucking hurry to sickbay."

  Chapter 14

  October 31, 2388 AD

  Sol System

  Oort Cloud

  Saturday, 7:17 AM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

  "Splash another one." Jack stomped the left lower pedal to stop his bot-mode spin and then toggled back to fighter, yanking his HOTAS hard right to pull back into some sort of formation with Fish.

  "Bank left, DeathRay
! Hard left!" Fish exclaimed over the net. "Fox three!"

  "Whoah!" he pulled back left on the stick, adding some throttle and slip and gritted his teeth into his mouthpiece as a mecha-to- mecha, QM-guided missile passed within a meter of his cockpit. "Fish, where the hell are you?" He could see her in his DTM but didn't have a visual on her.

  "Splash four!"

  "Holy goddamed hell, DeathRay, we're getting hammered!" Lieutenant Dave "Deadstick" Barber cried over the net.

  "Just think of it as a target-rich environment, Deadstick," Fish replied.

  "Roger that shit, Fish," Hula grunted, obviously working against a high g-load.

  "Fish, you with me, girl?" Jack scanned his DTM for more Seppy Gomers and caught a formation of four directly above them, engaged with Demonchild and his wingman, Stinky. He finally caught a visual of his wingman in his rearview mirror, as he toggled over from bot mode into fighter mode and pulled in tight on his right wing.

  "Roger that, DeathRay."

  "Let's help out upstairs, angels twelve, two o'clock high." He gave Fish a moment to catch the bogies in her DTM and gave a shout-out to Demonchild and Stinky. "Demonchild, Stinky, you've got four Gomers taking up the angle on your seven o'clock trying to gain advantage on you."

  "Roger that, DeathRay! Can't seem to shake these motherfuckers!"

  "Just hold 'em off for a few more seconds. We're coming." Jack pulled the stick back to his stomach and slammed the throttle forward against the stop. The Ares-T fighter plane rocketed upward, farther away from the planetoid facility into the higher altitudes of the engagement zone and deeper into the blackness of space. The acceleration of the maneuver pushed him against his seat with a steady six gravities. His wingman held tight right beside him.

  "What's the plan, DeathRay?" Fish said faintly against the added gravity.

  "Okay, Fish, we fly in there, and we kill those motherfuckers," DeathRay grunted.

  "Uh, great plan, boss."

  Candis, give me some scenarios here, he thought to his AIC.

  Roger that, DeathRay. Several flight vector lines started bouncing around in his virtual mindview, giving him flight paths of the Gomers and showing where he and Fish could converge on them. The red and blue lines twisted around each other like stripes on a candy cane— and showed that they could get the drop on the enemy fighters if they did it right.

  Pass it along to Fish.

  Done.

  "Okay, Fish, follow my lead and take a shot if you can get it."

  "Roger that, boss!"

  Jack kept the hammer down with the throttle full-forward against the hard stop. He jinked and juked through the trajectory that Candis had calculated, adding a touch of his own to it here and there.

  "Hurry up, DeathRay! I've been locked up!" Stinky said shakily.

  "Pull into the tightest, hardest left bank you can stand, now, Stinky!"

  "Roger that! Banking left!"

  Stinky's mecha pulled tight into a very tight, counterclockwise turn, throwing g-forces on him that pushed him to the brink of blacking out. Demonchild pulled up and across a firing solution for one of the Gomers.

  "Damnit, Demonchild, don't pull up! Flatten out!" Fish shouted.

  The enemy Gomer fired a streak of cannon tracers into Demonchild's fighter, bouncing it into an uncontrolled roll. Another streak of cannon fire blasted the power plant in just the right spot, causing the fighter to explode violently and too quickly for Demonchild to pull the ejection handle. He was killed instantly in a raging space inferno.

  "Fuck!" Jack screamed through his bite block. "Keep it tight, Stinky!"

  The three remaining Gnats banked through the turn, with Stinky trying to get a firing solution on him. The enemy fighters appeared hell bent on not letting him get away. As the three Gomers all pulled in tight behind him, their trajectories led them right across Jack and Karen's line of sight. A firing solution tone sounded in Jack's head.

  "Hold on, Stinky! Almost . . . Guns, guns, guns!" Jack's railgun cannon tracers cut in across space in front of the lead Seppy Gnat and tracked its trajectory until it flew right through the forty-millimeter cannon rounds. Several of the baseball-sized, high-incendiary, armor-piercing tracer rounds ripped through the empennage of the enemy fighter, scattering debris and gas vapors from it. "Guns, guns, guns!" He continued to fire until the lead Gnat broke up. Its pilot punched out at the last second.

  "I've got two. Watch number three!" Fish shouted. "Guns, guns, guns!"

  A blue-green DEG beam pulsed across the wing of the second Gnat, vaporizing important structural members there. Welds and composite-to-metal junctions delaminated from the blast. The high-g turn pulled the wing the rest of the way off, spinning it madly out of control. The fighter exploded with no sign of an ejecting pilot.

  The third Gnat pulled off of Stinky's tail and banked hard upward, but by that time DeathRay had managed a barrel roll over Fish putting him in behind the third Gomer. Jack brought the Separatist Gnat fighter through a firing solution that blinked on and off between yellow and red.

  "Guns, guns, guns," he said, and strafed through with his DEG missing. "Fox three!" He loosed a mecha-to-mecha missile that twisted and spiraled around until it hit home with a white ball of flame engulfing the enemy plane.

  "Hot damn! Take that, you Seppy Gomer son of a bitch!" Stinky cheered.

  "DeathRay, DeathRay, Madira!"

  "Go, Madira!" DeathRay replied.

  "Pull high altitude plan and go for the deck, ASAP. I repeat, all Gods of War are to give coverage on the deck!" the air boss ordered.

  "Roger that, Madira. Gods of War are hitting the deck!" Jack checked his DTM and visuals and didn't see an immediate threat. That only meant that nothing was shooting at him right that second, but his DTM was still filled with more red dots than blue. But their maneuvering upward had pulled them to the top of the "ball." He looked down toward the planetoid more than ten kilometers away. There was a buzz of air-to-air and surface-to-air combat going on between them and the deck.

  I guess we just plow through it, he thought.

  Only way to get there without getting your ass shot off, Candis replied.

  Right.

  "Okay, Gods of War, we are taking this fight to the deck. The groundpounders and the Demon Dawgs need some more backup down there. And maybe we can force this ball into a small bowl, if we're lucky." Jack pitched the nose over, pushing the HOTAS forward on both sides. The sleek fighter fell downward like a missile at maximum velocity through the spherical combat zone. As his speed picked up, the planetoid continued to fill more of his field of view until there was nothing left in it but the surface. Flashes of explosions danced around the cockpit as he pushed harder and faster to the surface.

  He and Fish tore rapidly by several close calls as enemy and friendly fighters both zoomed past with relative velocity of well over three thousand kilometers per hour. Then several glints strafing a blue line on the ground caught Jack's attention. His DTM quickly identified them and turned them red. Five Seppy Stingers were giving the tankheads a seriously bad day.

  "Fish, I've got five Stingers at about cherubs two off to the right. See them?"

  "Roger that, DeathRay. Want to teach them not to mess with our guys?"

  "Exactly what I was thinking."

  "Watch for AA coming off the ridge to the east," Lieutenant Commander Penikea "Hula" Moses warned. "Looks like it's coming just north of the line near the tankheads."

  "Roger that, Hula," Fish replied.

  "Okay, Fish, get ready to start bleeding off speed!"

  The plunge to the deck had accelerated their fighters to nearly twenty-seven-hundred kilometers per hour. There was no way that they could pull out of the dive at that velocity. Jack pulled the throttle all the way back and kicked in reverse thrust. He tracked the Stingers, formed in a V-shaped formation low on the deck, and gently added right slip and stick to veer his trajectory across the Gomer's flight path.

  "All right, Fish, let's pull in behind them and
start picking them off."

  "Roger that, DeathRay."

  "Pull out of the dive in four, three, two, one, now!" Jack pulled out of the dive, slamming his body into the couch at over ten and a half gravities. The force load on his body grew from the standard eight hundred and eighty-two newtons to well over nine thousand. In old body weight standards, he would have grown from a hundred and ninety pounds to over nineteen hundred pounds. The plane was actually pulling much heavier g-loading, but the structural integrity and inertial dampening fields protected it and the pilot from them. But maneuvers like this one taxed the living hell out of those systems.

  "Uh, uh, whoo," Jack grunted and squeezed his abdomen and leg muscles to fight the gravity and keep the blood in his head. The g-suit constricted on him like a giant anaconda crushing its prey and forcing blood back into his brain. Jack bit down on the bite block, holding on to the edge of consciousness and struggling to breathe as he pulled through the dive. The engines of the little snub-nosed mecha screamed against the turn and then settled back down as it leveled off at over eight hundred kilometers per hour, just two hundred meters off the deck. He looked over his right shoulder, and Fish was right on his wing.

  "Whooo! That was a fuckin' thrill a minute," she said.

  "Uh huh." Jack was still swallowing his stomach and barely managed the response. Stars raced across his vision as the blackness that was threatening to engulf him faded out of view.

  "Gomers in sight just below us, cherubs one."

  "Got them on eyeball. Going to missiles. Fox three!" Jack fired. A missile leaped from underneath the fighter and silently zipped across the sky, locking QM sensors onto the tail of the Stinger. The Seppy Gomer would never know what hit him. Jack and Fish had dropped in on them so fast that there was no way they would have time to react.

  "Fox three!" Fish shouted. Her missile twisted in only milliseconds behind Jack's at the next-to-last enemy fighter in the formation.