Mo crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, I doubt it would come to that, Cap.” He allowed the barest of smiles as he met his captain’s gaze.
“Thanks, my brother.” Sam clapped the Pataran on the shoulder. “I will make it up to you. Somehow.”
“Captain!”
He heard something in his navigator’s voice and turned to the viewscreen. A blip, larger than those indicating the asteroids, had separated itself from the asteroid field.
“Sipritz?”
“A ship, coming at us straight out of the Ming Ra, bearing 10 mark 18.”
“Identification.”
Mo checked his own sensors and shook his head. “No beam. And she’s too far away yet to get her size.”
Sam felt his gut clench. He didn’t need to see the ship to know who had just appeared to fuck up his day.
“It’s Vort. He knew we’d have to use the C5 to go anywhere from Madras and he waited for us.” His own blood had built the Master of the Octagon II; he knew her inside and out. “He’s armed to the teeth—heavy plasma cannons fore and aft; concussion torpedoes port and starboard.”
“And we won’t be able to outrun her,” Sipritz pointed out. “She’ll be between us and the jump before we can get there.”
“Battlestations, Ordman.”
“Aye, Cap. Battlestations.” The kid didn’t quite look so pale this time out. He’d be okay.
The alarms sounded, the lights flashed red and the various ship’s stations reported ready. Sam stepped down to his seat in the center of the horseshoe-shaped conn between and just behind navigation and helm and waited for Kwan to call from Engineering.
Within seconds the pad lit up. “Captain.”
“Kwan here, Cap. Are you seriously considering taking this ship into battle?”
“Nice to hear your voice again, too, Stephen. Good job getting us a new matrix. And, yes, I’m afraid we have no choice. It’s either that or let ourselves be blown into stardust.”
“The jump is right there!”
“And the enemy is in front of the node. Would you like to come up to the bridge and play captain while I take over Engineering?”
Silence. “No, Cap. We’ll do the best we can down here.”
“You always do, Stephen. Bridge out.”
At the observer’s station, Gabriel shook his head. “Is it always so calm around here when you’re rushing to your destruction?”
Sam glanced back at him. “No. We’ve had a lot of practice lately.”
“Should I be somewhere else?”
“Stay where you are. You’d only worry if you were in your cabin.”
The captain could have known the closing distance by the instruments on the console below him, but he asked anyway so everyone on the bridge could hear. “Range, Sipritz?”
“Eighty-five thousand kilometers and closing fast, Cap. Bearing now 15 mark 21.”
On the screen, he watched the approach of Vort’s ship, like some gathering storm about to break over their heads. They were still several minutes out of weapons range; he had time to use his brain, rather than his raw instincts, to find a way out of what was sure to be a sweaty, bloody death for the men and women who trusted him. This was his fault, after all. Vort was coming after him. It wasn’t right that his ship and his crew should have to pay their captain’s debts to a lowlife, cheating scum like Drew Vort.
He would have offered himself up as tribute, but it was too late for that. Vort was out for blood, and he wanted every drop. If they fought head-to-head, the ’hawk would lose. She was missing too many pieces, her speed too slow, her weapons crippled, her reserves hovering close to zero.
Sam stared at the viewscreen. The three asteroids hung in the vast space between his ship and Vort’s, too small and too few to afford any real protection along the route to the jump node.
But what if their destination wasn’t the node at all?
“Sipritz, give me a course that will put those asteroids between us and the Octagon as quickly as possible.”
The Mper looked back at him. “But, Cap, that course will take us wide of the jump node. We’d have to circle back to make the jump—through the Ming Ra.”
“The Ming Ra is where I want to go right now, Sip. As fast as you can get me there.”
There was an audible gasp from half a dozen throats on the bridge, then silence. “Uh, aye, Cap,” the navigator finally acknowledged.
His second-in-command stepped down to stand by his elbow and spoke quietly. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Vort won’t have the patience to wait me out. He’ll follow me into the Ming Ra, but his crew won’t be able to handle it. We’ll have the advantage of skill and experience in there. And before you even ask, yes, I got this from an old Earth media mix.”
Mo stood and stared at the viewscreen.
Sam looked up at him. “Aren’t you going to argue with me?”
“I would if I had any alternative to offer. We’re clearly no match for the Octagon. Guerrilla warfare in an asteroid field seems almost sane.”
“Course laid in, Cap,” Sipritz said. “Ready on your mark.”
“Helm, full—er, three-quarter ID. Ot, you’ll have a shot at them from the starboard cannons before we pass to port of those three rogues. Be ready. And give me split viewscreen.”
He got acknowledgment from Dartha and Ot and the screen split to show both the comp simulation and a sensor compilation of what was going on outside his ship. Sam studied the screen and gripped the arms of his seat as he waited for the Octagon to come into range. It didn’t take long.
“Sixty thousand klicks and closing.”
“All hands brace for incoming fire.”
Lines of blue laze fire spit from the enemy ship, rocking the Shadowhawk like a succession of violent waves on a stormy sea. Anyone standing on the bridge was tossed to his knees. Alarms blared and the familiar battleship smell of smoking electronics and overloaded ventilation systems filled the air.
“Evasive maneuvers, Dartha. Keep us out of their sights as much as you can without reducing speed.”
“I’ll do my best, Cap.”
The next series of shots glanced harmlessly off the aft and starboard shields.
Ot danced in his seat. “If we could turn another 15 degrees to port, Cap, I could fire back from the starboard cannons.”
“Not yet.” Sam knew they were taking a beating, but they needed speed. Deviating from their course now would cost them the chance to make the Ming Ra.
“Concussion torpedoes incoming.” Mo’s voice was without emotion. It always was when the news was dire.
“Brace for impact!”
The ’hawk shook from stem to stern as the torpedoes, two of them, struck her amidships. Sam knew her shields would have taken most of the impact, but from the feel of it, the shields had collapsed under the assault. They were vulnerable now, her belly exposed.
“Mo! Shields!”
The XO shook his head. “Down to 20 percent on the starboard aft quarter. Still have 40 percent on the starboard fore quarter.”
“Dartha, show them our asses long enough to fire rear cannons.”
His helm was turning the ship even as he spoke. “Aye, Cap!”
“Ot, fire as we bear.”
“Aye, Cap!”
Sam felt the thud of the cannons firing through his bones and watched on the screen as the Octagon was forced to take evasive action. “That should keep them off us for a minute. Resume course and get around those asteroids. Keep up the pressure, Ot.”
“Aye, Cap, firing as we bear.”
The cannon laid out fire as Dartha took them in a tight outer loop back to their course; the Octagon veered off its forward trajectory to intercept them. But the rogue asteroids loomed ahead and to starboard. Vort was impatient, his crew inexperienced, but he wasn’t stupid. If he wanted to keep the Shadowhawk from taking that jump, he would have to stay between the rogues and the node. That would give Sam the protected route he needed to the Min
g Ra.
But he had to reach the shelter of the asteroid cluster first. “Hit him again, Ot! We’re almost there!”
Laze fire from the ’hawk’s starboard cannons lit up the Octagon’s port shields. Return fire shattered what was left of the fore starboard shields, rocking the bridge, nearly knocking Sam out of his seat. He pulled himself back into place and looked up at the screen. The big rocks of the rogue asteroids loomed into view, filling the sensor half of the screen.
“Reduce magnification, Mo. I’ve lost him.”
“Magnification 200, Cap.”
“I have him at 89 point five mark seven, Cap.”
“Good. Fast as you can on that course to the Ming Ra, helm.”
Dartha allowed herself the tiniest shift in gaze in his direction. “Aye, Cap.”
Mo was at his side again. “These rocks are orbiting in a flat plane, you know. They’ll only protect us as long as he doesn’t come over or under them.”
Sam reached down to his own console and switched the screen to aft view as they began to pass the rogues. “He won’t have time. He’ll want to protect that jump node, and we’ll be gone before he comes after us.”
But Vort had other ideas. Just as they began to gain distance from the shelter of the rogues, a stream of laze fire splashed against the largest of the rocks and blasted it into fragments.
Sam had time to shout “Aft shields!” mere seconds before the first of the pieces hit them. The ship bucked and shuddered under the assault of dozens of projectiles, large and small, the aft shields flaring like a supernova.
“Dartha, get us the hell out of here!”
“Trying, Cap!”
“Aft shields are down forty percent, Cap,” Mo reported. “Make that fifty percent.”
“Ot! Use the aft laze cannon. Target the largest fragments and fire at will.”
“Aye, Cap. Firing.”
Sam watched rock after rock explode just before it reached his shields. The Octagon had backed off, closer to the jump node, waiting for them to make a break for it. At least that part of his plan was still working.
“We’re outrunning the worst of it now, Cap,” Sipritz told him. “Passing point of no return for approach to jump node. Approaching the Ming Ra.” The navigator sounded as if even now she expected a reprieve.
“Continue on present course. All possible speed, helm.”
“Aye, Cap. Steady as she goes. Three-quarter ID.”
Sam ignored the false cheer in Dartha’s voice. Instead he increased magnification again and watched his aft sensors to see if Vort would take the bait.
“Encountering outriders in sixty seconds, Cap.” Sipritz looked up at him. “Orders once we’re inside the Ming Ra?”
On his sensor screen the Octagon remained motionless, hanging in space just outside the jump as if Vort had decided simply to wait out his foolishness. On the computer sim-screen, blinking lights clustered like Ordian phosfer flies, indicating thousands of asteroids milling in destructive paths around them.
“Find a large rock a few hundred klicks in and get in tight. We’re going to play a little hide-and-seek.”
The sounds of his bridge crew identifying a likely asteroid behind which to hide and delicately weaving a path through the tumbling chunks of iron and ice faded into the background. Sam Murphy had eyes and ears for only one thing now. And after what felt like an eternity of waiting, he finally saw what he’d been looking for: the Octagon left her post at Jump Node C5 and came seeking him in the Ming Ra.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lainie shuffled slowly along in the serving line, so nervous her recycled-fiber tray clacked against the metal sliders where it rested. She studied the gap-toothed woman ladling out the slop that passed for food in the prisoners’ mess. The server was the woman who had given Ray the shiv—wasn’t she? What if she wouldn’t agree to help them again? Lainie had no choice but to risk asking her. Rayna couldn’t stay in that hole any longer. The Thrane had already had too much time to do his work.
Her heart threatened to break out of her chest as she drew even with the woman and held her tray up for the food. “B-brilly.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and her hand paused mid-ladle.
Lainie kept her voice low and tried to make it look as if she was still moving. “Rayna’s in trouble. We need your help.”
Without a word of warning the server poured the full ladle of stew over Lainie’s hand. The hot, gelatinous mess shocked Lainie into dropping her tray with explosive impact. Those near her jumped back, the guard at the end of the line came running and Brilly came out from behind the line, brandishing the empty ladle.
“You clumsy vlitz! What in the name of Portal’s balls is wrong with you?” She reached Lainie before the guard and cuffed her hard enough to make her ears ring. Then, while Lainie cowered at her feet, unsure of what she would do next, Brilly reached back over the line to exchange her ladle for a towel from one of her co-workers. “Get the line going. I’ll take care of this.” She turned to address the guard. “I’ll deal with her. Just make sure this wasn’t a distraction for anything else.”
The guard looked as if he hadn’t thought of that and scurried back to his post. Lainie would have smiled if her arm hadn’t still been burning where the hot stew had scalded her skin.
Brilly tossed the cloth at her. “Clean up that mess, you clod. And there’ll be no supper for you tonight.”
Lainie’s stomach growled. She supposed there had to be a price to pay for getting Brilly’s help—if she was going to get any help.
“Who the hell are you?” Brilly’s voice was so low, Lainie could barely make out the words.
The question was unexpected; Lainie said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m the bitch you just maimed for life.” But when she realized the woman might actually slit her throat because she didn’t recognize her she straightened up fast. “I’m Lainie, Rayna’s friend from the Shadowhawk. I’ve been with her every day. Don’t you remember?”
For a long moment, Brilly stared darkly with no sign of recognition. Then, “What’s happened?”
“Neko put Ray in Solitary until he could pin the Thrane woman’s murder on someone else. He’s done that, but now he’s disappeared. We need to get her out of there. Ray thinks the male half of the Thrane team is here to blow up the factory.”
Brilly grunted. “That will be a little difficult for him to do from the infirmary. He’s still recovering from his little fit on the factory floor—Vagellan’s fever or some shit.”
“Oh.” Relief flooded Lainie’s chest. “That’s good then. And Neko?”
“Gone. Or dead.” She gestured at her charge and raised her voice. “Hurry it up, girl! I have work to do.”
Lainie made a show of cleaning the floor, though there was not much left to clean. “What about Rayna?”
“I’ll meet you at the Solitary block two hours after lights out.” She grabbed Lainie’s collar and hauled her to her feet. “Now get out of my sight before I decide to kill you!”
“Kwan, I need power to those starboard shields.”
“And as my sainted mother used to say, people in Portal’s Hell need to cool their burning feet.”
Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. “Are you telling me there’s no chance of getting them back at all?”
There was an extended silence on the other end of the comm. Sam waited while his Chief Engineer sorted his priorities.
“Our power reserves are below critical, Cap. If we can remain at stationkeeping for ten minutes, or find a way to avoid using weapons altogether for even longer, then, yes, I can get the starboard shields back. Otherwise, keep your port side to him.”
“Understood. Captain out.” Sam stood up and found his pathway on the Cap walk. Ten minutes would be an eternity; even Vort could find them before then.
Gabriel watched him with dark eyes and a somber expression. “Time is not on our side, amigo.”
“No.”
“But surely Vort will run ou
t of patience soon?”
Sam shook his head. “Depends on how good his sensors are.” The Shadowhawk sat in near darkness, emergency lights only providing the barest glimmer of ambient light, the lights of panels and displays dimmed down to a minimum, voices hushed and comms blocked to prevent giving away their position. “But he won’t go home without me. He’ll start blasting rock at random before he does that.”
Gabriel might have smiled. “That I believe.”
Long, slow minutes ticked by as the sensors tracked the progress of the Octagon’s search on the viewscreen, now nearer and every muscle on the bridge tensed, now farther and every breath was exhaled in relief. Four minutes. Five. Sam began to think that perhaps they had a chance.
“Power reserves are coming back up, Cap,” Mo reported. “We’re at 60 percent and rising slowly.”
“Thank you, XO.” Once the power reserves were at 75 percent, the damaged shields could be re-engaged without endangering engines or life support. Of course, full reserves would be ideal, but what was that about people in hell wanting what they couldn’t have? Though Sam wasn’t a religious man, he was praying now: Just a few minutes more.
“Cap, we’re starting to drift away from this rock.” Dartha, at the helm of his ship, looked to him for orders. “Should I risk a burst of the thrusters to keep us behind it?”
Sam’s hand curled into a fist. The screen showed the Octagon was headed away from them. Still, she was close, too close. She would be on them in a blink if they used the thrusters.
“No. Let us drift. We’ll just hope the Octagon gets a little further out before we’re forced to use the engines to avoid slamming into a mulaak rock.”
“Aye, Cap.”
Six minutes. Seven. And now they were fully exposed in the space between hunks of eternally rolling rock. The shields would hold off the smaller rocks—at least, the functional shields would. But the only way to avoid being smashed to bits by the larger asteroids was to navigate using the thrusters. His helm was sweating just looking at the screen. Sam would have to engage the engines soon.
“Mo. Reserve status.”
“Seventy-two percent.”
Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3) Page 27
