Starship

by Michael D. Resnick

  “Well, of course it wouldn't, not if they're trying to stay undetected,” said Val. “You need my Captain's code.”

  “What the hell is a Captain's code?” asked Sharon. “I never heard of it.”

  “Every Starship Captain has one,” said Cole. “Or at least every Captain should. Let's say that the enemy boards the ship and takes it over. The ship is approaching the fleet, or just your fellow pirates as the case may be. You've got to be able to override the enemy's commands or they'll kill your friends and allies. Every captain knows how.”

  “It's not in my records,” said Sharon. “Come to think of it, neither is yours.”

  “It's the one code that's never written down or locked in a data bank, for obvious reasons,” said Cole. “If the enemy, or a turncoat, can find it, it's no damned use.” He turned to Val. “What will the Pegasus do if you transmit your code?”

  “Nothing,” said Val.

  “Nothing?” he persisted.

  “You're just talking about sending the code, not giving it any orders?” she said.

  “Right.”

  “Then I stand by my answer,” she concluded. “Nothing.”

  “How will you know the message got through?”

  “The ship will acknowledge receipt of the code.”

  “By subspace radio?”

  “By whatever means the message was transmitted,” said Val.

  “So if you radio it from the Teddy R, it'll send its acknowledgment back to the Teddy R?”

  Her eyes widened in comprehension. “Yes.”

  “Give that code to Sharon.”

  “Not Christine?” asked Val. “She's at the main transmitting station.”

  “No, she's going to be too busy tracking the three Muscatel ships.”

  “But you want to send it right now?” asked Val.

  “Hell, no. We're about to hightail it out of the system. We'll send it in about four more minutes.”

  “I don't understand,” said Val angrily. “Are you going to help me take my ship back or not?”

  “Not when we've got three other ships that are going to do it for us,” said Cole. “Sharon, when you get the code, send it on a tightbeam to Moyer. I don't want it reaching the Pegasus, wherever it is, and triggering a response to us.”

  “Got it,” replied Sharon.

  “Then tell him to make contact with the Muscatel ships—we already know which code will work—identify himself, feed them the code on a tightbeam, and have their ships get the Pegasus to respond to their signal.”

  “Tightbeam or not, if it passes near the Pegasus, she'll respond,” said Val.

  “Then have him break the code in half, and transmit the second half first, kill the connection, and then send the first half in another message to a different Muscatel ship. That way whether the Pegasus reads the message or not, the two halves aren't going to jell in the right order.” Cole walked over and glanced at the various monitors in front of Christine. “All right, let's get going. The Muscatel ships will enter the system in less than two minutes. I want that code on the planet in one, and I want us safely away before the shooting starts.”

  Val's and Sharon's images vanished as the former gave the codes to the latter.

  “Pilot,” said Cole, “get us the hell out of here.”

  “Where to?”

  “Take us out three light-years, then stop and hold that position.”

  Wxakgini grunted an assent and set the ship in motion.

  “Christine, keep monitoring the three ships. If this works, they're going to start shooting in the next couple of minutes. I want to be able to call them off before they totally destroy the Pegasus.”

  “That's cutting it awfully close, sir,” said Christine. “One properly aimed shot could destroy it.”

  “Not likely,” said Cole. “Val installed all kinds of defense mechanisms. One-on-one it could probably win a battle with any of Muscatel's ships, but I think three of them ought to at least cripple it.” He turned to Briggs. “Mr. Briggs, the instant the first shot is fired, I want you to open a channel to Moyer, Nichols, and the Pepon. Make sure they keep in constant touch with their three ships, and that they call them off once the Pegasus is disabled. I don't want our Third Officer going after Muscatel for destroying her ship.”

  Next he contacted Forrice, who was in his cabin.

  “Sorry to wake you up,” said Cole, “but I need you.”

  “I wasn't sleeping,” answered the Molarian. “You'd have to be a corpse not to know what was going on here.”

  “I haven't made any of the transmissions private,” acknowledged Cole. “The crew has a right to know what's happening.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I need someone I can trust down in the Gunnery Section. And take Bull Pampas with you. He's still the best weapons mechanic we've got.”

  “You sure you don't want me on the bridge?”

  “The bridge is going to have too damned many people on it,” answered Cole. “I'm transferring control of the weapons down to Gunnery.”

  The Molarian nodded an acknowledgment. “What are your orders? Are we shooting the Pegasus or the three other pirate ships?”

  “Neither,” said Cole. “They're going to be too busy fighting each other to pay any attention to us.”

  “Then who are we expecting?”

  “Hopefully no one,” answered Cole. “But we're going to send some easily traced transmissions down to Riverwind. If the police or the military picks them up and traces them to us, it could be a problem.”

  “I don't think any police ships can stand up against us,” offered Forrice.

  “I don't think so either,” said Cole. “But they're just cops doing their job. They're not the enemy unless they fire on us. While I'm in command, you'll fire on my orders only. If anything happens to me, use your judgment—and do what you can to avoid a conflict with the police.”

  “And if a military ship traces our messages back to us?” asked the Molarian.

  “Blow it to hell and gone,” said Cole. “Don't even wait for my orders. The second you identify it, fire. You can bet your ass they'll do the same to us as soon as they figure out who we are.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” said Cole. “Don't miss.”

  The Molarian hooted his distinctive laughter.

  “Now contact Pampas and meet him down there.”

  “I'm on my way,” said Forrice, breaking the connection.

  “Pilot, what's our position?” demanded Cole.

  “Two and a half light-years out from Riverwind, sir,” said Wxakgini.

  “Sharon, does Moyer have the code?”

  “Yes.”

  “Christine, has he sent it?”

  “I can't pick up a transmission, sir, but one of the three Muscatel ships just made a minor course adjustment.” She leaned forward, staring at her monitors. “They got it, sir! A second ship just changed course. Only a few degrees, but that's enough.”

  “Sir,” said Briggs, “one of the Muscatel ships is transmitting a code every ten seconds—and a ship we can't spot is responding automatically.”

  Cole grinned. “The poor sonofabitch is probably searching high and low, trying to find a way to disable the response.”

  “I'd guess that the Pegasus is about halfway between the twelfth planet—the outer one—and Riverwind,” said Christine, still studying her monitors.

  “He's not going any closer to Riverwind,” said Cole. “He's either going to make a break for deep space or he's going to turn and fight.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “Because everyone can read that response. Any police or military vessels in the area are going to want to know why he's cloaked, and he's already got his hands full with the three pirate ships. He doesn't want to have to protect his flanks and back too, especially since a Navy ship can outgun him.”

  “There it goes!” said Christine.

  “What's happening?”
r />   “He's fired a pulse cannon at the closest Muscatel ship.”

  “Did he hit it?”

  “It's beyond his range,” said Christine. “It's just barely entered the system.”

  “Okay, that's it,” said Cole. “He's heading out.”

  “No, sir, he's firing.”

  “Christine, if you know it's beyond his range, don't you think he knows it?”

  “Sir?” she said, puzzled.

  “He's just trying to make them slow down and approach him a little more cautiously,” said Cole. “That buys him a little maneuvering room. If they spread out and try to surround him, he'll only have one retreat route open. This way he's got half the galaxy—at least for another thirty seconds or so.”

  “There he goes,” confirmed Christine.

  “I thought we couldn't spot him.”

  “We can't—but the three pirate ships just increased their speeds.”

  “Deeper into the Frontier, of course?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right,” said Cole. “Now we can sit back and enjoy the show.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “He's got to deactivate the cloak. It consumes too much power. If he's going to go at multiples of light speed, maneuver against three pursuers, and bring his guns into play, he can't keep the cloak on.”

  “Maybe he's just running, sir,” suggested Briggs.

  “Sooner or later he's got to face them,” said Cole. “It might as well be sooner.” He paused. “This isn't an act of piracy on Muscatel's part. It's a punishment party, and they're not going to call it off after what he did on Cyrano.”

  “Besides,” added Val, her image popping into existence once again, “he's the Hammerhead Shark. He doesn't run.”

  “He's running right now,” said Briggs.

  She shook her head. “He's just choosing the battlefield. Believe me, I know that bastard.”

  “Can he take the three Muscatel ships?” asked Briggs.

  “I could,” said Val.

  “What the hell kind of firepower do you have on the Pegasus?”

  “Firepower's just half of it,” said Val. She tapped her temple with a forefinger. “The rest of it's up here. If I could take them, he can take them.”

  “Let's hope they at least soften him up a bit for us.”

  “Well,” said Val without much conviction, “you can hope.”

  Donovan Muscatel's three ships slowed down when they were a light-year out of the system and began adjusting their positions.

  “What's going on?” asked Briggs.

  “The Pegasus has either slowed down or stopped, and they're trying to encircle it,” said Val, who had just come up to the bridge.

  “It can't be done,” said Briggs.

  “They're doing it.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “That's one of the basic rules we learned at the Academy. You can't englobe an enemy with less than six ships, and twelve is optimum.”

  “They're not englobing him,” said Val. “They're just making him work a little harder to get everyone in his sights, and giving one of them a head start if he makes a break for it.” Her face reflected her contempt. “Fools. As if the Shark would run from the likes of them.”

  “So where is he?” asked Cole. “He can't fire while he's hidden. He'll shred the cloak and probably burn out half his systems.”

  “He's just watching and waiting,” said Val. “If he's stopped dead in space, they can't track him through any neutrino activity.”

  “What's to stop them from firing where they think he is?” asked Christine.

  “Those aren't the biggest ships around,” answered Val. “He'd love to make them use up their ammunition.”

  “Besides,” added Cole, “all he'd have to do is jettison some junk, and if he stays still, sooner or later they'll assume they hit him. Eventually they'll approach closer to make sure, and then he'll blow them away.” He paused and shrugged. “At least, that's what I'd do.”

  For ten minutes there was no further movement, no radio signals, nothing. Then one of Muscatel's ships began moving again, approaching the spot where the three ships would intersect if they were all approaching at the same speed.

  “He's too anxious,” said Cole. “He's going to get himself blown to bits. He can't outgun the Pegasus, and he's sure as hell not trying to outthink it.”

  “He's got his screens and shields activated,” said Christine, studying her monitors.

  “They won't do much good if he gets a lot closer,” said Cole. “A pulse cannon will tear right through them at eighty thousand miles.”

  “And it'll cripple him at two hundred thousand,” added Val. “There's not a pirate ship on the Inner Frontier with better weapons. Well, except this one.”

  A second ship moved forward.

  “He's going to kill them all,” said Cole. He turned to Val. “I trust you told Sharon the full range of each of your weapons?”

  “Yes.”

  “You'd better be right,” said Cole. “I have a feeling we're going to have to face the Pegasus before too long.” He sent his image down to the Gunnery Section. “How's it going? Everything ready?”

  “Everything's primed,” answered Forrice. “Bull and I have it all under control.”

  “Good. Get Morales down there to help.”

  “We don't need any help.”

  “Until one of you gets shot or one of the cannons goes haywire.”

  “But he's just a kid, Wilson.”

  “This is how kids grow up.”

  “You're the boss,” said Forrice. “At least, until I take over the ship.”

  “You can have it.”

  “That's right,” said the Molarian. “Wait until we're facing not one enemy but four of them, and then give it to me.”

  “Can I go back to the battle, or do you want to bitch some more?” asked Cole.

  “Go. I'll summon the kid.”

  Cole broke the connection. “I see the third ship is moving. We ought to be able to pinpoint the Pegasus right now. Why aren't they firing at it?”

  “Beats me,” said Val.

  Suddenly Cole frowned. “You don't suppose that asshole wants to take his revenge personally, do you? Make the Shark suffer physically rather than just blow him out of space?”

  “I wouldn't put it past him,” said Val.

  “He's going to get all three ships killed for his trouble,” said Cole. “The closer he gets, the better chance the Pegasus has of penetrating his defenses.”

  “Who knows what he lost on Cyrano?” said Briggs. “Maybe a wife or lover, maybe a kid who was going to take over the business, maybe some treasure he'd spent his whole life trying to get. He might not care about the risk.”

  “Well, he'd better start caring,” said Cole. He turned to Christine. “How close are they getting to the spot?”

  “The spot, sir?”

  “The point they're converging on.”

  “The closest ship is about fifty thousand miles, the farthest is just over ninety, sir.”

  “If sound carried in space, I'd tell you to cover your ears,” said Cole. “It won't be long now.”

  And suddenly, as the words left his mouth, the closest of the three Muscatel ships opened fire. Soon all three were firing pulse and laser cannons—and then the Pegasus became visible. It was clearly undamaged. It fired one cannon, and a huge ball of raw energy engulfed the closer ship. There was no explosion, no flare of light, nothing. One instant the ship was there, firing its weapons, and the next it was gone.

  “That's some cannon you've got there,” commented Cole.

  “You've seen bigger, I'm sure,” answered Val.

  “On dreadnaughts,” he acknowledged. “Never on a refurbished cargo ship.”

  “It cost me three years' loot to arm that ship the way I wanted it,” she said proudly.

  “Don't look so pleased with yourself,” said Cole. “It's going to make our job that much harder.”

  The second sh
ip was hit and vanished.

  “Captain, I'm getting a transmission from the third ship,” said Christine. “I'll put it on audio.”

  “How about visual, too?”

  She shook her head. “They're not sending any visual signal.”

  “To the Captain of the Pegasus,” said a voice. “This is Jonathan Stark, in command of the Silver Demon. You have killed our commander, Donovan Muscatel, who was in command of the second ship you destroyed. He was the one with the grudge against you; we were just following orders. We wish to terminate hostilities.”

  And then came the Shark's voice—incredibly deep, incredibly threatening. “You cannot end the battle that easily. Approach us under a signal of truce, allow us to board you, turn over all your weapons, let us take whatever we find of value, and we will let you live.”

  There was a long silence.

  “We agree to your terms,” said Stark.

  “Good,” boomed the Shark. “Then approach.”

  “They're fools,” said Val.

  “They can't outgun him,” said Cole.

  “They should turn around and get the hell out of here while they still can,” she said. “I know the Shark. He doesn't honor truces.”

  “Maybe we can warn them,” said Cole. “Christine, you're the expert. Is there some way we can send them a signal that the Pegasus can't intercept or read?”

  “I'll see.”

  It became a moot point a minute later. When the Silver Demon got within sixty thousand miles of the Pegasus, the Shark blew it apart.

  “Well, so much for that,” said Cole. “It looks like it's up to us.”

  “We shouldn't have any trouble taking it, sir,” said Briggs.

  “We won't have any trouble destroying it,” said Cole. “The trick is to disable it and then disarm the crew, so that Val can repossess it.”

  “That'll be a little harder,” agreed Briggs.

  It's starting to look like it'll be fucking impossible, thought Cole. Just how much am I willing to endanger my own ship to help Val get hers back?

  “Sir!” said Christine excitedly. “I've got a message from the Shark!”

  “For us?” asked Cole, surprised. “I'd have sworn he didn't even know we were here.”