by Peter Grant
“Thanks for your confidence in me, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. We all will, but I daresay we’ll make our fair share of mistakes while we’re learning. That’s inevitable. Let’s learn from them, so we don’t make them again – and let’s keep them small enough that no-one gets hurt or killed while we’re making them.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, sir!”
“Let’s hope he’s listening.”
For the next week, the three ships practiced together. Amelia sent fresh provisions and other supplies to the smaller patrol craft every third day via cutter. The ships maneuvered in formation and independently, and exercised their crews in every system on board. The spacers muttered in frustration at having to repeat the same exercises again and again, but few questioned the necessity. The senior NCO of the task force, Senior Chief Petty Officer Laker, was heard to rebuke one particularly vocal spacer, “Shut up, Harris! Only amateurs practice until they’ve got it right. Professionals practice until they can’t get it wrong. We’re professionals – apart from you, that is!”
They slowed to a halt, one million kilometers from Mycenae Primus Four, and hung silently in space, adjusting their position as needed using minimal drive power that wouldn’t be detected by sensors unless they were only a few thousand kilometers away. Cousins knew that the Callanish repair ship, Colomb, was almost certainly doing the same thing at the same time. If she was headed for the same position she’d used on her previous visit, she would be only a few million kilometers from the Eufala ships right now.
Right on time, a freighter from Rousay showed up to deploy the new constellation of satellites. She spent three days in orbit around Mycenae Primus Four as her specialized small craft emplaced the satellites, checked their orbits relative to each other, and set up the network linking them to the robotic prospectors on the planet below. Amelia and her consorts watched silently, not betraying their presence by so much as a single stray radio transmission. They used only laser tight-beams for communication, impossible to intercept unless in line-of-sight between transmitter and receiver – and they made sure that the laser dishes were never aimed anywhere close to the planet, or where they suspected Colomb was waiting.
The tension ratcheted higher as the installation of the satellites approached completion. The three ships’ crews watched and waited as the freighter recovered her small craft, ran a final function test on the newly installed system by remote control, and switched it from test to operational mode before heading for the system boundary, on her way back to Rousay.
As they watched the departing ship’s icon in the plot display, Moffatt murmured, “Will they make their move now, sir?”
“I think not. Colomb will wait until she’s sure the freighter has left. She’ll want to see her hyper-jump signature. Last time, she crept in silently to about half a million kilometers from the planet before launching her cargo shuttle. Her own gravitic drive signature didn’t show up in that spot until after the cargo shuttle returned, carrying the three satellites they stole.”
“Did she suspect a trap, sir? Why did she remain in silent mode for so long?”
“That’s a good question. I suppose her skipper wanted to make sure there were no active defenses. If something had clobbered his cargo shuttle, he’d have sneaked off undetected to avoid being targeted himself.”
“I bet the crew of that shuttle didn’t enjoy being the proverbial canaries in the coal mine.”
“You can say that again! For their sakes, I hope they got danger pay for that job.”
“Are we going to hit the shuttle this time, sir?”
“Not if I can help it. They can’t fight back, and I don’t like the thought of murdering defenseless spacers, no matter whose side they’re on. We’ll make our move against Colomb when we see the shuttle’s gravitic drive signature as it leaves her docking bay. That’ll confirm her position. Once she’s surrendered, we’ll have her recall the shuttle.”
“And if she doesn’t surrender?”
Cousins’ voice turned ice cold. “Then the shuttle will have to rendezvous with us instead, because there’ll be nothing left of Colomb but a cloud of radioactive molecules.”
“Ah… won’t that be ‘murdering defenseless spacers’, as you put it, sir?”
“No. Colomb is a military-grade repair ship. She can move as fast as our old patrol craft, and twice as fast as Amelia. If she manages to evade our trap, she’ll head for the system boundary. We won’t be able to catch her, and our old-fashioned, relatively short-ranged missiles probably won’t either. That means we’ve got to stop her before she gets too far away. We daren’t allow her to warn her bosses on Callanish that we’re patrolling the Mycenae system now. No, if she shows resistance, we’ll fire on her. We’ll have no choice.”
“Let’s hope they listen to reason, sir.”
Cousins did not reply. He took a last, long look at the Plot display. The departing freighter’s icon was now half a billion kilometers away. The location in space, relative to the planet, from which Colomb had launched her cargo shuttle on the previous occasion was marked with a red flashing icon. The patrol craft were not on radar, as emissions silence was in force, but their presumed locations behind and on either side of Amelia were marked with green icons. Dotted lines showed where they would head after receiving their orders.
His mind raced through the operation orders one last time. They could not possibly anticipate every contingency, but they’d done their best to cater for unexpected developments, given the limitations of their ships and weapons. Now it was time to put the plan into action.
Cousins reached for his microphone and activated the tight-beam circuit. “Amelia to Payana and Trairao. Execute Operation Intercept. I say again, execute Operation Intercept. Acknowledge. Over.”
A momentary pause, then, “Payana to Amelia, understand execute Intercept, over.”
“Trairao to Amelia, understand execute Intercept, over.”
“Amelia to Payana and Trairao. Proceed in accordance with your orders, and use your initiative if necessary. Good luck to us all. Amelia out.”
Cousins adjusted the microphone controls, switching it from the external tight-beam network to the ship’s internal communications. “Bridge to drive room. Confirm that drive limiter is set to five percent only, I say again, ten percent only.”
The reply came back instantly. “Drive room to bridge, I confirm limiter is at five percent.”
“Good. Warn everyone on duty that if they exceed that figure, the only way they’ll leave this ship is when I personally feed them through the reaction thrusters!”
A chuckle came back over the circuit. “I’ll tell them, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Cousins set down the microphone as he looked around the bridge. “Very well. Let’s go get ’em! Helm, power to five percent, go to preassigned course, shut down when we reach assigned speed.”
“Helm to Command, five percent power, assume assigned course and speed, aye aye, sir.”
Slowly, silently, Amelia began her advance to contact. In her wake, the patrol craft did the same, their courses diverging slightly from hers as they moved toward their attack positions.
Aboard Colomb, the tension was markedly lower than on Amelia’s bridge. Her duty watch kept an eye on the departing freighter as it headed toward the system boundary. As it reached it, its icon flared into the unmistakable pattern of a hyper-jump signature, making the Plot operator’s report superfluous; but he made it anyway.
“Plot to Command, freighter has left the system, sir.”
“Command to Plot, understood, thank you.” Commander Lamprey clicked over to another intercom channel. “Command to cargo shuttle, the freighter’s left. You can undock and proceed as ordered.”
At his pilot console, Chief Petty Officer Lawson replied, “Shuttle to Command, understood, sir. On my way.”
He ordered his crew to double-check that the inner airlock door was secured, then diseng
aged the tube joining it to the docking bay airlock in Colomb’s stern. The concertina tube retracted into its housing and swung clear of the shuttle.
“Crew ready?” Lawson demanded. One by one, his six spacers reported that they were strapped into their chairs and ready for departure. “All right. We’re off.”
Lawson applied power to the reaction thrusters. Slowly, carefully, the cargo shuttle backed out of the docking bay. As soon as it was clear of the larger ship’s gravitic drive field, Lawson powered up its own, much smaller drive unit, swiveling in space onto a course that would take it to a rendezvous with the first satellite.
“Gravitic drive signature detected, sir!” The Plot operator’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Bearing 005:007, classified as probable cargo shuttle. It’s heading for the planet. Cross-bearings are coming in from the patrol craft on tight-beam link… cross-bearings suggest a range of two hundred thousand kilometers, sir.”
“Command to Plot, understood. Start the attack clock from the time of detection.”
Cousins reflected that he’d never expected to give that order on the bridge of a freighter, but then, he’d never served on a freighter armed with missiles and laser cannon before. There were a lot of firsts on this mission.
The Plot operator started a counter, visible as a series of digits in the three-dimensional display, and pressed several controls. The scrolling digits of the counter froze, jumped a little as the ship’s computer adjusted it, then began ratcheting up again, counting off the seconds and minutes since the gravitic drive signature had first been detected. An icon now marked the spot where that had happened, which was almost certainly where Colomb would be found. Cousins knew that the patrol craft would be doing the same thing.
“We’re as close to right on the button as we could be, sir!” Lieutenant-Commander Moffatt’s voice was exultant as he sat behind the hastily improvised Weapons console, tucked into a corner of the bridge. “She’s almost exactly where we expected her to be.”
“Yes, it was nice of them to use the same approach as last time. On the other hand, why shouldn’t they? As far as they know, they’ve nothing to fear here.”
“We’ll show them differently, sir!” A rumble of agreement ran around the bridge, a murmur of impending triumph. They’d worked long and hard to be ready for this day.
“All right, keep it quiet,” Cousins ordered, but couldn’t help the smile that played around his lips. He, too, was looking forward to this. “Command to Weapons. You may fire as planned, without waiting for orders, as soon as the counter reaches ten minutes. Weapons free.”
“Weapons to Command, weapons free in ten minutes, aye aye, sir.”
The tension ratcheted higher as they watched the figures rolling in the counter window.
On Colomb’s bridge, her duty watch felt no tension at all as they looked at the Plot display. The cargo shuttle was almost ten minutes out, arrowing toward its rendezvous with the first satellite. They’d all shared in a handsome bonus for capturing the first three satellites, some months before. If they picked up the next three as well, plus the monitoring station that they now knew existed, they’d get the same again – something to look forward to when they got back to Callanish.
Their anticipation was rudely shattered as three traces appeared in the Plot display, the first above them, the second thirty degrees below and to starboard, and the last thirty degrees below and to port. The Plot operator froze for a disbelieving second, then almost screamed, “Vampire! Vampire! Three missiles launched from… they’re all around us!”
Almost before he’d finished speaking, Lieutenant-Commander Macaskill’s voice cut over his from the Navigation console. “They’re not aimed at us! They’re offset to one side, sir!”
Lamprey felt as if he were wading through mental molasses as he tried to cudgel his astonished brain into action. He raised his voice over the sudden hubbub of startled cries and oaths. “Silence! Silence on the bridge!” Every instinct screamed at him to cut in the drive and head for safety right away… but those missiles proved it would be futile. Every one of them had been launched from the spacefaring equivalent of point-blank range.
They watched in frozen, dumbfounded silence as the three missiles arrowed closer, then detonated in three starburst icons in the Plot display. Their laser beam cones were aimed away from Colomb, so they did no damage, instead slashing harmlessly through the vacuum of space.
Almost as soon as the last missile had detonated, a voice crackled over the Communications speaker on the interplanetary emergency channel. It was filtered through a voice modulator, so that it came over in a flat, mechanical monotone.
“Attention! Colomb, you are surrounded by armed vessels. Any attempt to flee will result in your instant destruction. Your ship and crew are under arrest. Order your cargo shuttle to return to your ship immediately. Your crew is to enter Colomb’s lifeboats, taking nothing with them, and remain there until further orders. The Commanding Officer, plus a skeleton bridge and drive room crew, are to remain at their stations. Send your Executive Officer to meet an armed boarding party in your docking bay. They will give you further orders. In the meantime, you are not to damage your ship in any way. Leave all systems and equipment in fully operational condition. Do not erase any records, files or programs. If you do, those responsible will face the most severe consequences. Acknowledge. Over.”
There was a stunned silence in the control center as Lamprey reached for his microphone. He somehow managed to keep his voice steady, even though his body was trembling with the shock of his reaction to the missiles that had come out of nowhere.
“Colomb to unknown vessel. Who are you? Identify yourself! By what authority are you trying to arrest us? There is no System Control Service in the Mycenae system, and no laws or regulations authorizing you or anybody else to arrest anyone for anything. This is an act of piracy! Over.”
“Colomb, we are the new security service for the Mycenae system. That’s all you need to know. We don’t care whether you recognize our authority. You’d better recognize the authority of our missiles, if you value your lives! As for your arrest, what did you expect after you stole three satellites from around this planet? Your presence here was recorded, and your ship identified. You are now being brought to justice for that theft. It may be frontier justice, but it’s justice nonetheless. Your ship is forfeit for your crimes. You and your crew will be placed under guard while Colomb is taken away for disposal. After that, plus a suitable interval to make sure you haven’t sabotaged her in any way, you’ll all be returned to Callanish, to explain to your bosses how you lost their ship. Over.”
Lamprey wanted to spit on the deck next to his console, but restrained himself. He was filled with bitter anger and frustration. He knew they had no defense against… whoever these people were. They’d heard vague rumors that the New Orkney Enterprise was considering system security in Mycenae, but his superiors had assured him that nothing had been done about it yet. They’d claimed it would take months, if not years, for NOE to buy patrol craft, hire qualified and experienced crews for them, and set up a formal security operation. What’s more, NOE didn’t have the money to spare for that right now. He couldn’t help thinking bitterly, It looks like they had a lot more money than we thought. They must have hired an existing outfit, rather than taken the time to raise their own. Who the hell are these people? There aren’t many space security companies out there, and I don’t know any who can afford to expend nuclear-tipped missiles as a demonstration like that. They cost too much.
Slowly, he raised his microphone. “Colomb to… whoever you are. We shall comply, under protest. I am recalling my cargo shuttle, and will send my crew to the lifeboats and my Executive Officer to the docking bay. We await your boarding party. Over.”
“Very well. Do as you’re told, and no-one will get hurt, and you’ll all get home safely. Stand by.”
Lamprey switched to intercom. “Drive compartment, stand fast. Bridge, stand fast. Th
e rest of the crew is to proceed to their lifeboat stations at once, and take their places in the lifeboats, but do not launch, I say again, Do. Not. Launch. This is not a drill. I repeat, This. Is. Not. A. Drill. Lifeboat commanders, call the roll. Report to me as soon as all assigned personnel are in their places.”
Faintly, echoing up and down the main passageway, he could hear shouts of astonishment from the crew. Most of them knew nothing of the drama outside the hull, he reminded himself. He’d have to broadcast to them in the lifeboats, and explain what had happened.
He nodded approvingly at Lieutenant-Commander Macaskill, who’d taken it upon himself to radio the cargo shuttle and order its immediate return. “Thank you, Exec. You’d better head for the docking bay to meet the boarding party. Be careful. They may be trigger-happy.”
“I’ll be careful, sir.” Aidan’s voice was tight with anger and concern. “I wonder where they’re going to put us while they take Colomb to… wherever she’s going?”
“I daresay we’ll find out soon enough. As to where she’s going, surely that’s obvious? They’ll take her somewhere they can sell her for a lot of money, cash on the barrelhead. A newly refurbished repair ship, with all its equipment intact, is worth hundreds of millions, even in a no-questions-asked under-the-counter sale. They’ll want to recover as much as they can of the value of the satellites we took from them.”
“I wish we could hand them a worthless, burned-out hulk!”
“It’s a tempting thought, but what would happen to our crew if we did?” They stared at each other for a wordless moment, then Lamprey shook his head. “No. We can’t risk it. Our people deserve better than that.”
“I… yes, sir. You’re right.”
“I’ll broadcast to the ship’s company once they’re in the lifeboats, and make sure they understand that too. No resistance, no sabotage, no funny business at all. Our families want us back alive, not in coffins!”
