Suddenly, the huge single blob on the sensor split into one single large section with two arms spreading out from either side, each of which then broke into separate dots.
“New contacts. Sir! They were hiding in close to the Population so we couldn't see them,” the crewman said, not noticing that all eyes were on his terminal.
“Noted,” said the Captain.
Subs of different sizes and shapes continued to break out from the overall bulk of the blob that represented the citysub Population.
“Sir, the computer is registering them as Wave class corvettes and Rapid class attack frigates.”
“Keep tracking, ensign.”
“Sir, yes sir... Captain!” the young ensign said as he looked from his computer screen to the sensor screen. He saw what the rest of them did. The enemy fleet was spreading itself wide, and the starboard arm was accelerating, trying to come up on their starboard side.
“Come to port, two-seven-zero degrees,” Sarras said over the comm.
“Port, two-seven-zero, aye,” the voice came back.
They all leaned as the big ship canceled its hard right turn and started left. The left wing of enemy ships disappeared on the screens as they entered the cone behind the Uni. It reemerged as the Uni turned, having spread itself out, matching the arm-like formation on the opposite side.
More ships started appearing on the monitor. Smaller ships, filling in the gaps between the others. Soon, the wings of enemy ships were wider than the Population was long, and resembled a massive claw attempting to pinch down on the Universalis.
“Depth under keel?” the Captain asked.
“110 and rising,” a crewman responded.
“Sir, they are no longer gaining. They are holding at 80,” said the sensor crewman, seemingly exited by the news, but Thom could see the concern in Captain Sarras’s eyes.
“Active sweep forward, full power. Go.” the officer did as he was told, and one of the monitors showed the result of the sweep. There were gasps of horror across the bridge. The Captain looked out past the monitors as if he could see into the darkness of the sea beyond. As if trying to see the ridge they were imminently going to impale themselves on, at flank speed. For a moment, just a flash, Thom saw defeat in the Captains face. Then it was gone.
“Options. Go,” he said briskly. The room was silent. They all could see that turning meant destruction by the Pop fleet, and surfacing meant a vicious, painful, and horrifying death from radiation.
“Comm…” the Captain started.
“Captain,” Thom said. All eyes went to him. He didn’t flinch. “What’s at the front of their boat?”
The Captain thought for a moment.
“Sensors, the bridge...” The Captain’s eyes went wide. He stabbed at the button on the table.
“Bridge, full reverse,” he nearly shouted.
“Sir?” came the response.
“Full reverse, and sound collision. Gentlemen,” he said, regaining his composure and turning to the Council members. “I would suggest you hold on to something.”
XII
The signal took just a fraction of a second to get from the bridge at the front of the ship, along the torso-thick bundle of wires that ran along the Spine to the engine bay. It only took a moment longer for the house-sized electric motors that turned the propellers to switch direction. They fought against the propeller shafts, which took a moment to spin down. Slowly at first, then gaining speed, the shafts started turning the opposite direction.
The propellers, though, started cavitating immediately and viciously, causing noise and vibration that spread throughout the ship. But as they gained purchase in the water, the ship slowed with fervor, as if someone had pulled an emergency brake—which in a way, they had.
Instantly, tens of thousands of people were knocked off their feet and thrown violently into forward bulkheads. Every hanging plant in the garden swayed hastily forward, many coming loose and crashing to the deck below. Plates, glasses, chairs, tables—everything not bolted to the deck crashed forward, striking people on their way to piling up on the bulkheads. Metal joints between the various ship’s hulls in the Basket and Yard creaked deafeningly and ominously. Cracking, popping, and an infinite symphony of other sounds were heard throughout as the stern grabbed hold of the rest of the ship with huge invisible arms of force, and said “STOP.”
The slow pulse of the collision klaxon sounded, causing panic. People struggled to get to their feet as the ship tried to accelerate in the opposite direction. The alarm rose in pitch and speed. Everyone who hadn’t made it to their cabins tried to get somewhere safe, while others just tried to get somewhere where they could brace themselves in. In the bunker, only the Captain had remained upright among those who weren’t seated. The Council members picked themselves up off the floor, and looked at the monitors. They told what they all could feel: the combined colossal power of the Uni’s engines and thrusters had rapidly ground them to a halt, and were now driving them backwards. With the wake now flowing in the opposite direction, they had a clear look at the Population, now rapidly approaching.
“Right about now, I’d say their Captain just soiled his uniform,” Sarras said with a wry grin. He braced himself against the table, and subtly gave it a gentle pat with his left hand. On the screen the Population was starting to turn and dive away, but she was moving too slowly, and there as just too much mass. He tapped the button on the table one last time, “Stay with her, Mr. Pallee.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sarras’ body became rigid. The crewman at the sensor station did his best to stifle the panic in his voice,
“Impact in 5…4…3…2...”
The bulbous middle of the stern of the Universalis impacted the Population just above Deck 12 on the former, and Deck 4 on the latter. The rear of the Uni started crumpling immediately as it scraped up and across the bow of the other ship. The carnage was limited to the storage space and the fighter deck at first, but as the powerful motors on both craft continued to drive them into each other, bulkheads started to collapse and water started stabbing into the inner hulls. Water cascaded into corridors and cargo holds. Locks slammed shut sequentially, but as each shut, the bulkhead around it crumpled from the impact, flooding still more space. The loss of buoyancy drove the back of the Uni down with the descending Population.
On the Population the damage was worse, water pouring in immediately, flooding the forward-most parts of Decks 2, 3, and 4. The Pop continued to turn and dive, and the impaling Uni started to slide down the port side, opening up swaths of Decks 3 through 9. The outer hull tore away like paper under the mass and pressure of the Uni.
The tangled mass of bulkheads and hull from both ships ground away, tearing more and more from each other. The nose of the Population finally got forward and low enough to snag the starboard-most propeller of the Universalis. The blade’s edge dug into the ship, slicing the hull ribbon-like. With a deep clang it dug in hard on a main support frame. Instantly its rotation stopped, tearing itself and its shaft sideways out of the side of the Uni. For a moment, the two ships were attached, then the force became too great. The prop freed itself from both ships, and started its free fall to the bottom. The gouges left in the Population were deep, and had done enough damage to the front of the ship that the watertight bulkheads were no longer water tight. Ocean filled the bow of the ship, and it started to nose over even faster.
The hole the shaft left in the side of the Uni was no less catastrophic. The entire starboard engine bay was quickly flooded, killing hundreds and shorting out the adjacent engine. The abundance of power on the port side of the ship, still in full reverse, sent the nose to port and the tail to starboard, pivoting the ship around and separating it temporarily from the diving and retreating Population. Chunks of debris fell to the depths as the two behemoths shrugged each other off.
“Damage Report!” Captain Sarras yelled. On the bridge there was pandemonium. Alarms were sounding at every station, people were yelli
ng to be heard over the din. Adding to it all were the sounds of the ship dying around them.
“Flooding on Decks 12, 13, and 14, sir,” an officer yelled from his station. “I have reports of water on Decks 15 and 16. We have lost Shafts 5 and 6; 4 is badly damaged.”
“Ensign,” Sarras yelled over the comm, “all ahead, flank. Now!”
“Sir!”
“Engine room reports heavy flooding and fires, Captain. Water is flooding in from the damaged shafts. I have lost all communication with Engine Room 6.”
“Ensign, bring us about and out of here.”
“Sir!”
“Chief of Arms, those batteries had better be firing.”
“They are, sir.”
“We have structural alerts throughout the ship. The Basket is reporting five craft are loose and are dangerously close to breaking free.”
“Hold together…” the Captain said under his breath.
The two ships gradually began to put distance between then, trailing debris floating up or falling down to the sea floor. As they continued their turn, the defensive batteries started to fire on the left arm of the Population’s fleet. Drychem rockets lanced out, impacting the enemy ships. They scattered immediately, diving down to rendezvous with their stricken and sinking mothership. The Population, veering starboard, revealed her broadside to the fleeing Universalis. All along the side of the ship, portals snapped open.
“Captain, weapons warning. Enemy sub has gone hot. Correction, enemy sub has launched torpedoes. Weapons are active and tracking.” The officer’s voice had taken on a fever pitch.
“How many weapons, ensign?”
“I… dozens, sir. Impact in 20 seconds.” The ensign looked away from his station to look at the Captain, and every eye in the room followed.
It was subtle—Thom didn’t think most would notice it—but something had changed in the Captain. The look of fire was gone. He knew he had lost.
Sarras stood stoically for a moment. He hastened a glance at Jills, then back to the console.
“Mr. Lindl, fire countermeasures. All hands, brace for impact.” Head sinking to his chest, Sarras closed his eyes and gripped the console with both hands.
Part 2
I
Thom Vargas sat in a cramped, dark cockpit. None of the varied indicators, switches, buttons, or screens were lit, save the main one, and even it was set so low as to be barely visible. Off to his left, out the side viewscreen, a boulder loomed like a vertical cliff. He watched as a transport and two diamond-shaped escort subs cruised silently past just above him.
Tapping a button on the roof of the cockpit, Thom activated an invisible laser that pulsed straight out into the darkness. A moment later, his dimly lit console registered that it had sensed a return pulse. Instantly, Thom pushed the throttle forward hard, and the little craft burst from its hiding place, stirring up a cloud of gray silt. In front and beside him, four other attack subs of the same streamlined design all revealed themselves from cover and converged on the transport. All his dials and screens were now lit and feeding him information. The escort subs veered off from the transport, and came around to engage.
Thom pulled back on his controls and shot straight up at full speed. As he passed the thermal layer he rolled over, keeping his speed but now going parallel with the transport. His screens went blank as the battle below became obscured from his sensors by the thermal layer. The water-jet engine, nearly the entire back portion of the tiny sub, bucked and whined loudly in protest. After a moment he nosed the front of the craft over. His screens lit back up, and Thom saw that the escort subs had taken out two of his compatriots while taking minimal damage of their own. Of the two remaining attack subs, one was clearly in distress, with gasses escaping from the engine compartment.
Directly ahead of Thom, or below him, depending on your perspective, was the transport, cavitating hard in an attempt to make a getaway. Thom adjusted his angle of attack so the nose of his craft was aimed slightly in front of the fleeing transport. Gravity now assisting, Thom’s sub became a missile, slicing through the water at speeds that would have made a less experienced pilot panic. As he got closer, it looked like he had lined up perfectly, with the transport moving forward into his sights just as his weapons came within range. He turned on his weapons systems and fired off a series of shots, all impacting along the spine of the transport a moment later. The transport slowed to a stop, and Thom shot by, buzzing the cockpit and showering it with a cloud of silt. Dialing back the throttle, he keyed his comm.
“Good work everyone, back to the barn for a debrief. Last one in has to swim in the pool.”
Behind him, the three stricken attack subs powered back up, and came around to follow him. The transport and escorts formed up and did the same.
Twenty minutes later they came across a meandering undersea canyon, like someone had taken a knife and drunkenly carved a line in the sea floor. The mini fleet dove over the edge and twisted through the canyon at high speeds, as if daring each other to go faster. After a few minutes, the canyon broadened out and the floor dropped down and away. There in the center was the Universalis, partially buried in silt.
The little light that reached this far down showed the carnage of battle. The aft section looked as if some massive beast had crushed and ripped away at the fragile hull, pulling structural girders, bulkheads, piping, wiring, and flooring with it. Exposed decks collected the same silt to match the rest of the hull. Tiny bursts of bright light shown like stars all around the damaged sections. Dry-suited welders, doing their best to hide the telltale signs of their profession, chopped and cut at the carnage. The bow and most of the forward sections were deep into the sea bed.
On closer inspection, small valleys, too smooth and regular to be erosion, had been dug into the sea floor leading underneath the giant sub. Occasionally, a small sub with no running lights would enter or exit the Uni via one of the small valleys.
Thom extricated himself from the cockpit of the attack sub, the hull still dripping onto the white bay floor. Around him, the other pilots were doing the same. The larger escort subs, with their crews of three, were waiting with open cockpits for rolling stairs to be brought over by the bay crew. After a few minutes, everyone was assembled in front of Thom. No one looked pleased.
“OK, what could you have done better?” Thom asked, pointing to a young pilot on the left of the group.
“I think I needed to get closer to the deck when someone was on my tail,” he said cautiously. Thom nodded and pointed at the next person over, a middle-aged recruit from the maintenance corps with graying hair and a lanky figure.
“I drystalled my motor in a turn. So... not that, I guess,” he replied. Thom nodded again and moved down the line. Each of the pilots listed his screw-ups. Thom said nothing until they were all finished.
“All true. There were larger failures. Two, really. Anyone know what they were?” Thom scanned the group for an answer. He pointed to a tall, burly pilot of one of the escort subs. “Deebee, think you have an idea?”
“We lost the transport?”
“Exactly. In your effort to get the attackers, I was able to sneak past you and take out the target. He was so far away there was nothing you could have done even if you had seen me, which you didn’t. Mark your targets. That’s why there are three of you in there: one to drive, one to watch, and one to shoot. Transport,” Thom said, scanning the group for the transport pilot. “When you’re trying to flee, don’t just go in a straight line. Veer off. Weave around. Drive like a fish would. I knew exactly where you were going to be. But that’s not the other big failure—just wanted to mention it. OK, what’s the other one? One of you guys?” he said, pointing at the attack pilots.
“Don’t die?”
“Thank you. Don’t die. That’s pretty much the first rule around here, as far as I’m concerned. Now cheer up. This was just your first of many combat exercises, and you did a lot better than most of the other classes. The vids of the battle
will be on the shipnet for you to watch. I’d advise watching everyone else’s too. And what’s our motto?
“Sure beats fishing,” they all said in unison, not altogether unconvincingly.
“Sure does. See you next week.”
Thom changed out of his drysuit and made his way to the Garden for some lunch. He found Ralla waiting for him at a table in front of Eerre’s cafe, digging through a pile of papers as she sipped at a thick-looking black beverage. She looked up and smiled as he approached the table. He liked how her eyes squinted a bit when she smiled.
“How’d class go?”
“Each group seems worse than the last.”
“Well, give them some time. A few months ago these guys were farmers and fishermen.”
“A few months ago I was a fisherman.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Sadly,” he replied. Thom scanned the cafe for a moment until he made eye contact with Eerre, who nodded at him and headed back towards the kitchen. “Anything new?” he asked, motioning towards the papers.
“They think they’ll be able to finish a new landing deck in a few weeks, but only because they’re flattening out the whole area instead of rebuilding it. The corridors and hull repairs are coming along more slowly. It seems like every time they patch one leak they find a new one.” She dropped her hand to the table, obviously weary and agitated, splattering the papers on the table with a bit of the black liquid from the glass she was still holding “The ship is old, Thom. It was old before this mess. It was old before we were born. I don’t know what...” Thom interrupted her by putting his hand on hers. It was as if his hand had opened a valve that let the aggravation flow out. She sighed, and smiled at him. “Sorry. Thanks.”
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