by B. V. Larson
“So, Captain Lorn will have his revenge in six hours. Time to earn our pay. Bring Defiant about and target Blaze—Lorn’s flagship.”
Durris shook his head. “That’s not normal Star Guard policy, sir. If you kill the one man you have contact with, you don’t have anyone to negotiate terms with when the battle comes to a conclusion.”
I let out a bitter laugh. I didn’t mean to, but I wasn’t in the best mood right now.
“Lorn won’t accept our surrender, and he won’t offer his own. But if we can knock him out, the rest of his ships may suffer from the resulting confusion. Lock onto his ship and wait for him to come into effective range.”
It would be several hours until the firing began again, so I got up and headed below decks. It was time for me to examine the damage personally and determine what, if anything, we could do about it.
From the start, the damage control people were less than encouraging.
“You can see the leak from here, sir,” Rumbold said, standing next to me in a corridor that was full of flashing blue sparkles.
We wore radiation suits, but no one thought the protection could be one hundred percent effective. The leak was too significant.
“Flush the atmosphere on this deck out into space,” I ordered.
“That’s a lot of air we won’t get back anytime soon,” Rumbold cautioned.
I looked down at him. Sometimes, my crewmen were short-sighted.
“If we can’t get past this leak, we aren’t going to be needing an air supply.”
Still, he hesitated. “Sir, if anyone’s alive in there, needing help—”
“Flush the atmosphere now,” I said in a hard voice. The odds were no one was alive, and even if they were, they couldn’t be in good shape. Asphyxiating them now would be a mercy.
Without another word, he activated the hatches and pumps. In that moment, all hope of rescuing injured engineering people vanished.
The hard vacuum outside the ship effectively sucked all the air off the deck, and much of the radiation with it. The leak was still active, but without an easy gas medium to drift around on, the dust particles weren’t as much of a problem.
We advanced to where the cooling jacket had ruptured. A shower of bluish steam still vented from the spot, but it froze into a crystalline mass almost as fast as it came out of the hole.
“The cold vacuum is working to contain the leak, at least temporarily,” Rumbold commented. “That was probably a good call, sir.”
“Let’s go,” I said wading through the shower of frosty particles and into the engine room beyond.
He looked startled, but he followed me quickly enough. A wary team in yellow hazmat suits followed us. Every one of them winced when they got near the frozen fountain of radioactive coolant, and I couldn’t blame them for that. We’d all be eating potassium iodide tablets by the handful tonight—unless we died sooner.
When we reached the engine room we discovered a ghastly mess. Seven crew members had perished. They’d been burned and then frozen stiff when I’d opened the hatches. A few of them might have been alive, it was hard to tell. Their bulging eyes and bloody, frothing lips might have indicated death from any number of causes.
We pressed past the drifting dead and examined the engine core. This was the key to our survival—to the survival of Defiant herself.
It didn’t look good. The engines had suffered a serious blast. Something had been placed under the core, possibly an explosive device, and it had gone off when Captain Lorn had commanded it to.
“The device can’t have been very large,” Rumbold commented, climbing underneath the cowling and grunting while he worked. “But it didn’t have to be. It was placed with expert care. We didn’t find it due to the shielding all around here—sir, I think this thing was planted very deliberately by experts.”
“No kidding,” I said. “A parting gift by O’Donnell and her crew, no doubt. The question is, can you fix it?”
“Fix it? Maybe, given half a year’s time at a well-equipped dry-dock. This engine is dead, sir.”
I heaved a sigh. The enemy had taken out Earth’s first starship without hitting us with a single salvo.
“Do what you can. I need some kind of power. Anything, even just give me enough to maneuver.”
“I might be able to do that,” Rumbold muttered. He was already at work. Only his feet stuck out from beneath the cowling.
His nervous damage control crew filed in and began following his barking commands.
I left the engine room with a heavy heart and headed back up to the command deck. We had less than five hours before the enemy caught and destroyed us.
-17-
The enemy ships came into range three hours later. They’d adopted, by that time, what we considered to be unorthodox tactics.
“They’ve formed a column, sir,” Durris said.
“A column?”
“Yes, they’ve lined up their ships. Only one of them is visible from our point of view.”
I rubbed my chin briefly. “I see. They know now that we have superior range, and they’ve adapted. With only one ship in front of all the others, they hope to reduce the odds of our striking them.”
“Exactly. Oh, and sir, the lead ship is not Captain Lorn’s.”
Chuckling, I found myself unsurprised. There was some humanity left in that Stroj after all. He wasn’t interested in dying. He was going to let someone else do it for him. I had to wonder if he was in the very last ship in the line.
“All right,” I said. “Hold your fire. I assume they’re still dodging from side to side in a random pattern?”
“Yes, in perfect synchronicity.”
“Right. Try to figure out their pattern and plot it, Durris.”
He frowned. “Sir, I just said the pattern was random—”
I lifted a finger in his direction. “But it isn’t. It can’t be, really. They aren’t coordinating with transmissions between the ships, are they?”
“No.”
“Well then, they must be running a program that generates a seemingly random course adjustment after a predetermined length of time. That way, they’re all able to stay in a perfect line.”
“Hmm,” he said, studying the data. After a few minutes, he returned with fresh hope in his eyes. “I think you’re right, sir. They’re shifting course about every eleven seconds. This is very consistent, and it matches your theory. They’re all following a pattern.”
“Exactly. Break the code, Durris. When you do, we’ll strike.”
We stayed almost motionless for the following ninety-one minutes. By that time, even I was doubting the rationality of my plan. I stood up and joined Durris at the planning table. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the fact the command deck was heavily air-conditioned.
“We’re in optimal range now,” I said. “The enemy must think we’re dead in space. No power, no weapons—nothing.”
“Yes sir, I know sir.”
“And while that does offer some strategic advantages,” I continued, “I was hoping—”
“I’m sorry sir. There are three possibilities, and I just can’t narrow it down from there.”
I blinked. “Only three?”
“Yes sir. I’ve been stuck on this for the last half-hour. I just can’t—”
My hand came up to rest heavily on his shoulder. “Give me your three solutions. I’ll deal with it from here.”
He complied, and I pondered them. I chose one at random and ordered Zye to unload all our cannons at once. We’d fire a full-burn barrage on one of the three possible positions the enemy might shift to.
Zye frowned at me. “The usual tactic is to spread out your fire so that—”
“We only have eleven seconds, Zye,” I said. “Follow my orders, or I’ll find someone who will.”
Without another word, she engaged the algorithm. The cannons went live and after the next shift, they fired all at once.
The ship’s response was remarkable. The deck shi
vered, and the lights dimmed. We were at our power limits, even with our engines dead and disengaged.
A tremendous gush of power traveled downrange at the speed of light. We were still several light-seconds distant from the enemy, so we didn’t know instantly if we’d guessed right.
“Cycle the batteries,” I said. “Fire them all again on the second solution in seven… six—”
“Sir, the cooling cycle hasn’t completed yet.”
“I’m well aware of that. Three… two… one… fire!”
The cannons unleashed their fury again.
“Retarget on the third—” I began.
“Sir!” Zye called out. “We’ve got a flame out on seven, twelve and nineteen. Taking them offline until—”
“Fire again on my mark! Seven… six…”
“Hold it!” Yamada shouted. “We’ve got a hit!”
“Confirmed?” I demanded.
“Yes sir, on screen at extreme visual range.”
The forward screen lit up, and it was the most beautiful sight I’d seen so far today. A blossom of blue-white gas flared into existence. As soon as it faded, a second expanded into view behind it.
I began to grin. My plan had worked.
“Stand down the cannons. Send work crews to the roof to work on the failed units. Tell them to be prepared to duck in case we need to fire again.”
“Crews dispatched.”
Wheeling around to Yamada, I leaned forward anxiously. “How many did we get?”
“It’s hard to interpret, given the enemy’s placement,” she said, staring into her instrumentation. “I think we burned through the first ship right into the second and probably a third, all at once.”
She looked up at me. “That was your plan, wasn’t it, sir? That’s why you let them get close. So they’d be lined up for a single hard blow that would knock them all out at once?”
I shrugged. “They adapted, so I did the same.”
“Genius,” she muttered, turning back to her instruments.
It was Durris, however, who made the determination on how we’d scored.
“Three ships destroyed, sir, and a fourth badly damaged. They’ve broken up their formation and they’re all widely dispersed now, weaving new and differing patterns.”
I nodded, satisfied but not finished.
“Target the damaged ship. I assume it’s not moving with the same alacrity as the others?”
He glanced at me. “No sir. But…”
I looked at him. “Has the damaged ship turned away?”
“No. They’re continuing to close.”
“First Officer Durris,” I said. “I’ve fought the Stroj before. They’re not easily dissuaded. In fact, in my experience, they have to suffer very heavy losses before they break off an attack. Fire on my mark.”
Durris turned away without a word. The cannons hummed, then buzzed, then sang. Another ship was destroyed, unable to shift away fast enough. We’d made a good accounting of ourselves.
“Captain? Lorn is hailing us.”
I looked at Yamada in surprise. I hadn’t expected this. Parley in the midst of heated battle? Could it be a ruse?
“Open the channel, but keep up a random spread of predictive attacks. Maybe we can catch another of their ships before they get in close enough to shoot back.”
While the cannons buzzed and sang periodically overhead, the forward screen lit up again.
“Sparhawk, you devil,” the pirate said. He glared at me with a hate that was palpable.
“Captain,” I said, “this is a surprise. Do you wish to discuss terms?”
“Yes,” he said. “I have new demands. I’ll accept only your person as a trophy. In turn, I’ll let your ship escape, and I’ll leave the station alone. Your beloved Connatic will live on, as will all her people. What do you say?”
“What changed your mind?” I asked curiously.
He snarled at me. We both knew my smashing blow to the enemy’s snout had changed everything. He no longer had the clear upper hand.
“Do you accept my terms, or not?” he demanded.
I hesitated for a few seconds. It was a tempting offer in some ways. One life in trade for millions. Did I value my own skin so highly?
The trouble was, of course, I couldn’t trust the Stroj to keep their word. Even if they did, they’d probably come back next year and do it all again.
“I have different terms in mind,” I said. “Destroy your weapons, abandon your ships and set them adrift. If you do that, I’ll stop firing. We’ll pick you up, and I promise every Stroj who’s still breathing now will continue to do so.”
“That’s your final word on the topic?” he marveled.
“It is.”
“Truly, I expected no less from you. We’ll make fine roommates in Hell, you and I, Sparhawk.”
The channel closed.
“Continue firing,” I said.
“But sir… they’re breaking off.”
I blinked at Yamada in surprise. “Hold fire then,” I said.
Then I turned toward Durris and his planning table. I joined him at his boards.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“They’re turning to a new course, fleeing. This must be the reason.”
Tiny new contacts were on the boards now. They were distant, but closing.
“Are those missiles?”
Durris smiled. “No, sir. They’re fighters. The Connatic has finally committed herself.”
I smiled back. “I knew she would,” I said—but in truth, I’d known no such thing. It was technically a lie, but I had meant it to be morale-building, so it didn’t trouble me much.
“Sir,” Durris said a few minutes later, “I’ve figured out where the enemy is going—there’s another ER bridge out there. They’re heading for it.”
Studying the data, I came to the same conclusion. It left me in a quandary. Should I let them go, or should I blast them until their last ship was destroyed?
-18-
In the end, I let the Stroj ships escape. It was probably a misguided act of mercy, but when an enemy is defeated and fleeing, any Star Guard officer would have trouble killing them as they ran.
After all, the Stroj had been human once. They’d warped away from Basics such as myself, their term for Earthmen, but perhaps they could be taught the concept of honor once again through example. It was a faint hope, but one that I refused to give up on.
The Connatic’s fighters never caught the enemy ships as they fled, but they did return eventually to tow us back to their friendly port.
Our second visit to Tranquility Station was much more pleasant and cordial than the first had been. The Gi people welcomed all my crewmen this time with open arms. We were more than their allies now, we were their saviors.
The station’s mechanics became wholly focused on repairing Defiant’s significant damage. Ambassador Grantholm quickly took to showing exaggerated interest in anything to do with Gi fashion, culture or cuisine. There is no doubt that boasting of her familiarity of alien subtleties would cause her to be the envy of all the Great Houses of Earth.
The Connatic was particularly accommodating. She and I shared each other’s company nightly. This fact never failed to put Zye into a bad mood, but I overcame her sullen glares.
After a month, our vessel was ready to fly again. During that time, the Gi people had impressed upon us one single fact: the Stroj were not done with this system. They would return to seek vengeance at some point. This didn’t concern me too much, as they’d sworn vengeance upon Earth as well. Perhaps if I kept beating them in battle, they’d have a long list of systems they wished to destroy, and the inhabitants would band together to bring them down once and for all.
When our engines were fully operational again, I called a conference aboard Defiant. My top commanders gathered, and we discussed our next move.
Ambassador Grantholm barged in when we were in a heated debate. Durris and Yamada wanted to press ahead and explore more
systems, while I wanted to head home and share what we’d learned with Earth.
All of us looked up at the ambassador in surprise as she entered. Her brows were knit together, forming a potent glare as she swept the group with her eyes.
“So… you three again,” she said. “Does a day go by during which you don’t seek to undermine my authority?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ambassador,” I said.
“Of course not... You’ve already forgotten the division of authority on this ship? Is that it? I’m in charge when we aren’t in battle. This mission is mine to command when there’s no danger. I’m asserting that authority now.”
She stepped in and sat down across the table from me. Her aged fingers folded together into a wrinkled lattice, and she stared at me over the top of them.
“Very well,” I said. “We were just discussing our next destination. I wish to return to Earth, as we now have a great deal of data. We can transmit that data the moment we enter the Solar System, inquiring then where they think we should explore next.”
Grantholm chewed that over. It was a sound proposal. Surely, even she could see that.
“No,” she said at last. “We’ll press on. We’ll follow the Stroj. You should have destroyed those ships when you had the chance.”
“Is that what this is about, a difference in tactics?”
“Not at all. I simply wish to see where they went before they get away completely.”
“I can tell you that,” said Zye.
We all looked past the Ambassador. Zye had appeared in the doorway, behind the older woman. I frowned at this development. Zye often managed to horn her way into these events. She didn’t seem to care if she’d been invited or not.
“Zye, why are you here?” Grantholm asked pointedly.
She shrugged. “I know more about the Stroj than any of you. Will you not allow my input?”
Heaving a sigh, Ambassador Grantholm waved for her to enter and be seated.
That was another thing that irked me. Grantholm had demanded mission command again on the basis that we weren’t in a combat situation. I had no choice but to give it to her, but the point was contestable. At any moment we might be attacked again, which to me indicated we were indeed still in danger.
