Ship's Log

by Lawrence P White

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aboard the baseship, Kannick’s communicator went off in the middle of his sleep cycle. He commanded the light on, studied the message, and scowled. The admiral needed him immediately? Heck, she barely knew who he was. Could this be someone’s idea of a joke? Knowing his fellow pilots, he decided it was probably a prank.

  After ringing up the admiral’s aide, though, he sobered. He levered his large frame out of bed with surprising agility, dressed quickly, ran a comb through his dark hair, grabbed his pad, and raced for the slide tube. During the ten-minute ride, he used a personal communicator to place two squadrons on alert, then he called his chief-of-staff to gather the planning group in the wing conference room. He was still talking as he touched the door-open pad of the bridge conference room and entered.

  A meeting of senior staff was in progress, though from the looks of things, it had broken into discussion groups. The chief scientist was arguing vociferously with an associate, while the admiral and the captain stood off to the side in private conversation. Worried expressions greeted Kannick’s arrival, though several people turned to him with looks of relief.

  To his left, a three-dimensional wall screen looked out on space. Centered on the screen was a green circle with a course line depicting its trajectory toward this ship. Below and to the left of the green symbol, two yellow circles followed, their trajectories projected to join with the green ship in about a day’s time. Behind those ships, an enhanced view of the planet Earth and its single moon, Luna, hung in the void.

  The admiral beckoned, and he stepped up to her. She skipped the preliminaries and got right down to business. “Do you know what’s happening, Colonel?”

  “From the looks of the screen here,” he answered in his gruff voice, “Jarl and Arlynn are headed back, and the Harbok are after them.”

  “That’s true as far as it goes,” she said, biting her lip. “I only wish it were that simple. If it was, we could work out a rendezvous and not worry about a couple of Harbok fighters. Colonel, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Jarl is not aboard the ship. He did not survive.”

  Her words stunned Kannick. Jarl dead? He could not hide the look on his face. Grief did not begin to describe the loss he felt for his friend and superior.

  The captain grasped him by both shoulders and demanded his attention. Kannick turned dull eyes to him. “Kannick, there’s more, a lot more. You can see from the display that it would be a simple matter to join Arlynn, but we cannot. We can’t even move the baseship. Her ship is on automatic. No one is flying it.”

  Kannick heard the words, but they took time to sink in. When they did, he responded, “What do you mean, sir? Where’s Arlynn? Is she dead, too?”

  “No, at least we don’t think so. Her message stated that she was wounded and has taken the cold sleep medicine.” Kannick gasped. The captain ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “There’s more. For some reason unknown to us, Arlynn enlisted the aid of an Earthman. His name is Greg Hamilton. He is the only one aboard the ship who is functioning, though obviously he is only a passenger. But her message also states that she and Jarl partially succeeded in their mission. That ship contains Harbok artifacts that might hold the secret of the cloaking device.”

  When he saw that Kannick had processed the information, he added, “The situation is this: Jarl is dead, Arlynn is in cold sleep, an Earthman occupies the bridge, two Harbok ships pursue, and we cannot move to assist because her ship is on automatic. With Jarl gone, you now command our fighter forces. You know how badly we want those artifacts. We seek your counsel.”

  Kannick turned thoughtfully to face the screen at the far end of the room. The rest of the occupants in the room waited expectantly for him to speak, but his mind was not on them. His thoughts were out in space on the bridge of the lone green fighter. What had transpired to produce such an ugly situation? What must it be like for the helpless Earthman aboard her ship? Did he even comprehend his peril? And Arlynn. Cold sleep! She must have been desperate.

  What possible reason could she have had for enlisting an Earthman? In doing so, she had broken fundamental rules, broken them so blatantly that there must have been some compelling reason. He knew her well, and he respected her. Did she have a plan? Was he, or were they all, missing something?

  He turned to the admiral. “I can’t see that it matters under the circumstances, but which ship is it?”

  “Jarl’s ship was lost. She is aboard her unarmed scout.”

  “No immediate solutions come to mind, Ma’am. We’ll attempt a rescue, of course. Arlynn would not have sent the message if that was not her hope, but I suspect there’s more to her plan. Does her message give us any more guidance?”

  “Perhaps. She is badly wounded. Additionally, she believes she became ill from a Harbok microorganism. She believes further that she might be contagious.”

  “The incubation period?”

  “Four days for her, possibly more for a healthy individual who is not wounded.”

  “I’ll have to run simulations, but I foresee problems with a rendezvous under these circumstances. Let me get with my staff to brainstorm a solution. In the meantime, I’ll get a rescue squadron underway. We can flesh out our plan while they’re en route.”

  The admiral shifted uncomfortably. Hers was the responsibility, but no commander ever liked situations where more was unknown than was known. “We’ve discussed that very subject, Colonel. Some believe it folly to attempt a rescue. We know the Harbok are clever. Is this a ruse to draw in more of us? Could they be after this baseship? There are many variables, many issues.”

  “Discussion! How long have you known about this?”

  “We’ve been tracking the ship since it left Earth. The Harbok appeared about two hours ago. We have been in discussion since.”

  “Two hours!” Kannick directed angry eyes to her. “Ma’am, we’re wasting time. My ships are ready to launch right now. Let me at least get them started on their way. We can work out the details, even call them back later, if that is your decision. At first glance, the mechanics of a rendezvous are uncertain, but the longer we wait, the more uncertain it becomes. My counsel to you is to launch a full squadron of twelve ships immediately. I’ll send my newest and best-equipped fighters. If we do not launch now, there will be no opportunity for later plans. The Harbok will not take long to finish off one unarmed, unmanned ship.”

  She paused, then reached a decision. “Very well, Colonel, but launch only six fighters. They will be more than adequate. I’m very nervous about the unknowns here.” She saw him preparing a retort and motioned for silence with her finger. “I have a bad feeling about this. My first responsibility is to preserve my ship. I will not weaken my defenses.”

  Kannick was about to give a sharp retort, but he hesitated when he saw the look in her eyes. He decided that he, too, had a bad feeling about this. Six ships would have to do.

  He began issuing orders over his communicator before he was out of the room. He would personally brief his crews before sending them off, then he would get together with his staff to come up with a plan. Only then would he return to the admiral’s meeting.

  His thoughts suddenly returned to Jarl, and he felt week at the knees. No, he would not inform his men of Jarl’s death. Not yet. He needed them totally focused on the problem at hand until this mess could be brought under control.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Greg fretted the time away by eating a light meal and taking two more aspirin to quiet his throbbing head. He had almost given up hope when, after three hours, he got his answer. Six green ships appeared on the screen near the baseship with vector arrows pointing in his direction. A short time later, a faint green course line showed their intercept point with him. They would reach him slightly before the Harbok would.

  “Hooray! It’s working!” he cheered silently. If his luck held, he could just dash by the friendly ships and let them duke it out with the Harbok. Six to two was reasonable odd
s, even if the Harbok were better fighters. As near as he could tell, he would reach the friendly ships in approximately one more day. It was simply impossible to be more accurate than that with the information at his disposal. Approximately one day after that, he would arrive at the baseship and his job would be over.

  Only two more days and he would be there.

  As his initial excitement wore off, he noticed that the projected course line for the green ships from Arlynn’s baseship continued for a short distance past the point where he would intercept them, and that section of their course line was blinking. That made sense. The computer was smart enough to know they were coming to him, but not smart enough to know what they would do after they got here.

  A little while later, the computer showed the Harbok ships separating. One fell behind, and soon there were two separate intercept points for the Harbok ships. The slower ship continued dropping further behind, then it winked out of the display.

  Had it broken down? It did not reappear, and he wondered if the repairs the Harbok had made after Arlynn and Jarl’s raid had been insufficient. Well, one less to worry about he thought happily. This was getting better all the time.

  His thoughts returned to the blinking portion of the friendly ship’s course line, but he was again interrupted by a new flashing symbol near the bottom of the screen. The computer was trying to project something there, but it appeared unable to make up its mind which symbol to use. It presented one shape after another, all in yellow, and each appeared to be a different type of Harbok ship.

  What was the problem, he wondered?

  The symbol finally cleared and was replaced with a yellow square surrounded by a circle divided into three segments. The segments kept blinking.

  “Uh, oh,” he said under his breath. “I think this might be bad.”

  What was the computer trying to tell him? The symbol was the same one used to depict Arlynn’s baseship, only this one was yellow. There was no velocity arrow telling him which way it was going – the computer had obviously had trouble defining the ship, let alone computing a trajectory. Was there really a ship out there? Perhaps the blinking segmented circle meant it was a guess, that insufficient data was available to define whatever was there.

  He threw his head back against his seat to gaze thoughtfully through the top of the ship. His eyes were not looking at anything in particular—instead, his mind sifted through possibilities. His best guess was that his timing was extremely unfortunate, that a Harbok supply ship had chosen this moment to come to Earth. He had to assume, of course, that the ship was there regardless of the computer’s uncertainty. Perhaps it had just come out of StarDrive and had taken a moment to turn on its cloaking device. That might explain the computer’s lack of data. Most crucial to him was whether the new arrival knew about the battle forming up out here. He returned to his flight planning display and decided to test his ability with the computer.

  He placed the flight planning marker over the possible baseship, then he moved the pointer to Earth and pushed the ‘enter’ button. A yellow course line soon appeared, and he nodded in satisfaction. That would be an average-speed course any unsuspecting arrival would probably use to get to Earth. He next moved the marker to a position he estimated was one hour closer to Earth along its course. That would establish a reasonable time for radio signals to reach it from Earth or from the other ship following him. It might take longer, but he was willing to work with wild estimates. He next centered the marker on his own ship and pushed the ‘enter’ button. A long fifteen seconds passed before he got his answer. The Harbok course line blinked twice, but the line remained unchanged. He took that to mean no solution. But wait a minute—he had forgotten to program maximum speed into the Harbok’s course after it learned about him. He made the necessary adjustments, then he hit the ‘enter’ button. The course line winked out. A new line replaced it, a line showing an intercept with him well short of Arlynn’s baseship but after joining with the fighters racing to his rescue.

  “Uh, oh,” he murmured.

  His hand trembled as he reached again for the keypad. This time he programmed a course from the Harbok baseship to Arlynn’s baseship. To his surprise, he found that the Harbok ship could reach that position even sooner than it could intercept him. Which target would it choose?

  He wondered if the Harbok baseship would simply blow him out of the sky, or would it be able to capture him with some sort of tractor beam? When they learned about the cargo he carried and that he had already destroyed one of their ships, he decided they would opt for the former.

  With hours left before anything happened, he got up to wander the ship, his mind on the tactical situation. He eventually found himself next to Arlynn’s bed, staring down at her spare form. He had promised her his best. Was he giving it to her?

  “What would you do?” he asked, pacing beside her. “I have no weapons, I’m going flat out for help, but it’s not enough. The Harbok ship behind me isn’t really a problem, your guys are closing on us at a million miles an hour, and . . .” His eyes widened. “Wait a minute!”

  He dashed back to the bridge, more concerned now than when he had discovered the first Harbok ships in pursuit. With just a glance, he discovered the tactical situation had changed significantly during his absence. Three of the six friendly fighters had dropped back, and their projected course lines had disappeared. They must have made the same calculations he had made. Were they being recalled to the baseship for its own protection?

  Three to the rescue was still adequate against the single Harbok behind him, but his attention focused on the course line of the three ships. After intercepting him, the line continued past him as a faint flashing segment, then it disappeared. Of course, he thought bitterly, how could he have missed it? They would reach him at some ridiculously high speed and keep right on going. They would reach the Harbok ship behind him almost immediately, but they would only have one extremely high-speed pass before their momentum carried them beyond.

  His hopes for rescue disappeared. He knew instinctively that Arlynn’s ships did not have time to slow down and rendezvous with the Harbok fighter in time to fight it.

  He stared at the display, overwhelmed. The situation was hopeless. Everything moved at a snail’s pace, yet every passing second brought his and Arlynn’s deaths closer. One Harbok fighter was bad enough, but a whole baseship? He didn’t stand a chance.

  If he had to die, it was in a good cause, but he wasn’t ready to die yet. And he had promised Arlynn he would give her his best shot. Were there any other options for the two of them he had not yet considered?

  He leaned forward and studied the display intently. By now it was fairly cluttered with symbols of ships, projected course lines, and intercept points. All the players were there. The stage was set. The only unknown factor was the Harbok baseship, but even its moves were predictable to a certain degree. If the players continued on their present courses, he was a dead man. There would be no rescue for him, for Arlynn, or for the gray bag. This ship was the prize, dead or alive, and from the looks of things, he would not live past tomorrow. There was no help for them unless he found a way to engineer it on his own.

  He suddenly felt Arlynn’s presence behind his right shoulder, just where she had stood for most of his training. He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one there of course. He had known it was his imagination, but still, he felt her encouragement, even if it was only in his mind.

  With quick, precise movements, he began punching keys. Data on the screen changed. He zoomed his vantage point backward until he was looking at the situation from the viewpoint of the Harbok crew chasing him. It was quickly apparent that they had only one target—him. From their point of view, the green fighters rushing to the intercept point were a concern, but only a minor concern. He was sure the Harbok’s shield would protect it from the few lucky hits the green fighters might make as they went by. After that, the three green ships would be out of the picture.

  He
punched more keys and slued the screen around until he was looking at the action from the perspective of the Harbok baseship’s captain. The baseship had two juicy targets, both within range, namely himself and Arlynn’s baseship. Assuming the Harbok captain had learned about Greg’s cargo, he, Greg, had to be the primary target. But the baseship’s responsibility would not necessarily be to take him out. Its responsibility was to the mission, to ensure that Greg was destroyed. That might be better accomplished by protecting the lone Harbok fighter while it did its job. It was hard to tell, the Harbok baseship could go either way depending upon where its captain felt he was most needed. Rarely did a commander willingly bypass a major enemy stronghold, which Arlynn’s baseship definitely represented. At least he hoped it represented a significant threat to the Harbok.

  If he was the Harbok captain, he would go for the baseship to tie it up. It would then be unable provide additional resources to Greg. The Harbok captain might even decide to send a few extra fighters towards Greg, just in case. They would arrive late, but so long as Arlynn’s baseship was tied up and he could not get away, who cared? Their only concern was that he not get far enough out of the solar system to use his StarDrive, and he had a very, very long way to go before he could do that.

  Then another thought struck him. The Harbok believed that he, Greg, was flying an armed fighter, even though he wasn’t. Was one Harbok fighter enough to take him out? Surely Arlynn’s people were not such poor fighters that one Harbok fighter was judged adequate to ensure his destruction. After all, from their perspective, he had already shot down one of them on Earth. And they would take no chances—they would prosecute this battle as efficiently as a good businessman would prosecute a business deal. They would leave no loose ends. The odds just did not add up in the Harbok’s favor. Something was missing.

  He stared at the symbol of the lone Harbok fighter with his brow furrowed. The situation demanded more Harbok ships. Were there any more out here? Just how effective was this cloaking device of theirs? Did it provide them with complete invisibility? His eyes narrowed as he looked at the single yellow symbol. What was really going on with that ship? In fact . . . wait a minute! What had happened to the second fighter that had set out from Earth? It had dropped back, presumably with a mechanical problem of some kind, but it had not returned to Earth. He would have seen that on the screen. It had disappeared. Did it blow up, or could it have just become invisible? Surely, if it was out here limping along with a serious problem, regardless of what direction it was headed, it would still show up on the screen.