by Ken Britz
Cowan scanned the faces of the work crew. They were deep into the repairs effective, but their expressions were determination thinly masking fear. Task focus made it easy to forget they were trying to hunt down and kill an enemy without being killed. But when they got their repairs done? I can’t show doubt. I can’t show fear. Venger drew confidence from her leaders.
She checked over shoulders of the fusion technicians to ensure the core was on its way to being restored. “All right, you got it. I’ll check over at damage control then head up to the bridge to get us back in the fight.”
“Give ’em hell, ma’am,” the electrician gave a hearty smile and salute. Some people relish this shit, she thought. War was hell and death, not a damn game. The gravity warning sounded in her suit and she grabbed the ladder just as Venger regained gravity under thrust. She climbed up through the ship, letting her the sound of her breathing drown out her thoughts. Her suit chirped. She typed the command code on the pad as she slid out of the j-tube into the pressurized portion of the ship. She slapped the helmet retract. “XO.”
“XO, good work in auxiliary. We’re near battle ready. I want you to go to auxiliary bridge,” Rogers said.
Cowan frowned. They were getting in close to the sub and he was concerned the enemy might strike the bridge. The auxiliary bridge was every bit as functional as the main bridge but smaller and near the hardened compression core. She was only a compartment away from it now. She frowned. She wanted to be on the bridge, close to sensors and to this captain. “Aye, sir.”
“We won’t get many more chances to stop the sub’s advance to the shipyard, but we’ve got to do it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cowan went to the auxiliary bridge, manned by a battle station team and Weps and the supply officer, Tanaka, who led damage control efforts. Weps moved to the Pilot/Weapons creche, and Cowan sat in the command creche. She punched in the controls and the captain sent his authorization codes to her console for control overrides. That, at least, was a measure of his trust in her. She could fight the ship if they lost him. She passed alternate controls to Weps, who would use them when necessary for the weapons arrays. She mirrored the bridge displays and ran through the systems scan, flagging systems that needed attention after this was over and flicking them to Tanaka’s queue. She had an angry knot in her stomach, and it was because she was preparing to take command of Venger. It felt wrong because it was wrong. She was the executive officer, not the captain. She wanted to be Venger’s CO the right way, through selection. War had a way of making things complicated. Her mind flashed on Anders and the bodies floating in space. She dismissed the idea that Rogers had any premonition about his fate. He was a smart strategist and a brilliant mathematician. He’d just run the odds as the sub brought Venger down notch-by-notch. She was buying into superstition. She settled back, scanning the sensor arrays. The sub was out there, and if she was injured, Venger would find her.
13
HFSS Kuro Hai
Rigel B Outer System
0345 U.Z.
1254.12.13 A.F.
Reed asked the Flight Surgeon, who was checking the captain over, “Is she going to be all right?”
“Her medical readouts are concerning, but I’d have to get her out of her suit to learn any more,” Dr. Lin said, her eyes inquiring. Reed frowned, and Lin’s white medical spacesuited shoulders shrugged. “I didn’t think so. She’s stable, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“The ship has a crew—”
“I’m well aware of my duties, proconsul,” Lin snapped. “Let me care for the injured in the boat. You take care of the boat!”
Reed flushed, anger rising.
“Exec,” a voice said behind him. Reed let go of his anger. He slid the door to the captain’s cabin shut and turned to Tan, who’d arrived floating down the ladderwell, his mag boots clicking onto the deck. “I ran some diagnostics and the starboard attack hull fairing looks to be jammed with debris. If we tried to deploy it, it would damage the launcher.”
“Why should that matter? We have the port attack fin,” Reed said.
Tan frowned. “The skipper dictated the loadout for the starboard fin. I could have my crew mirror the loadout on the port fin, but I’d like to fix this. I spoke to Engineer Ito and it’ll be an hour before they bring the impeller online. Fixing this will take two men forty minutes. Ten to get outboard, twenty to clear debris and ten to return.”
“What about the damage control bots?”
Tan gave him a confused look. “The subspace hull generators are shedding dark energy. That interferes with bot operation. They’re also not stealth shrouded. Two spacesuits won’t be noticed that close to the hull. DC bots will.”
“That’s right, it slipped my mind.” Reed mulled over the plan, trying to mask his annoyance. He didn’t like Tan. He was too tight with the captain. Come to think of it, there were far too many crewmen tight with the captain. He slapped the comm panel. “Engineering, XO, what’s the status of the gravitic?”
“XO, Engineering, gravitic impeller resetting. It will take approximately sixty minutes to bring back to full thrust.”
“Very well.” He eyed Tan. “As long as one of the crew is you. And make it quick.”
Tan gave a wry smile. “I wouldn’t ask someone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. Sir.” He gave a long pause after the last word as if he expected Reed to volunteer to do it himself. “How’s the skipper?” Tan said almost as an afterthought.
Reed was thrown off for a second. “I’m not sure.” He didn’t want Tan thinking too much about the captain. “Status of torpedo tubes?”
“We’re reloading—”
“Standard torpedo loadout?”
“Yes, sir,” Tan said, brows knitting. “Per captain’s orders.”
“Load two Backbreakers in Tubes Three and Four.”
Tan’s demeanor changed, as though he realized the intent behind Reed’s words.
I’m in command now, Reed thought.
“I thought the plan was to conserve Backbreakers for the shipyard?” Tan pulled up his terminal to scan the ship’s inventory.
“No plan survives first contact with the enemy.”
Tan nodded. “I’ll direct the changes on my way-out hull.” After Tan departed, Reed was left wondering what was wrong with the Kuro crew. Didn’t they know the Hegemony depended on every cog in its grand design to function? He couldn’t wait to get thrust to the ship and into the fight. The Backbreakers were ship killers, and the corvette had been hounding them too long. No more.
Reed returned to the bridge, checked the astrodisplay, aware the whole bridge crew—the pilot, the co-pilot, fire control, astrogation, and ship’s systems personnel was gazing at him expectantly. Master Chief Wagoner said, “How’s the skipper, sir?”
“She’s comatose,” Reed replied cursorily and he realized he’d said the wrong thing.
Wagoner’s deep-set eyes judged Reed and dismissed him. Wagoner was a dyed-in-the-wool subspacer, and he would never accept a standard spacer as his executive officer. Reed didn’t need the COB’s approval. With Kenga out of the picture, Reed was in command now, by procedure and tradition. It didn’t matter what Wagoner thought, and he would follow orders. The mission mattered.
Reed caught the astrogator’s eye. Jin gave a slight nod, and Reed was sure there was something in that. Jin approved of him taking command, perhaps. He filed it away. Jin could be useful—an ally aboard Kuro. Reed strapped into his creche and pulled up the command display. He shifted command controls to his system, but a few required the CO’s personal authorization, which was confusing. As Executive Officer, he would normally have full privileges in the event of the CO’s incapacitation. Or rather, he should have, but there were a handful of systems he hadn’t been granted access to.
He considered these segregated systems. The forward escape hatch, the starboard attack fin and the fin launch loading mechanism. He also considered the possibilities that those locked systems mean
t. Did Tan know why the starboard fin was command locked? Perhaps he did. He ran an inventory check of that fin’s launcher, but it had the same loadout it had the entire transit from Tian-7 Station. He had Hegemony override as the highest-ranking aristocrat and proconsul. After a moment’s pause, he used his Hegemony credentials to override the fin loading mechanism. He would need that in the near term.
Reed switched on the ship’s PA and paused again: who should be his second? Engineer Ito would be next in line, but neither he nor Tan were aligned with him. Should he buck the chain of command? He glanced at Wagoner. Reed would have to set aside being the proconsul for command. That consoled him immensely, and it was best to not bother in the interim. “This is the Executive Officer. Captain Kenga has taken ill and is unable to perform her duties. Therefore, I am assuming command of the Kuro in order to complete our mission. That is all.”
Wagoner returned to his piloting console, unperturbed. Reed snapped off the comm panel and punched up sensors for a spectrum feed of the corvette. She was just out of torpedo range. Kuro could use lasers and particle beams, but that would surely give away their position. No, they would need to close the distance to give the Backbreakers a chance.
He punched up a set of coordinates and worked out a closing solution.
“Pilot, stand by for closing course and speed when we’re underway,” Reed said, sending the updated trajectory to the pilot’s screens.
The pilot, a young but experienced ensign nodded.
The Backbreaker torpedoes were best used against enemy shipping and larger vessels, but they could be dangerously effective against the corvette if Kuro got in too close. Was this a good strategic move? He worked out his attack plan. When he’d made his calculations, he settled in. He’d show these subspacers how to kill a warship.
14
GLSS Venger
Rigel B Outer System
0347 U.Z.
1254.12.13 A.F.
Rogers thought about the irony of his ship’s command. When his fleet career dead-ended after his executive officer command he’d been relegated to Office of Spatial Intelligence. He’d been fortunate someone from OSI remembered his brilliance at fold-space physics. Now he was two solyars into his command of Venger, finally comfortable with himself and his ability to command. And here he was, fighting against an enemy he probably once knew.
Rogers’ comm panel buzzed, pulling him out of his reverie. “Captain.”
“Basan, sir. I have something on spectra. It’s intermittent but follows the pattern of cosmic debris. Automated systems filtered it, but it’s in range and vicinity of the sub, sir.”
Rogers punched up Basan’s display. He examined the time scale and fit the data model to a tumbling asteroid. “It’s small…” Rogers switched comms to the auxiliary bridge.
“I see it, sir,” Cowan said. “Have you looked at the spectral data?”
Rogers switched to spectral data. “Iron, copper, traces of graphene alloys… it’s manmade.”
“There’s plenty of space detritus because of the shipyard in-system…” Rogers could almost hear Cowan’s mind bending around the problem. “I’m matching it to weapons database, and it looks like it’s some of our own torpedo material. It could have been part of the shell.”
Rogers leaned back in his creche.
“It’s inside the target envelope and within the potential strike zone of our torpedo, but we can’t say that the subspace ship is there, really.”
“It’s something, though. Worth a look, if we can get thrust.”
“We should close-in on it, sir.” Cowan’s voice was calm. Rogers was doubting himself just at that moment, but what choice did he have? Without Orca, it was a one ship show. “If it turns out to be nothing, we can resume our hunt. She’s not in subspace. That much we’re sure of, sir.”
Every moment Venger waited was an opportunity for the sub to shift back to subspace. Perhaps they could confirm and engage… “I agree, exec.” He cut sensors into their conversation. “Basan, feed data to fire control and astrogation.” He switched to maneuvering. “Maneuvering, Captain, status of emergency repairs? I need thrust.”
Green lights flickered on the starboard main panel. “Conn, maneuvering, half thrust restored to starboard main with thruster compensation port. Repairs can continue under normal gee. Full weapons power on auxiliary core, though we have several cross-connections to get the core operational.”
“Do we have a limit?”
“We’ll do whatever we can to keep fighting, sir,” the engine room watch officer said. Rogers noted a touch of fear in her voice.
“Excellent work. Buckle up, we’re going in for another round.” Rogers switched off and addressed his bridge crew. “Pilot, ahead full, steer closing course as computed.”
“Aye, sir.” The thrust alarm blared and the comfortable one gravity inertial returned. Venger righted herself and turned to close range.
If she was playing dead, she’ll see us coming, Rogers thought. If she was crippled, so much the better.
“Weapons, conn, once we’re on an intercept, you’ll have thrust control for rail gun. Status of torpedo loadout?”
“Conn, Weapons, two standard fish loaded in tubes one and two. One Betta in tube four. Do we have time to load tube three in route?” Weps Estrada replied.
“You’d have to sleeve a standard, so let’s use another Betta.” Rogers flagged the request for the forward torpedo room to load tubes.
“Yes, sir.”
Rogers switched to the PA. “This is the captain. We’re closing range with the enemy. Our nose is bloodied, but we have weapons advantage. Stand by for a long fight. That is all.”
She’ll see us coming, and maybe we’ll make her flinch.
15
HFSS Kuro Hai
Rigel B Outer System
0348 U.Z.
1254.12.13 A.F.
Tan attached his line to the ship’s inner lock seal and Chief Dale did likewise. Tan wanted to take a hull tech with him to assess damage, but Kelly Dale would have none of it. Dale was a competent subspacer with decades of experience; Tan couldn’t say no.
“Walk in the park,” Dale intoned. “Be good to stretch our legs.”
“Your idea of ‘getting out and seeing the sights’ is weird,” Tan said and evacuated the air in the lock.
“Did I ever tell you about the time we visited Levoy’s Star? I was on the Itachi Hai before the war when we spent most of our time exploring new systems…”
They pulled themselves out into space, leaving the lock open—a hole in the ship. The ship tumbled like an asteroid and the whirling stars gave Tan momentary vertigo.
“It was a neutron star, see, but no planets had formed. It had this massive ring of gas around it. You could float in it without a helmet if you wanted….” The spinning stars didn’t seem to bother Dale, but then again Tan couldn’t see through Dale’s dark faceplate. He could only hear Dale’s nonchalant tenor.
The Kuro’s hull glittered and pulsed, its stealth shroud refracting, bending, and transmitting the light received on the opposite side of the ship. Close-in, the hull’s shape warped the light surrounding it despite real space being more or less flat and uniform. It was a weird effect. Tan’s vertigo didn’t go away, and he realized that it wasn’t the Kuro spinning that nauseated him, it was the dark matter accumulation on the hull. He couldn’t see it, but in such concentration, he could feel it. Kuro’s shape wasn’t just for a low spectrum profile against tridar return, it also served as the most efficient design to shed the dark matter accumulated in subspace. Tan didn’t grasp the physics of it himself, but the smoother the surface, the better.
He and Dale floated to the hull, adhering to it with gripping feelers and oversized boots. The two men were cabled together, much like mountain climbers of old. Tan remembered the Vaniryama mountains of Midgard-Sekai, of the weeks he spent in those cloud-topped peaks. It made the vertigo easier to ignore.
Kuro’s hull was scarred and pitted fr
om countless micro-abrasions and glancing blasts that scorched but didn’t damage the tough stealth material. Kuro wasn’t an old ship, but she’d seen combat, all of it with her first and only captain—Kenga. Tan liked Kuro that way. She was the second in her line of Arbitrators and Tan hoped for a chance to command one like Kuro. That made him smile as he followed Dale, but then remembered the oddity of this new mission. Their proconsul wasn’t a spacer whose only job was to record and advise the captain, he was also the executive officer. It made for an uncomfortable dynamic. Tan didn’t like it. His confidence in the Admiralty and Hegemony eroded because of it. If the trend continued, the gradual seeding of the Hegemonic Fleet with people like Reed made the chance of command for Tan less likely. Executive Officer was Tan’s next career step, but if this was a trend, he’d never make it to command.
Tan sighed. He was all for unity, but not for submission to a class of people with less knowledge and experience in charge of a subspace ship. The only thing was, that he disliked the Galactic League more—entire systems of people with no focus and no central authority. Just their fleet and shipping authorities. That, to Tan, seemed rife with the possibility of abuses. At least the Hegemonic Fleet was accountable to its homeworlds. The Galactic League Fleet was not. It probably didn’t hurt that the most powerful arm of the Hegemonic Fleet was the subspace component.
Tan barely listened to Dale’s rambling story about swimming out hull during a routine space exploration mission. Dale was chatting on the suit-to-suit, but Tan, less experienced in out-hull space walking, had to concentrate on the grippers keeping him on the hull so he didn’t drift into space.
The torpedo impact damage to the hull came into view. Where the micro-abrasions gave the hull a whorled, time-worn look, the damage from the torpedo was like a burn scar along the hull’s length, trailing away at an angle. It was forward of the bridge and Tan silently thanked his weapons crew and machines. Torpedoes could punch through hulls and rip apart the insides, killing crew and crippling a vessel. Kuro’s close-in weapon systems caused the torpedo to explode before impact, throwing a slug of hot metal and a burst of rending debris, most of which was absorbed by the hull’s dense outer skin.
