Invisible Enemy

by Ken Britz

  They made it to the starboard fin and saw the problem: a large chunk of torpedo shrapnel was wedged into the groove of the hull fairing—the portion of the hull that slid away when the fin was deployed. It seemed impossible, but Tan followed the impact scar’s shadow along the hull. He shook his head inside the helmet.

  Dale said, “Looks wedged in tighter than a—”

  “Do we have to cut it out?” Tan interrupted, checking his chronometer. It had taken them eleven minutes to get to the fairing, longer than his estimate.

  Dale pulled a multitool from his suit and grabbed the large piece of shrapnel. It was over a meter long, twisted and rent. He braced his feet and hauled. “Gods almighty!” he panted after a few moments of trying.

  “Want me to try, old man?” Tan said with a grin that Dale couldn’t see.

  “Fine. Imagine it’s a rectal orifice. Might help you, sir,” Dale said with a chuckle.

  “Did it have any give?” Tan asked.

  “It’s wedged good. Damnedest thing I ever saw!”

  “Maybe we can work it out.”

  “Do we have that kind of time?”

  “Get the cutter ready while I give it a go.”

  “Fine. Big mountain gorilla like you should be able to do something. Just don’t fuck up the fairing. We won’t be able to deploy the fin if the fairing can’t retract.”

  “I know, Chief, I know,” Tan said as he braced himself against the hull. He gave the shrapnel a tentative tug and then a mighty heave. His bones cracked, and his muscles knotted. He felt something scraping through his boots. Thoraijin! If the fairing retract hydraulics couldn’t move it, what hope did he have? Tan tried to wiggle it, but it was awkward to do in microgravity. After what seemed like an eternity, something gave. He looked down and was still holding onto the tool and shrapnel. “It moved.”

  “No, dummy. Sir. The ship moved,” Dale motioned at the stars. “Is it getting closer?”

  The corvette’s dot was steady in his heads-up display. “I’m not getting tactical updates out hull and it’s too far to tell. Kuro could get closer, but I only have historical data.” He bent and worked the shrapnel. His grippers and gloves were tough, and the jagged metal was easy to work without damaging his suit. Physics is a fickle yet predictable bitch, he mused. He wrenched again, and the metal gave. The hull vibrated and glints sparkled in his vision.

  Something struck his helmet. One of his feet came free of the hull one for a heart-stopping second. Targeting lasers flashed on his helmet’s overlay. “Shit!” He re-anchored his boot the hull and shuffled away from the weapon blisters firing around him. Something was pulling him. “Chief?” Tan ducked down to grab the hull. He had the shrapnel and tool in his hand! “I got it!” he said.

  The laser and particle beam ports opened. He dodged, releasing the shrapnel then stowing Dale’s multitool. The pulling sensation was back. He turned, expecting Dale to be signaling him.

  “Dale?” Tan asked, finding the man floating above him. He pulled on the tether and grabbed Dale’s arm to pull him down through a cloud of glittering debris. Dale was hit. Tan touched his comm pad to Dale’s chest plate.

  The vitals came back red. Dale’s helmet had been holed.

  Tan let go of Dale and wrapped his arm around the cable so his hands were free. He crouched low, his mind clouded with anger and fear. He knew where the weapons blisters were and avoided them, their targeting lasers giving only a fraction of time before emitting a deadly, often invisible blast. He moved away from the particle cannons dosing him with high levels of gamma.

  The ship maneuvered with thrusters, but Kuro wasn’t under propulsion yet, thank the gods—he’d be thrown off the ship—or worse, turned to paste when the ship exceeded hundreds of gravities of acceleration. If Tan could stay clinging to the hull without getting holed, he could make it to the lock and inside. His suit buzzed a warning, and he pulled himself closer to the hull. Kuro shuddered under him under him from an impact. The ship slewed and yawed, like it was a bucking bronco trying to throw him. Tan focused on the lock, taking crouching steps toward it while the ship under him fought back.

  He tried not to panic at being outside the ship in a firefight, detaching parts of his mind. He concentrated on his breathing and suit alarms—radiation, hyperventilation, and medico. He glanced at the chronometer in his helmet display. They’d only been out-hull for twenty minutes. Part of him was angry at Reed for giving them no warning. A line-of-sight comm laser would’ve done the job, but Tan couldn’t worry about that now. Yet another part of him wanted to fist pump and cheer his weapons team on, but that part was tiny and far away in the back of his skull. The largest part was the fear that Kuro would leave him, like a mother shunning an unwanted child.

  Tan moved on instinct, clinging, sometimes hanging, sometimes climbing toward the airlock. Get to the ’lock.

  The ship swung violently, and he lost his grip. He grabbed his cable and held on. The open lock was just a meter away—lights inside pulsing red and orange. Orange? Prepare for thrust, the tiny rational part of his mind said.

  His left shoulder was agony, and his visor fogged. Alarms blared in his ears and pulsed on his display. He felt the prick of the medject as it flooded his system with a biomolecular payload of painkillers. He pulled hard, fighting the swing and slammed into the Kuro, knocking the wind out of him and ripping the cable from his hands. His boot gripper caught hold of the hull, and he slammed his hand grips down to adhere himself. He felt around with one hand, blind to the space outside. The laser strike damaged his display, flickering with only half of his information. His ears popped as his suit compensated for leaks. He found the edge of the ’lock with his bulky fingertips and pulled himself in. He was there!

  The ship changed trajectory again and threw him into the lock, then dragged him back to the opening. Out of the right side of his visor, he saw Dale’s body hanging in space, arms akimbo and pleading. Tan slid toward the lip of the airlock hatch. The ship juddered as it launched a salvo of torpedoes. The ’lock! Stay in the ’lock!

  Tan struggled against the g force and fumbled for his multi-tool. He couldn’t pull it out of the stow. His hands were still in the grippers. He tugged at the latches and seals, freeing his hands. Fumbling, he found Dale’s multi-tool and tried to cut the cable. The ship swung and slammed his head against the bulkhead. Tan saw stars in his helmet. He lost the multi-tool somewhere in the fog of his visor. Maybe into space.

  He was going to die. Dale would take him out into space. Would it be all that bad? He fumbled around blindly, his pain-fogged mind searching for a way to get rid of the dead weight that was going to kill him. The fingers of his right hand found the emergency close mechanism recess. He caught the handle and pulled, but couldn’t get any leverage, unable to turn with g-force pushing him while the body was pulling him into space. He clung to the mechanism, sweating. The ship changed vector again, swinging his body and wrenching his arm. He ignored the pain, willing himself not to let go. The airlock closed, thin mating blades severing the cable, and Tan slammed against the floor, breathing hard. He was back aboard Kuro. His suit responded to the changing g-force, squeezing and keeping him conscious. Immobilized, he laughed weakly and closed his eyes against the flickering helmet display. After a moment, the nanomolecular layers of his helmet visor shed the damaged outer skin and he could see again. The first thing he saw was the buddy cable, cleanly severed.

  “I’m sorry, Chief,” he whispered.

  16

  GLSS Venger

  Rigel B Outer System

  0352 U.Z.

  1254.12.13 A.F.

  “Weapons, conn, give them another slug volley,” Rogers said as Venger approached the tenuous sensor reading.

  “Conn, Weapons, aye,” Estrada replied, and the ship went through another cycle of alarm, turn, fire slugs, return to course and burn.

  “Fire in auxiliary! Evacuating auxiliary!” engineering announced over the PA.

  “Loss of primary power. Switchi
ng to secondary port, stand by,” Weps replied coolly from the auxiliary bridge. “Recharging rail induction coils.”

  Rogers adjusted course to keep the more capable starboard sensor arrays on the enemy. The crew responded as any well-trained crew does, Venger’s was no exception. He scanned the astrodisplay and tacticals as reports came in—the auxiliary compartment was flooded with argon to put out the fire… the fire was out… re-entering the compartment for assessment… Rogers kept an ear on the reports, but had to fight the ship. He tapped comms panel. “Engineering, captain, status of the auxiliary core.”

  “Core in emergency shutdown. Magnetic containment in safe mode.”

  “Torpedoes inbound!” sensors warned as plume drive signatures scrawled across the display.

  “Sensors, Conn, flag them and trace enemy ship’s location.” Rogers tapped the forward anti-torpedo weapons, selected two, and held them for close-in launch. They were small, with a short fuel range and were only effective if no spectral countermeasures had been deployed. Venger was closing in on the enemy, so using spectrum emissions would be problematic. The bridge crew tensed with anticipation.

  “Conn, sensors, aye. Ship is trailing original position, updating.”

  “Weps, hold fire until enemy torpedoes countered, then fire another slug volley,” Rogers said.

  “Aye, sir. Without a core, I only have enough charge for one volley. Starboard main is providing full thrust.”

  The sensor array alarms lit up, and Rogers fired the anti-torpedoes. Optics locked onto the incoming enemy torpedoes. The first went into evasive maneuvers, spiraling away to disengage. The smaller anti-torpedo arced tightly, and the enemy missile vanished in a bright flash second later. The second enemy torpedo evaded its counter-weapon, but its range differentiation brought it close enough to gain Venger and override its evasion protocols. Venger’s forward weapon ring whirred and rattled with close-in fire. The ship rolled to bring stationary systems to bear. The enemy torpedo, evading fire, was caught by the anti-torpedo. Another flash and it was gone.

  “Weps!” Rogers barked.

  “Firing,” Weps reported.

  Rogers gripped the console as the ship spun to sling artillery at the sub. When things settled down, he took stock.

  “No hit, third volley.”

  “Unable to fire,” Weps reminded him. “Rail batteries charging.”

  Rogers frowned. With their spread, Venger’s volley should’ve at least made one solid strike. What happened? Had they been given the slip again? He thumbed the comm panel. “Sensors, what’s on ASDIN?”

  “Conn, Sensors, ASDIN is offline, sir. We lost it shifting to auxiliary power. Restarting.”

  “Pilot, intercept solution. Based on last data. Full thrust.” This wasn’t good. What was she doing now? Was she in subspace? He hoped the ASDIN wasn’t down for the count. It was well-tested gear, but as the old saying went, inspection ready unit does not pass combat. High inertial gravity pressed down on Rogers as the Venger swung to pursue.

  “Conn, engineering, emergency light off port core. Five minutes to full power,” Mitchum reported.

  “Acknowledged,” Rogers said.

  “Taking particle beam and laser fire!” Powell said from astro; the display sparkled with prediction points as plasma bolts hammered into Venger’s hull. The enemy sub was arcing away from them. The pilot adjusted course. Venger fired relentlessly with particle beams, lasers, and slugs at the sub that corkscrewed in randomized evasion. Venger’s hull took a beating, shedding damaged plating and shifting to protect vital systems and personnel. Klaxons blared as decks were sealed against breaches.

  “Ready torpedoes,” Rogers said, lighting up her port weapons array. Venger slewed and crabbed in space, trying to drive broad to the enemy and close range at the same time—the balance between effective torpedo range and bringing shipboard weapons to bear.

  “Loss of starboard thruster arrays four and six,” copilot said.

  “I’ve got it,” the pilot said and Venger shuddered, as other thrusters compensated.

  “Good solution,” Weps confirmed.

  “Fire port salvo,” Rogers ordered.

  “Shooting tubes two and six. Malfunction in tube four.”

  Venger shuddered again as weapons fired, the torpedoes’ speed lines like a shooting star on the astrodisplay. This close-in, it would be harder to fool the torpedoes with spectral jamming, as the torpedoes would rely on their programmed solutions.

  “Continue closing,” Rogers said. “Continue fire until we deplete local batteries.”

  “Three minutes to port core power,” Mitchum reported.

  “Loss of power in the forward weapon ring, starboard turret seventeen. Decompression on deck four and five,” Astro reported.

  “Sir,” Cowan said, her voice cutting through the bridge chatter on his personal circuit. “Should we continue on a trailing solution?”

  “Excellent reminder, XO,” Rogers said and ordered the pilot on a broader aspect.

  “Torpedoes inbound, full spread,” Sensors reported.

  Four torpedoes arced toward Venger. Rogers wanted to shout to the weapons and defensive systems crews to pour everything they had on the incoming torpedoes. He selected the next battery of anti-torpedoes and set the ranges to closing demarcations. They launched at regular intervals as the enemy torpedoes closed range. Come on, Venger, he thought, willing the ship to fight off this tenacious enemy.

  Venger bucked and rolled as the ship brought everything to bear on the incoming weapons. Rogers stared at the ship’s damage screens. Venger was hurt.

  “Conn, Sensors,” Basan’s voice was calm, cutting through the bridge and computer chatter. “Two Backbreakers in that incoming salvo.”

  “Pilot, hard to starboard!” Rogers said. Backbreakers! Those were designed to kill dreadnoughts and massive cargo vessels. Arbitrator indeed. Venger pivoted to expose only a narrow aspect to the enemy weapons.

  “Launching countermeasures,” Cowan reported.

  With one main down, they couldn’t outrun the Arbitrator. Venger corkscrewed away from the Backbreakers, alternately bringing weapons to bear and trying to outrun the weapons. An anti-torpedo found its target. A second was shredded by close-in weapons—systems running out of mass ammunition and power reserves from auxiliary. Backbreakers were tough bastards, a heavy armored nose protecting a shaped charge with a near nuclear yield warhead. The rest of the body was propulsion, meant to blindly hammer into the enemy. It wasn’t sophisticated, but it was effective in a close-in fight. Just like now.

  “Rail batteries.”

  “Enough for half a volley, sir,” Weps reported.

  “Pilot, reverse trajectory! Weps, rail gun is yours!”

  “Aye, sir,” Weps said, taking control. Venger again swung rapidly, and the Backbreakers closed fast. “Firing… firing… firing…” the computer droned as the ship pumped velocity imparted rounds at the Backbreakers. The lead enemy torpedo dodged the first slugs, but the third struck, blowing the heavy torpedo apart. The astrodisplay flared and pulsed as the optics were overwhelmed with energy.

  “Tracking,” Weps reported, working on the second Backbreaker. Rogers switched screens to Weps tactical and viewed the Backbreaker. “Rail gun battery depleted—”

  “Pilot reverse—” Rogers began.

  The forward half of the ship was struck, the Backbreaker drilling through her ablative armor and then its charge blew apart the front of the ship. The bridge compartment ruptured, screens shattered, and debris streamed to the breach.

  17

  HFSS Kuro Hai

  Rigel B Outer System

  0357 U.Z.

  1254.12.13 A.F.

  “Maneuvering, conn, I need thrust now!” Reed shouted into his comm panel. Two enemy rail slugs struck the hull, causing Kuro to tumble wildly. Glancing blows from the slugs, Reed noted. There were no reports of serious hull damage. It was just a matter of time before the enemy got a killing solution. Kuro needed to move. “Se
condary thrust!” he ordered the pilot.

  “Sir, I don’t recommend secondary thrust. It would compromise our stealth profile,” Astro Jin said, raising his voice above the ship’s alarms.

  Reed stared at him.

  Jin’s expression was calm. “Sir, we cannot trade blows if she detects a drive plume. But we can dump our energy sinks into the impeller to give us enough thrust before the gravitic drive comes online.”

  “How long?” Reed asked, impressed with Jin’s solution.

  “A few seconds, sir,” Astro said, working the controls to reroute the internal sinks Kuro used to store any energy that the hull might otherwise radiate.

  The ships wouldn’t be close, but there was a good probability Kuro would be inside the enemy’s kill box. The corvette had turned broadside to bring its weapon arrays to bear on the torpedoes, closing fast. The optic display lit up like fireworks.

  Then the final Backbreaker struck, blowing the bow off the corvette.

  “Yes!” Reed exclaimed, but the control room remained silent and tense. They didn’t share in his triumph. The plume from the corvette’s drive died, and the displays sparkled with debris. She was dead in space.

  “Ready, sir,” Jin reported.

  “Pilot, full thrust,” Reed said, his voice bitter. They should share in his victory. Where was the vaunted subspacer bravery and bloodlust? The impeller engaged, and Kuro lurched forward in space, accelerating to whatever the pilot could coax out of the system, which amounted to a few inertial gravities.

  Reed waited tensely for the forward torpedo board to show green with a full salvo of ready torpedoes. Reed’s teeth rattled as the corvette bombarded Kuro with rail slugs. His damage control screen went crazy; a kaleidoscope of lights dancing to shrieking alarms. Two compartments were holed. Reed cursed. He switched to the aft torpedo bay, full of standard torpedoes. “Full spectrum attack. Give them a good bearing. Shooting full salvo,” Reed ordered. Tubes five and six, then tubes seven and eight launched standard torpedoes. The plumes flared on the display as the torpedoes accelerated at hundreds of gravities.