by Chris Bunch
“So why do you want to be over in one of those velv?” she went on. “That isn’t your job, is it? They’ve got nice half-trained pilots, with barely trained people in the second seat, learning how to zoom around, right?”
“Yeh.”
“You’re the noble Intelligence Chief, directly sent out by Caud Angara to make the Musth feel all comfy and secure.”
“Right,” Garvin grudged.
“So work on a nice, comfy, and secure speech. Or else come over here and help me feel comfy and secure, since, after all, I’m Mellusin Mining and a lot more important than a lot of very tall fuzzies.”
“I just did that.”
“Then get to work on that speech. Put some clothes on, first.”
She rolled lithely off the bed, went to her own desk, pulling on a robe.
“I didn’t say anything about you needing clothes,” Garvin said.
“Shut up and concentrate.”
The Godrevy was one of six ships making a medium-track transit from D-Cumbre to the mining world of C-Cumbre. Two new velv were in forward position, then a merchantman with mining supplies, then the Godrevy, a second supply ship, and a third velv at the rear.
Then an alarm blatted as the report of enemy ships in-system reached the convoy.
Garvin told the bridge he was on his way, pulled on boots and his coverall.
“What should I do?” Jasith said.
“Nothing. No. Get into your flameproofs, just to be safe. Wherever these ships are, assuming they’re Larissan, they’ve got to be only light-seconds from us. Oh yeh — if you want to see everything, you better come up to the bridge now. The skipper’s liable to seal the ship. Also, there’s better places to strap down to than that bed, if we’re going to be bouncing around.”
“Bouncing around?” Jasith waggled her eyebrows suggestively, but went to a closet, opened it and went inside. She came out with a sealed package, opened it, and put on coveralls like Garvin’s as he hurried out of the hatch.
All three watch officers were on the small bridge of the Godrevy. Two looked worried, but the captain, Lar Porcen, a bluff man who would’ve been at home on the deck of a water ship, appeared quite calm.
“Mil Jaansma,” Porcen said. “You’re the soldier, and you heard the com. Any suggestions?”
Garvin had tried half a dozen times to get Porcen to call him by his first name, without any more success than convincing Jasith’s household staff.
“Since it’s really unlikely that anything is going to happen,” Garvin said. “I think — ”
The com crackled as two blips appeared from hyperspace on a screen, figures scrolling underneath them.
“Unknown ships closing on convoy, assumed hostile. Tracking data being transferred. All ships stand by to take appropriate action.”
Jasith was on the bridge, somewhat excited.
“What’s happening?”
“I think,” Garvin said, “I’m a rotten prophet, and we’re about to get hit.”
Porcen touched a mike.
“Engine room, stand by for maneuvering. And you better suit up down there.” He clicked off. “That goes for everybody here, too.”
Light space suits hung in a nearby emergency airlock. The two officers helped each other into them, and Jasith, having more experience in space than Garvin, gave him a hand, then slid into another, just a bit large for her small frame.
Garvin strapped Jasith into an acceleration couch, then looked over Porcen’s shoulder, reading the screen data.
“Larissan,” he said positively. “Those are their new destroyers. Lan-class, we’re calling them.”
The Larissans were driving toward the convoy center. Commands chattered from the com, and the three escorts set interception orbits.
A flash came from the nose of the lead velv on-screen, a sim-indicator of a missile launch.
“That’s a long shot,” Garvin said, from his recently gained trained.
Flashes came from the two Larissan ships, and another flash in empty space.
“Countermissile … and a hit on that launch of ours,” Garvin said, not aware he was speaking aloud. “Now they’re launching against the convoy.”
“Your orders, sir?” Porcen’s normally calm voice had become a controlled croak.
Garvin blinked, then slipped easily into a familiar role.
“Since we’re not armed,” he said, “I’d wait for orders from the escort commander.”
The first velv, with the convoy commander, suddenly flashed, and ceased to exist.
“Son of a bitch,” Garvin muttered. “Captain, I think we’re going to have to think about getting out of here.”
A calm voice on the com agreed:
“All ships, all ships, this is Holburt Two. Break away and maneuver independently. We are engaging the enemy.”
That was the second velv.
Outgunned by the two Larissan destroyers, the Cumbrian ships still held to their interception track. All four ships launched missiles.
Alarms blared through the yacht.
“Collision alarm,” an officer muttered as hatches slid shut. “A missile’s targeting us.”
“Captain, go for N-space,” Garvin snapped.
“What setting, sir?”
“Anything, anywhere,” Garvin said, trying to keep his voice flat. “Blind jump.”
Another officer was at the hyperspace controls.
“Engaged, sir, time to jump four, three …”
On-screen, one of the supply ships blew up, and seconds later, another velv spun wildly, taking on an orbit no human could have set.
There was an explosion, and the ship tumbled. A second later, everything went black, Garvin’s stomach churned, the antigravity went out, and the Godrevy jumped into N-space for an instant, then flashed back to normal space.
“We’re hit!” somebody shouted. Garvin was floating somewhere between the deck and overhead in zero gravity. His faceplate snapped shut, and he realized the bridge deck, at least, had been holed.
There was no one at the secondary-drive controls. He saw Porcen sprawled across an acceleration couch, neck at an impossible angle. If he was still alive, he wouldn’t be for long, and no one had any time for him.
Garvin was in the main control couch, very grateful that he’d spent as much time on the bridge as he had, and the controls weren’t completely unfamiliar.
“Hyperdrive will not function,” a flat voice said in his ear. Garvin saw one officer at those controls, the other staring at the system screen.
They hadn’t jumped very far — the ongoing battle wasn’t that far from the center of the screen, which always reflected the Godrevy’s position. The second supply ship showed two flashes, then there was only empty space.
One of the Larissan ships took hits.
“Hit one,” the officer at the hyperdrive controls exulted.
But then another velv vanished.
“Now they’ll destroy that last escort, and come after us,” the first officer moaned.
“Shut up,” Garvin snapped. “What’s going on in the engine room?”
“Sorry, sir.” The officer recovered, touched a sensor.
“Engines,” a somewhat shaken voice came.
“What’s your status?”
“Goddamned stardrive’s out … secondary drive’s in fine shape. I think.”
“Do you still have compartment integrity?”
“That’s affirm,” the engine room said.
“Good,” the officer said. “We’re breathing vacuum up here.”
“Screw that,” Garvin said. “Set us a nice, irregular orbit, generally out of here, generally toward C-Cumbre.”
“And quickly,” Jasith added from the acceleration couch.
“Yes, Ms. Mellusin,” the man said.
Garvin checked the screen, was amazed to see only one blip, ID’ed as the last surviving velv.
“Well kiss my moneymaking ass,” he said. “The Larissans took off on us. Wonder if somebody hit
them.”
“I’ll cheer,” Jasith’s voice said in his ear, “after we actually get somewhere solid. I’m not as fond of spaceships as I used to be.”
She appeared utterly unruffled.
• • •
Darod Montagna was yawning heavily, trying to keep her eyes from blurring as she stared at the screen. It was cycling from system view to local. They were closing on K-Cumbre, maybe two, three ship-days out.
Lir’d ordered three on duty, one off, which didn’t give much time for sleep, after eating and ‘freshing. Montagna had two shifts to go, and didn’t think she was going to make it.
There was something on-screen for an instant, then it vanished.
Reflexively, she triggered an alarm, and then the object appeared again.
Hell, it’s almost in my lap.
She triggered the ID sensor, and it flashed twice, then said UNKNOWN SHIP.
She damned the freighter’s less-than-current Jane’s, decided that the unknown ship had to be Larissan. One of the raiders. But what the hell was it doing?
Again the ship ceased to exist, then came back, and she realized it was flashing in and out of hyperspace, for some unknown reason.
The bridge behind her was suddenly full of people.
The com to the patrol ship came alive.
“We have contact … ship positively identified as Larissan … Lan-class.”
Their fiche was up-to-date.
The com came back.
“Brns, full drive toward destination.” Then a pause. “I shall take position on your stern.”
Montagna supposed it wasn’t entirely logical to expect the patrol ship, about a quarter the size of the Larissan, to do something stupid like attack, even though that would have been the ship captain’s orders.
“Oughta just jump,” somebody said behind her, and Lir was there.
She read the screen.
“Sorry bastard in that spit-kit,” she said. “It’ll haul past us, leave us in the rear, and that goddamned Larissan’s got legs on both of us.”
“What about,” Montagna said, “we dump a Goddard out after it?”
“The damned thing’s way out of range — what the hell’s the matter with it, jumping back and forth like that?”
“Maybe somebody hit it with something?” Montagna offered.
“Yeh,” Lir said. “Yeh. Of course. I’m not awake yet. Hit, and trying to limp back home, jumping as far and as quick as it can.”
“If I put a Goddard out now,” Montagna persisted, “say with a Shadow beside it, let it lie doggo until the Goddard says it’s in striking distance …”
“I’m not half-asleep,” Lir said disgustedly. “I’m half-goddamned dead. Sure, Darod. Put it out there. And if that frigging destroyer jumps right on out of our area, that’s just fine, too.”
The missile was launched, drive at minimum.
As predicted, the patrol ship quickly moved past the Brns, showed no sign of reversing thrust.
“If that frigging Larissan doesn’t nail us,” Lir said, “I’ll have the whole goddamned crew of that runner hung by the balls they don’t have.”
A light flashed on Montagna’s panel.
“The Larissan’s in range,” she reported. “Standing by to drive … Target Acquired … Full drive …”
The other Forceman at his controls nodded. “Shadow under drive …”
The two missiles drove toward the Larissan.
“Now, don’t go and jump on me, baby,” Montagna whispered. “Come on, come on, come on …”
The Larissan ship vanished in a flash of light.
“Hit!” Montagna shouted. “I got the pigola!”
“Indeed you did,” Lir said. “Congrats and all that. Four more and you’re an ace.”
“But what am I gonna do with that Shadow that’s hanging out there?” the other soldier said. “It’s too far out to bring back, and those bastards cost money!”
“I’ll sign the chit,” Lir snarled. “Blow it in place! And when we get on the ground, you’re buying for being a cheap sourpuss.”
Montagna was paying no attention, but smiling contentedly at the screen where a Larissan ship had been.
That, she thought, was a lot better than killing them one at a time with a blaster.
• • •
The Godrevy wobbled toward the field, the field controller talking it down.
“Godrevy … you’re doing fine … pick that nose up … you’re a little low, can you pick it up … not that much …”
“The drive’s sloppy, like I said,” the pilot said.
“That’s all right, all right,” the controller soothed. “You’re doing fine. Skids down if you’ve got all three … I see them, looking good, looking good, ‘kay, you’re over the fence now, you’ve got a nice big bunch of nothing to set it down … nothing expensive to hit … nose up, nose up … the emergency lifters are on their way … anytime you want to put it down … anywhere …”
The Godrevy hit hard on its bow skid, crumpling it, bounced back into the air, then slammed down and skidded, turning, almost rolling, the screech of metal against concrete loud even in the distant tower.
Dust boiled around it, and the fire and ambulance lifters sped toward the careening starship.
The Godrevy spun twice more, rocked back and forth, then slowly came to rest.
Down on the field, an airlock opened, and people in space suits dropped out, staggered away from the ship, then stopped. One knelt and kissed the field’s tarmac.
“I didn’t think they’d make it,” the controller said, forgetting he had an open mike.
“Neither did we,” Garvin’s tired voice came back. “Neither did we.”
CHAPTER
20
N-Space
The Larissan convoy was big — twenty merchant ships, escorted by ten patrol ships and eight destroyers. They’d made their first jump from Kura to Larix and emerged in normal space, when the Cumbrians hit them.
High “above” the convoy, two velv came out of hyperspace, then two of the Kane attack controllers, then five more velv and half a dozen Kellys.
Five Larissans broke away from the convoy on interception orbits, expecting the usual head-on combat.
Ho Kang, aboard the first Kane, the al Maouna, issued orders through a scrambler:
“Vann Four, Vann Five, this is Vann Control One. N-space, one-point-five seconds, R-five-seven-eight-six-slash-N-three-five-three-three, jump and immediate attack, on command, Go!”
The leading two velv went back into hyperspace, jumping back out between the five destroyers and the Larissan convoy.
“Vann One … launch on destroyers … Vann Two … try for the convoy rear elements.”
Three aksai spun off each velv. Nana-patrol boats broke away from the convoy to intercept the second element, while a Larissan destroyer’s stern blew off as an aksai missile took it.
“Vann Six, Seven,” Tweg Jenks Farrel said from the other Kane. “This is Vann Control Two. Attack N-space point nine, R-five-seven-eight-zero-slash-N-three-five-three-two, frontal attack on merchantmen, Go!”
Two Kellys vanished, came out in front of the convoy, and drove in, missiles firing.
The convoy commander was shouting orders, but his com was blanketed by interference, as were commands from the escort commander.
The added midsection of each Kane, a large single compartment, was a swirl of motion, as technicians reported, checked sim screens, fed data into the ships’ computers. Kang sat in a boom-controlled seat overhead, trying to watch only the main screen showing present ship positions, and the secondary screen that showed ships’ orbits, assuming they continued at their present trajectory/drive. She made herself ignore the bustle below, her chair dipping to an individual station only when she wasn’t sure of something, then lifting away.
A Cumbrian ship would attack a Larissan, and seconds later, hit or miss, another target would be given to the Cumbrian, often on the other “side” of the convoy, a
long with precise navigational data, generally including a momentary jump in and out of hyperspace.
The Larissans fought hard, but they were confused, not knowing when or where to guard as the raiders appeared in mid-convoy, launched, killed merchant ships, and were gone.
This deepest space became a tapestry of light, as if so many stars were being born, as missiles struck or blew up automatically at the end of their runs.
In half an E-hour, the Larissan escorts were destroyed or crippled.
“All Vann elements,” Ho ordered. “This is Vann Control One. Reassemble in fighting formations on Control Ships.”
The velv and destroyers obeyed, and the eight surviving Larissan merchantmen had an instant to hope.
“All Vann elements,” Kang sent. “Targets of opportunity … attack when ready.”
Again, tiny suns blossomed as the raiders smashed at the merchantmen, then there was nothing left to shoot at.
“All Vann elements,” Ho ordered. “Assemble on me, and return to base.”
The entire Larissan convoy, and its escorts, had been obliterated.
Loss to Cumbre: two aksai and one velv destroyed, one Kelly damaged.
Cumbre/D-Cumbre
“Maev Stiofan, put your hands on the flag,” Caud Angara ordered. Maev touched the Force guidon.
“Repeat after me, using your own name. I, Caud Grig Angara, do swear by all that I hold sacred, whether God or gods or my own honor, I will obey the lawful commands given me by my superiors and swear to defend the Confederation, its life-forms and its way until death, or until I am released from this vow.
“I also swear I shall conduct myself as befits a Confederation officer, to issue no laws violating the standards of the Confederation nor common humanitarian standards, and to uphold the laws of the Confederation Parliament?”
“I so swear,” Maev Stiofan said, surprised her voice was a little hoarse.
“I now commission you, Maev Stiofan, as Aspirant in the Armed Forces of the Confederation.”
Stiofan, like Angara, Yoshitaro, Jaansma, and Hedley, wore the dark blue dress uniform of the Force. Angara handed her a leather box, which held the Force. Angara handed her a leather box, which held the Force emblems, the single silver crown of her rank, and a very lethal combat knife.
