by J. L. Doty
It seemed to take forever to crawl half the length of the ship, but he finally opened the shaft hatch on the bridge, floated out behind the fire control console. For some reason the thought came to him that if he ever needed to, he could probably use the shaft to sneak onto the bridge unnoticed.
Floating, he pulled himself around the console in time to see a small group of marines carrying away Rame and Sierka, both unconscious. York pushed himself through the weightless atmosphere, caught an edge of the captain’s console, struggled into it and strapped himself in. Anda Gant peered through a narrow gap between instrument clusters, looked at him with relief as he yanked on a headset. “Status?”
“No sign of that hunter-killer,” Gant said, “though I’ve got two transition wakes closing on us fast. We’ve got limited power, but I assume you want to keep running silent so I haven’t done anything yet. We’re awfully close to our own minefields. Should I pull away?”
“Negative,” York said as he brought up a scan summary, looked it over quickly. Neither of the two transition wakes were the hunter-killer. Next he brought up a duty roster. Sierka and Soladin and Armbruster hadn’t bothered to assign crews to most of the critical combat stations, but they had at least assigned bridge crews, and at that moment Jondee should be at the com. “Mister Jondee. Are you conscious?”
“Well now,” Jondee’s voice said in York’s headset, “there are those who might dispute that fact, but I’ve always thought of myself as basically cognizant, and don’t believe what you hear about my moral character.”
“Shut up.” York was in no mood for repartee. “And check on the fore and aft launch rooms, see if Palevi has crews there yet.”
York glanced up from his screens and saw Andow floating over him. The senator’s hair was a mess and his tunic badly torn, but he seemed unhurt. York pointed at one of the assistant’s couches at the weapon’s console. “Sit there,” he said. “And strap yourself in. If we have any more gravity problems you’ll be a lot better off.”
Andow obeyed without question.
“And keep your hands off that console,” York growled. “Don’t touch anything.”
“Sir, the aft launch room is manned, but Palevi’s crew is having trouble getting forward.”
“Lieutenant Commander McGeahn reporting for duty, sir.”
York looked up and found the young woman he’d met at the embassy on Dumark. All he could think was that she had no combat experience. At least she was smart enough not to take command. He nodded at her. “Assist Miss Gant at the Scan Console.”
Maggie and Frank showed up before McGeahn had herself strapped in. York gave Maggie the helm. Frank had a smear of blood on one cheek, and he looked groggy, but he had no one in any better shape, so he gave him fire control.
He made a quick call down to Alsa Yan in sickbay. “I need a med tech up here fast,” he pleaded. “I’ve got wounded.”
Yan shook her head. “Sorry, York, I’ve got wounded coming out my ears. Can’t spare anyone until—”
“God damn it, Alsa!” York growled. “My wounded are sitting at critical combat stations, and we’ve got Federals closing on us.”
Yan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “What do you need?”
“Send me someone with stimulants: phets, ag hypes, kikkers; I don’t care what.”
“Transition flare, sir,” Gant shouted. “Dead astern. Range one hundred million kilometers and closing at point-eight lights.”
McGeahn spoke, panic in her voice. “He’s coming after us, sir. He can start targeting on us any moment now.”
York needed McGeahn to remain calm. “Steady as she goes. He can’t target on us if he can’t see us. Everyone keep a close eye on our systems. I don’t want anything to show on his screens. Miss Gant, any sign of that hunter-killer?”
“Nothing, sir.”
York glanced at his Engineering summary. Cappik had one more chamber lit, though he was holding it barely above shutdown. McGeahn’s nerves were ready to blow. York could feel it, and that meant everyone else could too. She needed something to do, and York needed someone to run the figures on a transition plan. “Miss McGeahn. Move over to the navigation console and compute a transition at ninety degrees to our previous course.”
“Sir,” Gant said. “That feddie in sublight is closing fast. And that second transition wake is coming in too.”
York barked out orders. “Miss Votak, stand by. Miss McGeahn, we’re going to need that nav run. Mister Jondee, check her figures. Mister Stara, instruct all weapons stations to stand by.”
York paused, forced his voice into a low, even, calm tone. “All right, everyone. It’s party time.”
CHAPTER 14: ILLUSION
“Captain,” Ducan Soe said calmly. “We’ve got one of our own destroyers climbing up our ass.”
Jewel Thaaline glanced at Tac’tac’ah, her most inexperienced officer. The young man had a bead of sweat running down his brow as he concentrated on holding the Pride an infinitesimal degree above transition. “Tac’tac’ah,” Jewel said. “You’re doing just fine. Steady as she goes.”
“I don’t like this,” Soe grumbled. “We’re about to ram that cruiser in front of us, and that destroyer behind us is about to overtake us, and we’ll all be right on top of that damn imper at the same time. Let’s down-transit now, stay back and let the big boys have him.”
Jewel shook her head. “Negative. A single transition flare, without anything to mask it! That imper will pinpoint us as sure as I’m sitting here.”
“I don’t think he’s that smart,” Soe argued. “Only a real amateur would have given us a clear target signature like that. We hurt him. We hurt him bad.”
Jewel shrugged. “Maybe.” She looked over her shoulder at Innay, asked, “Andro?”
Innay shrugged and shook his head. “That was no amateur who set that ship down on Dumark.”
Jewel agreed. “Let’s play it a little cautious.”
Tac’tac’ah interrupted. “Captain, here comes that destroyer behind us.”
Jewel glanced at her screens. The transition wake of one of their own destroyers was closing on them fast, and they in turn were closing fast on one of their own cruisers in sublight in front of them.
“Transition flare,” Soe barked. “Dead ahead. No, correct that. That was a detonation—ten megatonnes, maybe more.” He flinched. “There’s another one, right on top of the first. No sign of any transition launch. That fucking imper scattered mines.”
It all fell into place, and Jewel knew what to do. “Chief Innay. Stand by with a warhead. Something big. Be prepared to target on any signal we pick up from that imper. If you get anything, transition to sublight and fire in the same instant.”
“Here comes that destroyer,” Tac’tac’ah said. “Ten seconds . . . Nine . . . Eight . . .”
Jewel struggled to remain calm. “Steady as she goes, Tac’tac’ah.”
“Seven . . . Six . . . Five . . .”
Soe pleaded, “You know we’re driving right into a mine field!”
“Four . . . Three . . .”
Jewel kept talking. “Take it easy, Tac’tac’ah. Don’t let that destroyer’s wake knock us into sublight.”
“Two . . . One . . .”
York let McGeahn cheer. She was still too inexperienced to understand that one feddie slamming into a mine was only the beginning. And that medic had just made the rounds, popping them each in the shoulder with an injector. McGeahn, like all the rest of them, was just getting over the initial rush of whatever the medic had given them. Then she quickly realized the veterans around her weren’t joining in and she shut up.
“Captain,” Gant said, her voice a monotonous calm. “I’ve got a second and third wake at extreme range, too far to guess on their make or type. But the next one’s coming in now. I’d say it’s a destroyer. Looks like he spotted those detonations, probably guessed we’ve trailed a mine field, now he’s gonna try to run it in transition.”
York took a quick glanc
e at his console to make sure there were no surprises. “Mister Stara, tell the aft launch room to arm two ten megatonne warheads and stand by.”
York opened the command channel to Engineering. “Mister Cappik. Stand by for full combat status. We’ll need gravity and shields first.”
Gant glanced his way, frowned, didn’t understand what he was doing. Like all the rest she’d forgotten about that hunter-killer out there. “Miss Gant. I want all your scan activity recorded at highest resolution.
“Miss Votak. Stand by at the helm. Have you got your course yet?”
“Yes, sir, I do. And I checked it myself.”
“Ranging,” Gant barked. “Three hundred million kilometers and closing fast.”
York felt a familiar calm wash over him. Everything seemed clear, concise, obvious. He knew what was going to happen now.
“I’ll take command now.”
York looked over his shoulder, found Soladin floating in the weightless atmosphere just above him and to one side. York shook his head. “Shut up and strap yourself down somewhere.”
“What?” Soladin demanded. “You can’t—”
“Perra!” Andow barked angrily. The senator looked like a scared, little man. He waved to the seat next to him. “Just do as he says, Perra.”
“Two hundred million kilometers . . .”
York forgot Soladin, scanned his screens one last time. “Are you targeting, Mister Stara?”
“Not too well, sir. He’s still on the other side of the noise from those mine detonations.”
York spoke carefully. “Mister Stara and Miss Gant. We’ll fire one warhead at that destroyer on my command. When that warhead detonates, whether we hit the destroyer or not, watch closely for a transition launch that’ll seem to come from empty space just behind the detonation. Target on it, and fire the second warhead immediately without waiting for my command. Is that clear?”
They both looked at him oddly, but acknowledged the orders.
“One hundred million kilometers . . .” Gant said, then her voice suddenly shifted, lost its calm. “Fifty . . . He’s into the mine field . . . and . . . he’s through it, clear and clean.”
“I’ve got him, sir,” Stara shouted.
Gant’s voice was almost hysterical. “Forty million kilometers . . .”
York tried to speak calmly. “Let’s show them our colors. Mister Jondee—gravity and shields. Miss Votak—all ahead full.”
York settled into his couch as gravity was restored. Maggie firewalled the sublight drive and Cinesstar’s hull groaned. York glanced at his readouts; they were accelerating at a right angle to the feddie’s course, at just under ten thousand gravities, a dismal crawl compared to the feddie bearing down on them in transition. And they were now easily visible to anyone in sublight.
York watched Cinesstar’s power demand climb as Maggie fed more energy to the sublight drive. The shields drew no power as long as they took no hits.
“Thirty million kilometers . . .”
“Mister Stara,” York said. “Fire one.”
Frank flinched for an instant, and Cinesstar’s hull thrummed. “One away, sir,” he said. “Detonation in three seconds.”
York tensed. “All power priority to the shields.”
He’d barely finished speaking when Frank shouted, “Direct hit, sir . . . My god!”
“Mister Stara,” York growled. “Watch your defensive stations.”
Frank shut up, turned back to his console and stared at his screens . . .
The drive power suddenly dropped back to zero and they went weightless again as the computer diverted all power to the shields. Cinesstar’s hull screamed and the readouts on York’s screens shot off scale. A gravity wave pulsed through the ship and everyone’s hair stood on end as the internal fields reached maximum. Frank slapped a switch on his console, the hull thrummed again and he barked, “Two away, sir.”
“Miss Votak,” York snarled, having trouble sounding calm. “Get us the hell out of here. I want transition—soonest.”
“Detonation,” Frank shouted. “Though I don’t know what the hell we hit.”
Soladin shouted, “What in God’s name was that?”
York looked his way, saw Andow also anxiously awaiting an explanation. He spoke slowly, one eye on his screens, “That was a warhead from that hunter-killer. She waited for us to fire at that destroyer, used the flare from our transition launch to get an accurate fix on us. Then she down-transited and fired her own warhead at us, using the detonation of our warhead to mask her actions. It almost worked.”
York’s headset suddenly filled with noise, Cappik shouting in the background. “Captain, this is Cappik. I’ve got trouble down here.” York looked at his screens. The starboard chamber had redlined even with no drain on the shields. “Permission to shut down Starboard?”
“Permission granted. And I’ll try to get you some help.”
York put in a call to Palevi, told him to send Cappik anyone experienced in a contamination suit.
“Ballin!” The voice was Sierka’s, raised in a high-pitched scream. “I told you never to come on this bridge again.”
York glanced back over his shoulder, spotted Sierka stepping out of the lift. It would take Sierka a few precious seconds to step around the nav console, then slip between fire control and com. York glanced at his screens. There were three feddie transition wakes headed their way, but too far to matter for the moment, and the expanding fireballs from the two feddies they’d burned. Somewhere there was that hunter-killer, running silent, all but invisible. But for all she knew Cinesstar was fully operational, and a hunter-killer was no match for a heavy cruiser, so she wouldn’t give away her position by trying another shot. Maggie was pushing Cinesstar with everything she had, would make transition shortly. And Cappik had that chamber out of redline.
“Ballin, get off my bridge.”
With a minimum of movement York touched a switch on the captain’s console, opened a private channel to Gant, whispered into his pickup, “Anda. Continue to record all exterior activity at highest resolution as long as possible. Please.”
“Ballin, get out of that couch.”
York lifted his hand off the console, cutting the circuit to Gant, looked at Sierka, who stood next to him in a torn tunic, one arm in a sling, a smear of dried blood on his cheek. York nodded, pulled the headset off carefully. “Aye, aye, sir.”
Sierka pointed at the lift. “Get out of here.”
York lifted himself carefully out of the couch. It felt odd that he wasn’t angry or upset, but he realized he was maintaining a delicate balance, that if he allowed Sierka’s hysteria one instant of control, he would probably turn on the man and kill him with his bare hands.
He turned toward the lift, turned his back on Sierka without acknowledging him, slipped between fire control and com, Paris and Frank staring at him. Then he stepped around the nav console, into the lift, closed the lift doors, and once again he could breathe.
“He sucker punched us,” Soe snarled. “The son-of-a-bitch sucker punched us. Can we get in one more shot?”
“Negative,” Jewel snapped.
“He set us up,” Soe argued. “He suckered us into giving away our position, and I’ll bet we didn’t even touch him.”
Jewel looked at Innay.
Innay shook his head slowly. “It was a good shot. We hurt him.”
“And he hurt us,” Jewel said. “Get me a damage report.”
She closed her eyes, tried to think. “One moment he makes an idiot move, gives us a clean shot. Then the next he’s one step ahead of us. It’s as if he were two different men.”
She turned carefully to Soe. “Mister Soe. We will, of course, follow. Are we close enough to track him in transition?”
Soe shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. We won’t know until we’re in transition ourselves.”
Jewel nodded thoughtfully. “We’re not done with him yet. Not if I can help it.”
The lift doors opene
d on an intermediate deck to pick up a young woman. York stepped aside as the woman walked into the lift.
“Lieutenant Ballin,” the young woman said. There was something familiar about her, though he couldn’t place her. She put her hands on her hips. “Why lieutenant! I do believe you don’t remember me.”
She stepped aggressively toward him, literally backed him against the back of the lift with her tits. He knew only one woman who used her tits that way. “Lady Dubye.”
She pressed a thigh into his crotch, rubbed it carefully from side to side. “I can’t believe you’d forget.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t forget, just didn’t recognize. The makeup. It covered most of your face that evening.”
She grinned evilly. “Well then you’re forgiven, though I do remember you removed most of that makeup with your tongue.”
She didn’t let up with her thigh, and York couldn’t deny it was having an effect.
“I’m bored,” she said. “Why don’t you join me in my cabin?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m on duty.”
She could tell it was a lie and she grinned. “We’re a good match, you and I.”
He continued to shake his head. “I’ve got responsibility for damage control.”
“Oh yes!” she said, frowning, but still grinning. “We were attacked, or something like that?”
He nodded. “Something like that.”
She put the palm of her hand on his chest. “Are you sure you can’t join me?”
He was tempted. “I’m sure. Perhaps another time.”
She stepped away from him. “That’s a shame.”
York spent the next eight hours coordinating the marines from the ready room. He wanted to put on a vac suit and help out himself, but the ready room functioned as an excellent command center, and from there he had far greater control over operations.
Cappik had the highest priority down in Engineering, but his needs were specific and limited. They had to comb the rest of the ship, clearing out debris and an occasional body, checking for damage that didn’t show up on the computer. The gravity wave that pulsed through the ship when the warhead hit them had caused a great deal of minor damage. But as their cleanup operation wound to a close, York began to breathe easier, for with the exception of the starboard chamber, there were no other serious problems. Just a lot of injured, and quite a few dead.
