“TGF?” Ounimbango demanded of al-Ansari who was pulling up the sensor information on his monitor.
“Definitely not,” he replied. “I don’t have identification on most of the ships, but one is in the archive.”
“The archive?” Ounimbango echoed.
“It shows as the TFS Tora,” he replied.
“Christ,” Ounimbango muttered. There were no former Terran Federation ships in the TGF. The only ones that survived the war were either mothballed when their captains surrendered or fled and joined the Resistance. “They’re all Resistance,” he said more to himself than al-Ansari.
“Approaching on attack vector,” the crewman called.
“Shields and weapons to maximum,” Ounimbango called. “Magnum launch! Scramble every fighter we have now! Now, God dammit, now!”
4
Following directions from Minerva, Matthew Jennings and Michelle Williams made their way down a series of stairs, ladders and one ventilation duct, which led them into the space traffic control center. A couple of Petrova’s bounty hunters almost opened fire on them as they burst out of a duct in the ceiling and crashed down to the floor.
“Wait!” Lafayette demanded as he had raced over to see what the commotion was. With a grin, he reached a hand down to help his captain to his feet while Beauregard offered a hand to Michelle. “Je ne pense jamais que je veux te voir encore, mon ami,” he said, clapping Jennings on the shoulder.
“You can’t get that lucky,” Jennings replied with a smile before adding, “What’s our status?”
“My ship is vell guarded and ve vere just planning an assault on it vhen ve got your call,” Petrova said.
Jennings walked over to the window and looked out over the hangar bay. There was not a bloodless or easy way to do it from what he saw. There were just too many men guarding the ship, and he was fresh out of distractions. He had just resolved himself that they were going to have to go with a general assault when a new alarm sounded and the lights in the space traffic control center flickered on. Everyone standing at the window ducked immediately.
“They know ve’re here,” Petrova hissed.
“No, that’s a scramble alarm,” Jennings countered. “Someone else is here.” He looked at Beauregard.
“Probably,” she replied. “If it is the Resistance, we need to get off this boat before they blow it.”
“We need to get out of this room before traffic controllers start showing up,” Lafayette pointed out.
“One second, one second,” Jennings said as he peeked his head up to the window once more and looked at what was a much more chaotic scene.
Everywhere people were running. Pilots were running from the ready room and into the garages for their fighters. Technicians were running to get fuel and weapons onto the fighters that were not currently at an alert-five level. Launch level directors were attempting to direct traffic, waving lighted green wands, and sending fighters out into the launch lane. He watched two fighters speed down the lane and out into space, before a plan began to form in his mind.
Jennings turned to Lafayette and asked, “Do you have any more grenades?”
“Non, but Fix does,” he answered.
Without any questions, Fix passed over the grenade launcher. Jennings accepted it and said, “Stay here until you see the signal. Then run like hell.”
“What’s the signal?” Michelle asked.
Jennings turned to her, smiled and said, “You’ll know.”
Terran fighters were sleek looking space craft with a snubbed nose and six short wings. Four plasma cannons were mounted around the cockpit and each wing had hard points with missiles, torpedoes, or bombs. They also had powerful shield generators, but a little known fact about them was that the fighters could not raise their shields until they had exited their carrier. The low intensity shield that covered the open space doors would allow a ship to pass through while keeping atmosphere in the Intrepid sure enough, but another shielded object could not pass through.
That was why as a third fighter engaged its repulsors and prepared to accelerate down the launch lane, it did so without its shields up. Jennings calmly strode out of the space traffic control center and leveled the grenade launcher at the fighter’s fuel core, or rather where it would be in three seconds. He pulled the trigger, sending twin columns of grenades streaking into the fighter just as it began to accelerate down the launch ramp.
The fighter became engulfed in a fireball and crashed to the deck, skidding straight toward the Grey Vistula and the security detail that was surrounding it. The guards raced out of the way, tripping over their own feet in their rush to do so. Flaming fuel spurted everywhere from the downed craft as emergency crews rushed forward to put out the fire and to save the pilot from the cockpit.
Just as quickly, Jennings’ crew and Petrova’s bounty hunters ran out into the hangar, covering the short stretch of ground between themselves and the Grey Vistula rapidly. The TGF security personnel were scattered and still trying to figure out what had just happened as the ramp on the Grey Vistula opened and Lafayette led Fix and Petrova up into the cargo hold. Beauregard and the rest of the bounty hunters began laying down cover fire as Jennings raced across the tarmac to join them.
He heard a voice yell, “Okay, move, move, move!” He looked back and saw Michelle urging all the other prisoners forward, who also raced across the deck and up into the ship.
As the TGF forces continued to be distracted as well as pinned down by fire from Petrova’s team, Jennings joined Michelle in extorting the escapees to hurry. At last, the one hundred and ninth one raced through the door, and both of them followed on his heels.
Once up the cargo ramp and in the bay with the Melody Tryst and a hundred escapees, Jennings yelled down to Beauregard, “Selena! Move it! All of you! Fall back now!”
Another two fighters launched as the rest of their motley crew made their way back into the Grey Vistula. As soon as the last of them -as it happened, Beauregard and Vosler- were on the ramp, Jennings ordered Minerva to close the bay and to raise the ship’s shields. With no more cover fire, a few of the TGF forces tried to fire on the Grey Vistula, but found their shots rebounding off the shields or simply absorbed.
“Vosler, please see to these people,” Jennings said quickly and after receiving a brief nod from Petrova’s lieutenant, he said to Beauregard and Williams, “Selena, Michelle, we need to get to the bridge.”
Thirty seconds later, Jennings was sprinting onto the bridge, past the captain’s chair where Petrova sat, and usurping the pilot’s seat from one of her men. He punched several commands into the computer and then grabbed the ship’s stick. The Grey Vistula moved like a dead elephant compared to the Melody Tryst, but that did not matter to Jennings as he steered the ship using thrusters, positioning it for a run into the launch lane.
“Three more fighters just launched,” Lafayette said from where he sat at sensor control. “You’ve got a small window.”
Jennings punched the ship’s sublight engines and the Grey Vistula roared forward. With a flick of a button, Jennings dropped the ship’s shields just as they passed through the hangar and out into space and then immediately re-raised them barely in time. The Intrepid’s weapons began pounding away at the Grey Vistula almost immediately.
“Hold on,” Jennings said as he spun the ship hard around and then dove straight down. “Get Magellan going,” he said to Petrova’s man who had taken the navigation control.
“Fighters. Coming in hard,” Fix said from the tactical station.
“Singh,” Petrova barked. “Open fire.”
The batteries on the Grey Vistula turned aftward and began spraying fire at the Intrepid’s pursuing fighters. Jennings continued to loop and corkscrew his way out of the line of fire while still putting distance in between their ships. The man named Singh made a triumphant shout as one of the fighters chasing them went up in a blaze.
“We got a problem,” Fix said. “Ten other ships, and we’re headi
ng right for them.”
“FTL?” Petrova demanded.
“Dancing too much,” her man responded.
“If they would stop shooting at us, I wouldn’t have to change course so frequently,” Jennings spat.
Beauregard had been standing toward the back of the bridge with Michelle, trying to stay out of the way, but she realized that there might be something that she could do. Stepping forward suddenly, she said, “Open a channel to the lead ship.” This drew a few incredulous stares from Petrova and her crew. “That is a Resistance fleet, and I have an in with them,” she said. “Let me talk to them, and I might even be able to get us an escort.”
“I’d suggest you let her do it,” Jennings said. “The Resistance fleet isn’t going to just let us waltz out of here.”
“Three ships altering course,” Fix said. “Headed for us rather than the Intrepid.”
“Got another one,” Singh announced as another TGF fighter vanished from the scope. “The other two are bugging out.”
“Hail the lead ship,” Petrova said, ignoring Singh’s comments.
Beauregard walked over to the communications station and said, “I’ll type in the prefix.”
A moment later, a stern looking Asian man was on the main viewscreen staring at them. “Noichi,” he said laconically.
“My name is Selena Beauregard,” she responded. “I believe you have orders to facilitate my rescue in exchange for me giving you this location. This ship is escorting me, and I need you to provide us a path so that we can properly plot a course and make an FTL jump.”
Noichi narrowed his eyes. “I do have very specific orders, Ms. Beauregard,” he said. “And while your name did come up, it did so after the word kill.”
“What?” Beauregard demanded, shock written on her face.
“Request from Major Paulsen,” he responded. “You are a liability. My orders state that no ships and no people are to leave the Intrepid alive. Make peace with the universe.” He signed off.
Jennings swore and changed course once more, but the ships were already on them. They were not yet in firing range though, and Jennings set them on an oblique course away from the Intrepid and the three Resistance ships that were pursuing them. The ships were similar in size and firepower to the Grey Vistula, as the TFS Tora was the only real warship in the Resistance’s fleet, but that mattered little to Jennings. One on one, he thought he might be able to take them out, but they would pound the Grey Vistula to slag with their firepower combined. Since he had straightened out the ship’s course though, he knew he only needed a few seconds until the Magellan computer gave them an FTL course.
A curse from the navigation terminal took him aback. “What is it?” Jennings demanded.
“They’re using gravity generators,” Petrova’s navigator spat. “We can’t make a jump to FTL unless we can get clear of them.”
“They’re faster and gaining,” Fix reported.
“Open to suggestions right about now,” Jennings announced.
“I have one, Captain Jennings,” Petrova said.
“Why do I have the feeling that I’m not going to like this suggestion?” he responded.
“It gives you the opportunity to do vhat you do best,” she said. “Throw yourself into the face of danger foolishly and for others.”
Jennings spun in the pilot seat to face her. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“I’m talking about you taking your little ship and providing a diversion vhile my ship gets outside of the gravity vell,” she said.
“Sacre Bleu,” Lafayette demanded angrily. “You’re expecting us to die for you? After everything that’s happened?”
“Not just for me,” she replied. “For all the people you rescued.”
Jennings eyed widened slightly. “You would guarantee their safety?” he asked.
She nodded.
Lafayette protested, “Capitaine, you’re not seriously considering dis?”
“She’s right,” he said, turning to his first mate. “We have no chance of escaping in just this ship, but one of us could buy time for the other. And since our ship can’t hold all of the escapees, then it will be our ship that needs to be the distraction.”
“Put Petrova in the Tryst,” Fix said calmly.
Jennings laughed derisively. “Do you think she would sacrifice herself for us?” he demanded. “Hell, she would probably open fire on us.”
Petrova smiled thinly.
“You’ll see to the escapees?” he asked. “I don’t mean finding places to sell them. I mean re-uniting them with their families, giving them new identities if necessary, helping them disappear.”
“Of course,” Petrova said. “I agree to your terms.”
Jennings stood up from the pilot’s station, and one of Petrova’s men jumped back into the seat. “Take my crew wherever they want to go as well,” he said.
“Mon capitaine!” Lafayette protested.
“This is a suicide mission, Marquis,” Jennings said. “I can’t order you to come with me.”
“And you can’t order me not to,” Lafayette argued. “I’ve fought beside you for every battle and I’m not about to miss this one.”
“I’m in too,” Fix said. “Stinks like borscht around here.”
Petrova glowered at him.
Jennings shook his head and said, “Alright, if I can’t talk you out of it…”
He strode across the bridge, nodding at Petrova as he did so and receiving a nod in return. Lafayette and Fix both fell into step behind him as he strode into the lift. To his surprise, both Michelle and Beauregard joined him.
“No way,” Jennings said to Michelle.
Michelle angrily punched the button for the hangar level, whirled about on Jennings and said, “There is no way that after all we’ve been through that I’m going to leave you now.”
Her tone had such finality that Jennings did not even bother challenging it. Instead, he turned to Beauregard and said, “And what? You can’t stand to be parted from my company either?”
Beauregard laughed. “You’re a better pilot,” she said. “And it’s just a hunch, but I think I’ve got a better chance of getting out of here on your ship than on Petrova’s.” After a moment, she added, “And it does smell like borscht.”
Fix laughed explosively, and they all turned to stare at him for a moment. The smile was instantly gone from his face, and he shrugged and said, “I like her.”
They bumped into Vosler when the lift door opened in the hangar. He held a comm unit in his hand and held it up before saying, “Petrova, told me what you’re going to do.”
“That’s the deal we made,” Jennings responded.
“Good luck,” Vosler said. They had already started walking past him when he added, “I know you’re worried that Petrova won’t keep her end of the deal once she has escaped.” He stepped into the elevator and turned to face them. “I won’t let that happen.”
Jennings looked over his shoulder and said, “I’m glad I didn’t shoot you in the head.”
“As am I, captain,” Vosler responded before the lift doors closed.
The hangar was now empty as Vosler had evidently found quarters for the human escapees. The Melody Tryst sat alone on the deck, and Jennings led his crew over to it at a jog, heading up the cargo ramp and into the bay where Squawk was waiting for them.
“Please tell me my ship is repaired,” he said to the diminutive engineer.
Squawk saluted tiredly and said, “All systems go.”
“That will be a pleasant surprise,” Jennings muttered as he raced up the gangplank that led from the cargo bay to the bridge.
He jumped into the pilot seat while Lafayette took control of navigation, Fix took weapons, and Squawk took damage control. Michelle felt a little out of place amidst the chaos of prepping the Melody Tryst for launch, but she watched as Beauregard pushed a button and a small bench slid out from the wall. She sat down on it and then turned to face the communications stati
on. There was a similar button on the other side of the cockpit and Michelle hit it and grabbed the seat in front of a dedicated sensor console.
“Cargo bay sealed, repulsors engaged,” Jennings said more to himself than anyone else. “Get Petrova on the line.”
“Done,” Beauregard reported as Petrova’s face appeared on the viewscreen.
“We’re ready for separation,” Jennings said.
“Opening the hangar doors,” Petrova responded. A thin smile crossed her lips. “I don’t know if I should vish you luck, because you never seem to need it. I don’t know if I should say farewell because I don’t know if I vill see you again or if I even vant to. Part of me vants you to die in this endeavor, part of me vould miss the challenge of going up against you, and part of me vants to hire you.”
“Break your word with those people we rescued and you’ll come to wish for the first,” Jennings warned.
Petrova laughed. “It would be foolish of me to think that you vould come out of this in any position to carry through on that threat,” she began. “But if the past few days have taught me anything, it’s that I shouldn’t bet against you.”
“Finally catching on,” Jennings muttered.
The communication line went dead, and Petrova vanished from the screen, replaced with the view of the Grey Vistula’s hangar and the gaping maw of space just beyond the hangar doors. Jennings punched the throttle forward, and the Melody Tryst shot into space, racing away from the Grey Vistula.
“Shields up, charge all weapons to full,” Jennings ordered. “Let’s make some noise.”
Jennings sent the Melody Tryst rocketing toward the three Resistance ships that were pursuing the Grey Vistula. He watched as this unanticipated tactic from their quarry sent the Resistance ships scrambling off of their intercept course for Petrova’s ship. Bearing onto the port-most of the three ships, Jennings launched a full salvo of torpedoes at the vessel and followed it with plasma cannon fire. His aim was perfect, and the torpedoes weakened and then punched through the shields of the ship before hitting the engine. The Resistance ship went up in a brilliant explosion of red and orange.
111 Souls (Infinite Universe) Page 38
