Carlisle slipped eagerly into the gunner's chair and with the same easy skill that she seemed to naturally possess concerning almost any kind of weapon or machine, immediately began to expertly operate the gun controls.
Talbot, now back in the turret, used the hand-held remote control for the targeting system to cue up a target.
Carlisle smoothly took aim at the small, red gas cloud using the targeting periscope. She fired off the first pulse beam and was immediately rewarded when the target cloud lit up with a bright yellow-green fluorescent glow that lingered for perhaps ten seconds. She waited for the word that the gun was ready for the next pulse and again fired at the target cloud. She scored four consecutive hits alternating between the starboard and port projectors before almost reluctantly surrendering the gunner's chair to Hawkins. Talbot cued up another target, a blue one this time. Hawkins also fired off four pulses, alternating between the two projectors and, as Carlisle had done, waiting for a prompt between shots. His accuracy was not nearly as good as Carlisle's, though, and he only scored two hits.
The switching process to swap charged sub-modules for spent ones, however, had gone without a hitch.
"Second test procedure successful, Captain," said Harris. "Sorry, Hawk, but it looks like we have a new gunner!"
"That's nay a problem," said Hawkins. "I said I liked firin' the guns, I never said I was any good at it!"
"No more firing," said Murdock. "The moon and those ships are due to come out from behind the planet any minute now and I don't think we should take any chances. They will almost certainly be able to detect pulse weapon fire at this range. There's no need for us to reveal our offensive capabilities. Meantime, we'd better start training more people to run the system. I know we don't have a lot of spare crewmembers but take two or three more, Lieutenant. Do the best you can to get them trained with the short amount of time we have. You never know when we might have to actually fight this ship!"
"Will do, Captain," replied Harris. He spoke to his companions in the turret. "You heard the Captain, we're going to have to train a crew to man these capacitors. I'd say we need about four more people per gun and maybe two more as alternates, in case somebody gets hurt."
Harris, Hawkins and Carlisle rounded up a handful of crewmen and, after a half hour or so of explanation, which included close examination of wristcomp holograms, brought them to the turret and began to drill them on their duties. The capacitor chamber got very crowded when all of the necessary personnel were assembled. The new gun crew went through the switching procedures dry, without power, for over an hour, in an attempt to get everyone up to speed. When the hour of practice expired, the crew, and the alternates, had become at least somewhat proficient in the procedures.
Applying their newly developed skills, the raw crew performed a final run through live, with power channeled to the capacitor banks. They made no attempt to perform the procedure quickly. Instead, the crew moved at a steady, almost methodical pace. Even so, they managed to charge all eight sub-modules in just over twelve minutes. With both capacitor banks fully charged, the crew was finally ordered to stand down. Everyone involved let out a loud cheer. The Captain and the rest of the command staff breathed a collective sigh of relief.
The Greyhound was theoretically ready to fight but how well she would be able to perform under actual battle conditions remained a wide open question.
Chapter 42
On board renegade destroyer Skorpios, somewhere in the Heard's World Star System, December 11, 2598.
It had been an exhausting week of almost constant, tedious, sometimes dangerous work muscling the capacitor components out of the wreck of the Succession War cruiser and then wrestling the ruined components out of the hijacked destroyer and installing the intact replacement assemblies. The crew of the Skorpios had successfully completed a test session wherein they had fired both weapons repeatedly just a few minutes earlier. Caleb Jordan reluctantly replaced the inspection cover that protected the connections for the aft pulse beam projector. He did so knowing that finishing the task could well sentence him and his wife, Hanna, to death.
The Sheik, however, seemed to be pleased when Caleb was brought before him to give his report.
"So, my Christian friend, you have completed the repairs?"
"Yes, Hakim, I have," replied Caleb, using the proper form of address for a Sheik, even though the true status of this Sheik was somewhat in doubt as far as he was concerned. "You will keep your word and release us?"
"As you wish, Mr. Jordan," said the Sheik, smiling wickedly. "Of course we will release you. I won't have it said that I am not a man of my word. Fahada?" he called out to his female Lieutenant. "See that our two guests are freed immediately."
"As you wish, Sire!"
Hanna and Caleb Jordan were loaded onto the shuttle craft, and set free some twenty minutes later. Freedom being, of course, a relative term. They were each given a spacesuit with twenty-four hours of air and deposited back on the moon near the wreck of the Veritian cruiser. Caleb and Hanna watched as the shuttle left to return to the destroyer, leaving the two of them marooned on the small worldlet.
"Well," said Caleb, as they watched the shuttle depart, "he did keep his word. Technically, we're free."
"Yes, free to die!" replied his wife. She had a thought. "We're talking to one another, at least they didn't disable our suit radios. Maybe we can call for help. Maybe someone will be close enough to help us. Better than giving up without a fight!"
"I kept my word too," said Caleb, "I got their cursed guns to work again."
"I sense that there is more to this story?"
"Yeah, there's more. I got the guns to work but I didn't say how long they were going to work."
"You mean...?"
"Yes, Hanna, I didn't completely finish repairing those weapons."
"I'm certain that God will forgive you, Caleb."
***
On board the renegade destroyer Skorpios, somewhere in the Heard's World Star System, December 11, 2598.
"I have the unknown vessel on the long distance scanners, Captain Noori."
"Show me," said the Captain, crossing the bridge to the imaging consoles along the starboard side. The sensor technician pointed to his display.
"This is it here." With the Captain observing, the image grew larger as the sensor technician zoomed in on the old ship. "It appears to be an old cargo ship, Sir." The technician made some fine adjustments on the unfamiliar equipment. "Correction, Sir, it is a very old cargo ship. I do not believe that it poses much of a threat but I would still approach with caution."
"Why would you recommend that?"
"There are some anomalies, Sir."
"Such as...?"
"Well...the engine power level readings are somewhat higher than I would expect, Sir."
"Are you certain your instruments are operating properly?"
"Yes, Sir. As nearly as I can tell."
"I see. Your concern is noted, Sirhan. I still think that we have little to fear from them, it is just a very old cargo ship after all. A ship that old may have required an engine upgrade at some point."
"As you say, Captain."
"Take us in closer, Helm, we'll hail that cargo ship and tell them to stand down and prepare to be boarded. I wouldn't mind having another ship, even a very old one. Fahada?"
The deadly female operative was across the bridge in an instant. "Yes, Captain?"
"Prepare your team for a boarding exercise. You should have approximately a half hour to get ready."
"At your command, Sir."
The crew of the Skorpios prepared to microjump their destroyer to a point close to the unknown cargo ship.
***
Onboard UTFN Auxiliary Ship Greyhound, somewhere in the Heard's World star system, December 11, 2598.
Perry Allen kept a nervous eye on the recently-installed sensor array of the Greyhound. He had been tracking the movements of the other two ships in the Heard's World system for the better
part of the morning. The two ships had remained in their original orbit, near the small moon, since they had come out from behind the planet.
"They're starting to move now, Lieutenant," said Allen. "My God, this isn't good!"
"What do you mean?" asked Murdock.
"Near as I can tell, it's an Alliance Dagger Class destroyer. It has to be over forty years old but it'll still be way more than a match for us. If we're going to run, we'd better think about doing it soon."
"Will our shields hold against his weapons?" asked Murdock. "Carlisle? See what you can find out!"
"If those are the original weapons on that ship then...," Carlisle checked her wrist computer, "...Yes, we could probably take several hits from the main batteries before we'd start having some serious problems. The shield generators on the Mark IV's were beefed up enough to handle a limited amount of small beam weapons fire before the ships were sent into the final battle. I'd sure as hell hate to risk it though."
"Captain Murdock?" said Harris.
"What is it Lieutenant?" replied Murdock.
"I suggest we get the ship ready for a microjump immediately. There's no way we can stand toe to toe with these guys. Our best, actually our only, option is to run."
"We're calculating a minimum distance microjump towards the hyperlink point now, Lieutenant, but we have to bring the jump module back online, it got kicked off when we lost power."
"Lieutenant?" said Allen from the sensor station.
"What is it, Chief?"
"I'm picking up some weak signals from the moon where those two ships are. There's someone on that moon right now. I'll see if I can boost the signal." He fiddled with the controls. "My God! It sounds like Hanna and Caleb Jordan!"
There was a brief silence on the bridge of the Greyhound. Then Allen made a breathless announcement, "The destroyer has phased into microjump! I can't tell where he'll come out but what do you want to bet he's coming towards us? Is that jump module online yet?"
"Negative, Chief," came the reply.
The bridge crew frantically continued work on executing a microjump back towards the Whitney hyperlink transfer point but they were unable to complete their preparations in time. They were able to upload the coordinates into the jump computer but the hyperlink module was still offline.
"Enemy ship has just phased out of microjump, Captain," said Allen, "He's only a couple thousand kilometers away and closing."
"Battle stations, everyone!, said Captain Murdock. "It appears we aren't leaving this system yet! Let me know the instant that jump module is available, Chief Allen! Hawkins? Get those shields up to maximum power!"
***
On board the renegade destroyer Skorpios, somewhere in the Heard's World Star System, December 11, 2598.
The terrorist destroyer rapidly closed with the unknown cargo ship until they were well within range of where the crew of the old destroyer could effectively use their weapons. From a distance of only two hundred kilometers, the sensor operator on the Skorpios watched in fascination on his magnified viewer as he examined a flat, somewhat out-of-place hump behind the bridge area of the ancient cargo ship. More than the power readings were out of the ordinary on this old cargo ship! He was about to say something when the leader gave the order to fire.
"On my signal, Abdullah, fire a shot across his bow," said the Captain.
"As you wish, Sir," said the weapons tech. The cargo ship remained on the same course.
"Fire now, Abdullah!"
A bolt of energy blazed past the bow of the Greyhound.
"Are your boarders ready for action, Fahada?"
"Yes, Captain, we but await your signal."
A message was sent from the destroyer to the Greyhound.
"Attention, unknown cargo ship, stand down and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply you will be destroyed!" Having made his warning announcement, the Ship's Captain turned to his weapons tech. "Target a system on that ship that won't do too much damage, Abdullah. We want her intact if possible."
"I obey, Captain," said Abdullah. A moment later he called out to the leader, concern in his voice. "Sir, the forward capacitor system is not recharging."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we cannot fire the forward gun!"
"Is there any damage?"
"Not that I can tell, Sir, but the capacitor bank remains depleted."
"That confounded Christian must have done something. Do you have a charge on the stern gun?"
"Yes."
"Then target his engine area. If he is disabled it will not matter that we no longer have power to the front battery. After we capture this ship, we will return to the moon and retrieve that little Christian. He will suffer for this outrage! Fire!"
The two men watched the viewscreens as another bolt of destruction blasted out from the rear battery of the old destroyer. The aim seemed to be true but...the decrepit old cargo ship remained unharmed! Both men had seen the purplish, lozenge-shaped bubble of a military grade shield momentarily light up as their second pulse bolt was dissipated without any apparent damage to the old ship.
Then they discovered that their stern battery wasn't recharging either.
***
Onboard UTFN Auxiliary Ship Greyhound, somewhere in the Heard's World star system, December 11, 2598.
On board the Greyhound, the lights on the bridge went out and all other systems on the ship went down as the surge of energy demanded by the suddenly overloaded shield generator forced the overprotective breaker to take the strained power plant off line. Again. After a couple of seconds, the emergency lighting came on.
"What the hell just happened?" shouted Harris.
"The power went down again," said Murdock. "We'd better do something, Lieutenant, we can't jump without power."
Harris fought down a surge of pure panic as he frantically went through their options.
"Can we get the power back up?"
"They're working on it but it'll take at least a half an hour, just like it did last time," said Murdock.
"Why haven't they fired again?" asked Harris, of no one in particular.
A voice of reason intervened.
"We have weapons," said Carlisle calmly, over the ship's intercom. "All eight capacitors for our beam weapons are fully charged. Request permission to fire on the enemy ship, Captain?"
On the bridge, a not nearly as calm Murdock gave the order. "Fire when ready, Ensign! We'd better do something and do it quick!"
Back in the turret, Carlisle mustered the gun crews as quickly as she could and then headed up into the projector level of the turret and strapped herself into the gunner's seat. "Hawk! I'm going to target the bridge area of that ship. Port side gun first and then the starboard gun. I'll count to ten between shots. Switch in the number one Portside capacitor module as quickly as you can. I'm ready whenever you are!"
With the ship's power down and the makeshift gun emplacement still not properly integrated into the Greyhound's power systems, the beam projectors had to be aimed and the capacitors that powered them had to be switched manually. Carlisle worked the manual cranks inside the turret to bring the guns to bear on the enemy ship.
Getting the guns to fire was another matter. The process for firing a pulse was essentially the opposite of the switching required to charge the capacitors, however, the gun crew had never practiced with live capacitors, let alone performed the procedures in the heat of battle and in zero gravity! With Hawkins calling out the motions, the barely trained crewmen went to work manually bringing the individual capacitors online to power up the gun on their side of the turret. Hawkins' crew worked the port gun and Orville Steuben's group worked the starboard gun.
"Portside! Bring capacitor number two on line!" shouted Hawkins. As soon as he felt the vibration and heard the noise of the projector firing, he set the crews to work activating the switches that would take the newly discharged capacitor off line and bring a charged one into the circuit. The individual crews scrambled frantically
between shots.
"Starboard! Bring capacitor two on line!" With the guns firing alternately at ten second intervals, each crew had about twenty seconds to switch out the spent capacitor and switch in a live one. The drills, short as they had been, had been adequate. The crews were managing to get the job done in seventeen or eighteen seconds. More speed was probably possible with more experience but each of the crews did the best they could under the circumstances.
***
On board the renegade destroyer Skorpios, somewhere in the Heard's World Star System, December 11, 2598
The first pulse bolt fired by the Greyhound punched a hole through the hull of the totally unprepared Skorpios. Fortunately for the crew of the stolen vessel, the bolt missed the bridge and penetrated into the forward cargo hold which, at the time, was both unpressurized and unmanned.
"For the love of Allah," cried out the weapons tech. "That cargo ship has a twin beam pulse projector!"
"Shields up!" shouted the Captain, "Now!"
The inexperienced crew of the Skorpios, mostly untrained and unfamiliar with the workings of the old warship, barely managed to get the shield powered up in time. WHOOOOMP! The old destroyer reeled and the lights dimmed from the impact of the Greyhound's second pulse bolt. A few seconds later they were hit by another bolt, again the ship lurched and the lights dimmed.
"Those hits have reduced our shield strength to only sixty percent, Sir, we must do something!"
Ten seconds later, the fourth hit nearly knocked the leader off from his feet.
"Shield now at forty-five percent, Captain."
With his main batteries down, a hull breach in the cargo area and repairs to the secondary armament on the Skorpios having been overlooked in the rush to restore the main batteries, the Captain of the Skorpios deduced that he had little choice. He and his ship were helpless under the present circumstances.
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