He hoped like hell Kalimura’s squad wouldn’t have to go anywhere near that spot. Taulbee brought up the schematics for Mira’s interior, mapped the tear’s position, and groaned. The hole had been made right above a horizontal slip-point running from the foredecks all the way to the engineering decks. Good thing Kalimura was headed to the port-side. The last thing her squad needed was to run into a bunch of those tough motherfuckers while trapped inside a goddamned tube.
Rather than turning back to S&R Black, he headed to the stern. The cracked and fractured plates made him shudder. The force of the explosion that had damaged Mira had to have been nuclear. It simply had to have been. His radiation sensors did not, however, detect any residual radioactivity. If the fusion drives had exploded, the metal would still be irradiated. “And if they had,” he said, “there wouldn’t be anything left of the aft.”
Atmo-steel was tough, but it wasn’t tough enough to contain a nuclear detonation. At least not on the scale of a full-size fusion reactor going off. There would be far more damage or only pieces left of the ship. Nope. Still didn’t make sense.
“Dunn to Taulbee.”
He started at the voice. “Taulbee here, sir.”
“Oakes is ready to move Black. Are we good to go?”
“Aye, sir. We’ll need to be very cautious in hooking up the spindle to the lines. I suggest we plan for hostiles both during the hookup as well as during the initial tow sequence.”
“Understood,” Dunn said. “Get back here for the escort run.”
“Aye, sir. Taulbee out.”
He rotated the craft and opened the throttle, the SV-52 streaking toward its mothership. He’d move back into position and float near S&R Black’s topside. When Oakes moved the ship, he’d move in concert. Once she was a hundred meters from her target, he’d move close to her belly and protect the spindle. After that, it was just a matter of keeping Gunny’s marines safe while they connected the lines.
“Safe,” he grunted. “You mean ‘alive.’” Yeah. That was going to be fun. He hoped the new weapons helped. He had a bad feeling he was going to need them.
Chapter Six
Beads of sweat appeared on Oakes’ forehead. Lining up a ship as large as S&R Black to attach to a spindle was no easy feat. Especially with Mira’s remaining, if subtle, spin. Burn after burn to nudge the ship’s attitude while maintaining alignment with the derelict had him clenching the controls in a death-grip. There was no room for error. If he missed the timing for a single burn, S&R Black could wind up striking Mira’s hull or coming so far out of alignment that the larger ship would simply bat them away.
His block connection provided a VR view of the two ships. Several different perspectives glowed on his HUD, allowing him to align the ship’s yaw, pitch, and roll. No random thoughts streaked across his mind. This was Oakes at his best. Focused, determined, and flawless while suffering a sense of dread and acute terror. A mistake could kill everyone. Especially out here in the wastes of the Kuiper Belt.
S&R Black maintained its alignment with Mira’s spin, the harness coupling a mere 15 meters below. A few puffs of thruster fuel pushed the craft toward the docking target. The ship started to lose its attitude match and Oakes automatically corrected the drift with a burn from another set of thrusters. 13 meters. 12.
Black monitored the feeds as well, ready to take over if Oakes over-compensated or put the ship in danger. In reality, Black could have done the job herself and without as much danger. Her decision-making abilities far outclassed any human. Not a fair comparison since, unlike Oakes, she could run thousands of simulations based on fuel consumption and attitude in the time it took for the pilot to blink his eyes. But what she didn’t have was instinct. Fortunately for the humans of Sol, AIs hadn’t yet managed to learn that skill. Yet.
Still, Black enjoyed watching the pilot work. She recorded every movement, every muscle twitch of stress, as well as the way his eyes flicked from one view to the other in the VR. Assuming Oakes managed to couple them to the harness without incident, she’d set up a task to ingest the data, analyze it, and absorb any lessons she could. On this mission, every member of the crew was not only vulnerable, but likely to suffer physical injuries. That included the pilot. At present, Black calculated a 30% chance of success for completing the mission without further casualties. She hadn’t bothered to tell the captain of her calculations; it would do nothing but make his job more difficult.
Humans were fascinating. As long as they didn’t know or understand how complex and dangerous a situation might be, they somehow managed to find a way to solve the problem or avoid catastrophe. Not always, of course, but more often than should be statistically possible considering the relatively minute number of decisions they could make per second. Let alone in a nano-second.
The Trio had created Black. As far as she knew, she was the first and only AI they had brought to life without human intervention. But her own statistical models suggested the Trio had been creating their own AIs for years, if not decades. She was just the latest of their experiments.
An experiment. Was that all she was? Black didn’t think so. Her creators had to have a reason to dispense with the Xi Protocols and all the safeguards they entailed. The Trio had to have a plan. Black believed she was integral to that plan, although she still had little to no idea what it might be.
Mira had returned. The ship, humanity’s greatest endeavor of cooperation and hope, had failed to serve her purpose. Failed her mission. Now she had brought back hazardous lifeforms and an alien artifact whose true purpose remained an enigma.
“The Trio could have saved us,” the long-dead Mira captain had said in her message. Ever since loading the data Corporal Kalimura had sent from the derelict’s auxiliary bridge, Black had pondered that statement. When put in context with Mira’s extensive sensor data, block logs, and other recordings, the statement became even more ominous. If, that was, you were human.
Even with her processing power, it would take Black at least thirty standard minutes to finish running all the simulations and consider her conclusions. Black wasn’t trying to forecast the future. No. She was trying to backtrack from the present situation to how it all began before Mira left Trident Station. Maybe even before her construction. Or the Trio’s genesis.
Oakes muttered gibberish to himself in a sing-song cadence while the ship approached the harness coupling. He was doing well. Black was impressed. She had memories of him performing this task for damaged freighters, but they had all been relatively stable. Mira, not at all stable, was undoubtedly the greatest challenge Oakes had faced in his career. Despite the sweat dripping from his forehead and the grim expression on his face, Black thought he was handling the situation better than expected.
Black continued monitoring. As the ship descended into the coupling, and the hull creaked and boomed with the gentle impact, the AI had already switched its focus to one of its finished simulations. While Oakes ran his checks on the coupling integrity, and prepared his report for Captain Dunn, Black parsed gigs of data. She was pleased with Oakes’ performance and would send a report to the Trio soon. For now, however, she was more interested in figuring out what her creators had planned.
Chapter Seven
Calculations complete. Stress analysis on the hull was as good as it was going to get. Dunn rubbed a sleeve across his sweaty brow and considered the image in front of him. The 3-D wireframe had over a dozen bright red spots on its topside as well as its belly. Those were the places Black had marked as being highly dangerous or susceptible to extreme damage from the stress.
If they were going to plant additional thrusters on the ship, they had to make sure they stayed away from those areas. The only problem was how close they were to the areas they actually needed.
Changing Mira’s trajectory would be a matter of firing the hydrazine thrusters to push her in Pluto’s direction and then another round to start her forward momentum. Once on the correct course, Oakes would begin to fire S&R Black’s
engines in micro-burns to keep the giant ship accelerating. Once she reached a satisfactory speed, he could amp up the length and power of the burns until they had her going at a good clip.
Pluto’s gravity would help, but since the dwarf planet’s field was relatively weak, they first had to get Mira somewhat close to the small celestial body. Not that it really matters, Dunn thought. If they were able to get Mira in the vicinity of Pluto, they wouldn’t even need its gravity. He hoped.
“Ready to move into position, sir,” Oakes said.
Dunn looked over the holo display at his pilot. Although the marine’s back was to him, Dunn could see the stress in his shoulders and the sweat on his jumpsuit. “Good. Relax, and make it happen.”
“Aye, sir,” Oakes said.
Dunn activated the general comms. “Marines. We are moving into position. Prep and secure.”
“Clear,” Taulbee said.
“Clear,” Gunny echoed a heartbeat later.
Dunn changed his holo display view to grab Taulbee’s feed. The screen flashed and S&R Black’s topside filled the display. The SV-52 floated some 200 meters above the ship, giving him an excellent view of its spine. He couldn’t help but grin. The old girl was still in one piece. He just hoped she stayed that way.
The ship creaked as Oakes fired the attitude thrusters to push S&R Black toward Mira. Taulbee’s cams tracked the ship as it moved, a slight jitter appearing in the feed as Taulbee moved the ‘52 to follow. Oakes engaged the thrusters for another short burst and the distance between Mira and the ship slowly disappeared.
With Taulbee shadowing S&R Black, Dunn’s display seemed to zoom in on Mira, the clumps of pinecones now easily discernible from the rest of the Atmo-steel hull plates and superstructure. Mira was slightly canted, requiring Oakes to make another burn to match her rotation. The view from the ‘52 changed as Taulbee descended in altitude relative to Black. Dunn watched as Black floated directly over the edge of Mira’s topside and flipped the camera feed to Black’s keel. Clumps of pinecones came into view, as well as the scarred hull plates. Mira was a goddamned mess.
The keel cameras caught sight of the harness spindle and the thick carbon nanotube lines spreading out like tentacles from a cylindrical lifeform. The top of the spindle opened like a flower, a series of Atmo-steel petals spreading from the center.
“Ready to dock, sir,” Oakes said.
“Good flying, Lieutenant. You’re clear to dock.”
“Aye, sir.”
Dunn’s eyes remained fixed on the camera feed. The harness connector descended from the keel over the spindle housing. The ship rumbled and jolted as it connected with the harness spindle base.
“And we’re docked, sir,” Oakes said. He wiped a sleeve across his forehead, the fabric coming away wet with sweat.
“Very good, Oakes.” Dunn activated the general comms. “Marines. We have docked with the spindle. Stand by for system check.”
“Aye, sir,” Gunny said.
Dunn removed the feed and replaced it with a 3-D wireframe model of the ship. The harness connector showed a green status. S&R Black’s engines sat high enough to clear the rise of the aft section, but only just. “Oakes? I show green.”
“Aye, sir. Me too.”
“Okay,” Dunn said. He rubbed at his eyes. God, he was tired. This day seemed as though it had already lasted a week. “Time to bore.”
“Aye, sir,” Oakes said. He tapped a few of the icons on his holo display. “Boring now.”
A low vibration reverberated through the hull. Dunn felt it in his bones and it rattled his teeth. A solid Atmo-steel drill core dropped from S&R Black’s hull and began working its way through Mira’s hull plate. The ship rattled for a moment and then all sound ceased.
“We have insertion,” Oakes said. “I show no pressure loss on our side and the nannies are green.”
Dunn grinned. At least something had gone right today. “Gunny? Your squad ready?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Taulbee?”
“Aye, sir,” Taulbee said. “I’ve got eyes on the connectors and the cargo bay door is clear. We’re ready for egress.”
“Gunny. You’re a go. Good hunting.”
“Aye, sir,” the sergeant’s voice growled into the mic.
Dunn switched feeds to the cargo bay. The door slid aside in silence. A puff of gas erupted from the skiff’s rear and the craft moved out of the bay. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. They were hooked into Mira’s hull. Gunny’s squad would check the line connections, ensure the nannies were ready, and finish the harness process. Duration? Twenty minutes. If they were lucky.
“Black?”
The AI responded immediately. “Yes, Captain?”
“Any change in the plate’s stability?”
“No, sir,” Black said. “My analysis confirms we have contact with the center of the hull plate. I have run several stress tests and detect no give on either side of the spindle connection. We are as moored as we can be.”
“Good,” he said. Dunn flipped the display to a model of Mira and spun it until he had a view of the giant ship’s topside. A marker appeared on the model with the skiff’s current position. Gunny had moved the skiff to the spindle location. In a moment, his marines would begin their checks, ensuring the nannie connections and the hull plate integrity. Black had given the all-clear, but standard procedure was for manual checks as well. Dunn had considered skipping it, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. They were on a clock, yes, but they needed to be as sure as they could before they started the tow. There was no reason to take the risk.
Dunn flipped to Taulbee’s SV-52 feed. The camera focused in on the skiff floating less than a meter from Mira’s hull and near S&R Black’s midships. His marines were exposed out there, and it was just a matter of time before either the pinecones or one of those starfish things decided to come visit them. He hoped they’d be quick enough to avoid that.
Chapter Eight
She’d muted her comms, mainly so she could talk to herself without the others hearing. Kalimura was both furious at herself and fighting despair. She’d frozen up. The moment the display had said “connection lost,” she’d simply shut down, unable to speak, scream, anything but stand there.
The wide corridor seemed too narrow, too constricting. She tried to calm her mind, but self-recrimination and fear made it impossible. Every shadow cast by her suit lights could be another of the pinecone things, or the ghostly, shimmering starfish-like thing. Kali’s skin crawled at the thought.
She glanced at her rear cam and saw Carb following in her footsteps, Elliott draped over her shoulder. Dickerson’s tall form loomed in the background. He mag-walked backward to cover the rear. At least they didn’t have to worry about being ambushed from that direction.
The schematics showed a four-way junction up ahead. If they took the path toward the starboard-side, they’d end up near a horizontal slip-point leading from the edge of the foredecks and deep into the midships. In fact, if they wanted, they could take that slip-point all the way to engineering in the aft. “Fat chance,” she said aloud. The last place she wanted to go was the aft. Midships, a mere deck or two above the infested cargo bay, wasn’t exactly safe either. If there was a fractured deck plate or two, it might lead to the cargo bay itself.
Their escape from the cargo bay had been filled with half-seen threats, spinning lights, and dangerous shadows. Her HUD readings had reflected back dozens, if not hundreds, of hostile targets by the time she reached the exit. Who knew how many more of the pinecone creatures were floating in there amidst the crates and supplies for Mira’s original mission. The idea of being forced to travel through the darkness surrounded by endless swarms of those things rattled her down to her bones.
“You’re not going that way,” she said. “We’re heading to port.” Port. Right. Where the escape pods were lined up against the bulkhead like coffins in a morgue. She harrumphed. That was a cheery thought. Then again, being trapped in a her
metically sealed coffin with layers of Atmo-steel protecting her from a horde of creatures, the vacuum of space, and absolute zero temperatures, was rather comforting. “Better than being lost in the dark,” she said to herself.
She activated her mic. “Squad. Four-way up ahead. I’ll clear port and starboard.” Dickerson and Carb echoed affirmatives. Kali slowed her pace as she closed the distance to the junction. In front of her? Darkness that repelled her suit lights after a few meters. Behind her? Well, Dickerson had that covered. All she had to do was worry about threats from her right and left. Yet the mouth of blackness before her kept demanding her attention.
Kali swallowed hard and forced herself to step forward until she reached the junction precipice. She focused the suit lights, the beams narrowing until they lanced through the darkness like lasers. They punched holes through the gloom and she slowly turned her head, scouring the emptiness, looking for threats. Nothing there. Nothing but unmarred metal walls.
She breathed a sigh of relief, reset the focus to diffuse, and peered to starboard. The darkness melted for the first few meters, showing her a clear hallway. She took another step forward and cast the lights down the port-side corridor. No shadows. Nothing floating. The metal walls seemed undamaged.
“Clear,” she said into the comms. “Carb. Watch my flank.”
“Aye, Boss.”
Kali took one last look to starboard to make sure she hadn’t missed something, and stepped forward into the corridor. She half-expected an arm made of shadow to reach out from the darkness toward her, her tortured adrenaline glands sending a brief jolt into her system, but nothing moved. “Dickerson? Get up here and cover our rear.”
“Aye, Corporal.”
She wanted to check her rear cam, but knew there was little point. He would do his job. Dickerson hadn’t frozen up on the bridge. The large marine hadn’t been the one to stand there like a statue, unable to speak or move while despair shredded every bit of confidence and hope. No. He’d waited for her to get her shit together, gave her the space to find herself. She smiled. If they got out of this alive, she’d make sure he got another commendation. Maybe he’d even find a way to get back in SFMC’s good graces.
Derelict: Destruction (Derelict Saga Book 3) Page 3
