by Mark Wandrey
“Holy shit!” someone hissed. In a second, they were inside the hangar deck. Paka rode the stick expertly, arresting their sideways momentum before they could crash into the opposite wall, then lowered the landing legs and pushed them down onto the deck. There was a slight jolt as magnets clamped the legs down; outside the door was already sliding closed. The hangar crew launched themselves from protective alcoves with restraining cables to lash the stolen shuttle to the deck.
“That rat can fly!” Sergeant Stan Jones whistled.
Rick rather doubted the XO would appreciate being called a rodent.
“Damned fine flying,” the lieutenant said.
“Thanks,” Paka replied. “Good shuttle. I think we’ll keep it.”
* * *
“Shuttle has been recovered and locked down,” came the report from the hangar deck. “We’re secure for hyperspace.”
“Target deviation on the enemy cruiser has dropped to less than one percent,” Edwards said. In the Tri-V display of their forward view, the enemy ship was visible for the first time. Shorter and wider than Pegasus, it was still evident that, like all medium-sized capital ships, they shared a similar lineage.
Particle beams lashed out at Pegasus, one splashing against a shield and nearly overloading it, the second one penetrating and burning a chunk out of her hull.
“Another penetration on Deck 28,” Guylan warned, “I have casualties in the damage control party.” He listened to the report. “The fire is mostly under control.” Then a laser from one of the Bakulu escorts flashed through the same hole in the shield, and into Pegasus’ hull. A split second later the ship shuddered and metal screamed. “Deck 28!” Guylan yelled, red flashing all over his status board. “We’ve had an ammo cook off!”
“How bad?” Alexis asked, looking at the main tactical board. There were only seconds before they passed dangerously close to the Bakulu cruiser.
“Section Three is gone, hull blowout. It didn’t migrate to the other sections.” On a Tri-V came a picture from a camera mounted on the hull showing a huge section of deck plating blown outward. Debris, stuttering fire, and gases were pouring out of the hole. “Structural integrity is intact,” the elSha said with an audible sigh. The blow out panels on the hull along all the missile magazines were designed to force the explosion outward, instead of inwards. Had the blast reached an adjacent magazine, the resulting shockwave could have cut the vessel in half.
“Long, full power to all reactors!” Alexis barked.
At the rear of the warship, the Jeha engineer ground his pincers together, then he slid the controls for the reactors to maximum, and power surged through the distribution network of the great warship. Instantly, a magnetic buffer on Reactor Two failed, and the engineer cringed as two more went from green to yellow.
“Hold together, you entropy-cursed junk,” he demanded of the machine. “We only need a minute or two!”
The next moments passed in a flash. The four surviving Bakulu ships unleashed everything they had on the Human warship, which suddenly turned slightly, and the protective doors opened over the glowing maw of its spinal mount. Captain Geshakooka had never seen the tiny shuttle, so he didn’t know why Pegasus didn’t fire its main gun or use its hyperspace shunts to escape. He had thought they were too damaged, but now, less than 100 miles away and passing each other at an incredible speed, Pegasus’ spinal mount spun and lined up perfectly. He knew there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
Missiles, lasers, and other beam weapons lashed back and forth across space in a furious exchange of fire, and Pegasus’ spinal mount discharged at nearly peak output. A full 40-terawatt particle accelerator beam lanced across space, directly in the path of the Yushispa. The Bakulu ship flew through the beam, and it cut the ship completely in two down its length. Missile magazines and fusion reactors exploded, turning the ship into a roiling fireball which was quickly consumed by the void.
Its tubes loaded for offensive operations, Pegasus fired 10 ship-killer missiles. Four had been aimed at Yushispa, and they spiraled away harmlessly, their target vaporized before they could reach it. The other six were tasked, two each, with hitting the three escort frigates. As the battlecruiser was spinning, Pegasus brought all her laser batteries to bear, and they pounded the escorts with withering, inhumanly-accurate fire, dumping thousands of megawatts of laser energy into their shields.
The frigates were many times nimbler than their now dead mothership, and they shuddered under a dozen gravities of desperate maneuvering power as they tried to avoid the Hussar’s missiles, their anti-missile lasers pulsing furiously. The Winged Hussars’ ship-killers performed as designed, though, and four of the six found their marks, wiping the last of the Bakulu ships from the system. However, Geshakooka’s final blows were not without their own results.
“Multiple hits!” Guylan yelled as the ship rocked, bucked, and screamed. “Penetrations on Decks 9, 17, 29, 25, 31, and 32!”
“Hit on main engineering!” Long exclaimed over the intercom. “We’re bleeding reaction mass!”
“Status on the reactors?” Alexis asked as Chug worked to stabilize the ship. Her eyes widened as the lights flickered.
“Main power bus damaged,” Guylan said.
“Reactors!” Alexis barked. “Status?”
“Reactor One took a direct hit,” Long said; “it’s bad. I vented the drive plasma to space. We lost two more buffers on Reactor Two, as well. Three is fine. Earlier repairs are holding.” Alexis wiped sweat from her brow and nodded.
“Set course for rendezvous with the task force at the stargate. Let’s get out of here.”
“Ships entering our threat box,” Glick said. The SitCon was displaying multiple red triangles heading toward them. Edwards evaluated and spoke.
“Two battlecruisers and a cruiser,” he said. “It’s a mixture of HecSha and Maki.”
“They figured it out,” Paka said, flying into the CIC, the huge safety door sliding closed behind her.
“Welcome back,” Alexis said. The Veetanho looked at the sea of red and yellow indicators on the Tri-V display of Pegasus that floated near Guylan.
“How bad?” she asked.
“Bad,” Alexis said, and turned to Chug. “Can we beat them to the stargate?”
“How many Gs can you give me?” he asked Guylan, who tapped at his controls.
“Three, with minimal shields and defenses. Only one and a quarter with full shields, and three quarters with currently available offense and defense at maximum.”
On the big Tri-V, the three flight solutions were displayed, as Chug had suggested. It also noted the intercept points on all three. Even with no shields and simply running, the three enemy ships would have weapons range on them almost 20 minutes before they reached the stargate. They wouldn’t make it.
“What’s our tactical situation, Edwards?” Alexis asked.
“Not good, Captain,” he said and took temporary control of the central Tri-V. “While the blast on the rear magazine didn’t spread, there’s damage to the feed mechanisms. Missiles are out. Some of the thruster relays were damaged from the hit on Deck 9; and it looks like the maneuvering bridge is toast. Deck 25 took a hit that destroyed three of our five main laser generators, so the aft battery is effectively out until DC can evaluate secondary damage. We don’t want to risk turning 100 megawatts loose inside the ship. We’re down to forward missile and laser batteries, the main gun, and about two-thirds of our anti-missile lasers pods. Nine of 28 shield generators are out. Three look completely blown, but we need DC to evaluate further. We also can’t fight at full power while running for the gate.”
“I don’t see a lot of options here,” Alexis said, then keyed the intercom to engineering. “Long, I need that Reactor Two again for a minute. Just like back in Karma.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Long, have you ever known me to kid?”
“No, I haven’t,” he said. The sounds of shorting electrical connections and shou
ting damage control parties were clearly audible over the engineer’s clicking, hissing voice. “We had 70 containment buffers. Four are toast, eight more are damaged.” In the CIC, a graphic representation of the toroid-shaped reactor appeared, the donut shaped ring of buffers showed 70 slices around the reactor. Four were red, eight more were yellow. The red slices were all on the same corner, the yellow spread out. “We can lose almost half the buffers and maintain containment,” Long explained, “as long as they’re spread out.” Adjacent to three of the four red buffers, were yellow ones. “Losing two next to each other creates stress. Lots of stress. Enough to make more of those yellows fail. Running the reactor at 100 percent, which is what we need to power the hyperspace shunt and the hyperspace generators at the same time, is foolhardy.”
“But only long enough to get into hyperspace,” she reminded him. “Then you can run off Reactor Three, which is in perfect shape, right?” Silence answered her. “Right?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good,” she said. “Then once more unto the breach, dear friend. Once more, and we can get Home.”
“Yes, Captain.” Long looked away from the intercom at his tired, sweaty, wounded engineering staff. He’d lost two of the reactor watch when the laser tore through the hull and destroyed Reactor One. How much more could you demand of beings before they broke? He was afraid he would find out before it was all over. “Okay,” he called out over the squadnet to his crew, “we need peak output from Reactor Two for about one minute. Double the reactor watch and stand by!”
Fifteen minutes later, Reactor Three was at 100 percent power, and Two was on standby. Power coursed through the hull, energizing the hyperspace generators, and the circle of shunts was activated and ready around her nose.
“Ship reports ready,” Paka said, and the intercom sounded.
“Prepare for transition in one minute.”
“
“Be alert, something is wrong.” They all double-checked their boards. It was the sensor operator, Flipper, who spoke up.
“I have low power signals in near space,” he said.
“Drones,” Glick said after running the data. “Shit, four seekers. They’re all around us!”
“Chug, get us out of here!” Alexis barked.
“Power to the shunts,” Chug called, and engineering spun up Reactor Two. Long chittered nervously as he slid the power control up on the already damaged reactor.
“Come on hatchling,” he said, almost caressing the control, “one more time…”
“Power coming up,” Chug said, “course set for Home. Energizing the shunts. Five…four…three…two…”
A two-terawatt particle beam slashed into and through Pegasus from almost directly astern, and it sliced into one of the three fusion torches. The energy was held in check for a fraction of a second by the reactor chamber as the hyperspace window opened, and Pegasus transitioned out of the normal world. Then the engine exploded, destroying Reactor Three.
* * * * *
Chapter 37
EMS Pegasus
En route to Home
Hyperspace
The impact of the beam weapon against the stern of the ship didn’t immediately register on the bridge. There was a singular moment of creation/uncreation as the ship moved into hyperspace, then the explosion. The entire ship lurched, as if it had been struck from behind by another, faster ship. Alarms blared, and the power fluctuated. Alexis’ eyes went wide with surprise and fear. Transition to hyperspace was the most dangerous moment of space travel.
“What was that?” she demanded. Guylan turned to look at her, his mouth open in shock.
“Reactor Three is offline,” he said, “we have massive damage to engineering.”
“Long, report,” she called. There was no immediate response. She looked back to Guylan. “Get every available hand to engineering immediately!” He nodded and started sending the all-hands call. “Engineering, do you read?” Alexis called out. Finally, Hoot turned his head around to face her.
“I have engineering on the emergency circuit. Most comms are down.”
“I’m having to use radios for my teams,” Guylan confirmed.
“Long here,” came the scratchy, static-filled voice of their Jeha engineer. “Reactor Three was almost completely destroyed.” He was forced to yell to be heard over the blaring alarms and the roar of the overloaded systems. “There are plasma fires burning in a dozen places!”
“What happened?” Alexis asked. “Reactor Three was fine!”
“We took a hit,” the engineer replied. “I can’t be sure, but I’d say it was a particle beam right into the fusion torch just before we transitioned.”
“Oh gods,” Chug said.
“I lost a dozen members of my staff,” Long continued. “We’re in deep shit down here.” Alexis caught movement out of the corner of her eye as Guylan flipped out of his chair and flew for the exit. “The beam must have blown out the torch’s reaction chamber, and then gone right into the reactor core. There’s nothing left of the reactor; we have pieces of buffers and the containment vessel everywhere. Safeties failed, and the drive plasma started arcing around engineering. One of my assistants waded in and manually engaged the vent. We never found his body. He saved the ship.”
“Are we stable in hyperspace?” Alexis asked Chug.
“Yes,” her helm answered, “but power is fluctuating.”
“We’re at 89 percent,” Long warned. There was a resounding bang. “And there goes another buffer! Captain, if you can’t reduce the power load, we’re going to lose the last reactor.” The display showing the reactor was still up on the bridge. Everyone could see five red buffers now, all on the same quadrant of the reactor. The newest one was just four buffers from a previously failed one, and there were two yellows between them.
“Guylan,” Alexis said over the radio. “Override and shut down everything you can.”
“What do you mean, ‘everything?’” the elSha asked as he raced aft.
“We need 20 terawatts to stay in hyperspace,” Chug said.
“I mean everything besides the hyperspace nodes,” Alexis ordered. “Put the ship on emergency life support for now. Shut it all down!”
The elSha gasped in alarm, but a second later status boards started to go red. Throughout Pegasus, every deck began to go dark. After a moment, Long spoke again.
“Down to 72 percent,” he said. “Any more?” Chug shook his head adamantly.
“I’m afraid not,” Alexis said. They waited for several long moments as the Jeha worked at the other end of the ship.
“It might be enough for now,” he said. “But for 170 hours?” He didn’t sound optimistic.
“One hundred seventy hours,” Alexis said. She looked up. On the CIC display, now running off emergency power, was a number; 169:56:15. It continued to count down.
* * *
Rick had been doing okay until they landed, thanks to the drugs and his altered emotional state. Paka exited the shuttle like a streak the moment they set down, and the marines stayed buckled into the shuttle to ride out the final minutes of the battle.
The seconds of radical acceleration knocked him out for a minute, and his head was swimming a bit even before they transitioned to hyperspace; but the sudden, jarring, and unusual leap into that nothingness temporarily jerked him back to reality.
“What the hell was that?” the marines asked at the same time.
“I’ve never felt a transition like that before,” T’jto said. When the hangar deck crewmen opened the door, the look on her face confirmed it was far from normal.
“Lieutenant,” she said, looking confused and unsure, “better get your marines below. Captain’s orders.” Confused and sore, they did as ordered.
As they moved aft, the damage to the warship was more and more evident. The blast doors on Deck 25 were sealed off and showed signs of heat damage. They had to divert to the opposit
e gangway on Deck 29 to avoid the missile magazine that had exploded.
“The ship really took a pounding,” T’jto said, looking at the deformation of the overhead in the squad bay, the result of the magazine detonation.
“Makes you wonder who thought it was a great idea to put a missile magazine next to the marine’s barracks,” Eskla, one of the two Zuul in Raptor Squad, said as they split off to go to their quarters.
“The missiles are essential,” Johansson said; “we aren’t.”
One of the marine armorers, Tina Bradshaw, was a qualified Human medic. She came in and gave Rick’s arm a single look, turned green, and left to tend to the CASPers.
Several of the other marines took Oort and gently strapped her to a spot in the squad bay. She was breathing regularly, but still hadn’t said a word since they’d fled the Maki battleship.
Rick helped himself to some more pain relievers from his medkit. He knew enough about a trauma like this; using nanites would be a mistake. His arm was gone, but there were other options, and spraying the stump with nanites would limit them. A few minutes later, the main lighting cut out, and they had to dig out portable, battery-powered lanterns. They were also warned that main life-support was shut down, so field oxygen recyclers were taken from the stores.
“It’s bad,” T’jto said, as she helped set them up. When a pair of damage control crew passed through, the marines waylaid the hapless men for information. They finally found out the ship was indeed in hyperspace, but operating on one fusion reactor—the badly damaged one. Damage control teams were still working on the wreckage in engineering, that strange impact they’d felt was a last-second hit just before they transitioned to hyperspace. It had cost them their last fully-functional fusion reactor.
It was more than three hours before the medical team arrived. They’d been in engineering, treating more severely wounded crew. Dr. Ramirez went straight to Rick, his medical equipment in a big backpack for ease of movement. The man seemed quite at home in null gravity. His assistant, Nemo, went straight to Oort and began feeling her numerous injuries with his tentacles.
