"Uriqollor Bdillaaq, SC Territorial Guard, Captain of the Mnesppretul, near the Ruwaler base, end of message."
"Chief, put the reports of the navigator and tac officer on my right monitor."
"Aye, sir."
Gleason viewed each of the reports carefully. The images of the ship showed it to be nearly identical to the one the Mekong and Rio Grande had been watching until it disappeared. Audio from monitors mounted on the command chair was automatically routed through the chair occupant's CT. After listening to the reports and scanning the graphed data, Gleason touched his SC ring to establish a carrier. His eyes darted to a chronometer reading on another monitor and he closed his eyes for a second before taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Captain's quarters," he said.
Commander Cody Morrow, Captain of the Mekong, scowled at the dim numbers on his bulkhead chronometer after waking to the chime of the com unit on his nightstand. It seemed like he'd just gone to bed, but the chronometer indicated that it was 0408.
"Captain," was all he said as he raised the com lid.
"Sir, we just received a broadcast that reports the position of a Denubbewa mother ship."
"A broadcast?" Morrow said sleepily.
"Yes, sir. It was an encrypted message from the captain of the Territorial Guard destroyer Mnesppretul. It puts the Denubbewa ship eighty-six light-years from the Ruwaler base."
"Ruwaler?" Morrow said with obvious incredulity as he came fully awake. "That can't be our missing ship. There's no way it could have gotten all the way up there since it disappeared."
"No, sir. That's why I felt the information was important enough to disturb your sleep."
"Was the ship stationary?"
"No, it was under power."
"Where's it headed?"
"Uh— this way, sir."
"Towards us?"
"Yes, sir. Not directly, of course, but in this general direction. It's reported course will take it directly towards the location of the mother ship we had been observing."
"Hmm, sounds like they intended to rendezvous," Morrow said almost absentmindedly.
"Yes, sir. It does sound that way. I thought they still might."
"Are we near the course our mother ship would follow if there is an intended rendezvous?"
"No, sir. The search plan we're following has that area assigned to the Rio Grande."
"Very well. Contact the Rio Grande and tell them of our suspicions. Commander Hodenfield will have to decide whether or not to alter his search to investigate the search area where we suspect the mother ship might be. Uh— ask them to keep us advised. I'm going back to sleep. Out."
"Yes, sir. Out."
As Morrow laid back down, he thought about the situation. If Hodenfield decided not to break off his search and follow the vector the mother ship might have taken if a rendezvous was planned, he would take it upon himself to do so. But he knew Marc Hodenfield pretty well and couldn't really imagine him not following up on this lead.
* * *
"A message for you just arrived from the Mekong, Captain," the com chief said early in the first watch.
"Put it on my right-hand monitor, Chief."
"Aye, sir. After tapping a point on his console, he said, "It's there, sir."
Morrow scanned the queue and selected the message.
"Hi, Cody," Morrow heard in his CT as the image of Commander Marc Hodenfield appeared on the monitor. "We've located the missing mother ship along the vector you suggested. My compliments to your third watch bridge crew. We received the Territorial Guard broadcast, but my third watch commander decided not to wake me and just put the message in my queue. However, when your message came in, he decided I should hear it right away. I had him immediately alter course and we've just located the Denubbewa ship.
"Since we've just confirmed the presence of the ship, you're up next in four hours. My navigator will send you the position, course, and the exact time we plotted it so you can plot the next location for your flyby. The ship is traveling at Light-462.
"Assuming that our mother ship is on its way to rendezvous with the one reported by the Territorial Guard ship, and that both are traveling at only Light-462, my navigator estimates they won't meet up for months. So I suppose the question is whether or not there are others also headed to the rendezvous location in preparation for making a concerted push through Region Two. But I guess that's something for R2HQ to think about. We'll just keep following our orders.
"Marc Hodenfield, Commander, Captain of the Rio Grande GSC-SDD063 in Region Two, message complete."
* * *
"The laboratory analysis of the missile is complete, Admiral," Captain DeWitt said.
"Tell me you have good news," Jenetta said.
"I have— news."
"Okay, tell me anyway."
"The warhead is as we expected. A substance is contained in a glass globule which is protected by a composite metal shield that shatters on contact with a target. The substance in the globule is a thick viscous matter rather than a liquid, so it doesn't spurt out. We envision it as spreading from the force of the strike but never separating. Upon contact with the hull, a chemical process is initiated that eats away at the Dakinium. The missile shaft remains firmly rooted in the goo while the chemical process takes place. The tip of the missile beneath the glass globe contains a fuse and the goo also eats away at that while eating away at the ship's hull. When it eats through to the fuse, the nuclear charge is detonated. By that time, the hull where the goo spread out is ready to flake apart, so the small nuclear charge blasts through, destroying bulkheads and flooding the interior of the ship with radiation. Following the explosion, the atmo is evacuated. It's a simple device, much like our bomb, but highly effective."
"Yes, we've seen the evidence of that. Now for the big question. Do you think the goo was developed from the chemical formula we use to cut and mold Dakinium?"
"No. We believe it was just a coincidence. The goo has destroyed everything we've tested it on. It's just a sort of all-purpose hull penetration chemical."
"So you're saying they just got lucky?"
"I can't say that. Perhaps an enemy they've encountered in the past had a material like Dakinium, and they had to develop a chemical that would destroy it as well as anything else. We know that the Dakistians had a Dakinium-like material hundreds of centuries ago."
"So much for our vaunted invincibility," Jenetta said.
"If it makes you feel any better, the Denubbewa goo also eats through tritanium in seconds."
"It doesn't. It means that our older ships and the Territorial Guard ships will be just as vulnerable as the DS ships. We still have to find a way to defeat this race. Any luck with the DeTect issue?"
"Not yet. My people are studying everything ever written about the development work, but we're only partway through the hundreds of thousands of pages of research notes."
"Okay, Barbara. Thank you. Good work on the missile analysis. Is there anything else?"
"No. That was all, Admiral. I wanted to get this report to you right away."
* * *
"As all of you know," Arthur Strauss, Chairman of the Lower Council said to the other council members, "the eight male members of the Upper Council unanimously opted to undergo the DNA Manipulation process and change their gender so they could undergo the Age Regression process which, as you also know, only works on females. The four female members of the Upper Council elected to undergo the Age Regression and Age Prolongation process immediately since their gender was already suited to the processes. Once the DNA Manipulation process was complete for the males, they also immediately opted to begin the Age Regression and Age Prolongation processes. Last night I was informed that the four members of the Upper Council who first partook of the Age Regression process are now terminally ill. Inexplicably, their internal organs have begun mutating. They are not expected to live beyond the end of this year. The other eight show no sign of the mutations— as yet, but will be closely mo
nitored for any such changes."
"Mutating into what?" Councilmember Erika Overgaard asked.
"Not mutating into anything. They're simply changing form, composition, and function. To repeat what a doctor said to me: What happens when your heart no longer performs like a heart? If it was just one organ, it could be replaced, but their entire internal physiology structure seems to be changing. The doctors don't know any more than that at this time.
"All four patients are under twenty-four-hour observation and are highly medicated to ease their pain. The eight former males are also under round-the-clock observation because the doctors expect they'll suffer from the same mutating effects. The only successful application of the Age Regression process was Nicole Ravenau, a.k.a. Mikel Arneu, and all medical records of her regression were lost when her laboratory was destroyed. If she hadn't been killed, the doctors could examine her and possibly get some insight into the problem."
"Since Ravenau had been a male originally," Overgaard said, "perhaps the eight members of the Upper Council who had been males will not suffer the mutations."
"That's our hope at this point. It's possible that the recuperative powers of the DNA Manipulation process made the males immune to the mutation effects."
"So where does that leave us?" Councilmember Frederick Kelleher asked.
"The Upper Council is the guiding force of the corporation, but this council conducts the day-to-day operations, so business will continue as always. Once we know more about the long-term medical situation of the Upper Council members, decisions will be made regarding a possible restructuring of both councils."
* * *
"Commander," the technician in the Approach and Departure Center said, "That anomaly has returned."
Commander Blithallo moved behind the technician reporting the anomaly again and stared at the DeTect screen.
"It's gone already, sir. It only appears for an instant and only twice each shift."
"We're under power now. It doesn't make sense that we would see it out here."
"Yes, sir, I know, but it keeps showing up nevertheless."
"The city directors must be correct. Despite assertions by the repair technicians that the equipment is working properly, it has to be a mechanical problem."
"Yes, sir. I should ignore it then?"
"I had a dozen different ships visually check that area of our perimeter when we were stationary, and they never saw anything out there. We're under power now, so if there was something, we should have left it far behind us. It has to be a problem with the equipment. Yes, just ignore it."
"Yes, sir."
* * *
"Increase the power, slowly," Captain DeWitt said.
The hangar was as quiet as a tomb as the forty-three engineers, scientists, and technicians stared in silence at the several monitors located around the work area. All were displaying an image of the new Extended Range DeTect screen being used for the test.
As the power increased slowly from zero, blips representing ships in orbit around Quesann popped onto the screen. Ten shuttles had been positioned in billion-kilometer intervals beginning at a distance of five billion kilometers from the base and extending out to fourteen billion. When a blip representing the first shuttle appeared, scattered noise was also visible, but a cheer went up in the hangar.
"Quiet down," Captain DeWitt said. "You can cheer when we see the shuttle sitting at fourteen billion kilometers."
The technician continued to increase the power, and more of the deployed shuttles appeared, but white background noise began to appear just beyond the four billion kilometer range and began to increase rapidly as the distance was increased. When blips representing the shuttle at the seven-billion-kilometer range should have made an appearance, it was impossible to discern anything on a screen that appeared as a solid image of white noise.
"Shut it down," Captain DeWitt finally said to the technician at the console. "Okay, people," she said to the others in the hangar, "just as there was no reason for cheering before, there's no reason for long faces now. All we were attempting to do here today was duplicate the results of the last test by the original creative team who gave us the DeTect system. The white noise we've seen today is exactly what they were getting so long ago. When they couldn't make any further improvements, they locked the system in at four billion kilometers and that's where it's remained until now. At that distance there's no background noise in the image.
"We've collected all the data we need, so now it's time to get to work. Let's analyze the data in the computers and develop some theories about making improvements to the system. You all know what to do, so let's start doing it."
To the com chief, Captain DeWitt said, "Recall the deployed shuttles, Chief. Have them report back to their ships."
"Aye, Captain."
* * *
The audible signal in the living quarters area sent Vyx scrambling to the bridge. A light on the com was flashing so Vyx flicked a switch on the console and listened to the incoming message.
"Attention Desert Denizen. Respond using encryption code 19AR94HW463D."
Vyx called up the specified encryption code from the computer and activated it. "This is the Scorpion," was all he said as he keyed the mic.
"Scorpion, this is the SC Transport Ship Edison. Transmit your current location."
Vyx deftly keyed an instruction into the navigation computer and verified the information that popped up on the screen. "Transmitting," Vyx said as he tapped the send key on the navigation computer.
"Data received, Scorpion. Standby."
"Roger."
Less than a minute later, Vyx heard, "Scorpion, cancel your envelope. We will arrive at your vicinity in ninety-two seconds."
"Roger. Scorpion cancelling envelope." As Vyx tapped a contact point on the helm console, the Scorpion came to a complete stop and its envelope dissolved. Vyx leaned back in his chair and waited for the Edison to arrive.
* * *
As the Edison neared the coordinates provided by the Scorpion, the helmsman canceled the double envelope and engaged the sub-light engines. Over the next sixty seconds, the transport closed with the small ship.
"The Scorpion is just ahead, Captain," the Edison tac officer said.
"Helm, take us to five kilometers from the ship," Commander Garth Ginsburg said.
"All stop," the Helmsman said a few seconds later.
An image of the Scorpion filled the full bulkhead monitor at the front of the bridge.
"Com, inform the Scorpion that we're preparing to take her aboard."
"Aye, Captain."
"Tac, open the bow and send out the tugs."
"Aye, sir."
Ten minutes later, tugs were visible on the front monitor as they approached the Scorpion. The process of guiding the small ship into the enormous transport took the better part of an hour, but as the Edison's bow began to close, the Scorpion was being secured in place.
"The captain of the Scorpion is here," the computer advised Captain Ginsburg as he sat at his desk in his office next to the bridge.
"Come," Ginsburg said, and the doors parted to allow Vyx to enter.
"Welcome aboard, Trader," Ginsburg said as Vyx strode into the office.
"Thank you, Captain," Vyx said as he looked around. Compared to the offices of captains on most warships, Vyx would have to describe Ginsburg's office as austere. The walls seemed to be covered in some sort of fabric applied directly to metal surfaces, and the furniture was covered in a kind of plastic or vinyl material rather than the real leather found in the offices of warship commanders. Vyx reminded himself that command officers aboard support vessels came from the group who never made the cut for warship command and so never attended the Warship Command Institute in Australia. It was rare when they risked their lives during their careers, so they didn't get all the perks of the people for whom such risk could be a daily occurrence.
"Have a seat," Ginsburg said, gesturing to the chairs facing his desk.
Vyx dropped into the nearest chair and crossed his legs. "We appreciate your giving us a lift, Captain. We didn't particularly relish the idea of spending the next four years traveling to our destination and back."
"My orders are a little vague, Trader. Perhaps you can enlighten me. Where do you need a ride to? And why have we been ordered to transport a civilian spacecraft?"
"I wish I could tell you where we're going, but I can't. It's not because I wouldn't like to, but simply because I don't know. I can give you a course but not a specific destination. As to why you're transporting a civilian spacecraft— you're not. We both work for the same boss on Quesann."
"You're SCI?"
"Yes, Captain. We've been tailing a freighter of interest for months. We've come to believe that it's headed to a destination outside GA space. At their present speed of Light-450, they won’t reach the border for two years, and then we don't know how far outside GA space they intend to travel. We don't wish to spend the next six years tailing them to where they're going and then traveling back to Uthlarigasset. This ship can reach the border in a few months and have us back to Uthlarigasset in six."
"You've been following them at Light-450? In that small ship?"
"That small ship can keep up with any non-DS ship in the First or Second Fleets. We had no trouble following the freighter at Light-450, but without Light-9790 we'll be following along for possibly years and then have to return the same way."
"We can take you to the border, but we're not permitted to cross out of GA space. We're not a warship."
"What are your orders for this mission in exact terms?"
"To pick you up and take you wherever you wish to go."
"So there's your authorization to cross the border. The responsibility is on my head. If you still feel hesitant to do as I ask, I can send a message to Admiral Carver and ask her to clarify the orders for you."
Retreat and Adapt Page 21
