“When did the Soberano show up?”
She gave me a puzzled look. “The Soberano? I haven’t seen Vargis since Icetop.”
I couldn’t believe he’d simply run, even if the Ravens were nearby. “Where’s the Codex?”
“In system control. Mannie tried analyzing it, but it was unresponsive. I thought we’d all been conned.”
I activated my communicator. “Izin, is the Codex up there with you?” I hadn’t seen it, but I’d been distracted by a deranged plasma torch wielding octo at the time.
“What is it?” Marie asked.
“Vargis knew you were here.”
“And he left us to die?” she exclaimed incredulously.
“He reported your position to Axon Control. That’s how I found you.”
“Captain,” Izin’s voice sounded in my earpiece, “it’s not here.”
“Damn! Vargis boarded your ship and took the Codex!” He must have made the same guess I had, that Marie was heading to the Society’s regional headquarters at Axon.
“That thieving bastard!” Marie said.
“Well, you stole it first.” I realized that wasn’t quite true. “Actually, I stole it first, you stole it second, he stole it third!”
She gave me a canny look. “I knew you cheated!”
“I improvised.”
The crawler in the processing core must have seen Vargis take the Codex, so why weren’t there bits of destroyed crawler and dead Soberano crewman littering the system control compartment? Then I remembered Bo believed Sarat’s auction had been rigged to ensure Vargis won. Could the homicidal crawlers have simply let him take the Codex, because whatever controlled them knew he was supposed to have it – that the Matarons wanted him to have it?
I activated my communicator. “Jase, what’s the status on those Ravens?”
Marie looked alarmed. “Ravens?”
“The scout’s back to the edge of the Shroud,” Jase said, “coming in slow. No sign of the other two.”
I quickly recounted how we’d scared off the scout. Now that it was back, I didn’t need to see the two Raven combat ships to know they were out there, waiting for the order to attack. “You need to get the Heureux out of here – fast.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got to find Vargis. He doesn’t know what he’s dealing with.”
“And you do?”
I couldn’t tell her Vargis was the unwitting target of a Mataron scheme to wreck our civilization. “You’ll have to trust me on that.”
“Vargis knows one thing. He knows what it’s worth,” she said slowly, deep in thought, “and he’s got a plan to exploit it.” Realization appeared on her face, then she gave me a wily look. “You have no idea where he’s gone, do you?”
“Not a clue. Do you?”
“Maybe.”
“You didn’t even know he boarded your ship! How could you possibly know where he’s taken the Codex?”
“Women’s intuition,” she said evasively, “and he said something back on Icetop.”
“We haven’t got time for this, Marie. Where’s he headed?”
She pressed her lips tightly together and crossed her arms defiantly.
So that was it! “You’re not coming. Your ship will barely make it to Axon, even with Izin’s help.”
“There’s room on your ship.”
“For you?” I laughed.
“Ugo can get the Heureux to Axon while you, my dear Sirius, are in desperate need of . . . me.”
“Not in a million years!”
“How about one in a million, because they’re your odds of finding Vargis without my help.”
“I know he didn’t tell you where he was going.”
“Not in so many words.”
“So you’re guessing?”
“I’m reading between the lines.”
“Tell me what you know and if it pans out, you’ll get your fair share.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, my love, it’s just that daddy taught his little girl never to let other people handle her credits.” She ran her finger across my shoulder teasingly. “You can handle my other assets, but not my credits!”
She was right about the odds. Vargis could be headed anywhere in Mapped Space. Finding him would be impossible without help.
I groaned, certain Jase and Izin would think I’d gone out of my mind, especially after the way she’d played me on Icetop. “If you’re lying to me, I swear, I’ll space you myself.”
“As if you could possibly do that to me!” She gave me a sly look. “Partner.”
* * * *
“The scout’s started a high-G run into the Shroud,” Jase’s voice sounded urgently in my earpiece. “It’s going to pass within ten thousand clicks of us.”
There’d be no hiding what we were at that range, then the two combat ships would bubble in on top of us and make sure none of us went home alive.
“Understood,” I said as I entered the Heureux’s system control room. Izin was packing his equipment away, watched by Ugo, who by his disdain was clearly not a tamph lover. “Can they get underway?”
“Their autonav is going through pre-start now, Captain,” Izin said. “They’ll be able to bubble in fifteen minutes.”
“The Ravens will be on us in ten,” I said as Marie appeared in the hatchway carrying a small bag ready to board the Lining.
She wore a headset so she could listen in on communications between the two ships. “Can you buy Ugo some time?” she asked.
“We can try.” I turned to Ugo. “If the combat ships jump in, we’ll have to run.”
“I know.” His eyes flicked to Marie with the worry of an adoptive father. “Don’t wait for us,” he said, giving me free reign to do whatever was necessary to ensure Marie didn’t fall into Raven hands.
“They won’t catch us,” I promised.
Marie hugged Ugo. “I’ll meet you at Axon,” she said, then we hurried to the airlock and cycled through into the Lining.
Once the airlock sealed, I called Jase. “We’re in. Let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“Across the scout’s trajectory, nice and slow. Make it look like we’re itching for a fight.”
“OK, you’re the boss,” Jase said uncertainly.
High speed was the resort of the weak, slow the choice of the strong. If we raced out there with our hair on fire, the two ships would close upon each other so fast, they’d have only a few seconds to fire before their opposing velocities carried them out of weapons range. It would then take time for both ships to decelerate and come back for another pass, giving either an opportunity to escape. It’s what the scout was banking on. It was coming in fast for a look, not a slugfest, intending to race away into the safety of the Shroud’s sensor clutter while its two attack dogs did the fighting. By going out slow, I was telling the scout I wanted more time in weapons range. It was a message they’d relay to the two combat ships, making them hesitate until they knew how big a stick I carried.
A dull thud echoed through the hull as the Lining released the old freighter. Marie and I hurried to the flight deck while Izin disappeared towards engineering. By the time I was sliding onto my acceleration couch, Jase had us on a course to the closest point intersecting the scout’s trajectory. Marie climbed onto the third couch placed centrally behind us, and slightly above the two piloting stations. Ideally, the Lining should have had a pilot, a sensor specialist and a navigator, who doubled as weapons operator in a crisis, but Jase and I juggled the duties between us, so the third seat was usually vacant.
“Any sign the scout’s getting cold feet?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s pulling low forties,” Jase replied, “but the two brawlers are powering weapons thirty million clicks out.”
“OK. Let’s see what he’s made of,” I said, activating the autonav. “Retract sensors.”
Jase gave me an apprehensive look when he realized I was going to micro-b
ubble out to the intercept point. “You sure, Skipper? We’ll be a sitting duck if that scout’s packing any real firepower.”
“I’m betting he isn’t, but he sure as hell will think we are.” It was an aggressive move, but it would keep the Ravens guessing and would buy Ugo a few more minutes. Unfortunately for the scout, it wasn’t all bluff.
The screen went blank as we retracted sensors to protect them from bubble heat, then for a fraction of a second we stretched spacetime around us and moved out to the interception point. The moment the bubble dropped, Jase deployed our sensors, bringing the screen back to life. I rolled the Lining bow over stern, applied a short high-G blast from the engines to kill our velocity, then rolled again so we were facing the scout at almost a dead stop, giving us maximum time in weapons range.
The maneuver was not lost on the Raven scout.
“You’re just going to sit here?” Marie asked.
She was a trader, born and bred. All her training was in how to avoid getting into a fight, not how to start one. “It’s the best place to be if you want to slug it out.”
“Isn’t this tow boat a little small for that?” she asked skeptically.
“You might be surprised.” I said as the scout yawed ninety degrees, still pulling high G’s, but now sliding away from its previous trajectory. “That Raven’s not taking any chances.”
“That’s because he has two killers to do his fighting for him,” Marie said.
“Be ready to bubble when you see double!” I said absently as I programmed the autonav to run the moment our sensors detected the combat ships in two locations at once. The old escape mantra was the key to surviving this kind of fight. When the Raven combat ships attacked, they’d bubble in travelling faster than the speed of light for a fraction of a second. Because the signals our sensors read travelled at the speed of light, we’d pick up both the attacker’s sensor ghost from their starting location and their actual presence nearby simultaneously – seeing double. That was the signal to run for our lives. We’d pull our sensors while they deployed theirs, and with luck we’d be superluminal before they could open fire.
For the navy, sensor ghosting was the signal to open fire, and the rationale for their battle saying – start trouble when you see double. They rarely got to use it because equally matched combat ships rarely bubbled into battle. They stalked each other with eyes open, careful not to give their opponent the chance for a knockout blow. In naval combat, it was decidedly better to receive than to give – to wait for the enemy to bubble blindly in to you than for you to bubble out to them with sensors stowed. It was simply the physics of space flight and it inherently favored the defensive, at least for the first few decisive seconds – unless one side had overwhelming superiority, in which case all bets were off. Weaker ships usually had the opportunity to escape before ever coming within weapons range. It was why the navy struggled to eliminate the Brotherhood, even when they had them cornered. The navy simply couldn’t engage them quickly without placing their own ships at unacceptable risk.
It was different for the traders. The Brotherhood would pounce as soon as a trade ship appeared, knowing their prey lacked the firepower to hurt them. It came down to how alert the trader crew were and whether they were equipped to fast bubble away before the pirate could deploy sensors and open fire. It was the ultimate game of cat and mouse.
Only this time, we were a mouse impersonating a cat.
“Are you going to fry our sensors again?” Jase asked, wondering if I’d wait for the sensors to retract or go early and let the bubble burn our eyes out. “You know how irritated Izin gets when he has to replace them.”
“No, we’ll have time.” I was normally prepared to cook our sensors if our lives depended on it, but I needed them to recover the Codex. The danger was if the Raven attack ships used a sensor feed from the scout, rather than wait for their own sensors to deploy, they could fire immediately. That would hurt. The only solution was to ensure the scout was in no shape to see for the combat ships.
“I’m reading a big shield,” Jase said, eyes glued to his sensor display. “Ablation type. Class five or six. No weapons.”
“Your little pop gun won’t do more than tickle that shield,” Marie said.
“Let’s hope they’re ticklish.” I glanced at Jase. “Range?”
“Seventy thousand clicks and closing fast.”
Marie leaned forward, wondering what I was waiting for. “Shouldn’t you be charging your gun?”
“No point. You’re right, it’d have no effect.” In the few seconds we’d have to hit the scout as it streaked past, the particle cannon would do little more than excite a few ions in the Raven’s shield, while charging it might encourage the combat ships to come in early. Better to keep them guessing, and with no active weapon signatures on the Lining’s hull, the scout wouldn’t appear to be in any immediate danger.
“Got another contact!” Jase exclaimed.
I glanced up at our view screen. A large marker dead ahead represented the scout racing towards us, while two smaller symbols to the upper right indicated where the two combat ships were waiting, but nothing else. “Where?”
“Behind us! It’s in the Shroud, half a million clicks astern.” Jase whistled slowly. “It’s bright! It’s damn near overloading our neutrino detector!”
I leaned toward his console. The contact’s immense energy output alone told me what it wasn’t – it wasn’t one of ours! “What’s it doing?”
“Nothing,” Jase said. “It’s just sitting there watching us.”
“What’s the spectral analysis?” Marie asked.
Jase furrowed his brow in confusion. “I got zero spectral!”
“That’s impossible,” Marie said in a tone indicating she thought he was reading it wrong. “Station keeping thrusters alone should be giving you something.”
I reoriented the optical feed towards the unknown contact astern. The Heureux had shrunk to a tiny sliver almost lost in the dust and gas of the Shroud, while the bright energy contact appeared as a rounded black mass lurking in the misty darkness. Our recognition system couldn’t get enough of an outline to attempt a silhouette match, but even if it had, I knew the prowling ship was a design unknown to our civilian catalogue. It didn’t matter. I’d seen enough to know why Jase was getting no spectral readings.
“It’s not using ion based technology.”
Jase glanced at me, immediately grasping the implications. “Same guys from Icetop?”
“Wait a minute! There were aliens on Icetop?” Marie asked confused.
In her desire to get away with the Codex, she’d stunned Jase before he could tell her a Mataron had killed Sarat and his guards.
“At least one,” I said. “Maybe more.”
“Why’s it following us?” she asked.
“Nosy aliens,” I said evasively.
Alien ships from across the galaxy regularly shadowed human ships without making contact, mostly out of scientific curiosity. Studying ships using what they considered to be ancient technologies was a window back into their own antiquity as interstellar civilizations, not a reason for open contact. In two and half thousand years, we hadn’t encountered a single civilization still using ion propulsion for sublight travel, although what they used remained a mystery. This time, however, I was certain our shadow was no curiosity seeker.
It was Mataron.
They knew the limits of our technology with frightening precision, although it did them no good. They could avoid most of our sensors at will, but not even a civilization as advanced as theirs could mask neutrinos produced by their ship’s energy plant. Out of all the thousands of civilizations we’d encountered, only the Tau Cetins could do that, and we suspected that was because they no longer used reactive energy sources.
I wondered if the Mataron who’d attacked Sarat’s penthouse was on that ship, and whether he knew who I was. When dealing with alien civilizations, I assumed they could do anything I could think of – that way they
never surprised me. I decided the Matarons knew I’d swiped the Codex out of the Consortium’s hands, making me a threat to their plans. It was why I had their attention now.
They’d be hoping the Ravens finished me off, but dared not interfere in case the Tau Cetins detected the residual effects of their technology, or worse, were themselves out there now, watching unknown to any of us. Fear of giving the Tau Cetins a reason to intervene would force the Matarons to watch helplessly from the shadows, hoping one group of humans destroyed another, even though they could have vaporized all of us in a heartbeat.
A rules-based universe had its advantages, even for a technologically immature, expansionist species like mankind.
“Ignore them,” I said, focusing the optics on the Raven scout again and switching my console’s mode from piloting to weapons. “Opening outer doors.”
The scout would detect the two meter circular opening appear in our bow. With luck, their nerve would break and they’d bubble away while they still could. Seconds passed and the Raven scout kept coming, sliding rapidly away to starboard. A flashing red targeting reticule appeared on the main screen framing the scout, signaling that it was still out of range.
“He’s thirty thousand clicks out,” Jase said. “Seven degrees off line.”
“The dynamics are still in our favor,” I said, watching how the yaw acceleration of the scout was affecting our firing solution. The Raven would now pass us six hundred kilometers to starboard. Another micro-bubble would improve our chance of a kill shot, but we’d have to go blind for a few seconds, giving the wolves an opportunity to pounce – not a risk I was prepared to take a second time. “The warhead is set to arm three seconds after launch.”
“What warhead?” Marie asked confused. “I thought you were bluffing!”
“This is how I bluff.”
We had one bird in the launcher and three reloads. Not an arsenal by any means, but a nasty surprise for an opponent who wasn’t expecting a hypervelocity anti-ship drone in the face. The ASD’s warheads were conventional, not reactive – technically only marginally illegal. The drone fired a statically charged penetrator through the target’s shield into its hull, delivering a high yield chemical explosive that wrecked fragile systems and triggered localized explosive decompression.
Mapped Space 1: The Antaran Codex Page 20
