by Jay Posey
“Very well,” she said. “You’ve bought yourself a reprieve for the moment. Understand this, very clearly. If your ship moves, you will be destroyed. If any additional ships approach, you will be destroyed, and then they will be destroyed. If we detect the slightest hint that anything you have told us is a lie, you will be destroyed.”
“Understood, captain. Thank you. You may very well have just averted a war.”
“Or guaranteed the death of my crew,” Liao said. She closed the channel. “Tactical, maintain firing solution. Scramble whiskers to verify target position.”
“Scramble whiskers, aye,” the officer replied. A minute later, the tactical officer reported. “Whiskers away.”
The crew sat in tense silence, undoubtedly wondering whether the whiskers’ intelligence would reach them before enemy fire did.
* * *
“ALL RIGHT, we’ve done everything we can,” Lincoln said, last to climb into the Lamprey. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We’ve got a problem with that,” Wright said from the pilot’s seat. “We still can’t raise Whiplash.”
“We better launch anyway,” Lincoln replied. “Get us pointed the right direction, we’ll figure it out on the way.”
“Captain, you’re talking about putting us out into open space in a practically impossible-to-detect speck of a craft. If we can’t reach Whiplash, we’ll be floating to a slow and cold death.”
“What other option do we have, sergeant? If we stay, they’re going to either capture us, or just kill us outright. And there’s nothing tying any of this to UAF, except for us. It’s going to be mighty hard to convince anybody this wasn’t a botched UAF operation if they find us on board.”
“We don’t know what they’re going to do,” Wright countered. “I’d rather take my chances with the CMA Navy than open space.”
The Lamprey’s sensor array bleeped once, indicating new contacts.
“What’s that?” Lincoln asked.
“Looks like we’ve got whiskers inbound,” Wright said. “Combat capable.”
There wasn’t going to be a perfect solution. There was no point in looking for it.
“We’re going to shove off,” Lincoln said. “If it goes bad, we’ll pop distress, and whoever comes to get us first can have us.”
“Wait a sec,” Thumper said. “I’ve got a signal here… It’s not Whiplash, but it’s got the right credentials.”
“Incoming?” Lincoln asked.
“Yeah.”
“Take it.”
“Go ahead,” Thumper said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “We read you.”
“This is uh… this is Havoc Lead, wingleader for Whiplash’s escort element.”
Thumper exhaled with relief. “We copy, Havoc Lead, good to hear from you. We’ve been trying to raise Whiplash. Is their commo down?”
“Not exactly. Could you, uh, identify?”
“Oh yeah, this is Growler,” Thumper said, and she flashed the team’s credentials across to Havoc’s array. “We’re in a Lamprey delivery vehicle, looking for a ride home.”
“All right Growler, good copy. So here’s the situation. Whiplash got recalled. Some kind of confusion about mission authorization, I don’t know. Point is, your piggyback ride is gone. Do you have another ship inbound to pick you up?”
“Negative Havoc,” Thumper answered. “We were counting on Whiplash for that.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Havoc Lead said. “I’m in a gunship, closing on your position at full burn. If you got grapples, I should be able to tow you in. Won’t be as comfortable as riding with Whiplash, but it’s probably better than getting left behind. Are you clear?”
“Negative, Havoc, we’ve got whiskers inbound.”
“Understood, we’ve got ’em on scopes.”
“Havoc Lead, this Growler Lead,” Lincoln said, taking over. “If we launch, can we meet you halfway?”
“Uh… that’s going to be risky, sir. I don’t think I can read you on scans. If you launch, I’d say there’s a better than ninety percent chance I’d miss you. But I can read that ship you’re on just fine.”
“You sound like you’ve got an idea.”
“It’s not a great idea, but it is an idea.”
“Shoot.”
“All right. I need you to move your craft as far aft on the ship as you can get without detaching,” Havoc Lead said. “As absolutely far aft as you can get, and dead along the centerline. And then I want you to deploy grapples.”
“How many?”
“All of them,” Havoc Lead answered. “Everything you’ve got. As fast as you can, and let me know as soon as you’re in place.”
“Roger, Havoc. Stand by,” Lincoln said. He closed the channel, and looked at Wright. “You want to take us out, or you want me to do it?”
“Sit down, and strap in,” Wright said, and she fired up the thrusters.
* * *
“WHISKERS WILL BE in range in four minutes,” Noah said.
Will checked the scopes, checked the gunship’s velocity.
“We’re not going make it,” he said. “Not in and back out again.”
“Six whiskers,” Noah said. “If we get the jump on it, we might be able to hit a couple of them on the way, and then bug out.”
“Might,” Will said. “But I’m pretty sure getting noticed is the thing we don’t want to have happen. If those whiskers get a read on us, we’re going to blow open the whole op, and who knows what that would bring down.”
“I don’t see how we have much choice,” Noah answered. “Either we go in and they see us, or we don’t, and we’ve got to tell Growler down there we’re not coming after all.”
Neither option was acceptable, but those did seem to be the only two choices. Will checked every setting he could think of one last time, but that only confirmed that he already had the ship on full blast; they just couldn’t close the gap fast enough.
“Well,” Noah said. “Unless we go in cold.”
“How’s that?”
“Whiskers primarily track heat and transmissions,” Noah answered. “If we go to full shutdown at the right time, we might be able to coast through, make the grab on the way by. If we’re quiet enough about it, we might be stay under the detection threshold.”
Full shutdown meant full. No communications, no weapons, no life support. No maneuvering thrusters. They’d have to rely on their flight suits to keep them breathing and warm for however long it took to make the grab and get clear. And if they had any hope of making the grab at all, that meant Will would have to line it up perfectly before they shut down. After that, they’d be drifting at high velocity with no chance to change course.
“You think you can make that shot?” Noah asked.
“Do you?” Will replied.
“I know you can,” Noah answered.
“Sounds like there’s going to be some math involved, though. Figuring out when to shut down, how fast we can go, all that.”
“I’m working it out right now,” Noah said. “Better let Growler know it’s going to be a bumpy pickup.”
Will nodded and opened a channel back up to the Growler team, gave them a quick overview of the plan. The team leader didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, but he didn’t try too hard to talk them out of it either.
“Roger, Havoc,” the boarding team’s leader said. “We’ve got the Lamprey moved to position, aft and along the centerline.”
“Roger that, Growler. We’re going to be coming in pretty hot, so make sure you and your teammates are strapped in real good.”
“Understood Havoc, we’ll be ready.”
“Once those whiskers get in, we’re going to have to go dark on communications until we’re safely out of range. Might be a while before you hear from us again.”
“Do what you have to do, Havoc. We’re good.”
“All right, Growler. Stand by. I’ll let you know when we’re going dark.”
“Standing by.”
/> Will adjusted course, positioned his gunship to approach the target ship on a vertical axis.
“How fast can we take her in, and what angle should I hit?” he asked his brother.
“Pushing numbers to your console now,” Noah said.
The relevant data appeared on Will’s display, and he started making the necessary adjustments to his flight path.
“You’re sure the grapples can handle this?” he asked.
“How much do you trust my math?” Noah said.
“As much as you trust my flying.”
“Then we’ll be good,” Noah said. “But, you know. Don’t miss. And let’s not tell Mom.”
“Deal,” Will said. “All right, Bear…” He nudged the stick, rolled the ship a few more degrees. The AI-assist produced its own approach solution, but it was counting on having full thruster functionality. Nothing in the system was built to do what they were about to try. Will flicked off the AI-assist, and then muted the warnings blaring that AI-assist was now offline. “On my mark, shut her down.”
“Hey. Bubba,” Noah said.
“Yeah?”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, buddy.”
* * *
LINCOLN LOOKED around at his teammates, each strapped in, faceplates closed, and braced for whatever came next. Wright was still in the pilot’s position, Thumper sat in the middle. Sahil was at the far end, with the girl seated next to him. She was quiet and still, but her fear was obvious. Lincoln couldn’t blame her. He was scared himself. She’d thanked him for coming to get her. He’d told her to save her thanks until they’d gotten home.
It’d been almost twenty minutes since Havoc had gone dark, and it had seemed like hours. The temptation to make contact was almost unbearable. Despite the risk it posed, Lincoln felt a gnawing desire to confirm one last time that Havoc was still out there, still on the way. That Lincoln and his team hadn’t been left behind after all.
Lincoln drew a deep breath to steady himself. And when he exhaled, a heavy impact shuddered the Lamprey. An instant later, Lincoln was thrown hard at an odd angle, his harness strained against sudden acceleration. Though the Lamprey’s internal grav was active, he felt wild vertigo, a sign that the craft was tumbling. An alarm sounded from the main console, warning of the out-of-control spin, as though there was anything any of them could do about it now.
It was impossible to tell whether they’d just experienced a high-velocity pickup, or if Relentless had decided to open fire after all. Or, worse. That Havoc had miscalculated the approach and had slammed into the hull of the main ship. It was entirely possible that they were still attached to the aft section of Yoo Ling 4, and that it was spiraling out into space after the ship’s destruction.
The tumbling continued for a long span, longer than Lincoln had ever imagined possible. Long enough to confirm his fears.
And then, the comm channel came to life.
“Growler, this is Havoc,” the pilot said. “You read us?”
Lincoln was so surprised to hear the call that at first, he forgot to respond.
“Growler, you alive back there?” the pilot repeated.
“That appears to be affirmative Havoc,” Lincoln finally answered. “How we looking?”
“Light, bright, and aaalll right,” Havoc Lead said. “We just cleared detection range, and we’re getting systems back up and online. We’ll get this tumble under control and get pointed the right direction, and then we’ll be underway as soon as I can feel my fingers again.”
“Roger that, Havoc, that’s great news. And some seriously impressive flying.”
“Well, to be honest, there wasn’t much flying between going dark and now. A whole lot of praying, but not a lot of flying.”
“Then that was some seriously impressive praying, Havoc.”
The pilot chuckled. “Can’t take much credit for that, either, Growler. Sit back and relax. We’ll get you all home soon enough.”
Lincoln felt a flood of relief, followed by a wave of exhaustion. All the emotion that he’d kept in check and bottled up on mission erupted. He and his teammates shared a few moments of raw celebration, a collective release of built-up tension and fear unrealized. But it was all tinged with heaviness, and for Lincoln, at least, there was one thought that rose above all else, that dominated his mind and demanded account.
Havoc Lead had said he’d get them all home. But Lincoln knew that wasn’t quite true. Not for Mike. And there, once the team had shared their moment, finally safe, Lincoln muted his comm channel and allowed himself to weep.
* * *
“I KNOW it’s an unusual request, Deshi,” Liao said over her personal communications channel. “There’s some concern that our sensor system might be off calibration, and I’d rather that not be a matter of official record, if it’s something we can take care of ourselves.”
“Sure, Rianne, I understand. You just want us to verify your whiskers?”
“That’s all.”
“OK,” Deshi said. “Shouldn’t take but just a minute.”
Deshi was a rear admiral in the United American Federation Navy, running one of their prize carriers in the group that’d been sent as a show of force. And an old friend. A couple of minutes elapsed, and then he returned to her line.
“We’re showing them in open space, at 2,593 kilometers outside Martian control, shadowing a civilian cruiser,” he said. “Is that what you expected?”
On Liao’s display, Relentless’s whiskers were arrayed around the Mako-class cruiser, 3,966 kilometers inside Martian control.
“Sounds about right,” Liao lied, with a smile. “A little bit off, but nothing we can’t correct. Thanks, Deshi.”
“Of course,” he said. “Buy me dinner next time we’re both on the same planet?”
“A drink, maybe,” she answered. “I need to go yell at some engineers now.”
“Don’t hurt anyone.”
“No promises,” she said. She closed out the personal channel, and then addressed her crew, “Communications, contact Ardent and direct them to cease communications with all other vessels immediately, pending a tech review of their sensor system. Tactical, what’s the feed from the whiskers?”
“Mako-class cruiser status is unchanged, but they’re picking up no signs of life aboard.”
His mood had changed; quieter, chastised. Not quite so eager to pull the trigger. A valuable lesson for him, perhaps.
And no signs of life aboard. Whoever her mysterious caller had been had vanished as surprisingly as he had first appeared. Liao had the feeling that was one mystery she would have to live with.
“Commander Gohar,” Liao said.
“Yes, captain?” her XO responded.
“Who’s the best tech on board?”
“I, uh… I’ll find out, captain.”
“Do, and then have them report to me in my ready room.”
“Aye, captain.”
Commodore Liao handed command of the bridge over to the next ranking officer and retired to her ready room. There, she poured herself a drink, and sat down to consider how close they had just come to tipping over the brink of war.
* * *
A FULL CRASH team was on standby when the gunship dragged Lincoln and his team into the hangar, but fortunately they weren’t needed. Even towing the sled in behind on tangled grapples, Havoc maneuvered them safely and expertly into the bay, which, given the previous demonstration of skill, surprised no one. Once they touched down, a medical team took charge of Piper, and started to lead her off for treatment and evaluation. She resisted, pulled away to approach Lincoln.
“Sir,” she said. “I… I don’t have the words…”
Lincoln nodded. “None necessary, ma’am.”
“But…” She struggled for a moment to find something to say, looked over at the Lamprey, where only three of Lincoln’s four teammates were gathered. “The cost…”
“Is one we’re willing to pay. Every one of us.”
“
I can never repay it.”
“Ma’am, if you hadn’t done all you did to call for help, we would never have found you. And if we hadn’t found you, there’s a very good chance Earth and Mars would be shooting at each other right now.”
She continued to stare at the Lamprey.
“Hey, María,” he said. “Piper. Listen.” He put a hand on her shoulder, gently turned her away from the ship. “Your actions saved far more lives than they cost. If my whole team had gone down pulling you out, it still would have been worth it. And I mean that, truly. You go on, live your life, guilt-free. Do the good you can. That’ll be thanks enough.”
She watched him for a moment, tears in her eyes. Then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Lincoln eased an arm around her, patted her back a few times, and then motioned for the medical team. This time when they stepped up and drew her away, she didn’t resist.
After that encounter, Lincoln made it his first priority to find the pilot that had brought them in, to meet him face to face, shake his hand, and express his overwhelming gratitude. He managed to find him and his weapons officer just as they were climbing down out of the cockpit of the gunship.
“Hey Havoc,” Lincoln said, extending his hand. “Lincoln Suh. Growler Lead. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”
“Hey Lincoln. Letter of recommendation might be nice,” the pilot said. “Will Barton. This is my brother Noah.”
“Brothers, huh?” Lincoln said, shaking Noah’s hand. “I didn’t know they let family serve together.”
“Normally they don’t,” Noah answered. “But our ratings have been so high together, they had a hard time refusing the request.”
“That might have been our last run anyway, though,” Will said. “I don’t think Command was too thrilled with our little detour there.”
“Hey, if there’s anything I can do for you, you let me know,” Lincoln said. “If I have to fight somebody for you, I will. Guns, knives, whatever.”
“Well, I don’t know what kind of pull you have,” Will said, “but I we could probably use some help from on high when our CO gets hold of us.”
