by PJ Strebor
“This has been fun,” Nathan said, “but it's time to go.”
Dearkov checked her next killing swing.
“Meta, the doors?” Nathan asked.
“Done,” she said, then added, “I think.”
“Moe?”
“Ready to go when you are.”
“Very well. Get back to the LCC and stand by.”
Meta took the stairs two at a time, the pain from each step making her shoulder scream. She stood by the clear composite screen for nearly a minute before Nathan led the children into the boat bay. A modern-day Pied Piper. Nathan urged them not to dally and to disregard their obvious fascination for the old wreck of a LB. As the last little body filed into their escape vessel, Nathan held up his left thumb.
Meta activated the force field and hit what she hoped were the appropriate controls. While the hangar doors rumbled noisily apart she bolted down the stairs and dashed for the boat. By now the enemy bridge would have to be aware of their presence. Ozzie closed and secured the hatch after Meta jumped aboard. Together they secured the kids into the seats. Now all they had to do was escape.
***
Nathan dropped his helmet onto the deck and slipped into the left-hand seat of the LB. Through the view-plate, he saw the huge hangar doors struggle open.
Moe had done a fine job of prepping the boat and succeeded in doing so without alerting the enemy. He scanned the controls isolating the more-vital instruments.
Moe finished pressurizing the boat and began the engine start-up sequence. “Strike any trouble out there?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” he said absently.
“Hangar doors are fully opened.” Moe glanced over her shoulder into the boat’s cabin. “Our passengers are secured.”
“Very well.”
Nathan tightened his harness. If Picaroon maintained her frantic speed, their escape would not be a comfortable one.
“Reactor active,” Moe said. “Full power is at your command.”
“Very well.”
Nathan diverted the maximum-allowable power supplement to the landing gear constrictors, overrode the safeties and pushed both throttles fully forward. Almost immediately the boat began to vibrate as the power built steadily toward the red marker. The hangar area quickly transformed into a maelstrom of blazing plasma. He kept the boat locked in place as the power indicator approached the red line. The hangar doors started to close.
“Ah, Nathan.” Moe pointed to the slowly closing doors.
“I see it.” The engine power indicator hit the red line. Nathan cut power to the skids. The landing boat leapt forward, streaked from the bay and into open space.
“Clear,” he said, surprised by the relief in his voice.
A few moments later the expected buffeting struck the small boat.
The impact tossed the landing boat around like a balloon in a windstorm. Nathan needed a full minute to fight the unruly craft under control. He left the throttles fully open and set a course away from Picaroon.
“How does she handle?” Moe asked.
“It's like strapping a saddle on a big old boar. Get on the sensors and locate Truculent.”
“Roger that.”
If Truculent were not within range of their sensors this could be a very short-lived escape. By now Picaroon would be aware of their getaway. It would undoubtedly annoy whoever had taken command from Captain Foss.
As with the rest of the boat, the sensor array had seen better days but it clearly showed three icons. A green one astern of them, their own green icon and a red one off to starboard.
“I have Truculent, twelve degrees to starboard. She's maintaining a static position.”
“I’m so pleased,” Nathan said. “How long?”
Moe squinted as she made a quick mental calculation rather than relying on the crude headhunter computer. “If we maintain current speed and alter heading by twelve degrees to starboard we should rendezvous with Truculent in approximately nine minutes.”
“If this heap has anything resembling shields it might be prudent to initiate them, don't you think?”
“I certainly do, Stanley.” In short order Moe identified the controls and activated the shields. For a landing boat the shields were pretty good.
“How long before they catch us?”
“Did I hear right before we left the boat? The skipper took out the headhunter's weapons array. Right?”
“I forget.”
“You know, Nate, there are times when your sense of humor is totally inappropriate. Haven't I taught you anything over the years?”
“Lighten up, Ollie,” Nathan said. “They don't need weapons to capture us. If they catch us they will simply tractor us aboard.”
“And this doesn’t concern you?"
“If they capture us I’ll wait until we are inside the boat bay then blow the reactor.”
“Well, I'm glad you've thought this through.”
“But it might not come to that. Picaroon’s engines are damaged – as slow as this bucket of bolts is we might outrun her. Of course I would know for certain if you gave me a time to intercept as I asked you to.” He distorted his face into a rendition of Stan Laurel.
Moe leaned over her sensor readouts. “Some people can’t handle stress situations.”
CHAPTER 64
With little else to occupy his time Orson glanced around the bridge. Picaroon’s tactical officer yawned and stretched. His eyes passed lazily across his bank of screens and widened.
“Captain, I’m detecting some strange readings from the boat bay,” he said.
“Strange? How so?” Weiss asked.
“I’m detecting ignition from a landing boat engine.”
“A landing boat?”
“Boat bay doors are open.”
“Override and close them.”
“I'm trying, captain,” the T-O said, while he frantically struggled with the controls. “Doors closing, captain.”
“Good,” Weiss said. “Send guards down to – ”
“They're gone!” the T-O said.
“What?” Weiss screamed.
“The landing boat got out before the doors closed.” The T-O's face sagged with astonishment. “I've never seen anything like that. The pilot must be a madman.”
“Who would be using a landing boat?”
“It has to be the Franc prisoners,” Orson said.
“So a bunch of children stole one of our boats?” Weiss sniggered petulantly.
Orson bit down a curse. “There must be Athenians aboard the LB.”
“Impossible,” Weiss said.
“It doesn't matter,” Orson said, “now that we’re across the frontier.”
For a few moments Weiss' stood in silence as if he were actually thinking about something.
“Guards stand ready,” he said. They gathered at the main bridge hatch, rifles at their shoulders. Weiss checked the manual lock. “Saxon, drop the EDF. Tactical, scan the ship. I want to know if our prisoners are still in the captain’s … my cabin.”
Orson dutifully disengaged the EDF.
“I've swept the ship, captain,” the T-O said. “There are no enemy combatants aboard.”
“And the children?”
“They’re not on the ship.”
“Scan the landing boat.”
“She's out of range.”
“Helm, hard about,” Weiss shouted. “Plot an intercept course with the landing boat.”
After a few seconds of stunned silence the helmsman said, "But that will take us back under the monitor's guns."
“He's right, captain,” the T-O confirmed.
Weiss drew his pistol and aimed it at the helmsman’s head. "Carry out your orders or I will relieve you of duty, permanently.”
“Aye-aye, captain,” the sullen helm said. “Coming hard about now.”
“This is madness,” Orson said. “We are in Pruessen space. We have accomplis
hed our mission. The technology works. And you want to wander into a monitor's torpedo envelope for a handful of children. For God's sake let them go.”
“Shut your mouth, Saxon,” Weiss shouted. “I am captain of this ship. Do you have any idea how much those children are worth?” Sensing the potential danger he swung his sidearm to point at Orson’s stomach. “The Athenians won't fire on us. Not while they think we have civilians aboard.”
“That's enough.” Orson forced his rage under control although the urge to kill every useless headhunter on the bridge burned hot. “This mission is under the direct authority of IPN Intelligence. Under that authority I order you to come about and resume course to Virtus.”
“Your authority ended at the frontier. This is my ship now.”
“I'll see you hang for this, Weiss.”
“That's mutiny, lieutenant.” Weiss addressed the two largest bridge guards. “Throw this mutinous dog into the brig.”
“You want us to go out there, ah, captain?” one of the guards asked.
“Just do it,” Weiss screamed.
Too many guards on the bridge but it's a long way to the brig. Every muscle of Orson’s body flexed for action.
CHAPTER 65
“Captain, something's happening,” Hookes said.
Waugh strode across the bridge and hovered behind the tactical station. She knew better than to interrupt Hookes' concentration. The plot showed two red icons moving toward Truculent. Waugh tried to contain her hope.
Hookes' smile crept around the edges of her sensor hood. “I have two craft on an intercept course. A headhunter landing boat with,” a pause while she fine tuned, “Picaroon in pursuit.”
“How many people are aboard the landing boat?”
“I can't tell with her shields activated.”
“Damn.” Waugh had a fair suspicion who was aboard the craft.
The satisfied expression bled from Hookes' face. “Picaroon is rapidly closing on them. I estimate they will intercept the LB three minutes shy of the Rio Grande.”
Waugh stepped back to her command chair and sat heavily. A headhunter landing boat running from a headhunter warship. It had to be Telford and the civvies.
“Captain,” Luis said, “I have a transmission coming in. Putting it onto the command channel.”
“Truculent this is the Tackies.” Smiles spread throughout the bridge as everyone recognized the voice. “We are aboard a captured headhunter landing boat and we have the – ”
A squeal of static ended Telford’s report.
“Transmission blocked by Picaroon.”
“Damn,” she hissed.
“Captain,” O'Donnell said, “my navigation console just went down. I have no way of knowing where we are.” His eyes expressed a hope-felt plea.
“Captain,” Hookes said, "my navigation panel has gone down as well. We could be anywhere.”
“Captain,” Luis said, “a boat-wide corruption of the – ”
“That's enough, commander,” Waugh said quietly. Although sorely tempted to follow her crew's deception the price would be far too high. “Lois, time to interception?”
“A little over five minutes, captain,” Hookes said.
Waugh nodded slowly while considering her options. “This vessel cannot cross the Rio Grande. That is set in stone. But,” she said, “the rules don’t say anything about shooting across the frontier, do they?”
On a silent invitation from Luis she leaned across the console. “If you’re wrong,” Luis whispered, “and even one of the civvies is still aboard Picaroon, and you destroy her, there are people who will use that as an excuse to crucify you.”
“Telford said he had them aboard the landing boat.”
“His message is ambiguous.”
“Perhaps. But I believe he has them. I have larger concerns at the moment.”
“No IFF beacon on the landing boat?” Waugh nodded. Luis shrugged. “I suppose it’s time to prove your legendary status, isn't it?”
“Pulsar heads in tubes one and six thank you.”
“With the greatest pleasure, captain.”
Waugh strapped into the combat chair before tapping the stud under the right-hand armrest. The iris dilated and the chair dropped into the combat sphere. She initialized her menu from the holo projector and selected real time image. The sphere's panels shimmered for a moment before displaying an image of the space surrounding Truculent.
“SMC-captain. Tie in for combat operations.”
“Acknowledged, Commodore Waugh,” the Shipboard Management Computer replied.
“SMC magnification one hundred percent.”
The headhunter landing boat filled the front panels. “SMC reduce zoom to seventy-five percent and continue to adjust.” The LB shrank; the pursuing headhunter came into sight. Now things get tricky.
Her screen displayed tubes one and six loaded with pulsar heads. Because of the close proximity of the landing boat she could not risk anything more powerful. Even a clean kill could be problematic for the fragile landing boat. A Badger Class had a displacement of two hundred and fifty thousand tonnes. Picaroon’s destruction would send a wave of explosive debris against the LB’s fragile shields.
“Two minutes to intercept, captain,” Hookes reported.
“Very well.”
Come on middy. You've studied my tactics at the academy. You know what I want you to do. Perhaps he needs a wake-up call.
***
Nathan glanced at Moe. Her eyes were focused on her sensor readouts but her mouth hung open. “She's locked us up.”
“What!”
“Truculent’s locked her weapons onto us."
Nathan blinked, equally confused. For a terrifying moment he assumed Picaroon had restored her weapons. His mind roiled for a few seconds before understanding dawned.
“What's so bloody funny?” Moe asked.
“The captain’s sent us a message. I think.” He rubbed his right eyebrow. “How soon to intercept?”
“Eighty seconds.”
“Listen Moe, Truculent can't fire at Picaroon with us so close to her. Remember, we’ll show up as an enemy craft.”
“Yeah, no IFF. So what do we do?”
“I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“You're not going to like it.”
“So what's new?”
Nathan made his smile embody true evil.
“I'm really not going to like this am I?”
“No. But you get that.”
***
Weiss jumped as the officer's voice blared. “Captain, the landing boat is coming about.” Picaroon's tactical officer had a perplexed tone in his voice.
“Giving up at last,” Weiss said. “They can't outrun us and they can't call for help.” More importantly they could not reveal the secret keeping Picaroon's crew alive. “Weapons officer, confirm tractor readiness.”
“Confirmed, captain.”
“Captain, if they’re surrendering they're in a fucking big hurry to do so,” the tactical officer said. “Their speed has increased to flank.”
“Huh?”
“I think they're trying to ram us.”
“Bullshit. Weapons Officer, snag them as they pass and bring them aboard.”
“I'll try, captain, but at flank speed – ”
“Do whatever you have to,” Weiss screamed, “but get the fucking boat back in the bay.”
“Aye, captain.”
“Captain, we're now well inside the monitor's torpedo envelope.”
“Are we still maintaining the comm blackout?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Good. We have nothing to worry about.”
***
“They're getting awfully close don't you think?” Moe did not sound at all happy.
“Yep.”
“This isn’t a razorback boar you know?”
“Same principle.”
Through the forward view-plate Picaroon grew in size with alarming speed. Nathan maintained an unerring course toward the enemy vessel. He waited until the slow, steady beep of the collision alarm began, counted to five and acted.
He piloted the landing boat under the onrushing warship and slid down her starboard side. The proximity alarms wailed as he skimmed perilously close to Picaroon’s hull. Nathan steered the craft into a vicious turn to starboard pinning everyone to their chairs. A tractor beam lanced out but missed them.
Nathan pulled the throttles back to zero. “Now!”
Moe touched a single control key. The internal gravity went down and the craft plunged into darkness.
***
“They're gone!” the T-O cried.
“What!” Weiss screamed.
“I've lost the landing boat. She was on my screen then … nothing.”
Weiss rubbed his bearded chin.
“She's probably gone doggo,” the weapons officer suggested.
With no power emissions betraying her position it would take a little longer to retrieve her. A foolish gesture on their part.
“Helm bring us about. Take us to the landing boat's last known position.”
“Aye, captain.”
“I'm going to enjoy spending time with the pilot of that boat,” Weiss said between set teeth. “I will enjoy it greatly.”
***
“Pretty good flying for a grommit,” Luis said through her earpiece.
“Hmm.” Waugh’s attention had been on the landing boat but now it switched to Picaroon. She had assumed Telford would try something to separate himself from the enemy ship. His dicey maneuver had been quite spectacular. It reminded her that Telford, among other things, was a risk taker.
Right under Truculent’s looming weapons, Picaroon started to come about. The Badger class had a flaw she intended to exploit.
“Now, commander.”
The boat came to Alert Condition one while the captain counted down the seconds. “Come on you big brute. Just a little further.” Picaroon turned sluggishly, again something the class was renowned for. Waugh quickly calculated the running time for her torpedo. Three seconds from mid-turn Waugh fired. Torpedo one streaked toward the target. The pre-programmed attack pattern positioned at point-blank range before detonating. A narrow, silver beam of focused energy tore through Picaroon’s thin midships keel. It pierced the bulkheads and sliced through the reactor core’s thin shielding. The core breached. A microsecond later, Picaroon vanished from existence in a blinding flash of energy.
