by Britt Ringel
They have the advantage because they can shape the engagement however they want, he thought. If I try to get cute and slip by them to one side, there’s a real chance they’ll counter-maneuver on a bearing that puts them outside our laser firing arcs. He shook his head. It’s too big a gamble to take the risk that I guess the correct facing and direction in the hope that we can fight this battle without taking any return fire. After all Ana’s been through, it’s not right to leave this up to chance.
* * *
Lieutenant Vernay reached the containment field separating most of the officer quarters and the AIPS control room. The fields could resist any force exerting less than thirty-five pounds per square inch. She checked her shocksuit to ensure it was functioning properly and then pushed her way through the field. The inside of the AIPS room was unrecognizable to her. Vernay had been through this room thousands of times before but the landscape of the room had changed radically. Entire instrument panels had been ripped from their wall mountings and tossed about the compartment. The actual control station was missing entirely and wreckage littered the room to form an ad hoc obstacle course. The overhead bulkhead was crushed inward, down to the deck in many areas and cleaved in half, offering a spectacular view of space. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized that Brian Deveraux was in here at the time of calamity. She forced herself to hold her breath out of the fear that she was hyperventilating as she carefully made her way through the rubble, scared that around the next crumpled console or smashed panel she would see the horribly mangled form that had been her friend thirty minutes ago.
She was spared any such sight as she crawled under an enormous support frame and into Damage Control Station One. The smaller compartment was as heavily damaged as AIPS but more of the wreckage had exited Anelace through the large gouge in her hull. Vernay rose from her hands and knees to a crouch and duck-walked through the containment field at the portal between DC-One and the hallway leading to the turret control rooms. The hallway had partially collapsed as well but about a meter of clearance near the floor existed that allowed her to continue. Is it my imagination or is the hallway actually sloping up, she asked herself. After several minutes of hard work crawling through the collapsed hallway, she came to Starboard Turret-One. The door was clearly off its track and had been pried open. A containment field was operational and she saw movement through the opaque energy field. She took a deep breath to brace herself for the worst and pushed herself through the field.
To Vernay’s great relief, the tiny room, while damaged, was not destroyed. Most of the supporting structure of the room was intact and the turret controls were still where they should be. Most importantly, Vernay saw that Tyler Pruette, still strapped into his gunner’s chair, was alive and being attended to by Spaceman Gables. Vernay stood up and stepped the meter and a half to stand beside the others.
Pruette’s body had taken a severe beating but bore no obvious signs of a life-threatening injury. “What’s the word, Gabes?” she asked hopefully.
Gables was busy administering a splint to Pruette’s right leg. By the way she was holding it, Vernay was sure the leg had been broken. “Transverse fractures in the right tibia, fibula and femur,” she said as she finished fitting a red and white flexible splint over his lower leg and then folded the edges over each other. “Up higher, he’s got broken ribs, I think the third, fourth and fifth and the others around them are certainly bruised.” The patch was now fully around his leg and the edges had bonded to each other to form a tube. Gables then pressed a “stiff-stick” to the splint and the splint became rigid. She knocked lightly on the now sturdy splint as she turned toward Vernay. “His wrist has seen better days too but he still can articulate his fingers so that’s a good sign.”
Vernay looked at Pruette. “Tyler, I knew you’d find an excuse to stop attending our fitness program.”
The gunner’s mate second class turned his glassy eyes to Vernay. “Sorry, ma’am. I think we let one through.”
Vernay put her hand on his shoulder. “We’re still alive, Tyler, and the bad guys are dead.”
“Yes, ma’am, but there’s still some work to do.” Pruette was groggy but still aware of the third pirate ship.
Vernay nodded and looked at the turret control panel. The power was on but the computer seemed stuck in a diagnostics loop. She cleared the commands and then reordered a self-diagnostic. Even without catastrophic damage, the Lyle fire control systems could be a little balky. As she waited for the routine to run, she asked, “Denise, have you been down to S-Two yet?”
Gables was digging through her medical kit but answered, “Yes, ma’am. Thomas is alive but in as bad a shape as Gunner’s Mate Pruette. They’re both pretty messed up.”
“Hey, I’m right here…” Pruette objected groggily.
“Thomas is unconscious and I’d prefer to leave him that way until we’ve moved him to medical. He’s out of the fight anyway because both of his arms are badly broken,” Gables continued.
Vernay suppressed a smile. Both of them are still alive. Until now, she had suffered the irrational fear of standing before her captain trying to explain why she had allowed everyone under her to die while she had emerged completely unscathed. They’re in bad shape but both should pull through, she thought thankfully. At least I haven’t killed them all.
The computer beeped, signaling it had finished its diagnostics run. The fire control system had largely cleared itself during the self-diagnostics and Vernay quickly cleared the remaining two error codes. Starboard Turret-One was back in business.
“Which brings me to this, ma’am.” Gables held two different pressure injection applicators in her hand. “I can put Gunner’s Mate Pruette fully under or I can wake him up.”
“Hey, I’m up,” Pruette protested and with great effort, looked up at Vernay. “Why is she saying I’m not awake?”
Gables ignored the petty officer and continued, “He really should have some painkillers and be taken to medical. That’s the standard medical procedure with someone who’s as wrecked as he is.” Gables was a damage controlman with only the minimum emergency medical training required by all damage control ratings and it showed with her bedside manner.
Pruette choked out between pain-filled shallow breaths, “Again… sitting right here… less than a meter from you, Denise.”
“Or you can order Option B,” Gables spoke over Pruette as she lifted the second injector. “These stimulants will bring him fully around and should let him function for an hour or so. He’s going to be in a lot of pain though since I can’t give him a pain suppressant with the stimulant. What do I do, Lieutenant?”
“Give me the stimulant, Spaceman, I can manage,” Pruette insisted in between agonizing coughs.
Gables ignored him and looked directly into Vernay’s eyes. “In his current state, there’s a chance giving him stimulants will kill him. I’d recommend the painkillers unless we absolutely need him.”
Vernay looked between both of the enlisted crewmembers. She wanted to do the “right” thing and ease Pruette’s pain. Hasn’t he already contributed to the fight enough? However, she realized that if Thomas was out but his GP was functional, she would need Pruette operating his Lyle in the S-One position while she controlled S-Two. That’s not fair to Pruette, she thought. The man has given me everything he has and he deserves to rest. She hedged. “Denise, hand them both to me. I need to look at S-Two before I decide. I also need you to make your way to storage and bring back enough routing flexi-cable to run from S-Two to the bridge.”
“I’m on it, L-T,” Gables said as she placed both injectors into Vernay’s hand and quickly exited.
“Don’t listen to Gabes, Lieutenant,” Pruette asserted weakly, “it doesn’t hurt that bad and Ana needs every person we have right now.”
Vernay looked at Pruette, his face contorted in obvious pain, each breath a misery. I can’t ask this from him, it’s not fair. She lightly patted his shoulder. “Just rest right now, Tyler. I
’ll be back in a few.”
It took four minutes to squeeze through the eight meters of wreckage strewn between S-One and S-Two. Halfway to the second turret, she realized she was a lot further from the bridge than the two minutes Captain Heskan had ordered. I’m not sure I have a choice but to keep going… I have to find out if we can use the second GP. The damage worsened the closer she moved toward the bow and the upward slope of the hallway seemed to be increasing with each meter. She pushed her way through the containment field to find the second starboard turret room only moderately damaged. The duralloy cages around the turret positions conceived by the ship’s designers had saved both starboard gunners’ lives. Vernay looked at Thomas first even though she knew she was wasting time Anelace did not have. Peacefully sleeping in his shockseat, both his arms were in splints and his suit’s restriction band below his right knee had been activated.
Each shocksuit had restriction bands placed at strategic locations around the suit. In the event that the suit suffered a tear in an extremity while in a vacuum, the suit would automatically activate the appropriately located restriction band sealing off the rest of the suit from the breach. The bands could also serve the dual purpose of acting as tourniquets, if activated manually. In this case, it appeared the restriction’s function was only to keep Thomas’ suit habitable but not so tight as to cut off the blood flow to his lower right leg.
Vernay turned her attention to the control panel and was pleased to find it still had power. The entire console had been knocked off its mounts and the targeting system appeared to be frozen. She quickly cleared the existing commands and ordered it to run a diagnostic but the computer remained frozen. It’s time for the tried and true ultimate repair move: recycle power, she thought as she completely turned off each of the systems one by one. With the station powered down, she counted to ten and then reactivated the systems in reverse order. The console came back to life and the status display reflected just four error codes. Vernay fixed one of the codes easily but the other three each related to hardware damage suffered inside the console. The actual hardware that controlled the turret had been severed from the system during the missile hit. Not too surprising considering how close we are to where that missile struck. Vernay ran through her options. The actual GP laser was functional and the software in the S-Two room was working; however, the laser could not be controlled from this room because the physical control hardware was broken. Her own bridge controls would work but the connection between them and the turret had been cut somewhere in between. Okay, Stacy, think. I connect my hardware on the bridge to the software in this room and we have a functioning GP. Glad I asked Gables to get that flexi-cable. Vernay started opening the turret control panel to begin her work as she thought, this means Ana can have two functional GPs so long as she has two functional gunners. She bleakly considered what to do with Pruette. She did not have a choice. Hating herself was not a choice either.
* * *
Ten more precious minutes passed and Anelace and Ketch-One had closed to within 18ls from each other. We have about five minutes before the shooting starts, Heskan thought. I need my bridge officers back but if I pull them from their tasks, will we even be able to fight? Ultimately, Heskan was saved from the dilemma when the bridge door opened and Vernay came charging through with Selvaggio limping behind her. Both were carrying the heavy flexi-cable and spooling it out behind them as they worked their way to Vernay’s station.
“Captain, maneuverability has been restored as much as possible given our time constraints,” Selvaggio said as she dropped the thick cordage and hobbled to her station. “It’s much worse than I originally thought. The ship is bent all through her hull. Ana’s twists aren’t even all in the same direction. Her third frame looks like a ski jump and the sixth and seventh are twisted laterally.”
“So what do we have, Ensign?”
“Once we have some of the drives up, and if we’re careful, I can roll and turn the ship very slowly but at only about ten percent of her normal capacity,” Selvaggio answered apologetically while shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s better than nothing, Diane. Just keep us pointed right at Ketch-One. This fight isn’t going to be about subtlety anyway.” Heskan glanced at Lieutenant Vernay who was kneeling at her station. She had taken off the access panel and was halfway inside her control panel busily connecting the flexi-cable to the internals of her station. “Stacy, do you need a hand?”
“No, sir. It’s so cramped in here that a second person would just get in the way,” she replied. “Both turrets should be operational in a minute here—” The panel sparked and Heskan saw the lieutenant jump. “Ouch! Dammit.” Vernay then snickered and muttered to herself, “The sparks tell you it’s working.” She pushed herself out of the open panel and looked at her captain with a wry smile. “I guess that means the connection’s been restored.” She hopped up and checked her console.
Heskan furrowed his eyebrows. “Status, WEPS?”
Nodding, Vernay replied, “Both starboard turrets are operational. Gunner’s Mate Second Class Pruette has control of S-One. I have S-Two.”
“What’s Spaceman Thomas’ condition?” Heskan cringed slightly at the implication.
Vernay was quickly typing commands into her weapons console as she answered, “He’s alive, sir. He’s unconscious and with a lot of broken bones but alive.” Her console chirped an alarm at her and Vernay squashed a reset button with her index finger. “I hated to leave him in S-Two but Gables said he was safer in a shockseat than trying to get him down to the medical bay. By the way, Gabes went down to Engineering to see the chief.” Vernay stopped what she was doing to turn and face the captain. “Pruette is hurt badly too but insists he can perform his duties,” she said meekly but with a prideful look before returning to work.
Heskan looked at the tactical display; three minutes until they were within weapons range and still no propulsion. Thinking of his first officer, Heskan muttered under his breath, “Well, I hope Engineering is getting ready to get out and push if they can’t get our drives running.”
Ketch-One had not made any course changes over the last thirty minutes. She had, however, yawed toward Anelace to face her. They’ve been watching us, doing a detailed damage analysis and have probably decided it’s better to finish the job now than alter course and give us more time to repair.
“Ninety-seven seconds until GP weapons range,” Vernay said in a cool and determined manner. Any trace of emotion she had about her dead crew or the direness of the situation had evaporated. “Diane, we need to roll starboard thirty degrees or the GPs are going to be masked.”
Selvaggio tapped several commands into her navigation console desperately. “I know, Stacy, I know.” She spun around to face Heskan. “Captain, I can’t roll us until the drives are up and working with the inertial compensators. I need propulsion,” Selvaggio implored.
No sooner had Ensign Selvaggio finished her plea than the ship’s status display flashed to update two of her drives as functional.
Heskan looked thankfully up to the heavens and then back at his navigator. “Now ask for a million credits, Diane.”
Selvaggio smirked and said, “Sir, I can roll us now but it’s going to over-G.”
Heskan punched the 1-MC and announced, “All hands prepare for over-G.” He counted to ten before issuing the order to roll.
As Anelace rolled, Heskan was forcefully thrown into the left side of his shockseat. The g-forces tore at his body and he grunted with the effort to keep from passing out. He pried his eyes open and saw his bridge crew suffering the same fate. He felt his hands clawing at the arms of his chair as he tried to keep breathing.
After a few moments, Anelace mercifully settled into her new orientation and the stress disappeared. Heskan’s commlink chirped and Chief Brown’s voice came through. “Capt’n, I think Drive Six just ripped off Ana during that maneuver! Lieutenant Jackamore says she can’t take somethin’ that violent again an’ stay together an’
I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“Understood, Boats. Sit tight in Engineering and then give me a damage report after the action.” Heskan closed the link. Selvaggio turned to face him and Heskan could see her blushing furiously after hearing the conversation. She opened her mouth as if to apologize but Heskan cut her off. “Don’t worry about it, Diane, we had to get oriented. Just keep us straight and true now.” He tried to sound calm and reassuring but could only hope it came out that way.
Chapter 22
“Twenty seconds until laser range, Captain,” Vernay counted down. Heskan thought he heard her say “one more miracle” into her commlink to someone, probably Pruette. Her hands were unmoving except for the slight twitch on the thumbstick necessary to keep her target reticule over the center of the pirate ketch.
When the ships were 6ls apart, the pirate ketch went to full thrust on her engines. The sixteen-second burn slowed the ketch’s rearward momentum, dramatically increasing the closure rate of the combatants. The gunners in the pirate ship had been prepared for the maneuver; Vernay and Pruette had not.
Anelace bridged the last light-second to slip within the 5ls range and each ship spewed forth pulses of charged energy from their lasers. The pulse fire from both ships streaked across the distance between them at the speed of light while each ship’s gunners adjusted aim and loosed another barrage two seconds after the first. Both ships had finished firing their third bursts when the initial laser fire touched their targets.
Anelace no longer had a shield to protect her and the pirate captain had ordered his gunner to focus on the aft of the corvette. The bow, nothing but a mass of twisted wreckage, was not worth firing at. The ketch’s starboard laser burst hit Anelace four meters aft of her twelfth frame. Her duralloy armor flash boiled and the laser burned through the hull and into Engineering. The port laser’s pulse struck a few meters behind and above the first but was partially deflected by the angle of Anelace’s armor, which boiled but held. As the dripping armor froze, it formed a teardrop shape on Anelace’s starboard side.
