Pathogen Protocol (Anghazi Book 2)

by Darren Beyer

  “Wait.” Mandi raised her hand, mimicking Nassir’s earlier gesture. “Let’s solve one thing at a time.”

  Nassir glared, then motioned for her to continue.

  “Assuming your ship still has power, couldn’t we create a data link and pipe the sensor feed here? Then I could use its sensors to detect the enemy ship.”

  “Not possible.”

  “You can’t remote into it?”

  “Normally, yes, but the hardware we procured was new—totally separate from the ship’s systems—and those systems include the communications array. Even if the bridge has power, contacting the ship will still do no good without someone to patch the two systems together. And I’m afraid I don’t know anyone who can get up there to do that right now.”

  For long seconds, Mandi stared blankly at the wall.

  “I do.”

  Although it was less cluttered than the research area, the control room showed no less decay. The ceiling had several holes, over which large plastic sheets had been draped like sails. Chunks of the ceiling had congregated in the middle of most of these after crumbling away at some point in the not-so-distant past. Beneath the crumbling ceiling, the center held a hodgepodge of ancient consoles, old-style computer monitors, and a few newer holo screens. On one wall, five mounted screens of varying sizes displayed video feeds. One focused on the lifeboat, another on its surrounding terrain. A third showed a dummy in a pressure suit strapped into one of the seats inside the capsule. The remaining two depicted scenes that belonged more in the Cold War era than the interstellar one. Each looked upward along a cylinder of aluminum inside a silo with what appeared to be clamshell doors at the top.

  The young man who’d been assisting them looked up from his workstation to Nassir. “I have established a link with the ship’s communications system.”

  Nassir nodded to Mandi, who walked up behind the man.

  “It’s ready,” he said. “Just speak when you want to begin.”

  Mandi leaned over his shoulder. “Hello.”

  “Welcome, Mandi Rosen.”

  The static of the background noise of space projected through the control room’s speakers. A tingle ran up Mandi’s back as she realized it was from the bridge of the same ship she’d narrowly escaped. It confirmed what she’d already concluded: Yosef had not survived.

  “It’s impressive,” Nassir said, though his voice carried little emotion, and it was clear his mind was elsewhere. “I should have known it could be done.”

  “Well, for OLIVER to interact by voice, he just needed to be patched into the communication system,” said Mandi.

  “I’m talking about listening to sensor signals.” He looked at Mandi. “You are sure you can detect the ship?”

  “If your plan will draw them out…” Mandi let out a deep sigh. “Then yes, I will pick them up.”

  Nassir looked her directly in the eye. “I know this is difficult for you. There is no other way, and it is not you who put Jans in his current situation.”

  “I know, but I’m the one pulling the trigger—and I’ll be the one who tells my mother, Grae… Sophia.”

  Nassir knelt in front of her. “Mandisa… I’ve known Jans a long time. I was with him at the very beginning. When we found the Anghazi, we all knew how important it was to keep it out of the hands of people like Gregory Andrews. Though we differed on approach, we both would give our lives to keep that from happening. It is not you who is ‘pulling the trigger,’ it is Andrews. And it is a bullet Jans would gladly take if it means keeping the Anghazi safe.”

  Mandi nodded solemnly.

  “Then I think we are ready.” Nassir stood.

  The communications operator lowered the volume of the sensor feed and vacated his console to allow Mandi to slide in. She looked to Nassir one last time, and he gave her a reassuring nod.

  Mandi took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and blew it past puffed cheeks. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is lifeboat one one seven nine alpha. I have crash-landed on the surface of the planet and require immediate assistance. Air in the capsule is running low. All systems down. Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is lifeboat one one seven nine alpha…”

  Mandi continued repeating some version of the same message for more than an hour before Nassir turned to the woman who operated the communication controls in the makeshift command center.

  “Gradually reduce the capsule’s transmission strength.” He gestured for Mandi to continue. “Once more.”

  “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is lifeboat one one seven nine alpha. I have crash-landed on the planet and require assistance.”

  Nassir placed a hand on Mandi’s shoulder. “You deserve an Oscar. I was convinced.”

  “What now?”

  “Now we wait. You transmitted for long enough that if they are in an orbit lower than about two hundred kilometers, they will have had line of sight. And if they are looking, they will have picked up the transmission.”

  “What if they don’t do anything?”

  “Either they’re here, or they aren’t. If they are, then they’re looking for you. The question is, do they want to capture—or kill? If they want to capture, can they even get down to the surface? We shouldn’t have to wait long to find out.”

  Nassir was right. Less than thirty minutes later, the technician’s voice broke the quiet tension.

  “I have a heat source high in the atmosphere. Temperature three five zero Kelvin and climbing. Altitude, fifty-three thousand meters and descending. It is following a standard orbital reentry path.”

  Nassir rushed to the young man’s station. “Mass signature?”

  “Density and characteristics are consistent with orbitally deployed guided munitions.”

  Nassir looked over at Mandi. “That is technical speak for a bomb. It appears they do not care to capture you.”

  Mandi swallowed.

  “Calculate its pre-entry orbit,” Nassir instructed the technician.

  The young man hastily worked through the necessary steps. “I have the profile. Apoapsis and periapsis are equal. It’s a circular orbit, altitude one hundred seventy-three kilometers, fifteen point one three degrees off equatorial plane.”

  “It’s nearly the same orbit as the transport.” A visceral grin grew on Nassir’s lips. “They’ve barely moved—they don’t know we’re here.” He clapped his hand on the technician’s shoulder. “Load the profile into missile one, and prepare to fire.”

  The technician worked his screen. “Missile one is loaded and ready to fire.”

  “Fire one.”

  “Fire one,” the technician repeated. “Missile one launch sequence start.”

  Mandi looked to the wall screens. One showing a silo became washed in white, then its topside clamshell doors slid open, and billowing smoke filled the silo.

  “Missile one is away.”

  A loud boom shook the building, and everyone in the control room looked up. The plastic sheets above rustled as they caught pieces of debris breaking loose from the ancient ceiling. A few people were forced to dodge some smaller pieces that rolled out of the sheeting.

  Mandi looked back at the screens. The one that had been pointed at the empty lifeboat now showed only a massive dust cloud rising from the spot where the capsule had been.

  “Missile one is four minutes to orbit,” said the technician. “Ready for active.”

  “Send the target position information to our ship.”

  Nassir nodded at Mandi, and she donned a headset and turned up the feed from OLIVER.

  “OLIVER, can you hear me? And please don’t say, ‘Welcome, Mandi Rosen.’”

  “I can hear you. Do you not like my greeting?”

  “Not now, OLIVER. Have you aligned the sensor array to match the orbital parameters we sent?”

  “The sensor array is aligned.”

  “Please feed the signal to me.”

  As she had done many times with Sophia during simulations, and live on both Dauntless and the stric
ken transport, Mandi closed her eyes and focused on listening to the low rumble of the sensors. She heard it immediately: the rumbling warble of a mass-dampened ship interrupting the purr of a hit on the mass sensors. Seconds later she heard it again, slightly changed, but clear to her trained ear.

  “OLIVER, do you detect the anomalies in the sensor signal?”

  “I am detecting no anomalies, only standard readings from debris.”

  Mandi sighed. “If I tell you immediately after I hear a debris signal, could you detect range and vector?”

  “Of course.”

  Mandi listened again, and again she heard the warble.

  “There.”

  “The most prominent return is from a three-hundred-milligram piece of debris in a nearly parallel orbit, point seven kilometers higher.”

  “Please send the position and orbital data of the debris.”

  After a moment, the technician looked up at Nassir. “I have the position data, and have relayed it to the missile.”

  Nassir nodded. “Engage the missile’s upper stage—intercept the location, set for proximity detonation. Load position data into missile two.”

  “Upper stage of missile one has fired. On intercept course. Missile two guidance is loaded.”

  “Fire when ready.”

  “Missile two launch sequence start.”

  Mandi could do nothing but watch the monitors as the second silo filled with smoke and flame.

  “Missile one is approaching target area.” The technician paused. “I have a heat signature! Consistent with high impulse ion drive! Missile one is locked on to the signature. Ten seconds to proximity detonation.”

  Mandi’s eyes locked onto Nassir, who returned the stare with a stony expression. The technician read the countdown aloud. “Five, four, three, two, one. Detonation.”

  “Miss Rosen. I have a return on mass sensors near the last known location of the debris. Mass is now fluctuating between two point seven kilograms and one thousand two hundred and ninety metric tons.”

  Mandi looked up at Nassir, whose gaze shifted between Mandi and the technician. For the minutes it took the second missile to reach orbit, silence hung heavy in the control room.

  “Missile two has reached orbit. Upper stage ready to fire, and onboard sensors are locked on target.”

  Mandi uttered no words, but her eyes pleaded with Nassir.

  “This is our only chance,” he said. He lowered his eyes. “If we had a ship here, we could assess the damage before taking action. But we don’t, and it will be too long in coming. We have to be sure.”

  “I know.” Mandi set her jaw, then turned from Nassir to the technician. “You know what you have to do. Intercept the target.”

  IV

  Chapter 49: Sol System, Near Sat urn

  The faces on the bridge of the Fushun glowed in rainbows of color shining from the holo screen control consoles. Normally, the eight crewmembers and the officer of the deck would be in constant communication about operation matters, mostly trivial. But tension had progressively increased onboard the flagship of the Pan Asian Alliance cruiser as it sailed closer and closer to the secret coordinates supplied by the Alliance’s intelligence service, so the bridge was now silent save for the hum of equipment and life support systems.

  “Sensor contact! Bearing one seven three mark one eight. Distance one point four miks. Type unknown.”

  “Sound general quarters,” replied the officer of the deck. “Captain to the bridge.”

  The ship’s automated voice called out across the intercom. “General quarters, general quarters. All personnel to assigned stations. Captain to the bridge.”

  One at a time, the bridge crew briefly left their stations to don form-fitting pressure suits.

  From around the ship, duty stations checked in and weapons systems came online. The bridge transformed into a beehive with the flurry of activity that accompanied the highest level of alert.

  The bridge’s hatch opened, and the captain pulled himself through. “Status,” the captain called out as he took the command chair.

  The officer of the deck snapped a response. “We have an unknown contact one point four miks in range following a similar trajectory to our fleet.”

  “New contact!” shouted the sensor operator. “Same bearing, distance, and trajectory. Now two—no, now four new contacts. Now eight—ten! Negative identification.”

  The captain scowled. “I seem to remember the briefing indicating we would meet minimal resistance.”

  “Positive identification on first contact.” The sensor operator’s voice was tense. “Frigate, Eastern Bloc. Krivak class.”

  “And,” the captain shook his head, “the briefing made no mention that an Eastern Bloc fleet would be joining us. Communications, please inform fleet that we have guests.”

  Chapter 50: Iota Ceti System

  Mandi lost herself in the beauty of the alien planet. Reddish clouds and unfamiliar landmasses drifted. Mandi moved closer, entranced, and bumped her helmet’s faceplate against the launch capsule’s viewport. Embarrassed, she pulled back and glanced toward Nassir and the five of his people who had joined them to board the stricken freighter. None had noticed.

  “I have sensor contact,” said the young sensor operator. “Parameters match those of an Alsing-class freighter.”

  “That would be our ship.” Nassir’s voice was sharp, focused. “Position?”

  “Range, sixty-three kilometers. Orbital altitude is four hundred ninety-seven kilometers. Velocity seven point six eight kilometers per second. Our altitude is one hundred twenty kilometers, delta-v is point one six kilometers per second. We should be underneath it in about seven minutes.”

  No one spoke as the launch capsule sped along in low orbit, gliding beneath the higher orbiting freighter. The computer chose the precise moment to fire the main thrusters to gain speed and altitude.

  “I’ve got a clean visual.”

  At the pilot’s voice, all eyes went to the main screen, where a surprisingly intact ship greeted them. Its conical bridge faced them at an oblique angle, allowing an unfettered view down one of its eight sides of cargo pods. The main engines were not immediately visible.

  “It’s not spinning,” Mandi said.

  “It looks like they stabilized it. They wanted intel.” Nassir’s voice was flat. “It’s why they stayed close by.”

  Silence returned as the computer rotated the capsule and again fired the main thrusters to bring it into an intercept course with the freighter. With a few more burns, it maneuvered to the docking hatch. It drew close until a jolt signaled they had docked.

  “Let’s go.” Nassir unbuckled his seat harness, floated toward the forward docking hatch, and checked the display. “Zero atmosphere. The Catarro is still unpressurized. We need to match. Prepare for depressurization.”

  When the interior of the launch capsule had reached vacuum, Nassir turned a wheel on the pressure hatch and pulled it inward—revealing the outside of the corresponding hatch on the Catarro. He punched in a code on a keypad, spun the locking wheel, and pushed the opposite hatch into the other ship.

  Met only by the dull, red glow of interior emergency lights, Nassir paused, looking up and down the ship’s central shaft. When he was satisfied it was safe, he waved the others in. Though she wasn’t eager to see this particular ship again, Mandi was the first to follow.

  Nassir was already looking at the spot where their enemies had blasted their way onboard. The hole was now covered, sealed by a plasteel plate and rigiplast compound.

  “They were efficient bastards, I’ll give them that.” He turned toward Mandi as the others joined her. “Let’s see how good a job they did.”

  His eyes shifted to something behind Mandi. Turning with the others, she saw bloodstains down the shaft. At least Yosef’s body had been removed. Mandi shuddered at the thought of the pilot being sucked out into space.

  “Enough.” Nassir’s commanding voice carried across the comm channel.
“We have work to do. Let’s do a pressure check and get situated. I’ll look into the main engines.”

  Mandi followed him down the shaft toward the engineering section. At the open hatch of her cell, she couldn’t help but stop and peek inside.

  Nassir turned back to face her. “Is that where you stayed?”

  Mandi nodded.

  “If you like, you can take it.”

  “Why would I want to stay in a cell again?”

  “Cell?” A smile came to Nassir’s lips, and he chuckled as he again moved aft. “My dear, that is a berth—and probably one of the better ones.”

  Mandi gave the berth one more look, wrinkled her nose, then followed to the aft end of the ship. Nassir braced himself, then forced open the hatch to the engineering section and entered. Mandi paused at the threshold. It was cramped inside, nothing like Dauntless.

  Nassir moved to a control panel along the right side and tapped it a few times.

  “Power cell one is done.” He moved past a cylinder in the center of the compartment to a similar panel on the left side. “So is cell two.”

  He spun and moved to a bank of fire-blackened panels. After studying them for a few seconds, he turned to an auxiliary panel and tapped on its dimly illuminated surface.

  “The circuits are destroyed on engines one, two, and four.”

  He keyed his comm. “Bridge, how are the reaction control thrusters?”

  “We have no power here. All systems are offline. Can you get one of the cells online?”

  “They overloaded during the attack. At a minimum they need new control boards. Until then, I don’t even know if they’ll work.” He floated to the compartment’s central cylinder. “I’ll see if I can get you your power.”