Both guards had stepped forward as if to restrain her, but Gabe stopped them with a small gesture. He studied Nakani, half curious and half amused. “I did come in a little fast, but I didn’t have much choice. You know how it is.” It dawned on him that he’d never actually spoken with one of the former mercenaries. Just as quickly, he remembered that only a week or two ago, this woman had probably been doing her best to kill him.
That realization went to war with his more friendly side as she smiled. “Yeah, I do. Sometimes you just have to do the best with what you’re dealt.”
Before Gabe could reply, Nakani gestured to the waiting rigs. “I’ll have your CTR over to the repair ship within the hour. Don’t worry, I won’t lose any of the pieces.” She looked at the severed stumps of the CTR’s legs and sighed. “At least, any more of the pieces. I’ll see you around, Captain.”
“Okay.” Still somewhat off balance, Gabe watched the mercenary walk away, escorted by the security forces. She seemed utterly and completely unaware of their presence, to the point where she looked surprised when one of them moved to block her path. Gabe shook his head.
Derek had moved over to stand beside him. There was a hopeful look on his face. “So, uh, do you think that I—”
Gabe grinned. “Not a chance, Derek.”
The other rig pilot glared. “Oh come on. Why not?”
“Because you’d never have a chance, that’s why.” His friend grunted sourly, and Gabe laughed. He flung an arm around Derek’s shoulder and used the gesture to support some of his weight. “Now let’s see about getting me to the nearest cafeteria. If I’m going to be grounded on the carrier for the next little while, I might as well enjoy the food while I’m at it.”
Susan had just opened the door to her quarters—the prelude to taking a well-earned rest from her duties—when her communications link beeped. She sighed, wondering if she could justify ignoring it. Then her sense of duty won out, and Susan answered the call. Perhaps it would just be a brief interruption. “Admiral Delacourt.”
“Admiral, this is Chief Kowalski from the Engineering staff.”
The introduction was so far not realizing her hopes. “And what can I do for you at the moment, Chief?”
A note of embarrassment colored the engineer’s response. “I’m sorry to bother you, Admiral, but you had a priority alert set up if anyone found any information regarding a specific area of the ship. Section Beta, Frame Five-Thirty?”
The engineer’s prompting brought Susan’s head up. She recognized the location; it was the section of the ship she had been investigating. “Yes, Chief, I did. Have we found out anything else about that area, or are you simply acknowledging the order?”
“Neither, ma’am. Even better than that.” Kowalski’s voice had now filled with that peculiar kind of eagerness that engineers experience when presented with a puzzle. “Are you near a secure console, Admiral?”
“One moment.” Susan entered her quarters and activated the console to one side of the doorway. As the computer linked up to the rest of the ship’s information network, she nodded. “What should I be looking for, Chief Kowalski?”
“Bring up a schematic of the section, Admiral. Not the official one, mind you, but the one on the unofficial subnet. I’m already logged in and able to modify it on the fly, so I’ll be able to show you what I’m talking about.” He continued to speak as she searched for the file. “You see, when we took that last set of hits in the fight, it shook something loose in the section and we’ve had to come down here to work on it. That, and Commander Mesic has been asking us to look at the structural integrity of the ship, and some of the critical parts of the superstructure run through that area.”
Susan nodded. The file appeared on her screen, with the structural supports highlighted. “I can see that, Chief, but I don’t understand why …” She blinked, and leaned forward. “Chief, am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“I believe you are, Admiral.” Kowalski magnified a particular area of the section on his screen, pulling up more details as he did so. “The structural elements running through this section are spaced in a way to support a combat nest of some kind.”
She frowned. “Combat nest?”
Kowalski cleared his throat. “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t know the Directorate’s term for it. That’s what we call areas like Auxiliary Damage Control stations, infirmaries, or other areas of the ship that need to be shielded from damage during combat or isolated successfully from the rest of the ship in the event of major systems failures. They are typically crucial to some aspect of the combat, command, or repair systems.”
“Of course, Chief Kowalski.” Susan smiled. “And for future reference, the Directorate term for that particular type of area is an FC-IZ, if it comes up again.”
The chief on the other end of the line paused. “I … see, ma’am. In any case, there seems to be one of them built here, but the schematics and other information we have available don’t list it anywhere. There aren’t any critical systems pathways that pass through the section, and we haven’t found much to suggest that it’s some kind of abandoned medical area either.”
“Interesting.” Some of her fatigue began to fade as she considered the problem. “Have you traced the power feeds to the section? Perhaps by locating the source of the power …”
“I’m afraid we have, ma’am.” Kowalski’s voice became a bit more frustrated. “The power coming through the local stations isn’t anything more than a background level, so whatever is in there is either inactive or just doesn’t need a lot of energy to work. The other possibility is that it has an independent power supply, though I don’t think that’s likely.”
Susan frowned. “I imagine not, Chief.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Are there any corridors that lead into the center of the area? Whatever purpose these modifications might have, they could be explained there.”
“I suppose that is possible, ma’am.” The engineer shifted the view of the display to focus on a few other areas before he spoke again. “I think you might have more success along this corridor, ma’am. From what we can tell, a lot of the basic energy supply comes through here, and there would have needed to be regular access for personnel up to a certain point if this area was ever consistently used.” Kowalski chuckled. “The fact that we’ve been reading a lot of damage reports from that area means it may have cleared any obstructions for you as well. Apparently some of the objects were loose in that part of the section, and there was a lot of shaking during those attacks.”
She studied the corridor. It was the same one that Elder Miller had persuaded her to avoid and it remained an indistinct line on the schematic, showing that it hadn’t been explored or officially mapped yet. Despite the many other concerns demanding her attention, she immediately felt the urge to fill in that line herself. If the makers of the Concord had taken such great pains not only to conceal, but also fortify the mysterious area, odds were that it was indeed more than a simple storage closet in a forgotten corner.
Perhaps the engineer had anticipated that reaction. Kowalski’s next words were full of caution. “Admiral, I would recommend that you wait until our work teams have cleared that corridor before you go down it. There may be a lot of debris or damaged systems that would need to be repaired before the area is safe—especially for command personnel.”
Susan grinned a little, glad that the engineer couldn’t see the expression. She supposed that what the chief didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Of course, Chief. Please let me know the moment the area is clear.” By then, she planned to already have the entire corridor mapped out, but it would be nice to know when the engineers got to the area, if only so she could explore without running into work crews.
Oblivious to the undertones, the chief seemed to accept her statement at face value. “That’s good. We’ll get over to that section just as soon as we’ve locked down the other problems caused by the attack. We may need to delay it until we’ve refitted the outer armor
and everything, though.”
“I understand perfectly, Chief. Don’t let me keep you from your duty.” As the engineer signed off and ended the call, she flipped through the schematic on her console a little while longer, planning the route she would take to explore the area. She had no intention of diverting work crews from their more critical tasks repairing battle damage, and there was no way she would wait to satiate her curiosity until then. With such rationalizations in hand, it was much easier to enjoy the distraction—and she might as well enjoy herself. After all, it wasn’t as if the rest of her situation was all that pleasant.
Her thoughts brought the reality of her circumstances back to her mind, with the myriad troubles her command now faced. Susan studied the schematic a moment longer, and then sighed. She switched the console off with a firm twist of her hand. It was a nice fantasy to play out in her head, but in reality, things were different. As admiral, she had responsibilities, especially now. There was no way that an officer in charge of a fleet—especially one in such dire circumstances—would ever have an opportunity to waste time on idle exploration. The very fact that she’d considered it in the first place meant that she was too tired to make proper decisions—and that more of Gabriel had rubbed off on her than she would ever like to admit.
Still shaking her head, Susan stood and headed for her bed. Maybe by the time duty dragged her back to work once more, things would have changed for the better.
Chapter Seven
Gabe stepped through the hatch and into one of the conference rooms of the Concord, free of his father’s cane and ready to face the world on his own two feet again. He stretched a bit and sighed at the pleasure of not feeling a twinge of pain with every movement.
Across the room, he saw Susan in a close conversation with an assortment of officers, likely trying to find a way to prepare for the coming attack. Gabe could sympathize. The pilots who had faced the WGCs during the battle had fought well, but the story would have been very different if the Directorate had come in larger numbers—or worse, if there had been SSS rigs among the first waves. No matter how good Gabe’s pilots were, he doubted any of them would be able to down a triple S without some help from the Lord Himself.
Delacourt looked up as Gabe approached, and Gabe could see concern in her eyes. She motioned for him to join the officers at the table. “Captain Miller, are you recovering well?”
He nodded, careful to keep his response appropriately formal. “I am, Admiral. I thought I would brief you on our progress with the rigs.”
She gestured for him to continue, and Gabe did so once he had taken his seat with the others. “We lost five pilots in the last engagement, though it could have been much worse.”
Captain Ndigwe, still in command of the Deliverance, leaned back in her seat. “Worse, Captain?”
“Yes, sir.” Gabe made a face. “During the engagement, we were lucky to only face WGCs. The Directorate has access to much more dangerous equipment. If they’d come for us with triple S models, I don’t know how many of us would have made it home.”
Susan nodded, her expression solemn. “I understand that quite a few rigs were damaged as well, Captain Miller.”
“Half a dozen rigs made it out of the battle with minor hits—or even more severe damage, like mine—but we should have all of them operational by the time the enemy comes after us again.” Gabe shrugged. “That said, I think we should probably do our best to avoid any further skirmishes with them if we can. There’s a limit to how much damage we can repair—and how many rigs we can replace.”
Captain Veringer of the Harvest spoke up. “How soon are we expecting the enemy to arrive? I was surprised that they didn’t cascade into the system right after us.”
Ndigwe was the one who answered. “Resonance drives aren’t quite as agile as that, Captain.” At a gesture from Susan, she continued. “A drive can normally only perform a cascade once every couple of days, and that doesn’t even take into account the difficulties of locating and matching another ship’s burst signature.”
Susan nodded. “That’s correct. The enemy might have a drive more effective than ours, but they will still need to analyze the signatures we’ve left behind. I have no doubt that they will follow once they have done so, but at the very least, the delay might buy us enough time to regroup.”
Veringer tapped the table with one finger. “A quick escape from this system is out of the question, then?”
Susan folded her arms across her chest. “That is correct, Captain. The Concord is equipped with a drive that is comparatively efficient, but it requires a substantial amount of cooldown and recovery time between cascades. It will likely be another four days before we can make the transit to the next system.”
Captain Pa grunted. He looked sour at the moment, but the man in charge of their repair facilities on the Foundry could hardly be expected to be cheerful. “So we should be anticipating another engagement, then. And perhaps another after that even if we escape.”
The other officers shifted in their seats, but Captain Sherman of the Redemption broke in before they could grow too discouraged. “I don’t think it should be as bad as that. They aren’t going to jump in right on top of us, and if we manage to hide well enough from them, we might avoid battle completely.”
Susan gave her a grateful look. “That is true. In fact, our ability to avoid the enemy will be our primary advantage in the upcoming battles. Since the exit point for the enemy fleet is relatively uncertain, it will be quite possible for us to avoid contact as long as we don’t stumble directly into their arms.”
Pa’s frown deepened. “Might I ask what we will do to avoid their scouts? It is all well and good to hide from the enemy, but if their rigs do manage to locate us and their fleet takes us by surprise, our previous casualties would be light by comparison to what we will suffer.”
Gabe answered, knowing that this question was within his realm of expertise. “Our own patrols will be adjusted to watch for that situation, Captain. In the last system, we were more worried about finding out if possible opponents had entered the system. Now that we know what we’re dealing with, we can plan our approach and tactics better.”
He glanced at Susan, and she smiled. Gabe took that as encouragement to continue, and tapped in a command for the display in front of his seat. The hazy, indistinct images of the Directorate fleet sprang up between the gathering of officers, and he started to demonstrate how the Wayfarer rigs could respond. “This time, instead of merely scouting the area around the enemy’s entry point, we can send in rigs ready for combat since we know that anyone coming after us is hostile. While the RSRs patrol the general area and give us warning about any incoming threats, CTRs will escort them and engage the enemy scout units. That should keep them from trailing our patrols back to our fleet, and gives us a chance to drive off the WGCs before they gather any information on us.”
Ndigwe tilted her head to one side, studying the images intently. “And if the Directorate loses some of their scouts to our CTR patrols, that means they may refit their scouts to carry more combat equipment. That would curtail their ability to deploy specialized scouting forces and delay the detection of our ships.”
Captain Pa nodded, his expression far less surly. “Perhaps. At least this plan would use our resources well. By mixing RSRs in with flights of CTRs, we can provide a decent level of sensor coverage while not overtaxing our small number of scouting rigs.”
Commander Mesic, who had been silent throughout the discussion, now spoke. “Admiral Delacourt, sir, I agree with your decision to avoid combat if possible, but I do feel the need to ask. What will happen if evasion becomes impossible? If the Directorate launches another assault, how do you intend to respond?”
The question froze Gabe’s breath in his chest. He looked at Susan, worried that she would take the question the wrong way, or that it would reveal her inner doubts about the conflict. The last thing they needed right now was a leader with divided loyalties, and the next worst
thing would have been to have the officers of the Defense Forces begin to doubt Susan’s leadership. Yet Susan simply returned Mesic’s stare. “We will do what is necessary to survive, Commander Mesic. We have no other choice. There are too many people—innocent people—who depend on us.”
Mesic shifted uneasily in his seat, but he held his peace. Susan watched him for a moment more, and then looked around the table. Gabe felt the steel in her gaze as she studied each of them in turn. Then she tapped the controls for the display, replacing Gabe’s patrol patterns with the indistinct scans of the enemy fleet. “Let me be clear. Our best option at this point is to avoid conflict. The enemy has nearly twice the number of cruisers we have, and their crews are battle hardened. They do not have to worry about protecting a convoy of civilians, while we do in order to prevent a massacre. They also have modern escort craft, a much larger number of combat rigs, and the firepower their flagship could bring to bear. In a direct engagement, we would very likely be cut to shreds.
“All the same, we do have one advantage that their task force does not enjoy. Time.” A murmur of confusion ran through the officers, but she continued before they could raise their voices. “Unlike these ships, we have no need to return to the Known Worlds. We have no other responsibilities, and we carry enough supplies for a long journey. They are working on a time limit, one that will grow tighter the further away we go from the Known Worlds. As their supplies run low and that distance increases, they will have to consider their need to return to their normal duties rather than following us out into the unknown.”
“So our plan is to run, then.” The tone of Captain Exeter’s words set Gabe’s teeth on edge, but Susan merely returned the officer’s gaze with complete calm.
Broken Halo (Wayfarers) Page 10
