Breach the Hull

by Lawrence M. Schoen

  “The Glory will roll out of range in twenty seconds,” I said. “I’ll commence firing when the target returns to view.”

  I dropped Betty’s barrel as low as it would crank. The initial shots would have to fly directly across the hull, straight past Veronica. The debris field around the ship made me nervous.

  I flexed my fingers again. “Are we good?” I said to Michael.

  “The rockets have been reprogrammed, Sergeant. You are good to fire.” “Firing in fifteen, fourteen . . . ”

  The three castaways from the shuttle took up station behind us and joined into our tiny LAN. I gripped Betty’s control arm and grinned. The star came back into view. “Alpha Mike Foxtrot, Ladies and Gentlemen,” I said and fired. As promised, the rocket flared and immediately went dead, flying swiftly and quietly from the end of the barrel. “One away.”

  I calculated lead-times through the group-LAN and our cumulative cybernetic implants, compensating as the Glory’s roll grew slowly greater. I fired as fast as I could, adjusting Betty’s elevation. Her long barrel rose to ninety-degrees-high as the Glory turned, then began dropping again to port. Fifteen warheads leapt out and then we stood in silence. We had done all we could. The rim of the star passed from view and it was dark and cold.

  “How long?” Ensign Earl said.

  “They aren’t moving that fast because we didn’t light the rockets.”

  We rotated back into the harsh light. Both destroyers still sat below us, unaware and unreacting. I couldn’t see the warheads; their tiny silhouettes were lost in the glare. We began to rotate away again.

  “Strike near the bow,” someone shouted.

  I whooped when I saw the explosion and the gout of ejecta. I had aimed for her bridge, hoping to incapacitate her. We rotated away and I couldn’t see any more. “Captain to shuttle, light your engines now! Get away from us! Move!” The shuttle’s drive pods sprang to life and the ship nosed up agonizingly slowly. They had to get away. Beside them, the messenger-drone’s rockets also flared up and the tiny ’bot sped away.

  “What’s happening?” Alex said. “Their rockets are faster than ours, right?”

  “There’s one now.” I pointed up. An Aylin rocket flew past like a shooting star, speeding into deep space. Interference or not, they couldn’t miss us at this distance. Four more rockets flew past in a cluster. I gripped Betty’s control arm, my skin crawl-ing. Soon. The shuttle pushed farther and farther away. Another rocket streaked by our drive pods.

  Twenty seconds. Forty seconds. Seventy-eight seconds without another Aylin rocket. We rolled back into view.

  “What the hell happened?” Michael said.

  I zoomed my lenses in on the destroyer. “We knocked them into each other,” I said, understanding suddenly.

  I replayed the recording from the shuttle over and over later.

  The healthy destroyer had dropped in extremely close to her crippled sister. My first lucky shot pushed her bow down and they collided. Their autonomous defensive systems kicked in and launched rockets, aimed at our warheads, not at the Glory.

  My second lucky shot hit near the tail, pushing her farther into her sister. All the rest of my warheads were intercepted. It was the collision that, in the end, destroyed the ships. When the drive pods impacted, dense yellow flames burned at the edge of the star’s red.

  Now we wait.

  The shuttle’s been gone two weeks, but only took four people. The rest of us chose to stay here, on the Glory. Trying to get the stasis containers working again so we can sleep until rescue comes.

  Alex repaired the conduits bringing power from the radioisotope thermal gen-erators and he’s slowly powering up the undamaged batteries. The oxygen gener-ator and CO 2 scrubbers are working fine in our compartment, and we have heat. Leona and Mr. Liu have some hull ’bots working, and they’re patching the rent hull as best they can. We want the Glory in good enough shape for a tow home when rescue comes.

  The gyros are spinning again and they stopped our roll. The pilot turned the hull breach away from the star to protect us from the UV radiation. I keep our guns ready. Michael and I distributed a few warheads to each of them.

  And when I’m not helping with the hull repairs or with wiring, I sit on Annie’s barrel. I’ve seen this view a million times through the remote feeds, but this is the first time I’ve seen it through my own eyes. After the rescue, I may never get another chance. I never get tired of watching the cold stars.

  Back to Contents

  DEAD END

  John G. Hemry

  (a.k.a. Jack Campbell)

  FROM THIS DISTANCE, THE MOON ORBITING THE FIFTH PLANET AROUND THE RED DWARF SUN WASN’T visible to the naked eye. On the screens of guidance computers installed on twenty asteroids, the moon flared as a brilliant white dot. Commander Jane Devries checked the maneuvering solutions, checked the green status lights for the directed-thrust parasite drives also installed on the twenty asteroids, then gave a thumbs-up to Captain Franco. “Ready for launch, Sir.”

  “Is everyone in the landing parties back aboard?” Someone, rumor held, had once left a landing party on an asteroid when they launched it. No one wanted to be the ship to make that mistake again.

  “Yes, Sir. All personnel confirmed aboard.”

  Captain Franco grinned, the skin of his face stretching into a grotesquely wide smile. “Launch.”

  “Launch, aye.” Commander Devries punched one button, then a second. “Con-firm all parasite drives activated. Confirm guidance systems providing input.” Very slowly, but gradually accelerating, the twenty asteroids began moving on a path which would bring them to the moon around the fifth planet in a few months time.

  “Take that, you bastards,” someone muttered.

  Captain Franco’s smile somehow widened a little more. “Navigator, you have the course laid in to reach that T’kel base?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then let’s go.” Accelerating far more rapidly than the asteroids, the Chesapeake headed into the red dwarf’s system. “Commander Devries, make sure every possible weapon is ready when we come within range of that moon.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And make sure we’re watching for any ships trying to escape before we get there.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Devries reviewed the status of the Chesapeake’s weapons and sensors, no emotions stirring within her. “None of them will get away.” “Excellent. Did they actually think they had a chance of hiding this base? In a few months our rocks will be ripping that moon apart.”

  Devries nodded.

  “And they’ll just have to sit and watch our rocks coming, because we’re going to destroy everything on that moon that can lift. Go to hell, you bastards.” A momentary quiet settled on the Chesapeake’s bridge, before being shattered by a rapid beeping. “Incoming message, Captain. High priority.” Franco’s smile vanished. He chewed his lip as he waited for the communications system to decode the message. The voice which finally came out sounded weary. “All units in the Fleet of Humanity. The T’kel have hit our orbital station codenamed Phoenix Twelve. All spacecraft destroyed. Incoming asteroids have been detected, with an expected arrival time of five weeks. Any ship able to reach Phoenix Twelve and evacuate personnel and equipment before asteroid strike arrives respond immedi-ately.”

  Captain Franco’s lip twitched. He stared at Commander Devries while she ran the calculations, then slowly shook her head. “We can’t make it, Sir.” “Damn. Pray to our dead ancestors that someone else can. Alright, then, let’s go get these T’kel. We may lose Phoenix Twelve, but they’ll lose this moon. And every one of their scum infesting it.”

  All weapons ready, with a swarm of asteroids in its wake, the Second Battle Squadron of the Tenth Combat Task Force of the Mars Flotilla of the Fleet of Humanity headed inexorably for its target. Commander Devries gazed outward, seeing no other ships on her display. Just her ship, the Chesapeake. For the Chesapeake was the last surviving ship of the Second Battle Squadron. If th
e Tenth Combat Task Force should gather, only four ships would be present. The Mars Flotilla, at last count, could still muster twenty ships. How many ships still made up the total Fleet of Humanity was known only to the very highest commanders of mankind.

  Devries shifted her gaze to the nearby bulkhead. The pictures were fastened there, as they were on every ship which remained of Humanity. The first showed a blue and white dappled globe, home to teaming billions. The second showed the shattered remnants of that world, after the T’kel-launched asteroids had come swarming down from the outer edges of the solar system. Empty of life, once home to the human race, Earth lived only as a motivator for the vengeance represented by the next two pictures, the before and after for the T’kel homeworld, after mankind-launched asteroids had impacted there. T’kel billions had died then, too.

  Then we lost Mars. They lost Ghald. We lost Titan. They lost Haf’g. And so on. We smashed a T’kel Task Force at Daniel’s Star. They smashed a lot of our ships at Dragon One. And so on. The fleets get smaller, the planets and moons and bases die every time either side tries to establish anything in a fixed orbit situation. Commander Devries tried to summon up sorrow, but she’d lost the ability to feel anything a long time ago. What else can we do?

  The refueling point had a code-name. Apache. Were there any Apaches left in the Fleet of Humanity? Devries had heard the smaller ethnic groups were virtually exterminated already. Only those groups which had started with large numbers were still represented in the Fleet’s dwindling ranks.

  The tanker flashed into existence. Tense minutes followed as the two ships matched courses and began transferring fuel. They were following a predictable tra-jectory now, which meant they’d be vulnerable until the transfer was complete.

  “Captain! There’s movement near the second planet.”

  Franco checked his own display, cursing under his breath. “There’s something coming out. Fast.”

  The Chesapeake’s combat system chirped as it identified the object. “Asteroid, Captain. Point-three-four klicks in diameter. Speed—. What the hell?” Commander Devries jerked the watchstander out of the way to read the data. “It’s coming in very fast. Collision course. One point six hours.” “That’s impossible!”

  “That’s what it’s doing. The T’kel must have improved their parasite drives.”

  “By a goddamn order of magnitude! They must have finally cracked the Baker Algorithms. Can you spot a base in there, or a T’kel ship?”

  Devries shook her head. “Nothing, Captain. It must be an automated mine, planted here in case we popped into this system. If we could just figure out how to rendezvous in deep space we wouldn’t have to worry about this kind of attack.”

  “And if we could figure how to stop asteroids we could finish the T’kel. How long until fuel transfer is complete?”

  “One-point-one hours.”

  “Can we out-accelerate that thing at that point?” Captain Franco left off the obvious, that the T’kel mine would probably attempt to alter its path to intercept them. Devries ran some calculations. “If we head off at a high angle, it shouldn’t be able to follow us. That extra speed means the mine can’t maneuver as well.” Not that any asteroid could maneuver well.

  “Good.” The minutes dragged, the T’kel mine coming closer. Jane Devries watched the visual display, where Humanity Eyes planted in the system were able to track the asteroid as it flashed past. Humanity Eyes were everywhere, watching every-thing, transmitting reports whenever suspected T’kel activity was detected. Mines, human and T’kel, were everywhere, too. I wonder how many mines we’ve planted here? No worlds left worth trying to build on. What was the second planet called? Faeroe. It was pretty cold there. Before the T’kel rocks hit. And those moons around the third planet. Two good ones. The T’kel got to them first. Our rocks got to the T’kel. She scanned the displays again. Dead system. We helped make it that way.

  “Transfer complete. Breaking links to the tanker.”

  Captain Franco’s smile was back. “Good. Get us going.”

  The Chesapeake began to flee, angling away from the path the asteroid had targeted.

  “Captain? The tanker’s got a problem.”

  “What?” Franco stared at the displays. “What problem?”

  “Maneuvering systems dropped off-line. They’re trying to get them up again.” “They’ve got a rock heading for them! Can we tow them out there?”

  Devries checked her data. “No, Sir. No time.” More minutes crawled past. Everything’s getting older and older. Less reliable. More prone to failure just when you need it. “If they don’t maneuver pretty quick, they won’t be able to get away.”

  Franco’s face had gone ashen. “Get them off it. Order them to abandon ship.” “Sir, we need that tanker!”

  “I don’t care. Get our people off of that thing.” Alarms began sounding as the asteroid closed on the tanker. “Where’s the lifeboats? I told them to evacuate.” “They think they can get it going, Captain.”

  “No! It’s too late. Repeat the evacuation order.”

  “Yes, Sir. Acknowledged, Captain. They’re headed for their boats.”

  Devries watch the track of the T’kel asteroid mine heading on a perfect intercept trajectory with the tanker. Small objects began fleeing the tanker, lifeboats each carrying a few humans. The crew of the Chesapeake could only watch, praying the lifeboats would get clear of the danger area before impact.

  “Time to impact five seconds. Three. Two. One. Impact.”

  Humanity Eyes near the tanker recorded its destruction. Against the mass of an asteroid that size, the tanker had simply been smashed. The last two lifeboats out failed to get free, also getting caught by the asteroid as it swept past.

  Captain Franco stared blankly at the display. Commander Devries spun on the bridge crew. “Let’s get in there and pick up those boats. Make sure we do it fast, before that thing can manage to make it back.”

  They’d picked up the surviving lifeboats and started accelerating out of the system before Captain Franco came out of his daze. “Notify the Task Force commander that the tanker was destroyed along with one third of its crew.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.” Commander Devries began coding the message. The Tenth Combat Task Force was down to three ships.

  Commander Devries left the bridge, walking slowly through the battered pas-sageways of the Chesapeake. Time and hard use had taken its toll everywhere. Even inside me. When did I stop caring? Please don’t let me start caring again. I’ll go in-sane if I do. She stopped at Captain Franco’s cabin and knocked politely.

  “Come’n in.” Captain Franco sat sprawled in one of the worn chairs which graced his cabin. A near-empty bottle sat on his desk. Reaching for it, Franco took another swallow.

  “Captain, you shouldn’t be drinking that crap. The crew distills it out of all kinds of junk. It’ll kill you.”

  “Now or later. What’s the diff’rence?” Franco gazed into the distance. “Got a question, Jane. What’s the name of that tanker?”

  Devries frowned. “I’ll have to check. I think it was the Baltic Sea.” Ships named after pieces of a world. The real pieces of that world were gone. The ships remained. A few of them, anyway.

  “I nev’r knew. Didn’t care. Didn’t wanna know. All dying. Now. Later.” Captain Franco drank the last liquid from the bottom, started to hurl it away, then carefully sat it down. You didn’t break anything on purpose. Not any more. “We can’t last.

  Need bases to build ships. Mines for raw materials. Factories. Places for cities. Not enough kids in space. Too many miscarriages. Y’know.”

  A chill entered the dead place inside Devries. “I know.”

  “Can’t do it. Can’t build anything. Damned T’kel just rock ’em.” “We rock theirs back.”

  “Yeah.” Franco brooded for a moment. “Figured out how to make sure they lose.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yeah. Gotta plan. Bet the brass buys it.”

  Jane Devrie
s eyed Franco with growing curiosity. “What is it?”

  “Reserve worlds.” Franco hiccupped. “Y’know. Habitable planets we’ve stayed off of so the T’kel wouldn’t rock ’em. Someplace to rebuild humanity after we win. T’kel got ’em, too.”

  “I know. So what?”

  Franco smiled again, an unnerving sight. “We put our people on T’kel reserve worlds. They’ll have to rock their own worlds to stop us. Wipe out their chance to ever rebuild. Make sure they die. All of ’em.”

  “But they’ll do the same thing to us! They’ll plant T’kel bases on our reserve worlds. We’ll have to rock them!”

  “So what?”

  Devries stared at Franco, feeling something stirring again inside where she’d thought everything long dead. “Without those worlds, we can’t survive. We’ve lost too much. We need them after we win.”

  “Ain’t gonna win, Jane. Gonna die. You know it s’well as I do. Gonna make sure we take ’em down with us. Brass gonna like my plan. You see. Finish those T’kel bas-tards.”

  “Captain, what’s the point?” The stirring inside of Devries came out in a scream. “What’s the point of us both being wiped out?”

  Franco focused on her with some difficulty. “Got no choice. They started it. R’member? Earth. We hit ’em back. Not enough. Now all gone. Earth, Mars, New America, Celestial, all gone. Still got fleet. What’s left of it. Gonna kill ’em.”

  “At what point does who started it begin to lose meaning? I hate the T’kel! They’ve killed everything and everyone I’d ever loved! But why does humanity have to die killing them?”

  Franco frowned for a moment. “Only way.”