by Chris Hechtl
“Casualties were moderate—twenty-two dead, forty-nine injured.”
“I'll alert our hospital complex.”
“It happened weeks ago. Most of our people have recovered. We have two in stasis,” the captain stated.
“I'll let them know. Perhaps they can do something,” she soothed.
“Good to know. I take it the factory ship hasn't returned?”
“Ilmarinen? No, sir.”
“Damn. We're looking at a yard job. I'm loath to take her to Bek for repairs.”
“We'll do what we can with what we've got. I don't know how much we can do, but …,” the commander grimaced and then motioned helplessly with her right hand. “We're not a repair yard. That is in the plan, but we're a long way out from making that happen unfortunately.”
“Understood. We'll be docking in two days.”
The commander pursed her lips as she ran the numbers. “Is there something else wrong with your sublight drive, Captain?”
“The starboard side is shot, and as I said, we're missing a nacelle. We are also very low on fuel; a lot of it was vented when we were torn up. And no, I don't want or need a tug to come out. It's not about my pride either, Commander. I know you have a fuel situation too. We'll get there under our own power. It will just take a little longer.”
“Understood,” the commander said quietly.
“Do me a favor. I'll make the report to the ansible.”
“Yes, sir. We already sent a contact report announcing your arrival. That way the brass and your families will know. Beyond that, the details are of course up to you.”
“Good. I'll transmit my logs to the ansible. I know I'll be facing a board for it but so be it. At least my crew is safe. Most of them anyway,” the bug said, wiggling his antenna.
Michaela nodded. She could see that the experience would haunt the bug.
“Yes, sir. Do you need anything?”
“Have your engineers standing by. My engineers are doing a survey now. If you can pull the parts we send from your stores, if you've got them, they'd appreciate it.”
“Yes, sir. We'll get it done.”
“Good. Rolling Thunder out,” the captain said.
@
Chief Bailey grimaced as he led a work party onto Rolling Thunder to help survey and assess the damage. Just from the exterior shots alone he knew the damage was bad. The force of the impact on the force emitters had ripped and torn them from their mounts. In some places, the hull had buckled. There were wrinkles in some of the hull plating; in others it was torn to shreds.
The amount of force it took to do that to a hull was hardly something he wanted to think about.
And that was just the exterior he realized. The surviving crew had all they could do to keep the ship running to get her into port. They hadn't been able to do much in the way of repairs. He grimaced at the stench of some of the areas they'd managed to get pressurized. There were body parts and … juices somewhere he knew. The good news was his people were used to such things after salvaging so many ships in the Sargasso star system.
The bad news was it sucked to have to turn those skills and experience on a warship. “Son of a … can't they send us a whole ship?” he snarled. “Another bloody fracked-up ship!”
“Bad,” Casey muttered over and over.
“You're telling me,” Flick Gatsby grumbled. He had a reel of ODN cable over his shoulder. “I can't do anything until the structure is fixed. Can we even do that?”
“We can do a lot. But I don't know,” the Neochimp replied to the fox, shaking his head. “Put the gear down. We'll have to start with getting this wreck torn down to studs and then start over. Flick, check with the electronics in neighboring compartments. Make sure a spike didn't do anything to them.”
“Yeah, Chief, on it,” the Neofox replied with an ear flick before he departed.
“Chief, the hull is shredded. We're working with the crew and remotes to clear some of the easy wreckage, but we're going to need some serious plasma torches to cut through some of the armor and structural members. We really need a ship architect to suss out what is safe,” Spaceman Z'k'll reported over the radio.
“Frackity frack,” Chief Bailey grumbled as he rubbed his temples. “And of course, the brass wants this ship back in fighting trim yesterday. Like that's going to happen! There goes all my free time! And my family just got here!” he grumbled. He threw his hands up in the air in frustration.
“Well, the good news is Miss Bailey won't shut this hyperdrive down. It got this ship this far,” Casey said.
“Yeah, one thing working,” the chief grumbled as he keyed his radio. “Just get me that survey. Clear the wreckage and keep a running log of everything you take out. Try to unbolt things instead of cutting them, Z'k'll,” he said patiently.
“Sure, right, like we hadn't thought of that. Okay,” the Veraxin grumbled. “The hull damage goes back to the midline. There are creases in the frame; I bet it's no longer straight. That nacelle is just gone too …”
“Just do it with less backshit and chatter my way,” the Neochimp grumbled as he cut the channel.
“Frack me. What fun,” he grumbled as he moved into the dark compartment to get a better look at the damage.
Chapter 30
B-102c
Seventeen weeks after departing Bek, Ilmarinen jumped into the outskirts of the B-102c star system. They hadn't set any records, but they'd gotten to the star system safely.
The computer program embedded in the ship's computer network established the fact that they had arrived in the Sargasso star system and that the crew had not transmitted an IFF as protocol dictated. It scanned the log and found the orders from Admiral Childress to Captain Clayton. It opened a port and established a link to the dongle buried in the guts of the communications system.
The computers within the communications system opened the script and followed its directives. It took the hundred-megabyte data file, processed it, and then compressed it for transmission. The file was loaded into a whisker laser and transmitted to the station's known location as well as the ansible platform.
On top of that, an audio transmission began to play out over the radio. “To all ships. A state of mutiny continues to exist in Bek. Admiral Childress remains in command and Admiral Logan has been arrested and is on trial for his life. Captain Clayton has orders to use Ilmarinen to first destroy the ansible platform, then evacuate the station and destroy it. He is authorized to use lethal force to achieve his mission and will not answer hails to stop. Beware. Message ends,” a robotic voice said over every audio channel.
@
“Sir, an unauthorized radio transmission has just been broadcast from the ship,” the sensor officer reported stiffly.
“Who authorized it?” the captain demanded, glaring at the communications tech. The tech put her hands up and shook her head. “Arrest her,” he said, pointing to the tech. “Get her off my bridge.”
“Sir, you've got to hear this,” the sensor officer stated. Before the captain could object, he put it up on the bridge PA.
“ … He is authorized to use lethal force to achieve his mission and will not answer hails to stop. Beware. Message ends,” the robotic voice said.
“Sir? What are we doing? Why are we attacking a naval installation and our own personnel?” a tech demanded.
“As you were,” the captain snarled.
Captain Clayton stood on his bridge, furious at how things had turned out. He should have known better; he should have given it up before he'd even gotten into the star system. But, they'd gotten him this far. He had a duty to perform he thought with a corner of his mind. Bleakly, he realized there were more ships in the star system than anticipated.
“Sir? What do we do?” his XO asked carefully.
“We have our orders. We carry them out. Ignore all hails from the station and ansible until we are in the inner star system.”
“Sir?”
“Set course for the ansi
ble platform.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. Don't answer any calls from the station or anyone else,” the captain said, addressing the bridge. “I'm logging that order now.”
@
“Commander Lafleur, we're getting some sort of transmission from Ilmarinen,” Echo reported.
The station commander frowned as she got out of the shower and began to dry off. She hated having only a two-minute shower; it was barely enough time to wet down, soap up, rinse, and then shampoo her hair. But she'd rather do it the old-fashioned way than with a sonic shower. The sonic thing set her teeth on edge, and she never felt completely clean anyway. “Define some sort of transmission. Are they in trouble?”
“No, but it appears we are,” the A.I. replied, “or to be more precise, the ansible is.”
“What the devil are you talking about, Echo?” the commander said as she paused in drying off to look at the screen on the wall nearby.
“Play the damn message,” the commander growled as she snagged her uniform and began to put it on.
“Playing message now.”
The commander listened with growing consternation. She shook her head. “Is this some sort of prank? What the devil is going on over there! Have you tried to radio them again?”
“Yes, ma'am. No response.”
“Well keep trying.”
“Yes, ma'am.
“And get me Captain Sharp Wit. We've got to figure something out. And send a report off to the ansible in care of the Admiralty.”
“Aye aye, ma'am.”
“It's like the entire damn universe is off its rocker all of a sudden,” she muttered as she ducked her head into her turtleneck.
@
Antigua
Word of Ilmarinen's arrival and transmission was reported through the ansible to the Federation Admiralty. News of the potential attack was picked up by Captain Sprite who broke into a meeting to report the news to Admiral Irons.
“Are you serious?” Admiral Irons demanded as he sat back in consternation.
“Yes, sir. Ilmarinen is on a course for the ansible platform. She is ignoring all hails from the station as well as the ansible,” Sprite stated.
“And this transmission?”
“Unauthorized, sir, obviously,” Sprite replied.
“I gathered that. Someone tried to help. What about Rolling Thunder?”
“They've got her torn up, sir. Her bow right up to her midships line is open. Most of her systems are down.”
“So, you are telling me she's helpless too?” he demanded.
“Commander Lafleur and Captain Sharp Wit reported they are working as fast as they can to get the ship back into space. She's not completely helpless however. She has her chase armaments and some of her broadside armaments. However, her drive was being repaired. She also has extensive frame damage.”
“So, she has some weapons but she can't move. She's at the station, too far to do the ansible any good.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What the devil is going on there?” Admiral Irons stated. “And by there, I mean Bek.”
“Obviously Admiral Logan's mission was a failure. The good news is, we know Ilmarinen got back to Bek now. The planned mission with the freighters can be put off.”
“Right. Ever the silver lining.”
“I'll take what I can get. And, I now have some more information. There was a second transmission from Ilmarinen, also unauthorized. It was compressed and encrypted. The computer in the ansible didn't know what to do with it, so it stuck it in the buffer. I've gotten an abbreviated log. It is from Rear Admiral Zekowitz. It is still in the platforms buffers being transmitted in small packets. I can tell you Bek is a mess.”
“We'll deal with that later. So, how does the captain and commander plan to deal with the intruder?” Commodore Montgomery demanded.
“I don't know, sir. I'm asking now. I believe they are rather busy trying to do whatever they can.”
“Okay. Don't jog their elbow anymore than necessary. But I want to be kept up-to-date,” Admiral Irons growled.
“Yes, sir. I'll put it in your briefing schedule.”
“You do that. And clear my schedule of anything and everything for a while after tomorrow.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me.”
@
B-102c
For three frantic days, Commander Lafleur and the station tried to talk to Ilmarinen as she came into the system. The stationers noted that the ship was indeed on a course for the ansible, not the station. She also refused to answer any hails.
Chief Bailey and the engineers scrambled to get Rolling Thunder back into space, working around the clock. However, her missing a nacelle and sublight engine damage was a serious problem, so too was the extensive frame damage, and their attempts to pull the structure apart to make repairs prevented her from getting underway.
“There is no way we can move with this much structural damage—not and hope to get there in time,” Captain Sharp Wit stated. “Damn it!”
“You couldn't have known it was going to go down like this,” Commander Lafleur stated.
“It is what I was sent here to prevent!” the T'clock chattered, buzzing angrily.
“We're not done yet,” Chief Bailey said over the radio.
“Chief?” the commander said.
“Look out your window,” the Neochimp said.
The duo looked out to see the tugs and even one of the salvaged ships moving out to the ansible. “Chief, what is going on?”
“We're going to buy you some time,” the Neochimp growled. “Get that ship buttoned up enough to make them stand-down,” he growled.
“Chief …”
“Don't even order us to come back, Commander, no time and besides, not enough fuel.”
There was a long pause as the commander digested that. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Good luck,” she said.
“Yeah, like we'll need it.”
@
“Sir, the station has launched small craft to the ansible. They appear to be blocking our path,” the XO said carefully.
Captain Clayton grunted as he looked at the plot and then the main screen. It was a desperate move he noted. They'd even moved a ship in. Based on her sensor return, she didn't have her reactor functional. She was a barge in other words. He shook his head. “Stupid.”
“They are forming a globe around the station. Sir, what do we do?”
“Comm, open a channel,” the captain said gruffly.
“Channel open, sir.”
He cleared his throat and then addressed the overhead. “This won't work. Stand-down. We will follow our orders,” Captain Clayton stated firmly.
“The hell you will! You'll have to go through us first,” a gruff voice answered back. The XO shot the captain a worried look.
“We have our orders. We will obey them,” Captain Clayton growled. “You are in a tug. It's just a platform. Get over it. It's not worth your life,” he practically pleaded.
@
“Yeah, well, we ain't movin',” Chief Bailey growled. He felt horrible in the damn suit. He itched all over but did his best to put such thoughts out of his mind. When he got done, he intended to take a long hot shower, hell, a bath and to hell with water conservation. He'd earned it with this stunt.
“Damn you, move or we will fire on you.”
“You are a factory ship. You've got some defense but that's it.”
“We've been upgraded. I'm ordering you as senior officer in the star system to move,” the captain growled.
“Ilmarinen this is Rolling Thunder. You will stand-down and prepare to be boarded,” a different voice said, cutting through the channel.
@
“What the hell? Sir! We're picking up the signal of another ship at the station!” the sensor tech warned.
“A bluff?”
“At this range, we can't tell. Our war book says there is a heavy c
ruiser, Resolution, Mark II class with that name registered, sir.”
“The hell you say,” the captain growled.
“Sorry, sir, it's the computer,” the tech said, indicating his board.
“I don't know what game you are playing, but it won't work,” Captain Clayton growled.
“Sir, if she's really who she says she is …,” the XO ventured.
“Then why is she broadcasting from the station? I'm betting it's a bluff,” the captain growled.
“Sir, fresh contacts coming in from the station!” the sensor tech reported.
“What now, more tugs?” the captain asked in exasperation. “I should order our own out to play tug-of-war but I'm not in the mood. Order them to standoff.”
“Sir, they are broadcasting an IFF. They are Federation Cobra class fighters,” the communications tech reported very carefully. “There is a pair of shuttles coming in behind them.”
“Sensors are confirming that,” the sensor tech stated in a surprised voice.
“This is Lieutenant Essay to Ilmarinen. My squadron has orders to capture or destroy your ship. So, which is it going to be, boys? You can stand-down or I can fill you full of holes until you see reason. If you attempt to maneuver or fire on the tugs, I'll tear you apart. That's a promise,” the icy voice said.
“The hell you say!” Captain Clayton bellowed as he lunged for the sensor station. “Move!” he demanded, pushing the startled tech aside to get a good look at the plot. He played with the controls until he realized there was no use in denying it.
“It's a bluff,” a tech said. “Isn't it?”
“It's no bluff. I bet the heavy cruiser launched them. We can't get clear of them,” the XO said, voice filled with loathing. “Captain, for the safety of the ship and crew, I strongly urge you to stand-down.”
“Surrender, Captain Clayton. That is your only option,” Lieutenant Essay said over the intercom before another voice interrupted.
“Captain Clayton is hereby relieved of command,” Admiral Irons broadcast came from the ansible platform.
All eyes on the bridge suddenly fell on the captain.
