She paused, frowned, and turned to the rear, as another loud roar echoed from behind him, the sound of a plasma bolt slamming into flesh, Fox choosing to spend a bolt to hold back the advancing savages. This time, the ceiling buckled and cracked, debris falling onto the console, one catching Robertson on the back of the hand, sending her fist down onto the control panel.
Right onto the release mechanism. She looked up, panic in her eyes, and a five-minute countdown flickered into life on the displays.
“No!” she yelled.
“Can it be stopped?” Salazar asked, running forward.
“Not now,” one of the technicians said. “The overrides are gone, and we've lost several of the blast doors. They're coming, and there's nothing we can do to stop them.”
“You still set up to broadcast?”
“Sure,” the technician said, gesturing to a microphone.
“Now hear this. This is Captain Salazar. The savages will be loose in five minutes minus. All Triplanetary and base personnel, evacuate to the vacuum train on the double. This is your only warning. Good luck.” He looked ruefully at the consoles, knowing there was no time to spare for the data download that might have got his crew home, then moved to the door. Turning back to Robertson, he said, “Time to go.”
“We'll never make it time,” she protested.
“We're dead if we don't try,” he replied, running through the door, the technicians streaming out after him, boiling into the corridor beyond. Robertson stayed in her chair, looking up at the console, and Salazar tugged at her, trying to force her out, but she refused to move. He followed the others from the room, and turned one last time to see her reach for a pistol, the same dull resignation on her face.
He made it back into the corridor before he heard the crack of the gun.
Chapter 25
Orlova sat in the command chair, the pain in her side a constant irritant, looking at the viewscreen as the Hegemonic ships danced across the display. Behind her, the door slid open, and Francis stepped inside, Scott behind, the latter moving to relieve Maqua at the tactical station. Francis looked at Orlova, then moved to stand behind her, eyes locked on the tactical map.
“All command functions on the bridge will be out for at least a day,” he said. “We're stuck with Auxiliary Control until then.”
“Just like old times,” she replied. “This brings back a few memories. Lieutenant Maqua, take the helm. No offense, Imoto, but I want someone with the maximum experience at the controls.” A faint smile crossed her face, and she added, “I've got an idea.”
“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Maqua said, moving to the helm. “Remember that we don't have much in the way of fine control, Captain, and I'm not sure how long we're going to be able to sustain maximum power.”
“Not a problem, Lieutenant. I think we're going to have to go where even devils will fear to tread.” She looked up at Francis, and said, “I presume Alamo's science team has been working on the singularity since your arrival? I need you to channel all the data they've gathered to the helm. We're going to try a right angle in space.”
His eyes widened, and he replied, “A gravity swing around the black hole? Captain, do you realize how close we're going to have to go to make that work?” Moving over to the sensor display, he quickly worked the controls, and said, “Less than three hundred diameters. Well inside our restricted zone. If we have one problem, one error, then we're dead.”
“Take a look around you, Lieutenant. If we try and go toe-to-toe with that Hegemonic formation, either they'll tear us to pieces or we'll be forced to abandon ship. I did that once before. I have no intention of doing it again.” She tapped the armrest of her chair, and continued, “She's a tough girl, Lieutenant. She can get through this in one piece, and if I'm plotting the course right, we'll swing well clear of the enemy forces and have a safe run all the way to the far hendecaspace point.” Gesturing at the viewscreen, she added, “Look at their approach vector. They'd either have to veer off, which should give us the best part of three hours, or have to go in closer than we will. Risking falling in themselves. Hell, unless they're got far more acceleration than we've seen yet, they wouldn't have a chance of pulling out of that dive.”
“Maybe,” Francis said. He frowned, then walked over to Orlova, quietly adding, “Don't take this the wrong way, Captain, but...”
“I assure you that I am in my sound mind, Lieutenant. I hadn't intended on assuming command, but given the circumstances, I don't believe I have a choice. We will revisit the command structure upon the safe return of Captain Salazar, but for the present, the ship is mine.” She looked up again, and added, “Unless, of course, you are contemplating the initiation of a mutiny, in which case I would request that you get it over with quickly, before we're committed to the dive.”
“Swinging in that close to a black hole,” Francis said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Do you have any better suggestions, Lieutenant? Any other way out of this one?” Working the controls on her armrest, Orlova continued, “We can evade for a while, but not on a course that puts us on trajectory to a hendecaspace point. Right now, we've got the ability to make a transition, but the ship is being held together with hope, prayer and duct tape. We need to get to safety, and that means leaving the system. At least for the moment. There are nine other systems within range, and they can't cover them all. How many possible egress points, Maqua?”
“Ninety-eight, ma'am.”
“More than enough places for us to get lost. Scott, I want you to work with astrogation, and find me a nice hidey-hole. Somewhere with asteroid resources, something we can refine. I have a feeling that we're going to have to top up our raw materials storage before we start repairs. A source of ice would be good, as well.”
“How about an Kuiper Belt, Captain?” Scott said. “Right on extreme range, but there's a sub-Jovian with a half-dozen moons, twelve egress points, eight billion miles from the primary. No way anyone's using it for anything, and no notations from the records we inherited from Endurance.” She glanced across at a control, and added, “Course is computed, and on the screen.”
“Very good. Maqua, plot the black hole escape trajectory. Try and add in any margin for safety that you can manage, though I'll understand if your abilities are somewhat restricted in this approach pattern.”
He nodded, and said, “I'll do what I can, Captain.”
Reaching across to a control, she said, “Auxiliary Control to Engineering.”
“Santiago here.”
“How much damage will Alamo take on a high-gravity turn.”
There was a deep sigh, and the engineer replied, “I think she'll hold together, but I'm not going to make any promises or guarantees, Captain. Too much risk that the ship will buckle under the strain. What are you planning?”
“A fast swing around the singularity.”
After a long pause, Santiago replied, “You nuts?”
“Probably.”
“At least you're willing to admit it. I've looked at the sensor display myself, Captain, and while this idea makes me sick to my stomach, I can't think of a better one. I guess we'll be on approach in a few minutes, so I'll start calling everyone into the core of the ship. We're going to suffer hull breaches from this, Captain. Bad ones. I take it the priority is the hendecaspace drive?”
“It is.”
“Then I'll keep it running for you. That and the main reactor. No promises on anything else.”
“Understood. Keep an eye on our lady, Chief. Bridge out.” Turning to Francis, she continued, “I want you at Flight Engineering. Watch the stresses like a hawk, and make sure Maqua has as many of the external data feeds as possible.”
“We've lost half the sensor...”
“I know, I know, but we're going to have to make the best possible use of what we have.”
“Course computed,�
�� a pale-faced Maqua said. “Three hundred and ten diameters.”
“Margin of error?”
“None.”
“I had a feeling it would end up that way. Commit, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, ma'am,” the Neander replied. “Executing course change.” He glanced across, nervously, and added, “Never thought I'd be riding this close to the hole on a battlecruiser. Three minutes, nine seconds to closest approach.” Glancing up at the viewscreen, he added, “Enemy ships are matching course and speed as best they can. I think they're going to try and follow us.”
Shaking her head, Orlova said, “They think we're bluffing. Give it a hundred seconds and they'll realize that they're making a hell of a mistake.” She turned to the communications station, and said, “Anything from the surface, Corporal?”
“Not a thing, ma'am,” Quiller replied. “I'm sorry.” He looked down at a readout, and added, “Chief Kowalski reports that Shuttle Four is ready for immediate launch, and Midshipman Koslowski is sitting in the pilot's couch, waiting for the signal. She's requesting permission to return to the Sphere and attempt a rescue.”
“Denied,” Orlova said, “but tell her to maintain alert readiness. Just in case.”
“Aye, ma'am,” the Espatier said.
“Captain,” Francis said, quietly, “you don't think there's a realistic chance that we're going to be able to recover them, do you? Even if we got a signal from the surface right away, any potential rescue window would be marginal at best.”
“I don't intend to give up until the last possible second, Lieutenant. While the safety of the ship comes first, I will do everything I can to get all of our people off the Sphere.” Turning to Scott, she added, “Lieutenant, any change in attitude from the Hegemonic squadron?”
“Nothing yet, Captain,” she replied. “They're still locked on, following us in. I don't see how they can possibly pull off a turn at this range. If they don't pull out in thirty seconds, they never will.” She glanced across at Orlova, and said, “I've got six missiles in the tubes if you want to give them a little additional encouragement.”
“By all means, Kat,” she replied, and Alamo rocked back for a second as the missiles raced from their tubes, snapping into position on the tactical display as they homed in on their targets. The cruisers that raced after Alamo suddenly uncertain, beginning evasive maneuvers that would cost precious acceleration, potentially dragging them closer to the black hole.
“Change to target aspect!” Scott said. “Two of them are turning away, slewing off to port. No chance of an intercept for at least three hours.” Throwing controls, she added, “The third is still coming, Captain. They'll be in firing range just as we're passing the singularity. That's a hell of a time for a firefight.” She looked across at another readout, smiled, and added, “Squadron Leader McCormack requests permission to scramble.”
“Not a chance,” Orlova said. “Alamo has the power to climb out of this hole. The fighters don't. They're staying in the bay where they belong until this little ride is over.” Turning to Francis, she asked, “Structural integrity?”
“Holding for the moment, but stress levels are rising,” he reported. “We've got to get through this as fast as we can.”
“No argument from me,” she said. “Maqua, how are we doing?”
“One minute, ten seconds to closest approach. I'm having to throw the remaining thrusters on maximum. If we get any failures, we're in trouble. The navigational computer is just about giving up on this. Nobody designed it to fly this close to a black hole.”
“Be prepared to go manual if you have to, and don't give too much faith to the sensor inputs.” She looked up at the screen, watching as one of the missiles found its target, slamming into the side of the remaining cruiser, blasting a satisfactory crater into its side that spilled oxygen into space, a brief ghostly fountain that vanished as rapidly as it had come.
Now the black hole dominated the viewscreen, distorting the display as Alamo drew closer, ever closer, Maqua struggling to hold the ship on course as he attempted to guide her around it, keeping her on the precisely calculated trajectory. Warning wails screamed from the engineering console, systems failures from the outer areas of the ship, and Orlova knew that whatever the outcome, Alamo wouldn't be in a fit state to fight another battle for weeks. Maybe months.
Behind her, the enemy cruiser pressed on, but she was tighter to the singularity than they, and the inevitable happened as it reached the calculated point of closest approach, dragging closer still, unable to veer away. While Alamo surged onto its escape trajectory, gaining speed as it flew a wide parabola around the black hole, the cruiser dived down into the heart of the unknown, distress calls screaming unheeded into the dark, the bridge crew helpless to respond to their desperate calls for help.
“That's it!” Maqua said. “We're clear. Cutting to minimal thrust. Going to one-tenth power.” He turned to Orlova, and said, “Ma'am, please don't make me do that again.”
“We're not going to be trying that again for a long time,” Francis replied. “I'm reading hull breaches on almost every deck, and we're losing atmosphere in eighteen compartments. No new casualties, but internal structural failures are going to make it hell to reach some of the worst-affected areas.” He glanced across at a board, and added, “We've also lost internal communications again, though I presume Chief Santiago will make that a priority.”
“Status of the enemy ships?”
“The two survivors are staying well clear of the black hole, Captain,” Scott reported. “I'm not detecting any signs of damage, I'm afraid. Nothing that will reduce their combat effectiveness, anyway. We didn't get any more impacts after the first one.” She threw another series of switches, and said, “Bandwidth's a lot lower than I'd like on the sensor inputs, but as far as I can tell, we're safe for at least eight hours. They're really heading wide.” She paused, turned, and added, “If I was to guess, we're looking at another series of reinforcements heading this way.”
“A third wave?” Francis replied.
“The course they're on is consistent with linking up with additional ships at the near hendecaspace point in around seven hours, sir,” she replied. “If they're out to capture us, perhaps they're bringing in troop transports. Auxiliary craft, perhaps. Or it could be a deception play, of course, designed to throw us off guard.”
“Doesn't matter,” Orlova said, turning back to the helm, “Lieutenant, do you think you could get us closer to the entrance of the Sphere?” She glanced up at the sensor display again, and said, “I want two quick passes, one in fifteen minutes, the next one in six hours on our way out of the system.”
“Captain,” Francis said, “We're pushing our odds as it is. I'd recommend we leave the system now, while we can.”
“Take a look at your status panel, Lieutenant,” Orlova replied. “I'm not sure that we'd live through transition. Six hours will give the damage control teams time enough to at least start work on the hull, give us a much better chance of executing a safe egress from the system. Besides, they won't be attacking us for at least that much time. We've got a window.” Rising from her chair with an effort, she said, “I'm heading down to the hangar deck. Lieutenant Francis, you have the ship.”
“With all due respect, Captain, I must protest,” Francis said. “If you've taken command, then your place is here, and….”
“I'll be riding right-seat on Shuttle Four. We're going down to the Sphere to give Pavel and the others one last chance to get away. We owe them that much.”
“Captain, you're wounded, and...” he paused, then continued, “I know that Midshipman Koslowski has already volunteered to head down there, and if you're determined to let her make the attempt, that's one thing, but there's no reason for you to go with her. Especially in your current condition.”
“You're wrong about that,” she replied, moving to the door. “I have to go. If s
omeone has to make the decision to abandon them, then I have to do it. I won't leave it to anyone else.” Glancing back at him, she said, “If something goes wrong, then leave me behind as well. That's an order.”
“I will,” he said. “If the safety of the ship depends on it, I will.”
“That's why I know I can leave you in command,” she said.
He nodded, and as she left the room, replied, “Happy hunting, Captain.”
“And to you.”
Chapter 26
Clarke sprinted down the corridor, slipping and sliding as he made his way down the passage with Jimmy just behind him. He glanced at his watch, knowing that they had only a matter of minutes before the twin nuclear charges detonated. The vacuum train was their only hope of escape, the only vehicle fast enough to deliver them to safety. Assuming it was still there.
“John!” Mortimer's voice yelled, the sound echoing from a side passage.
“What are you still doing here?” he replied, panting for breath as he dashed towards a nearby shaft. “I thought you were...”
“I got lost,” she said, moving to his side. At his glare, she added, “Fine, I loitered to catch you up. Most of the guards headed back up to the higher levels anyway, but I thought I'd sweep the perimeter. Did you hear that alarm a few minutes ago?”
Jimmy frowned, and asked, “A low, long wail?”
“Yes.”
“Christ.”
“What?” Clarke asked.
“Someone's released the gates to the under-levels. The home of the savages. They're on the loose, right through the complex.” His face paled, and he said, “They'll be on us in a matter of minutes. Right now they're probably smashing their way through the rest of the guards. Your people?”
Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27) Page 19
