by B. V. Larson
“He’s injured himself?” I asked. “That was the best you could do?”
“Among Betas, I’m considered a masterful liar.”
She said this with such flat confidence that I was unable to do anything other than believe her. “I’ll take your word for that,” I said. “Did you use tactics such as that to hide your status from your own people?”
“Yes. I told them I was normal—that I wasn’t an Alpha at all. For many years, I acted as normally as I could, behaving as others did. Eventually, however, I made mistakes. I told lies that were found out. They knew then that I could not be a Beta—you see, Betas do not lie.”
“Ah,” I said, smiling. “There’s an old saying on Earth to the effect that in a kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
Zye frowned. “I do not understand the connection.”
“Never mind then,” I said.
I wasn’t surprised by her lack of comprehension. Zye’s people weren’t a subtle, introspective group.
The rest of the visiting crewmen, now leaderless, seemed less rebellious. It helped that their former Marine Commander was committed to following my orders. The rest of them followed his lead. Many of them were too injured to fight, anyway.
What I found most disturbing was the number of crewmen I’d saved. Out of a complement of nearly two hundred, only thirty had made it to us alive. That fact haunted me. I wondered if I could have done anything differently—maybe if I’d let Singh win…
I brought up the idea to Yamada, who laughed at the thought.
“You’re asking me if I’d rather be dead instead of them? Because that’s what would have happened. My answer to that is definitely ‘no.’”
“But we’ve killed a hundred and fifty men to keep the ten of us alive.”
“That’s true,” she said, “and it’s tragic. But there’s more to this situation than that, William.”
“How so?”
“Let’s imagine that Singh had won the battle and this ship. What would he have done with it?”
“I don’t know…maybe taken it home to Earth as a prize?”
She shook her head. “You’re as blind as Zye in a way,” she said. “You graduated at the top of your class in the Academy, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t see—”
“Then let’s use that big brain of yours.”
I looked around to make sure that none of the others were listening. Only Zye was keeping an eye on us, as always. The rest were repairing bridge functions or were somewhere else on the ship. Most of the repair bots and my crewmen were working on the engines now.
“What are you suggesting?” I asked. “Out with it, Ensign.”
“Just this, sir,” she said, “I think Singh was planning to take this ship for his own.”
“To what purpose?”
She shrugged. “Do you think Earth’s entire arsenal could stop this battle cruiser?”
“Maybe—well, no. The more I see of her capabilities, I think our fleet would have been at a disadvantage.”
“Exactly. This battle cruiser would have cut through the rest of our destroyers like butter. Earth has some antiquated missile batteries on the Moon and in orbit, but this vessel has tremendous range, from what I’ve seen. She’d stand off at range, striking by surprise and knocking out all defenses.”
Shaking my head, I had trouble believing it. “But why?” I demanded. “And, there’s a big hole in your theory: his crew. They went along with firing on my pinnace, but they’d never attack Earth.”
Yamada nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve got a bigger computer than you do, and I’ve been working the database on crew histories.”
“Yes?”
“Singh was originally from the rocks.”
I stared at her. “So? Lots of spacers start out like that. The service is a relative vacation for them.”
“Yes, but what if he held separatist beliefs? There are a lot of rock rats that resent Earth.”
“An interesting theory,” I said, “but it’s only that.”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, it isn’t. I’ve been going over Altair’s logs.”
“How?”
“When the ship was hit, the onboard systems automatically downloaded everything to the lifeboats. It’s a black-box system.”
“I didn’t know that. What did you discover?”
“Singh made several encrypted transmissions—and he received replies.”
“Let me guess. These transmissions were directed toward the outlying system? Toward the rocks?”
“Yes. He did this after we found the Beta ship, but before he attacked us. I think he got some kind of go-ahead from allies out here.”
“Miners? Plotting rebellion?”
She shrugged. “How else do you explain his actions? He could have just flown out to the battle cruiser and assumed control of her—but instead, he blasted Cutlass to atoms. I think that was just his first move.”
Frowning, I was beginning to wonder if Yamada was right. Could Singh have been involved in such a monstrous plot? It was so audacious, so ill-conceived…
“His first move,” I echoed. “His next move would have been to kill his own crew. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
She nodded grimly. “I think so. He called his friends out in the rocks. He summoned them to help him. Destroying us in our tiny pinnace—that was the beginning. But you derailed his plans by not dying. Do you see now why I say you did the right thing? The thing you had to do?”
“But I had no idea he was going to try something so insane.”
“No, but you knew he was up to something and that he was going to kill us. You had to stop that. Your first duty as a captain is to your ship and your crew.”
“All right,” I said, letting myself be convinced. “Unfortunately, we might never know for sure if your assumptions were correct.”
Yamada smiled and touched the main displays. I looked on with interest. Unlike the ship’s diagrams shown within the life support module, the bridge had a full tactical display.
The screen showed a region spanning something like a fifth of the Solar System.
“We just picked this up,” Yamada said. “See this green triangle? That’s us. These tiny yellow dots over here are unknown contacts. From their behavior, I’ve concluded they’re small ships.”
As she spoke, more and more dots appeared. The battle computer was spotting them and extrapolating their trajectories.
“This is much better data than the sensor arrays were giving us a few hours ago,” I said.
“Yes. I directed some of the repair bots to fix the arrays. They went up there on the outer hull and cleared off the ice. They also connected up the sensors. The dishes are moving now, scanning the star system automatically and feeding information to the battle computer.”
Taking it all in, I reached out and tapped a swarm of yellow contacts that were fairly close to our location.
“What are these ships? Plot their trajectory.”
Wordlessly, Yamada obeyed. Zye came up to look over our shoulders, which she could do easily.
“That’s the formation of ships I wanted you to see,” Yamada said. “They appear to be in-bound to our position. The readout gives us two hours before they intersect with our location—but they’ll be in weapons range long before that.”
“They are enemies,” Zye said firmly.
Her breath puffed into my hair. She was such a large person, she moved a lot of air when she breathed nearby without her helmet on. I ignored the fact and tried to stay focused on the problem at hand.
“Analysis, Yamada?”
“Zye’s probably right,” Yamada said. “They’re coming directly toward us, moving fast. Given their angle of attack, I think we know who they are.”
“Rock rats,” I said, “militia ships, probably. They aren’t even supposed to be out here—especially in such numbers.”
Zye loomed closer. I could feel her body heat o
n my back. I wondered then if perhaps Betas were accustomed to standing close to one another. Zye seemed to have no concept of personal space.
“Militia ships?” she asked. “Rock rats? What are these creatures and why do they threaten us?”
“The rock rats—sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t call them that. They’re independent miners, officially. They provide most of Earth’s metals and other raw materials. Unfortunately, due to their remoteness, the Guard is unable to police them properly. They’ve got problems with pirates, claim-jumpers, smugglers and the like. Over time, they’ve built up their own militia forces to handle the lawlessness of the outer reaches of the Solar System.”
Zye looked annoyed. “That’s unacceptable,” she said. “I can’t imagine such a thing happening among Betas.”
“No, it probably wouldn’t. But in this system…well, you should think of Earthlings as a mix of Alphas and rogues. We don’t have too many Betas, really.”
“Chaotic,” she muttered and retreated.
“What if we contact them, warn them off?” Yamada asked.
“We’ll try it,” I said, “but they look determined. I’m concerned that they haven’t attempted to contact us yet.”
“They may simply attack,” Yamada said.
“Yes,” I agreed with reluctance in my heart. “They’re the new crew. Singh promised them this ship. It’s the only thing that makes sense of his actions. We found this vessel for them, and he plotted to deliver it. Now, they’re coming to collect.”
We all stared at the screens for a few seconds. The swarm of yellow dots edged infinitesimally closer.
“What are your orders, Captain?” Zye asked.
“Redirect the cannons,” I said. “Lock on their lead vessel.”
Zye worked her console eagerly. “Should I fire?” she asked.
I could hear in her voice that she wanted to. She didn’t like the rock rats, and I couldn’t blame her. They were popular only among people who’d romanticized their existence. Like the pirates of centuries past, they lived grim lives on the fringe of society.
“No,” I said. “Don’t fire yet. We’ll warn them first.”
Zye stared at me in disbelief. “That is not the optimal strategy.”
“No,” I admitted with a tight smile, “I don’t suppose that it is. Yamada, do we have helm controls yet?”
“Not yet—no engines, no directional jets.”
“Then running is out of the question,” I said. “Call Rumbold to the bridge. While he’s en route, realign our communications dish to direct a beam straight into their formation. Transmit a message indicating we’re a Star Guard vessel, and that they’re entering restricted space. Tell them they must turn back.”
Yamada turned to her console and contacted Rumbold first. Then she recorded and transmitted my message. I knew it would go out as a blip of light to be caught and pondered by the people aboard those tiny ships. I only hoped they would listen as I had no desire to do any more killing today.
-28-
When Rumbold arrived on the bridge, he looked around with a gleam in his eye.
“Now this is a ship!” he laughed. “I can’t believe how quickly these eight-armed robots have gotten things put right. Zye, your people are to be commended for their efficiency.”
“Your compliment honors us both,” she said in a formal tone.
Rumbold’s eyebrows performed a quick up-down movement, indicating surprise, but he said nothing further. The crew seemed to be getting used to Zye’s odd responses.
Clapping his hands together loudly, Rumbold mounted the central stage with the three rotating command chairs.
“Where do I sit, Captain Sparhawk?”
Smiling, I indicated the helmsman’s spot. Yamada was stationed there at the moment, but she got up without complaint. She knew Rumbold was our best pilot. Her skills were more technical in nature.
“You have the conn, Chief,” she said, ushering him into the seat.
“Whoa!” he cried, rolling around in the spinning chair. “This isn’t a chair, it’s a roller coaster!”
Zye reached over and increased the friction settings on his chair so that it would only move with a deliberate effort.
“That’s better,” he said. “Thanks.”
Once settled, he seemed to finally notice that Zye was seated next to him.
“Excuse me, Captain,” he said, frowning and nodding sideways at the Beta woman. “Do we have new bridge personnel?”
“Yes, we do,” I said. “Zye knows the ship better than any of us. She’ll be handling the tactical controls. Yamada, sit at that station over there. You’ll take over communications and operate the tactical display coming from the battle computer.”
“Will do, sir,” she said.
Rumbold looked troubled, but he shrugged and put his hands on the console in front of him. Almost immediately, it began beeping error codes.
“Not like that,” Zye said. “The helm controls aren’t hooked up, but the computer will still respond as if they are. You can’t just tap at anything you feel like.”
“Oh…I see,” Rumbold said, lifting his hands gingerly. “The layout isn’t that strange—it’s based on the same intuitive gestures as our own consoles. But what’s this circular widget here?”
Zye and Rumbold were soon deep in a discussion of the finer points of the ship’s piloting controls. I dared to smile while I watched them. Rumbold naturally didn’t trust Zye—but we needed her. She was our interpreter, our guide.
Betas were technically human, and all their technology could be traced back to Earth designs. That said, more than a century had passed on both worlds. Despite the fact there hadn’t been many advances during the dark years of separation after the Cataclysm, there had been some change. Divergence of social and technological norms could only be expected.
Before Rumbold had learned more than the basics, a gruff male voice began speaking. The words boomed, reverberating from the walls of the bridge.
“To the trespassers aboard the salvaged vessel,” the voice said. “You are hereby advised and commanded to vacate the premises. The Independent Miners Confederation has laid claim to the ship you now illegally occupy, and we’ve formally filed with Earth Central for all salvage rights. Do not, I repeat, do not take anything with you when you leave. To do so would put you in danger of prosecution, conviction, and summary execution.”
Our eyes rose upward, searching for the source of the voice. There had to be speakers somewhere—but I couldn’t see them.
“I’m sorry,” Yamada said, battling her communications controls. “I must have left the com system set up to play messages aloud after I sent your statement.”
“That’s not a problem, Ensign,” I said with a calm I didn’t feel. “Are we now squelched?”
“Yes. The channel is closed in both directions for now. We’ll record any further messages they send—but I won’t play them out loud.”
Getting up, I walked over to her consoles and looked over her settings. Zye accompanied me.
Yamada appeared embarrassed that we obviously didn’t trust her ability to operate her assigned station.
“I’m sorry,” I said, noticing her discomfort, “but it would be a disaster if we broadcast our entire battle plan out to the approaching ships right now.”
“She’s done it correctly,” Zye pronounced and returned to her seat.
“Very good,” I said, returning to mine. I decided I’d have to take Zye’s word for it. I couldn’t operate this vast ship alone. The crew had to carry their share of the weight.
“What’s our response going to be, Captain?” Yamada asked me a minute or so later.
“Hmm? Well, I’m thinking that over. They’ve made their play with their absurd claims. Now, they have to be wondering why we’re not responding.”
“Do you think they’ll really fire on us, sir?” Yamada asked.
“That they will!” Rumbold said. “If we look weak, they’ll swoop in and steal this
ship. They’re jackals, scavengers. They only respect strength. Fire a shot into their midst, that’s what I say. You’ve got to show them you’re serious, sir.”
My attention shifted to Zye. “Have you got a target and a firing solution?”
“Possibly,” she said. “We don’t have triangulated data, which lowers our hit probability significantly. Normally, our ships place probes around a system in which a battle is about to occur. To fire at a moving target accurately over great distances is difficult. To raise the odds of a hit when the enemy is within a cone of probability, we use multiple sources of targeting data.”
“Right,” I said, having studied such tactics at the Academy years ago. “They’re small ships, and highly maneuverable. They’ll dance around, and since they’re so far away, we can only see them as they were several seconds ago. That’s the hard part about long range battles with mobile targets.”
“The longer we wait, the closer they’ll get.” Rumbold said. “We’ll be at the effective edge of their weapons range soon. Best to stop them as far away as we can.”
“You’re right, but I don’t think they’ll actually fire. They want to capture this ship, not destroy it.”
“But sir—”
“We’ve got a launch!” Yamada interrupted. “Four missiles incoming—make that six now. I’ll display them…damn it…there they are. Do you guys see that?”
We did. She’d relayed the data to every screen, showing us what the battle computer was showing her.
I stared at the incoming missiles, my heart pounding. It was startling because to the best of my knowledge, militia ships like these weren’t equipped with long range missiles. Such a configuration was illegal.
“Zye,” I said. “Fire just outside their likely positions. Put a shot across their bow to warn them.”
“Locked…firing,” she said.
We felt the ship shudder a little as the big batteries above us unleashed beams into space. The force of the recoil was enough to put us into a slow spin.
“Can we counter that spin?” I demanded.
“No sir,” Zye said. “Not without helm control.”
