“Argent to Hunter. Come in.” Zony struggled with the controls on her commlink. “Argent to Hunter.”
Yili noticed and quieted the crowd in the reactor chamber.
“Captain Hunter, come in!” Zony looked up with a worried expression. “I have to go to the bridge. I can’t do anything advanced with just a commlink.”
“Go,” Yili said. “We’ll see what we can figure out here.”
Commander O’Malley saw Zony hurry out of the chamber. He made his way to Yili’s portal device console. “What’s the story, engineer?”
“We lost communications with the captain,” Yili replied. “He got on to the station intact, but we can’t raise him.”
“You’re not considering sending the rest of the landing party.”
“It’s that or we ask the Copernicus crew to do a deck-by-deck, sir,” Yili replied.
“Nobody else transports over there without my orders, commander. See if you can raise the Copernicus and stand by for further instructions.”
Yili was about to reply when O’Malley strode out of the chamber. “Yes sir,” she said under her breath.
Jason Hunter recognized the loss of contact with his ship as quickly as his signals officer. He switched nets and attempted to raise the Copernicus crew without success. He was a good 27 decks “above” them in terms of the station’s structure. The safe play would be to move to the center of level three and take the magneto-lift to the lowest level flight deck. But they had come a long way. The captain wasn’t about to play it safe.
Meanwhile, Zony had arrived on the bridge and was well into a series of increasingly complex diagnostics to figure out why they had lost contact. She knew the captain was transmitting. Unless there was something blocking his signal, there was no physical or scientific reason Argent wouldn’t be able to pick up his commlink. She set her autosystems to begin scanning the entire frequency range for any signal and began to filter it through all the captain’s official voice prints. If the computer picked up anything that sounded similar to Hunter’s voice, Zony would be notified.
Meanwhile, the Argent chief signals officer began a series of diagnostics for the other side of the communications array, and that was the datalink. Skywatch commlinks were designed to participate in a virtual network consisting of an electronic “heartbeat” that was shared with every connected station at regular intervals. Included in this signal were chronometer updates, vital signs and limited location data. The purpose of the datalink was to give more specialized equipment aboard ship the basic information it would need to get a more complete fix on the remote station. The signals themselves were extremely low power and broadcast on extremely low frequencies to overcome physical obstacles while simultaneously fading out at ranges beyond a few thousand miles. Since datalink communications could not be directed, they had to be omnidirectional, which made them a liability at longer ranges.
The Skywatch Signals Corps had been fighting the “persistence vs. discoverability” war since the earliest days of long-range spaceflight. The advent of squadron-level datalink had quieted the controversy for at least ten years so far since the benefits of coordinated point defense and SRS synchronization outweighed the slight decrease in a battle group’s ability to mask its position with range.
Zony was one of the officers who was in full support of datalink communications. Granted, her assignment to a ship of the line had a tendency to influence her thinking. Battleships were by and large not as concerned with “giving away” their position since it was often the case their captains insisted on announcing their position at the earliest opportunity. A sloop or pinnace skipper, on the other hand, was usually quite a bit more circumspect about letting transmissions get out into the open, since they would often cancel out a much smaller ship’s built-in ability to hide in the wide open spaces.
The signals chief performed a quick scan of the station’s structure to see if she had missed anything in the pre-orbit scan. It was possible the station itself was causing some kind of interference, although that was a longshot theory. The Achaen station was built on roughly the same standard “hub and spokes” model of most other Skywatch facilities. As a station largely devoted to scientific research, most of its outer hull was covered with specialized equipment of one kind or another, but the interior areas were fairly conventional. From a distance, the station looked like a child’s spinning top, with a vertical cylindrical main section and two circular secondary sections arranged horizontally with the main hull at their center. The laboratory facilities were arranged in the major ring starting on level seven. Living quarters and most of the life support apparatus was situated on the minor ring starting on level fifteen.
Hunter had materialized near the top of the main hull, only two levels below the main control deck. The captain drew his TK10. He hadn’t traveled this far to play it safe. With his ATMAS in one hand and his blaster in the other, he started for the priority lift. If he could return the station to full operation, it would make Argent’s investigation that much easier.
Every few yards, Hunter tried to contact Argent. After several failed attempts, he set his commlink to a standard range of hailing frequencies.
“Hunter to Argent.”
Zony almost jumped in her shock couch. She configured Argent’s transmitter with a few light touches. “Captain? Can you read me?”
“Greetings from ghost town station, Argent. This is your captain speaking. The temperature is a crisp 60 degrees and it looks like rain.”
“What are you doing on this frequency? You’re eighty standard increments into the VHF band!”
“I’m not entirely sure what the story is over here, Argent. According to my handheld, the station’s automatic defense systems are operational, but only intermittently. I think our shield frequency might be fluctuating and playing havoc with communications. I’m on my way to main control now.”
“Acknowledged. Stand by, landing party.” Zony looked up as O’Malley arrived at her station. “I’ve got the captain. He’s on level three and we might be getting interference from the station’s auto–”
“Say again, Argent?”
Zony hesitated. She re-opened the channel. “Sir? We aren’t transmitting?”
“Say again?”
“We aren’t transmitting sir.”
“I’m hearing something here, Argent. It sounds like voices to me but I can’t make out what they are saying.”
“What the hell is going on over there, commander?” O’Malley asked pointedly.
“Unknown, sir.”
“Raise the Copernicus.”
Zony switched nets. “Argent to Copernicus. Come in.”
The two officers grew more impatient with each passing second. “Copernicus, this is Argent. Respond.”
“Re-establish contact as soon as possible,” O’Malley said. He moved to the conn. “Officer of the watch, set alert condition one. Stand by battle stations.”
“Acknowledged. Boatswain!”
“Boatswain’s mate aye, sir.”
“Set alert condition one.”
“Aye, sir.”
The clear channel tone sounded on every deck. “Attention all hands. Officer of the Watch signals alert condition one. Stand by battle stations. Set time out mark zero by zero.”
“Commander, get me Skywatch spacelane control. I want a T-Hawk formation and a paladin formation on a ten minute alert.”
“Acknowledged. Jets in ten.” Zony switched nets. “Skywatch Tower, this is force command. Stand by for a message from the XO.” The transmitter released. “You’re on, sir.”
“Skywatch, I want a dispatch ready to establish a 200 mile perimeter around the station and a marine assault force prepped for rescue operations in case the Copernicus is in distress. Acknowledge.”
“Affirmative, force commander. Flight Two will report on formation readiness. Skywatch out.”
O’Malley sat at the conn. “Pilot, what’s our range to the station?”
"41.7 m
iles and holding. We are in a powered synchronous orbit.”
Skywatch pilots required an entire academic term to learn the ins and outs of orbital flight dynamics. A “powered” synchronous orbit was one that employed continuous thrust or counter-thrust in order to keep a vessel in orbit while moderating its speed to match that of another vessel. This wasn’t always possible at certain altitudes. In any given “free” orbit, a vessel would be required to circumnavigate the planet or object at whatever speed would keep its altitude constant. To maintain a geo-synchronous orbit meant remaining in a direct line with a point on the surface of the planet. That always meant the vessel would need to maintain a constant altitude depending on the planet’s mass.
The training regimen for pilots required them to become proficient at calculating engine thrust, vectors, altitudes, gravitational constants and a wide variety of other variables practically on demand. Starships couldn’t always rely on the luxury of a free orbit. Very often they would need to modify their course and speed while remaining in a nominal orbit, and that’s when a maneuver like a powered synchronous orbit would become necessary.
O’Malley swiveled to face the signals station. “Get me engineering.”
“You’re on.”
“Commander Curtiss? We can’t transport the captain back with our battle screens up, correct?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“How long before you can get him back here?”
“I can’t get a fix on him yet, commander. I need some time.”
“How much time?”
“Unknown.”
“I don’t like unknowns, commander. I’ll give you sixty seconds. I’m not endangering this ship any longer than that.”
“Sir, Flight Two reports T-Hawk black will be ready to launch in three minutes.”
“Very well. Re-establish contact with the captain.”
Zony switched the nets back to their original configuration. “Argent to Hunter.”
“Hunter here. One more flight of stairs and I think I’ve met my fitness goals for the month. As an added bonus I’ll be in main control. Perhaps I can get– Say again, Argent?”
“Captain, what are you hearing? We’re not transmitting and I can’t hear anything on the channel.”
“Maybe you can explain something to me then, Argent. According to my handheld, there are no air disturbances here. In fact there’s no kinetic energy readings at all on any level. How can I be hearing sounds if there’s no sound?”
This time, Zony didn’t have a ready answer. “I’m not entirely sure, sir. Can you make out what the voices are saying?”
“Negative, but it sounds like a number of people all talking at once. It’s all in hushed tones, like they are trying not to be heard. Stand by, Argent.”
The captain didn’t want to be distracted, so he deactivated his commlink audio channel and slung the ATMAS. The wide steps leading up to the main control deck were spotless, as expected. The bay window at the opposite end of deck one displayed a magnificent view of Achae Three. It was the movement Hunter thought he saw that made him suddenly conscious of the fact he was distracted by his conversation and making noise all at the same time. If there were someone or something on the station, he wouldn’t be hard to detect.
He could still hear the voices, however.
Twelve
“You’re not a hundred percent, commander,” Annora said as she knelt beside the injured pilot and aircar driver.
McGrath glanced at her broken wrist. Doverly could tell she was frustrated. This was the moment Erin had trained for. Her fighter had landed at the crash site after being summoned on autosystems. If the mine hadn’t gone off she would already be in pursuit of Shea’s abductors. Either that or she wouldn’t have been captured at all. That was her duty. She had her orders, but she couldn’t fulfill them. Erin McGrath was capable of a lot of things but she couldn’t fly a strike fighter with a broken wrist. Now, the only one left who could possibly make use of the Superjack fighter was Annora Doverly.
“Anything I should know about the difference between your ship and a 2G Jack?”
“Mine has a better stereo–” McGrath quipped. She and Annora both laughed quietly until the injured pilot coughed and cringed in pain. “It hurts when I make bad jokes, doctor.”
“You’re going to be the reason she survives, Erin. You’re in command until we get back.” Annora rose to her feet. “Julia, take care of the wounded. Sergeant Dupree, you’re in charge of security. I will have the Nightwing establish a recovery LZ here once Shea is secure.”
“Acknowledged, doctor. Godspeed.”
Annora patted her nurse on the shoulder and hurried towards the formidable spacecraft that had landed softly only a few dozen yards from the aircar crash. A ladder had already been extended on one side of the forward hull. Doverly climbed into the cockpit and took a few moments to familiarize herself with the updated control systems. She manually entered her command codes into the fighter’s battle computer. It responded by recognizing her by rank and flight status and released all the security lockouts. Annora tightened her flight helmet as the cockpit canopy lowered into place with a soft thump. The engines began to whine as the control environment was pressurized. The doctor didn’t have time to acquire a flight suit, so on this mission she was going to be operating on standard atmosphere.
Strike fighters normally de-pressurized their cockpits in open space in order to avoid fires and other in-flight hazards. That procedure required self-contained life support, however, and without a flight suit, trying to perform precision maneuvers at high speeds simply wasn’t possible. That was leaving aside the whole issue of nitrogen bubbles in the bloodstream, decompression sickness and the fact that without sufficient air pressure, no human had the physical strength to take a breath.
Outside, the ship’s landing lights began to rotate. Dust and debris blasted away from the trailing points of the Superjack as it rose vertically to an altitude of six hundred feet. Doverly established contact with the Nightwing’s surveillance and communications network and keyed the identifier of the tracking device she had quietly attached to Shea’s coat collar an hour earlier. It took the look-down probes a few seconds to localize the signal.
Annora cycled the vessel’s surface warfare systems. She was relieved to note McGrath’s fighter had three SPECTRE mounts on its forward hardpoints. Only the aft mount was equipped with sprint missiles. The weapons loadout made sense. They weren’t after stationary ground targets on M-Ceti Four. If there was going to be a fight, it was going to be between mobile units. The F-90s targets were either going to be ground vehicles or spacecraft of some kind. The commander increased her battle screens to full power and established a drive field.
“Jack Two to base.”
“We read you, doctor,” came McGrath’s voice.
“I have a target bearing two six five at a range of eight miles. Vectoring to intercept.”
“Understood. Standing by.”
The F-90 pivoted to port and accelerated rapidly. In seconds the Jack of Hearts was gone. The survivors of the crash looked up as twin sonic booms sounded.
“Approach report. Target Kilowatt X-Ray Nine.”
Dominique’s voice was calm. “Passive SRS systems locked. Estimated time to intercept 40 seconds.”
Her target locks all dissolved at once. Doverly tightened her grip on the fighter’s controls. Her target contact had stopped. That could only mean one thing. Shea was being transferred to some other vehicle. It only took a few seconds to see what it was. The Superjack’s battle computer identified it instantly. It was a fully-armed Sarn gunship, and it was accelerating to altitude on its own counter-grav. Obviously this vessel was some kind of transport back to open space. The battle computer shifted designations and identified the gunship as the new Kilo X-Ray target.
The scene was about as ominous as it could get. The major population center of M-Ceti four spread across most of the visible land area. From Annora’s vantage point at
an altitude of roughly 3500 feet, the shadows from the twilight sun mixed with the ground-level lights to form a scene of impressive beauty. What was somewhat less attractive was the dark shape of the Sarn warship as it rose into the air over the farms at the edge of the city.
Annora’s tactical mind raced through her options. If the gunship broke loose and got into open space, it would very likely acquire support from its mother ship. As advanced as the Superjack was, winning that engagement would be a long shot at best. In Mycenae Ceti’s atmosphere, without open space fire support, the gunship would be far easier to engage. Jack Two knew she had only a few moments to make sure the fight didn’t leave the atmosphere. She also had to keep in mind the president’s daughter was aboard. The gunship had to be disabled, not destroyed. Threading a needle wearing boxing gloves would be easier.
The battle computer worked to identify the gunship’s weapons systems. Fortunately the Sarn didn’t take heavy combat units as seriously as the Alliance. If this had been a Tarantula Hawk, Doverly would have been outmatched before she even got her helmet on. As it was, she was up against four energy mounts and a battery of contact bombs. It was going to be a straight-up dogfight.
The gunship was obviously preparing to make the jump to escape velocity. Jack Two went active. There was no point in trying to avoid an enemy weapons lock. She was going to be in visual range in a matter of moments anyway. Her onboard tracking sensors registered a buildup of both heat and reaction energy from the enemy vessel.
The Jack of Hearts punched her atmospheric engines to full and came screaming out of her high altitude approach at Mach 18. She unleashed all six SPECTREs at once, filling the air with a terrifying barrage of white-hot plasma energy fire. The gunship’s shields burned and crackled with energy discharges as the Superjack strafed past. It maneuvered rather ponderously and opened fire at the fighter’s trailing edge. The proton guns nicked the fighter’s aft shields. A moment later, the gunship veered off and ran again. It was headed north now on a heading of one four zero relative.
Annora banked back in pursuit and released her orientation locks. With the F-90 flying in one direction, she pivoted her entire ship inside her drive field to target the gunship on a relative bearing of 140 degrees. Jack Two opened fire again, sustaining a four-second burst of repeater energy into the Sarn warship’s starboard quarter. The blocky ship’s starboard shield fluctuated wildly and collapsed. A second pinpoint shot blasted the coolant control systems into spare parts that rained down on the buildings below. The gunship’s engine power began increasing uncontrollably. Smoke started to trail from its dorsal hull. The fighter reoriented itself to zero mark zero relative and banked away to port. In moments it was making a third run. The Superjack had landed two direct hits and was lining up a third before the gunship had even achieved a weapons lock.
Operation Wolfsbane Page 7
