“Go ahead - quickly.” Recker smiled grimly. “I intend pulling through this, Lieutenant Eastwood, and if that means I need to destroy this ship or its engines, then so be it.”
The code modifications were finished in the promised minute and Eastwood leaned back in his chair, with the air of a man who didn’t quite believe what was happening.
“And I changed the 200% hard cap on the overstress to 500%,” he announced. “There’s no chance the engines will go that high, but I figured we might just need everything we can get.”
Recker nodded. “Leave it at 500%,” he said. “Our experience on the Finality suggests we’re unlikely to see much beyond a 400% boost.”
The crew spent a few minutes discussing their approach. In reality, they were only killing time before the moment came, and they weren’t left waiting long. The Expectation had been coasting at maximum speed for the last three hours and the propulsion suddenly intruded.
“We’ve had an adjustment to our vector,” said Burner.
“The engine output indicates we’re banking,” said Recker, glancing at his display.
“Let’s hope the core override doesn’t decide a crew is surplus to requirements and switches off the life support,” said Burner nervously.
“If it was going to happen, we’d be dead already, Lieutenant.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
A minute later, the Expectation’s velocity was down to 1100 kilometres per second. The engines grumbled and Recker felt the on-off stresses as the life support stabilised the interior against a series of erratic course corrections.
“Whoever programmed the core override’s flight behaviour shouldn’t be allowed within a million klicks of a spaceship,” he said. “This is like being on a fairground ride.”
“We’re slowing,” said Aston. “Not long to go.”
Recker turned and caught her gaze. She knew the moment was coming and was ready for whatever happened.
“Got something on the sensors, sir!”
A grey mass appeared on one of the starboard arrays. With Burner unable to make adjustments, the spaceship cluster remained outside of the sensor’s focus for long moments and then it abruptly snapped into clarity.
Recker stared. The cluster was within a hundred kilometres of the Expectation and the first thing which caught his eye was the Trojan battleship, with the clear outline of a Daklan heavy cruiser seemingly within touching distance. Further away and at the edge of the feed, Recker spotted what he believed was the cruiser Shock and Awe.
“I’m unable to confirm if any other warships have been expelled from the cluster,” said Burner.
“Keep watching,” said Recker.
While he was extremely keen to find out what had befallen both the HPA and the Daklan spaceships, the most important target right now was the satellite which had captured them. Recker wanted to know what it looked like and what visible armaments it was carrying. The hulking beam of the Trojan limited the viewing angle, denying him a sight of his foe for long moments.
At last, the core override altered the Expectation’s orientation and Recker got a first glimpse of his opponent. At this range, even the best sensor deflection technology wasn’t enough to conceal the target.
“What the hell is that?” asked Burner.
Recker didn’t know. The satellite was a cube, made of an alloy so dark it was only distinguishable against the backdrop because the Expectation’s sensors automatically enhanced the colours and traced an outline around the alien vessel. At a little more than two thousand metres along its edges, Recker figured it had a mass of anywhere between 160 and 240 billion tons, depending on its composition, and every visible face was covered in sharp-pointed pillars, each 500 metres long and with square bases.
“Looks like a spiked mace from early Earth history,” said Eastwood. “Except without a handle to swing it.”
“I think those pillars might be antennae,” said Burner. “Or maybe a type of sensor array I haven’t seen before.”
“Which would explain how they managed to detect us from fifteen million klicks,” said Aston sourly.
Some bad news was apparent to everyone and since it was his plan, Recker felt obliged to mention it first. “I’d hoped that crashing the Expectation into our target would be enough to disable it,” he said. “There’s no way in hell we’d get through the armour on that thing, let alone break it into pieces.”
“Maybe if we had enough speed,” said Burner. “It might be hollow.”
“It might be,” said Recker.
“I don’t believe it either, sir.”
The final manoeuvring continued for another few minutes and at the end of it, the Expectation was on the furthest side of the satellite from Pinvos, with one desolator above and another below. On the positive side, Burner had confirmed sightings of every HPA warship aside from the two destroyers which had been ejected from the cluster earlier.
“Ever feel small?” asked Burner.
“Yeah,” said Eastwood. “On mass alone, that satellite is probably beyond the HPA’s construction capabilities. When you add in the core override, it’s like having our noses rubbed in our technological inferiority.”
“I would really like to know what this thing is doing at Pinvos,” said Recker. “The ping from the cylinder led straight here.”
“I have an idea about that,” said Aston. “We believe the tenixite converters form a ringed network, with each in communication with only two others - for reasons of security. What if the creators of the network didn’t want their opponents following the trail from one converter to another?”
“So they added this satellite into the network to catch the unwary,” said Recker. “And we fell right into the trap.”
It was a deeply speculative answer and he knew it. Regardless, it provided a small degree of satisfaction in a universe which suddenly seemed bereft of logic and where even the guesses were in short supply.
At that moment, a new plan appeared in Recker’s mind, fully formed and breath-taking in its potential for destruction and carnage. He didn’t know if it was viable and in order to find out, he spent a few moments examining the warship’s propulsion charts.
He sat back, not daring to believe. This was going to be the longest of long shots, but in the absence of an alternative, he was desperate to put his plan in motion.
“Well, folks,” he asked. “Do you want the bad news or the bad news?”
Chapter Eight
For a moment after his explanation, nobody spoke. Eastwood was the most technical of the crew and, like Recker expected, was the first to overcome his mental inertia.
“Have you checked the output charts and put the data into the simulator, sir?” he asked.
“The core override has locked us out of the simulator, Lieutenant.”
“You added this up your head?”
Recker nodded. “The engine charts indicate we’re coasting,” he said. “Except our velocity is way too high for us to remain in the planet’s orbit. To compensate, the core override program is making constant, small adjustments to our course to ensure we maintain a constant distance of two million klicks from Pinvos.”
“And you’re assuming the satellite is doing the same thing,” said Eastwood. “You’re also assuming it’s automated and that the automation isn’t sophisticated enough to deal with what you’re planning.”
“There’s no crew,” said Recker with conviction. “I’m sure this entire tenixite converter network is either abandoned or the personnel died long ago.”
“If that satellite is semi-coasting like we are, it might work,” Eastwood conceded. “But you’re forgetting that it made a substantial alteration to its orbital track on the last circuit. If it makes another, the control routine might attempt to stabilize the satellite.”
“We won’t know if we don’t try and time is running out for all of us.”
“It’ll work,” said Aston. “It’s got to.”
“We’ve go
t nothing better on the table, sir,” said Eastwood. He gave a short laugh of disbelief.
Recker smiled thinly. “Activate the overstress device,” he said.
Eastwood leaned forward and, with his index finger extended, poked the top keypad on the box. “Done.”
The effect was instant and the engines took on the harsh edge Recker well remembered from his time on Etrol. Electronic needles jumped around on the status panel, settled, and then began a strong climb from left to right.
“200% on the engines,” said Recker, shouting to be heard over the rising intensity.
He pulled the control bars, twisting them at the same time. Immediately, the Expectation banked away from the satellite and its cluster of warships. With no control over the sensors, Recker knew he was going to have a hard time keeping in sight of the enemy satellite.
“There!” yelled Burner.
Luckily, one of the forward arrays was aimed directly ahead and the satellite appeared in the centre of the screen, already dwindling. Controlling the destroyer’s speed was tough when the engines were nailed on maximum and Recker fought the controls.
“The output gauge went past 300% on all six propulsion modules!” shouted Eastwood.
“I can feel it,” said Recker.
“Signs of a reduced rate of change on three modules.”
“What we’ve got is going to be enough,” Recker said, like the words could turn hope into reality.
The Expectation had so much potential acceleration that it easily caught up with the cluster and Recker brought the warship into another tight turn which would put the spiked cube directly between the destroyer and Pinvos.
“Come on!” he said, focusing his mind.
One of the Daklan heavy cruisers lay across his intended path, with its immense forward and aft Terrus cannons looking terrifyingly near. Recker didn’t want to screw up, but neither did he want this to take a moment longer than necessary. He piloted the Expectation directly over the desolator’s topside, narrowly avoiding a glancing collision with a half-billion-ton slab of upper plating.
Then the destroyer was through the outer ring of warships and Recker saw the enemy satellite was directly ahead. He didn’t want to impact with too much force and hauled on the controls at the last moment, hearing the propulsion howl its dismay at being restrained.
With the heaviest of thuds, the Expectation struck the satellite between two of its pointed antennae. Ignoring the vibration which swept through the bridge, Recker steadied the destroyer and increased forward output. Still showing on the bulkhead screen, the fixed sensor feeds offered a view of darkness and jutting shapes, like the spaceship had crashed amongst a forest of geometric trees.
“Mass versus good old HPA propulsion,” Recker growled. “Lieutenant Burner, I’m relying on you to keep us on course.”
Burner’s voice was filled with determination. “I won’t let us down, sir.”
Recker let the propulsion rise to maximum and the noise of it was deafening. For a time, nothing happened and he feared that the incredible mass of the satellite was too much for the Expectation to push off course. Either that or the target’s onboard control systems were compensating for the unexpected change in trajectory. Recker didn’t give up and he willed on the destroyer.
“Output stable at 320% on three of the modules,” said Eastwood. “Looks like the other three will top out at 350%.”
Recker’s heart thumped in his chest when he noticed that the Expectation was slowly accelerating. The hull groaned and shook and he was required to make constant adjustments to keep the warship aimed in what he hoped was the direction of Pinvos.
“Shit, I think we’re doing it,” said Eastwood.
“You didn’t believe?” asked Recker, feeling suddenly light-headed.
“Uh, sir, I don’t know if you thought about this, but the other warships are coming with us,” said Burner. “They’re maintaining the exact same distance as before we started pushing the satellite.”
Recker didn’t know what to make of the news and he didn’t have time to consider the ramifications. Deep down inside, he knew he was winging it and whatever the outcome, he had no option other than to accept the result.
“Those warships have life support, Lieutenant.”
Over the next few minutes, Recker did his best to reduce the satellite’s forward velocity and increase its lateral velocity. Every second, the huge cube’s propulsion made adjustments of its own as it followed a pre-programmed routine for maintaining a stable orbit with a two million klick altitude. To Recker’s enormous relief, the satellite made no effort to shift back onto its original vector and he kept pushing it towards Pinvos, with the much smaller destroyer fighting constantly to overcome the inertia.
“Forward velocity down to a hundred klicks per second,” said Eastwood. “Lateral velocity has increased to three hundred klicks per second.”
“How long till impact?” asked Recker. He glanced at the timer and realized he’d lost track of the seconds.
“Based on the current rate of velocity increase, maybe fifteen minutes,” said Burner. “How fast are you intending to make this collision?”
“As fast as possible, Lieutenant.”
A surge in resistance from the satellite brought Recker’s attention back to the controls. “It’s attempting an orbital shift,” he said. “Damn, we’re accelerating the wrong way.”
Recker did what he could to counter the shift. If the satellite attempted to make a full correction back to its original velocity and altitude, it was likely this attempt to drive the cube into the planet would fail.
“I won’t fail,” Recker said under his breath.
Twenty seconds later, the resistance lessened and although the satellite had regained some of its lost forward velocity, it was still only a fraction of what it had been originally. The greatest relief for Recker was that the target hadn’t rotated, since that would have required him to reposition the Expectation against one of the other faces. Having managed it once, he wasn’t in a hurry to test his skills for a second time.
“Five hundred klicks per second,” said Eastwood. “You realize we’re about to make an impact crater the size of a moon?”
“In for a penny, Lieutenant.”
The Expectation’s velocity kept on rising and Recker felt like he was riding the wave. Each time the satellite attempted to correct its trajectory, he compensated automatically and by the time the destroyer approached seven hundred klicks per second, he’d eliminated the target’s own forward velocity. Impact, when it came, was going to be head-on and it was going to involve more than just the alien cube.
“Any second!” shouted Burner.
Recker didn’t want to let up, in case by doing so he allowed the satellite an opportunity to avoid the collision. He told himself that wasn’t going to happen – if the target had the capability, it would have revealed it already.
At what he hoped was the very final moment, Recker dragged the controls directly towards him. The life support system reduced the strains on his body from the deceleration but not so much that he didn’t know it was happening. The view on the forward feed made it seem like the satellite was racing away and then the Expectation was rocked by a momentous impact, sending the destroyer into a spin which tested Recker’s reactions to the limit. He caught a glimpse of the desolator which had struck them go by, travelling so fast it was hardly more than flicker of grey on the sensor feed.
Recker swore and tried not to look at the swirling view on the bulkhead screens. The planet was visible now – so close that it stretched from horizon to horizon, a sheet of mottled browns and muddy reds that came and went with the rotation of the destroyer.
The controls weren’t responding too well and Recker was certain the collision with the Daklan heavy had damaged something. Even so, he got the Expectation under control, just in time to witness the effects of five hundred billion tons of assorted warships and alien satellite strike the planet’s surface at approximately
seven hundred kilometres per second.
For Pinvos, the results were not positive. The battleship Trojan hit first, striking the centre of a flat plain of dark red, closely followed by one of the desolators which landed nearby. Visible shockwaves rippled out.
Before the shockwaves had travelled any significant distance, the cube landed with such force that the planet’s surface sank inwards, as if the rocks beneath had suddenly become yielding like elastic. A new shockwave rolled from the impact point with incredible speed, and, in the blink of an eye, a crater three hundred kilometres across appeared. Then, the rest of the warships impacted, forming new, overlapping craters and shockwaves.
“Shit,” said Recker quietly, hardly able to believe the destruction he’d caused.
It wasn’t over. The shockwaves continued, sweeping over the planet and lifting the surface into enormous waves of rock. Fissures jagged in every direction, like a hundred thousand lightning bolts had riven the planet’s hard stone. After a few seconds, the view became blurry and indistinct, as trillions of tons of fragmented stone dust was hurled into the sky. Soon, the dust would obscure the impact zone and Recker could only imagine the ferocity of the winds carrying it upwards and outwards.
In the face of such devastation, part of Recker wanted to do nothing more than stare, to see the outcome when the dust cleared - if it ever did. Pinvos had been changed forever and no matter how much he reminded himself that it was only one planet amongst countless others, he still felt the significance.
“Sir?” said Aston.
Recker tore his gaze away. He glanced at the status panel on his console, which told him all he needed to know.
“The core override didn’t go away.” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
“It was always going to be a long shot, sir,” said Aston.
“I know it, Commander. I just thought that the destruction of the cube might be enough.”
“The most important thing was to stop the satellite receiving and then transmitting the data from our encrypted data stores,” said Burner.
Fractured Horizons (Savage Stars Book 2) Page 7
