Looking back to the console, Boyd saw that the Silence had matched his last maneuver, but the pilot had overshot slightly and given Boyd an unexpected extra kilometer. Nothing in terms of minutes to intercept, but a crucial few seconds more where anything could happen. Boyd threw a follow-up maneuver that pressed his gain, winning a few seconds more, then unclipped his seat belt and pressed himself back away from the flight console.
With the gravity system disabled, Boyd flew back to the rear bulkhead separating the flight capsule from the drive room. The locker with the environmental suit was locked. Boyd steadied himself, pulled his pulse pistol, and fired at the locking mechanism. It was still set to low yield, but it was enough to pop the latch. Boyd grabbed the suit and helmet with one hand, tucked the pulse pistol in his waistband with the other, and pushed off the rear bulkhead with his feet, throwing himself back toward the flight console.
Clattering into the pilot’s chair with the suit and helmet flapping around, Boyd saw that the Silence was again on an optimal intercept course. Climbing into the chair and strapping himself in, the suit and helmet floating within reach, Boyd loaded a surveillance drone into the launch tube. He threw a wild maneuver, sending the shuttle upward from the ecliptic plane.
With the drone interface open, Boyd transferred the drive field data to the drone. He launched the drone emitting the data behind the shuttle, and then he cut all power, dropping the core from full output to cold in a nanosecond. Then a burst on the thruster sent the shuttle drifting to port and twenty degrees down back to the ecliptic.
The drone continued, giving a false reading for the Silence to follow. If the sensor controller on the flight deck was as low level as the pilot, it could buy Boyd up to another forty minutes. The gravity well and orbital defense of Supra looked agonizingly close now, despite being hours out.
Boyd nudged the shuttle on a little more, seeing the track of the Silence still following his old course as it followed the false reading. He grabbed the helmet that was turning and tumbling about an arm’s length away, placing it on the flight console and grabbing the suit. He wriggled into the suit, the arms floating around in zero gravity until he rammed is arms in. He pulled the helmet on, and the suit’s seals and power systems activated.
Turning back to the small flight deck holo-stage, he saw the Silence still moving in to intercept the signal they thought to be the shuttle. He allowed himself a moment of delight and a wry smile. He had tricked Kitzov. Every second of deceit counted as extra life for himself.
Pushing the shuttle further from the course of the drone, Boyd calculated the best time to fire up the drive. The instant he did so, the Silence would be aware of two signals in the region. The jig would be up and the diversion discovered, but there would be a few critical seconds more before the true signal and the dummy could be determined. Boyd’s hand hovered over the flight controls.
“Why are we suddenly gaining?” Kitzov stepped down from the command chair. “We’ve taken a hundred kilometers off him on the last few seconds.” He walked over to the holo-stage. “Check the drive field intensity on that signal. Check the space-time fluctuation around it.” His voice grew angrier and more impatient as he realized the truth.
He had been deceived by Boyd again.
“It’s a kraving dummy signal, isn’t it?” Kitzov stood in front of the holo-stage, taking short furious steps back and forth.
“Yes, sir. Reading available now.” The sensor operator threw the reading to the main holo-stage.
Kitzov saw quickly that the fluctuation was a fraction of what it would be if he was chasing a shuttle under full power.
“Scan for space-time fluctuation. He’s gone dark. He’s hiding. And drop all speed now.” Kitzov strode back to the pilot. “Drop the drive. We’re chasing a decoy, you scroat. Stop the damn ship.”
“Drive systems down,” the pilot said.
“We’re still moving,” Kitzov exploded. “Basic kravin physics. Where did you learn to pilot a ship?”
“At the Faction shipyard—”
The pilot was cut short as Kitzov lashed out with a wild backhand across the young pilot’s face.
He turned to the sensor operator. “Find that shuttle,” he said, pulling the pistol from his hip.
“Yes, sir. Space-time fluctuations at several points. I’ve traced the decoy path and found a flux node at this point.”
The holo-stage showed the line of the decoy’s flight and the node where the space-time flux was most pronounced.
“That’s it. Get us to that point. He won’t have diverted much from the decoy’s path, he probably just nudged the shuttle off the heading by a few degrees with the thrusters.”
“I’ve detected a thruster vapor jet at that location,” the pilot said. He looked up at Kitzov, a large bruise swelling on his right eye.
“Good,” Kitzov said. “Now try and find another and extrapolate the shuttle’s heading.”
“Got it,” the sensor operator said. “Projecting course to the holo-stage now.”
Kitzov turned and saw the projection as a dotted green line that spread out into a cone showing the possible range for the shuttle. Boyd hadn’t gotten too far away. He had delayed his death by a few minutes at best.
“Good,” Kitzov said. “Pilot, put us in the middle of that cone.” Kitzov looked up at the holo-stage. Somewhere in that shaded cone was Boyd, and Kitzov was going to find him and kill him.
“Heading laid in. Full drive engaged.”
Kitzov turned to the pilot and aimed his pistol at the young man’s head. “Don’t let me down again.”
Boyd saw the Silence change course and knew instantly that Kitzov had discovered the decoy. He punched up the drive, the core spinning up in a fraction of a second, and the drive field threw the shuttle forward.
The heading of the Silence changed again after a few seconds and was once again on an intercept course. Boyd checked his stock of sensor drones and loaded another. He might not get away with a dark running decoy, but a two-drive signal might give him a few more seconds. Every second was a chance to escape. Boyd knew he needed every chance. Every opportunity. He would not give up, no matter how slim the chance was.
He threw the shuttle this way and that, holding the Silence off by moments, but the Faction ship was closing in. Another few minutes and the spitz guns would light up and pour their fire into the shuttle.
Boyd sent the next drone, creating a branching path that could only create confusion for a few seconds, but it didn’t work. The Silence had not been fooled this time and stayed on the true target.
As the Silence moved into weapons range, Boyd sent a destruct signal to the drone. It detonated off the Silence’s starboard side, but it was only powerful enough to distort sensor signals for a moment. Boyd pushed the shuttle a few degrees to port and kept the shuttle out of range of the spitz guns for another second.
And then the fire came.
Kitzov shouted as he fired the spitz guns. He sat in his command chair, his hands in the holographic gantlets, targeting and firing at the shuttle. The streams of pulse rounds flashed away into the void. The shuttle, twisting and turning, narrowly kept the streams of spitz gun pulses off her hull.
Kitzov growled quietly. He focused on bringing down the shuttle. Inside, he was cursing at Boyd while also admiring the piloting skill. He was relishing the challenge of taking on a worthy opponent.
The Faction’s leader was not as great a warrior as many under his leadership, but Boyd was no match for the Silence. The shuttle could dodge and weave, but the Silence had the firepower to win. The Silence closed in, bringing the shuttle into the area where Kitzov simply could not miss. It was only a matter of time, but he fought the controls, hoping to land a killing blow before it became a case of shooting fish in a very small barrel with a very large gun.
“New signal, dead ahead,” the sensor operator said.
Kitzov ignored the report and concentrated on delivering another burst that he was sure would smas
h the shuttle’s lower hull as it turned. He was sure it was just another diversionary tactic.
“It’s Union. It’s a Union frigate,” the operator called out.
Kitzov looked up from his command chair holo-image to the main holo-stage. A Union frigate had moved into the edge of sensor range and was on a direct heading for the Silence.
“They are closing fast. They will be on us in seconds.”
Kitzov detected the rising panic in his sensor operator’s voice and made a mental note to have him disciplined for cowardice after he killed Boyd. And there was still time for Kitzov to kill Boyd. He grinned and fired again.
Boyd looked at the incoming signal, but the sensors on the shuttle were too weak to identify it yet. The momentary distraction was fatal. A salvo of spitz rounds raked across the rear port quarter of the shuttle. The drive field lost symmetry and sent the shuttle spinning offline. Boyd felt himself thrown hard to the side of the pilot’s chair. He struggled to regain control. Any second now, he would be a sitting target. It was a race against time to abandon the shuttle and take his chances in the void with only an environmental suit and its onboard power supply to get him to safety—the smallest life raft in the largest ocean.
Boyd moved to unclip his seat belt. It would not release. He was losing grip of the buckle as the spinning shuttle pushed him hard into the pilot’s chair. As his vision started to blur, he saw the Silence move in closer. Moving in for the kill.
12
Featherstone stepped down from his command chair and walked up to the main holo-stage. The Faction ship must surely have seen him by now, but it was keeping the same heading.
“It’s not a raider, sir,” Knole said. “It is Faction, but it looks like it has a Union configuration. It’s a frigate, sir.”
“Is it the same frigate that escaped the Battle of Kalis?” Featherstone looked at the image of the ship and the range finder counting down.
“It looks like, sir. The drive field pattern is not identical, but it might have been worked on since we saw it last.”
“Well, it is unlucky for them, whoever it is. Send out standard Union handshake transmission and if she doesn’t respond, we will attack. Power up all weapons systems.”
Doc Cronin called out in the affirmative and prepared the Resolute’s weapons. The spitz guns were already charged, the laser and mass beam assemblies coming online. By the time they were in range, they would be fully charged and ready to give fire.
Featherstone’s mission brief was to maintain his patrol of the region beyond Supra on the lookout for any more Skarak ships. Reports from across the system were of a massive Skarak force moving into the system. The mine colony in the Sphere had been confirmed destroyed by a squadron of Blades. They had swept out to the location and confirmed that nothing but debris remained of the facility.
The Skarak attack armada was built around a single massive ship, the Skarak mastership, and was supported by a number of warships. The power of this armada was huge, and the Union fleet could not take it on without concentrating its power against it. Featherstone’s Resolute and other smaller fleet craft were searching for the armada. Once found, the fleet—led by the carrier, Titan—would move to attack.
But a Faction ship was not to be ignored. Featherstone would not pass up the opportunity to kill or capture a Faction ship. And this one was clearly a stolen Union ship. It was not just his professionalism that made him act, it was pride. No Faction captain would be allowed to steal a Union ship, not if Major Featherstone had anything to do with it.
“The Faction ship is firing. She’s letting loose with all her spitz guns,” Sergeant Dorik called out. “I don’t know why. We are much too far out of her range.”
“Maybe she just wants to give us a warning, scare us off,” Hemel said from the pilot’s seat.
“Are you scared?” Knole said.
“Not of this Faction ship. The sergeant, on the other hand? Maybe.”
“You are right to be scared,” Dorik said. “I always knew you were the smart one here, Jim.”
Jim Hemel laughed. He pulled a stick of candy from his jacket pocket and offered it to Dorik, who wrinkled his nose and shook his head. Hemel grinned and stuck the candy stick into the corner of his mouth.
“Time to weapons range?” Featherstone said.
“Three minutes,” Knole said, throwing the new readings to the main holo-stage.
“Standby. Dorik, have the assault team ready to board the Faction ship.”
“Issuing muster commands now, sir,” Dorik said. “Assault teams reporting ready for action, sir.”
“Sir,” Knole shouted, “new signal. It’s small, so small it only just came on our sensor net. It’s between us and the Faction ship. Running close target scans now.”
Featherstone watched the holo-stage. He was ready for anything.
“It is Faction, a small ship. It’s right between us and the Faction ship. Might be a trap, a space mine. We’ll be on top of it in thirty seconds.”
Featherstone had known the Faction to pull every dirty trick in the book. Running a small ship in its bow wave as an advanced weapon was a new tactic and could have seriously damaged the Resolute if it had run headlong into a core collapse. Fortunately, he had a great team on the command deck of the Resolute and they had spotted it.
“Good work, Yan,” Featherstone said. “Target the smaller ship, Doc, and fire when ready.”
“Coming into range of our spitz guns now,” Doc Cronin said. “Opening fire in five—”
“Hold! Hold fire!” Yanic Knole shouted. “I’m detecting a transmission. It’s a Blue Star ident. There is someone in that ship.”
Featherstone zoomed the image in on the small shuttle. It was tumbling out of control.
“The Faction ship is firing at the smaller ship again,” Knole reported.
“Combat drone now. Give me one, full yield. Target the larger Faction ship and fire.”
Doc Cronin worked fast. A combat drone was always on standby and it was loaded into its tube in seconds. The launch codes were sent the second the outer launch doors were open. Doc sent the drone on its way. He set the yield as the drone was in flight.
“Drone away. One minute to target.”
Kitzov brought both fists down on to the edge of the holo-stage. He saw the combat drone leap away from the incoming Union ship. He knew that if the Union ship was prepared to use combat drones then they were not looking to capture his ship, they were clearly intent on destroying the Silence. He looked back at his crew. They were eager and capable, but they were no match for a well-drilled Union crew.
“Abandon the attack,” Kitzov said. “Set our heading upward from the ecliptic, put us in the northern arc of the Sphere.”
“I’ll have the shuttle in range in a second,” the weapons operator said.
Kitzov shook his head. He was pragmatic and knew when to retreat. “We lost this round. We will be back to fight another day.”
Turning away from the holo-stage, he walked toward his command chair. The operators across the deck called out their new readings. The Silence was in full retreat. The combat drone was on its tail, but Kitzov had ordered retreat early enough that the drone would not trouble them and could be destroyed at leisure.
A shadow appeared in the entrance to the flight deck. Kitzov recognized her immediately. He walked over to her, hands held out.
“Little Enke, what are you doing up? You should be in the med-bay.”
Thresh looked at the holo-stage. “I’m fine. Just a little groggy. Did you get Boyd?”
Kitzov pursed his lips and shook his head. He put a gentle hand on Thresh’s arm. “Sorry, little one, he got away. I had to let him escape, but I’ll send my best hunters after him. We’ll get him. No one shoots my Enke and gets away with it.”
Thresh touched Kitzov gently with her palm on his cheek. “You were always so good to me. As long as you are safe and able to lead the Faction, we will be strong. Forget about Boyd. Be alert to other assas
sins. The Union will send more. They want you dead more than anything.”
Kitzov turned Thresh and led her off the flight deck. “You rest. I’ll need you soon enough.”
Thresh nodded. She looked over her shoulder at the holo-stage. The signal was fading as the Silence powered away to the upper edge of the Sphere. She looked at the small signal of the shuttle and the larger Union ship closing in. She hoped Boyd was safe. She wondered if she would ever see him again.
“The shuttle is spinning out of control, sir,” Knole said.
“Preparing a grapple beam,” Dorik said.
“Matching the shuttle’s spin, pitch, and yaw,” Hemel said. “We’re alongside her now.”
“Bring the shuttle into our main hangar. Have the assault team standing by.”
Dorik sent the instructions to the assault team to move to the hangar.
“Sir, I’ll go to the hangar,” Dorik said.
“Yes, Sergeant. Go.” Featherstone watched as the Faction ship disappeared from the sensor range, running and hiding like a true Faction coward. He turned his back on the holo-stage and walked over to his command chair. Stepping up and sitting down, he returned to his duties of scanning the region for Skarak.
Dorik entered the hangar as the shuttle was drawn in by the grapple beam. The Blue Star Marine assault team were fully kitted out in their combat gear, environmental suits, and pulse rifles. They stood in two ranks, rifles aimed at the shuttle.
The shuttle was positioned on the deck. Dorik sent a pair of Marines forward. They moved to the boarding ramp access panel and tapped it. The boarding ramp slid out and the hatch opened, revealing the interior of the shuttle. Inside, a single person in an environmental suit staggered.
Blue Star Marine Boxed Set Page 34
