But then, at the last, as if by some pre-arranged signal, the plants which had hold of him all came upright in the same instant, flinging him over the edge.
One of the flowers failed to get its proboscis clear in time and was snatched away as Dalbiri’s whole body disappeared into the abyss.
In the silence that followed, the other wallflowers turned, one by one, in Webster’s direction.
CHAPTER 7
Faulkner closed the channel and then sat back and wiped the sweat from his eyes. It was uncomfortably warm on deck and had been like that ever since they’d entered the debris field. He’d just finished going over the plan, looking for fresh ways that it could be improved on. It seemed fairly straightforward and while he was sure there was some way of tweaking it further, he just couldn’t think how.
He took a quick look at the Renheim’s operational status, which didn’t make for reassuring viewing. With eight of the ship’s thirty-two compartments now glowing red, indicating a possible breach or a loss of environment in each, their systems were being heavily taxed. But that was the unavoidable price of forging ahead like this. There were going to be casualties. And, while they were going out of their way to avoid the larger sections of debris that didn’t mean that some smaller, undetected fragment might not find a way of inflicting a level of damage from which they wouldn’t be able to recover.
The question was: did they carry on like this or did they take a risk? Because the longer this continued the fewer options they would have.
“How are the fire teams coping?” he asked.
“Not so good,” Schwartz admitted. “Of the six, only four of them are still responding.”
“Might that be down to communication problems?”
“That’s possible, but I’m pretty sure that we’ve lost at least one. Tony Adams’s team was clearing out the front basin when the compartment behind them was hit. The thing is that we assume that this debris is falling a straight line and that’s just not true. There must be thousands of cross collisions going on out there and we’ve got no way of tracking most of them.”
An ensign came over carrying a pitcher of water and a tray of disposable cups.
Faulkner took the pitcher and poured a cup for Schwartz and then one for himself. But before he’d taken a sip, Schwartz had drained her cup and was handing it back for a re-fill. Faulkner duly obliged.
“Looks like you needed that,” Faulkner said.
“I’m supposed to stay hydrated. I just keep forgetting.”
“Must be difficult to keep on top of all this.”
“You’re telling me.”
She finished the second cup in three long gulps and placed it back on the tray. The ensign waited for Faulkner to finish before departing.
Schwartz was poised to say something but hesitated, looking around her.
“What’s that?” she said.
Faulkner felt it too.
Saw the evidence on his screens.
A massive power surge.
Then the rail gun fired. Once, twice, three times. The noise was enormous, force of it rippling through the whole length of the ship and, for a moment, Faulkner imagined what it was like to be inside the gun itself.
It took a while for the tremors to cease.
“Let’s hope that does the trick,” Faulkner said. “How are the lasers holding up?”
“Poorly. They’re still operational but we’ve had to reduce their frequency of fire otherwise we’re in danger of burning them out.”
“Okay,” Faulkner said, but he didn’t feel okay. With the shields failing they were relying on the point defence systems to vaporise anything that posed a threat.
“What parameters have you been using?”
“Nothing too sophisticated, I’m afraid. We’re currently only targeting fragments that are over a metre across.”
Faulkner tried to envisage the damage a chunk less than half a metre wide could do.
“And the rest?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, sir. We were always going to be close to the wire on this thing.”
Faulkner’s ear-bead buzzed. It was McNeill.
“Captain, I wonder if I might have a word?”
The pair of them went over to join him. It was quicker that way and saved McNeill having to clamber on and off his chair.
“What is it?”
“I’m just looking at those last two impacts.”
“And is there a problem?”
“I think there might well be. They broke off rather more rock than we’d anticipated. My simulation suggests that if we continue on along on this particular vector there’s every chance we’ll be destroyed.”
Faulkner looked over to Leyton for verification but the helmsman didn’t need to say anything. His eyes said it all.
“Okay. Understood. So, what are we going to do about it?”
“I believe there is a window of opportunity coming up between the second and third detonations.”
Faulkner tried to remember the length of pause between the second and third rail gun blasts. No more than a couple of seconds at most.
“That sounds like a very tight margin of error, lieutenant. Very tight.”
“I’m aware of that, sir,” he turned to Schwartz. “First Officer, do you know off-hand what our maximum safe acceleration level is for a single manuever.”
“Yes. A hundred and forty three percent. Why what are you proposing?”
“High end acceleration. It’ll be brutal, but it won’t last long. I’ve already sent the data over to the helm.”
Faulkner narrowed his eyes at him. “Only, Leyton doesn’t have the training to be able to utilise it.”
“I’m afraid that’s not my fault, sir.”
Faulkner and Schwartz looked at one another for a long beat.
Then Faulkner spoke directly to McNeill. “How much experience do you have on the flight deck.”
“I’m cleared up to Level Three on shuttles.”
“Well, I suppose that’s going to have to do.”
McNeill jumped down off his chair and started running towards the helm, narrowly avoiding colliding with one of the female crew. He managed to beat Faulkner by a few seconds and used the time to lever himself up and into the pilot’s chair.
Faulkner said, “Lieutenant McNeill, you have the helm.”
“I have the helm.”
“Is this a good idea?” Schwartz asked.
Faulkner gave her a blank look. “I don’t see that we have any alternative. We’ve lost integrity on nearly a quarter of our compartments and if this goes on for much longer we’re in danger of losing our avionics as well and with it our ability to control the ship.”
*
Three days after her wedding, Elsbeth Morton had been in the process of cleaning up their new apartment when there was a knock at the door.
At first she had just tried to ignore it, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. They’d been so busy after the wedding getting their accommodation sorted that she just wanted some peace.
It had been the first day Bayaz had gone to work. He’d left early that morning telling her to take it easy and just to get settled into their new surroundings but she hadn’t been able to rest with the place in such a mess. After the wedding they’d been presented with a bewildering array of gifts – there were a lot of lacquered paper balloons – and she had to try and find somewhere to put them all.
When the person at the door refused to go away, she reluctantly resolved to answer it. She was embarrassed that she could still only speak a few words of Coptic and imagined that, whatever her caller wanted, they were going to go away frustrated.
When she opened the door, there was a woman standing there. That was her first shock.
The woman introduced herself in English, which was her second.
It transpired that the woman was the wife of the base commander and had spent three years on Tyburn which was where she’d learned English. While she observed all
the use points of social etiquette it quickly became clear that this was a duty call. She insisted that Morton put on her coat and bring her bag so that she could be taken around the local market and be introduced to all the traders.
At first, Morton had tried to refuse. She had no money so would have to wait for Bayaz to accompany her if she wanted to purchase anything but the woman, who’d introduced herself as Nafisa Tanziat, was adamant that she had no intention of leaving without her. Morton had eventually given in, in the hope that once they arrived at the market she could make some excuse before slipping away. She had no interest in joining the local ladies circle but at the same time didn’t want to upset anyone on Bayaz’s behalf. Especially not the wife of the local commander.
The market was far bigger than Morton had been expecting and was by turns fascinating and horrifying. The Yakutians prided themselves on their fresh meat so invariably had a variety of livestock on display ready to be slaughtered in line with your specific preferences. While she was standing at one particular stall a man came over and picked out a couple of pullets and waited while their necks were wrung.
Tanziat took her to a particularly beautiful scarf stall and, when Morton showed an interest in one, surprised her by buying it for her. Morton felt terrible then, explaining that she couldn’t really accept such a gift but Tanziat waved her excuses away explaining that, as an officer’s wife, she was entitled to her own line of credit on behalf of the navy. They then spent the better part of two hours in the Federal Inspector’s office while Tanziat took her through the process of getting the necessary authorisation codes set up.
Morton eventually became very bad tempered at the male civil servants who refused to interact with her directly. Tanziat led her around like a small child as she was fingerprinted in one room, had her retina scanned in another before being injected in the back of the hand with a retail chip. She was indebted to Tanziat for taking her through the whole convoluted process which she would have to endure at some point, yet she still couldn’t get over how angry she felt at the way women were treated. She was also resentful of the fact that she was being turned into a housewife, something she’d always worked hard to avoid.
Tanziat had then intended to take her to lunch but Morton had demurred, insisting that she had to get on with her shopping as she was planning a celebratory meal for Bayas when he got home. This seemed to meet with Tanziat’s approval; she clearly saw it as a sign that the mad foreign woman could be domesticated if given the right support. They said their goodbyes at the entrance to the vegetable market allowing Morton to go in one door and straight out of another.
In truth, she had no interest in shopping at all and instead headed off in the direction of the camp where the remaining crew members from the Mantis still resided after nearly a month in captivity. She was desperate to see how they were getting on as she’d been caught up in the events surrounding the overthrow of Captain Mahbarat. As the resident doctor, she’d been in charge of monitoring the crew’s health and while she had established a number of personnel who were capable of dispensing the various medications they had access to, apart from a couple of nurses, they were on their own. And there were still a number of crew members who were suffering from a range of complex medical issues who she really did need to take a look at.
She’d been away for far too long.
She approached the checkpoint emboldened. Prior to this, she’d always had to rely on others to get her through the various checkpoints but now after her marriage to Bayas and her recent visit to the Inspector’s Office, she expected to negotiate the checkpoint on her own. But the guards had other ideas.
Prior to this, the guards hadn’t known how to deal with her. Here was a foreign officer, and a woman at that, who was making unreasonable demands on them and they hadn’t known how to react. Only now, all they seemed to see was an uppity officer’s wife who appeared to be straying outside of her allotted zone. Added to that, her Coptic wasn’t very good so she was also stupid.
They treated her as though she was a child who’d strayed too far from their parents. The guards entertained no malice towards her but the fact that she wouldn’t simply do as she was told soon began to wear away what little patience they had so they ended up mocking her to her face with one soldier miming pulling up his skirts and running back home to her husband.
Even when she produced her brand-new credit authorisation they weren’t interested and after a while they got bored and simply refused to acknowledge her.
“Having trouble?” someone asked coming up from the rear.
“Actually…” she whirled round but never got a chance to finish her sentence. “Hermendal? What are you doing here?”
He indicated the checkpoint. “Well, when I heard that some woman was making a nuisance of herself, I thought I’d best pop over.”
She threw herself against him wrapping her arms around his back and refusing to let go.
“Well, it’s very nice to see you, also,” he said, a little taken aback. “Where were you trying to get to?”
She pulled her head back so she could look at him. “To the camp, obviously. I haven’t checked in for nearly a week.”
Hermendal moved her back to arms-length. “Then you shouldn’t worry. After you left, they seemed to come to their senses. They’ve set up a proper clinic and set up some more beds. There were a couple of them who got taken off to the infirmary but it was for the best. It’s not ideal over there but it’s better than it was.”
“Well, that’s as may be but I’m still the Officer Commanding around here. Besides, I’d like to see how they’re doing.”
Hermendal took her arm and spoke directly into her ear. “Okay, but if you’re serious about that, I suggest you go home and come back with your new husband.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“It’s also the only way you’re going to persuade those guys to let you through.”
She pulled her arm away and started back towards the checkpoint but Hermendal managed to block her way.
“Look, I can see you’re annoyed but you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Trust me on this.”
She walked around in a large circle, pumping her arms in an attempt to burn off some of her frustration.
“Alright. You win. Now what? I reckon I’ve got another six hours before Bayas gets home.”
Hermendal started walking back in the direction of the market and she fell in beside him. “I don’t know, you haven’t been married a week yet and you can’t bear to be apart.”
“Yeah, lap it up, Hermendal, this is a marriage of convenience and nothing more.”
“Speaking of which: how has he been with you? I hope he’s been gentle.”
“I slept on the bed and he slept on the couch, if you must know.”
“Okay!” Hermandal said sniffily. “If you don’t want others to share your happiness, that’s fine with me. Would you like to accompany me to the stores?”
“I’ve had enough shopping for one day, thanks.”
“Oh, I see. The navy wives trying to take you under their wing, is that it?”
“Something like that?”
“Well, trust me. They’re only just getting started. If you go home now, they’ll see that as a challenge. You’ll never get rid of them. You’re best off coming with me.”
“And where are you off to?”
“Friends of mine’ve just got married,” he said. “So, I’m looking to buy them a wedding gift. Something classy that won’t break the bank.”
Morton couldn’t help rolling her eyes when she’d caught on.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard that a good tea set should have pride of place in all Yakutian households.”
“I keep forgetting that. The Yakutian bit, I mean.”
“You’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s see what we can find. Nothing too pricey, though. I’m on a budget.”
He took her to a part of the market
place she hadn’t been to previously. It was a lot more exclusive than the area she’d visited earlier. The road was wider for a start, the flooring made up of black tiles flecked with gold. Then on either side of the road were shops rather than market stalls, each with a lively display of a small selection of their wares displayed on a series of stands.
A number of shops seemed to be selling homeware but Hermendal ignored them and headed straight for one at the far end. He walked so quickly that he had to stop outside and wait for Morton to catch up.
“Looks expensive,” Morton said, indicating the other shops. “And there are so many others.”
“Nonsense,” Hermandal said, ushering her through the front door. He indicated for her to enter before following her inside.
The shopkeeper was a little taken back by their appearance but did well not to mention it, bowing to each of them in turn.
“What about something like this,” Hermendal was staring at a black and gold tea service.
“I was hoping for something a little brighter.”
On the wall opposite was a display of three partial tea sets. One each in red, green and yellow.
“How are you finding life as a married woman?” he said. “Generally?”
“Challenging. It doesn’t help that I can barely speak the language.”
Hermendal asked the shopkeeper if they could examine the green tea pot and the man gestured for him to help himself.
“Well, it looks as though you’re going to get plenty of opportunity to learn,” he said, turning the teapot over in his hands.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got far too much to be getting on with. Once I manage to find a way of getting through those checkpoints …”
Hermendal cut her off before she could finish. “You don’t get it do you? That’s not going to happen now.”
“Why ever not? I’m sure Sunderam could help somehow.”
Hermendal looked at her as though he was speaking to an idiot.
“No, Elsbeth. I’m sorry, but that’s just not going to happen. Don’t you see, you gave all that up when you married Bayas.”
Cry of War: A Military Space Adventure Series Page 12
