“But we must be able to make some use of this, surely?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Whaites conceded. “Though it’s going to be a slow process and time isn’t exactly on our side. Plus, without the necessary munitions to back up this new intelligence, we could end up just spinning our wheels. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but that’s the reality of the situation.”
Schwartz closed the program they’d been consulting and stepped back. She was the executive officer. It was her job to find solutions to problems like these.
Only she kept coming back to the same conclusion. They were going to be so horribly mismatched in this encounter that the chances of them surviving it were looking less and less likely.
“Okay, so what are we going to do about it? We have to give the old man something.”
Whaites perched himself on the end of his console and let his shoulders droop.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m just tired, but I’ve looked at this from a hundred different angles and I keep coming up empty. I even thought about trying to repeat that trick we pulled off with Loki. Getting in close before we let rip.”
“Me too, but we paid a heavy price for that last time. No way we could take that kind of punishment a second time and survive. And, besides, our lasers just aren’t up to it.”
“I’d agree.”
“So, what are we going to tell him?”
Whaites ran a hand over his head and stood there deep in thought.
“Leave it with me. I’ll go over Vincenzi’s data again, see if we can’t manage to come up with something. Just don’t get your hopes up.”
“No,” she said. “I won’t.”
*
They were seven and a half million miles out when Thor finally spotted them.
“Sir, they’re starting to pull away.” Up to four-six-zero gees and rising.”
“I knew it was too good to last,” Faulkner said. “Increase speed to five-zero-zero gee.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And let the engine room know. We could be in this for the long haul.”
Faulkner probably didn’t see it but Schwartz did. The little exchange of looks between the various departments when he said that. They were all exhausted. They’d seen more action in the last few days than most spacers saw in their entire careers and so the idea that they were about to go through it all again was giving them all cause for concern. These were all extremely bright, intelligent people. They knew the current state of play as far as the damage to the ship was concerned and it didn’t take a genius to work out that a second engagement like that might well prove too much for them.
And yet, here they all were, taking the fight to Thor.
Yet, what was the alternative? If the captain was right and Thor was committed to destroying the Henrietta Gate, then they were honor bound to try and stop her. Schwartz had no idea how they were meant to do that and she seriously doubted that Faulkner did either. But, still, this was the hand they’d been dealt and they were duty bound to play it.
She went across to McNeill’s workstation, taking the opportunity to stand with her hand rested on the back of his chair. Her lower back was playing up and, since she was prohibited from taking any pain killers, she’d decided that staying on her feet was probably the best way to go.
“You were right,” she began. “You said they’d spot us when we got within seven million klicks. Congratulations!”
“It’s no fun being right all the time,” McNeill scowled. “Especially when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun.”
“I’m sure you don’t mean that lieutenant. Now, tell me: how long ‘til we can expect an intercept?”
“I’m afraid that all depends on how far this other guy’s prepared to push it. But if we were to model their response on that of the Loki, I’d say that we should be able to draw level in the next six hours.”
“And what about our engine capacity?” she arched her eyebrows to highlight the sensitivity of the subject. “Is that likely to prove a limiting factor?”
McNeill turned and looked at her reproachfully.
“I take it you still haven’t had that conversation with Commander Khan?”
“No, but I’m sure he’d be the first to let me know if something bad were about to happen.”
McNeill cocked his head to one side. “Really? I’m not so sure. You two could be in the same escape pod and still manage to avoid talking to one another.”
“Hopefully, we can avoid all talk of escape pods.”
“Really? Well, I’ve been speaking with your very good friend, Mr Whaites. Seems he doesn’t share your optimism.”
“It’s his job to be pessimistic about these things.”
“Yes, and isn’t he good at it?”
She decided to alter her approach.
“Look, Fin, this is no one’s idea of a fun day out. We’re just going to have to make the best of it.”
She decided to leave him with that and went over to stand at the rear of the bridge. There were some consoles there and she pretended to be consulting one. She didn’t know how long she could keep up this united front when she had so little to go on.
She’d laughed when she’d first heard the rumor that Faulkner was planning to use the Renheim as a battering ram. Strangely, that didn’t seem quite so funny now. He was keeping something from her, that was true. She just wished she knew what it was.
*
“What’s taking them so long?” LaCruz asked.
Markham didn’t even look up. “They’re building a bomb. I’m no expert but I expect these things take time.”
They were down in the bowels of the ship in a maintenance corridor which led down to the sewage processing unit. That way, they hoped to avoid any casual visitors. Just around the corner Hegazi and two others were working inside the makeshift tent they’d constructed.
“It’s been three hours.”
“I’m aware of that,” Markham suddenly sat up straight, his head swivelling in her direction. “But there’s nothing else for it. We’re just going to have to wait and see.”
“But the raiders are going to notice we’re missing. They’re going to come looking for us.”
“I know, but that can’t be helped. Rush these guys and there’s every chance they’ll blow the whole place up.”
“But sarge, I’ve promised these women …”
“Let me stop you right there, corporal,” in one sinuous move, Markham was on his feet. “It’s not your place to promise people anything. We have our priorities and we’re going to stick to them. We can’t afford to underestimate these people. Not after what happened to the Motar.”
LaCruz just stared at him. What was he talking about?
“You talking about the double-cross?” she said.
“Call it what you like but targeting her like that. Any way you look at it, that’s cold.”
“You saying that they fired on the Motar?”
Markham bent forward to better scrutinise her.
“I thought everyone knew. Sorry. Half an hour after the last shuttle left, they opened fire. Can’t imagine they’d have known much about it. She was a tough old ship, but she wasn’t built for combat.”
LaCruz’s first thought was for Ferguson. He was a little rough around the edges but she’d liked the man. And now he was dead.
“What about the brother? Noah. Do you think he had anything to do with it?”
“Hard to say,” Markham reflected. “But, that Saratova woman … what was it that Ferguson called her?”
“The Widowmaker?”
“Yeah, well. Ain’t that the truth?” he looked about him as if unsettled by their surroundings. “Which is all the more reason to let these guys get on with their job.”
LaCruz was starting to have a bad feeling about this and she suddenly remembered the way they’d gone about executing the people in the cargo bay. Barnes in particular. And now, by taking the keycard, she’d put Sylvie’s life in danger too, because as s
oon as they realised that the chemicals were missing they’d make a beeline for anyone who’d had access.
She may as well have just painted a big target on Sylvie’s back and left it at that.
They’d want to know everything that had gone and wouldn’t be particularly concerned about how they extracted that information. LaCruz felt like she’d just given the other woman up. Used her for her purposes before abandoning her to her fate.
A betrayal of trust, pure and simple.
There was no other way of looking at it.
Though, perhaps, there was some way of putting that right.
“What about the Marsh woman?” LaCruz said.
Markham’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her name.
“She’s not implicated in this, is she?”
“She’s in the cells with all the others. I can’t see the raiders leaving her out of this once they start asking questions.”
Markham’s face darkened and for a second, LaCruz thought she might have over-played her hand.
“She’s an intelligent woman. She’ll be sure to tell them what they want to hear. Besides, she’s not involved in any of this.”
LaCruz went up to him.
“C’mon, sarge. Can you hear yourself? Look who we’re dealing with here: kidnappers, murderers and rapists. They don’t need a reason to beat on these women. That’s the sort of thing they do just for kicks.”
Markham was angry now. “Then you should have thought about that before you got her involved.”
She couldn’t work out what was happening. She’d never seen him like this before.
“I don’t get it. What’s this woman got over you? You sweet on her or something? Is that it?”
Markham grabbed her wrist and the next thing, LaCruz had her knife drawn.
The pair of them stood glaring at one another before Markham released his grip.
“That’s not important now. All you need to know is…” Markham searched around, trying to find the right words. “Okay, very simple. This woman represents a very valuable asset to the Confederation and, as such, needs to be protected.”
LaCruz nodded as she returned her knife to its sheath. It was a reasonable explanation and, who knows, ten minutes earlier she might have accepted it. Only now, she’d seen the truth of the matter. This had become personal for Markham and nothing he could say could alter that.
“Okay,” she said sullenly. “I get it.”
“I don’t come up with this stuff, Jackson, I just do as I’m told.”
LaCruz opened her eyes wide, as if clearing her thoughts.
“So, where does that leave us? You want me to stick around here, or you want me to go grab Little Bo Peep?”
Markham walked around for a while, lost in thought. Something was playing on his mind, that much was certain.
“Okay. I still need to keep an eye on things here. So, go and get Marsh and, if you can, bring her back here.”
“But what if I can’t? What if they’ve already laid hands on her?”
“Then get back here asap and we’ll take it from there.”
They’d been at General Quarters for nearly four hours now and people were starting to get restless.
Schwartz had spent the bulk of her time going over the weapons packages they intended to use against Thor. Whaites had been as good as his word, attempting to utilise all the data Vincenzi had sent over and, while his ideas looked good, Schwartz couldn’t help thinking that they were going into this a little under prepared.
If all went well, Whaites reckoned they’d need approximately twenty-eight missiles to breech Thor’s shields, which left them with only fifty-nine missiles with which to mount their offensive. Of those, only something like one in four had any real chance of getting through to their target, meaning that they were relying on thirteen missiles to determine their fate.
Thirteen.
Unlucky for some.
That was the main reason they hadn’t yet launched anything - though that didn’t explain why Thor hadn’t.
“Don’t you think that’s odd?” she said.
“Their failure to engage?” Faulkner said. “No, not particularly. We’re not their prime objective. They’re focussed on the gate. If that was me, I’d be more worried about the sort of defences I’d face once I got there.”
“And that’s the thing,” Schwartz said. “Apart from a few weapons platforms, the gate has precisely zero defences.”
Faulkner turned to look at her. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“Really? Perhaps you should have asked Governor Ardent about it before she left.”
“I hardly see how this affects her,” he said, sounding impatient and frustrated.
“She was the one tasked with protecting the gate when it was first opened. Of course, it had its own defensive fleet then. Twelve ships, I seem to recall.”
“And what happened to them?”
Schwartz felt suddenly uncomfortable. “She sold them all. To the Yakutians.”
A pained look came over his face then. “I had no idea.”
“Hardly the sort of thing you’d care to advertise, but that’s what happened. No doubt while you were still … incarcerated.”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”
Faulkner’s eyes swept the bridge as though searching for something he’d mislaid. He suddenly seemed out of his depth up here.
“I imagine it must have been difficult,” Schwartz said, her tone softening. “Maintaining a standing defence force when the threat level doesn’t warrant it.”
“I suppose that’s the difference between politicians and the military,” he said with regret. “For us, defence must always be paramount.”
“Yes. Not that that changes things. If Thor does manage to get to the gate, a handful of defence platforms isn’t going to stop them.”
“You think they’ll target the nodes?”
“I’m not sure what their intentions are, exactly. All I do know is that they think they can destroy it. Otherwise, why go to all this effort?”
“Sir, we’re picking up another incoming vector,” one of the comms officers said.
“They haven’t launched weapons, have they?”
“No, sir, it’s not coming from the Da’al ship. It’s coming from the spinward side of Iscaria, of all places.”
Faulkner and Schwartz exchanged glances.
“A ship of some kind, I take it?”
“That’s correct, sir. They have a number of heavy freighters currently in orbit but with our scans compromised I’m, as yet, unable to identify her.”
“Thank you, Ensign,” when the man had gone, he turned to Schwartz. “What’s a freighter doing coming all the way out here?”
“Civilian contractor who wants to help?” she mused. “A Johnny Come-Lately who didn’t manage to get away with Admiral Winterson’s first lot.”
“I suppose. Perhaps their owners tried to prevent them. Only, now the captain’s decided they’ve got nothing to lose.”
Schwartz didn’t like this development. Didn’t like the idea of dealing with amateurs.
Especially plucky ones.
Faulkner said, “Until we know otherwise, we have to assume that they’re friendly.”
“Yes, sir. I just hope they’re not going to get in the way.”
*
LaCruz was running out of time.
It was seventeen fifty-three and the general curfew was due to start at eighteen hundred hours. Anyone who was out of their cells after that time would begin drawing all kinds of unwanted attention. The mission had been a bust from the get-go. The women had been taken, that much she did know, but other than that, she may have been staring at a brick wall. There was a possibility that if she chose to head off now, she might be able to get back to Markham before the curfew began. She’d be safe then but everything that they’d achieved up to this point would have all been for nothing.
She hadn’t even been able to get back to her old cell bl
ock. There had been a group of maybe five or six raiders stationed on the corner from where she was who weren’t letting anyone through. As long as she kept moving, LaCruz was safe - lots of people were hurrying back to their accommodation so she didn’t stand out but the longer she delayed making a decision, the more likely it was that she’d be picked up.
She had to make a decision. Haul ass back to Markham and go with the main plan or take a risk and try to track down the women herself.
While she was considering her options, someone came up behind her.
“What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you in your cell?”
LaCruz didn’t turn around. She cowered and affected a frightened tone.
“My cell’s down there,” she said. “But they’re not letting anyone through?”
The woman stepped up beside her. It was the woman known as Deetz, complete with dreadlocks. She took one look at LaCruz and then grabbed the flesh on the inside of her arm in a well-practised pinch.
“Is that right? Okay. I think it’s best if I escort you.”
But, instead of taking her towards the cells, she started dragging her in a completely different direction all together.
She was taller than LaCruz and, up close she could see that the woman’s head was shaved on either side. She had a prominent tattoo on her neck which looked to be some kind of sea monster. She also had a kind of retro-military look about her which LaCruz found intriguing. Like she’d made up her own branch of the services and then dressed appropriately.
After a few minutes of walking, LaCruz was aware of the crowds having thinned out almost completely and found they were in a part of the ship she vaguely remembered. But it wasn’t until they came level with the big pressure doors that LaCruz realised where they were: back at the cargo bay.
They didn’t use that entrance though. Deetz took her down a side corridor and before LaCruz knew what was going on, she was being propelled towards the door at the end, policed by two enormous guards. From the look of them they might have been brothers.
If LaCruz had been contemplating the thought of overpowering her captor, her chance had just evaporated.
Cry of War: A Military Space Adventure Series Page 27
