“What if the Lavorix got onboard the Tri-Cannon already?” asked Larson. “Couldn’t they inject their own control system and blow the crap out of us?”
“I already checked, Lieutenant. The Tri-Cannon was originally intended to carry its own crew, so there are interior facilities. None of the security alarms have been triggered – whatever the Lavorix were planning, they didn’t get onboard yet.”
“So how do we couple with the Tri-Cannon?” asked Eastwood.
“Fly in close and let the computers do the work, Lieutenant.”
“Those are the solutions I like, sir.”
“Aren’t we forgetting about the main armament?” asked Burner. “Or is the plan to skate happily over the thin ice of fate and rely on destiny to shoot down a planet breaking warship while we put our feet up and drink moffee?”
Recker stared. “Moffee?”
“It’s something new from the replicator, sir. Meklon coffee. Moffee.”
“If you ever say that word again, I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Sir.”
Recker took a breath, having been drawn away from what he’d intended to say. “I know why the main armament isn’t working,” he said. “It’s missing a component – something called the CX1 module.”
“In which case, we’re screwed,” said Eastwood, sounding deflated.
“Not necessarily.”
“You’ve hinted at a solution and now you’re about to tell us the bad news,” said Aston.
“You guessed.” Recker gritted his teeth. “Oracon-1. The component was due to be flown from there, but it never came.”
“Oracon-1.” Eastwood almost spat the word. “What were we saying about fate?”
“I know where this is leading,” said Burner. “We’re going to head out to this Meklon space station and try to recover the missing component. Except we all know that a spaceship component isn’t going to be something we can place into a suit pocket and escape with while under heavy fire from a thousand Lavorix troops and a fleet of their warships. The CX1 module is going to be big.”
“It is,” Recker admitted. “However, the final piece of the Tri-Cannon is designed to be dropped in through a hatch on top of the turret,” said Recker. “It doesn’t even need a lifter shuttle – it’s fitted with its own gravity drive.”
“How do we know the missing component didn’t leave Oracon-1 and get shot down on the way here?” asked Larson.
“We don’t. The last record indicates it was completed and being stored in an underground area of Oracon-1 known as the Lodor bay, from where it was due to be loaded onto a lightspeed-capable transport.”
“Oracon-1 is a long way, sir,” said Burner. “I estimate it’ll take us eighteen days at our highest lightspeed multiplier to reach it. Once you add in all the stopping and starting to keep the Galactar off our backs, the total might be closer to twenty days.”
“We’re not taking the twenty-day route, Lieutenant.”
Burner’s expression showed he understood. “We’re heading to the Gateway used by the interstellar.”
“That’s right, Lieutenant. Less than a day’s travel, you said.”
“Nineteen hours, sir.”
“We’ll take the Gateway to Oracon-1 and we’ll complete the Tri-Cannon,” said Recker.
“Assuming this unknown Gateway has a path to our destination.”
“It will,” said Recker confidently.
“This new mission sounds like a piece of cake,” said Burner with a straight face.
“A nice, easy one,” nodded Aston.
“It’s what we’re doing, folks,” said Recker. He bared his teeth. “So let’s get that Tri-Cannon tied to the back of the Fulcrum and get out of here before the Galactar shows up.”
Chapter Fourteen
The subterranean facility was not in a good state. Aside from the ferociously burning wreckage of two Lavorix heavy cruisers, countless broken vehicles and crates littered the floor, many of which were melted or part melted. The Fulcrum’s hull retained the heat from atmospheric friction, missile detonations and particle beam strikes, and the shimmering air around the battleship had achieved a temperature of several hundred degrees.
Recker was glad the gravity field generators were solid units and most of them had survived the engagement. If the ceiling came down, it would make the coming task much harder, if not impossible.
With the utmost care, Recker rotated the Fulcrum so that its stern was pointing at the Tri-Cannon. Beneath the three main armaments, a flat section of the weapon was designed to sit flush against the battleship. There were no mechanical couplings since these would not have been suitable to support the incredible mass of the cannon. Instead, the Meklon had fitted the Tri-Cannon with something akin to a reverse gravity field, which was designed to clamp the weapon tightly onto the battleship.
Once done, the main armaments would point forward over the top of the Fulcrum, and aiming would be done mostly by how Recker pointed the battleship’s nose, in combination with limited movement from the barrels. The result would be a similar firing arc to that offered by the Executor. It wasn’t perfect, but Recker could live with the outcome.
“Here we go,” he said, guiding the Fulcrum closer.
“A self-extracting update to our autopilot system arrived, sir,” said Burner. “The Tri-Cannon sent it.”
Recker glanced at a new text prompt on one of the navigational screens.
Tri-Cannon: auto-link?
“Hell yes,” he said, entering his response.
At once, the autopilot took over and guided the Fulcrum at an overcautious pace towards the Tri-Cannon. In the few seconds it took to finish, Recker watched the sensors carefully. Nothing went wrong and, with the gentlest of impacts, the Fulcrum’s stern connected with the Tri-Cannon, directly beneath the gun barrels.
Link success! exclaimed an update on the screen.
“Done,” said Recker, in case his crew hadn’t already guessed.
“Some new tie-ins are forming,” said Eastwood. “Clever stuff – they’re linking directly through our armour.”
“What tie-ins?” asked Recker.
“We’re sharing the Tri-Cannon’s propulsion output,” Eastwood said, not lifting his head from the screen. “Something else…” He lowered his eyebrows. “Our tactical systems are linked. If I’m right, that means we’re sharing mesh deflectors.”
“We saw four mesh deflector generators on one of the schematics,” said Aston.
“According to the data, those aren’t used for defence, Commander – I believe they’re part of the power system for the Shield Breaker.”
“How many extra mesh deflectors can we rely on?” asked Recker.
“One extra,” said Fraser. “Another five-minute cooldown.”
“Better than nothing,” said Aston. “Way better than nothing. Assuming all three modules are off cooldown, it means we enter combat with three lives instead of two.”
“Something tells me we’ll need them,” said Recker. “I don’t think the Fulcrum’s going to take much more of a pounding before major pieces start falling off.”
“There’s more,” said Aston. “Our three lower-rear and three upper-rear missile clusters are covered up and unavailable for launch. That cuts our firepower significantly. To replace them, I have access to sixteen nuclear launchers – each holding only a single missile.”
“What kind of yield?”
“Approximately two-point-five gigatons.”
“Holy cow!” said Burner.
“I don’t know what the Meklon intended to use them for,” said Aston. “They went to the trouble of fitting them to the Tri-Cannon, so they must have had something in mind.”
“You called it a kitchen sink weapon earlier, Commander,” said Burner. “Fire and hope.”
“Having seen the Tri-Cannon in action, I’ve changed my mind. The Meklon believed the nukes would add something to the mix.”
“We can discuss it later,” said Recker. “What abo
ut the sensors?”
“The Tri-Cannon has blocked several of our arrays and limited the viewing arc of two others,” said Burner. “Happily for us, the Meklon have installed arrays on the Tri-Cannon, the feeds of which I’m viewing right this moment. The overall effect is that we have lost no visibility.”
“I’m sure sensor placement was a standard consideration for the designers,” said Recker. “Even so, I’m glad they didn’t miss anything.”
He wasn’t eager to wait any longer than necessary, but he didn’t want the Tri-Cannon ripping free because he hadn’t run enough tests to make sure it was correctly attached. Since this was the first time the Meklon prototype had been connected to anything, it was possible the gravity field control software wasn’t properly configured and might require manual adjustment. He set Lieutenants Eastwood and Fraser to the task.
“Done,” said Eastwood within five minutes.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. There’s nothing overly complicated about it – I believe the Meklon have modified the control system from one of their lifter shuttles and scaled it up.”
“To cope with a four-billion-ton gun being towed during acceleration to 3800 klicks per second,” said Recker.
“Yes, sir.”
“And then entering lightspeed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about limitations, like keeping to 25% of maximum thrust?”
“No, sir. And with the shared propulsion modules, our top-out velocity will be a little higher.”
Recker trusted Eastwood and he trusted Fraser. Still, he had to be sure. “So I can pilot the Fulcrum exactly as I did before we linked to the Tri-Cannon?”
“Just be aware of the extra distance to the stern when you’re parallel parking, sir.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Lieutenant.”
Taking the controls, Recker fed in power gradually. The propulsion gauges jumped under the extra load and then they stabilised at the level he’d have expected if the Fulcrum were unencumbered. A row of new electronic gauges indicated that the warship’s control system was instructing the engine module on the Tri-Cannon to feed in exactly the right amount of power to compensate. The result wasn’t perfect, though it was close enough that it only took Recker a few seconds to adapt.
“The Meklon did a good job,” he said. “I can hardly tell the Tri-Cannon is linked.”
Recker increased altitude so that the Fulcrum was midway between the floor and ceiling. Although the Tri-Cannon’s three barrels were almost parallel with the battleship’s topside, he was acutely aware of their presence. The last thing he wanted was to damage them by flying too close to the ceiling.
With increasing confidence, Recker guided the spaceship towards the shaft. The fires gripping the Lavorix heavy at the bottom showed no sign of dying out and he suddenly felt concern that one of the magazines would go up. It wasn’t a common occurrence in the HPA or Daklan fleets, but Recker had no idea how much thought the Lavorix put into safety on their spaceships.
He increased speed and the Fulcrum flew directly over the wreckage. Above, the shaft was unmarked by the heavy cruiser’s descent, so perfectly had it come through the surface opening.
“We aren’t fitting easily through there,” said Burner. “That’s a 7000-metre diagonal across the shaft and we’re 6300 metres nose to tail, but too damn wide. We’ll hit the corners.”
“I’ve got it worked out, Lieutenant.”
It turned out that pointing the nose vertically up the shaft was harder work than Recker anticipated and he made tiny movements on the controls until the Fulcrum was positioned how he wanted it. He caught Aston’s eye and she gave him a half smile.
“Can’t be too scared to scrape the paintwork, sir.”
“I’ll do my best to keep it superficial,” said Recker. “Up we go. Be ready for whatever might be out there.”
Halfway up the shaft, he halted the spaceship in order that Burner and Larson could perform a limited-angle sweep of the sky. The Fulcrum was still linked to the local satellite network, but Recker had lost faith in that and he preferred to rely on his crew to give the all-clear.
“Nothing directly overhead,” said Larson. “There’re some drifting contaminants from the Lavorix ship which crashed topside, but other than that, I’ve got a good view into space.”
“Time to test the Tri-Cannon coupling,” said Recker.
The Fulcrum was protected by three mesh deflector charges, but he was in no mood for another fight. With all the damage the battleship had suffered and with its magazines less than half full, Recker wanted to avoid combat as much as possible. He had a suspicion every missile would be required once they arrived at Oracon-1. Eastwood had got it into his head that the space station was going to cause them real trouble and Recker couldn’t deny the likelihood.
Under full power, the Fulcrum accelerated up the shaft, creating a thunderous resonation as it tore through the air. The first sonic boom came as the battleship emerged from between the broken doors and the second came a moment later.
A glance at the rear feeds offered Recker the picture his mind had already painted. One side of the Ystarn facility was destroyed by the impact from the heavy cruiser. The Lavorix warship had smashed into some of the larger transports at such velocity that it had crushed and scattered them in every direction.
Many of the perimeter buildings were flattened and the heavy cruiser had come to a halt three thousand metres north, at the end of a gouge it had created in the stone surface. Thick smoke poured from the wreckage, partially obscuring the heat patches of red and orange.
Recker’s gaze didn’t linger. The enemy was defeated, while he and his crew lived to fight on. He kept the Fulcrum under maximum acceleration. Creaks and groans which hadn’t been present before reached his ears, though he didn’t know if they were a result of the Tri-Cannon’s extra mass or the damage the warship had recently taken.
This was the best time to test for failure and Recker didn’t relent. The nose temperature crept up and the Tri-Cannon began to ping his console with warnings. Then, the spaceship emerged from the upper reaches of the planet’s atmosphere and he gave it everything. Soon, the outline of Ystarn was visible on the feed, falling rapidly behind.
“Mode 2,” said Recker, switching the engines over.
A renewed surge hurled the Fulcrum deeper into space, though the serenity of the propulsion belied the savagery of the acceleration. The tension which had gripped Recker didn’t fall away, but he recognized it for what it was and stretched the muscles in his back, making his spine crackle.
“Nothing fell off,” said Burner.
“Nope,” said Eastwood. “And there are no new hardware warnings.”
“We’re at 3900 klicks per second,” said Recker. “Lieutenant Burner, you have our destination.”
“Yes, sir. We’re going to a place called Diyona. It’s so top-secret, the Meklon haven’t given it anything other than a name. I don’t know if it’s a solar system, a planet, or something else.”
“Nineteen hours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I guess we’ll soon find out which it is. Pass the coordinates to Lieutenant Eastwood.”
“Already done, sir.”
“Are we intending to perform another maximum velocity transition?” asked Burner. “Or are we launching from a standstill?”
It was a question to which Recker had no right answer, though he’d already decided. “We don’t know where the hell the Galactar is, but I’m sure it’s heading for Ystarn. We’ll gain some time by entering lightspeed at maximum velocity. We’ll interrupt the journey at eighteen hours and then complete the remainder with a stationary launch.”
“I’ve entered those instructions into the navigational system,” said Eastwood.
“Lieutenants Burner and Larson - keep watching,” said Recker.
“My eyes are never shut, sir.”
Recker let Burner get away with that one and didn’t say anything. Hi
s gaze fell on the countdown timer and the digits changed in what felt like slow motion. This time, he didn’t think the Galactar was going to appear, though he doubted he’d seen the last of it.
The timer went to zero and the Fulcrum entered lightspeed once more.
Chapter Fifteen
On the journey to Diyona, Recker ordered his crew to rest. For once, he allowed himself to go first and slept for six hours, which was enough to return him to a state of readiness.
Recker spent the thirty minutes after he’d risen in the mess area. Vance, Shadar and the others had been told of recent events via the internal comms, but some things were better said face-to-face. As usual, Recker’s words were greeted with stoic acceptance and he figured that the soldiers had faced so much already there was nothing he could tell them that would come as a surprise.
When the time came for him to return to the bridge, Recker stopped briefly at the replicator and had it vend him a tray of Meklon cuisine. After consideration, he asked one of the soldiers to provide instruction on how to obtain a cup of moffee. Just saying the word made him feel dirty.
“Press this and this, sir,” said Private Drawl. “Then, tap this symbol to increase the strength. Pushing this squiggle over here adds cream.”
Recker closed his eyes. “Meklon cream or normal cream?” He pushed the squiggle anyway.
“I’d say it tastes more like yoghurt, sir.”
A sip of the light brown fluid was enough to convince Recker that a collective madness was taking over the warship. He tipped the moffee away in disgust and stalked for the exit, carrying his tray with him. A final look around told him that Corporal Hendrix was elsewhere and he left the mess area.
Ten minutes later, after eating a tray of forgettable proteins, fats and carbohydrates which had been combined in such a way as to vaguely resemble grilled steak in some kind of greenish sauce, Recker spent a short time in discussion with Commander Aston before it was her turn off-shift.
“The Tri-Cannon’s two side guns each have a magazine with a capacity of six slugs,” she said. “The left-hand magazine now contains only five, since we shot one at the Lavorix heavy.”
Fulcrum Gun (Savage Stars Book 4) Page 12