by M. D. Cooper
It was surprisingly limp, and it took the pair several tries to get it to stay in place long enough to be strapped down to the pad.
Commander Evans took one final look around, surprised that, despite the disturbance, the refinery continued its work unabated.
I guess this isn’t the first time there’s been a little dust-up in here.
Seven minutes later, they had the octobot, as Lorra had begun to call it, at the shuttle’s hatch, and were both staring at the opening.
“This thing is totally not going to fit,” Mira muttered. “Not with half of it all solid from melting.”
The doe laughed. “Oh, it’ll fit. Hold the head.”
Mira complied and held onto the silver orb that the tentacles all connected to, keeping it steady while, one by one, Lorra stretched out each tentacle.
This was the first time they’d seen it in any configuration other than a jumbled mess, and Mira was surprised to see that not all the tentacles were the same length—and there were ten.
So much for octobot.
Most were only one or two meters, but two were almost five, hanging well off the a-grav pad.
Lorra folded those two back up and then nodded for Mira to enter the shuttle. Once she had, the dolphin lifted the mass of tentacles, careful to keep the longer ones from slipping free, and passed the bundle to Mira. With surprisingly less trouble than expected, they managed to get the slippery mess laid across the craft’s rear seats and held in place with the harnesses.
The dolphin shot her a concerned look. “Uhhh.”
Mira waved a hand for the doe to calm down before speaking to Janice.
“Shit,” Mira hissed aloud.
Mira nodded while finishing the preflight and initializing the liftoff procedure, and thought back to the stories her father and mother had told her of their adventures in days long gone, trying to think of anything that might help in this situation.
Janice sent a feeling of agreement.
The flight up to the ship took forever, time crawling forward at a snail’s pace. Mira and Lorra speculated over the origins of the not-octobot for a time, but eventually fell silent again, both watching the vector of the inbound Bozan ship and the time to rendezvous with the Inquiry.
At the twenty-minute mark, the corvette came into view, its orbit steady at five hundred kilometers above Kyra. Deciding she was tired of waiting, Mira initiated two extra burns to pick up speed and close the gap between the ships before braking again as they approached her ship.
The bay doors opened, and she cross-checked vectors with Emma before easing into the bay and setting the craft down on its cradle.
She rose first, slipping into the shuttle’s rear compartment to take in the alien probe once more before turning to Lorra. “Janice had one of the stasis crates from the food shipment brought in here. Get this thing in there and then meet me in the munitions loading room. We’ve got work to do.”
“You’re just going to leave me alone in here with it?” the dolphin asked, a real note of concern in her voice.
“I left you with it to cut it free in the refinery.”
“Yeah, but—nevermind. Of course. I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.” Mira placed a hand on the warrant officer’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. I’ll check on you if you suddenly disappear off internal monitoring.”
“Oh…wonderful. That makes me feel so much better.”
Mira opened the shuttle’s hatch, then dashed across the bay, still in her armor. She kept up the pace until she reached the ladder that led up to the small munition’s loading room sitting directly beneath the dorsal railgun.
On the deck sat ten kinetic slugs, each weighing over five hundred kilograms. When accelerated through the ship’s rail-cannon’s coils, they would pick up enough energy to hit their target with the force of a nuclear detonation.
However, it was not in the firing party’s best interest to have the slug remain intact when it hit; in that case, it would punch a hole straight through the objective and do minimal damage. Instead, the goal was to have the shell break apart, spewing a payload of depleted uranium rods through the target.
In this situation, Mira wanted them to do the latter, but long before coming into contact with the enemy ship. The desired effect was grapeshot moving at speeds high enough to shred the foe’s shields so that other weapons systems could then penetrate the hull.
She knew those other systems would need to be ready for the conflict as well, but the first step was the grapeshot.
An image came across the Link of the not-octobot in the stasis crate.
Mira pursed her lips.
Ten minutes later, Mira and Lorra were carefully packing the slugs with their new payload when Aqua climbed up the ladder, her gasp of shock entirely inaudible over the sound of plasma cutters working through uranium rods.
“Those bearings are important!” the chief said after half a minute of gaping.
“I know,” Mira replied, looking up and stretching her shoulders. Her helmet rested nearby, but otherwise, she was still fully armored, as was Lorra. She stood and stretched her arms overhead, fingers brushing the inner hull before she added, “They’re going to save our lives from
that frigate.”
“And what if I need them for the hundred things they’re actually for?”
Mira glanced at Lorra. “You left enough for basic repairs, right?”
“As you ordered,” the warrant officer said, her tone carefully neutral.
“There are enough left for servicing, not repairs,” Aqua shot back. “And we don’t have a full machine shop aboard, or titanium.”
“There’s the armoring machine,” Mira pointed out. “Could use its supplies if we have to. But seriously, Chief, our only goal right now is to get away from this Bozan frigate and get back to Bysmark. Then this bird is going to be overhauled and resupplied. We don’t need anything more than what it takes to survive the next week or two.”
Aqua’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine.”
She looked as though she were about to turn and descend the ladder, but Mira stopped her.
“How are the repairs?”
“Done as much as we can manage for now,” she muttered. “Our shields are at maybe seventy percent. There are some gaps in the double overlap from the umbrellas, so if you plan to get us shot at, you’ll want to see where they are.”
“Can we rely on them to stay up?” Mira asked. “And then make a jump?”
“Fucked if I know,” the engineer said, her response drawing a gasp from Lorra. “We should have gone straight home after Regina, not tried to slap together some repairs here.”
Mira took a step toward Aqua, her teeth clenched so hard she thought one might crack. “Another outburst like that, Chief, and I’ll bring you up for insubordination. If you have a problem with my leadership, feel free to file a complaint with my superiors upon my return. But in the meantime….”
She let the thought hang, pleased to see the surly engineer pale a few shades.
A second later, Aqua’s typical expression was back, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Will that be all, ma’am?”
“That will,” Mira replied. “See that everything below is ready for combat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Aqua slid back down the ladder, and Lorra swallowed loudly. “Stars, she’s going to have it in for me now.”
“She’d better not. You let me know if that happens.”
“Of course, ma’am, but she is really good at her job.”
Mira nodded, resuming her crouch next to her canister. “I know, but part of all our jobs is to get along and not kill each other before the enemy does.”
* * * * *
Nine minutes later, Mira entered the bridge, still in her armor, helmet tucked under arm.
“Commander on the bridge!” Janice announced as she rose from Mira’s seat.
The two ensigns straightened and nodded in her direction before returning to their tasks.
“We’re on our first burn, ma’am,” Janice reported. “We’ll be in position to fire the grapeshot in seven minutes.”
“Excellent,” Mira replied, taking her seat. “Anything from the Bozan frigate?”
“Not a peep, ma’am,” Brock answered, his brow furrowed. “I’ve sent them the standard hail, and nothing. I don’t think they really plan to talk about this.”
The commander nodded. “I’m getting that impression as well.” She glanced at Janice, who was settling into her normal station. “And the missiles?”
“In the tubes. I recommend we fire them while behind the moonlet, as we discussed. Send them around the far side so they hit the frigate in the flank after the grapeshot does its thing.”
Mira pulled the plots up on her console and confirmed that the weapons would be out of sight for most of their journey. “Lay it in.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
“Mir—Commander?” Brock asked hesitantly. “Do you really think you found an alien bot down there?”
She drew a long breath, buying herself thinking time before answering.
“I can’t speak definitively one way or another. It’s definitely unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. If we hadn’t just flown past an alien artifact last week, I would have dismissed the thought out of hand, but now, knowing what we know? It’s hard to say it isn’t. Maybe once we get into the dark layer, we can take a closer look.”
Emma cleared her throat, and Mira gave her an understanding nod.
“We will make it there. I promise.”
The pilot gave a half smile, then glanced at her brother. “You’re right, Commander. We’ve got this.”
Mira rose, her hands moving to straighten her tunic before she remembered it was still in the armory. “Well, I suppose I should hail this bastard. No reason to let them accuse that I fired without warning.”
“I think their attack in Regina and non-response here covers that,” Janice said.
“Still, better safe than sorry.” Mira nodded to Brock. “Set me up.”
His hands danced over his console for a moment, and then he nodded to her. “All set, ma’am. We’re broadcasting on a dozen standard frequencies.”
“Bozan frigate, broadcasting ident AZB-9910-C114. You are ordered to change course and leave the Khorina System by the most expedient route. Your company has been involved in known criminal activity, and records of our prior engagement in Regina have already been sent by probe to Bysmark. By the time you return to Regina, a full investigation will be underway.
“I say all of this to let you know that any aggression against us will get you nowhere. Moreover, it is all being observed by remote probes, and those records will find their way back to Bysmark as well. Continue down this path and you’ll see yourselves up for life in prison—perhaps even a charge of treason.
“If you do not change course immediately, you will be fired upon. This is your final warning.”
Mira wondered if she should add anything further. Finally deciding that the message was sufficient, she was about to sit when Brock straightened.
“Oh, that got their attention. I have a response.”
“Set up the channel.”
A moment later, the same man they’d spoken with in Regina appeared on the screen, and Mira quickly schooled away the surprise she knew had to have flashed across her face.
“I see you survived our little encounter in Regina,” the commander ventured, breaking the moment of silence that hung between them. “Have you decided to take a beating?”
“Such a brash young woman,” the Bozan captain said. “You barely survived against our corvettes last time we met. This frigate outguns your ship five to one, and that was before you took a beating at Regina.”
Mira glanced at the main display, which now showed the enemy ship’s range to be three light minutes. Close enough to begin seeding space with missiles, but still too far for energy weapons.
“I’m confident in our abilities,” she replied. “If you think we’ll be an easy target, you’ve got another think coming. Besides, attacking us is only going to make things worse for yourself. Leave this system and you’ll only have to pay for the crimes you committed in Regina.”
The Bozas commander leant forward, his teeth showing, but not in a smile. “And what if I don’t care?”
“Bozas isn’t a group of pirates,” Mira replied. “Your corporate overlords won’t be happy to have the Outer Alliance government tearing your company apart to find the rot.”
The man shrugged. “You seem to think that we’d give a shit. Now that we have the artifact and are unlocking its secrets, Bozas is untouchable. Everyone in the OA will come to us as supplicants.”
Supplicants? Does he think he’ll be a king?
“Alright then,” Mira said, shaking her head. “You’re clearly suffering from some sort of psychotic break—for that, I’m sorry. I hope that your ship’s crew is smarter than you, but if they’re not…well, it’s their funeral.”
She cut the channel, and sat, more scared than she’d ever rememb
ered feeling.
“I think you came out on top, ma’am,” Brock said. “Really good.”
The commander pursed her lips and glanced at Janice. “What do you think?”
The AI sighed. “I think that we need to adjust our firing patterns. As soon as we send off the rails, we need to boost hard for Khorina’s star. Let him follow us straight into its light. He’ll lose us in the corona, and we’ll do a gravity assist, coming around on a vector for Bysmark. It should be enough to hit the DL before they can catch us.”
“And if they have RMs?” Emma asked in a small voice.
“Then we’ll take them out,” Mira replied, inserting as much steel in her voice as she could. “We survived it before, we can do it again.” She turned to Janice. “Plot that course and set the firing pattern.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The burn was only ninety seconds away, and Mira alerted the rest of the crew to be ready for live fire. The grapeshot canisters were loaded, and the missiles ready to slip out into the dark.
Despite the fact that it felt like a fool’s hope, Mira couldn’t help but hang onto a sliver of optimism that her plan just might work. If the optimal amount of grapeshot hit the enemy ship, it would be equivalent to the kinetic impact of three rail shots. The missiles they’d let loose—twelve in total—were more than enough to destroy a frigate if its shields were down.
The real question was whether they could catch the enemy by surprise. The Bozan vessel had no other eyes in the system, no way to spy on what the Inquiry was up to behind Kyra’s moonlet. Normally, such a thing wasn’t possible; systems were so filled with probes and relays that, so long as you were close enough, you could see your enemy in near real-time from several angles.
Her hope was that the Bozan commander wouldn’t think of that angle, that he would be blind at a crucial time, and that that blindness would make him open to the sort of surprise that combat in the void rarely offered.
They slipped behind the moon.
“Missiles away,” Janice announced a moment later, followed by a series of low vibrations in the deck. “Rail firing. Four, six, eight, ten shots away.”
“Detonate, you bastards,” Mira whispered, watching the ten canisters on the forward display.