Jensen laughed. “All the way. Without her, you would have no one backing you, and your station would be about to suffer a surprise attack. But consider this: if Westorn wins, having Dr Burnett will do you little good – especially if your station is hyperspace-ready. He’ll find USNA warships, and make the station a well-protected military base from which he’ll hunt down Family and TPC shipping, subordinating those ships to his will. You’ll need every fighter you can get.”
Christy put her weapon away. “You haven’t answered my question, Frank. What do we have in the way of weapons?”
“Most of us are armed. We took away the guns of those we killed on Topside One. Mostly, we have pistols, though some assault rifles. I won’t lie to you; we’re going in at a decided disadvantage.”
Nakamura indicated a compartment on his seat. “I can add six weapons to the mix – three slug-throwers and three needle guns. We have the slug-throwers for problems we might face on a planet. The needlers are for space. You really don’t want to fire something that can penetrate a bulkhead or damage equipment on a shuttle – or space station, for that matter.”
Jensen checked his own seat, opened the compartment and pulled out the two weapons there. Christy did the same. She came up with the two weapons, and two spare magazines for each one.
“I’ll just hand these out to the troops,” Jensen said, and undid his harness. He took the two guns from Nakamura, the two from Christy and left them.
“He for real?” Nakamura asked as soon as they were alone.
“He’s for real. Westorn tried to indoctrinate all of your passengers, but failed. He used a perversion of my language-learning protocols. Then he invited me up here so I could help him finish the job. I came because Frank knew that Westorn wanted to either finish indoctrinating them or kill them. Frank wanted to escape to one of the colony worlds, but this came up first.”
Nakamura changed resolution on the detectors as they approached Haida Gwaii. “Then he has no love for the Colonel?”
“None whatsoever. Westorn tried to eliminate them when he found out he couldn’t finish indoctrinating them. They have a score to settle with him.”
The icon representing Westorn’s shuttle went red on the end nearest to Haida Gwaii. Christy peered at it.
“What’s that?”
“She’s braking. They’ll try to board Haida Gwaii in about an hour. We’ll arrive about three hours behind them; I hope Haida Gwaii can hold out.”
She shifted her focus to the oncoming European Treaty Organization fighters. “And them?”
“About two hours after we arrive – if they change course.”
* * *
ANTON FLIGHT IN SPACE
Monday, August 30
The shuttle fighter sped silently through space. Ahead of them, the image of a life-pod heading for Family Trade Ship Venture grew.
Müller wiped at his tired eyes. As yet, Schmidt had caused no more problems, but he seemed to seethe under a façade of calmness. Müller had taken the precaution to warn Kelner, during crew change, to not let Schmidt, under any circumstances, gain control of his weapons board. Oberleutnant Kelner had nodded, eyes serious.
“What point, now?”
“Hauptmann Schmidt cannot see past duty to a vanished nation, Oberleutnant.”
When Schmidt appeared, neither said anything further.
“Tessler, have you any signal at all from Command?”
“Nothing, sir. And those signals we do have from civilian stations on Earth tell of mass destruction. I doubt that a single major city on Earth survived intact.”
So, Hamburg no longer existed. His home and parents – gone. He forced himself to think of other matters than the now-dead friends of his youth who had believed in peace, who had wives and children to live for. And those in power had thrown all that away – for what?
“Closing on life-pod, Herr Major,” Schmidt reported. “One missile should take it out – its icon shows it from Topside One – an enemy.”
Müller said nothing for a while. His left hand, on the far side of Schmidt, where the other couldn’t see, tested the compartment carrying the needler. He might have need of it. His other surreptitiously turned on the InShip.
“The life-pod presents no risk to us. You call them an enemy, Hauptmann. An enemy of whom?” Müller asked.
“Of us, of the European Treaty Organization. They’re Americans, most likely; they destroyed Deutschland.”
Müller laughed bitterly. “They are civilian survivors. They attacked no one. We will not harm them.”
“What about your girl on Azores? Think she survived the American assault?”
Müller had tried to not think of her and Old Paulo. He hoped that they might somehow survive, but with a nuclear holocaust, that seemed unlikely.
“Killing innocent civilians will not bring her back, Erich.”
“When we get back, you will hang for this. I want the log to register my official complaint.”
“So be it. However, Hauptmann, you might ask yourself a question.”
Schmidt didn’t want to respond to that, but Müller’s relentless stare finally made the man speak.
“What question?”
“Exactly who will try me? Who will hang me?”
“Some of Command will have survived.”
“And what will they see as their major concern, Hauptmann Schmidt? Will it be court-martialing a crew that didn’t fire on civilians, or will they look instead to trying to find enough food to survive the coming winter?”
“They cannot allow traitors to go unpunished,” Schmidt replied defiantly. “Now, fire on that life-pod, or I will.”
“No, Hauptmann Schmidt, you will not,” Oberleutnant Kelner told him. “I control the weapons, and I will not fire, nor allow you to. Firing on survivors in life-pods constitutes a War Crime under the Geneva Conventions that the European Treaty Organization has signed. Those laws bind us. Any order to fire upon them constitutes an illegal order. Any officer who knowingly accepts an illegal order and carries it out will be charged with that crime.”
“You will not interpret the law for a senior officer,” Schmidt snarled. “Fire or turn over your boards.”
“I cannot; I will not.”
Müller took over. “Hauptmann Schmidt, I regret to inform you that you are relieved of duty. Report to the crew quarters. Consider yourself under arrest.”
Almost before he had finished speaking, Major Baumeister and Leutnant Tessler had appeared. With a furious look at them, Schmidt unfastened his restraint and allowed them to guide him to quarters.
Baumeister reappeared, and took Schmidt’s seat.
“We will have to put a constant watch on him, Karl,” Baumeister warned.
“What would you have me do, Erika?”
“He’s a danger to this ship and all on her.”
“Erich’s a good man – mostly. He’ll come around. I won’t execute him. Therefore, he comes with us to Haida Gwaii. If they accept us, then he becomes their responsibility. If they don’t, then nothing matters, anyway.”
Baumeister sighed. “He’s your crewman. Very well. But speaking of the Families accepting us, don’t you think you’d better let them know who we are?”
“I think you have it right.” Müller activated the transmitter.
“Haida Gwaii, Haida Gwaii, this is Major Karl Müller of the European Treaty Organization, commanding five shuttle-fighters now approaching you.”
“Major Müller, we have you on our detectors. Please state your purpose.”
“Haida Gwaii, Major Müller. We seek asylum. Earth has committed suicide. There is no further reason for fighting. Nothing is left there. We offer ourselves as defence for your station until you can organize ships to come and take off personnel. Our only hope of survival lies in getting to the colony worlds.”
“Major Müller, we have heard horrific accounts from both the surface of the planet, and from other stations and ships which were fired upon by fighters such as yo
urs.”
“We have heard and seen the same. We have full stocks of munitions, Haida Gwaii. We decided that we could not in good conscience participate in this madness. We fired on no one. We welcome inspection.
“Each of our fighters carries two full crews plus what support staff we could squeeze in. We did that so all could escape Earth before their ships got caught on the ground by the North American missiles. We urgently need to evacuate the extra people in order to properly defend you.”
“We understand, Major Müller. Please come to a relative stop close to Venture. She will send someone out to inspect you.”
“We copy that, Haida Gwaii, and will comply. ETA ten hours. Major Müller out.”
“Haida Gwaii out.”
Immediately after they ceased transmission, the life-pod made their own announcement. The life-pod would arrive at Venture some hours after they did. Karl turned to Erika. “And Schmidt wanted to kill those children.”
She chose not to comment, which relieved him. He didn’t need more stress at the moment, and dealing with Schmidt would cause just that. He ruminated on the possibilities, but that rumination came to an end when Erika saw something on the detectors.
“We have a flight of fighters – multi-national – coming up on the life-pod,” Baumeister reported.
Müller tensed. Then their flight leader, one Colonel Jacoby, made the same request that he had. They, too, had come to the conclusion that Haida Gwaii represented the only safety in a system gone mad. Either that, or they intended a sneak attack.
“I don’t find that likely,” Erika said. “The flight consists of deadly enemies, who’ve just spent the last day destroying each other.”
Müller hoped she had the right of this one, too. He relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes. They popped open just seconds later with a call from FTL Nakamura Shuttle Eight.
“Haida Gwaii, Nakamura Shuttle Eight. Topside One Shuttle One does not contain refugees, but USNA soldier-fanatics bent on capturing your station for USNA.”
“Gott im Himmel!” Müller exchanged glances with Baumeister, then they both looked at the NavTank as jamming from Shuttle One cut off the transmission.
“They will arrive at Haida Gwaii in two hours. The second shuttle will arrive at least two hours later.”
“How fast can we get there?”
“Four hours to five hours – she’s quite a bit farther away than Venture -- but we’ll have to expend most of our fuel to do so.”
“Pass the course change to the others. Tessler?”
“Herr Major?” Tessler’s voice sounded strained.
“Find a channel to either Venture or Haida Gwaii that those fanatics haven’t jammed.”
“Already trying, sir.”
“And patch me through to all fighters. I want to speak to every person we have.”
A minute later, Tessler gave him the go-ahead.
“Anton Flight, this is Major Müller. By now, you all have heard the situation. USNA soldiers are attempting to take over Haida Gwaii. We can either let that happen and hope that Venture takes us out of system, or we can keep our promise and help defend Haida Gwaii, thereby earning our place. I’m asking for volunteers. True, we are not trained infantry, but we have all had basic training – which is more than the civilians on Haida Gwaii will have had. And Haida Gwaii will need that training – and our weapons, such as they are.
“All ship commanders, take a poll and get back to me.” Müller cut the transmission, but kept open the InShip. “Everyone heard that? I wish to know who volunteers to go to the aid of Haida Gwaii. Those who do not, may remain on the fighter, but the fighter itself will head to the station immediately. We will shuttle those who wish it to Venture when possible – assuming the Families allow it.”
It took one minute.
“Major Müller,” came the call from the passenger compartment.
“Go ahead.”
“One hundred percent volunteered. Even Schmidt, who says he will gladly kill USNA soldiers.”
Müller smiled as those in the cockpit also raised their hands. “Good.”
“Anton-1, this is Anton-2. We all go.”
The other fighters reported back the same.
“Good. Enter new course; burn in ten seconds.”
“Still can’t get through to either station or ship, Major,” Tessler reported. “I wish I knew their other frequencies. All emergency and working frequencies jammed.”
As the fighters accelerated towards Haida Gwaii, Müller muttered, “I hope they do not misconstrue our intentions.”
TWENTY-FOUR
NAKAMURA SHUTTLE EIGHT
Tuesday, August 31st
“They’re there,” Jensen said, watching the icons merge. “I hope security has a plan.” The minutes ticked by, and the icon of the station grew closer and larger. Jensen turned to face the pilot. “I hope you have a plan, too.”
“Just watch. These shuttles have a little trick up their sleeves.” Nakamura flipped a switch and a light glowed red, then turned green.
“What was that?”
“We have a very small beam weapon. Useful against small pirate boats.”
Christy woke at that. “You’d use it on the station?”
Nakamura laughed. “No, it would do little damage in any event. But I can target the other shuttle.”
“They’re all off of it by now.”
“You’re probably right, though the pilot may have remained on board.”
He touched something else and a visual scan came up, superimposed over a grid-like interpretation of what it saw.
“There’s the shuttle.” He manipulated a targeting joystick until the crosshairs locked on the upper part of the shuttle. “And now…” he pressed the firing stud. The shuttle lit up slightly. “Done. Now we can talk.”
“What?” Christy asked.
But Jensen figured he knew. “You knocked out their antenna, didn’t you?” At Nakamura’s nod, he explained further. “They can’t jam our radio any longer.”
“Haida Gwaii, this is Nakamura Shuttle Eight arriving in approximately thirty minutes with reinforcements on board. Where do you want them?”
The face of a worried-looking woman came on screen.
“Ken, is that you?”
“It’s me, Jaswinder. The situation?”
“We have them mostly contained, but they keep expanding their area of control, pushing us back.” She appeared close to tears. “We’ve lost friends, Ken.”
“And I have help, trained, armed help. Where should we dock?”
“Bay Two. I’ll have someone meet you.”
“Can you send me schematics and a rough estimation of where the enemy is? My friends would appreciate it.”
Jensen nodded. They would, indeed. Better than going in completely cold.
“Coming your way … now.”
“Got it. Thanks, Jaswinder. Be there soon. Hold them. Out.”
* * *
ANTON FIGHTER-1
“Topside Shuttle One has reached the station and apparently docked,” Baumeister reported.
“I hope that the Families prepared themselves for this circumstance,” Müller replied. His eyes tracked Shuttle-8 as it closed on the station. He hoped it carried someone who might aid Station Security in the defence of their last hope.
The hours passed slowly.
“Nakamura-8 has arrived. Weapons fire from Nakamura-8 to Shuttle One.” She waited a moment. “No apparent damage.”
“Herr Major,” Tessler reported. “Jamming ceased. You can talk to either Haida Gwaii or Venture, now.”
Baumeister smiled. “Now we know what Nakamura-8 targeted.”
“Haida Gwaii, Major Müller, European Treaty Organization Fighter Squadron.”
It took a minute, but then the channel opened and he saw the face of a woman he recognized. “That’s Jaswinder Saroya – now Yrden.”
The renowned hyperspace theorist sat in command of Haida Gwaii? Could that mean that the station, i
tself, might travel in hyperspace? He had no time to ask that, but saw that Erika watched with the same excitement in her face that he felt. He turned back to the screen and looked at Jaswinder. She looked tense and worried.
“Major Müller, Jaswinder Yrden of Haida Gwaii.”
“Ms Yrden, we heard Nakamura-8’s transmission, and are on our way to your station to aid. We are not infantry, but have had some training and carry some weapons, though not for all eighty of us. You have merely to tell us where you want us.”
Yrden’s face relaxed into a tired look of relief. “Major Müller, we thank you for any aid you might render. I’m passing along docking instructions. You will come in on the far side of the station to ensure you do not dock in enemy-controlled areas.”
Müller glanced over to Baumeister.
“Receipt confirmed,” she said.
“Haida Gwaii, be aware that our burn to get there quickly will leave us very short of fuel. We will be able to brake and dock, but not much more.”
“Haida Gwaii copies. We can refuel your shuttle-fighters.”
“Copy that. Müller out.”
“Haida Gwaii, Colonel Jacoby. We have altered course for Haida Gwaii. ETA six hours. We echo Major Müller.”
Now, finally, Jaswinder Yrden smiled. “Thank you Colonel Jacoby. We welcome you, as well.”
* * *
NAKAMURA SHUTTLE-8
“Good thinking, Ken.” Jensen looked at the screen, which now showed the deck-plan of the station. “Can we show that in the passenger compartment, too?”
“They’re seeing it now,” the pilot replied. “I’ll give you a briefing – they’ll hear back there, as well.”
Jensen watched as the schematic showed deck after deck. Nakamura pointed out the extent of the invasion, where the enemy could go from where he was, what corridors he would have to use, and the access to other decks. By the time they had reached Haida Gwaii, Jensen figured that his people had a basic working knowledge of what they had to do, and he had an idea for a little ambush that he could pull, should Westorn be desperate enough – or just careless, perhaps not giving the station personnel credit for ability.
Not With A Whimper: Destroyers Page 20