The Japanese government later admitted that the real reason they’d let the flame die was that the city of Hiroshima could no longer afford to keep adding on to the immense sea walls that held out the sea. The following year the ocean reclaimed the city but the significance of that moment was never forgotten.
Now he felt its relevance again as he faced an old demon square in the eye.
“Report?” he asked, pulling himself down to latch his maglocks to the boarding ramp. The ship’s first officer and chief engineer stood on the ramp studying the shuttlepod.
“We can tell there’s a nuclear core in there, but beyond that, not much else,” the engineer said, looking at a small hand-held scanner he carried. “Depending on how it is rigged, there’s enough radiologic material in there to produce something on the order of one hundred terajoules. That would be in line with the twenty-five kilotons they suggested.”
“Can we get it out of here?” the admiral asked.
“No sir. Not safely,” the first officer said. “Thompson says, if it’s tied into the pod’s inertial detectors, then repositioning with the docking arms might set it off.
“Do we know if it’s a bomb at all?” Nakamiru asked. “Could they be bluffing?”
“The pod itself is powered down so there’s very little electrical activity in any of its systems,” Thompson said, showing the admiral the screen on his engineering sensor. “However we can see a rather large magnetic field coming from the area around the core. That probably indicates something substantial is powered up, but without knowing anything about the design, it could also mean they left a mealpack in the oven, just to frak with us.”
“How much damage would it inflict if it goes off?” he asked.
“A mealpack? Not much,” the engineer said, flinching as the admiral unleashed his own nuclear level glare. “The Armstrong’s a beast, but the blast radius would probably cover seventy-five percent of the ship. Collateral damage would take care of the rest.”
“Should we evacuate?”
“All 7,600 aboard?” The first officer shook his head. “If we brought the Challenger and Archer in close, it would take days in the shuttles. And we’d risk getting them tangled up in the debris field, if the worst case happens.”
“Plus, both ships together couldn’t take in that many evacuees, even short term,” Thompson said. “Their life support and food production processors would only prolong the inevitable.”
“Our only option is to do nothing and pray that Cochrane won’t follow through on his threat?” the admiral asked.
The first officer shrugged “At the moment that’s pretty much it.”
The admiral clenched his jaw and stared at the opaque window screens of the shuttlepod. “We need ideas,” he said.
“I believe they may have a vulnerability we can exploit,” Odysseus-Solo said jumping in on the conversation. The admiral hadn’t gotten used to the idea that the program had almost unlimited access to private conversations.
“Go ahead,” Nakamiru said, sighing.
“My original code was designed to assimilate AA systems,” it said. “The Jakob Waltz computer is only a seventh generation system, therefore I should be able to infiltrate and access the arming commands for the warhead.”
“What if you’re detected?” the engineer asked.
“As my intent would not be to assume control, it is statistically improbable that I will be.”
“Statistically improbable is not the same as an absolute certainty,” the admiral said.
“Unfortunately that is true,” Solo said.
“Then we should give Katryna a chance to see if she can pull this off diplomatically,” he said, shaking his head. “Where are they now?”
“Just docking with the Jakob Waltz,” it said.
“Let’s give her four hours and then if we haven’t heard, we’ll consider your proposal,” he said. “In the meantime I want the hangar deck cleared and powered down. Move everyone as far from this section of the ship as possible. I don’t want any chance vibration setting this damn thing off.”
Coronado ConDeck: Outside FleetCom Lunar L-2 Shipyard: Lunar Lagrange Two:
“Deploy the boarding parties,” Commander Brubaker said.
A small science vessel in its original incarnation, the Coronado didn’t carry much in the way of spare manpower, so he could only put two three-person tactical teams together and leave anyone aboard to run the ship. He knew that was going to make for an ugly fight no matter how they scanned it, but they had to find, then secure Tana Drake and Edison Wentworth at all costs.
The much larger Seeker was dropping four more teams above their insertion point, so his teams would hopefully only need to cut off any potential retreat. Between them, they should be able to capture their targets. It didn’t matter if she was alive or not when the shooting stopped, although alive would be better since having her aboard as a hostage increased their chances of getting out.
A human shield was still an effective deterrent.
As soon as his teams were inside the station, they’d move to the central core and the Coronado would blast anything they could hit to provide a distraction and reduce the response his people were facing as they made their way toward the target. If they weren’t in the area between the insertion points, then it might get more serious, but for now he was dealing with problems one step at a time.
“Is anybody tracking that outbound fast-ship?” Captain Shaw asked, her face appearing on one of his screens.
“We’re not watching it anymore,” he said, glancing over at the weapons and sensor console, where his crewman sat shaking her head.
“It’s out of weapons range and doesn’t appear to want to reengage,” Shaw said. “Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
“I don’t think it ever fired a shot,” Brubaker said. “If it’s got no guns, it might not want to play.”
“Boarding parties are through the lock,” his first officer hollered across the deck. It was surprisingly quiet since they were beneath the weapons arcs of the station and well inside the assembly bay.
“Give them twenty seconds then lay down cover fire. Pick your targets for maximum effect,” he said. “And get on damage control while we’re in the eye of the storm.”
“Where’d it come from?” Shaw asked.
“What?” he spun back to face the comscreen. “Oh, the fast-ship. I think it came out from under our ass. It was in the assembly dock.”
“To risk that, somebody was desperate to escape, don’t you think?”
He nodded. The light going on in his brain dimmed his hopes of successfully catching his prey. “Open a channel to that fast ship,” he said, slapping his hand down on his console to mute the line to the Seeker. It was a long shot that they’d respond, but he had to try. “Coronado to retreating vessel. Stand down or we will pursue and destroy you.”
His weapons and sensor officer shook her head, putting a tactical overlay up on the main screen. A blinking icon showed the position of the ship he was hoping to catch. It was already over 2,500 klick out and still accelerating. “Maybe not,” he said under his breath.
“Coronado to retreating vessel. You are ordered to stand down,” he said.
He saw Shaw rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Even with her voice muted he could read her lips. “They’re not going to answer you.”
“The fast-ship’s requesting a visual channel,” the first officer said.
“They are?” he asked. “Put them through.”
Tana Drake glared at him from the screen. Her head was pressed back against an acceleration mat, but recognizable even under the high-g forces. She drew in a labored breath and hissed, “Fuck. You.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Coronado ConDeck: Outside FleetCom Lunar L-2 Shipyard: Lunar Lagrange Two:
“We’ve got another com coming in,” the first officer said, nodding at the screen.
The face of Admiral Quintana stared at him. “I imagine by now, you realize
you’ve got no exit strategy, since your target’s no longer on the station,” he said. “This would be a good time to surrender.”
Brubaker shook his head and made a slashing gesture signaling his com officer to cut the channel.
“He’s right,” his first officer said.
“Are the boarding parties still on the station? Then tell them to grab prisoners. Maybe we don’t have the human shield we came for, but if they can get any FleetCom crew on board, it will make them think twice,” he said.
“We need to get them out of there—”
“Just do as I say dammit,” he said. “We don’t have the firepower to cut our way back out of here. It’s our only shot at this.”
“Not necessarily,” the sensor officer shouted as she updated the tactical plot on the main screen. “Look at the RMC.”
It took Brubaker only a second to realize what was happening. “Hold that last order. Tell them they’ve got sixty seconds to get back to the ship or we’ll be leaving without them!”
Command Deck: FleetCom Lunar L-2 Shipyard: Lunar Lagrange Two:
“Approach to Ops, the Goliath is coming around and accelerating.”
“What the hell are they doing?” the admiral asked.
“Sir, the boarding parties are disengaging and running,” Roudini said from where he was watching the fighting on the security optics.
Quintana leapt to the same conclusion as the commander of the Coronado as he looked up at the main display. “All weapons concentrate your fire on the Goliath. They’re making a ramming run.”
“They’re still out of range, and we don’t have the firepower to stop it once it's close enough,” Ducat said.
“Get the interceptors on its engines,” the admiral ordered. “Maybe we can’t stop it, but we can frak sake slow it down. The longer it accelerates the worse it will be.”
“It’s aiming for our reactors,” Approach said.
“How much damage will it do if we can’t stop it?” Quintana asked.
The ops officer just shook his head. “Ninety seconds to weapons range,” he added.
“I need options,” the admiral said over the command channel. Silence spread across the deck like a blanket. “Somebody? Anybody?”
“All enemy boarding parties are off the station and the interceptors are engaging the Goliath,” Roudini said. The ExO sounded relieved his tactical teams had finished with the fighting for now.
“The Goliath’s engines are down,” Approach said, her voice carrying relief. “Terminal velocity is 620 meters per second. Tracking estimates they’re square on the number two reactor cluster.
“Shut them down and get the crews out of there,” Quintana ordered watching the lumbering mass of the RMC on the main screen.
“OpsCom I need some advice,” the approach controller said. “We’ve got a supply transfer shuttle inbound from Tsiolkovskiy requesting approach instructions.”
“We’re busy here, tell them to keep their distance and wait,” Ducat said. He turned to face the admiral and shrugged. “Isn’t that obvious?” he mouthed.
“Negative Ops, they aren’t talking approach on the station. They want to catch the Goliath broadside and see if they can shove it sidewise.”
“What?” Quintana said.
“Yes sir,” she said. “They’re wanting to hit it in the side and knock it off course.”
“Tell them negative on that, Approach,” he said. “We’ll have to take our chances carving it up.”
“The two gunships are boosting,” Ducat said. “Should we target them?”
“How long until we can hit the Goliath?” the admiral asked.
“Another fifty seconds.” The ops officer said.
“Target their engines as soon as they clear the assembly docks,” Quintana said. “Give them forty seconds of hell and then swing over to the incoming RMC. Maybe we’ll get lucky and cripple the bastards before they get away.”
“Admiral, the pilot of that incoming shuttle is asking for you personally,” Approach said.
“I don’t have time,” he growled.
“Sir, you need to take this,” she said. “He says he’s going to ram the Goliath whether we approve it or not.”
Quintana sat down at a console for the first time since the fighting started. “Put him through.”
“Look admiral, I can tell you’ve got a frak-ton of ugly aiming for you, but I’m carrying a load of volatile gasses. It’s not a lot, but should still go boom pretty good if we rupture the tanks,” he said.
“I can’t let you do that,” Quintana said.
“War is coming,” he said. “My wife and kids live in Freeport West and FleetCom’s our life and livelihood. This isn’t a choice I’m making lightly, but I know which side of the line I’m on. My engineer and navigator are buttoned into escape pods and once I’m sure I’ve got the bastard in my line, I’ll jump ship too. Just help me out by not cutting me up as I cross your line of fire.”
“Somebody do the math on that,” the admiral said. “Does he have the hit potential to make a difference?”
“Affirmative,” Boss said. The station’s AA was infinitely faster than a human at calculations, even if it was programmed to leave command decisions to human judgment. It was strange to hear it answer without hesitation.
“I just got the heading from your AA,” he said. “I’ll blow the pods for my crew and you can recover them after the mess is over. I’ll be in the third pod as soon as I get us squared. Scan sharp.”
“Good luck commander,” the admiral said, switching back to the command channel. “Hold off on targeting the Goliath and focus on the remaining ships.”
“Approach to Ops. The ship that was in dock four just lost an engine. They’re listing hard and not going to be able to get away unless they make repairs.”
The tactical plot on the side of the main screen showed the shuttle angling above and toward the approaching RMC. It turned and came in from behind it along an oblique line. The heading that Boss had supplied would scatter any debris below the station, and if the shuttle got close enough, it might work.
The admiral switched his attention to the image from the external optic and realized that the steering jets on the Goliath were blasting hard in an effort to twist away from the intended point of impact. A split second later the shuttle corrected and dove straight into the side of the carrier’s hold. An arrow piercing an elephant.
A fireball erupted from the side of the Goliath and tore the ship in two. Gouts of flame exploded through the hull on the opposite side, shredding both ships into molten shards of steel.
“All stations brace for impact,” Ducat barked. Thunder rolled through the station as the shrapnel scattered across the station. Most of the impact went below the reactors so the power and life support stayed on, but safety bulkheads slammed shut as sections closed off in response to hull ruptures.
“Do we see the third escape pod?” Quintana asked.
“Tracking says it did not jettison before impact,” the approach controller said. “The first two pods didn’t jettison either. It looks like they all three rode it in.”
Quintana nodded unable to find his voice. He closed his eyes for a second and just let it wash through him. Heroes most often come from the lowest ranks. In this case it was three nameless shuttle crewmembers that probably saved thousands on the station.
“Damage control teams we need an assessment,” The ops officer said
“MedBay stand by for incoming casualties,” his ExO said.
Both voices sounded strangely distant.
“Admiral, the Kitty Hawk is asking if you want them to give pursuit,” Approach said. “They’re on full burn and closing at about twenty-five minutes.”
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Have them go after the one that’s still got engines. Do whatever they need to in order to take them. While you are at it, order the crippled ship to stand down and prepare for boarding parties.” He glanced at the status board and checke
d the ETA on the second multicruiser. “If they refuse, tell them they have forty-eight minutes to change their minds before the Defiant arrives to destroy them where they sit.”
The words of the anonymous shuttle commander still rang in Quintana’s ears. There was no doubt that now it was an unavoidable certainty … ‘War is coming.’
Gateway Colony: Formerly Jakob Waltz: L-4 Prime:
“It’s late. Would you prefer to rest and then go looksee?” Jeph offered, watching Roja stifle a yawn.
“I’d prefer to get this over with,” she said.
“If you’re so motivated that you’ll hold my ship hostage to get us here, let’s get on with it,” Jeffers said.
“Understood,” he said, walking over to the galley. Anju slipped another syringe of his pain cocktail into his coverall pocket and made sure he got a full dose of her ‘I’m going to kick your ass when this is over’ eye contact. He nodded and winked.
Grabbing a rack of gojuice out of the coldlocker he turned and handed each of them a bottle. “It’s a long walk and you’ll want to have something to drink.”
The chancellor looked at Jeffers who just shrugged and took the bottle.
“Dr. Jameson, you look like an endomorph. Are you up to a walk at full gravity? We do have a spare PSE if you need one.”
“Full gravity?” The scientist looked skeptical.
“Actually, it’s Earth normal gravity,” Chei said, joining them and taking the rest of the gojuice rack away from Jeph. “9.8 meters per second squared.”
“There’s a spin hub down there?” he asked
“It’s artificially generated,” Jeph offered without explanation.
The scientist’s skepticism launched into full-on disbelief and he shook his head. Unlike Roja he’d ridden in the other shuttlepod and missed out on the disclosure of it being an alien facility.
“It’s about three quarters of a kilometer to our destination so if you aren’t up to a hike, I’d recommend you suit up,” he said.
Jameson shook his head again, this time adding an eye-roll for effect. “I’ll risk it.”
Fulcrum of Odysseus Page 21