Destroyer

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Destroyer Page 9

by Craig Martelle


  “Thanks for coming,” the colonel told them. “Whatever technology they’re using, they are able to defeat all of our electromagnetic wave systems, from ultraviolet and x-ray through infrared and beyond, all the way to millimeter wave, and even more importantly, it stymies the Etheric, too. So, we’re going to go old-school on them since we have an idea of where this ship is. We’re going to blast as much rock as we can toward them and look for the shadows.”

  “They can block waves but not physical objects?” Suresha asked.

  “Not just that,” Terry replied, “they are invisible. We can see stars through them, but the ship is solid, as we found when Shonna and Merrit crashed a shuttle into it after it disappeared.

  “Interesting. Sounds like a dark matter system. I wonder how they stabilized it? Is there any way you can capture it so I can study their technology?”

  Terry’s mouth fell open as he looked for the right response without sounding like an asshole. All he wanted was for the enemy ship to die. When they’d attacked the station, they’d relinquished their right to mercy.

  “We’ll do our best,” he finally replied in an even voice. Suresha seemed satisfied with his answer. She stepped back, crossed her arms, and looked at the deck plate, all the while mumbling to herself about the possibilities of dark matter energy systems.

  Terry turned to Blagun and Oscar, Structure and Supply. “Can we do it?”

  “The asteroid thing?” Blagun Lagunov asked as his reply. “Sure. We can load up asteroids in here. I suggest keeping the gravity off so they float. We can energize the buffers to keep them from bouncing off the walls. What do you say we partition out some sections?” He pointed at regular intervals to mime five separate storage areas.

  “Yes.” Oscar nodded and followed the pointing fingers. “Take a fast run and eject the asteroids, then back up and hit them with some firepower. They’ll already have some forward momentum, then you blast them into a billion pieces, which form a cloud of dust traveling through space at ten or twenty percent of light speed. Should smash into anything out there. What if the rocks destroy him?”

  “Wouldn’t that be something?” Blagun exclaimed, walking toward the hangar bay door. “You attack us, so we’ll destroy you with a boulder!”

  Terry saw the humor in it, and although he could hope, he expected to hit the enemy ship with overwhelming firepower the instant they could pinpoint where it was.

  “Something like that,” TH remarked. “Can you guys rig the forcefields to protect the walls and section off the stones we collect?”

  “Sure. With Smedley’s help, it’ll take about fifteen minutes,” Oscar replied. Terry gave him two thumbs-up, and they both hurried away.

  Mac lingered. “What are you thinking?” Terry asked.

  “Why?” the commander replied. “Why are they doing this? I saw your face when Suresha asked if you could take him alive. There’s no way, but how many other ships are like that one? There’s information we need, and there’s only one place to get it.”

  “The enemy ship.” Terry whistled his dilemma. “I know you’re right, but I also know that this jagoff fired on our station. I can’t let that go unpunished.”

  “What if they aren’t deterred by that? What if it only emboldens them to return in greater numbers? How many invisible ships can we handle?”

  Terry scowled at the series of questions. “I wish you weren’t right. What happened to the good old days where you killed your enemy in a fair fight, then everyone went on their merry way?”

  “Those days never existed.”

  “Dammit, Mac! Stop being right.” TH clapped the man on the shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to disable that ship and seize it for the information we need to better prepare us to deal with this race of aliens.”

  “And probably any other alien race, too,” Cory said softly from the shadow of a parked mech suit. “Aliens need to know that we aren’t a threat but we’ll retaliate if attacked, even though we prefer to talk first. I think more races than not will respond to a play-nice strategy.”

  “But these guys...” Terry was at a loss. No one had been killed, even on the station. “Maybe they are sending us a message of peace. I wish we spoke their language.”

  “Joseph?”

  “He was able to talk to Bundin before anyone else. Maybe, but that means we need to capture one of them. I would prefer all of them, after disabling their ship. We want their invisibility system. I’m sure Ted would love to tear it apart, and Suresha will be right there with him.”

  “Then why don’t you do that?” Cory wondered, followed by a single-shoulder shrug.

  “If it were that easy, it would already be done.” Terry looked out the open hangar bay door. “Kimber. Suit everyone up, and prepare for zero-gee and no atmosphere.”

  Kimber saluted and strode off to find the nooks and crannies the warriors had found to sleep. She’d get Smedley to double-check since they couldn’t stand to lose someone to carelessness.

  Not on her watch.

  “Let’s get some rocks, shall we?” Terry said as he headed for the hatch on his way back to the bridge. “As Lord Byron said,

  The night

  Hath been to me a more familiar face

  Than that of man; and in her starry shade

  Of dim and solitary loveliness

  I learned the language of another world.”

  As a Marine and a security professional, undercover operations had been his forte. Now was the time to use that expertise to battle an enemy who was better at hiding and better at staying in the shadows.

  But not better than me, Terry snarled internally.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Mine L7-23U has been disabled and reconfigured with a magnetic grapple. 24T is next up for recovery,” Katamara reported. He understood it was better not to try to keep secrets from the commander.

  Lord Mantis accepted the information without comment.

  “Grapples were installed on all the unrecovered stock.” With the weapons technician’s help, they were able to cut the time to less than half of what it took to convert a mine. They were finally caught up and able to convert the ordnance as soon as it was recovered.

  “Your work is setting the Traxinstall up for a decisive battle with the enemy. We’ll unleash these weapons in the right places at the right times, and the enemy will flee before us.”

  “For the glory of Myriador!” the technician shouted.

  The commander walked out of the weapons bay. He liked to check on the workforce personally. He assumed it motivated them when he provided personal encouragement.

  For the glory of Myriador, indeed. To memorialize Mantis forever. That was the only glory he sought, something he would never utter out loud. The crew and the ship would be soon be forgotten, but his name would live on.

  Forever.

  Lord Mantis strolled toward the bridge. One hundred and nine Myriador counted on him to lead them to victory and take them home. Their supplies floated out there somewhere, necessary provisions for the four-year return trip—unless they could secure a Gate drive like that little ship had. He was sure of it.

  Their scans had been inconclusive, but the power signature of that tiny vessel rivaled that of the Traxinstall. They might be able to seize the ship intact. A plan started forming in his mind. Would he need to destroy the enemy if he could steal one of their Gate drives? Then the massed forces of Myriador could return in days, not years.

  The thought was intoxicating.

  For the glory of Myriador.

  Terry and Timmons shook hands before Sue led the way onto their small survey vessel.

  “Smedley, stay at a respectful distance until we call you in to collect the rock.”

  The AI affirmed the order. The ship took off from Spires Harbor and headed straight for the nearby asteroid field. After a few minutes, they turned to fly parallel to the last of open space along the rocky belt within this sector of the Dren Cluster.

  “There’s an area
of smaller asteroids up ahead. We usually steer clear of it, since we need the quantities of ore available on the bigger ones. The small ones are dangerous, so of course, that’s what you want.” Timmons pointed an accusing finger at TH.

  “This guy has been here long enough, and I’ve had all I can take of him.” Terry chewed the inside of his cheek while he looked out the porthole at what had to have been a planet at some point in time. “It’s the only thing I can think of. The only proposal that gives us something to do besides wait around to be attacked.”

  “I’d rather be doing something, too,” Sue agreed.

  Terry activated the comm system in the survey vessel. “Ramses’ Chariot, this is Colonel Walton. Any change in the status of our intruder?”

  The response was dead air and silence.

  “Bundin?”

  More silence.

  Terry called the War Axe. “Do you have a fix on Ramses’ Chariot?”

  Micky’s voice came through loud and clear. “We’ll talk about how you abandoned the bridge without notifying me later,” the skipper started. Terry painted a close-lipped smile on his face but didn’t bother to argue. “We have a fix, although he stopped squawking the usual IFF—identification friend or foe—signal.”

  “He’s trying to hide from the enemy...” Terry didn’t finish his thought as Bundin’s deep voice broke through the chatter.

  “Ramses’ Chariot is on station. We have no hint that the enemy ship has done anything other than try to recover the remaining deployed mines,” Bundin explained before K'Thrall interrupted.

  “We have a dearth of data,” the Yollin stated.

  “Do your best,” Terry said. “And watch your asses. You’re the only target he has right now. Make sure you keep your shields in place.”

  Dionysus popped into the conversation. “The shields are not up, but this is a special ship, and the gravitic system can snap into place in six to seven nanoseconds. We know the ship has to appear to fire. There is a one-second window.”

  “What about the mines?”

  “Activating gravitic shields now,” Dionysus replied. “I should have taken into account the fact that four out of the five ships attacked were destroyed by mines. The surviving ship and the station were attacked by the plasma cannon.”

  “Can your shields survive a thermonuclear blast?”

  “Of course,” Dionysus said proudly.

  “Make sure we don’t test that out. Good hunting.” The colonel signed off.

  Sue pointed out the transparent aluminum window of the survey craft. The usual crystal clear image provided by cameras and viewscreens was replaced by something fuzzy and more distant. Terry liked the enhanced version, but he had a soft spot for the nostalgia of what he could see with his naked eyeballs.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “Bring in the War Axe and scoop your shotgun pellets into that big mouth that is the hangar bay door,” Timmons replied with an indiscriminate hand-wave toward the window before turning back to Terry Henry. “Why is this happening?”

  TH kept looking out at the window as he answered his friend. “I would like to know too because then we could address what’s got him spun up. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s him against us. I’d like to think the ‘us’ part makes us stronger, even though he has a tool at his command that gives him a significant advantage. Still, we’re going to win this. Smedley? Start collecting rocks.”

  The War Axe moved into the space vacated by the survey ship.

  Hang on, you bastard, Terry told the enemy within his mind. We’ll be there in just a few to ruin your day.

  “What is the big ship doing?” the commander asked.

  “Maybe that’s how they refuel,” the weapons specialist replied.

  “I can think of no other reason.” Mantis looked from the tactical display to the main screen and back again. “Since he’s refueling, prepare for Attack Plan Foiloes. A soft strike on the station and then we hit the shipyard hard, starting with the biggest first. Prepare to fire the plasma cannon, and move the ship out of the minefield. Once we’ve taken our five shots, deploy the magnetic mines.”

  “Lord Mantis, if I may,” Katamara interrupted with bowed head. “We could drop a magnetic mine on the enemy ship that is trying to tail us. It is different, and now, with its shields up, we can get a weapons lock on it. Their shields won’t matter under the fury of a sun’s inferno.”

  The commander considered the request while he berated himself for not thinking of it. In the end, only his name would be remembered, no matter who else contributed to the victory.

  “Make it so,” the commander ordered.

  Katamara nodded, his fangs clicking as he tried to hide his joy at contributing even more to the battle with the aliens.

  With his center hand on top of the globe and his side hands inserted into the weapons station, he rolled up the exact weapon to launch within the tube and sent the coordinates to the navigation station to ensure the heading was correct to send the mine on a ballistic trajectory toward its target. Final corrections would be made by the mine itself through activation of the magnetic grapples.

  He also started the process of producing the plasma and charging the cannon’s capacitors. It could handle the first four shots without recharging, but the fifth would come only after additional power was added. The fifth shot was always taken at a closer range because it was weaker, but by that point, the enemy would have been crippled. The last round was the death punch. A battleship still floated in the shipyard, having sustained all five impacts from the plasma cannon. The station was much larger and would take a while.

  But they had time.

  The Traxinstall started to move, casually and gracefully. It assumed a course directly for the energy signature nearby. For its small size, the amount of energy it generated was astounding.

  “Slower,” Katamara requested. The ship slowed appreciably. The weapons specialist wanted the mine to arrive at the enemy ship when they were ready to engage the station—two attacks that would appear to be simultaneous to confound the enemy. “Mine is released and tracking.”

  “To the station, mid-speed,” the commander ordered.

  Like an arrow seeking the bullseye, the weapon with its magnetic terminal guidance flew through the void of space, shielded from prying eyes, unerring in its mindless mission of destruction.

  “An anomaly straight ahead.” Dionysus broke the silence and boredom infecting the bridge.

  “Report,” Bundin ordered.

  “No mech suits on board,” B’Ichi said from the corridor beyond. Bundin waved his tentacle arms at the Keome to plead for silence.

  “It registered as an energy signature no brighter than a handheld light, disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared,” Dionysus explained. “Launching a drone and taking evasive action.”

  Without waiting, the ship lurched and dove, accelerating toward a Gate that appeared at a ninety-degree angle to their previous course. It bolted through, and the Gate slammed shut behind them. An instant later, they appeared on the far side of the shipyard, close to where the War Axe was loading up on asteroids.

  “What was your analysis?” K’Thrall wondered.

  “The energy signature traced a short line that was headed directly toward us. The drone will mimic our profile. Let’s see if that was what I think it was.”

  “Enlighten us, please,” Bundin requested.

  “Wait for it,” Dionysus said, expanding the image showing the space where they’d been on the screen. It looked black, with faint stars in the background. The screen flared white before returning to its normal image of interstellar space.

  “Share that signature and all details with every ship of the fleet.” Bundin gestured with one tentacle arm toward the main screen.

  “Already done, Corporal.”

  “That alone was worth taking Ted’s ship and facing his wrath,” K’Thrall suggested.

  “You’ve never faced Ted’s wrath before, I suppos
e.” Bundin started to wave his arms again while his stalk head swayed. A low and slow rumbling filled the corridor.

  “Is that two slices of humor in one day from our squad leader?” Slicker turned to face her fellow four-legged squad member. “Where has Corporal Bundin gone?”

  “Thanks for trying,” Bon tap added. “It makes a big difference, and thank you, Dionysus. I don’t think this ship would have survived that blast.”

  “It was significantly greater than I anticipated, although there was a seventy-four point two percent chance that the shields would have held.”

  K’Thrall stopped what he was doing and stared in shock. “We had a one in four chance to die one minute ago, and Bundin is making jokes?”

  “But we didn’t die,” Bundin replied casually in his slow, even, mechanically accentuated voice.

  “I love that!” the Ixtali exclaimed.

  “What did I miss?” B’Ichi asked. “And when’s lunch? Did anyone make sure we had food?”

  Chris held his hand over his heart. “We’ve survived to fight another day, but we learned something important. I’m good with that. If I get the term right, it’s what us grunts do: sacrifice for the greater good, using our bodies as shields before an advancing tyranny.”

  “We almost died!” K’Thrall had been less excitable on the War Axe, but his near brush with death when none of his compatriots were Captain San Marino or Colonel Walton made him warier of his mortality.

  “You’ve been watching too many movies,” Bon Tap told Chris.

  “Where are we headed?” Slikira asked. “If the enemy ship was coming at us, he was moving. It’s not a stretch to think he’s headed back toward the station.”

  “He’s already there,” Dionysus reported ominously.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Fire.” The commander sat back and watched as the ship transitioned beyond the shield, fired, and disappeared back under its cloak.

 

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