“Great minds think alike.” The older Marine paused. “I noticed we don’t seem to have too many squids on this boat. What’s the deal? My guys can’t repair it if we get shot up.”
“Even with the enhancements to life support the contractors made… we still need every bit of oxygen and CO2 scrubber capability to ensure the troops are in top shape.” The specter of Marines degraded by CO2 poisoning was one not lost on Mancini. He’d seen the effects of elevated gas levels before in his years of service. They were akin to being drunk.
“Fair point. So don’t get it damaged, then.”
“Oh, I plan to blow it apart myself when we’re done with this op.”
“Once the spooks get the computer cores, of course.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, Colonel. Sit back and enjoy the ride.” Mancini turned toward the navigator, who manned the League-configured helm station. “Navigation, confirm Lawrence drive jump coordinates.”
“Conn, navigation. Confirmed, sir.”
“Navigation, execute Lawrence jump.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
A few moments later, the lights flickered for a brief moment as the small destroyer started the buildup of energy that would soon result in the formation of a stable artificial wormhole between two points in space. As the maw of the construct—a massive kaleidoscope of color—formed, the ship accelerated and flew through.
“Conn, TAO. Sensors coming online, sir,” Oleson reported. “No contacts within one hundred thousand kilometers. We’re about a million kilometers from the shipyard and inside the normal shipping channel.”
“So far, so good,” Mancini uttered. Within, his heart pounded in his chest. “Navigation, ahead fifty percent thrust, ease us toward the station. Communications, transmit a request for docking permission per the format our POWs indicated.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the communications officer quickly replied.
The increase in forward speed barely registered with inertial damping fields fully functional. Mancini put his head back and waited.
“Conn, communications. They acknowledged our message, and we’re in the cue.”
Mancini let out a deep breath. “Okay. Sixty minutes to show time, people. Stay alert. Our position could be compromised at any moment.” A part of him was speaking, just to hear his voice. A career spent serving on and now commanding stealth raiders helped build the character of steel required to sit in an enemy star system and be cool as a cucumber. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead. Who am I kidding? I’m terrified we’re going to be discovered too soon. In the end, even if they died, long as they accomplished the mission, it’d be worth the cost.
Time, as slow as it appeared to be for those on the captured destroyer, marched on. Second after second, minute after minute, the speck in the distance that was the Leaguer’s shipyard facility got larger. At ten thousand kilometers, it got real. Mancini glanced up from the plot and pulled his uniform tunic down, smoothing it out. “TAO, trigger charge number one on our hull.”
“Aye aye, skipper.”
A moment later, the ship rocked violently. A remote-controlled explosive device went off, blowing out the starboard lateral thruster fuel line. Jets of flame shone into the void of space. All in all, it was a convincing ruse.
“Conn, communications, I’ve got an audio/visual transmission from the station.”
“Put it on, audio only.” The moment the comms officer nodded his head, Mancini continued. “This is Lieutenant Commander Decker, declaring an emergency. We’ve lost our starboard thruster control and need immediate docking instructions.”
A voice crackled through the speaker in his chair in heavily accented Russian. “Say again?”
“I’ve got a zero-G fire here. It's out of control, and we need firefighting and engineering assistance immediately. Please, clear us for an open bay. I fear loss of the vessel and its socialized crew.” Maybe some Leaguer buzz words will help. Mancini couldn’t help but smirk.
“Understood. Proceed to the nearest starboard docking bay, seven alpha. We are opening the doors.”
Mancini made a cutting gesture across his throat, and the comm officer nodded.
“Please, tell me it’s not that easy to hoodwink a station full of League military officers,” Calvin deadpanned.
“Well, in their defense… what’s a more likely truth? Our ship is what it says it is, or we’re here to invade and destroy them, express delivery from the Terran Coalition?”
Calvin chuckled. “Fair point. I suppose I’d better get out of your hair and back down to my Marines.”
“Godspeed, Colonel.”
“Godspeed to you too, Major. Stay safe up here.”
With that, Calvin disappeared out of the aft hatch toward the small cargo bay. For reasons Mancini couldn’t readily explain, once the Marine was gone, it was as if a bit of the crew’s bravado went with him. The range continued to close with the station, and over the next couple of minutes they lined up to the opening space doors.
“Conn, communications. Sir, I’m not sure we’ll be able to transmit once we’re inside the shipyard. I’ve scanned the hull, and it’s made out of extremely dense material, coupled with a damping field for emissions control.”
That revelation got Mancini’s attention. He found himself wishing he’d brought Godat along to help reason through these sorts of problems. But most of the crew was back on the Tucson. “Prepare burst transmission with our codeword, comms.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Improvisation. A useful skill, but one I’d rather not use less than two dozen light-years from Earth. The distance to the station decreased with every passing moment, until they were moving at just five meters per second and were directly outside of the station’s hull. Engineering tugs had gathered and appeared to Mancini to be taking up position to douse their zero-G fire. Excellent. They bought it, hook, line, and sinker.
“Conn, TAO. We’re passing into the station’s force field now, sir,” Oleson interjected.
“Communications, transmit the message, now.”
Time again seemed to slow, and a good fifteen seconds passed. “Sent, sir.”
“Did it get through?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
Oleson turned around in his seat and cracked a grin. “We’ll know soon enough, sir.”
“Amen. Signal Demood, he’s got a green light as soon as they lock the docking clamps on,” Mancini replied. “Then we pray.”
* * *
“Conn, communications,” Taylor said. “One-word transmission from Major Mancini. Message reads: Goliath.”
David’s head snapped around. He’d been deep in thought as the mission clock continued its march onward. “Does it authenticate, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir.”
With a final glance at Ruth, he punched the button on the CO’s chair for 1MC. “Attention all hands, this is General Cohen. General quarters, general quarters! Set condition one throughout the ship. All hands, man your battle stations. I say again, man your battle stations. This is not a drill.” The alarm klaxon blared, an ear-splitting sound loud enough to wake the dead, while at the same time, the lights on the bridge dimmed and turned blue.
“Conn, TAO. Condition one set throughout the ship, sir,” Second Lieutenant Victoria Kelsey, the Lion’s second watch tactical officer, reported from her console.
It all came together in David’s mind as he took in the information displayed on his console and readiness indications from across the fleet of ships. “Navigation, reconfirm Lawrence drive coordinates.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond said. A moment later, she continued. “Coordinates confirmed, sir. All ships in formation report ready.”
The six Constantine class anti-matter cruisers will jump in formation, while Aibek takes up the rear. David still didn’t like leaving his friend behind, unprotected by the rest of the ships. He forced those thoughts out of his mind and punched the intercom button for engineering. “Engineering, status of power shunt to La
wrence drives?”
“Ready on your command, sir,” Hanson’s voice crackled through the commlink.
“Engage the shunt.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Receiving maximum power from the anti-matter reactor, sir,” Hammond called out.
David leaned forward. “Navigation, activate Lawrence drive.” Come on, Lion. One more small miracle.
Almost immediately, the deck plates began to hum. Typically, the stress on the hull didn’t rise above what would be considered minor by a military engineer. As power built up in the artificial wormhole generator, the hum turned into a whine. Outside of the ship, visible through the transparent alloy “windows” on the bridge, the bright maw of a tunnel through space itself opened. Seven others joined it. A kaleidoscope of colors filled the blackness of space, with breathtaking beauty.
“Navigation, take us in.”
The massive warship started to move as its engines came to life. It picked up speed as the forward thrust continued and plowed into the visual display. A second later, the Lion emerged on the other side. Unlike most other jumps, the level of turbulence was high. Anything not secured into a console flew. The few enlisted ratings that weren’t seated found themselves knocked on the floor. Sparks exploded from an overloaded console, aft of the CO’s and XO’s chairs.
“TAO, report.”
“Sensors coming online, sir.”
Data flowed into David’s tactical viewer, along with an astrological map of their current location—Teegarden solar system, well within the Lawrence limit of the planet the shipyard orbited.
“Conn, TAO. Sensors online, no hostile warship contacts, populating the board with enemy orbital assets. All friendly vessels transited successfully and are designated Sierra One through Seven.”
We did it. Holy crap, we did it. For a moment, David allowed himself pride at the execution of the crew to get them as far as they’d come. Before he could get out his next set of orders, the intercom went off.
“Conn, engineering. This is Hanson. We’ve got a situation down here.”
Ruth and David both turned toward the speaker in unison.
“Damage report, Major?” Ruth barked.
“The jump in generated exotic particles that overloaded our Lawrence drive, and the anti-matter reactor. We’re going to have to run off the secondary fusion reactors until I can,” Hanson cut off mid-word, with a crash heard in the background, followed by a string of curses. “We’re working the problem, sir, got to go. Hanson out.”
David’s face went white as a sheet as he realized the implication. They couldn’t jump out, nor could they fight effectively. My God, I’ve led us into a disaster. For a moment, panic threatened to take over his mind. Then the tried and true training kicked in, coupled with decades of military experience. “XO, monitor the situation in engineering, and redirect additional damage control teams to the reactor room.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth replied.
“Navigation, hold position, station-keeping thrusters only.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond called back.
With a glance at the tactical plot, David forced himself to stay calm and focused. Work the problem at hand. We’ll be fine once the reactor is back online, and we’ll engage our target. For now, I must trust in the rest of the fleet to carry the day. The screen above him showed the Constantine class heavy cruisers bearing down on their respective targets: the League’s fighter garrisons.
16
Alarms sounded throughout the Lion’s main engineering space with its four-deck-tall anti-matter reactor. Hanson, Merriweather, and Hayworth were huddled around a console for matter/anti-matter fuel injection control. A sudden release of vapor from one of the primary coolant lines triggered a new alarm, coupled with flashing yellow warning strobe lights.
“I’m reading high energy gamma-ray release,” Hanson shouted. “Break out the radiation suits now!”
Even Hayworth appeared worried as he narrowed his eyes to stare at the screen. “We’ve got to reestablish control over containment or we could lose the ship. These damn exotic particles destroyed the wrong systems at the wrong time. We’re on tertiary backups, and they’re not functioning properly.”
Merriweather said nothing, staring at screen after screen of piping status. “Guys, look at this. There’s a leak in the primary coolant tube under the reactor. The fluid isn’t reaching the condenser chamber.”
“There’s no way to get at that with the reactor online, and we can’t shut it down from here,” Hanson replied. “We’re going to have to eject it.”
“Don’t be a blithering idiot, Major,” Hayworth practically shouted. “If we do that, we’ll be stuck here for the League to run down.”
“Got a better idea, doc? Because right now, we’re looking at losing the ship. We need to tell the General to start evacuating personnel, now.”
Hayworth stood, pulling himself up to his full height. “Get me a portable structural integrity force-field generator.”
“Why?” Merriweather asked in bewilderment.
“Because I can program its forcefield to wrap around the coolant tube and give us enough time to repair the damage and save the ship,” he replied quietly.
“I’m coming with you, doc,” Hanson interjected as he turned around and opened a locker containing emergency radiation suits. They were stripped down power armor suits lined with lead; extremely heavy, they were a tried and true defense. He quickly tugged the trousers up, then pulled the top half of the suit down. “Merriweather, help the doctor into his.” Without waiting for a reply, he took off toward a nearby storage locker and keyed in his command code. It popped open, and it was only a few seconds for him to find his quarry: the portable force-field generator.
“This suit’s only going to slow me down,” Hayworth groused as Merriweather put the helmet on his head.
Hanson forced a smile. “Yeah, well, neither one of us is Superman. Come on, doctor. We’re on the clock.” Breathe. In and out. You can do this. We’ll be fine.
The two men climbed down two stories via an alloy ladder to the base of the reactor. Once there, Hayworth entered his access code into the security hatch that led to the interior of the coolant system.
“Major, what are you doing?”
Hanson turned to see Second Lieutenant Doris Hunter standing there above them, hands on her hips.
“You can’t go in the core, even with a suit on. They taught me that in OCS.”
“We’re not going into the core, Hunter. Just the coolant tubes. Would you come down and spot us? I’m particularly worried about the doctor getting too high of a gamma-ray dose.”
“Yes, sir, Major!”
Her carefree approach had always impressed Hanson. I guess when you lose three limbs in an explosion, saving the ship in the process, life takes on a different meaning. “Door, doc. Now.”
A few moments later, the massive lead-lined door to the inner reactor housing swung open. Hayworth struggled with its weight but seemed to take some pleasure in moving it. “I suppose I could do to work out more.”
Hunter slid down the ladder and jumped off. “Be careful in there, guys.” She bit down on her lower lip.
With a nod, Hanson then rushed in, followed closely by Hayworth. The hatch closed behind them, a security measure to prevent radiation exposure. Once it was secure, the inner door cycled and opened. To the right was another set of hatches that led to the energized core. To enter there was certain death. And now for what’s behind door number two.
“Here. If we set it here, I can project the field under the reactor, into the tubes,” Hayworth said, pointing to a spot on the alloy deck.
The heat was nearly unbearable. Due to the ambient temperature of the room itself coupled with the weight of the radiation suits, Hanson’s faceplate fogged over. Condensation dripped down the interior of the helmet, and it was difficult to see. He struggled to move the heavy case holding the generator where it needed to go but succeeded. Chest heaving fro
m labored breathing, he stepped back. “Work your magic, doc. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Hayworth knelt and opened the carrying case for the force-field generator and started keying in commands. “Just a minute, my boy.”
The room started to spin, and Hanson reached out to steady himself, holding on to a supporting strut. Something’s wrong. He pulled the digital Geiger counter attached to the suit up to his faceplate and tried to read it through the fog. The readout displayed “30260.” He dropped it in shock. “Doc, we got to go now! This compartment’s flooded with over thirty thousand rads of radiation!”
“No,” Hayworth said, the word slurring in his mouth. “Just.. one… more…”
Shit, this is bad. Hanson reached down and grabbed Hayworth by the arms, and dragged him toward the hatch leading back to the main engineering space. At first, the older man tried to resist but quickly gave up. By the time he’d gotten the door open and both of them into the decontamination area, it was everything he had left to open the outer hatch and collapse on the deck.
“Major! Major Hanson! Can you hear me?” Hunter yelled as she knelt next to him.
“Don’t touch me or the doc. Both of us took a nasty dose. Get radiological control down here and the reactor robot.” Hanson’s breathing was labored and heavy. His vision blurred, and it felt like a freight train was roaring through his head.
“Sir, we don’t have time for the robot; we’re on the verge of losing containment.”
Hanson briefly closed his eyes, trying to gather up the energy to drag himself back to the hatch. “Okay,” he began, panting. “I’ll go back in. The field generator still needs to be calibrated to cover the leak.” Through the fogged up helmet, he saw Hunter take off with purpose toward the open hatch. “No, Lieutenant! That’s an order. You don’t have a suit! Wait for the robot!” He tried to shout the words but could only rasp them out.
The hatch closed, and he heard the inner door cycle. Hanson tried to pull himself forward but found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. The only thing he was successful in doing was pulling an alarm, which caused another mind-scrambling alarm klaxon to sound. Some amount of time passed—it couldn’t have been long—and the lead-lined hatch swung open, slowly.
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 16