by B. V. Larson
Mara rolled her eyes. “I think Derek was asking a rhetorical question.”
Zaxby echoed the eyeroll with all four of his, and a comic flair beyond Mara’s ability. “Of that, I am well aware, but it amuses me to clarify you humans’ often-muddy thinking on these ethical matters.”
“Don’t forget me,” Steiner rumbled. “And my guy.”
“He died just as nobly,” Mara said.
“Easy to die nobly when it’s not you doing the dying,” Straker said.
Mara scowled. “That makes no sense. And remember, you approved all this.”
“I know. That’s why I’m feeling conflicted.” Straker flexed the hands gripping the rail. “I guess it’s hardly different from sending young troops on a suicide mission. How about we concentrate on what the golems... what our warriors accomplished?”
“A wise suggestion,” Zaxby said, “Eight Korven and two Arattak ships destroyed at negligible cost.”
“I don’t like to call it negligible cost. That would demean their sacrifice.”
Zaxby drew himself up on his seat, elongating his rubbery body in order to keep his eyes level with Straker’s. Had he been a human, Zaxby would be looking down his nose at him. “Sixteen hours ago the two golems did not exist. When we created them, we knew their natural lifespans would be measured in days at best. The subquantum genetic engineering was quick and dirty—an appropriately colorful and descriptive phrase. They were created. They fulfilled their functions. They are no more—gone the way of all flesh. The only significant thing that has changed is that we have destroyed seven enemy ships and hundreds of hostiles. Think dispassionately rather than emotionally, and your minds will remain tranquil, like mine.”
“That’s enough,” Mara said sharply as Straker’s face threatened further argument. “Focus on the mission. What’s done is done.”
“Yeah,” Straker said, calming himself. “We still have at least nine hours until our fleet shows up. What else can we do to hurt them and relieve the Humbar?”
Zaxby brought up the current tactical situation around the gas giant. “While we have bought time, the Humbar won’t last nine hours. They’re down to twenty-five ships, most of those damaged, versus more than eighty for the attacking forces. And, while quite satisfying, the destruction of Korven ships will not save the Humbar. It is the Arattak who are clearing the way for the Korven ground troops to seize Humbar territory. We must find a way to slow or divert the spiders.”
“Master of the obvious,” Steiner muttered.
“As I said before, I find stating the obvious can help clarify our thought processes—even the weak and slow thought processes of substandard neurotypical grunts like you.”
“I’ll show you weak and slow, squiddley,” Steiner said, spreading his hands and advancing on Zaxby, who rose in sudden alarm.
“Stand down, you two,” Straker snapped. “Zaxby, you need to learn when to shut the fuck up. Steiner, don’t let him get under your skin. Both of you—all of us—we need another idea. We have all got this great tech. Let’s figure out a smart way to use it. Give the enemy another surprise.”
“Not with all these sensor drones all over the place,” Mara said, gesturing at the displays. “We can’t get anywhere close to them—and they won’t fall for another life pod trick. They’re shooting anything that comes near—even little fist-sized asteroids.”
“Then let’s destroy their drones. Zaxby, start taking them out. Shoot and scoot. Keep at least some of the enemy working on finding us, worrying about us, while we keep thinking.”
“If it’s thinking you want, Derek Straker, I suggest turning over the piloting to Mara Straker and the shooting to you or Jurgen Steiner. I will retire to my water tank and cogitate.”
Steiner bristled. “That’s bullshit, you lazy—”
Straker overrode Steiner. “That’s fine. Go think by yourself. We’ll brainstorm here.”
“Thank you.” Zaxby withdrew, Steiner glowering at him.
“Mara, you can pilot this thing with all the stealth mode and skimmer settings?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Then Jurgen, you’re on the maser cannon. It’ll slag their electronics and it’s harder to pinpoint than a laser. Start picking off drones while we wait for Zaxby to come up with something.”
Mara moved to the copilot’s station and said, “Why do you think it’s going to be Zaxby?”
“Because it usually is. I don’t keep him around for his winning personality. If that motivates you to think of something yourself, then great.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“The usual. Drinking caff and pacing.” Straker got each of the others a mug-full from the fancy on-demand multi-drink dispenser. Then he filled his, sipping as he stalked the spacious circular command deck. He let his eyes roam idly over displays and controls and tried to relax, letting his mind wander while Mara piloted and Steiner fired the maser. Mara could’ve easily handled both tasks, but it gave the marine something useful and satisfyingly destructive to do.
His thoughts turned back to the rejuvenation tank and the seductive possibilities of golems. No wonder Mara, Zaxby and Murdock had been reluctant to spread that tech. It was far ahead of its time, existing only because of the underlying principles of the Mindspark device. Humanopt clones and the zombies of the clone-slavers were bad enough. At least they took time and effort to design and grow them, and years to raise them into something that could pass as human.
The rejuvenation tank had done it in hours. It had built a body and made a cheap copy of his mind.
But, that had been a one-off, a unique and desperate circumstance, never to be replicated.
Unless things get desperate again, the devil on his shoulder whispered.
It had worked, but deep in his gut, it made him sick. That was the price of command. Doing what needed to be done to win, because losing wasn’t an option.
To help change his mental track, he called up a list of ship systems, ordinary and experimental, trying to spark an idea. Many times an idea was less a matter of originality than of combining existing things to make something new, using old principles in novel ways. Underspace... antimatter... grav-beam... tractor beam... energy shell... shieldbuster...
“If we approach in underspace, what will they do?” Straker asked Mara.
“Move. Avoid us. With detectors, they can see us but we can’t see them. They might shoot at our congruence point, but really, all they have to do is stay out of the way.”
“What happens if we fire our shieldbuster from underspace?”
“Nothing. Energy fired in underspace is absorbed by the dimension. In fact, underspace is one big power sink. Before you ask, the energy shell won’t work either. Skim mode lets us quickly pop out, fire and pop back in, but that’s a technique, not a tech. They’re forewarned, so skim mode won’t save us from getting blasted at the point of attack.”
“And we only have one underspace generator.”
“Two, really—there’s one on the shipkiller. That makes it a fancy underspace torpedo. We can probably kill one ship with it.”
“Can we make more?”
Mara laughed. “No, far too complex.”
“What if we use the rejuvenation tank as a kind of... three-D printer? Using non-organic material?”
“Hmm. Might work for small parts, but we’re not going to suddenly mass-produce torpedoes. Still... that’s got me thinking... ” Mara started working furiously on her console, muttering.
A few minutes later, Zaxby entered the bridge with less of his usual, somewhat fishy smell, indicating he’d disinfected and deodorized his water suit. “I commend you for your insight,” he said to Mara.
“Derek got me thinking... hey, what do you know about it?”
“Of course I was monitoring your conversation, and I’m brainlinked to the Redwolf’s systems, so I can see what you’re working on.”
“Great. Think you can do it?”
“Indubitably. I
’ve already set the module to produce miniaturized underspace generators.”
Straker’s head swiveled between the two. “For what?”
The two spoke at once, but Mara raised her voice. “Shut up, Zaxby. My idea. We have a lot of defensive mini-missiles in an aft launcher. We’ll replace some of their warheads with tiny replicated underspace generators.”
“And do what?”
“Create distractions, at least. They’ll see a bunch of underspace signatures zooming around and react. They can’t afford to assume they’re harmless.”
“But they are harmless. Like the fake cannon soldiers made on Old Earth. Quaker guns, they called them.”
“Essentially. But it will buy some time.”
Straker chopped his hand in the air. “Anything is better than nothing. Do it. And keep thinking.”
* * *
The distraction bought an hour—an hour of breathing room for the Humbar, an hour closer to the possible arrival of Commodore Gray and the Breaker fleet.
Straker considered using Redwolf’s single shipkiller to take out one more enemy vessel. His military instincts told him to hold it in reserve for the right moment, though, rather than simply knock the opposing count down by one. But now, he found himself and his crew in the same position as before... until the detectors beeped with bogies.
“What the hell is that? Our fleet?”
“Inbounds... well off the plane of the ecliptic... no, not us,” Mara replied. A moment of analysis later, she added, “Thorians.”
“Thorians, huh?”
Zaxby stroked his console while turning one eye toward Straker. “Why do you pointlessly repeat stated facts?”
“Isn’t it a play from your own book? I’m helping to clarify your thinking.”
Zaxby wobbled two eyes at Straker. “Touché. Mara Straker is correct. Thorians. Their radiation signatures are unmistakable. Eight Thorian warships, of battlecruiser class. Fast, lightly armored for their size, but heavily armed.”
“Comlink them.”
“Attempting FTL comlink. No answer. They’re several light-minutes away, but I have also sent a conventional comlink attempt.”
“Any guesses which side they’re on?”
“They’ve always been enigmatic,” Zaxby replied, “not surprising in a highly radioactive species that tends to kill most organic life on contact. Yet, they’re not expansionist, and politically they’ve always been defensive.”
“Like the Humbar.”
“Maybe the Humbar have a secret alliance with the Thorians,” Mara said. “They’re heading at full speed straight for the Arattak.”
“Stand off,” Straker said. “If they fight, we’ll look for an opportunity to help. If they join the spiders... ”
“Then the Humbar are really screwed.”
Straker frowned. “If the Thorians attack, how will a fight stack up?”
“The enemy still has the advantage in numbers and firepower, but if the Thorians make a hard, fast pass, they can hurt the spiders and get away, buying time. The more time the home team has, the more likely help will arrive.”
Zaxby pointed at the holotank. “The Arattak—and the remaining Korven ships—are turning to run for sidespace. It appears they’re not allied with the Thorians.”
It was true. As one, the enemy ships rotated and blasted at full acceleration for the nearest flatspace.
“Yes!” Mara cried. “They’ve backed off!”
“Celebration is premature, Mara Straker,” Zaxby said. “While a combination of our efforts and the timely arrival of this new element has caused the enemy to withdraw, we are no nearer to finding the Hercules or her crew.”
Straker glared at the holotank. “Can we go to skim mode and catch the rearmost spider?”
Mara answered. “Easily. This baby is fast.”
“Do it now. Zaxby, ready the shipkiller, the grav-beam, whatever it takes. I want you to disable that cruiser. Take out her engines and weapons, cut her out of the herd and get her left behind.”
“You want intelligence. Prisoners and access to the spiders’ information storage. It will be dangerous. They will fight back, and you are heavily outnumbered.”
“We’ve got to try. You brainiac pilots handle the space fight. Steiner and I will suit up. Whatever it takes, whatever the risk, cut out their legs, and get us aboard.”
Straker bolted off the bridge and into the cargo hold where the battlesuits were strapped. On the way he comlinked Steiner to join him.
“This is more like it,” Steiner said as he stripped to his skinsuit and fitted himself into his open Ripper. “They won’t know what hit them.”
“Keep in mind, we’re doing this for intel. We need some of them alive, especially bridge crew or officers.”
“How long do spiders live when I pull their legs off?”
“I worry about you, Jurgen.”
Steiner grinned wolfishly. “No worries about me, Herr General. Turn me loose and watch my back. This is all I ask.”
“Roger that, Sergeant.” Once Straker brainlinked into his suit and was fully integrated, he comlinked into the ship channel. “Zaxby.”
“Here.”
“Status?”
“About to attack. I suggest you wait in the cargo airlock. When I open the outer door, you are clear to assault. I also suggest you tap into ship sensors in order to keep yourself apprised of the situation.”
“Got it.”
They moved into the airlock and closed the crysteel door behind them. Straker used his VR-HUD to watch what was happening beyond the hull.
Skim mode made the picture in his mind blink on and off—cold to warm and back, vision to blindness, off and on as they dipped in and out of underspace. Ahead, the tail-end Arattak cruiser ran at full fusion power, following in the wake of its faster fellows.
Straker was glad it wasn’t a Korven at the rear. Korven would be much tougher to board.
His viewpoint raced forward as the Redwolf caught up. The cloud of cooling drive plasma behind the enemy fleet masked the stealthy ship completely. The enemy appeared utterly unaware of the danger. In fact, it had dropped its shields, no doubt for extra impeller power.
Straker could feel Zaxby and Mara as they instructed the ship’s systems to line up and fire the grav-beam. Its twisting energy was aimed not at the engine’s main fusion bottle—disrupting that would likely destroy the ship, as with the Arattak flagship—but at the rocket plenum, the chamber where the fused plasma ignited booster isotopes to create the most efficient reaction mass possible.
Disrupting this process hyper-heated the chamber and exceeded its capacity to contain the energy. As soon as the plenum deformed even slightly, the process of degradation accelerated so quickly—in a fraction of a second—that it exploded. The blast took two meters off the back of the spider ship, causing automatic shutdown of the associated power generation systems.
This left the enemy drifting ballistically, on battery power alone, at least until the systems were rebooted.
In that precious window of seconds, Zaxby used the Redwolf’s lasers to disable all of the enemy’s weaponry. Straker felt Zaxby engage the tractor beam and the two ships slammed together, locked in a deadly embrace.
As soon as they stopped shuddering, the airlock doors opened.
Straker could hear Steiner roaring with the anticipation of battle as his own awareness shrank back into his suit. Zaxby must have cut off his ship feeds, and rightly so.
Straker followed Steiner out onto the hull. He ran across the skin of the ship and onto the much larger Arattak cruiser. A circular hole, cut precisely by the Redwolf’s laser, flashed in his HUD—Zaxby’s guidance.
Steiner spotted it too, and hustled to enter. Straker saw blaster fire and followed the marine through several sticky interior membranes that sealed themselves after every shot.
The inside of the spider ship was bizarre, devoid of any sense of up and down. It was filled with fabric tunnels and expanses of webbing, some manu
factured, some apparently natural. Barely visible lines of light laser fire slashed across these structures, a few striking Steiner without apparent effect.
Simple infantry weapons couldn’t easily take down a battlesuit.
In response, Steiner fired at anything that moved. Unfortunately, most of what moved was not actually a spider—it was fabric, webbing, lines, and debris floating in zero gravity. Some of the webbing sputtered with guttering flame, showing there was oxygen present.
Straker let Steiner be the focus of enemy worries and concentrated on sorting out the confusing situation. He told his SAI to backtrack all fire and give him vectors of its probable origin. With this information he was able to blast through the gossamer sheets of webbing and destroy the defenders behind.
Until a blast of golden energy enveloped Steiner, disabling his battlesuit with a web of crawling lightning.
Straker’s SAI immediately pinpointed the source—a metal warbot—or maybe it was a spider in a battlesuit. His blasters aimed and fired as if of their own volition even while the conscious part of his brain identified it. Pummeling it with shot after shot, he drove it into a bulkhead and destroyed it.
“Steiner, you okay?”
“Jawohl, Herr General. Some small damage, major system shock. I rebooted.”
Straker shot and killed two armed spiders. “Now we need to capture some prisoners. Switch to lasers.”
“Roger that, sir. Where’s their bridge?”
Straker used his HUD mapping mode to give him a picture of the interior space. “Follow me.”
At what looked like the control center he found three unarmed spiders. They had fancy markings on their pink fur, and appeared to be hardlinked into the ship via cables. Straker used his lasers to cut the cables. “Zaxby, do we have translation software?”
“Of course, General. It’s already installed on your suit. Simply switch on your speakers.”