by G J Ogden
Banks pondered this for a moment. “Maybe they plan to come back?” she suggested.
“They know this system is burned,” replied Sterling, shaking his head. “They must have realized that we’d come back here.”
“So, it’s a trap then,” said Banks.
“Maybe,” said Sterling, though he knew it was wishful thinking to believe otherwise. “Either way, we still need to do our job and drop an aperture relay inside these rings,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “The question is where do we hide it?”
“Inside that moonlet would be my suggestion.”
The comment came from Lieutenant Razor, who was again standing tall at the rear of the bridge with her hands behind her back.
“Though I realize you didn’t ask for my suggestion, sir,” Razor then added, as both captain and first officer turned their attention to her.
“I’m not one to discourage input, Lieutenant, though you could explain what you mean,” replied Sterling.
Razor spun back to her array of consoles, fingers flashing across the various panels. Moments later, the viewscreen updated to show the moonlet with the hole cored through its center.
“The aperture relays have no major propulsion systems of their own. Only station-keeping thrusters,” Razor went on, while flitting from console to console. “However, we can navigate the Invictus inside the moonlet and deploy the relay on its inner surface.”
The viewscreen updated with an overlay that explained Razor’s idea more fully. Sterling frowned and studied the overlay on the screen.
“There’s barely ten meters clearance either side of that cavity,” Sterling said, examining Razor’s data more closely. “That’s pretty tight, don’t you think?”
“I can make it, sir,” said Keller, who had swung his seat around to face the command platform. “And it is a good place to hide the relay.”
“What breakfast meal tray did both of you have this morning?” said Sterling, smiling. “Whatever it was, it seems to have given you balls of steel.”
“It was a number thirty-two, I think, sir,” replied Keller, which elicited a stifled laugh from Banks.
“It was a rhetorical question, Ensign,” said Sterling, causing the helmsman’s cheeks to flush red. “But if you think you can navigate through the cored-out moonlet, make it happen.”
“Aye, sir,” said Keller, grateful for the opportunity to swing his chair forward to hide his embarrassment.
Commander Banks’ console then chimed an update and she checked it without delay. The smile that was present on his first officer’s face then fell away and her brow furrowed.
“Do we have trouble?” asked Sterling, recognizing the look of concern on Banks’ face.
“Maybe,” replied Banks, unhelpfully. “It looks like the scanners picked up some movement. Something other than rock and ice. But the reading shows clear again.”
Sterling felt a knot harden in his stomach. “Lieutenant Razor, see what you can do to enhance our scanners,” he said to the engineer before turning to Keller. “Let’s position this relay as quickly as possible, Ensign,” he added. “Something tells me we’re not alone out here.”
Banks' console chimed again, but she just shook her head in frustration. “There it goes again,” she said, working to enhance the scanner readings. “There’s something out there, I’m certain of it.”
Sterling glanced at the doughnut-shaped moonlet that now filled the viewscreen. He considered aborting the maneuver, but Ensign Keller had already inched the Invictus inside the perfectly circular tube that had been carved out of the rock by the alien super-weapon.
“We’re in position, Captain,” Keller called out, the ensign’s eyes still locked onto his controls.
“Deploy the relay and let’s get the hell out of this system,” Sterling called over to his weapon’s officer.
Razor acknowledged the order and a second later the aperture relay was ejected. Sterling watched the device orientate itself then latch on to the inside wall of the cored-out moonlet. Moments later his panel lit up as the beacon began transmitting on its unique frequency.
“Relay deployed. The signal is strong,” said Razor from the rear of the bridge. “The material in the ring system will attenuate the signal, but there’s still enough power to transmit through the aperture.”
Banks' console chimed again then fell silent. Sterling heard his first officer curse under her breath.
“The scanners can’t quite get a lock on whatever the hell is stalking us,” said Banks, fists still clenched.
“Try now, Commander,” said Razor, who had been working frenetically across her consoles, moving from station to station like an orchestra percussionist.
Banks’ console chimed yet again, but this time the mellow bleep was followed by a more aggressive alert tone.
“Mines…” Banks said, glancing across to Sterling. “The Sa’Nerra booby trapped the area with damned stealth mines. It looks like they’ve been closing in on us the whole time we’ve been inside the ring gap.”
Sterling studied the new readings on his console then overlaid the mine positions onto a map on the viewscreen. Dozens of red chevrons appeared in a chaotic arrangement, like the pattern of spots on a Dalmatian’s coat.
“Mines…” Sterling said, glancing across to Banks. “That’s an usually devious tactic for the Sa’Nerra.”
“I think our emissaries have been teaching these alien bastards a few new tricks,” Banks replied.
Sterling sighed then turned to his helmsman. “I hope you’re suitably limbered up, Ensign,” said Sterling, addressing the young pilot. “Because we’re going to need your exceptional flying skills now, more than ever.”
Chapter 11
Worrying is for admirals
The Invictus waited inside the cored-out moonlet, barely poking its nose beyond the mouth of the hole, like a timid rabbit hiding in its burrow. Sterling waited for his crew to perform their analysis, tapping his finger on the side of his console as the Sa’Nerran stealth mines drew nearer by the second.
“Our point defense cannons will only be able to take out some of the mines, Captain,” Lieutenant Shade began from the weapons console, opening the round of reports. “Based on our projected course from Ensign Keller, I estimate that a minimum of six will slip through.”
Sterling turned around and rested on his console, waiting for Lieutenant Razor to finish working, but the engineer was still in full flow.
“Any chance you can speed up our exit from the ring system, Ensign?” asked Sterling, turning to Keller instead.
“My projected course and speed are already pretty ambitious Captain,” Keller replied, cautiously.
“Then be more ambitious, Ensign,” replied Sterling.
Keller’s eyes widened. “Aye, sir,” the helmsman said, turning back to his console.
“The Sa’Nerra weren’t messing about when they laid these mines, Captain,” said Razor, finally turning away from her consoles. “Their yields are high enough to pop a hole in the hull of a heavy cruiser. Just one of them could cripple us, never mind six.”
Sterling folded his arms and tilted his head to one side. “This is the part where you tell me you have a brilliant plan to avoid getting hit, Lieutenant,” he said. Sterling recalled that Razor was keen to earn commendations; now was her chance.
“I was just coming to that, Captain,” replied Razor. She was impressively deadpan, to the point where her aloofness almost rivalled that of Opal Shade. “These mines are powerful, but not especially smart. The Sa’Nerra spent all their time making them hard to find. But now that I can see them, I send a feedback pulse back to their tracking sensors and screw with their navigation.”
Banks looked impressed, but Sterling had learned that whenever an engineer appeared to give a straight answer to a question, it was usually followed by a “but”.
“But it will only confuse their navigation systems, not cripple them completely,” Razor went on, proving Sterling correct, much to his chagri
n. “I estimate that fifty to seventy-five percent of the mines in our path will become so erratic that they miss us completely.”
“That should give us the leeway we need to target the remaining threats, sir,” said Shade, who had been busy working at her console while Razor was speaking. “However, if the point defense guns let one through, it will come down to piloting skill to avoid it.”
Sterling could practically hear Ensign Keller force down a dry swallow as Shade said this. The ensign then turned to his captain, sitting as tall as he could.
“I’ve got this sir, don’t worry,” Ensign Keller said.
Sterling thought that Keller had made a good stab at sounding confident. However, there was also a hint of the awkward kid who stepped nervously into the wardroom each morning in the helmsman’s response.
“Worrying is for admirals or regular Fleet captains, Ensign,” Sterling replied, filling the bridge with his powerful voice. “We’re Omega officers. We just get it done, understood?”
“Aye, sir,” Keller replied, with more vigor.
“Feedback pulse ready, Captain,” said Razor. “Regenerative armor at maximum power.”
“Point defense cannons armed and ready,” Shade added.
Sterling could see that Shade had also initiated her virtual manual control system for the point defense cannons. It would be impossible for a single person to track and destroy the mines and ring debris manually, but Sterling was still glad to see that his weapons officer was taking every precaution. If something slipped through the net, Shade would at least have the opportunity to intervene, before it was too late.
“Take us out, Ensign,” said Sterling, grasping the sides of his console. It was a position he adopted so often that the areas where his fingers touched the metal had become smooth and polished from the oils in his skin.
Ensign Keller took a moment to compose himself for the task ahead. Then he placed his hands onto the helm controls like a pianist preparing to play and powered the Invictus out of the moonlet. Despite their inertial negation systems being fully functional, Sterling had to tighten his grip on the console to counteract the fierce acceleration. Even so, the Invictus had barely emerged from the moonlet before the red chevrons on the viewscreen started to converge and race toward them.
“Point defense cannons engaging,” said Shade.
The announcement was unnecessary as Sterling could already feel the rapid beat of the weapons systems through the deck.
“Feedback pulse at full power,” Razor called out, having to raise her voice over the rising cadence of their engines and reactor core.
Flashes of light popped off on the viewscreen like distant fireworks as mine after mine was destroyed by the ship’s automated gun turrets. Meanwhile, Keller was fighting with his helm controls, trying to steer the nimble Marauder-class warship through the maze of icy debris ahead of them. It was like running out into a hailstorm in the dead of night and trying to avoid getting hit by falling ice. Sterling felt a hard thud resonate through the deck. Peering at the condition report on his console, he saw a section of their regenerative armor turn amber.
“Hit to port bow, armor holding,” Shade called out, her voice encouragingly calm and assured.
“Hold on!” Keller cried out, turning the ship hard to starboard to avoid a dense cluster of rocks.
Sterling saw the thrusters turn red on his console. Keller was pushing the Invictus beyond its rated maximum, but it was still barely enough. Another chunk of ice the size of a heavy cruiser then loomed large on the viewscreen. Sterling felt like calling out to alert Keller, but he bit his tongue, knowing that no-one was more acutely aware of the ship’s position than his helmsman. Keller remained focused, displaying the poise under pressure that had helped get the Invictus out of many scrapes before. Fingers flashing across his console, Keller made dozens of micro-adjustments to the ship’s pitch and roll, but it wasn’t quite enough. Metal creaked and groaned as the Invictus scraped across the icy mass. Ghostly noises echoed through the hull as if it were an ancient shipwreck being raised from the ocean floor.
“Ventral hull armor at fifty percent,” Lieutenant Shade called out. “We’re grinding metal.”
“Give us a touch more altitude, Ensign,” said Sterling, resolving to sound as calm and unflappable as his weapons officer had done.
“I’m trying, sir,” said Keller, his face twisted with effort, as if he was a combat fighter pilot physically pulling back on a yoke. “We’re carrying too much momentum.”
“Increasing power to the thrusters,” Lieutenant Razor called out, her back to the viewscreen.
The ship’s chief engineer was racing from console to console, working frantically to squeeze more out of the Invictus than it had ever given before. The resonant groans and murmurs then ceased and Sterling saw the reading for the ventral armor plating stabilize.
“That did it,” Keller called out, practically expelling the words in a gasp. “She’s responding…”
Another alert registered on Sterling’s console, this time from life support. Ten percent of the ship had just lost gravity and was reduced to minimal oxygen and heating. Sterling was about to call to Shade to ask if they’d taken another hit, when he noticed that the power from life-support had been redirected manually.
“Did you steal power from life support for the thrusters, Lieutenant?” asked Sterling, glancing over his shoulder to Razor.
“Aye, sir,” Razor replied, appearing perfectly at ease with her answer. “Though no crucial sections are affected.”
“The people bouncing off the walls, freezing their assess off on the lower decks might disagree,” commented Banks.
“They’ll live,” replied Razor.
Sterling checked his console again. They were almost through the ring system, but still the mines were closing in around them. It was then he realized he’d fallen into another trap – the same one he’d avoided the last time he was in System Omega Four.
“They’ve laid the mines through the ring system, assuming we’d make a bee-line for the aperture,” said Sterling, gripping the side of his console more tightly.
“And we fell for it,” added Banks, looking as sheepish as Sterling felt.
“Point defense cannons are overheating, Captain,” said Shade, as Keller steered the Invictus past another huge clump of ice. “We’ve lost twenty percent capacity already.”
“Compensate as best you can,” replied Sterling.
Sterling then switched his console view to the rudimentary map of the ring system that they’d assembled during their first visit. The Sa’Nerra had gotten the jump on him twice, but he’d be damned if he’d let it happen a third time. Damn you, McQueen… Sterling cursed in his mind, putting the Sa’Nerra’s new and more devious tactics down to the influence of their new Emissary. Scouring the ring system for another way out – one that would allow Keller to make a hastier exit – he spotted a corridor leading directly into space. Compared to their far denser surroundings, it was a veritable super-highway, and it was also clear of traffic. Sterling thought for a moment, tapping his finger on the side of the console, then glanced up at the back of his helmsman’s head.
“Ensign, adjust course and follow the route I’ve just sent you,” Sterling called out, transmitting the new plan to Keller’s console.
“Aye, sir, adjusting course,” Keller replied without hesitation.
However, a quick glance across to his first officer told him that Banks was less certain of her captain’s decision.
“That looks like a suspiciously clear route out of this hellhole,” said Banks, through a neural link. “If something looks too good to be true, it usually is.”
Sterling nodded, comprehending Banks’ meaning at once. “I think it’s time we prepared a little surprise of our own,” he answered. Closing the link he then turning to his weapons officer. “Lieutenant Shade, charge the forward rail-guns. I want a full volley ready by the time we leave the ring system.”
“We’re going
to need more power, sir,” replied Shade. Her head was down, working furiously at her console. “I can’t draw from any of the other defensive systems, without risking taking a hit.”
“I can give you enough power for one volley,” Razor chipped in.
Sterling spun around to face his engineer. “How many more people do we have to send bouncing off the walls in the cold to allow that?”
“Everyone bar those in medical and engineering, sir,” replied Razor, plainly.
“Very well, make it happen,” said Sterling. “I’ll alert Commander Graves to prepare the med bay for a series of bruises, broken bones and frostbite injuries.”
The bridge was then filled with another alert tone. It was like a shot of adrenalin directly into Sterling’s heart.
“Report!” Sterling called out.
“Port quarter point defenses have failed,” Shade replied. “A mine has slipped through.”
Sterling jerked his head toward his weapons officer, so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. However, Lieutenant Shade was already focused on her virtual manual weapons controls. Sterling glanced down at his console and saw that she was operating the ventral rail cannon. Compared to the point defenses it was slow to move and recharge, but it was all they had left.
“Fifteen seconds to impact,” Banks called out as the alert tone in the bridge rose in pitch and volume. It was like the ping of sonar on a submarine as a torpedo drew closer. The noise made Sterling’s hair stand on end.
“Silence that alert,” Sterling called out, keeping his eyes focused on Lieutenant Shade. The strident alarm tone vanished, and the sudden absence of sound was almost more chilling than the alert itself.
“Five seconds…” said Banks.
Shade squeezed the virtual triggers sending a pulse of plasma energy out into space. A blink of an eye later the ship was rocked by a shockwave and the bridge was filled with yet another alert tone. This time Sterling cancelled it himself and peered down at the damage readout. However, besides a few minor systems and a raft of yellow and amber colors covering almost their entire regenerative armor system, the Invictus was in one piece.