Libor: Katana Krieger #2

by Bill Robinson

  Ramos looks at me, shaking his unshaven head. "I'll say it again, sir, what is someone as good with a blade as you doing in the frakkin' Navy?"

  We get 10 seconds of peace before we start taking fire from down the tarmac, two trucks headed our way at high speed. Ramos doesn't have to signal, we all bail for the nearest boat.

  I get on board, and almost die. A shell whizzes by my ear, I turn, a Libor crouched in the back starts to fire again, sees Swenson and Odoms aiming at him and surrenders. I put my hand up at the Marines. There are two Libor, one I recognize.

  "That one goes out the hatch." I point to the one who almost shot me, then I shift to the second one. "We're taking Phil with us."

  Pretty sure a few choice four letter words just flashed through their heads, but they keep them there. The unnamed Libor goes for a very short flight, Swenson keeps his weapon pointed at Phil.

  We're still taking fire, ringing against the hull, we need to move. Odoms goes the wrong way, exits the boat, only to reappear almost instantly with Ramos, the two of them carrying a bleeding and unconscious Weese.

  I hit the switch to close and seal the hatch.

  "Watch the lights Odoms, yellow is their green, make sure we get yellow."

  "Yes, sir." He and Swenson are hard at work on Weese, I suspect red is the only color on their minds.

  "Ramos," I point toward the Libor, "tie that bastard up, then I need you at the controls."

  He doesn't respond, moves toward the alien, blood from one of his team wet on his uniform.

  I go forward and take the right side seat. I saw the Libor shut the ship down from where I'm sitting, I just have to remember the steps and do them backwards. It doesn't help that the trucks are a few seconds out and we're under a constant barrage of small arms.

  I push the big button in the overhead that I think is the master switch, and move the two sliders beside it into the middle position. We get a low rumble from the thrusters pods, a nice beep, and the nav screens come alive. They have that wavy, fluid look of all Libor screens, but I have no choice but to deal.

  Ramos slides in next to me.

  "What do you want me to do?," he asks, hoping I'll say ‘nothing.'

  "Nothing." If he didn't already think I'm crazy. I hit a few more of the buttons on the overhead and move a lever on the console.

  If my recollections from the flight and the translations from Naval Research are even close, we're ready to go. I put my right hand on the stick, my left on the throttles, then slide the throttles gently forward, feeling a little upward pressure from the engines.

  "Gentlemen, please take cover," I yell aft, "Odds are I haven't done everything I need to, and this is going to be rough."

  My peripheral suggests neither of them moves, they simply grab tight to Weese.

  I push harder, and the ship leaps skyward.

  "Sorry." I slow our ascent slightly, then, without turning, give Ramos a task.

  "Lieutenant, you see the lever with the blue cap off your right hand. I need you to gently push it forward."

  "Roger that." He puts his hand on it, but doesn't move it.

  "Now, please, but slowly."

  He does as I ask while I rotate the nose up. We fall 100 meters in world record time, I stabilize us from the stall by pushing the nose down, pushing Ramos' hand and its control hard to its original position, then increasing thrust and taking us back to altitude.

  "Sorry."

  I level us off, add a tad more power, then much more gently raise the nose a few degrees, have Ramos push his lever an inch, repeat, then repeat, and then repeat, until we are nose up 70 degrees or so, headed spaceward at full throttle. Now if I only was sure the life support systems were on.

  Chapter 23 – Toward the Sun

  Commander Shelby Perez watch the jump countdown approach one minute, the star growing dangerously close before them, a molten sea of churning red, white, and orange.

  "Open outer doors all lasers, prepare to fire tubes 1 and 2, open outer doors on tubes 3 and 4, arm and ready."

  "Aye, sir, weapons show ready." McAdams had her wolf voice out, drawing a quiet smile from Shelby who how much her Captain appreciated it.

  Shelby reached into her overhead, hit a switch. Horns and recorded voices echoed over the now not silent ship.

  Battle stations. Battle stations. All Hands. Battle stations.

  The clock reached zero, and they were instantly planet-side. Perez felt the missiles in the two forward tubes eject, saw them on visual race off at full thrust for their targets.

  "RISTA, combat scan, active if needed. Find me the Captain. Find me the enemy."

  "Aye, Commander."

  It took less than 30 seconds to spot the first targets.

  "Two ships outbound the planet surface from the local base, 400 ton Football class. Closing."

  "Roger that, target with starboard batteries, do not fire." The last thing Shelby wanted to do was shoot a friendly.

  "Affirmative. Target lock, weapons hold." McAdams paused. "Six ships incoming, possibly L1 Football class, 32 minutes, 195 mark 000."

  Shelby accessed her tactical display, checked all eight aliens in her neighborhood. Then she looked for Katana, who was late as usual. She used the break to send a status report to Summerlin, who should have jumped in with his team near the sun, ready to jump home if only to report the destruction of a lone frigate.

  Chapter 24 – Racing for Orbit

  "Mr. Ramos, it's about time we phoned home. I'm going to have to eyeball the orbit, I haven't done that since the Academy. Shelby's got to come pick us up."

  "Yes, sir." Ramos doesn't get up, he turns and barks an order. "Swenson, get on the radio, call Yorktown."

  Swenson and Odoms are still on the deck holding on to Weese. I can't turn my head to see what happens, but I hear "Recon Alpha to Yorktown, do you read? Recon Alpha en route to orbit, need assistance, please respond."

  Our little ship shudders, one of the pods loses partial power. Someone's shooting at us.

  Chapter 25 – In Orbit Around Libor Prime

  Courtney McAdams started to yell at her Commander, but never got a word out.

  "I saw it. Blow the second ship out of the sky, Lieutenant."

  With one eye, Shelby watched McAdams' fingers fly, and below, a ship exploded as two 24 inch laser turrets ripped it to shreds.

  The other eye reacted to the comm panel lighting up, her fingers moving automatically to open the frequency, hitting the button that activated the speakers on the bridge so that everyone could hear.

  "...town, do you read? Recon Alpha en route to orbit, need assistance, please respond."

  "Recon this is Yorktown. Sit rep." Shelby couldn't keep her voice in check, couldn't make herself sound like the commander of a warship. Quickly she filed that away for future reference, and moved on.

  "Stand by." Not the reply she expected, her joy changed to anger, then back again just as quickly.

  "Commander," the Captain's voice boomed across the bridge, a half dozen cheers sprang from the crew, "we're under fire, eyeballing our orbital track, need some help."

  Shelby hit the transmit key.

  "Your tail is dust, Captain, Garcia will feed you orbital parameters as soon as she calculates them."

  "Aye, nice shooting. Awaiting instructions."

  "Garcia?" Shelby didn't have to explain, sure her chief pilot was already on top of it.

  "Sir, have the Skipper maintain current thrust for two minutes, 26 seconds."

  "Copy that." Shelby touched her transmit key again. "Captain, maintain thrust for two minutes, 24 seconds."

  "Roger, two twenty four. Commander, we'll need the assault boat sent our way, no suits on board. We have one Libor prisoner and one down, we need the doctor."

  "Copy, Skipper, on their way."

  Shelby flipped a couple switches to get comm off speaker and connect herself to Tony.

  "Palmer, ready the assault ship, put a squad on board, the doctor's coming with you as well."r />
  He was back instantly, probably spying on the bridge somehow.

  "Yes, sir, we're on our way now."

  "Doctor Bonilovich to deck one, on the double doc, full medical kit."

  The doctor responded and Shelby went back to watching her screens, this time focused on the nav display that related Yorktown to the alien ship.

  Chapter 26

  I shut the engines down as close to 2:24 as I can, keeping the systems active in case of trouble or if we need to maneuver during the rendevous. I rotate the boat Yorktown's direction, but we can't eyeball her out the window.

  Six minutes after we go quiet, we can eyeball the assault boat, battle scared ZR-1 corvette class, as it comes in to view, slows, then attaches itself to the hatch. I stay at the controls, give instructions to Ramos on how and when to open us up, and send him back. I can't begin to describe my happiness when we feel the bump as ship contacts ship.

  The hatch swings open when Ramos presses the big yellow button, and Dr. Bonilovich floats in. The first time I have ever been happy to see him. He's quickly at Weese's side, right to work, shooing Odoms away. Tony Palmer is next in, followed by a couple of his crew who float to the stern and not too gently escort our prisoner onto the ZR.

  After a quick greeting between himself and Ramos, he comes forward.

  "Captain, we need to get out of here, enemy ships in bound."

  "Nice to see you too, Lieutenant. Let's roll."

  I don't bother to do anything with the controls, unhook the seatbelts, float out of the pilot's chair and follow the Marine to the hatch. I make him wait while the doctor and Swenson move Weese, now strapped into a metal stretcher.

  I move across last, a Marine aviator sealing the ZR's hatch and detaching us from the alien boat behind me.

  We lift off and power toward Yorktown, I start dreaming of iced tea.

  Chapter 27

  The assault boat docks effortlessly on the deck one docking port, I make sure the Force Recon unit gets their wounded off first, with a quick thank you to Ramos for getting us home, before I float down the two decks to the bridge.

  Shelby is floating next to the command couch, looks me over, laughs, then calls, "Captain on the bridge."

  From the sounds, they're as happy to see me as I am to see them.

  "Status report." I reach my couch, Shelby backs away a little.

  "Six warships inbound, L1 class, ETA eight minutes. Two missiles outbound for Libor defense stations, ETA five minutes. All ship's systems nominal. Captain in serious need of a shower."

  "Thank you, Commander. Mr. Garcia, plot a course to the sun."

  She's back instantly.

  "Button on your nav screen, Skipper. Welcome home."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant, it's good to be here." I take a quick look, spot the "Run Away" button, punch it. "Nice choice, Mr. Garcia."

  Shelby takes one last long look at my bare feet and floats off to her couch.

  Acceleration warning horns fill the ship, my new favorite sounds. Ten seconds later, we're swinging at high gee, then punched in the gut by nine gee acceleration. Despite the fact that I now weigh more than 1,000 pounds, the hair continues to stand firmly to port. At least it's not dripping grease.

  "Mr. McAdams, update please." It's hard to talk at this weight, but I need to know what the enemy ships are doing.

  "Skipper, six pursuers changing course to follow, holding at 4.56 gees, no longer able to intercept us." McAdams happy, I think a little miffed that it was Garcia who got to do the welcome home thing. "Both missiles detonated, but only one base destroyed, the closer of the two still there, enemy anti-missile defense is one for two."

  "Thank you. Keep me advised. Focus scan ahead."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  Assuming nothing else happens, blowing up those bases was for fun, not profit. They're too far away to threaten us.

  "Mr. Perez, relay our sit rep to Summerlin, please."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  We pass through our brief time at nine gees, our longer time at six, and settle in at 4.56 matching the aliens. Our tactical computers have them 10,000 kph slower than we are, 2,000 clicks away and falling back fast. Somehow, I get the feeling they don't mind, and I have to figure out why before we get to the jump point.

  Two hours weighing almost 600 pounds before we go engines standby for head call. I float to my ready room at near light speed, start the tea brewing, program the shower for seven minutes, and luxuriate. When the water stops, I put on my first clean uniform in almost a week, grab two bottles of fresh brew, and float to the bridge leaving a trail of water droplets behind me. Almost heaven. And still barefoot.

  I also remember what's in my pack, manage to hand McAdams a stack of Libor documents and Olivia a Libor tablet before I strap myself back in. Nothing like a visit from Santa Claus to make your RISTA team happy.

  We go back to six gees for a few minutes to make up for the pause, then settle in at 4.5 again. Nav screen says 15 hours to jump. I haven't decided where we'll go, whether it's necessary to keep the illusion of short range capability at this point or not. Odds are high that the Senator, his aide, or one of the professors has told them we've been lying, but Stabler did suggest that everybody learned quick to tell the Libor what they wanted to hear, so who knows?

  Or they could have figured it out a long time ago, and are frakking with us, laughing that we think we're frakking with them.

  As we settle in, I get updated status reports, including one from Bonilovich that Weese is stable and should make a full recovery, but only if we find him a stationary place to sleep soon. Two hours later at the next head call, I go to sickbay and visit him (despite the fact he's unconscious) before emptying my bladder and refilling my tea bottles.

  Nine hours from jump, McAdams lights the light that says she wants a private conversation.

  "Courtney, what do you have?"

  "Skipper, there's something out there, but I can't be sure what. We're flying into the sun, makes it tough to get good readings, but there's little bits of something all over the place."

  "Recommendations?"

  "Permission to contact Lieutenant Summerlin and ask him to look at a couple locations from his side."

  "Permission granted, let me know what you find."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  Roughly an hour later, the light comes back on.

  "RISTA?"

  "Skipper, it's a mine field. The corvettes were able to get close enough to one to double check, and it's definitely the largest minefield I have ever heard about. I think, maybe, they let us go so easy last time to trick us into coming the same way again, or jumping into the system close to the sun if we returned. There are also a number of ships out there as well. The Lieutenant also asked me to tell you that Truxton jumped out a week ago to carry the messages about you going missing and us being attacked, and has not yet returned."

  Nothing is ever easy. "Options?"

  "Currently, none. Working, sir."

  "Update Mr. Garcia, she may have course ideas from a different perspective. See if you can't find me a hole in the net."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  I update Shelby and Rains, then call up the tactical and nav displays, merge them onto one screen and play with my courses. I can't find a good one either.

  Twenty minutes, McAdams calls me back. I conference my First and Second onto the line.

  "Skipper, every course we plot takes us into the minefield or within firing range of a significant number of ships. If we try to go above or below the field, it allows the ships behind us to catch up. We have to fly the hypotenuse of the right triangle, they only have to fly one of the sides. Same thing if we go port or starboard within jump range. There are two areas without mines, but I believe there are defense platforms of some kind in those spaces. Can't be sure, but there are no mines in two odd areas, and something else is giving off energy there."

  "Options?"

  "Pick a spot, Skipper, and we fight our way through."

&nb
sp; "How long before we have to alter course?"

  "Thirty minutes to one hour, depending on which you choose. Through the field gives us the longest time."

  "Copy that. Shelby?"

  "Skipper, I'd go above or below and take on the ships, I don't like the temptation of open spaces in the minefield."