From her position, Jantine had a clear view of Malik’s screen, and the sight of his faceplate illuminated by its glow was a comfort. Just before insertion, he closed his eyes, counting down the seconds until the sequence he’d programmed jettisoned the hyperdrive module and brought them hurtling back into normal space.
Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .
Malik
MALIK SLAMMED INTO HIS RESTRAINTS AS HIS SCREEN went wild. He had no more than a second to decide whether his rifle or the computer was more important to hold on to, and given the team’s location it wasn’t a hard choice at all. His right hand shot out and barely reached the case’s handle before it went spinning away. Pulling it closer, he kept his eyes on the readouts as the container tumbled.
The sudden return of gravity to his world was a completely unexpected development, and until he could confirm what had gone wrong with the insertion, his priorities were still to get a lock on the planet and get the containers free of the cargo slug.
Their exit from hyperspace should have been no more dramatic than a few new data points appearing on his screen. But now they were spinning wildly through space, and the mass readings indicated that fragments of whatever they’d impacted were tumbling along with them.
And also that they were definitely not alone in this supposedly empty area of space.
"Boss . . . not . . . done . . . with . . . bad . . . news."
"What . . . happened?"
Jantine’s words were as strained as his own, and at least one other member of the team was screaming. Through the chaos, he thought it might be one of the sibs, but there was no telling which one.
"Hit . . . something. Above . . . ecliptic . . . not . . . natural. Have to . . . retask . . . scans."
"Do you . . . have . . . planet?"
Malik got his other hand to one of his restraints and released it, dragging the strap across the case to provide a bit more stability. Up and down were still relative and uncertain terms, but at least now the screen was level with his eyes, and he could enter some commands. A few seconds of hurried tapping gave him answers, but not the ones Jantine wanted.
"No. Ships. Lots. Big . . . ones."
Half a dozen, in fact. But he couldn’t spare the syllables to explain fully.
"Want . . . grav?"
Whatever Jantine was going to say was lost when another impact shook the container. In addition to an expanded debris field from the ship they’d hit, a handful of new contacts appeared on his screen, and none of them the planet he was looking for. But these new arrivals were moving in familiar ways, enough so that he didn’t need to wait for the computer to tell him what they were.
"Missiles!"
On the screen, the missiles were converging on a single point, thankfully one on the other side of the cargo slug. So far, the enemy was treating their improvised spacecraft as nothing but an unexplained rock in space, and the targeting made sense. They were trying to break it up before it could do any more damage to their fleet, but Malik could see that their plan wouldn’t work.
On target, but definitely too late to do them any good. We’re not finished hitting spaceships yet . . .
Malik stabbed a finger at the broadcast key on his handheld, and was rewarded with a humming inside his faceplate as the suit comms went live.
"Brace . . . yourselves!"
He could see Jantine from his position atop the crates, and knew generally where the rest of the mods were fastened. When the missiles hit, the subroutine he was running on their suit telemetries gave him a much clearer picture of the team’s status. And an unfortunately smaller head count.
Harren and Doria are flatlining . . .
Malik’s grunt of recognition was all he allowed himself to voice before bending his head and starting a new set of burn calculations. There were bigger things to worry about right now. If the civvies were dead, so be it. Unless he could stabilize their flight, they’d have plenty of company soon enough.
Doria, I . . .
The missiles’ impact didn’t do much more than blast off a few hundred tons of rock, but as an unexpected benefit the explosions killed most of the slug’s angular momentum. Jantine must have realized this as well, and was already unfastening her harness.
"Grav! And find me that planet."
Malik programmed one-quarter gravity, but didn’t activate any other environmental systems. All he really needed to do was establish a separate frame of reference for the container and buy them a little more time. Once it came online, he felt a great weight lift from his shoulders, but didn’t raise his head from the screen.
Jantine would see to the others—that’s what she was here for. Now that he could use both hands Malik began searching for any trajectory that didn’t include a very large spaceship directly in their path.
And when he found one—as with the missiles—it was too late to matter. Using as calm a voice as he could muster, Malik addressed the rest of the team over the open channel.
"Anyone who’s not still harnessed should find something to hold onto. We’re about to make contact with the enemy."
There wasn’t much point in telling Jantine they were about to collide with a Redstone class dreadnaught, or that they’d already plowed through three of its tenders. All any of them could do now was hold on and hope for a quick death.
As he watched the range to target decrease, his thoughts weren’t of the mission, or Doria, or even the people aboard the enemy ship that would die along with him. Instead, he imagined the surface of the planet he’d finally located, and how nice it might have been to stand on it.
Despite the artificial gravity field, Malik was thrown hard against the restraints by the impact, and this time they were insufficient to the task. He rocketed off the raft of crates toward one of the unseen walls of the cargo container. As he flew through the thinning air, he tightened his grip on the portable unit and drew it close to his chest. If he couldn’t save his own life, at least he could protect the only chance the rest of the team had for survival.
All right, JonB. Let’s see how smart you really are. Maybe you can figure out why an attack fleet is trying to stay hidden this close to—
Aloysius
"DAMMIT, WHERE’S THAT EMERGENCY POWER?"
Captain Aloysius Martin, commander of the System Defense Force dreadnaught Valiant was not happy. First a giant rock came out of nowhere and smashed through his battle group. Then he’d lost his grip on the railing. And then just when he’d oriented himself for a secured position along a bulkhead, one of the wetnose middies panicked and bounced him back out into open air.
If I find out which one it was, I’m going to enjoy showing the kid just how much dirt can hide on a deck, even when you’re inches away with a tiny wire brush.
Floating blind through his command center, there was nothing he could do until one of the dozen or so screaming people in the same situation either guided him to a wall or followed his damned orders.
And I’m getting a little tired of waiting for answers.
"Sir, I don’t know . . ."
"Captain, I can’t . . ."
"I’m not sure, but . . ."
Martin felt something solid against his back and used the hand he’d kept on his belt controls since he started tumbling to activate his boot magnets. The solid SSSSHUNK as they made a connection with whatever surface he’d found was the best thing he’d heard in the last five minutes, and it finally gave him something to work with.
Taking a deep breath, he puckered his lips and gave a shrill whistle. The earsplitting noise had the desired effect, and he let the silence linger for a moment before speaking.
"Listen up! The next person who tells me what they don’t know or can’t do had better not let me recognize their voice. We have a problem. I want solutions, not excuses. So who’s willing to start?"
There was a long moment of silence as his subordinates pondered the rest of their careers. Martin was about to speak again when he heard four knocks against some surface acr
oss the room. Three seconds later, they repeated, standard damage control procedure aboard starships.
There’s someone out there!
Martin was about to order a response when someone in the same area found enough leverage to give an answering three knocks.
Alive. Pressurized. Ready. Looks like one of you new recruits was paying attention in class after all.
Martin closed his eyes and waited for the command center’s access door to cycle. Whoever was out there likely had a portable power unit and came up here to get some idea of what happened. He’d have the answers he needed soon enough.
Martin heard the door squeal in protest as his rescuers cranked the manual release. There was a soft sound of escaping air, and through his lids he registered a soft glow.
Opening his eyes onto the green light of a chemical hand lamp, he smiled at the realization that he’d come to rest inverted from ship normal. The hatch was cranked halfway, just enough for a half dozen crew in hardsuits to come in, but not so far that it couldn’t be closed in a hurry if necessary.
The team leader’s suit had what Martin thought was a red blaze across the shoulders, but in the chem light it could easily enough have been blue. What mattered most there the two circles on either side of their collar, and the professional way the officer was taking stock of the ruined command center.
And very close after it on the list has to be the induction pistol fixed to that chestplate. Whoever you are, you’re not taking any chances, are you?
After slapping a tether box to the bulkhead, the lieutenant stepped aside and let the rest of the team go to work. A clear contralto came from the suit’s external speaker, and Martin smiled when he recognized who’d come to find him.
"Who’s in command?"
"I am, Lieutenant Harlan. What can you tell me?"
Mira Harlan had been with Martin for almost five years, and was a strong candidate for the captains list the next time there was an opening. Her normal duty on the Valiant was supervising the fire control center, and her team efficiency ratings were the highest aboard the ship. If anyone could shed light on their current situation, it was she.
But she’s not one of us. Not yet, anyway. There’s still a lot that she doesn’t know. And there’s too much at stake to throw it all away on someone we haven’t fully vetted.
The damage team spread out from the tether box, grabbing and stabilizing crewmembers as they went. One floated up to the center’s nominal ceiling and anchored themself much as Martin had. Whoever it was planted an emergency lamp, and seconds later the compartment was full of light.
"Sir, at 1245 ship time, an unidentified object approximately 250 meters in length and massing almost 100 kilotons made a hyperspace transition at close range with the Harrow and proceeded to destroy not only that vessel but the tenders Cessnock and Gadwell. I pumped six Geysers with full warheads into the bogey and didn’t even slow it down."
"Are you sure about that, Harlan?"
"Yes, sir. At first we thought it was a rogue comet, but the composition was all wrong, and then the hyper emergence was confirmed. The object collided with us forty seconds later, and then we lost comms and external sensors."
Martin took in this information while he looked around the command center. Charred panels warred with floating clouds of blood for his attention. His ship was dead, and several of his officers along with it. Commander Williams he knew about: Martin was standing next to him when his panel exploded. But the additional losses of Lieutenants Mackie and Charles effectively gutted his senior staff.
Martin waved Harlan over to him, then walked himself down the wall. It felt like running through ankle-deep mud, but at least he wasn’t floating wild anymore. Harlan crossed the room by launching herself at the ceiling, then caroming down in a perfect shot to a space next to him. Her boots attached to the decking right about the same time Martin was upright relative to everyone else, and he had to admire her skill.
Showing off for the boss, Harlan? Or are you like me, and just don’t like wasting time?
Martin motioned to Harlan’s helmet, and the blank glass faceplate nodded. She raised gauntleted hands to her neck and released the helmet’s seals, allowing him to see inside and have a more private conversation. The face inside was a match to her voice: sharp and uncompromising. Martin held her gaze for a few seconds while he deliberated. Finding something in her eyes he liked, he made his decision.
"Okay, Harlan, you’ve got my full attention right now. What was it?"
Harlan nodded, then lowered her voice so that it wouldn’t carry. Her damage control team was herding the injured out, but Martin didn’t want the speculation to get too out of hand. The fact that they were still alive meant something, and he needed level heads around him to figure out what it was.
"Sir, it was moving too fast for a positive ID, but I can definitely tell you it wasn’t a ship. No power signature, no outgassing after the Geysers hit. A salvo like that would have cracked a courier vessel wide open, and a hostile would have fired back instead of ramming us. My gut tells me it’s a mined-out planetoid, but the mass is all wrong."
"Explain." Martin could hear Harlan’s damage control team as they worked to restore order, but they kept clear of the two officers while they spoke.
"There are rocks that size all around the system, but for the most part they’re in stable orbits and fitted with claim transponders. We cleaned the roamers up a few centuries ago, and the rest belong to the mining companies. If something like that was flying around loose, we’d know about it long before it hit one of our ships, and it definitely wouldn’t be this far above the ecliptic.
"So we’re back to my gut. I think it was a mass weapon, but I’m still clueless as to where it could have come from, or who would have fired it."
Martin was about to offer his own theory when a vac-suited crewman with an open helmet slammed into the half-open access door from the corridor, checking himself before he came tumbling into the command center. Both the captain and Lieutenant Harlan swiveled their heads to see what was going on, and Martin recognized the man as a junior engineer on Master Chief Henderson’s watch. The name escaped him, but there were over two hundred people on the Valiant, and most of them were new.
Were being the word of the day. As far as I know, I’ve got a little over a dozen people still alive on this ship, and all of them are in this room.
"Sir . . . Ma’am, we got hit! There’s something stuck in us, and it’s cutting off power through the ship. We can’t . . . well, I don’t know if . . ."
Martin tried not to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the first part of the breathless crewman’s report. At his side, he saw Harlan also keenly intent on what the man was saying. Martin was a heartbeat faster with his question though, and Harlan wisely waited her turn.
She’s got definite promise.
"Stuck? Tell me what you saw, son. That’s all I can ask."
Martin signaled the man to float over, for much the same reason he’d summoned Harlan to his side. There was no need to shout across the compartment if they didn’t have to, and he had a feeling that whatever the crewman had to say, he wasn’t going to like it very much.
In his haste, the crewman almost knocked Harlan loose from her perch, but she was ready for him and applied enough force to cancel his inertia and leave him floating next to a support railing. He nodded his thanks, snapped a tether from his work harness to the rail, then launched into his report.
"Sir, ma’am, the chief told me to get up here right away, said you’d definitely want to know about it. It’s a ship, sir. They must have rammed us, but we’ve got no way of knowing who or how big."
This time, Harlan jumped right in.
"How do you know it’s a ship, Mr. Carson? And where exactly did you come from?"
The engineer was able to handle the captain’s scrutiny for the most part, but the ice in Harlan’s voice left him momentarily speechless. To her credit, she didn’t immediately dismiss the man’s report as n
ot fitting her facts, but like any trained tactical officer she wanted specifics, and not everyone thought in those terms during a crisis.
Plus, she knew his name. Carson swallowed nervously, and his mouth worked a couple times before more words came out.
"Ma’am, we were rotating tertiary power modules on the maneuvering jets up in the hullspace when all hell broke loose. We couldn’t hear anything, of course, but we sure as hell felt it. Since we were already into the lines, we ran a trace back until we found the breach.
"There was too much damage to see exactly what it was, and in that compartment we could only see a cross section of it. But it was definitely metal. And curved. It’s a hull of some kind, or I’ll eat my stripes. The breaching systems sealed up around it good and tight, but once we got back inside we found more of it on other decks. I can’t tell you much more, other than it’s not radioactive, and it’s not one of ours."
Harlan’s face twisted in a scowl, but Martin didn’t think she was upset about her theory being proved wrong. He suspected she was working up a new explanation, and just couldn’t get all the facts to line up.
"Harlan?"
The lieutenant cocked her head slightly, flicking her eyes to the captain before squaring her expression and turning her full attention on the engineer.
"Sir, I’m . . . Carson, how many decks did you check out before Chief Henderson sent you up here?"
"Three, ma’am. We found some other debris as well, some space rock and such, but it was the same kind of metal. Definitely a ship of some kind."
When the engineer finished speaking, Harlan stared past him at the destroyed command center. The silence went on a bit long for his liking, so Martin prompted her with a question.
"What are you thinking, Lieutenant?
Harlan blinked twice and turned her head to look at the captain.
"Sir, I’m thinking that I very much want to know more about this supposed hull."
Martin nodded, and was about to send her to find out when Carson interrupted him.
"But ma’am, it’s . . ."
Homefront Page 4