by J. N. Chaney
Time passed. Mol just sat back, watched the tactical display, and occasionally tweaked the flight management system. The plan was for her to run lengthwise through the asteroid belt on the near side of the star, then reverse course and do the same thing on the far side. She should be able to traverse a good eighty percent of the belt that way. That left twenty percent uncovered, but the thinking was that they’d either detect the Nyctus if they were here, or at least provoke them into some sort of response.
Trixie’s syrupy music suddenly cut off.
“Uh, Trixie? What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. Just wait a second.”
Mol sat up and cinched her harness. The tactical display didn’t show anything amiss. There were no surveillance or targeting scanners active, or any power emissions that might indicate hidden ships or installations. Of course, the Nyctus were just as capable of Shading their ships, so that didn’t necessarily mean much. But if that was the case, what had caught Trixie’s attention? Not being organic or, strictly speaking, even alive, she wasn’t vulnerable to what Thorn called Joining. At least, that’s what he’d told her. But Shading was different. It prevented anyone or anything from seeing whatever was being Shaded by doing something magical. Blocking or redirecting light and radiation, or something like that. Mol wasn’t even sure.
“Trixie, an update would be nice.”
“A discreet group of twenty-two asteroids are displaying slightly different orbital characteristics than essentially all of the rest.” As she spoke, the nav display zoomed in and highlighted the asteroids in question. Sure enough, they were orbiting the star a little more slowly than their fellows, and on a slightly different trajectory. The difference was only a fraction of a degree, but it was real.
“What’s causing it?” Mol asked.
“I don’t know. It could be a perturbation by a passing body of some sort. But that wouldn’t likely affect only one, specific group of asteroids, and none of the surrounding ones.”
“Inform the Hecate.”
“Done.”
A message on the comm panel confirmed that the Gyrfalcon had just sent an omnidirectional burst transmission. That was pretty standard procedure, which was the point, of course.
“Okay, then, let’s go check this out, shall we?” Mol said, entering a new trajectory into the flight management system. The Gyrfalcon veered as its thrusters fired, orienting it onto a new course. Mol powered up the weapon systems, and switched the point-defense battery into active mode.
“Weapons tight, Trixie,” she said. That would prevent the Gyrfalcon from firing on any target not positively identified as enemy. It was more restrictive than weapons free, which allowed shots at anything not identified as friendly. Things could get confusing very quickly, though, and Mol didn’t want to take any chances.
“Twenty-two minutes to the edge of the asteroid belt. Forty-six minutes to the anomalous cluster of asteroids,” Trixie said.
Mol took a deep breath, let it out, and waited.
The time and distance ticked down.
They reached the edge of the asteroid belt. Unlike some she’d traversed, this one wasn’t especially crowded. The average distance between the rocks was nearly ten thousand klicks. There were clumps, though, where they came within a few hundred klicks, or even a few tens of klicks. Their anomalous little group of rogue asteroids were spread across about a thousand klicks, making it a tight cluster.
Mol aimed the Gyrfalcon for the heart of it.
“Okay, Trixie, let’s go active on the surveillance scanners. Aw, hell, fire up the targeting scanners, too. Make us look as paranoid as you can.”
“Will do.”
The Gyrfalcon began radiating energy at the asteroids, lighting them up with scanners ramped to full power. It turned the fighter into a conspicuous beacon, one that should shine gloriously on any watching scanners.
“Mol, are you sure this is the best approach? Doesn’t making ourselves this obvious seem kind of, um, obvious?”
“If the squids think we’re onto them, they’re probably—”
The Gyrfalcon abruptly wrenched hard to one side, and began to decelerate hard. Mol grunted as she was flung against the harness. She had to fight the sudden g-forces to reach the controls, switch the fighter from flight management mode to manual, and take direct control.
The fighter kept slowing, as though flying into thick syrup instead of empty vacuum. Mol tapped at the controls, firing the thrusters, throttling the drive up and down, trying to regain control. Whatever had grabbed the Gyrfalcon had a grip like titanium alloy, though, and refused to let go.
“Captain Tanner, the Gyrfalcon’s slowing down, fast,” Osborne said, eyes fixed on his Tactical station.
Tanner checked the repeater built into his command seat. The fighter was, indeed, slowing fast. Either Wyant had started decelerating hard, or something was causing her to decelerate hard.
“Okay, Tac O, let’s see what the reconfigured scanners show us,” he said.
Osborne tapped at his controls, switching the Hecate’s main display to show data from a redundant scanner system. Normally used as a back-up in case of battle damage, this one had been configured to detect gravitational anomalies. It made them useless for anything else, but Tanner considered it worth the risk.
“Look at that,” Osborne said.
Tanner stood and walked up to the viewscreen. The display showed two broad swathes of anomalous gravitation emanating from two of the asteroids. They intersected squarely on the Gyrfalcon.
“Looks like our visiting Starcaster was right,” Tanner said, then strode back to his seat and hit the ship-wide address. “All hands, we are no longer at General Quarters, we’re at Battle Stations. Weapons status is now weapons-tight.”
He tapped another control. “Commander, you’ve done your part well. Time to stand ready for things to get intense.”
“Aye, sir,” came the clipped reply. The voice, a woman’s, plucked at Tanner. Not because he wasn’t happy to have her aboard, but because he was used to having Stellers in the witchport. The man’s facility for magic was literally awe-inspiring, and although Tanner would never admit it, he found Stellers’ presence on the Hecate pretty damned reassuring.
Tanner allowed himself a brief, inward scowl. Thinking like that was dangerous. No ship or crew could become too dependent on what amounted to a single point of failure.
Mind you, Stellers really was that good.
The woman’s voice again hummed across the intercom. “I’ve dropped the Shade, Captain. We’re already attracting some magical attention from the squids.”
“Not surprised. Thank you, Commander Narvez.”
He’d wanted a Starcaster to replace Stellers, and he’d got one. Narvez had been based at Code Nebula for a long time now, and Tanner had worried she might not be up to front-line action. Her terse, strictly professional attitude helped put his mind at ease, but the real test would be coming shortly.
Tanner leaned back in his seat. “Tac O, power up the reactive armor and go to weapons free on my command. Helm, take us in, best possible speed. Wyant needs our help.”
The Gyrfalcon bucked and shuddered, as whatever net of sorcery had engulfed it bled off its velocity. Mol knew it was magic, because nothing was registering on the tactical display. As far as the fighter’s fire control system was concerned, there were no targets, and nothing was happening.
“Shit!”
Mol tapped at the controls, trying to break the Gyrfalcon free of whatever had snagged it. It didn’t work, though, and the fighter just slowed more and more.
“Gyrfalcon, Hecate. What’s your status?”
“Pretty much a fly in a spiderweb, Hecate. Any help would be much appreciated.”
“We’re on our way. Do your best to hang on.”
“Like I’m, what, not going to do that?” Mol muttered, but without keying her mike. When she did hit transmit, she kept it as calm and professional as she could.
“Roge
r, Hecate. Gyrfalcon out.”
“It would seem that playing bait for the Nyctus trap has worked very well,” Trixie said.
“Gee, you think? Trixie, can you tell me anything about how they’re doing this?”
“I’m sorry, Mol, but conventional scanners—”
She stopped.
“Trixie?”
“Four Nyctus ships have just emerged from cover behind a large asteroid. A heavy cruiser, and three destroyers.” Data flicked onto the tactical display, painting the enemy ships as icons, each with a brief summary of course, speed, and other vital stats.
“Well, shit. This just gets better and better,” Mol said, then narrowed her eyes at a much closer asteroid. A faint power signature emanated from it. Without hesitating, she slewed the Gyrfalcon around. The fighter responded like a clunky old scow, but she still had enough multi-axis control to at least turn it in place. As soon as the asteroid had slid into a decent firing solution, and Mol got tone lock, she loosed a salvo of missiles.
They crept off the launch rails, drives burning furiously. Plasma exhaust washed over the Gyrfalcon’s hull as they slowly moved away, seemingly about as fast as Mol could walk, if she weren’t in a hurry.
“Fly, you bastards!”
The Gyrfalcon shuddered again, then came to a complete stop, dead in space. The four Nyctus warships changed course to intercept the approaching Hecate. Mol killed the missiles’ drives and just slumped back in her crash-couch. Of course. Why not? They had her stuck fast and helpless, and now planned to add an ON destroyer to their catch of the day.
“Well, shit.”
“The squid ships will be at long range in three minutes, Captain,” Osborne said.
Tanner nodded, but kept his attention on the stricken Gyrfalcon. It had come to a dead stop at the intersection of the two, beam-like gravitational anomalies, which had now been joined by a third. Each emanated from a separate asteroid. Saving Wyant meant disabling whatever was generating those gravity beams, and that meant targeting something. Just pouring shots into an asteroid almost two klicks across wasn’t very efficient, though. They needed better targets.
Tanner punched the intercom. “Commander Narvez, we’re not detecting anything we can treat as a target on those rocks. Can you help us out?”
“One moment.”
Tanner flicked his attention back to the approaching Nyctus flotilla. They still offered the Hecate no firing solutions, being too far away. As soon as they were in range, though, Tanner had to engage them, so he could draw them in. That made the timing pretty damned tight, if they were going to rescue Wyant, while also keeping the squid ships busy.
The squid ships that had the Hecate outgunned five or six to one.
“Firing solutions are up, Captain,” the Tac O said.
Tanner’s gaze snapped back to the tactical situation. None of the firing solutions had even broken a ten percent hit probability, but Tanner didn’t wait. He needed to keep the squid ships busy, for a few minutes, anyway.
“Tac O, weapons free. Stand-by to fire a full-spread of missiles at the squid ships,” he said.
Osborne glanced up from his station. “Sir, firing solutions are—”
“Are garbage, I know.” Tanner raised one hand toward Osborne, a wait gesture. He stabbed at the intercom with the other.
“Commander Narvez, talk to me.”
“Look at the reconfigured display, sir.”
Tanner did, then raised his eyebrows. “Well, how about that. Well done, Commander.”
He spun back to Osborne. “Okay, Tac O, here’s what I want you to do.”
Mol decided to just lounge. To lay back in the crash couch, and just wait for, well, whatever the hell was going to happen. Because, whatever it was, it obviously wasn’t going to involve her.
“Trixie, how about some music?”
“Is that really appropriate, given the situation?”
“Given this situation, I’d call it perfectly appropriate.”
“Any requests?”
“Surprise me,” Mol said, smiling.
Sure enough, syrupy Dad Rock wafted out of the speakers and drifted through the cockpit. Mol’s smile became a laugh.
“Oh, Trixie, you’re so predictable—”
“Gyrfalcon, Hecate. We’re sending you some repeated data from our reconfigured scanners,” Tanner’s voice cut in, truncating the music.
Mol sat up and looked at the tactical display, as Trixie painted it with the new data. It showed the Gyrfalcon at the intersection point of three diffuse beams of something that emanated from three different asteroids. Each of the asteroids, in turn, glowed with multiple, silvery-white points of light. They included the one from which she’d detected that diffuse power emission.
“Hecate, got it. Uh, what am I looking at?”
“The beams are the gravitational trap that you’re stuck in. Those points of light mark the locations of squid shamans, in witchports set into the asteroids.”
“Okay. Thank you, Hecate. Now, if I could only do something about that.”
“Stand by.”
“Mol, the Hecate has launched a missile barrage,” Trixie said.
Mol switched the display back to the general tactical output. Sure enough, a flurry of icons raced away from the Hecate, tracking a missile salvo she’d just loosed at the four squid warships. The range was pretty long, though, so the firing solutions must suck.
Mol took a breath and waited. If anyone could get her out of this, she told herself, it would be Tanner.
“Gyrfalcon, are you ready to maneuver?” Tanner asked.
Mol sniffed. “Am I—? Uh, no, Hecate, I’m still stuck fast in these beams, or whatever they are. I’ve killed the drive, since there’s no point—”
“Light it back up and stand-by.”
Mol’s fingers danced over the controls. She relit the drive, but kept it at minimum thrust, to avoid stressing the Gyrfalcon’s structure too much. The fighter still shuddered and rattled, but Mol rode it out, having every confidence that Tanner had this under control.
Seconds ticked by. Something groaned behind her, and to the right. Trixie started to complain.
“Mol, two of the battle damage sensors are showing an unusual amount of deformation in the starboard structural system, ribs R-2 and R-3.”
“I know, I see it.”
“Mol, I’d suggest shutting down the drive.”
“Good idea, Trixie, and I’d normally agree with you, but—” Mol tapped at the systems monitor, checking the battle damage display.
“But?”
“But, Tanner said to stand by, so we’re standing by.” She licked dry lips as she said it. Trixie’s worry wasn’t coming out of nowhere. The structural components she’d named were, indeed, flexing about 10 percent more than they should be, causing the Gyrfalcon’s whole inner skeleton to start twisting and deforming.
For a few more seconds, anyway, she thought, looking back at tactical. The Hecate’s missile salvo kept racing toward the squid ships, who’d now loosed a return volley, a much bigger, nastier one than the destroyer had fired. Worse, about half of the Hecate’s missiles were falling back, their drives throttling back.
Mol leaned her head back. The squids must somehow be interfering with the Hecate’s missiles, now, too. This trap was a lot bigger, more powerful, and more deadly than they’d thought.
And Mol was stuck fast in the heart of it.
Another low groan, more drawn out, cut off by a sudden, sharp squeal. Damage control flashed red. One of the stressed ribs had cracked, transferring its load of dynamic forces onto its fellows around it. Now they all began to warp under the stress.
Mol cursed and reached for the engineering panel, to cut off the drive. As she did, though, she saw Hecate’s wayward missiles suddenly start burning again, but directing their thrust in an entirely different direction. It took her a few seconds to figure out why.
They were suddenly inbound straight toward the asteroid nearest to her, the one
radiating one of the gravity-whatever beams at her. The squids must have realized the threat, too, because first one beam, then another, swept away from the Gyrfalcon to counter the immediate threat of the Hecate’s missiles, only a few minutes from impact.
The Gyrfalcon lurched, then leapt forward.
“Mol, we’re maneuvering again!” Trixie shouted, and for just an instant, Mol heard the voice of her old friend. But she concentrated on flying the fighter, immediately orienting it up relative to the ecliptic plane and burning at full power.
The Gyrfalcon pulled away, once more a graceful creature of speed and agility, and not just a lump stuck in a trap.
“Squid missiles seventy seconds out,” Osborne said, his eyes locked on his panel.
Tanner nodded. Wyant had got underway again, as the squids turned their attention to the sudden rush of missiles from the Hecate. The projectiles had little chance of actually hitting anything, but that didn’t matter. They’d done their job, and helped save the Gyrfalcon.
Now, they just needed the rest of the task force to save them.
“Point defense systems are going active.” Osborne watched his display for a moment, then looked up at Tanner. “Fire control predicts a sixty-five percent take-down rate for these squid missiles before impact, sir.”
“How many does that leave?”
Osborne swallowed, hard. “Eighteen, sir.”
Half that many would cripple the Hecate for sure. Tanner shook his head. “Talk about overkill.”
The seconds passed. Tanner heard the distant, dull buzz of the point-defense batteries firing, spewing streams of projectiles at the approaching missiles. He could feel it through his seat. He could tell which batteries were firing, just by the sound and feel.
Do I know my ship, or what? Tanner mused.
But the pride would be short-lived if the rest of the task force didn’t intervene in—
“Forty-five seconds to the first impact. They’ll happen fast after that,” Osborne said, swallowing again.
Tanner sat back. Had something gone wrong? He had no way of contacting the rest of the task force, not while it was as Shaded as its bulked-up complement of Starcasters could manage.