The Hundred Worlds

by J. F. Holmes

  “We’ll have to hide the cargo on the outside of the ship.” Saully pointed at the aft spaces between Merlin’s nacelles.

  “In the thermal venting areas?” Rosia looked like she was just about to slap Saully. “It gets close to fifteen hundred C in there! You’ll end up with slag or carbon dust!” She shook her head.

  “Not if we keep the gear in the cargo containers. They can handle the heat to twenty-seven hundred C,” Sherry pointed out.

  “That’s not the issue.” Rosia pointed to the specs. “It’s an induction field for heat dissipation. It’ll cook the gear from the inside out.”

  Tito pointed at the aft dorsal cap where the old ship, in her military configuration, would have had a large gun turret mounted.

  “There. We can push the gear in there. It’ll be tight, but it’ll fit, and we can get access to it from inside the ship through the maintenance tube just forward of the avionics bay.”

  “Doable. But those hatches have been welded shut for years. It’ll take some manhandling, but we can get the bulkhead hatches freed,” Rosia approved.

  Chapter 5

  Indera, Merlin’s Ghost, Outer System, Post Wormhole Transition, 2109 hrs

  “Indera Prime Station, this is Merlin’s Ghost, Registered Vessel ID Charlie Tango one five niner niner seven Romeo, out of Gloria System with cargo and passengers for I–” Rosia was sending her ship credentials when she was interrupted.

  “Stand by CT1599R for IFF squawk on gamma freq 134.27. Please comply or you will be fired upon,” came the reply.

  “Affirmative, Control. IFF squawk on gamma freq 134.27. Juliet Yankee is on encrypt.” Rosia flipped a few switches and hit her IFF transponder accordingly. She turned to monitor several fighter groups through the HUD system as the IFF allowed her to avoid collision within so many kilometers. The airspace was crowded with military traffic.

  “Affirmative on IFF squawk CT1599R. Take route approach 250 mark 3 at grid 9. Do not deviate. Control out.”

  Rosia set the auto guidance for the slow route in to dock at the station coordinates she’d been given. They wouldn’t be headed for the armored warehouse. She scrambled out of the seat and hurried down the ladder, where the team members were enjoying conversation and preparing. “We got a problem.”

  Rosia explained what had happened and what she thought was going on. Evidently the UN military was here, and in force. Wings of some of the newest and best fighters were cruising the system in full on Combat Air Patrol, unmarked and in full camouflage schemes. Only the IFF transponders were able to see or ID the craft as ‘other’ for short range avoidance. The part about not getting to the armored warehouse wasn’t well received. Without that gear, they were naked as toast to get anything done.

  “That’s not all,” she explained, “they have heavies here.”

  “Dammit,” Saully said as he leaned back in the chair. “We talking full-sized carriers and battle cruisers?”

  “Whole damn ball game. Someone is looking to invade somewhere that doesn’t seem to be very nice, or expecting a buttload of something bad to be headed this way.” Rosia kept monitoring the ship through her eye implant and a small data pad on her wrist. “We can only go about twenty kilometers per second max until we reach grid nine. That’ll take about three more days. Then we have to slow down to whatever station speed they’re using now. This is totally different from my last trip a few weeks ago.”

  “It’s not your fault, and not the first time we’ve had to fly by our collective nuts,” Jack said. Rosia just stared at him like he had a second head. “Oh, right. Combat pilot, sorry. Anyway, we’ll figure it out.” Jack picked Sparky up and laid him in his lap. The cat purred up a storm and settled into the warmth. “What we need to know is why?” He scratched the cat’s ears a little. “Saully, Sherry, Tito. You three get to work finding out what’s going on. Use the ship’s passives and comm gear to find out anything we can for the next few days. Phil, Rosia, we three get to improvise. I’m assuming, Rosia, that you have some spare parts aboard, yourself?”

  “In case of emergencies.” She grinned. “It ain’t much, but I’m sure we can make do.”

  “Now let’s get busy, people. Only three days to the grid mark, and we’d better have plans.” Jack placed Sparky on the floor and headed out with the others to their respective tasks. Sparky wasn’t happy. That was a comfortable lap!

  Three days Jack and the rest scanned, listened, looked, planned, rummaged, assembled, and hid what was pretty much all they could get for gear. A few minor secondary backup systems had been scavenged for parts, and most everyone hoped they wouldn’t need them. Rosia and Phil got creative and came up with a moderate-grade explosive, made from canisters of powdered oxides used in the CO2 scrubbers, and carbide from emergency flares. The magnesium and titanium leftovers came in handy, too. Jack had cobbled together enough equipment to make a few basic lasguns. No spare power packs, so only four or five shots before they were dead.

  There were some handheld weapons of various lengths made by Tito and Sherry. Blades were always a favorite. Rosia had also presented the group with five ancient slug-throwers; four pistols and a lever-action carbine. The guns were clean and well taken care of, but they belonged in a museum or collection, not on a modern starship. To use such beautiful collector’s pieces in a plan like this seemed almost criminal.

  “Now these…” Tito gave a low chuckle as he gripped the twin Beretta semiautomatics, “are my kind of weapons.”

  “Old firearms?” Jack asked.

  “My Grandpa had some of these in his collection. We would go out into the deserts on Menningez Three and he’d let me fire off a few rounds when we visited. Got real good at it, too.” Tito placed the guns back down on the cloth.

  “These are hardly good against UN body armor,” Sherry said as she admired a six-inch revolver with wooden grips.

  “Been hundreds of years since any armor has had to deal with more than dart or flechette rounds,” Jack mused. “Most body armor today is dealing with directed energy or piercing weapons, not a crushing force like these babies. Hit the legs, arms, hands, neck, or a joint? All vulnerable to a heavy round at high speed. We don’t need to punch through to hurt them. Just hit them enough to disable, distract, or disarm.”

  Rosia looked away momentarily, as though tapping into her mind’s eye, then looked at Jack. “Getting something on comms. I think we’re being redirected.” Rosia legged it up to the bridge and slid into the pilot’s seat. “Say again, Control, that last transmission was garbled.” She listened and realized the frequencies were being jammed. She switched to a different secured channel through the IFF transponder and retried. “Merlin’s Ghost to Control. Do you read?”

  “…ships transit outsystem to these coordinates! System is under attack! Repeat! All traffic transition to these coordinates immediately!” The message was being repeated. A warning alarm went off. Rosia manually took control of the ship and corkscrewed the Merlin’s Ghost. She winced as she realized no one downstairs had been given warning. She hit the intercom. “Buckle up now! Emergency maneuvers! Sorry ’bout that!” she added. The ship twisted right, then climbed away from an exploding ship a few kilometers away. Rosia switched to the UN Emergency Channel known only to deep space and military pilots on the IFF and transmitted. “This is the Merlin’s Ghost inbound for Indera Prime Station, what the hell is going on?”

  “Merlin’s Ghost, this is Lt. Yasmiere of the UNES destroyer Yorktown! Get your ship out of here! We’re under attack, and you’re in an engagement area!”

  “I’m Rosia Young, captain of the Merlin’s Ghost and a retired Lt. Commander UN. ID number seven five echo two three three five seven george foxtrot. Do you need any evacuation assistance?”

  There was a brief pause. “Glad to have you, Commander, but you’re crazy if you volunteer. We have civilians and military on Indera Prime Station that need to be evacuated. We got most of them out, but they took some serious hits and are leaking atmo. What’s your car
go?”

  “It’s mechanical struts and beams for construction. If I dump the load, I’ll have room for about a thousand evacuees.” She mentally estimated maybe a hundred more if they packed them in.

  “Here’s your IFF codes. I’ve transmitted it to your IFF uplink and marked you for special protection from our forces. Be careful! These Tangos are tearing everything up!”

  “Affirmative, Yorktown. Good luck!” She set the codes to direct transmit upon query and hit her thrust to max to make a sweeping, high-delta-V curve into the station. She felt a presence over her shoulder. It was Tito.

  “Whatever’s going on, I’m just letting you know that Sherry’s got a possible broken leg, Phil hit his head hard, Saully is bruised up, and the cat, Jack, and I are okay.”

  Rosia laughed. Figured the cat and Tito would go unscathed. But Jack, being a big muscled hunk of Marine beef, making it through that unhurt surprised her. “Well, someone started a shooting war. The UN isn’t doing so hot. I got a nice gentleman from a ship to give me a carte blanche code to go in to the station port and pick up evacuees. Basically all hell is breaking loose!” She pivoted the ship on its side suddenly as a stream of angry missiles went soaring by and exploded a few hundred meters away. The ship miraculously slid by without damage. Tito was holding on to the copilot seat with everything he had, and the cat was clinging to Tito for dear life. “Get in and buckle up, Sunshine!” Tito had just buckled in when she rolled left and pulled the ship hard over, then reversed at max thrust just as Tito passed out holding the cat’s body strap.

  Mreow! Sparky complained, while hanging on like velcro with every claw he had.

  “Easy for you to say!” She hit full thrust again and hard rolled toward the station’s docks. But the docks were cratered masses of twisted materiel. DAMMIT! Rosia cut thrust and angled the ship toward the upper escape pod docking stations. The pods were all gone, so she should have room to dock there. She nudged the engines to counter her mass and gave some yaw so the docking tube would line up. She was half a kilometer away when she freed the massive bulk of her onboard cargo and nudged the throttle again. The cargo had just enough momentum to spread out like a giant dandelion cloud. She resealed the huge hatches, pressurized the space, and her ship instantly became far more nimble. Silently she scolded herself for not having thought about that earlier when she was trying to avoid their death.

  The ship eased into the area as smooth and quick as Rosia could make it. Tito was recovered by then and made his way down below to help everyone else. Her intercom chimed.

  “Thanks for saving our bacon, I think. We’re pretty beat up down here. Tito and I are heading for the airlock hatch right now, and we’ll get as many to the cargo area as we can,” Jack said. “By the way, I take it when using a lot of power during maneuvers, this ship’s inertial dampers don’t function well?”

  “It’s the old D model. I never got around to changing out that system, and until now I never had a reason.” As if on cue, a kinetic round slammed into a sync orbital a few kilometers away. “They just vaporized one of the warehouses, and the fighting is getting closer.” CLANK! Sprawng! “And we’re being hit by debris from that fight outside! So better move it! Ten minutes, tops, and I’m leaving your Jarheaded asses. Understand?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Squid! The tube is tight, the airlock is open, but they’re leaking atmo fast. Only a few hundred here I can see waiting for rescue, so we’ll be all onboard in about five.”

  “Good deal! Hurry up, ’cause I hate sitting still in a shooting war!” And she meant it.

  A missile detonated in the field of parts debris she’d set tumbling away from her aft end and a few pieces spanked her hull.

  “Dammit, just when I had her freshly painted, too.” Sparky, now being secured to the copilot seat, looked up and meowed a sad cry. “Don’t start, smartass or I’ll space you. I swear I will!” she chided him with a gloved finger. He took that as a firm ‘lay down or else’ and shut up.

  Jack raised his Marine voice to the crowd in the area. “Everybody, listen up! Just yourselves and nothing else! Move it! We leave in two minutes! Move, move!” He encouraged a few into movement toward the airlock and knew the cattle mentality of people. When scared and not knowing what to do, it helped to be nudged a little. Instinct would kick in and they’d start moving together. “Tito, see if you can hurry them the hell up!”

  He and Tito pushed, shoved, coerced, and all but carried the group into the bowels of the cargo ship. He didn’t bother reading faces or even seeing if they were civilian or military. It was an evac, and they needed to get aboard now. As the last few people made it onboard, Tito and Jack shut the hatch and sealed the airlock door. The others inside were herding the strays toward the cargo area.

  Jack reached an intercom panel. “All aboard, and the tube is retracted! Get us out of here!” He felt the momentum build as Rosia added thrust slowly to clear the station and get them headed in a safe direction. He turned to the crowd. “I’m Jack. This is Tito, Sherry, and Saully. We need you to strap in right now. We’ll help you, but you have to hang on!”

  Rosia was doing her best to get the ship up to speed and out of the way without pulping the crew and survivors. Kinetic rounds and missiles were flying about like angry, stinging insects and they weren’t too choosy about targets. But with so many projectiles and debris from destroyed ships and orbital structures, it was getting harder and harder to steer clear without pulling serious Gs. The ship twisted and turned, bucked and shimmied as the former fighter pilot turned cargo jockey guided her beloved Merlin’s Ghost out toward the rim of the system. Several near misses and some debris deflecting off the hull only made it that much more frightening for the passengers. The download she’d received designated coordinates for an escape route to a nearby system. The instructions also said that without the codes, they would be destroyed without question once they’d folded into that space. Rosia had Jack and Tito come up to the bridge, while the others were busy with the evacuees. It was a snug fit.

  “The instructions are clear as day. Anyone that’s folded into the emergency evac area without a code is going to get destroyed. But…” she smiled, “we have a code from the Yorktown. Got it from the UN emergency frequency before we went to rescue those people. We should be okay to jump in about fifteen minutes. We’re clear of the battle space, but I can’t guarantee someone might not send a few parting shots that might tag us before we fold.”

  “Well, I’m glad we’re out of there.” Jack put a hand on Rosia’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “I get paid double for doing it on the fly, Sugah,” she replied in a fake drawl.

  “Considering this was a bust, double of nada is nada!” Tito grinned as he made his way back down the ladder.

  “Asshole,” Rosia mouthed. Sparky just kept his meowth shut. He was a wise cat.

  Chapter 6

  EVAC Point Charlie, Gruilla Military Station, 0710 hrs

  “All evacuation vessels are to register with UN Military Control for processing at these coordinates.” A flash download was placed into the IFF database. “Please follow instructions and obey any directions from UN Military Control.”

  Rosia hit the affirmation on the IFF and linked the download into her HUD. They’d been waiting for hours, as the stream of ships coming in slowly dwindled. At least a few dozen cargo haulers, military transports, smaller vessels, and even some private yachts were in line to debark their passengers. Nothing with the UN ever went fast.

  The air scrubbers for the cargo compartments were okay, for now, but the solid waste handlers were being taxed, as all of the evacuees seemed to want to shit themselves at once. With a few adjustments by Jack and Tito, and some ingenuity from Sherry, a bottleneck was removed at the cost of a small amount of water recovery. Food was the next issue. They had enough rations and real food to last maybe a few days. This worried them, in case the evacuees had to stay aboard longer than three days
.

  Rosia decided to update the crew and get some grub herself. She set the auto guidance, slowly got out of the pilot’s seat, and made her way to the common area. Eighteen hours straight tended to make for a sore, stiff body and a full bladder.

  “Hey, Beautiful! That was some nice flying; care to have some essence of edible gopher?” Phil offered a small plate of something chunky and brown mixed in with rice.

  “As long as it’s edible and hot.” She took the plate and scarfed down the food.

  “I didn’t promise edible. There’s only so much this cook can do with rations, rice, standard soy meal, and spices.” Phil continued to do whatever it was he was doing with the food, humming while he was doing it.

  “Well, whatever it is, you pulled off a culinary miracle. I haven’t eaten food this good in quite a while.” She chewed and swallowed another mouthful while opening a Crisper soft drink pouch. She drank half the pouch and finished up her plate. “Thanks. That was really tasty.”

  “Phil did that all the time in the service,” Saully said from across the table. “Man’s a food genius.”

  “Stop it, Saully or you’ll ruin my reputation as a badass demolitions guy.”

  “Hah! As if you could ruin it any more,” Jack joked from down the hallway. “He can do better as the Leonardo De Vinci of high explosives.”

  “Well, he’s a damn fine SOS slinger.” Rosia looked around the commons. “Where’s Sherry and Tito?”

  “On guard duty,” Saully offered. “They’re making sure they ID people for the UN, and that people have food, first aid, whatever.”