“Atomic ducks?” said Aston with a raised eyebrow. “You’ll have to trademark that one.”
“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I can overstress the forward module and then it’s down to Captain Recker to decide what happens next.”
“Can you guarantee the forward module will restart the aft?” asked Recker.
“I can’t guarantee it, sir. I can only tell you that in theory it should work.”
Recker wasn’t a man who settled for the easy way out and his mind was working. “If the Finality was operating with a single overstressed propulsion module, it wouldn’t be enough to outrun that desolator.”
“No, sir. Not even close.”
“With one overstressed module and one module operating within normal bounds, we’d match the desolator for speed.”
Eastwood looked at Recker closely. “Want me to simulate the outcome?”
“No. And if we ran both modules overstressed, we’d hit eighteen hundred klicks per second. A desolator tops out at sixteen hundred.”
“You worked that out in your head?”
Recker shrugged. “They tell me I have the gift of understanding tech.”
“I don’t think we should rely on an outcome that requires both engine modules to be overstressed.”
“We might need the extra velocity.”
“What are you thinking, sir?” said Aston. She clicked her fingers. “You’re going to take another shot at that cylinder.”
“I’m considering it.”
“Those Terrus cannons will reduce us to scrap,” said Burner. “And the desolators carry more than just Feilars.”
“Odan warheads,” said Recker.
“We won’t escape them easily,” said Aston. “They lock at half a million klicks.”
“If we fire at the cylinder from our max range of 210,000 klicks, we’ll need to put an additional 290,000 klicks between us and the heavy to prevent them obtaining a weapons lock. That’s not far off three minutes’ travel time, assuming we’re at near maximum velocity when we fire our Ilstroms,” said Burner.
Recker smiled. “I appreciate the effort you put into figuring that out, Lieutenant, but we’re not going to be shooting from orbit. The cylinder is fixed in position and we can program the Ilstroms to fly straight for those coordinates.”
“We’ll break up if you’re planning another high-speed pursuit through the atmosphere, sir.”
“I’m just planning to get us out of here, Lieutenant. And if we can fire a few missiles into a Daklan super-weapon at the same time, all the better.”
The words were easily said and Recker knew they’d be hard to live up to. He asked himself if it was even worth having another shot at the cylinder or if he should just take the chance to escape without risking a confrontation with the desolator. Duty was a bitch and sometimes Recker felt like its helpless servant.
“Lieutenant Eastwood,” he asked. “How long will it take to ready the forward module for overstress?”
Chapter Eight
Five minutes was all it required to complete the preparations.
“On your command, sir,” said Eastwood.
Recker’s mind was already made up and he didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”
“Switching forward module to overstressed state.”
The engine module suddenly howled, and Recker felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He watched the output gauge climb to one hundred percent and keep going. The scale recalculated and the reading went past two hundred percent, while the howling transformed into something primal, different to anything Recker had heard before. When the gauge raced beyond three hundred percent, the sound was like the pinnacle of every known technology washing through his body. Still its increase didn’t slow.
“You said three hundred percent, Lieutenant,” he shouted over the noise.
“I did, sir.”
“Then why’s it at 350%?”
“I don’t know. Should I attempt to cancel the overstress state?”
That single word. Attempt.
“Let’s see what it does.”
To Recker’s relief, the output stabilised and he exhaled.
“That’s a 370% overstress, Lieutenant. Any idea why so high?”
“I wonder if it’s because our ternium drive is an old one, sir,” said Eastwood uncertainly. “The fabrication plant only ever tests the modules when they’re new. Maybe the internal structure changes after an extended period. It sounds crazy, but it’s all I can think of.”
“You can put it in your report. Is everyone ready for this?” Recker asked without turning to check the crew’s expressions.
“Hell, yeah,” said Burner.
“Let’s do it.”
Recker’s hands were already resting lightly on the controls and he wrapped his fingers tighter. This was going to be tough. Normal flight involved increasing power to the engines, depending on what you wanted the spaceship to do. With the module being overstressed, it was at constant maximum power which meant the Finality was fighting for full acceleration and the difficulty lay in restraining it. If Recker screwed up in the next few seconds, the ship was going to hit the side of the fissure at high speed.
With exceptional care, he eased the vessel sideways from the crack in which it was hidden. Usually, Recker listened to the variations in the engine note to help him fly. Now, that note was unchanging, making it tough for him to get a feel for the speed and movement. The sensor feeds helped and Recker checked them more than normal.
He made it into the main part of the fissure without hitting the side walls and held the spaceship in place to give Lieutenant Burner a moment to complete a scan.
“There’s nothing overhead, sir. I only have a limited view of the sky.”
“I’m taking us higher.”
The extra resonance from the engine caused hundreds of smaller rocks to cascade down on the hull. It wasn’t as if there was any new paintwork to worry about and the Finality could ride an impact from a hundred million tons of stone - or so Recker told himself.
At a depth of a thousand metres, he halted the spaceship again.
“Anything new?”
“No, sir. The visibility arc is still too narrow. Even if you came to the top of the opening, there’re plenty of mountains that’ll limit what we can see.”
“In that case, I’ll stop pissing about.”
Recker brought the spaceship straight out of the fissure, marvelling at the responsiveness and the ease with which it gained speed. He planned to halt at an altitude of ten thousand metres but overshot by two hundred.
“There’s nothing in visual, sir,” said Burner. “If the desolator is at a high enough altitude, I’ll need time to find it.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant. If they’re so far away, they won’t easily see us either.”
“Don’t bank on it, sir.”
Recker got the hint and he lifted the spaceship higher still, so that it was level with many of the surrounding mountains. He knew where he was going and accelerated along the route he had in his mind, which led directly away from the cylinder.
The Finality didn’t so much gather speed as it threw itself at the horizon. Given the damage the hull had suffered, Recker didn’t want it to heat beyond a couple of thousand degrees, so he held back. The distant groaning of distressed metal told him everything about the health of the spaceship and he willed it to hold together until the mission was over.
“Still clear,” said Burner.
Every second increased the risk they would encounter the desolator, but Recker was determined that he’d get a good shot at the cylinder and that required plenty of distance. They made it halfway around Etrol and Recker decided that was enough. He brought the Finality to a halt, five klicks above an immense boulder-littered plain of light grey stone. The oblique angle of the sun made the shadows long and, for the shortest of times, the emptiness of it took Recker’s breath away.
“Have you programmed the coordinates into the guidance systems,
Commander?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Front and rear clusters.”
Recker was on the brink of giving the order to fire when he heard Lieutenant Burner swear with real feeling.
“Sir, we have to get out of here. Now!”
Eastwood had picked something up with his own monitoring tools as well and he also cursed loudly.
“Hold fire!” he yelled.
“Someone tell me what the hell is going on!” roared Recker.
“Something’s about to show up on the blindside, sir,” said Burner. “I’m reading the biggest damn ternium cloud I’ve ever seen.”
Recker experienced a sinking feeling as he realized the opportunity was slipping away. A voice whispered that he should fire and have done, but this shot at the Daklan weapon was only a bonus and he wasn’t prepared to throw everything away for it.
“What’re we dealing with?” he asked, biting down on his anger.
“It’s more than a single spaceship, sir,” said Eastwood. “Ah, crap. The first one is a heavy lifter.” He swore again. “It’s taking effort to untangle the overlapped particle clouds.”
A feeling of alarm sank deep into Recker’s bones. The Daklan heavy lifters were enormous spaceships and, although they carried comparatively few armaments, they were an opponent far beyond the Finality. Even if they were defenceless, Recker wasn’t sure a riot class had the capability to punch through a lifter’s armour.
That aside, it wasn’t the deep space lifter that had Recker worried. The real concern was its escort – wherever the Daklan lifters went, they usually had some firepower to back them up. Serious firepower.
“Preliminary data analysis suggests an annihilator battleship is about to take a shit in our coffee, sir,” said Burner. “The ternium pattern doesn’t exactly match that of previous sightings.”
“Another new one off the production line.” Recker wanted to curse like everyone else was doing. He bit his tongue. “Hold fire, Commander,” he ordered.
“Ternium cloud decaying, sir,” Burner reported. “Both vessels are now in local space and estimated to be no more than two hundred thousand kilometres from Etrol. The estimated positional data is on your tactical.”
Recker hardly spared it a glance. The timing was a disaster for his hopes of delivering a surprise blow to the Daklan weapon. You didn’t play games with an annihilator. Not in a riot class and probably not in any single HPA warship. From their assumed position, the enemy battleship crew would almost certainly detect the Ilstroms in flight. After that would come the pursuit and Recker didn’t think the Finality had any chance of outrunning the annihilator, overstressed propulsion or not.
Backing down was harder than he’d imagined it would be. “There’re calculated risks and there’s suicide,” he told the crew. “I’ll order one, but never the other. Not here, not when we don’t know the significance of the cylinder.”
“We should attempt a return to base, sir,” said Aston in agreement. “This is one for high command to deal with.”
It was the right decision. Even so, Recker’s heart was heavy as he increased altitude. The spaceship climbed eagerly, and he noticed the output gauge had crept up to 380%.
“Lieutenant Eastwood, check that out,” he ordered, not wanting to spend time worrying about it at the moment. “And we can’t forget there’s a cruiser out there.”
“I’m watching for it, sir,” said Burner.
Although the spaceship wanted to accelerate without restraint, Recker didn’t think the hull could handle another cycle of heating up and cooling down. The creaking and flexing noises were getting worse, like the spaceship would tear apart if it was treated carelessly.
“We’re heading for Sarus-Q,” said Recker. “The moment I’m convinced it’s safe, we’ll kickstart the aft module, ready the ternium drive and head for home.”
“As easy as that,” said Aston.
“Yes, Commander. As easy as that.”
The Finality tore out of Etrol’s rarefied upper atmosphere and Recker gradually increased the engines to maximum. Having become so in tune with a spaceship by listening to its propulsion sound, it was strangely eerie to feel the acceleration without any discernible change to the metallic howling coming from all around.
“No cruiser,” said Burner. “Maybe they gave up.”
“You think?”
“No, sir.”
For ten minutes, Recker held the spaceship on course, heading directly away from Etrol. Lieutenant Burner didn’t locate any sign of pursuit and with each passing second it would be harder for the Daklan to detect the Finality. The atmosphere on the bridge was tense and nobody spoke for a long time.
After thirty minutes, the output gauge topped 400% and Lieutenant Eastwood didn’t have a precise answer as to why it had climbed so high. Even worse, he didn’t have an imprecise answer either. The only positive was that as the output climbed, so did the Finality’s speed.
A full hour after departing Etrol, Recker was ready to order the restart of the aft module. The output was 410% and hadn’t changed in the last fifteen minutes. Lieutenant Eastwood ventured his opinion that it wasn’t going any higher.
“We can do this kickstart in flight?” Recker asked, to confirm what they’d already discussed.
“Yes, sir. If it works, you’ll want to slow us down for the lightspeed jump, otherwise we’ll lose control over the destination.”
“410% on the forward module has got to be enough juice,” said Aston.
“You should see the modules they use at the fabrication plant, Commander. Those ones make ours look like a battery for your flashlight.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
Despite the importance of the coming minutes, Recker felt calm again and he twisted so that he could see how Eastwood was handling the pressure.
“You ready for this, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. I made the final preparations on the way from Etrol. Say the word and I’ll attempt the kickstart.”
There was no benefit in waiting. “Do it.”
For the first time since Lieutenant Burner put the forward module into a semi-stable condition, the howling sound reduced. The output gauge fell, climbed, and then the hull was shaken by a single expulsive thumping sound. After the thump, the howling returned - this time louder than before. Not only that, everything seemed to vibrate and Recker felt a sharp pain developing behind his eyes.
“Aft engine module active!” said Eastwood. “Output, 94%. Uh-oh.”
Recker didn’t need to ask the question – he could see the reason for the uh-oh right in front of his eyes.
“Output now at 110% and climbing. 130%. Tell me some good news, Lieutenant.”
“I have none to give, sir. It seems like the overstressed forward module has kickstarted the aft module into an overstressed state as well.”
“Did you know this would happen?”
“No, sir. I don’t think anyone in the HPA would have known.”
“Can you switch them back to a normal state?”
“I’m checking that out, sir.”
There was more bad news.
“We’re spilling particles again,” said Eastwood. “Only this time it’s not just for a few hundred klicks behind us. They’re pouring out of that hull breach like a flood.”
Eastwood wasn’t exaggerating. The Finality was a long distance from Etrol, but the aft module was doing a damn good job of making the spaceship visible.
“We’re too far away for the Daklan to see us,” said Aston, like she was trying to convince herself. “Surely.”
Suddenly, the numbers weren’t adding up. The Finality required fifteen minutes to warm up for a lightspeed jump and a Daklan annihilator could likely prepare in less than half of that time. If the enemy spotted the ternium leak, they could be here in plenty of time to spoil Recker’s day.
“Lieutenant Eastwood, can you switch the modules back to a stable condition?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir. I think it’l
l take me a few minutes.”
“We might not have a few minutes.”
“The alternative is that we set a course and go,” said Aston.
“It might come to that. Lieutenant Burner, will the Daklan spot us from here?”
“We’re approximately five and a half million klicks from Etrol. If they’re running wide area sweeps for incoming HPA spaceships, they’ll spot us eventually.”
“The Daklan don’t usually make mistakes.” Recker succumbed to temptation and crashed his fist onto the top panel of his console. “Set a course for planet Lustre,” he said.
“The Topaz orbital is six hours closer, sir,” said Aston.
“I know, but they don’t have the facilities to deal with the Finality. Not like this.”
“You think the Lustre shipyard will welcome us with open arms?”
“I’m not about to give them the choice. Lieutenant Eastwood, that’s where we’re going.”
“It’s five days travel, sir,” said Aston. “Maybe we should aim for a shorter run that takes us to the middle of nowhere. That will give Lieutenant Eastwood time to stabilize the engines.”
“What do you think of that, Lieutenant?” asked Recker.
“I’m worried we might not have a second chance, sir. The forward module shows no sign of additional instability. But still…”
“What does your gut tell you?”
“My gut tells me the forward module is going to hold as long as we need it.” Eastwood reached out a hand and patted his console. “It also tells me the Finality isn’t going to let us down, sir.”
“What about the aft module?”
“We don’t have time to wait and see how high that one goes. Not unless you want to shake hands with a Daklan annihilator.”
Recker had no intention of making it easy for his enemy. “If I’m going to die, I’d prefer it to happen at lightspeed instead of giving the satisfaction to the Daklan.”
“Yeah, screw those bastards,” said Burner.
Time was running out; Recker could feel it. He hauled the controls towards him and the spaceship’s velocity readout fell with such rapidity that the life support was overwhelmed. The decelerative forces threatened to pull him from his seat and he quickly adjusted the position of the control bars.
War from a Distant Sun (Savage Stars Book 1) Page 7