“Locks disengaged, sir.”
“Engage port thrusters. Take us clear of the docking rig, Coxswain.” Willi Mann, Chief Warrant Officer and the ship’s coxswain, acknowledged the order. “Docking locks disengaged. Port manoeuvring thrusters engaged.”
Harry watched the docking cradle slide away to port as the ship moved sideways. “Counter thrust starboard,” he ordered as the indicators showed they were now clear of the Prinz and his tethered charges. The display steadied as the movement stopped. “Engage main thrust, heading two hundred seventy degrees horizontal plane, positive angle forty degrees.”
“Main thrusters online heading two hundred seventy positive forty, as ordered.”
“Take station on 846: one thousand metres on her starboard quarter please, Swain.” Harry watched as the ship responded to the commands the coxswain entered. In his head, he was listening to these and the AI as it flashed the orders to its various components. He’d had quite a struggle convincing the ship that it should wait for the command input from the console and not simply read his thoughts and act on them. As with the Beagle, the 847 AI felt this was inefficient, and from time to time jumped the gun, simply because it could.
The ship settled into the routine of normal watch and station keeping around him. Harry glanced at where Regidur sat at his console ready to take over the watch, and he smiled. He had been enormously flattered by the Canid’s desire to serve as his weapons officer and even more surprised to learn that the coxswain had pulled strings with a very large number of people to be posted to his command. He’d known Willi for a while, having remembered him as one of the prize crew sent to bring the Twee Jonge Gezellen back when they had met again on the Beagle. His recent promotion from warrant pilot to chief warrant pilot had given him the opportunity to seek a new posting. This fleet was as much a family as the old sailing navy had been. It was a good feeling.
“On station, sir. Permission to hand over the helm?”
“Granted.” Harry turned to Regidur. “The watch is yours, Pack Leader. Conform to 846 for course and manoeuvering. We are to transit in ten minutes. Link helm to 846 to coordinate it.”
“As you command, Captain.”
He listened as the helm was relieved and Regidur acknowledged. He studied the display around him, marvelling anew at the detail it gave. This mission would be the first time all four flotillas operated together. Twenty-four small, fast and deadly ships committed to a trial strike against a new gathering of Niburu ships, as well as a test of one of the new weapons now available—it promised to be an exciting and dangerous outing, especially for the six ships of the 36th.
“The scientists have come up with an improved way to make our ships poisonous to the Niburu barnacles. The first coating works, but it degrades quite rapidly. It means we’ll be going into dock on rotation to have a new coating applied and some adjustments made to one or two of our weapons.”
There was a collective groan from the assembled officers. “I think we’ve become the test bed for every wacky idea the geeks and boffins come up with,” Kallie Oosthuizen complained. “If they try fitting anything else into my ship, we’ll have to live on the outer hull!”
“I know the feeling.” Harry nudged Ferghal in the ribs. “I’d like to know who thought they could halve the space we need for storing food ingredients so they could fit in extra electronics. I can’t even get to my sleeping cabin until we’ve eaten half of what we carry at the outset of a sweep.”
Ferghal grinned. “You Commanders aren’t supposed to sleep when on passage.” He’d heard this complaint from everyone in the room. “Besides, it’s only for a couple of weeks at a time—then you’re back in the lap of luxury here.”
“Says the man who lives in luxury all the time, and fitted the projection control unit for my ship’s screens over my bunk.” Korinna Hohenstein joined them. She grinned at Ferghal’s embarrassed laugh. “All very well for you to laugh, my friend. Come our next refit, I want it moved.”
“It’s already on my list, Korinna. We can get it done when we apply the new coating to your ship.” Ferghal stood and moaned as if suffering from back pain due to overwork. “You lot would work me to the bone if I let you.” He looked round the group, his expression mischievous. “Aye, but your engineering whippin’ boy can stand the strain. You won’t find a stronger man than this Irish lad anywhere in the galaxy!” He flexed his muscles for emphasis.
Korinna laughed out loud, and Harry bellowed, “Be gone, you rogue! You’ll get no sympathy here—not unless you tell us why this sudden rush to equip us with new weaponry.”
“Ah, now that is not for general knowledge.” Ferghal dodged the thrown cushion. “Besides, it would spoil the surprise.” He flashed a mischievous grin and ducked out the door.
“Targets identified, sir.”
Harry was instantly alert. “Bearing?” He pushed aside his thoughts on the news he’d had recently from Aunt Niamh as the display changed and the pair of Niburu ships became clear.
“Bearing thirty-five horizontal, negative angle twelve.”
“I see them.” Harry got out of his command chair and stared at the displays, his mind already calculating relative approach vectors and transit durations. “Link to the flotilla. Give them our display data.” The rest of the flotilla were waiting in hyperspace for his assessment. He glanced again at the display. “Do a sweep of the entire system. I know it’s a small mining outpost, but I expected more than just two ships.”
“No other targets in the system, sir.” The scan operator was a young TechRate, the youngest man aboard in fact. He grinned cheerfully. “P’r’aps we’ve got lucky, sir.”
Harry returned the smile. “Perhaps, though I’d not make a wager on it.” In his head, as he resumed his seat, he asked the ship, “Eight four seven, are you able to confirm there are no others?”
“There are no other Niburu here, Harry. The operator is correct.”
“Thank you. I don’t doubt him, but I have no desire to be trapped.” He mentally shook himself. “Forget I said that.”
“I will erase the conversation if that is your wish.”
“No, don’t. I’m sorry, I’m being overly cautious. Alert me if you detect any new ships or a change in those.” He hesitated. “Are our stealth screens working? Can you detect any sign that they can see us or sense us?”
“No to both your questions, Harry. They show no sign of being aware of our presence.”
This mission was a testing of the waters, according to Commander Polen. The target was a carefully chosen one, an isolated mining operation attacked by a small group of Niburu ships. It presented the perfect opportunity to test the Fleet’s new weapon, a missile packed with incendiary material that would cause tremendous damage to the target. Like the ship, it was coated with the new material that acted as a poison agent to the Niburu.
Harry, his ordeal still fresh in his mind, had to wrestle with his very real fear as he studied the target. What if the new coating failed? What if more Niburu were lying in wait? Angry with himself for feeling unsure, he pushed these doubts aside and decided he had no choice but to trust the work that had gone into outfitting the ship and her weapons. After all, Ferghal had overseen that work, and Harry knew there was no better man to trust with such exacting work.
“Coxswain, we will micro-transit to two thousand metres from the nearest one. Regidur, launch the missiles as soon as we drop out. Coxswain, as soon as the missiles are launched, I want a micro-transit to ten thousand metres to their front.” He concentrated on his link. “Eight four seven, are the co-ordinates ready?” He listened to the reply. “Pass them to the coxswain, please.” He gripped the armrests of his seat. “Ready, Swain? Good, then here we go. Comms, tell the flotilla.”
Chief Warrant Officer Mann grinned and sent his fingers dancing over his console. “Transit in three, two, one—entering transit, sir.”
The display blanked.
“Drop out in four, three, two, one—drop out!”
The display cleared, and a large section of the hideous, misshapen, ovoid of the nearest ship seemed to protrude into the control room, its details stark and clear. The second ship stood at a distance, and Harry could see the exposed hull. The sight of it sent a shiver down his spine as he saw the appendages clutching smaller vessels to its hull.
“Missiles launched.” The bark from Regidur broke the spell.
“Entering transit.”
Once more, the display blanked, and then it cleared a few seconds later to reveal that the second Niburu ship had vanished, but the first was behaving in a manner that suggested a wounded beast in its death throes. Sections of it broke away releasing huge flares. The thing writhed as if in agony. It was attempting to escape, but was wracked by internal fires and explosions. More sections were flung off as the thing made lunging turns and sudden surges forward or backward.
“Sir, its companion has returned. It’s behind us, sir.”
“Helm, transit to the system edge.” Harry’s mind was already reading off the calculations flashing through the computer. He didn’t wait for the helm.
Chapter 27
Reinforcement
“Great job.” The Commander could hardly contain his delight. “Harry nailed the first one, Korinna got the second, 844 got hit by a barnacle, but now we know that the poison works.” He beamed at his officers. “It’s a small beginning, but at last we have some answers.” He indicated several other officers and some civilians seated to one side. “These folk want to go over what we witnessed after the ships were hit. They’ve studied the recordings, but they want to hear your impressions.” He turned to a Captain who stood and moved to centre stage. “Your show, sir.”
“Well done, all of you. I’m Captain Pedersen, and my brief is weapons development.” He smiled. “While I’m pleased with the result you got with my missiles, my colleagues are rather more interested in several other aspects. Dr. Kennedy,” a large man in civilian dress acknowledged the introduction, “is a member of the team who developed the barnacle poison, and Dr. Istrate—he’s seated there in the back—was among those who developed the stealth system. We need your feedback on how everything performed, but perhaps most importantly, we want your impressions of how the Niburu ships responded when you hit them.”
Commander Polen looked at Harry. “You first, Harry. I think yours was probably the one we didn’t see from the start. Tell us what happened when you hit him.”
Harry hesitated, gathering his thoughts. So many impressions crowded in on him, it was difficult to sort them in order of importance or relevance. He focused his mind on what he had seen as events unfolded, and he let those recollections guide his report. “It gave the appearance of being surprised, sir. Then it began to eject parts of itself, almost as if it were writhing in agony.” He frowned at the memory. “It was terrible to see. It put me in mind of a great whale in its death throes.”
The scientists made notes on their tablets. Dr. Kennedy looked up. “Lieutenant, you say it behaved like an animal in pain?”
“That is how it appeared, Doctor, much like a whale writhing in pain after being pierced with a harpoon.”
One of the other scientists asked, “Did you hear anything, meaning, in your thoughts? I understand you heard the one the flagship destroyed while you were on the hospital ship.”
“No, I’m happy to say I’ve not heard anything like that since we were cured.” He smiled. “You may be sure I’m rather pleased about that.”
The group laughed, and another officer asked, “Was there something in the way the target responded that gave you the impression of a whale?”
“We were rather close when the missiles struck, and it sheered away. I had the impression the missiles distorted its hull as they struck.” Harry frowned. “After our micro-transit to evade any retaliation, it gave every appearance of an animal in pain, changing direction, making small surging movements and shedding sections of the outer hull, but it mostly shed parts that looked like sections of other ships.”
“Could you see any indication the incendiary warheads had ignited?”
“After an initial flare, no. The stricken ship’s companion returned, and I did not linger, as he was close behind us.” He hesitated. “I did form the impression, however, that the target was imploding, and the parts it shed were being drawn back toward it.”
The Captain nodded. “Yes, that is what the recordings show, for the first ship and the second.” He turned to Korinna Hohenstein, Commander of 844. “Lieutenant, perhaps you could tell us your impressions.”
“We had just fired our missiles, sir, when that thing attempted to attach itself to our upper fin. It locked itself to the hull, then a few minutes later, it let go and attempted to attach itself to the hull further aft.”
“Did you attempt evasive action?”
“Yes, sir. But it had us well and truly locked.” She smiled. “It didn’t like its second bite any more than the first. When it came back for thirds, we nailed it with the plasma projectors.”
“So, we know it didn’t like the taste of you, but not whether it would have been killed by the material.” Dr. Kennedy sounded disappointed.
“With respect, Doctor, I think I’m quite content to have it choose not to want to attach itself to my ship.”
Everyone laughed, and the debrief relaxed as each of the commanding officers gave his or her impressions of the kill.
“So, from what you’re telling us, when these ships are destroyed, they display animal behaviour.” Captain Pedersen glanced at his companions. “From your descriptions they shrink in size as the internal fires develop, and we’re left with a dead lump of charred organic matter when it’s over.” He glanced again at his companions. “We’ll need a sample of the remains for analysis, but I think that is a task for another group. Thank you, Commander. Your flotilla have done a magnificent job.”
“We’ve a distress call coming in. It’s one of the LPSL Peace Fleet. She’s giving a location on the edge of our patrol range.” Commander Polen maintained his calm poise. “I want 844, 5, 6 and 7 ready to go in half an hour.” He nodded to the group of officers. “It’s the liner Coniston. She reports damage to her enviro system and says she’s being stalked. There’s a salvage crew on their way to her, but there’s something else. She’s got a passenger and crew list of fifteen hundred. They will have to be taken off, or at least the passengers will.” He let that sink in. “Eight four one and the others are already diverted to the location, and the Thirty-Seventh has been recalled to respond as well.”
“Who will take the passengers off, sir?”
“We’ll have to do it. They’ll be spread between the Prinz, the Stewart and the Dragon.” He smiled. “They’ll find us a little less luxurious than they’re used to. I’m afraid you and your crews will have to live aboard your own ships while we take them to safety, though you’ll have access to the Prinz’s recreation facilities, of course.”
“That’s going to be fun,” Korinna whispered to Harry. “I’ve got the passenger list here—most of them are wealthy snobs and LPSL supporters, and there’s the DigiCor vid crew with Monty Montaigne aboard. They’ve probably had a rude awakening by now.”
Harry suppressed his laugh just in time, as the Commander was speaking again, ending the meeting, and everyone was standing to depart. Harry leaned in and murmured, “You mean I might find myself confronting people who think I have horns, cloven hooves and a tail? That will be fun.”
Korinna smiled conspiratorially as they headed for the door. “You can always hide on 847 and leave it to us to make sure they see you that way,” she quipped.
“As my reputation is already destroyed, I shouldn’t think you could make it any worse.” Harry grimaced. “Perhaps having to speak to me will give them a different view.”
Just catching up with them, Kallie overheard Harry’s remark and laughed. “Not if they see that sword you keep on your bulkhead.”
“We have contact with the Coniston, sir.”
“Good. Any sign of the Niburu?” The Commander was using 847 as his flagship, but had insisted that Harry continue to occupy his command chair.
“Negative, sir, but there is an unidentified contact on the edge of our scan range. It reads as a cruiser but doesn’t have an active transponder.”
“Show me.” The image, rather indistinct, appeared on the display. “What other indicators can you read? Is it a live ship or a hulk?”
“She reads as live, sir. At least, some of her systems are active.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Comms, get Commander Waterhouse on link.” He turned to Harry. “Take us to the Coniston. Signal the others to follow us in. Use an approach that keeps everyone guessing.”
“Lieutenant Commander Waterhouse online, sir.”
“Michael, we have a strange ship on scan. Take 830 and 831 to do a running sweep and find out who or what it is. I’ve a bad feeling about it, so don’t attempt to close in. Run a full scan and stand off to let me know what you find.”
“Will do, sir. We have her on the extreme range of the scans. There’s definitely something odd about her.”
Harry already had the ship plotting courses and jumps. He studied the solutions then sent them to the helm. “Mr. Mann, stand by to take us in. You have the way points? Good, on my mark.” To the ComsRate he said, “Make to the Flotilla, ‘Follow my leader.’”
The ComsRate grinned and activated his signals desk. “Aye, aye, sir!” After a few swift movements of his fingers, he said, “Acknowledged, sir—846 says, ‘Let’s play tag.’”
Harry grinned. “Tell him he’s It. Ready, Swain? Link helms. On my mark: three, two, one—engage.”
Up close, the damage to the Coniston’s environmental section was obvious. There was visible damage to other parts of the hull as well.
Awakening Threat Page 24