Awakening Threat

by Patrick G Cox

  Chapter 31

  Pursuit

  “We have a problem. I expected the second ship to follow us in or to come to the aid of the first, but he has not, so he must be waiting for us to attempt transit.” Ferghal and Reza listened as Harry explained their predicament. “He was detected when we made the micro-transit, and likely will be expecting us and will fire as soon as we attempt escape.” He looked at his companions. “I have no fresh ideas, and I’m hoping the three of us can come up with something.”

  Ferghal showed his concern and shook his head. He glanced at Reza. “What think you?”

  Reza was frowning in thought. “We could transit and open fire as soon as we have him on scan, but we don’t know where he’ll be.”

  Harry nodded. “It’s an idea. We may have no other alternative, but I’d prefer to evade him rather than fight.”

  “Can’t we call for assistance?” said Ferghal.

  Harry shook his head. “My orders are to maintain silence at all cost. We are carrying something or some message of vital importance.” He pulled a face. “It’s so sensitive that it could not be conveyed in any usual manner for fear of it falling into the wrong hands. Ours is very likely not the only copy, but I don’t know that for certain.” He met their surprised expressions. “I will break the signalling silence if I’m convinced we cannot evade our pursuers, but it will certainly attract others, and I do not wish to contemplate the outcome of that.”

  Ferghal nodded. “I see your dilemma.” He frowned. “Perhaps we can entice one of the ships to search for us here. He might come to seize us if he thinks us helpless.”

  “He might, but how do we make him think that?”

  Ferghal had that look Harry knew so well, that meant his mind was working on a solution. “If I have your permission, I can prepare our launch as a little trap for him. I’ll give it a shell of sorts. I can change its hull signature enough to make it seem like a damaged version of ourselves.”

  Harry nodded. “Yes, I think I see your intent.”

  “If we give it some weapons, it could launch an attack on them when they arrive,” Reza said, catching the mood.

  “A good idea.” Harry made his decision. “Then we had better begin. If we linger, others may come, as I feel sure these ships were watching for us or some other messenger.” He paused. “I like the idea of arming it, but I think we should also turn it into a fire ship of sorts. We’ll let them attempt to take it, and then allow it to destroy them.”

  It took far longer to put Ferghal’s plan into action than Harry liked, but there was no help for it. To frustrate their progress even further, they had to work in EVA suits, but eventually, they built a strange-looking frame around the launch, and attached to it a shell of packaging, metal canisters and other detritus—even some small asteroids from the ring—to create a rather crude and battered replica of their own silhouette. The key was to give it the appearance and at least some of the mass of 847.

  Harry studied the result with much dubiousness. “I cannot see them believing this. Even with the missiles shipped, it still doesn’t have anything like the correct mass or size.”

  Ferghal shrugged. “True, but we do not see as they see. We don’t even know what they see, except that they rely on some sense that detects movement.”

  Harry’s frown deepened. “You’re right. We have nothing except the launch to lose.” He leaned back in his chair. “Ferghal, I shall leave the operation of our decoy to your control.”

  Ferghal nodded, his attention already on his cyberlink to the launch. “Then I shall make a feint as if to escape, but make sure the ship notices it.”

  “Scan, I want you to watch for any indication of a ship dropping out.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The minutes ticked by in silence. Harry’s mouth was dry as he watched the tiny symbol of the decoy moving steadily away from their hiding place. He closed his eyes and used his cyberlink to see what Ferghal and the launch were seeing. The damaged cruiser appeared, its orbit dangerously close to the outer ring of the planet that 847 was keeping between herself and the enemy.

  Plasma bolts streaked from the cruiser, and Ferghal turned the decoy away, opening the range, careful to keep the silhouette as full as possible. Harry bit his lip. The damaged ship was using her manoeuvring engines to change position, though these didn’t seem very effective. He winced as a bright bloom burst from the other ship, then he realised she had been hit by something from the ring itself, possibly a lump of rock. As ever, the laws of motion came into play, and as the ship dropped toward the ring, several bright flares signalled additional impacts.

  “Ship in drop-out, sir!” The ScanRate’s voice cracked with tension.

  Harry didn’t hesitate. “Transit, 847!” he said to the ship, and then to his crew, he said, “Helm, maximum power. Scan, any contacts?”

  “Yes, sir. Two, closing.”

  “Human?”

  “It’s giving the same signatures as the ones we’ve just left, sir.” The ScanRate looked across. “They’re not showing normal life signs, sir, and there’s no transponder contact.”

  Harry thought furiously. “Eight four seven, where will we drop out if I give the order in another two minutes?”

  “That would not be wise. We would be inside the shell of a recent supernova.”

  “Not wise at all.” Harry agreed, and hesitated. “Very well, we have no choice but to keep running. Ferghal, what has happened to the launch?”

  “The second ship captured it, but I think he’s lost interest in further pursuit. Our missiles did their work.”

  “One less, at least. I wish to change course and will need that reserve speed you promised. Can you give it?”

  “I’ll give whatever I can. Tell me when you need it.”

  “I will.” Harry drew back from his link. “Helm, we will alter course, ninety degrees to port. On my mark.” He counted down the seconds mentally. “Now.” Through his cyberlink, he reached for Ferghal. “Give us everything you can manage, my friend.”

  Admiral Heron woke as his link chirped. “Heron.”

  “Sir, we’ve a report of several of those Trojan ships converging on an unknown target in hyperspace.”

  “Origin of this?” The Admiral was instantly alert and pulling on his boots.

  “The destroyers Danea and Dragon, sir. They picked up the contact on one and followed it, and then found more. The target these ships are chasing is just beyond hyperspace scan range.”

  The Admiral pulled on his jacket as he strode to the Command Centre. He was already visualising the deployment of his patrols and forces, drawing up a possible plan for supporting the destroyers and attacking the intruders.

  “Contact Strike Group Three,” he said to the Operations Officer on the link. “They’re closest to Danea’s patrol area. Order them to make for her position and pursue these Trojans.”

  He entered his operations centre, his eyes seeking out the symbols showing the location of his forces in the display. He found what he was looking for, and after a quick appraisal of the task group’s ships and a calculation on his tablet, he said, “Send Task Group Four to intercept the Trojan ships at grid forty-six. If that trajectory is correct, and they don’t change course, they will pass through it.”

  His staff was busy as he spoke, and the Flag Lieutenant acknowledged the orders. “Done, sir.”

  “Very well.” The Admiral took his chair. “Now we wait.” He glanced at his Flag Lieutenant. “Have you had breakfast yet, Flags?” He smiled at the surprised look. “It’s a little early perhaps, but I think some coffee and something to settle it would be a good idea.”

  “I’ll order some for you, sir.”

  “No, I’ll do it myself.” He glanced round the command deck. “A little something won’t go amiss among the rest of you either, I suspect.” He touched his link.

  “Sir, we’ve got some very faint contacts on the extreme range of our scanners. They seem to be some of ours.” The ScanRate fiddle
d with his settings, his faced creased in a worried frown. “I think I’m getting transponders.”

  “Show me.” Harry was on his feet at the man’s shoulder. They had been running away now for almost twenty-four hours. Each new contact made the situation worse, and it was out of the question to drop out somewhere to hide. With this number of ships closing on them, he had no option but to keep running.

  “There, sir. It’s right at the extreme edge of our range. They’re not closing in, just matching our course.”

  “Keep watching.” Harry rubbed his eyes. The last few hours were certainly taking their toll on his reserves. “How many of these fellows have we now?”

  “Three behind us, sir, one out to port and another closing in from starboard.”

  Harry nodded. “Anything else?”

  The ScanRate frowned. “Not sure, sir. Some contacts keep appearing and vanishing about five degrees off the starboard bow. Looks like it could be transponder traffic, but I can’t actually get anything.”

  Harry spoke to the ship. “Eight four seven, what do you make of the scan on our starboard bow?”

  “It may be some Fleet ships, Harry. Do you want me to contact them?

  “No, only if they signal us with the right code.” Harry considered his best course of action. It could be a case of any port in a storm. He made his decision. “Helm, alter course five degrees to starboard.”

  The Coxswain made the correction and reported the new course.

  “The contact to starboard is now closing fast, sir.”

  “Will he reach us before we can see who that fuzzy contact of yours is?”

  The ScanRate grinned. “No, sir.” He ran a predictive plot. “But it’ll be darned close. I just hope the fuzzy signal is from our guys and not some more of theirs.”

  “That makes two of us.” Harry asked the AI, “Can you detect any of our ships on the hypercoms? Where are they?”

  “A task group is ahead of us, Harry. They have not yet detected us or our pursuers. Shall I send a contact to the leader of the group?”

  Harry considered this. “Yes, contact the leader’s AI. Send it our coordinates, but do not identify yourself unless it uses the special code.”

  “It is done. It is the starship Constellation and her group.” There was a pause. “Constellation demands my identity, and asks for the Spartan’s Ancient Mariner.”

  “Tell him you have the Spartan’s lost one.” Harry hesitated. “See what response you get.”

  A moment later, the ship said, “He replies, ‘Tell the Ancient Mariner to make more sail.’”

  Harry chuckled. “Excellent. That’s the code I’ve been waiting for.”

  To Lazlo, he said, “Your contact should become more visible now. It’s a Fleet task group with a starship.” Harry pushed himself out of his chair. “Regidur, we still have the drone in our hangar. Can you turn it into a bomb for me? We may be able to entice one of our pursuers to chase it and take it aboard. Maybe that will help us buy some time. Let’s hope so. We need it.”

  Time dragged. The only indication of change in the grey cold of hyperspace was the faint luminescence surrounding the ship and the changing relative positions on the display. The gap between 847 and the Trojan ship closing from their starboard quarter was narrowing. It put Harry very much in mind of the slow movement toward an enemy ship during his days aboard HMS Spartan during the Napoleonic Wars. It had a leisurely feel to it, yet the outcome could be catastrophic. One never knew until the moment came.

  Regidur’s bark of alert broke the silent tension. “The enemy will be in range of his projectors in another hour, Leader.”

  “Thank you, Regidur. We’ll launch the drone as soon as he’s close enough.” Harry glanced at the display. At least the Fleet ships were visible now, but they were two hours away. His only hope might be the enemy attempting to catch the drone when they launched it. He wracked his brain to think of a way to make the other ship, or at least her Commander, think the drone was more important.

  “Beg pardon, sir.” The ComsRate broke into his thoughts. “I been wonderin’ how you planned to make the bugger chase the drone.”

  Harry gave him a surprised look. “I was wondering the same thing myself, Lyon. Do you have a suggestion?”

  The man looked sheepish. “Matter of fact, sir, yes. But I ’spect you’ve thought of it already.” He held Harry’s interested gaze, then blurted, “We could get it to send homin’ signals to the Fleet and broadcast a message sayin’ it’s got the package or somethin’, sir.”

  “Actually, I hadn’t thought of that,” Harry said. He brightened up. “Damn me! It’s worth a try.” He leaned forward. “What do you need to do it?”

  “I can get me Oppo up to relieve me, sir, an’ it’ll take a matter of minutes to install a hand emitter programmed to send the message you want.”

  “Do it. I’ll write out a message for you.” He remembered something. To the ship’s AI, he said, “Tell Constellation we are going to launch a decoy and to ignore its transmissions.” He handed the ComsRate the note. “That ought to be sufficient.”

  The man read it. “Looks important, sir. Where’s it come from?”

  Harry laughed. “Psalm 43, from the King James version of the Bible—not your modern translation. I hope the Rear Admiral on Constellation has a sense of humour.”

  “Launch the drone.” Harry leaned back in his chair. The closing ship was now close enough to make out the larger features on her hull. “Mr. Mann, as soon as it’s clear, turn away to port ten degrees and put us on a descent of five degrees.”

  “Drone away, sir.” The TechRate relayed the message from the hangar.

  “Altering course, sir.” The Coxswain announced. There was a pause. “Steady on new heading, sir.”

  Regidur was engrossed in his targeting system. ““Enemy has not changed direction, Leader. If we change course, it will delay his being in range by ten minutes.”

  “It isn’t much, but it is a small gain, I suppose.” Harry studied the relative positions of the pursuers. None seemed to be taking his bait. He listened to the comms channel through his link. The drone was barrelling along their old course happily reciting the psalm in the tones and accents of his ComsRate. He wondered how much of it the man understood. The words sounded archaic even to his own ears now that he was used to the language of this century.

  Chapter 32

  Chink in the Armour

  “Enemy in range,” announced the ScanRate. There was a pause. “He is attempting to obtain a targeting lock.”

  So that part of the ship’s system is still functional, thought Harry, though the ship assured him the AI and the humans aboard were not. “Very well, Mr. Mann. I need to take direct control for a few seconds.” Harry hesitated. “I’m going to try a rather drastic manoeuvre.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Willi Mann, the Coxswain, had fallen into the same habit as everyone else, using Harry’s ancient acknowledgement. “Fair warning, sir—whoa, what just happened!” he exclaimed, as the display seemed to spin around them. The hull groaned with the strain, and in the next moment they were hurtling straight for their pursuer.

  To Regidur, Harry said, “Now, Pack Leader. Let him know we have teeth as well.”

  Regidur grunted a response.

  The enemy ship filled the forward half of the display along with several beams of energised particles. The hull groaned again as Harry forced 847 into a vertical turn, then again as he sent her diving over the other ship’s hull into a nearly vertical plunge. Exclamations of surprise, distress and alarm broke from the crew around him as the artificial gravity struggled to compensate for the sudden violent changes in equilibrium. These were quickly stifled as the ship levelled out and raced toward the distant Fleet ships. Behind them the cruiser recovered then turned slowly in pursuit.

  “We hit her, sir,” said Willi. “I think we got three of her hyperpods.”

  “Hopefully that will slow him down.” Harry tried to relax his grip on the armrests.
“Eight Four Seven, have you taken any damage?”

  “Not from the enemy, Harry, but your manoeuvres have strained my hull and damaged my hangar bay, which could be leaking.”

  “I’m sorry, old girl. I will make sure Ferghal puts his best people on the repairs for you. Now we must outrun the rest, and another is closing fast.”

  “I’m doing my best speed, Harry.”

  “I know, and we appreciate it.”

  The ScanRate called out, “One of them has altered course to close with the drone, sir.”

  Harry looked at the display. “Good—that’s one less chasing us, but not the one I hoped would chase it.” He turned to his Lieutenant. “Reza, what’s our ETA with the Fleet?”

  “Fifteen minutes, sir.”

  Harry did a quick calculation in his head. “And about five before the nearest of our pursuers is in range again.” He gripped the armrests tightly. “Let’s hope they can’t aim for shit!”

  The quickly suppressed laughter among his crew eased the tension.

  “More contacts behind us, sir.” The ScanRate’s voice cracked with strain. “They’ve just appeared.” His voice rose. “They’re firing on the Trojans, sir! They’re ours!”

  Harry felt the tension ebb as the crew began to talk and laugh, the relief from the strain bursting over them like a wave.

  “Silence in command!” The Coxswain’s sharp order brought a hush. He glanced toward Harry. “We aren’t out of the woods yet. Beg pardon, sir.”

  “Thank you for that reminder, Mr. Mann.” Harry glanced at Regidur when he barked in satisfaction, then Harry saw why: a great flower of incandescence burst from the hangar area of the ship that retrieved the drone. “One less for the Fleet, then,” Harry murmured.

  “Message from Rear Admiral, sir. ‘To Spartan’s Ancient Mariner: We’ve got you covered. Make all sail for the Vengeance.’”

  “Acknowledge. Add, ‘Thank you for relieving me of these dead albatrosses.’” He sank into his command chair exhaling with relief as the release of tension flooded through him. “Mr. Pahlavi, I think we can go to defence stations now.” He smiled. “And I need a strong drink, but it will have to be tea. It is time everyone had a little refreshment.”