“It was a good hit!”
The tunnel is curved from a blast wave. She sees holes in the walls, left by a three-millimeter piece of shrapnel, a favorite pirate caliber. Here, Olga counts only twelve holes, but two decks below, at the central post, everything turns into a sieve. It was a master shot: an armor-piercing shell penetrated the portside, struck three cargo compartments one after another, and, breaking through the thin armor, burst in the control room.
The ship's brain was wounded mortally and died, and the transport in the meantime continued to move forward. The reactor compartment and the main engines weren’t affected, exactly as the pirates wanted. With one shot destroying the central post, they, without losing time, immediately picked up a “leech” controller of the newest model, which assumed the function of an autopilot, and now the old transport follows wherever the pirates need it to, along with the rest of the ships of the captured caravan.
A signal comes followed by an urgent stop and immediate clawing at the walls—the tunnel rises, the next correction of the orbit happens with acceleration; the pirates are in a hurry. They have a lot of fuel, and they can afford to mercilessly force the engines of captured ships, trying to minimize the flight time. The borders of Tartar aren’t far.
The engines stop. Olga unclasps the claws and continued the cautious forward movement. Closer to the reactor compartment, communication becomes worse. The protective circuit of the reactor introduces interference, and all attempts to eliminate it are unsuccessful. Emergency lighting here, as elsewhere, is absent, and the road is illuminated with a single infrared searchlight on the nose of the repair machine. Voronov can hardly distinguish the necessary mechanisms. The once-sensitive manipulators move slowly and inaccurately, as if she is floating in some viscous liquid.
Again the signal; the robot grabs the wall, but this time, it isn’t able to hold on. The frames flex under the heavy overload, and the repair robot flies down the tunnel along with the torn piece of wall. The short flight ends with a hard landing on the nearest bulkhead. A repair robot that resembles a long lobster survived at the cost of failure of the rear pair of limbs. Unpleasant, but not fatal; it can continue to move on its four front paws. The main thing is that the cable doesn’t tear, and the eyes remain intact. With these eyes, she sees white signs on the bulkhead, which seem oddly familiar to her. The sergeant changes the viewing angle and now unmistakably recognizes her own technological marks left here almost a year ago.
“OMG!”
Olga knows this old transport too well; almost a year ago, on Sakhalin-28, she, along with other engineers, dismantled this old junk up to the last weld, and with hard work, brought the ship decommissioned for scrap back to life. Its further service in their small squadron was very difficult; refusals and emergency repairs followed, one after another, driving the Bolshevik’s engineers out of their minds. So, after the disbandment of the squadron, Olga sincerely hoped never to see this ship again. But space always offers pleasant surprises, and old Terrence has made an appearance in the captured caravan, already under a different name and registration number. But it’s still the same Terrence, and he’s in trouble again.
The distress signal that tore them from the last anchorage came from the boundary of the Tenth Radius, through one of the twenty major roads. Extraordinary incidents have rarely happened here: the overcrowded near-Earth space already left behind, there are few permanent colonies, and the meteor streams were studied and mapped many decades ago, so the ships navigating to Mars and the distant planets follow the long-paved roads at high speeds.
The pirates preferred to stay closer to the Moon and the densely populated free zones of the Earth sector, because robberies on the Earth-Mars route were difficult for them. Too far from supply bases, their small ships lacked autonomy. If they dared to attack a merchant ship on the main roads, they were met by patrols, controlled minefields, fire support bases, and other methods of protecting trade routes that hadn’t changed much since the ships went only through the terrestrial seas and oceans. The Bolshevik also periodically put things in order here: a dozen marks of victory on his hull were made on the great roads between Earth and Mars long before Olga Voronov joined the crew, and eight more trophies appeared after her arrival, obtained from the summer to the winter of 2094.
With the advent of Grond, the old rules lost their power, and piracy spread all over the place. Senior officers can’t recall such a complex operational situation since the chaos of the first postwar years, and there is no indication that it will become calmer in the foreseeable future.
As before, the greatest danger is presented by Tartar bandits—Boddicker is constantly increasing the activity of his fleet, climbing farther into the previously quiet sectors. This time, a caravan of nine transports, coming from the Belt to Earth, with an intermediate stop at Mars, has undergone an attack by his corsairs.
The caravan was accompanied by warships at the exit from the Asteroid Belt, it was guarded when approaching Mars, and in the Earth sector, it also had to be met and escorted to the port. But during the central part of the route, it isn’t possible to convoy all traders; there aren’t enough warships and crews, so the guards consisted of a single unmanned combat module. Pirates used this factor to their advantage when they met the caravan at the maximum distance from a few bases of fire support.
The bandits calculated everything correctly; the robbers obviously waited for this caravan, well prepared for the ambush. The problem of fuel shortage was solved by a transport–carrier, which was moving towards the caravan. After contacting his colleagues in the Navy's early warning and flight control services, Joseph found that the carrier was purchased legally through a one-day company, thus obtaining an official registry number and permission to follow the common route towards the merchants. He went on a flight a week ago, even before the convoy left the Martian port, which means that the pirates are very well informed, having access to secret data.
Having approached the target on a collision course, the carrier released from its hold six light assault boats that attacked the convoy like an aspen swarm. The battle lasted thirty-two seconds: an unmanned module shot down two pirates before it was completely destroyed, after which traders threw the white flag, dutifully embarking on a new course. Just old Terrence, who was traveling in the unmanned mode, stubbornly followed along, for as long as the enemy shell disabled the ship’s computer, which Olga at one time had with such difficulty brought to life.
Leaving the highway, the pirates continued to follow the path of Earth, taking the prey to the depth of the Free Zone, heading for Tartar. The carrier, fulfilling his mission, dropped the official pennant, turned off the transmitter, and also moved away from the road, apparently left by the crew. Naturally, no one would pursue him; all the parties concerned had more important things to be concerned about, like three water tankers of the “Senegal” class. It’s because of them that the Bolshevik came to the rescue, ignoring the dozens of typical SOS signals.
After Grond destroyed most of Earth’s cosmodromes, the delivery of ocean water to orbit was significantly reduced, which led to another increase in prices for everything that was one way or another connected with water, first of all, for fuel. Electric propulsion engines of all types on an infinite number of ships and colonies require fuel, which almost always uses mixtures of lunar soil and water, combined in a certain proportion. And while the lunar dust was available in whatever amount desired, both before Grond and after, then the water supply became noticeably short. Under these conditions, the supply of water ice from the Belt and the satellites of Jupiter acquired a particularly important significance; this trade involved more and more transports, whose cargo compartments were replaced with tanks in haste. Three such tankers are now traveling in the captured caravan, each carrying twelve thousand tons of water ice, which has become a particularly lucrative prey in the near-Earth space.
The bandit’s assumption is correct; the fleet squadrons of the Union and the Supernova, which
could quickly stop the robbery, are too far away. However, they couldn’t foresee the quick approach of the Bolshevik, although the criminals had long been trying to track the cruiser’s movement throughout the solar system in view of its well-deserved reputation. But the unexpected appearance of a new formidable participant didn’t confuse the pirates, who had an ace up their sleeve for this exact situation.
Having just four light warships, in fact, boats, they have very little chance of successfully fighting against the cruiser, especially in a pure void. So, in the usual course of events, the Bolshevik would immediately come into the action, if it wasn’t for one essential circumstance. The caravan consists of eight transports with a variety of cargos, and the ninth ship inappropriately turns out to be a passenger transport, carrying 2,300 souls in hibernation capsules.
And now the passenger liner, which is in the wrong place at the wrong time, is under the guns of pirates, who are using the sleeping passengers as a shield, under which they intend to bring the caravan to their territory. It’s necessary to do something about this.
Another short maneuver, and this time, she manages to save the repair robot from a new breakdown that is sure to become the last. So, she can continue the movement, but Olga doesn’t move; she hears something, a metallic noise transmitted through the pipe. It doesn’t look like a stationary mechanism; no, something is moving to her. Most likely, another repairman is coming out to eliminate the consequences of the explosion. The work, of course, is necessary and useful, and most likely, it was she who programmed the machine to perform this complex and responsible task, but now she doesn’t need a meeting with another repairman. He can detect the cable and cut it off. He can detect her robot and inform the leech about it, and the leech will report further. Both options are equally catastrophic, so she’ll have to do something about this.
A loud knock on the metal intensifies, and another repairman approaches. Olga decides to meet him at the crossroads. Having previously unplugged the cable, she neatly climbs into a vertical pipe a few seconds before the light comes in the tunnel.
The left claw is transformed; Olga changes the configuration of the instruments, putting a large-caliber cutter forward. She’ll need a powerful tool for a single accurate blow, since there will be no time for a second hit. The measured clattering is getting closer; now she sees the repairer’s front claws under her, and then the crustacean shell appears.
Following a dazzling flash of the welding, the claw descends, hitting the repair robot in its main nerve center. The impact of the cutter is accompanied by a powerful wave of interference to drown out any SOS that the dying repairman has time to send. He doesn’t send one that she is aware of, but just in case, she works a little on the emergency transmitter; now he will tell the autopilot about the fatal breakage of the chassis, which deprived the repairman of the opportunity to move on and carry out the task. Then she pushes him off the road, after removing all the cameras, lights, and a set of tools, to continue her work.
Moving forward through three more sections, she reaches the target of her journey—the second shunting engine. Olga remembers well how Bolshevik engineers rebuilt the second motor: several such engines were needed to land on and take off from Earth. But when the squadron was disbanded, the Terrence was sold to private traders, who used it for flights to the Belt and back. In low-speed flights, several shunting engines aren’t required, and this power plant was mothballed and hasn’t been used for four months. It's time to set fire in the boiler.
“The engine is at your disposal.”
Thanks to the old bookmarks in the Terrence’s software, Olga manages to run a repair robot and send him on a hike through the whole ship to the second engine, carrying a cable for a reliable connection with the Bolshevik. And now she is there, but she can’t start the engine, which has been cold for many months, so Granddad is coming to play. Olga, meanwhile, provides an electronic cover for their secret operation. They will need to revive the engine on the captured ship so that no one will notice, and as soon as possible. The border of Tartar is approaching.
Like everyone who grew up in space, Olga heard about Tartar at an early age: scary stories about the famous pirate sector at the L2 point were often printed in children's books. Many years later, when she became a Bolshevik, she often took part in pursuing the pirates who came from Tartar, whose brutal audacity had increased more than ever in the last year. And yet, she never personally visited the Pirate Sector, although in the past, the Bolshevik has been here several times, conducting lightning raids in the border areas. And now, the caravan is losing time every second to get to the virtual borders of Tartar. Anastasia already sees the first large clouds of debris, behind which are hidden minefields and powerful artillery guns. The pirate flagship gives a light signal, and a series of brake maneuvers begin. All ships have to drop their speed; in the local regions, the probability of collision increases to critically dangerous values.
“I confirm—the answer is no; there will be no help.”
Being alone to fight pirates near Tartar isn’t easy, even for the Bolshevik, so Klimov makes an attempt to get help from the nearest base of fire support. Artillery fire and a squadron of unmanned fighters would be very useful, but nobody will engage the pirates for free, and the shipowner company must pay for the participation of the military. Negotiations fail; the parties can’t agree on a price. Although, this may be just a suitable excuse for refusal, as the personnel of the base don’t want to violate the fragile truce with Boddicker on the threshold of his empire. The bandits are guaranteed not to forget this. In any case, the Bolshevik will have to save the caravan alone; they can rarely rely on outside support.
“Ignition; ready to turn on the pumps.”
“Roger, I'm starting to pump fuel from the bow tanks!”
Granddad manages to activate a long-silent engine, and now Olga begins to quietly and imperceptibly pump fuel out of the main tanks. While pumping fuel, she never forgets to cheat the leech, supporting the false confidence that nothing interesting happens on the old truck. Her companions meanwhile continue to work, each in his or her own way preparing for the approaching outcome.
The speed is reduced; laser guns are fired twice, knocking down the fragments that got on the way. The familiar emptiness changes its outline. The starlight is obscured by a giant cluster of garbage, in the long sleeves of which the dim lights of the pirate’s bases are visible. The caravan enters one of the darkest zones of near space—here, at the point of gravitational stability L2, the sun shows its face extremely rarely, almost constantly obscured by Earth, which adds a peculiar charm to these gloomy edges.
“One hundred and fifty seconds before ignition. 149, 148, 147 . . .”
With each passing second, they approach the borders of Tartar for six and a quarter kilometers. Multiple fragments interfere with the radars and telescopes, both on the Bolshevik and on the pirate ships. But still, it's easier for the pirates; they are following a fairway known only to them, the approaches to which are covered by mines and pre-shot with artillery. The caravan must be attacked right here and now, on the border; otherwise, it will go into the bowels of the Tartar cluster, where even the Bolshevik can’t follow.
“123, 122, 121 . . . ”
Following a parallel course, the cruiser slowly reduces the distance from ninety to fifty-five kilometers. The rapprochement doesn’t go unnoticed; the pirates also maneuver.
“87, 86, 85 . . .”
“A light signal from the head ship!”
It is exactly that—the pirate flagship is beating a short message with a standard code—they suggest to the Bolsheviks that they pick up a passenger liner and go away, leaving the rest of the caravan as a legitimate trophy. The business proposal is repeated several more times, and then the signal lamp goes out.
“37, 36, 35 . . .”
“Azimuth 40, angle 32, fire!”
Seeing that the Bolshevik isn’t going to accept the offer and is continuing the persecution, the
pirate flagship calls for help, and one of the artillery batteries opens fire on the cruiser from a long distance. It poses no real threat; Tokarev just slightly increases the speed to leave the line of fire. The main caliber remains silent.
“19, 18, 17 . . .”
Another battery hidden in the debris unmasks itself, having started shooting; Severov still doesn’t open retaliatory fire, periodically burning the fragments that stand on the way. Anastasia tracks the movements inside the caravan; the four pirate ships are changing position.
Making sure that the first volleys were unable to drive the cruiser away, the pirates are preparing to engage at the most favorable moment. Time is on their side—right now, reinforcements are surely being pulled from the depths of the Tartar.
Joseph accurately predicts the uncomplicated tactical plan of the enemy: splitting the group into two pairs and increasing the distance, the pirates will be covered by trucks, constantly keeping the passenger liner on sight. In this scenario, even if the Bolshevik suddenly rushes into the caravan and destroys one of the deuces, the second is guaranteed to have time to shoot at the shield.
“6, 5, 4 . . .”
The Bolshevik reactor is gaining increased revs, chairs change position, ready to take the maximum load, and light filters close the sights and telescopes.
“One!”
The eternal darkness is burned by illuminating shells, previously silent jamming stations clog the air with piercing howling, and Olga enters the battle with a heavy electronic icebreaker broken through the leech. The old transport is again under their control, but the leech has time to block the main engine for a fraction of a second before its destruction—it was for this situation that Olga and Granddad reanimated the second motor.
A King Word And a Gun Page 4