Heroes: A Raconteur House Anthology

by Honor Raconteur

  “…But the EU’s AA-98’s the Clausewitz carries are far more dangerous,” Opinchuk agreed dejectedly. “You make a good argument. So, we sing them a nice tune about how close we are to saving the Kruzenshtern, and hopefully, before they realize we’ve lied to them, it will be too late to do anything about it.” Opinchuk stared for a moment at the older man. “You do realize, I hope, that you are only digging a deeper grave here. If we do get out of this alive, they will crucify you.”

  Vladimir again nodded, his jaw clenched. “One emergency at a time. Now, I will transmit only. I want you in the background, nodding, but I don’t want you to say a word, understood? It’s for the best right now.”

  “It’s your game,” the Sveta’s commander agreed.

  Nodding in bleak relief, Ushakov opened a second PHUD channel and locked it to transmit only, then he linked to the ship’s comm, unlocking it from external links. Lastly, he selected the Flight Control channel.

  “Flight Control, this is Col. Vladimir Ushakov of the Johann Kruzenshtern. We have convinced the Japanese maintenance team to help us obtain the electrical power we need. We will shortly power up the spatial gravitic drive and tow the Pawa Maru back to geosynchronous orbit and await rescue there. As soon as we reach geo-synch orbit, I will turn command of the Kruzenshtern over to Lt. Col. Opinchuk and instruct him to arrest me. Message ends.”

  “What did you say?” Opinchuk roared. “Arrest you?! You didn’t say anything about arresting you or turning command over to me!”

  Vladimir nodded. “I didn’t? I thought it was obvious. It’s the only way to protect you from the fallout of this operation, especially since we’ve drawn blood now.”

  “But…you can’t…”

  “It’s done, Commander,” Vladimir snapped, as he reached out to re-lock the comm from external links. “Now, you’ve more important things to attend to than to argue with me. As soon as you are ready to supply power from the Pawa Maru, let us know.” And with a mental command, he clicked closed the channel.

  The desperate and bone-weary crew of the Johann Kruzenshtern struggled mightily to replace burnt out components, or to jury-rig repairs when spares were not available. The hours ticked by mercilessly, the two ships and powersat approaching Earth on their joint elliptical orbit.

  After taking time to change his clothes, Vladimir was everywhere at once, still physically constrained by his injured arm but doing what he could when and where possible. It was the performance of a lifetime, providing encouragement, confidence and support for everyone else without revealing how bone-weary he himself felt. Inside his own thoughts, he kept himself going by sheer willpower, not allowing any sign of weakness or doubt to seep through where others might see and become discouraged, perhaps at a critical moment.

  True to his word, Opinchuk and his crew delivered the power from the powersat in fairly short order. Power through the umbilical cable was constrained by the cable size and, to a small degree, by the damage incurred on the powersat when the Savitskaya accelerated it out of geo-synch orbit. But, by the calculations of the engineers, it would be more than enough to do the job.

  “Sir?” Istomin’s voice interrupted Vladimir as he was assisting a team in the control center in testing a computer linkage.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?” Vladimir responded, slowly turning to face the engineer, without showing the dizziness he now felt when performing any sudden movement.

  Istomin himself, despite his young age, was showing every bit of the strain he was under. Indeed, he appeared to have aged ten years within ten hours. To be sure, Vladimir felt a high degree of sympathy for the young engineer. But there was no time for commiseration or anything else. If they survived the next two hours, then they could all take a break. Otherwise, they wouldn’t need one.

  “Sir, Dr. Dubov says that we are ready for static tests on gen-jectors #2 and #4. If those go well…”

  Vladimir was shaking his head. “No, Lieutenant, there will be no static tests. They will take too much time.”

  “But, sir! We have nearly two hours until re-entry!” the lieutenant protested. “There’s time to do the static tests!”

  Vladimir was still shaking his head. “No, Lt. Istomin. You are making two erroneous assumptions. First, you are assuming that the static tests will confirm the gen-jectors are operating correctly. But what if they don’t? Would we have time to track down the problem, repair it and try another static test?”

  The startled engineer gulped. “Ah, no, we wouldn’t.”

  Vladimir arched an eyebrow. “So what would be the point of the static test, hmm? Either the gen-jectors work when we put them to use or they don’t. If they don’t, we are doomed anyway. The static tests therefore serve no purpose.”

  “But the manual…” Istomin protested.

  “Was not written by engineers threatened with imminent death, right, Lieutenant?”

  “Ah, no sir, it wasn’t,” conceded the engineer reluctantly.

  “There is a second reason, Lieutenant,” Vladimir explained in a hushed emotionless tone. “In roughly an hour and twenty minutes, give or take a few, we will enter missile range of a Chinese battlecruiser. And they have orders to destroy us before we come down on some Brazilian city or other and possibly kill millions of people.”

  “I, uh…sir, you can’t let that happen! We are so close! We just need a little more time!” Istomin actually squeaked.

  “An hour and twenty minutes, tops,” Vladimir repeated without emotion. “So forget the manual. Don’t worry about fine-tuning anything. In fact, the drive only has to work for a couple of hours or so before it burns itself out. Just long enough to get us back to geo-synch orbit and stabilize ourselves there. At that point, it can be a worthless pile of junk, understand, Lieutenant? That’s how desperate our situation truly is.”

  “It will work,” Istomin assured him but without any sign that he himself believed what he was saying. “Even if I have to get out and push it myself.”

  Vladimir nodded without humor. “That’s the spirit.”

  Vladimir assumed his seat in the control center and sipped another bulb of hot tea as the engineering team frantically rushed to finish up repairs. Already, gen-jectors #1 and #5 had been added to the ready list with initial power-up procedures in progress on the four “working” units. But repair efforts were still on-going with units #3 and #6. And of course, the drive would not work without all of the gen-jectors in operation. Uniformity of the field was paramount; the ship would tear itself apart with even a mildly non-uniform field.

  Opinchuk’s call sign appeared on his PHUD.

  “According to my estimates,” Opinchuk said without preamble, “the Xinglong Hao is the most likely of the two Chinese battlecruisers to be in a position to attack us. The Xinglong is reported to carry as many as a dozen Fengzi long-range missiles with multi-independently targetable warheads and two dozen shorter range Haifeng missiles. Also, we could be within their missile range in less than ten minutes, or possibly as long as thirty minutes, all depending on where the Xinglong is in Earth’s orbit right now.”

  “And your interceptors?” Vladimir asked.

  “We only have half our normal complement of AMM 105s on board. Just six missiles against their dozen. And as you know, ours are single warheads. We’ve prepped all six, of course, but even assuming each of our anti-missile missiles takes out one of their Fengzi’s before warhead separation…we just aren’t going to be able to stop everything that comes our way, not even if you include our anti-missile laser. And all it will take is for one of their warheads to get through.”

  “Yes, I am aware of our unfortunate situation,” Vladimir sighed in agreement. “We’re doing all we can. It will be close. If only there were a way to buy time…hmm, there might be at that. I’m going to try something. Stay with me.”

  Vladimir opened a link to the repaired ship’s transceiver and began broadcasting a general mayday call on several of the international emergency frequencies, addressing the broadcast
s to the “commander of the Chinese battlecruiser in Earth’s orbit.” Anxiously, he watched the clock ticking away the seconds while he awaited a potential response.

  And was more than a little surprised when he got one.

  “Johann Kruzenshtern, this is Admiral Duàn Ming-húa of the Chinese vessel Xinglong Hao,” a deeply resonate accent-less voice announced in his ear. The voice was too perfect to be anything other than computer generated. There was no accompanying video feed, for which Vladimir was more than a little grateful. “Am I speaking with Col. Vladimir Ushakov?”

  “You are,” Vladimir admitted frankly. “Thank you for responding to my distress call and so quickly too.”

  “We are rapidly approaching missile range with your vessel, Colonel,” the voice proclaimed. “We have already computer-locked our missiles to your target signature. My orders, sir, are unfortunate, but I am instructed to reduce your ship to the smallest possible fragments, to prevent your ship’s re-entry from endangering the civilian population on Earth. I regret the need to do this, especially since everyone on your ship will be killed in the process, but I will follow my orders.”

  “And the crew of the Savitskaya and the Pawa Maru as well, Admiral?” Vladimir anxiously asked.

  “Yes, them as well,” came the delayed answer. “I must tell you, Colonel, I admire your attempt to save your vessel. You are a brave and resourceful man and I admire your crew and their valiant efforts too. I don’t know if you know this, but you are the focus of the international media right now. They can talk of nothing else in the news except your crew, your ship, and of course, you. I believe that they have interviewed everyone who has ever known you—at least twice. It’s been remarkable, sir, all the focus applied to your story. Half the world hates you for attacking the Pawa Maru and the other half is praying for your deliverance. I am saddened that I cannot do more to help you, you understand.”

  “There is one thing you can do for us,” Vladimir tried to keep his voice casual and to avoid the appearance of begging. “Just delay for a few minutes the launching of your missiles. We almost have the drive back online. Once that is done, we can take ourselves back to a secure orbit and then there is no need to waste your missiles.”

  “A valiant attempt, sir,” the perfect voice declared. “If the decision were left up to me, I wouldn’t hesitate to cancel the attack entirely and give you the time you need. But my government will assume that you are simply playing for more time here. However, I have enough authority in this situation to delay the attack a few minutes, at least until you are in optimum firing range. I can and will do that much for you. Oh, I will tell you also that I have included the anti-missiles carried by the Savitskaya into my attack plans. They will not be enough to save you, when the time comes.”

  “I understand,” Vladimir accepted the offer grudgingly. “Thank you for that.”

  “May the God you believe in have mercy upon you now,” the voice spoke, just before the channel closed.

  “Polite bugger, wasn’t he?” Opinchuk muttered in an annoyed tone.

  “But he did give us the few extra minutes I wanted,” Vladimir said with a small sigh of relief. “I just hope that it will be enough.” He glanced around, noting the presence of Lt. Dominika Balakirev from the Savitskaya, the junior pilot now assigned to take the pilot’s seat of the Vanya. Aptekar’s seat would be empty this time since Lt. Dabrowski was back in her seat at the comm station.

  He motioned Balakirev to take the pilot’s console. “Do you have the course I asked for, Lieutenant?”

  “I have it plotted and fed into the computers,” she replied in a half-smile. “If we get engine power…”

  “When we get it, Lieutenant,” Vladimir interrupted.

  “She was right the first time,” Opinchuk rejoined.

  The young woman didn’t quite know how to reply to this interplay between senior officers. “Yes, ah, well, we will veer up and off to starboard, away from our re-entry path, adding as much delta-vee as possible, away from the Chinese battlecruiser’s orbital path and, ah, any missiles they might fire.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Vladimir said with a guileless smile. Then he turned back to his now-active workstation and mentally keyed in the command for the shipboard public address circuit. He knew without checking that everyone on board the Vanya, the Sveta, and even on the Pawa Maru could now see his image in their own PHUDs.

  “Attention, everyone,” he said with a confident grin, feigning an inner strength he didn’t feel in the slightest. “I need but a moment of your time and then you can get back to your work. First, I want to thank each and every one of you,” he said, “for all of the hard work, all the efforts you have given to save this ship and make it operational again. It reflects well on you, on the Vanya, and on our country! Thank you. Second, I must be honest with you. We have another trial ahead of us. Those pesky Chinese have declared us a menace to Earth and intend to fire missiles at us! Humph! Well, they haven’t built the missile yet that can catch this ship! As soon as our drive is operational again, we will sneer at their missiles and simply outrun them! We are Russians! We will do this because we are better than they give us credit for! All hands, let us show them what real Russians can do in a real Russian ship!”

  A solid cheer rang through the two ships and the powersat, the hulls resonating with the volume. Even the Japanese enthusiastically joined in.

  “Colonel!” shouted Istomin as he floated through the arch into the control center. “They are putting the covers back on gen-jector #6 right now! In two minutes—”

  “Tell them to forget the panels!” roared Vladimir. “Throw the switches now, Lieutenant. Throw them now!”

  Istomin caught himself on a console and kicked off again, careening back into the engine bay, shouting orders to the crew as he went.

  “Sir!” Balakirev snapped. “Two minutes to anticipated optimum missile range with the Xinglong Ha. I’m releasing the interlocks on gen-jectors #1 through #5!”

  “Activate the coolant pumps now, Lieutenant!” Vladimir said, buckling himself into his seat. This time, he wouldn’t allow himself to be thrown around.

  “Power coming up on gen-jector #6!” shouted Balakirev. “Initiating stand-by mode!”

  “Standby to activate the drive!” Vladimir ordered fiercely.

  “One minute to thermosphere boundary,” Balakirev reported.

  “Missile launch detected!” Opinchuk’s voice announced harshly through his PHUD link. “Two missiles launched! Now three! Calculating time to impact! Stand by! A fourth missile now detected!”

  “Interlock on #6 is now released! Ramping up power now!” Balakirev declared.

  “Ramp it up smartly,” ordered Vladimir harshly. “100% acceleration, now!”

  Balakirev snapped a startled glance at him and opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and shook her head nervously. “100% acceleration, aye-aye, sir! Ramping up now!”

  “Sir!” Istomin protested as his visage snapped into view via Vladimir’s PHUD. “A lot of the repairs are makeshift at best! And a 100% acceleration gradient on the Pawa Maru will further damage its collectors!”

  “Lieutenant!” Vladimir barked. “100% and hurry!”

  “40% and increasing!” interrupted Balakirev. “The field is extending to the Pawa Maru and to the Savitskaya, but the tension on the solar collector tethers are increasing!”

  “Umbilical temperatures increasing with the sharp power drain!” reported Istomin, the severe strain evident in his voice.

  “67% and ramping up!” Balakirev added in a strained voice. “Our course is changing but not near fast enough!”

  Opinchuk’s voice chimed in too. “Tango one intercept time now four minutes! Launching AMM 1 in three, two, one, now! Stand by…launching number 2 in three, two, one, now! Launching number 3 in three, two, one, now!”

  In thirty seconds, the Savitskaya flushed all six of his AMM 105s through the launch tubes.

  The Kruze
nshtern was at full acceleration now, and unfortunately all was not well. The spatial field was not as uniform as it should have been and the stress on the hull was twisting the frame and hull plating. Already there were minor air leaks reported in a half-dozen outer compartments. In addition, a disturbing thrumming noise resonated through the control center, slowly rising in volume and frequency.

  Moreover, the gravity gradient had never been designed to extend all that far from the ship’s hull. Certainly not as far as the Pawa Maru’s solar collector panels. On his workstation displays, Vladimir noted that the strain on those nanocarbon stays were already near critical levels.

  “Time to first intercept now fifteen seconds!” Opinchuk shouted. “Oh, God, no! We have warhead separation on Tango One! Repeat, we have three warheads from Tango One now! Retargeting AMM 1 to Tango 1A. Five seconds to impact…Tango 1A destroyed! Retargeting AMM 2 to Tango 1B…target Tango 1B destroyed!”

  Vladimir turned his attention away from the battle and concentrated on his computer displays, his fingers flying across his workstation keyboard, running battle projection forecast models as fast as the computer would accept and process the inputs.

  It wasn’t going to be enough, he saw. Close, yes. Missiles one and two would be clean misses but missiles three and four would have enough time to compensate for the delta-vee that the Kruzenshtern was building. It made no sense to target missile two.

  “Colonel!” Vladimir barked. “Ignore Tango 2! Target 3 and 4! Understand? 3 and 4!”

  “Acknowledged! Re-targeting AMM 4 to Tango 3!”

  Vladimir opened a new channel, this one to the Pawa Maru. “Konichiwa, Sugimoto Manami. I have an urgent request.”

  The Japanese engineer’s image, looking extremely harassed, appeared in his PHUD. “Now is not a good time for requests. Your acceleration is much too high. The stress on the solar collector stays are exceeding design limits! You must reduce power!”