At six hours, Teo practically begged Wyatt to let him resume deceleration, before the tiniest error in their course flung them past the quantum gate instead of through it.
And that’s when things started to get interesting.
35
On Approach, Thermopylae Gate
Alpha Centauri A
9 March 2272
Teo called Wyatt to the bridge and pointed to the flat panel that predated holographic visualization by thirty years. “Multiple new contacts on station near Thermopylae.”
“Who are they? Our missing freighters?”
“Unknown,” Dave answered. “The sensors on this hulk are absolute crap. But I see three vessels, just sitting there.”
“Have they seen us?”
“Our drives are pointed at them now for decel, so we might as well be shining a floodlight in their faces.”
Wyatt stroked the stubble on his chin and thought.
“Any downside to hailing them?” he finally asked.
“I guess not, but what are you going to tell them? Get out of the way?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of sending them our intel. If we’re going to get waxed, at least our effort doesn’t have to die with us.”
“That’s depressing.”
“True.”
Teo mulled it over for a moment. “What have we got to lose?”
“Not much.” Wyatt stared at the flat-panel monitor, wondering if the newly arrived vessels would even believe him. He made his decision. “Hook me up on broad-beam. Let’s put our message in its bottle before it’s too late.”
Teo adjusted some switches. “Mike’s hot.”
Wyatt didn’t mince words. “Attention all spacecraft, this is Kumano Lily outbound from Juliet. We are being pursued by a hostile vessel and require assistance. Please respond.”
Silence stretched across the radio. Wyatt felt his body sag against the continued effort of the engines to slow their approach.
“Guess I’ll try again,” he said. “Attention all spacecraft—”
A businesslike voice crackled over the comm. “Kumano Lily, this is RESIT D-18 Sawtooth. Your approach vector toward Thermopylae exceeds allowed parameters. Change course immediately to three seven by ten and commence maximum deceleration burn. Acknowledge.”
Everyone’s heads swiveled in recognition. Sawtooth.
Wyatt fought to keep his own emotion in check as his heart leaped in his chest. These vessels were part of Caustic Team. Proxima’s Team.
His Team.
He didn’t know why they were here already—his recon mission was meant to prepare for such a task force, and obviously they hadn’t made it back yet. But he wasn’t going to question it. “Sawtooth, this is RESIT call sign Savage Echo aboard Kumano Lily. I say again, we are being pursued by RESIT FA-476 Razor which is a hostile vessel. I repeat, Razor is a hostile vessel. Request immediate intercept, over.”
Clunking boots on the ladder announced Laramie’s abrupt entry into the Flight Deck. “Caustic came through the gate?” she asked with excitement.
“Three vessels,” Teo said. He pointed at the blob on the left of the radar. “I think Sawtooth is this one.”
Laramie’s eyebrows went up. “They brought the destroyer? Holy hell. Is Vigorous here?”
“I can’t tell. This one is too small,” he said, pointing to another blob. “This one could be, though it’s a bit blurry—”
“Kumano Lily, your approach vector exceeds allowed parameters. Change course immediately to three seven by ten or you will be fired upon. Acknowledge.”
Teo sighed. “They’re going to shoot us.”
Laramie let loose a string of profanity. “What’s the deal? Are they not receiving us?”
Wyatt keyed the ancient microphone and spoke again, slowly, with emphasis on each word. “Sawtooth, I say again, this is RESIT call sign Savage Echo. My name is Lieutenant Wyatt Wills, serial number 0-6-5-8-2-2-6-7, Havoc Troop, Caustic Team. I am aboard Kumano Lily. I am operating under orders from Major Beck. We have a RESIT recon team aboard and are being pursued by a hostile vessel with intent to destroy. Are you reading me, Sawtooth? Over.”
Laramie hit Teo on the arm. “Hey, pilot. How do we let them know we are who we say we are? Can’t you waggle your wings or something?”
Teo turned around in his seat and threw her an incredulous look. “This is an interstellar spacecraft. You might as well make a walrus tap dance.”
“What’s a walrus?”
“Quiet, you two,” Wyatt said. He cleared his throat to try again. “Sawtooth, this is RESIT Lieutenant Wills aboard Kumano Lily. Do you copy?”
A familiar voice filled the audio channel. “This is Vigorous Actual. Wyatt, what in the hell is going on?”
A flood of relief crashed through him. Major Beck. One of the other spacecraft was the troop carrier.
“Major, it’s a long story. I would love to tell it to you, but we’re not going to live long enough. There’s a Fast Attack in pursuit that has illegally fired upon us as well as other spacecraft. They’ll be in weapons range any time now.”
“Say again, you’re being pursued by a RESIT Fast Attack?”
“Yes, sir. Though I do not believe it’s a RESIT crew aboard her.”
A few seconds of silence. “Wait one,” Beck said.
“I wonder what that means,” Teo muttered.
The original monotone voice returned to the comm. “FA-476 Razor, this is RESIT D-18 Sawtooth. You are ordered to discontinue pursuit of Kumano Lily. Change course to one eight zero by zero, commence immediate deceleration burn, and await further instructions. Failure to comply will result in offensive action. Acknowledge.”
“Yeah!” Laramie shouted. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“We’re not out of this yet,” Wyatt cautioned. “Sawtooth is a long way off. Razor isn’t.”
“Yeah, but if Razor doesn’t comply, Beck will hunt them down and they’ll know that. A Fast Attack is no match for a Destroyer. They aren’t going to sign their own death warrants.”
“After everything we saw groundside, are you sure about that?”
Doubt crept into Laramie’s face.
The copilot turned from the telemetry on the control board and patted Teo on the arm. “Aspect change in target. Razor is changing course.”
Laramie exhaled loudly.
“They’re complying?” Wyatt asked. He wanted confirmation.
“It looks like they …” His words died off as he scrolled through more telemetry.
“Dave?”
“No. They’re turning perpendicular.”
“What does that mean?” Laramie said.
“They’re changing course, but not to the one Sawtooth ordered.” Teo pantomimed moving the spacecraft with his hands. “They’re going to accelerate sideways so they’ll pass Beck’s position at too steep of a vector to be intercepted.”
“But they’re giving up on us, right?”
The copilot gave the answer no one wanted to hear.
“Weapons launch. Vampire, Vampire. Inbound boarding drone, ETA eight minutes.” He fiddled with the controls for a few moments before slapping his hand on the console in frustration. “Maybe less. I can’t get a good vector using this equipment.”
Wyatt closed his eyes. His stomach felt like he’d just been punched. Memories of Mozambique filled his mind, a crew that had died in minutes.
“Vigorous, did you copy that?” he said finally.
“Affirmative. Standby,” Major Beck said. The broadband went momentarily silent. “Wyatt, Sawtooth can’t target that drone—too much interference from the quantum tunnel. You’d better prepare counterboarding measures.”
“Copy.”
“We’ll keep trying, Wyatt. Good luck. Vigorous out.”
36
Chris’s eyes snapped open to see Laramie hunched over him, shaking his shoulders.
“Wake up. There’s a Maximillian inbound.”
He instinctivel
y reached for his weapon. “I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“A boarding drone with an offensive loadout. It punctures the hull and tries to take control of the bridge. I need your help—everyone who can pull a trigger.”
Chris stood up and looked at the others in their acceleration couches. Kenny and Maya had overheard and were each pulling out some kind of form-fitting pressure suit. Finn and Dr. Bell listened intently. But what mostly caught his attention were Annika and Calista, blissfully asleep and unaware of the apparent danger. They looked so small and innocent. It didn’t seem fair that they couldn’t get a break.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need everyone who’s armed to assemble on the entry deck in three minutes. Wyatt will go through the plan then.” She gave him a funny look. “You don’t have a pressure sleeve, do you?”
“Is that a spacer thing?”
“Never mind. You’ll have to take the rear.”
Chris grabbed her elbow as she moved to leave. “I don’t understand. If Razor wants to stop us, why not just shoot us? They have laser weapons, right?”
“Yeah, but range is limited by accuracy. We’re in space. Space is big.”
“And a drone package has a better chance of hitting us?”
“It can course-correct on the way.”
Chris nodded. “Okay. Well, at least that gives us something to shoot back at.”
“Believe me, that sucker’s going to come in ready to wipe out everybody. Although it will do its best to not damage this jalopy of a freighter. Space assets are expensive.”
“And not passengers and crew?”
A funny look flashed across Laramie’s face before she finally just waggled her hand. “Meh.”
Minutes later, seven weapon-carrying troopers and Marines crowded together in a compartment clearly not designed for that many personnel. Wyatt went through what sounded like a standard play for RESIT people in this sort of situation.
“Teo will angle the freighter to make the penetration as far aft as possible. He’ll kill the engines and put us in microgravity right before the drone strike. It will make it easier for us to maneuver. We have four cargo bays. Each squad will defend the airlocks between C, B, and A. Aim for weak points—joints, weapon mounts. No point wasting fire on ceramic plates and recessed sensors. Put as much fire as you can on the drone until it reaches your position, then take cover. Let it pass and put more fire on it from behind—try to overwhelm its target-tracking system. It will have a high-powered laser weapon, so don’t get caught in the open.
“Remember, the drone strike will vent the atmosphere where it makes contact. The drone itself will breach the other compartments as it moves on the bridge. Since we don’t have any working CORE helmets, we’ll wear the emergency breathers we took from the space station.”
The lieutenant looked around the room and made eye contact with every trooper there. “RESIT. Most of you haven’t defended against a boarding drone except maybe in training. Keep your heads. Stay in cover. Don’t get shot. Any questions?”
Chris smirked. This sounded like they were going to die.
They divided into pairs and entered Cargo Bay A, essentially a large container divided into smaller sections by bulkheads and nets. The RESIT troops kept on moving aft while Finn inspected the thickness of the bulkhead dividers.
“How’s that going to be for cover?” Chris asked.
Finn shook his head.
A throat cleared behind him. Wyatt appeared, holding a breathing mask. He nodded at Chris’s injured arm. “You want help putting this on?”
“Don’t need it. My CORE helmet still has juice.”
“How? All of ours are dead.”
“It may be older than dirt, Lieutenant, but it’ll charge off anything.”
“They don’t make ‘em like they used to—something like that?”
“Something like that.”
Wyatt nodded. He surveyed the empty cargo bay. “Have you ever seen a drone up close?”
“Ground versions.”
“Then you know what we’re up against. Ever take one out?”
“With heavy weapons.”
The lieutenant’s eyes searched Chris’s face. Then he reached out and clasped Chris’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to stay home. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m glad you’re here.”
“That makes one of us.”
Wyatt smiled. But Chris could tell it was shallow, a thin veneer of spirit to cover up what the lieutenant really believed was going to happen.
***
Annika wondered if she would like life in space. The crew deck wasn’t very big. The front of the compartment had a bathroom with lockers and a funny-looking shower. The rear had some kind of lounge area, where Jack, Elton, and Calista were sitting at the little table hunched over an old-fashioned flat monitor. Calista said something about watching a fight through the security cameras, but Annika couldn’t think of anything more boring, so she stayed snuggled up in one of the acceleration couches that lined the walls. Across from her sat the two space troopers who were hurt. The burly one named Carlos was asleep from all the painkillers. But the other one, Izzy, stared off into nothing. He seemed out of it. Annika figured that was why he was up there with her, and not getting ready for the fight.
Jack said a bad word at the monitor, then apologized about how Calista wasn’t supposed to hear things like that. Annika turned her head and watched them. They all had their backs to her and she couldn’t see what was on the display. Holo monitors were much better—they made big, colorful projections that everyone could see. Why didn’t this ship have one? If she saw her daddy again, she would ask if he would buy them one. They were just so much better. She turned back to the space troopers to see if Carlos was awake, she was sure he would be frustrated too at not being able to see …
Her eyes met Izzy’s.
She didn’t notice the tingling at first. But when her stomach seized like she was going to throw up, she knew what was happening. The little fireflies sizzled around the edges of her vision and her eyes widened, locked on Izzy in an involuntary stare from which neither of them had any power to break away. The trooper sat still in his couch and let her eyes bore into him.
No, please, she whimpered. I don’t want to do this.
You must. He isn’t finished.
The fireflies flooded across the compartment. Annika’s body went rigid. She tried to will herself to turn away, to break eye contact and shut off the points of light, but her body was not her own. An invisible grip held her head like a vise. She watched in despair as Izzy leaned into the fireflies and took them in.
I’m sorry, she tried to say, but her lips wouldn’t move. She began to cry.
Izzy shuddered. She knew that was bad. It usually meant they were never coming back. Summoning all her strength, Annika tried to close her eyes and break the contact.
It was no use. She couldn’t even move her eyelids. Instead, Annika watched in horror as Izzy’s body relaxed and his pupils shrank. She tried to scream, to cry for help, to do anything to get the attention of the others. But her body would not obey her thoughts, leaving the sounds to echo only in her mind.
37
Laramie tuned out the random banter of troopers distracting themselves on the comm. Instead, she tried to remember the one time she had fought a drone in an advanced training course. It had wiped out three squads, hers included. The instructors went over the engagement and suggested a myriad of alternative tactics in the after-action review. Laramie struggled to recall what they said, and whether any of it would translate from classroom to reality.
The comm came to life with Teo’s voice. “Ninety seconds to impact. Standby for evasive.”
Kenny floated next to her near a bulkhead reinforced with scrap and insulation. “How do you do evasive maneuvers in a freighter?”
“He’ll go from zero to full acceleration and try to mess up the drone’s fi
nal targeting snapshot.”
Kenny thought on this for a moment. “Any chance it’ll miss?”
“I wish.”
“Well, here’s to hoping anyway.”
Laramie shot him a glance. He looked so much like a kid. If not for the stubble, he might have belonged in a junior high yearbook. But he had been solid in Venice—Sid dead, Carlos hurt, keeping cool during a full-on evasion while police hunted for them. Kenny hadn’t missed a beat.
She wondered if this would be the last time she saw him alive.
“Hey, Kenny.”
“Yeah, Staff Sergeant?”
She gave him a nod. “We can do this.”
“Hell, yeah, we can.”
Laramie made a fist and jerked her thumb toward her shoulder, the Julietan gesture for be strong. She remembered as a kid when she first saw it used downrange on the ranch. Jessamy showed her the right way to do it, like pulling on the strap to a heavy backpack. She supposed that was what it meant to pantomime.
Kenny didn’t miss a beat and returned the gesture perfectly.
She couldn’t help but smile. Right now, there might not be anything she could do to protect her biological family. But she would do everything she could to protect the military one.
“Time for rebreathers,” she said.
They pulled on the masks. Laramie instantly missed her long-gone CORE helmet.
The comm crackled. “Evasive in five, everyone hold on! Three … two … one … mark!”
The cargo bay leaped away from them. Laramie let the weight of sudden acceleration push her body into the bulkhead, a last feeling of sensation before who knew what. Belatedly, she threaded her arm into the cargo netting for what was coming next.
The vibration pulsed through the hull, a harbinger of enemy contact.
“We’re hit, Cargo C. Hull breach. Shutting down engines.”
Gavin and Rahsaan had set up a position at the C-D airlock. Laramie and Kenny were at B-C. The drone was sandwiched between their two squads.
“Move, on me!” she ordered.
Escape Velocity (The Quantum War Book 1) Page 26