Star Vigilante (Vigilante Series)
Page 24
Mata Hari rotated, emitting mercury vapor close to the hull. Within his double-self, his skin crawled, as if ants were walking over him. But it was only the adaptive optics seeded into the ship’s skin—already they were contracting, changing to concave form, and throwing back the burning heat energy from the enemy laser. In milliseconds Mata Hari shifted spatial orientation again, putting its narrowest cross-section face-on to the freighter. Even as it shifted, it fired excimer, CO2 and neutral particle beam lasers. They reached out through the randomly opening mercury gas clouds. In the holo, death came to the freighter.
“Matt, our Nanoshells have penetrated their hull.”
“Excellent!”
That was it.
Like an overripe fruit filled with worms, the freighter’s hull burst open. Thousands of nanoborers and nanoware energy-seekers penetrated the hull, sought and found local area powerplants, infiltrated nuclear torp warheads, reprogrammed their software with decadent software viruses, and broke the electromagnetic safety seals on the main fusion bottle of the freighter. Even as he received thousands of tachyonic data inputs downshifted for his slower gestalt senses, Matt’s eyes were dazzled by brilliant, actinic lights erupting in a score of locations.
In the end, it was a race between which would go off first—the ship’s fusion bottle turning into a miniature nova, or her stored nuclear warheads turning into plasma. Forty femtoseconds later, only a radioactive cloud occupied the space where once the alien freighter had flown. He let out his breath in a rush.
“We won!” Matt blinked and fed a soporific into his bloodstream, seeking calmness. With a start, he remembered Eliana, still sitting patiently nearby, relief now showing on her face as she observed the freighter’s destruction. “Mata Hari, what do the Nanoshells say about ship manufacture, origin and encrypted software instructions?”
His symbiont glowed in his mind, equally excited, and somehow just as adrenaline-pumped. “It was a Beta-class Repair Freighter/Corsair. Built by the Upsilon Carina dockyards of the Halicene Conglomerate, Directorate Level Aleph. Sixty years in service and unmanned by organic lifeforms. It was run by an industrial algorithm AI with only minimal sentience. Most recently, it was in-dock with the Halicene MotherShip Obliteration . . . in orbit about the F5 giant star.” Vigilante paused, her mood sobering. “There is other data related to maintenance schedules, asteroid mining duties and such. Do you wish a data readout?”
“No. Encode it in the Library and into Tactical and Strategic CPUs.” Matt thought a second, sitting back in the Pit seat. “Any evidence of a continuous tachyonic signal link to Legion and the MotherShip Obliteration?”
“Yes. That signal shut off nine hundred femtoseconds ago. They know we did this.”
“Shit.” Legion had been taking no chances. In case the automated call for a repair ship had been due to his and Mata Hari’s actions, the robot ship held its own version of a deadman switch. The tachyonic carrier signal was probably a simple, multiplexed one that fed a one-way datastream back to Legion. The Mican must already be looking at a Tactical analysis of how he and Mata Hari had just defeated the repair ship. Time. Too little time. He blinked.
“Leave a holo decoy behind the nearest asteroid. Then we retreat halfway back to Zeus Station. Agreed?”
“It fits my software’s own Tactical recommendations.” His symbiont sounded confident but also slightly worried. In his mind, her glow-image showed the Mata Hari persona working on a recipe in her pretend kitchen, the closest analogy she could make to what she really did inside the ship. “Complying, Matthew.”
Behind Matt, Eliana struggled in her crash-padding. “Matt! I’m suffocating in this thing. Can I come out?”
“Sorry, Eliana.” He split his attention, part to gestalt-mode where he could monitor interior ship status and tactical developments, and part to human-mode—for his Patron’s benefit. And his—he couldn’t believe how the sight of her, sharing his triumph, filled him with joy. “We’re still on Combat Alert, in Battle Configuration and I expect another attack at any moment.”
“Another attack?” Her face paled. “Who this time?”
“Legion and Obliteration the MotherShip, who else?” Frustrated by her slow sensory speeds, Matt wished briefly for a direct neurolink to her—so he could download all that he saw and felt and perceived. Doubtless she would not appreciate the cyborg experience. “We destroyed their robot repair freighter—rather too easily. Now, Mother is due shortly, I suspect.”
“Mother?”
“Override!” wailed Mata Hari.
Ocean-time.
Immediate.
Urgent.
Nine hundred picoseconds.
In his mind, across his manifold senses and before his eyes, Matt felt space-time itself move.
MotherShip Obliteration arrived.
Space-time warped, shuddered, and tore as a starship over eight kilometers wide Alcubierre Translated into the middle reaches of the Sigma Puppis B system. Gravity wave tidal shocks rippled all the way to Halcyon, shaking Zeus Station in its orbit. The other planets in the Derindl home system also vibrated to the arrival of imported space-time. Mata Hari, being much closer to the giant MotherShip, rocked hard.
Four hundred milliseconds.
Matt felt astonished that Legion would ignore basic stardrive safety parameters by materializing within the stellar gravity well of the local G5 star. It could be done . . . but you risked sharing space with a fist-sized rock, resulting in immediate matter-to-energy annihilation. And too close to a planet would knock it out of orbit. What did Legion know about local system space that he didn’t?
One second.
“Matt?” Eliana called.
He slowed his speech. “Wait!”
One and a quarter seconds.
On screen, a second gravity wave pulse hit them, then a thermonuclear explosion blossomed behind them, not far from Zeus Station.
Incredible. Legion had just wasted a scoutship by forcing it to Translate deeper into Sigma Puppis, where it had exploded near to Clan Themistocles’ Trade Station. Why?
One and a half seconds.
Insistent gongs signaled numerous incoming comlink signals. Matt ignored them all, reaching out for Mata Hari, speaking in PET-relayed thought-images. “Partner—what do you project from Legion’s actions so far?”
One second, five hundred twelve milliseconds.
She glowed in his mind, at one with him and he with her. “The Mican must have seeded this system with self-replicating nanoRemotes. They would provide a constant real-time update to its shipboard StratTac computer.”
He objected, imaging graphics. “But stellar wind pressure would displace them fairly quickly. That’s why we didn’t do the same for the F5, but relied on self-powered sensorProbes.”
“True,” Mata Hari said as, on-screen, several of his sensorProbes that lay between him and the MotherShip now exploded, one after another. “But obviously the Mican has plenty of resources. Enough to replace millions of nanoRemotes as they decay from position. Some of them have already located our passive sensors—as you can see from the explosions.”
One second, six hundred thirty milliseconds.
Shit. Now what could they—
The ship rocked a third time.
“Maneuvering,” said Mata Hari. “Moving to new coordinates. Firing.”
“On what?” he demanded just as his forebrain was flooded with Mata Hari’s Tactical Ops plan.
One second, seven hundred ten milliseconds.
Eliana cursed. “What are you and this crazy ship doing!”
“Savingyourlife,” Matt said, speech slurring as his tongue failed to keep up with thought impulses.
One second, nine hundred milliseconds.
Time to strike back. Time to fight.
The Bridge interior went momentarily black as outside, fourteen thermonuclear torps vaporized an area of space over forty kilometers square. The explosions were part of their
TacOps Plan to set up a radiation pressure front that would sweep away any Halicene Nanoprobes. Unfortunately, doing this also confined them to a certain well-defined block of space. Just ten minutes from antimatter Strike range, Legion’s starship Obliteration came toward them.
Remorselessly, and with no attempt at contact, it came.
Matt’s skin crawled. His biceps clenched. He spit.
Nanoshells erupted from Mata Hari like bees swarming to a hive. KKPs speared out toward the Mican’s ship. Decoy pods cast off and went inert. Mata Hari ’s stealth mode came on with a vengeance. Vectors changed. The ship dived, twisted, jerked back on its course and began laying down a systematic barrage of laser pulses, excimer beams, and neutral particle weapon blasts that moved out toward the foe at the speed of light. The Mican was still out of Strike range, but perhaps the mix of lightspeed weapons and physical KKPs would confuse Legion’s Fire Control software. He grunted. Power fed into the antimatter generators, building up a four shot reserve. Sensors reached out. Behind
Two and a quarter seconds.
Comlink gongs sounded again.
Mata Hari floated in his mind, her persona-image now that of the exotic black-skinned Barbarian Princess, but one who seemed a bit worried. “Matthew, I believe you should take this incoming call from Despot Ioannis.”
Irritated, he thought-imaged acceptance. “Put him on visual.”
Before the photon relays closed, he changed.
Step-down.
Slow.
Slower.
Crawling.
Matt blinked, back at human real-time. He hoped his gamble in leaving ocean-time would pay off. Nearby, Eliana leaned forward as she saw him come out of his Pit reverie.
“Matt. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Be patient.” He blinked, completing the comlink connection. Ioannis shimmered into being in the front holosphere.
Ioannis, Despot of Zeus Station and Leader of Clan Themistocles, looked as a frightened man should look. He twined fingers together nervously while behind him, his executive office smoked with burning circuits and drone-people ran around putting out fires. The Greek swallowed hard. “Vigilante, we have radiation burns to twenty-one spacewalkers on routine repair assignments.” Lips tightened. “Two are expected to die from radburn. Can you defend us?”
What? Oh, yes. Two seconds ago . . . one of Legion’s throwaway scoutships had exploded three planetary diameters out, but all too close to the station. “Probably.” Tactical readouts now streamed in from the new Nanoprobes they’d seeded right after the appearance of Obliteration. “I’m working on protecting my ship, right now. Tell Dreedle to keep her corvettes home—they’re hopelessly outclassed by this MotherShip.”
“So I thought,” Ioannis said tiredly. “How long do we have?”
“Depends on whether they want to talk before they fight.”
“Matt, look!” Eliana pointed at the wall as another of his deep space Nanoprobes exploded on the wallscreen. The foe closed in, shortening the distance between their speeding ships.
“Incoming signal from Obliteration,” keened Mata Hari.
“Later, Ioannis,” he said. The Despot’s surprised image was replaced by the smoldering, griffin-tiger image of Legion. The alien stood atop a spotlighted dais inside its own Bridge. Dirty brown wings flapped slowly atop its red-striped back. Its voice was formal, exact, and hurried when it spoke.
“Ship Mata Hari, under Command of Matthew Raven’s-Wing Dragoneaux, you are hereby notified that you are in violation of our contract with Despot Ioannis Themistocles, Zeus Station and Olympus Colony, and with Autarch Dreedle of the Derindl Forty-Eighth Dynasty.” Three purple eyes blinked quickly. “Specifically, Paragraph 4a, Section Two, Adjunct Delta gives Halicene Conglomerate the right to take any action necessary to recover, repair and reinstate our Mining Automaton, currently emplaced on south continent. Again, per our mining contract and in exchange for the provision of nine hundred full spectrum neonatal placental units to Autarch Dreedle’s predecessor and to former Despot Nikolaos of Clan Karamanlis. Human, you have four minutes to exit this stellar system or you will be destroyed.”
Matt grinned defiantly. “Prime Dominant Three, called Legion, you should have checked with your expert legal software. The Anarchate’s Fourth Compendium of Rules clearly states that no planet can willingly abrogate the First Rule—that is, allow interference in its internal planetary affairs. Even if they wanted to, this contract provision is invalid.” The Mican griffin-tiger had not moved while he spoke. “Second, the neonatal units are useless if you destroy the planet’s habitat. Third, why did you attack Zeus Station?”
The Mican yawned, showing massive canines. “We did not attack the station. If we had, the station would be nonexistent. We just offered them a ‘reminder’ as to who has the power to interpret contract provisions. You seem to have forgotten this. Three minutes remain.”
Nearby, Eliana leaned forward in her accel-couch despite the impact clamshells, clearly worried. Matt acted nonchalant. “My contract is with Despot Ioannis, and on behalf of Autarch Dreedle.”
Legion smiled a toothy grin. “Perhaps you should check with your allies before you act so stupidly. Monitor this recent Vidcast from the new Olympus Colony Despot, one Nikolaos.” Feeling shock, Matt watched as the holosphere went split-screen.
The frightened image of Nikolaos read from a piece of paper that he held in shaking hands. “To all whom it may concern and especially to the Anarchate provincial base. This gives notice that the affairs of the human colony of Olympus have now passed back into the hands of Clan Karamanlis. The ruler of Clan Themistocles, one Ioannis, is hereby declared an outlaw.” Nikolaos bit his lip, then read woodenly. “I hereby ask succor from our trading partners, the Halicene Conglomerate, in my efforts to reclaim our rightful rule to Zeus Station. This concludes our agreement.” His image disappeared.
“Noooo!” Eliana cried out, her shoulders shaking. She acted as if all hope were gone. In his mind, Mata Hari joined him in shared cussing.
The Mican lifted one claw-hand. “As you can see, we have the right to be here and do whatever we wish. We have been invited in by a local business concern.” The Mican’s needle-tail lifted and swished lazily.
“That does not include the Derindl!” Matt snarled.
“Why should it?” Legion purred.
“Override!” keened Mata Hari.
The holosphere again went split-screen, with Legion on one side . . . and the harried face of Autarch Dreedle in the other. She spoke hurriedly, her face smudged from smoke, her robes discarded for a combat harness.
“—are now resisting the attack with hand weapons. The Tree Melisen is damaged in two quadrants from parasite bacteria that resist our cleansing efforts.” The image flickered and a brave woman looked up, eyes firm and determined. “Repeat, the Genetic Manufactory for all Derindl is under attack from renegade humans led by Triune Spyridon of the Pericles terrorist group. We call for aid from any quarter. We specifically ask the Anarchate provincial base to assist us in repelling external interference in our internal planetary affairs. We are now resisting with hand weapons. The Tree Melisen is damaged in two quadrants from parasite bacteria that resist our cleansing efforts. Repeat—”
The taped tachmessage recycled. Matt was unable to establish a live connection with Dreedle. He turned back to Legion, who’d also gotten the same broadband message.
The Mican shifted paw position and flared its wings. Purple eyes glowed. “Twenty-five seconds remain, little primate monkey!”
Like the corporate raider and pirate he was, Legion had prepared his way well by either threatening, co-opting, buying off or intimidating all potential opponents . . . while simultaneously undercutting his and Eliana’s few allies. Matt swallowed, his mouth dry. Blinking, he killed the hated image. Then he turned
to sobbing Eliana.
“Patron, we will prevail. Believe me!”
“Matt!” She looked his way, her desperation clear. “I need to do something.”
Lightbeams filled him with images distant and close, and all of them involved flashing machines, horrendous weapons, and death winging near. “Mistress, there’s not a whole lot we can do that isn’t already being done.”
“There is!” she said furiously. “Let me reprogram your orbiting minisats to help Autarch Dreedle in her battle against Spyridon! It’s my home too!”
Splitting his attention, he nodded. “Fine. Put on the virtual reality helmet beside the accel-couch, twig the electro-optical sensors, and see what you can do. Mata Hari will downlink subsidiary comlinks and computer power to your post.”
“Perfect!” Eliana smiled grimly as she moved to help in the battle against Spyridon.
Ocean-time.
His mind filled with an alert from his other partner. “Incoming,” Mata Hari said softly. His neck twinged.
Matt’s body tilted sideways as Mata Hari maneuvered faster than the inertial field could compensate. Outside, in the obsidian darkness of space, the Death Cloud approached. His senses perceived thousands of attacking torps, from nanoseeds on up to airsled-sized nuclear torps.
Obliteration entered Strike Range.
The MotherShip fired at them. Multiple HF and CO2 laser blasts ate away at the mercury vapor cloud lying between them and Obliteration. Most depressing, their own Nanoshells were being located, targeted and destroyed by needle-thin laser beams fired from the Halicene starship, even as it dodged their initial laser barrages. And their own proton beam counter-battery fire was being electromagnetically deflected, dispersed by antimonium gas, or absorbed by layer after layer of ablative shielding on the battleship. For a globe eight kilometers across, Matt estimated Obliteration’s ablative shield at over a hundred meters thick. Crux point arrived. If they stayed where they were, they allowed the StratTac comps of the Mican to predict their position with high accuracy. If they moved, they would lose the protective vapor shield. But that was already falling behind as they fled toward Zeus Station.