by Chris Hechtl
But the big gamble was about to pay off or would as soon as they got back to friendly space. Was the skipper planning to take them to Pyrax? It was possible; they'd gotten word that the Gather Fleet had been assembling a conquering fleet to sweep through the sector just before they'd left Horath.
It'd be nice if they'd already gotten to Nightingale, then no bill, no worrying about exposure. But he doubted it. He frowned and then absently ran the calculations. He ran a second set when he realized he'd gone the southern route. That just made the frown deepen. It was possible, probable even. He just wasn't sure. It all depended on the fleet and which way her Commanders jumped and what star systems they had prioritized to take.
Either way they'd find out when they got into orbit in two weeks.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Levinson of the Horseshoe Crab class Frigate Descartes cursed the luck when his sensor watch reported the arrival of a new ship. The ship had jumped in from B443 so it had a questionable origin. He'd just started a new war game with Captain Yu on Loch, Descartes' sister ship, in order to pass the time.
He was frustrated; he knew it. So was Troy. They knew the crew was frustrated by their situation too. But they didn't have a choice; they weren't going to abandon their post. Ever since they'd run down that Horathian fleet, they'd learned to appreciate the duties of being on a picket, however boring it was when no one else was around.
Now the usual crap about actually liking the boredom over the brief moments of excitement came into his mind. He did his usual best to brush them aside.
“Skipper, we've been getting a lot of interference from the solar storms in the area. Our signals may not punch through right away. Not until we get clear of them at any rate,” PO R'll reported.
“Do your best,” the captain ordered. “Pass on our compliments and order them to heave to and prepare to be boarded once we've got an intercept course. I want to do this and get back to our war game,” he growled. Yu had kicked his ass in the last two passes, and it was dead even. He was determined to make it game and set, match on this go around, not a draw.
“Aye aye, sir,” the Veraxin rating replied. She tapped at her controls with her truehands and passed the order on to the civilian ship as well as their authority to pass on such orders.
“Let Loch know what we're doing. Tell them to tag along. We might as well refuel at Bertha before we go back to the games,” Captain Levinson ordered. The tanker was the real reason he felt safe enough to play the war games in real life. And hell, if they broke something maybe it would get the navy to cough up the relief they'd been promised and regretfully delayed for so damn long he mused darkly.
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
“Are they serious?” D'angelo demanded, eyes wide. “Who the hell do they think they are?”
“Are they ours?” Captain Bellerose demanded as she came onto the bridge. “You didn't respond, did you?”
The pilot shook his head vehemently no. He knew better; she'd have his balls if he'd had. “No, ma'am. We've had an automated IFF challenge, but we ignored it per your orders. This is from another ship though. It's too far out for our sensors to see it though,” he reported with a grimace.
“A trader?” the captain asked as she took her seat. She grimaced as she took a look at her side monitor and then the plot. D'angelo was right; they had crappy civilian grade sensors so damn myopic they were nearly useless in a situation like the one they were finding themselves in.
She was a Horathian. Sure they were in a freighter, but her people were the hunters not the prey. Being interrogated set her on edge and her excess arrogance made her fume.
“No, ma'am,” the rating replied carefully. He glanced at the others and then replayed the message.
The captain frowned as she listened. The inflection meant it wasn't human. There was a slight buzz that meant it was Veraxin or T'clock. That didn't make sense. Nor did what they said. federation? As if! The ship though … “Descartes,” she murmured thoughtfully. She wracked her brain but nothing came up. “I don't recognize the name. You ran the war book?” She turned to the pilot turned bridge rating.
“Yes, ma’am, but its fifteen years out of date.” He shook his head.
“Size?”
“Based on what comm picked up, they are talking to someone else. That means two ships, ma'am. They are still on the outer edge of our sensor envelope. Based on their speed, they appear to be too small to be tramp freighters. And well, the order to heave to …,” the rating shrugged and pointed helplessly to the plot. “I think they've plotted an intercept course, ma'am. They'll link up with us short of the planetary orbit,” he said.
“Damn it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Horath …”
“Fresh challenge coming in, ma'am. They are … transmitting their authority? It says they are a pair of warships of the federation, ma'am,” Oswald said, turning and looking at the captain with wide frightened eyes. “What the hell, ma'am?”
“Did we just fly into some sort of other dimension?” the captain muttered. “Someone figure out what the hell is going on. Is this a prank?”
“I've been monitoring transmissions from the planet, ma'am. There is chatter about the federation. I can filter for it,” Oswald said. He nervously licked his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing in fear.
“Do so. Meanwhile, Angel, plot a course away from the planet and to the ET jump point.”
“Ma'am?”
“You heard me. No way in hell am I going to allow us to be tamely boarded, if they are ours or anyone else's. No, this is fishy.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He frowned and pecked at his station for a few moments. When she cleared her throat, he realized he'd stalled long enough and looked up. “Course plotted.”
“Then execute it. Minimum burn, let's see if they react. How they react I mean,” she said. He nodded and fed the course change to the helm.
:::{)(}:::
“They changed course. They are running to the ET jump point,” R'll reported an hour later.
“You can run but you can't hide. No response?” Captain Levinson demanded.
“No, sir.”
“I know; I know you would have reported if there was one. Did they contact the planet?”
“No, sir. Not that we are aware. The geometry is off for us to pick up any signal traffic though.”
“Query the planet. Maybe they think we're pirates or something.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Meanwhile,” the captain said as he tapped at the computer. The plot shifted. “Helm, come to course 331 mark 31 and increase speed to one-half impulse. Comm, signal Loch to follow suit and stay on our flank.”
“Issuing the order before the comm signal?” his XO and chief engineer asked from his repeater panel. “Something up, Skip?”
“I want to see if Troy's people are paying attention,” the captain replied with a mild shrug. The XO snorted. “I'm headed to dinner. Keep me posted of any changes,” the captain said as he exited the hot seat.
“Aye, sir. R'll has the bridge,” the Veraxin said. By now the rating was used to being dumped in the watch. She was watch qualified as was everyone else on the ship. She was even considering mustanging to officer when they got back to civilization—if they got back. From the look of it, it wouldn't be anytime soon apparently.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Bellerose ordered Marengo to try to run for the Epsilon Triangula jump point instead. She clung to the armrests of her chair, desperate to jump and salvage something of the situation. Once they were in hyper, they'd figure something out even if navigation and the chief were screaming like gelded Denubian rats that they didn't have enough fuel.
They were conservative. She knew that. Mackey told her as much many times. They were low; she knew it. Very damn low, perhaps too low to risk it, but risk it she would. She had no intention of getting boarded and her prize taken from her. Not when they'd come so far, risked so much to get where they were.
; “D'angelo, tie the Ssilli in. See if Chief Faver's skip idea will work. Navigation, you and I will try to work on the calculations with the chief.”
“Okay,” D'angelo said dubiously. The navigator nodded as well and got to work.
:::{)(}:::
Brrfrak was bored. He'd rested after breakout, now he wanted to do something. The time in the false ocean made him feel better, feel … alive. Better. It felt as if he had purpose. It kept him from thinking of his miserable existence and the death of Sputtersque.
He'd feared the two-legs were going to eat her remains. Instead they'd cut portions off her then took them away. Then they'd frozen her tank somehow. He wasn't certain how; their technology was tantamount to magic to him.
Now the two-leg with mammaries came and leaned over his tank. She and the other two-leg that cared for him attached the video feeds over his eyes. He held his head still to allow the procedure, not even wincing when they used Velcro on his eye stalks to keep the videos in place.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the virtual world. He deliberately turned off his sonar pinging to concentrate on the false world.
The crew fed data to the Ssilli's computers. The computers interpreted the data from the various sensor feeds and presented the image of the chasing ships as virtual characters in the game engine they'd co-opted for the simulator.
Brrfrak didn't know any of that. All he did know and see was other ships as other Ssilli. Instantly he felt the desire to talk, to attempt to communicate. Brrfrak steered the phantom Ssilli and therefore the ship to the other Ssilli, ignoring the sharp jabs and probes of electric shocks.
:::{)(}:::
“It's no use, Skipper; he threw us off course and refuses to commit to our intended course. I don't even know if we can get him to skip jump. I don't think they finished the software to try,” Kelsea reported.
“Get to duty station two. The OMS is balking there. Get it fixed pronto. We'll figure something out on this end,” the skipper growled. “Angel's got the helm.”
“On my way, ma'am.” Kelsea shook her head.
:::{)(}:::
“I don't know what the hell they are pulling. It's like someone is drunk at the helm. They are all over the place, sir,” R'll reported. “They are stabilizing now—on course for the ET jump point.”
“Still nothing?” It had been a day, and the unknown ship hadn't replied to their hail. The Veraxin signaled the negative. “Then send it again. Maybe they've got an automated helm or something or they think we're pirates.”
“Quite possible, sir.”
“Let them know we're not. Send them our thumbnail history if you have to. But one way or another, they are heaving to and they will be inspected. We'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
The two-legs tried to stop him for a while; they prodded him with shocks but to no avail. The moment they stopped, Brrfrak's interest in the other beings took over all over again. It was instinct, it was a craving for some contact, it wasn't certain. Eventually he grew to ignore the pain, even when it grew in intensity and duration.
Finally, the two-legs eventually were forced to cut the feed. Blind in the dark, he thrashed in the tank in discontent.
:::{)(}:::
“What the hell are they pulling?” Captain Levinson demanded. He indicated the lumbering freighter. “What are they doing? Seriously, any ideas?”
Captain Yu shook his head on his screen. “I don't know. But they are going slow as molasses in January trying to do it.”
“But we can't overhaul with their lead—not before they get to the jump point.”
“We're going to have to follow our duty. One last warning then a shot. Then we'll have to take out their engines. It's not like they are giving us any choice in the matter,” Captain Levinson growled.
“Aye. You're going on record with the order?” Captain Yu asked.
“I am,” Captain Levinson said grimly.
“So be it,” Captain Yu replied over their link. “I just hope it's not some sort of panic and we're killing a bus load of kids or something,” he said.
“It's on them; they should have stopped.”
“Try telling the kids that.”
“Hopefully, I won't have to,” the captain growled.
:::{)(}:::
“This is Descartes with a final warning. We are firing a warning shot. Should you not heave to after this shot, we will consider you hostile and fire for effect. You have two minutes upon receipt of this message to consider your options. Consider them wisely. We have no desire to harm you, but we will do our duty. Descartes out,” the comm message played out over the bridge speakers.
The captain frowned at the open door. By now it was probably all over the ship she thought.
A warning shot she thought. Well, she couldn't run, not and get away, so …
“Missile trace! Missile inbound!” D'angelo reported when the clock reached the two-minute mark.
“Well, they are punctual,” Oswald said dryly.
“Shove it. Damn it …”
“I've got the helm,” the captain growled. The two ratings turned to her, but she ignored them. She waited until the missile was in its final acquisition mode before she jinked. But she jinked inside it, not away.
All hell broke loose as the missile's warhead sensed the proximity of its target and went off prematurely. The nuclear round tore Marengo's stern apart and kicked her like a bucking bronco.
:::{)(}:::
“What the hell just happened?” Troy demanded over the ship's laser link.
“It looks like they moved into the missile. Damned if I know why,” Oscar replied, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You better damn well hope they weren't civilians panicking, Oscar. You know your ass is grass for firing on her. If you killed them for no purpose …”
“As you were, Lieutenant,” Oscar said, sitting up straight as he slapped his fellow ship captain down. “I made the call. I'd make it again if I had to. Now we've got to get aboard that ship and do what we can.”
“Easier said than done,” Troy replied stiffly. They both watched their respective sensor feeds as their prey's small OMS engines spurted in an aborted attempt to right her before they failed. Her running lights and sensors went dark a moment later.
“Debris cloud behind the target. It looks like the hit tore her engine and stern apart,” R'll reported.
“We'll have to um, arrange an um, boarding party. Yes,” Oscar said nodding. “We'll draw them from both ships. Descartes will carry them over to dock.”
“Understood,” Captain Yu replied with a nod. “I'll get my people. Who will be ranking officer?”
“I'll send Vlad. He's good.”
“And since he's your engineer, he can make a quick assessment of the damage. Gotcha,” Captain Yu replied. “We've got a few hours before we can link up with them. I'm moving Loch in to transfer my people to you now.”
“Right,” Captain Levinson replied crisply. He looked around the bridge compartment. “Look alive people, we're going to be a bit crowded for a bit. Lieutenant Contenov, you are in charge of the boarding party,” he ordered over the PA.
“I'm on it. We're loading up on rescue equipment and med packs now,” the engineer replied, also over the PA.
“While you are at it, stop by the ship's armory and arm yourselves. There is no telling what's going on over there,” the captain said, looking at the image of the tumbling wreck.
“Roger,” the engineer replied grimly after a moment of hesitation.
:::{)(}:::
Main Engineering had run-away plasma leaks all over the ship to contend with. The survivors couldn't handle that level of damage control required to save their ship. Chief Faver swore viciously as the computer cut fuel to the power plant in a desperate but sabotaging act. Instead of saving the situation as it had been programmed, it instead stalled the fusion reactor and set the governors to scram it fo
r the safety of the ship. Bottle containment failed, and the emergency systems powered the reactor down before it could collapse, venting the plasma to space in the process. A long superhot trail of plasma wrapped itself around the ship and scalded the hull, welding some areas shut and melting through others in hull breaches where the skin was thin enough. Some of the plasma drifted away, but some stayed close to the hull, attracted by the ship's weak mass and flickering gravitational field. With the feed cut and the remaining plasma in the conduits rapidly cooling, there went the ship's remaining power.
That left the ship a derelict. “We are so, so very much screwed,” Chief Faver growled, placing a hand over the oozing cut on his arm.
:::{)(}:::
Brrfrak was left trapped in the stygian darkness of his polluted water chamber prison; he used his sonar and felt the terror as his enraged captors came for him. He watched helplessly as they cut the feed to his life support and refused to cry out in pain as the three two-legs stood around him, arguing in their vocal language.
They were going to stand there and watch him die, perhaps die as well? He wasn't certain. His vision was keen in the dark. He looked around, but there was no point, no hope.
There was something odd though, odd about it all. Not about the situation but in his reaction to it. He didn't feel regret, just … acceptance. And a little bit of triumph at finally getting them for a little for all the torment they'd inflicted on him and his beloved.
It was small, cold comfort, but it was something. He decided to treasure it for as long as the feelings lasted.
:::{)(}:::
“This is Captain Levinton of the federation frigate Descartes again. Whether you like it or not, you are now heaving to. Prepare to be boarded,” a cold voice said over the radio before the communications link went dead.