The Blunt End of Oblivion (The Blunt End Series, Book 2)

by L. J. Simpson

  The colony elders then tried a different strategy – they would engage their own private security. Word went out and Jacks answered the call. Parking the Reaper in orbit, Jacks, Fletcher and Tully waited for the raider’s return. And now, less than twenty four hours later a ship had dropped out of super-space and was approaching the planet on impulse power.

  Tully played with the scanner’s controls as the unidentified vessel gradually closed the range.

  “It’s not military,” he said. “Or even ex-military. It looks very much like one of those old Pigeon Class courier ships.”

  “A glorified mail packet,” snorted Jacks.

  “Yes, sir, though heavily modified by the looks of things. If I’m not mistaken, there’s actually a gun turret sticking out of the top of her hull.”

  “How terribly quaint. Any other armament?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And these are our privateers?” said Fletcher in disdain.

  “If they are, they’re either just starting up or they’ve been having a considerable run of bad luck,” said Jacks. “Have they detected us?”

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “Good. Wait until they get between us and the planet and then bring the engines online.”

  A few minutes later the raider fired her braking thrusters and began her descent towards the planet’s upper atmosphere. They still hadn’t seen the Reaper.

  “Time to announce ourselves. Mr. Fletcher, move us onto an intercept course.”

  The Reaper swooped down on the raider like a bird of prey, eventually holding position above its port quarter. The raider continued its casual descent oblivious to the fact that it now had a wingman.

  “I do believe that they still haven’t seen us,” said Tully.

  “Either that or this is one very cool customer indeed.”

  “Well, we’ll soon find out,” said Jacks. “Mr. Tully, power up the shield generator and then open a channel to that raider.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” replied Tully. “Shields are up and stable. Channel is open.”

  “Unidentified vessel,” boomed Jacks in his most stentorian voice. “This is Commodore Jacks of the Orlov 5 militia. State your intentions.”

  Fletcher couldn’t help but laugh as the raider immediately shimmied and then banked steeply away to starboard. “Well I guess that woke them up,” he said. The raider increased speed and began climbing away.

  “Stay with them, Mr. Fletcher. Keep on their tail.”

  The raider went to full power and headed out for open space but there could be no escape – the Reaper matched it with ease. Jacks once again hailed them. “Unidentified vessel! I repeat, state your intentions.”

  “No response, sir,” said Tully. Seconds later a volley of fire erupted from the turret atop the raider’s hull. Several shots whistled past the Reaper’s cockpit, the last two rounds ricocheting off the forward shields in a shower of orange sparks.

  “No damage, sir,” said Tully. “Shields are holding.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Tully,” said Jacks. “Return fire if you please.”

  The raider had three engines grouped together in a triangular arrangement. Bruno selected the Reaper’s rotary cannon and set his reticule in the exact center of the triangle. With a final check of his aim he thumbed the fire button. A stream of cannon shells reached out, homed in on the raider’s stern and ripped into its engine module. One engine promptly exploded in a flash of blue flame. Damaged, the other two began to cough and misfire.

  Deprived of thrust, the raider gave in to gravity and began a slow curve back towards the planet below. As it reached the upper atmosphere another engine died, sending the stricken ship spiraling down towards one of Orlov 5’s frozen polar regions. Eventually, all that could be seen was a trail of black smoke billowing out from the ship’s stern as it dropped out of sight.

  “Break off the pursuit, Mr. Fletcher,” said Jacks. “Then signal the colony that the threat has been neutralized.”

  * * *

  Orbital One

  “Acting Ensign Parker requesting permission to come aboard.”

  “Permission granted,” said Chuck with a smile. “Good to see you again, Penny. How’s life been treating you?”

  “Four months on a front line frigate? Brilliant – who could ask for more? Pity it had to come to an end so soon but the Lancelot’s off for a refit anyway. I was due to go back to Space School for the graduation ceremony but received orders to come here and join the crew of the Artemis instead.”

  “I presume they told you why?”

  “Not in so many words. I supposed it’s all to do with Commodore Jacks.”

  “You’ve heard all about his escape, then?” said Chuck.

  “Yes… I hear you had a narrow escape of your own.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. Luckily, my eyebrows were the only casualties.”

  “Ah! I thought there was something different about you. Never mind, I’m sure they’ll grow back and if not, I imagine Dolores will lend you an eyebrow pencil. I take it she’s still away?”

  “Yes… She’s best out of it to tell the truth. Having said that, part of me wishes she was still here. She’s the only person I know who had the measure of Jacks. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for her. Come to think, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, either. If you hadn’t dragged me off that cargo pod before it went bang, I wouldn’t have survived for Jacks to try and shoot me in the head.”

  “But then Dolores couldn’t have saved you and you’d never have fallen in love. It’s fate – it’s all meant to be.”

  “Random chance as far as I can see. And even if it is all meant to be, why do I have to do everything the hard way? Why couldn’t I just have met Dolores in the canteen or at a cocktail party, instead of me having to chase a murdering psychopath half way across the system… and then get beaten up, shot at and very nearly murdered myself.”

  “I could have left you in that pod and saved you all the trouble, I suppose,” said Penny.

  “Fair point,” agreed Chuck.

  “So when do we join the Artemis?”

  “Tonight. We’ll have a couple of days to familiarize ourselves with the systems and then we’re off for the shake-down cruise. You’ve just about got time to say hello to the Ops crew before we head off to Delta Section to meet up with our new crewmates.”

  * * *

  The Reaper

  With its mission complete, the Reaper entered super-space and left Orlov 5 far behind. Leaving Fletcher and Tully in charge of the flight deck, Jacks retired to his cabin in the Reaper’s midsection. Though small, the cabin was exceptionally well appointed. Unlike military vessels where function was the only consideration, the cabin boasted a polished wood interior complete with brass fittings, giving it an almost antique feel. The Reaper’s former captain had evidently enjoyed his creature comforts. Along one wall lay a comfortable bunk with a desk and leather chair sitting opposite. A sophisticated communications array sat to one side as did the previous captain’s private terminal. It was secured by an encrypted password but that was something Jacks could attend to in due course. For the time being, he contented himself with opening up the drinks cabinet and pouring a shot of bourbon into one of the expensive looking cut glasses.

  Jacks leaned back in the chair and swirled the whiskey around the bottom of the glass, savoring the aroma. Their first mission – though almost childishly simple – had gone without a hitch. It was always good to get a tour of duty off to a good start. The colony’s elders had reported that the remains of the raider had been found at the bottom of a blackened crater a few thousand kilometers to the north – an ugly blemish on the pristine, polar landscape. Whether the crew had escaped the crash, who could say? Even if they had managed to eject and land safely, they would not survive the coming winter blizzards. Like the dark stain on the icepack, all traces of their existence would soon be erased.

  Suitably pleased with the outcome, the elders had paid th
e agreed fee without hesitation. Though a modest sum, the profit margin was boosted by the sale of a case of plasma rifles. It might enable the colonists to defend themselves in future, but Jacks personally doubted it. It was one thing to buy a weapon. It was quite another to look down the sights at another human being and then pull the trigger, especially when your adversary was also well armed.

  The simple truth was that there were very few born killers, and those that were rarely took up careers in agriculture. There might be a few among them with the wits to survive, but lacking in experience, the farmers of Orlov 5 would likely freeze, panic, or just miss the target altogether. And then they would die.

  But that was not Jacks’ problem and he quickly turned his attention to the future. For the time being, they would leave this sector behind and head back towards civilization. Their destination was an outpost on the colony of Grenedal. Close enough to the core worlds to be frequented by a wide cross section of travelers, it was also remote enough to be able slip in and out without attracting unwanted attention. It was the ideal place for picking up new contacts and contracts.

  Grenedal also had the advantage of being one of the outermost systems on the data-net, a sub-space communications network that afforded instant access to news feeds from all the major worlds. Intellectually motivated, Jacks liked to keep abreast of all the latest political and economic events that shaped the universe he lived in. The election campaign on Rubicon was coming to a climax and within the next few days the latest exploration and military budgets were due to be announced. All game changing developments, but the thing Jacks was looking forward to most of all was catching up on the obituaries. Three of them in particular…

  CHAPTER 12: Artemis

  Orbital One

  Compared to the laid back atmosphere of Alpha Section, Delta was a veritable hive of activity. Presenting themselves at the security checkpoint, Chuck and Penny were met by one of the Titan Corporation project managers. His name tag said Moffat and he wore a distinctly haggard expression on his face. He glanced at his watch three times as they made their introductions and then set off into the depths of Delta Section at a brisk pace. He guided Chuck and Penny past various workshops and storage bays before showing them into an office at the end of the capacious Hangar 4. Wherever they went, they encountered groups of mechanics, fitters and engineers, all scurrying about at a frenetic pace. Unless the Titan employees were as adept as Archie at looking busy while doing very little, they were being made to earn their pay for real.

  “Busy place,” said Chuck.

  “Tell me about it,” said Moffat. “The whole damned depot is on overtime. We’ve got deadlines for this, deadlines for that, too small a workforce and not enough space. They’ll deadline us to death before they’ve finished. I haven’t had a day off in weeks. Much more of this it’ll be flat-line, never mind deadline.”

  “Deadlines… A triumph of profit margin over feasibility… and the curse of working men everywhere,” said Chuck.

  “Not to mention project managers… But, the good news is that the Artemis is up and running and just about ready to go. I take it you’ve been briefed on her capabilities?”

  “Not really,” said Chuck with a shake of his head.

  “Ah,” said Moffat. “Oh well, not to worry. Let me bring up the schematics.” He tapped a few buttons on his console and a detailed plan of the Artemis appeared on the screen. “As you can see, she’s quite a size – over eight hundred meters from stem to stern. She’s the first dedicated asteroid interceptor. There have been other vessels converted to fulfill the same task – with mixed results, it has to be said – but the Artemis has been designed from the bottom up with one specific purpose in mind – to intercept and classify hazardous objects and then either deflect or destroy them as necessary.

  “The command and control center is located in here in the bows along with the habitat zone. Behind that there’s a three hundred meter long, tunnel like section which houses the rail gun.”

  “The what?” asked Chuck.

  “The rail gun. It uses magnetic fields to fire ultra high velocity rounds. The rounds are only a few centimeters in diameter, but it spews them out like a machine gun. The rounds vaporize on impact, along with a chunk of the target. The gaseous ejection acts just like an impulse engine, the net result being that the target is slowly nudged off course. With enough lead time just a fraction of a degree can be enough to protect a colony from Armageddon. The rail gun is an extremely effective system but only useful in certain circumstances. Get the calculations wrong and all you do is fragment the target.”

  “And turn one large, dangerous asteroid into several smaller, equally dangerous asteroids,” said Penny.

  “Exactly. More effective is the laser array, located back here near the stern. Rated at two hundred terawatts, it’s the biggest, baddest laser ever hauled into space. The objective is just the same – to vaporize a chunk of the target, though unlike the rail gun you can adjust the power and focus of the beam to suit the individual target. Given enough lead time it would be possible to vaporize the target completely, but with the power we have at our disposal we should be able to divert a small to medium sized asteroid even when close to planet-fall. Both the rail gun and the laser array have been tested in orbit. The next stage is to find a few suitable asteroids and conduct some live trials. The Artemis leaves in forty eight hours.”

  “How big a crew?” asked Penny.

  “Nominally three,” said Moffat.

  “Only three for a ship that size?” said Chuck in surprise.

  “Correct. Most of the ship’s functions are controlled by the AI. She’s highly automated and can even operate autonomously if necessary. Lieutenant Commander Savage – a serving fleet officer – is in overall command. He is assisted by two of our own personnel who are responsible for the upkeep and operation of the rail gun and laser array.”

  “How about us?” asked Chuck.

  “There will be plenty of work to do calibrating the various systems and I expect there will be the usual teething troubles you get with any new ship. I understand you are an experienced systems engineer, Lieutenant Poulson.” Chuck nodded. “Always good to have someone with a military background and a recent graduate from Space School is equally welcome.”

  “Guess so,” said Chuck.

  “Anyway, I’d best introduce you to the other crew members. Lieutenant Commander Savage is down on Atlas at present but Angus and James are just in the hangar. If you’d like to follow me?”

  Moffat picked up a few files from the desk and breezed out of the office, leaving Chuck and Penny to follow in his wake.

  “What’s he talking about?” whispered Chuck as they hurried after him. “Good to have someone with a military background? I only got drafted yesterday.”

  “Perhaps someone told him about the medal. And you do look quite dashing with those two bars on your shoulders.”

  “Whatever,” said Chuck as they followed Moffat into the main hangar and picked their way between piles of prefabricated hab-units, racks of life support modules and half a dozen excavators.

  “All this lot’s off to PSV693 in the morning,” said Moffat. “Marginal Earth-like moon out in the Vargas sector. Freezing cold, no sunshine and an all male crew. Rather them than me.”

  Rounding a pile of cargo containers, Chuck and Penny had their first look at their new crew-mates. Angus and James were loading crates of foodstuffs onto a trolley. Angus stood six feet seven inches tall and was shaped like a wedge, with great muscular arms dangling down from a pair of industrial strength shoulders. A shock of ginger hair topped a craggy face, complete with a nose bent over at almost right angles and a scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his jaw line. By contrast, James stood five feet five and looked like a choirboy.

  “My goodness,” said Penny under her breath. “I wouldn’t like to meet Angus down a dark alley at night.”

  “What?” said Moffat. “He’s a great big softy. Daft as a brush –
wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s James that you want to watch. Don’t get me wrong – he’s a good hearted lad but don’t ever get in his way when he’s fired up. I’ve seen him topple men twice his size without breaking a sweat. Hard as nails, he is.”

  Chuck glanced over at the unlikely pair. Angus smiled – at least, it might have been a smile; with a face like that it was hard to tell. James just gave a friendly wave as he and Angus pushed the cart into a nearby airlock and closed the door behind them.

  “They’re just ferrying the last of the supplies over to the Artemis,” said Moffat. “I guess the formal introductions will have to wait until later. There’s a crew meeting scheduled for 16:00, by the way. Deck 1, Room D22. The captain should be back by then so don’t be late. Anyway, I’ve lots to do so why don’t I take you back to the hangar office and you can have a look at the plans of the Artemis while you’re waiting?”

  “Fine by us,” said Chuck.

  “Lt. Commander Savage,” said Penny once Moffat was gone. “Now that’s a fitting name for a captain, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, great,” said Chuck without much enthusiasm. “Savage by name, savage by nature, do you reckon? Now wouldn’t that be just my luck?”

  “We had a Lieutenant Slaughter on the Lancelot, you know.”

  “Did he?”

  “Did he what?”

  “Slaughter anyone?”

  “Shouldn’t think so. He was the chaplain. Lovely man. He used to hand out chocolate bars to everyone attending church parade. He said he’d probably get better results handing out glasses of beer but the chapel wasn’t that big to begin with. Not much space on a frigate, you see.”

  “I thought you were a practicing Confucian.”

  “I am,” said Penny. “But I also like chocolate, and I don’t suppose Confucius was watching anyway. Not a deity you see.”

  “Unlike some of the officers I’ve had the misfortune to meet.”