“Yoshida's been telling you the facts of life?”
“Something like that. I get one chance to pull this off, or I get a one-way ticket to a penal colony. Which is about what I expected, I guess.” Frowning, he added, “How the hell did Schmidt manage to call out, anyway? I left orders to leave her incommunicado. I was afraid of something like this.”
“Don't look at me,” Dietrich replied. “I'll only point out once again that we know that somebody with command access is playing a fast one with us.” He paused, and added, “I'll watch every move she makes on the bridge. And Petrova, too. I don't trust either of them.”
“I'm surprised you trust me.”
“I've got to trust someone.” He paused, then said, “You realize that Schmidt thinks, quite sincerely, that you are working with the rebellion. That moving to Sinaloa Station is taking the squadron into a trap.” Looking around, he asked, “Is it?”
“Sam?”
“Damn it, Mike, you've got to admit that it's pretty convenient. Almost as if it was timed.” He paused, then added, “Try walking around below decks sometime. This crew isn't happy. And I think that goes for a lot of other ships in the fleet. I'd guess there are a lot of potential rebels running around down there.”
With a sigh, Mike replied, “Rebels outside and inside, enemies in my own squadron willing to commit near-treason to bring me down, and an incompetent flag officer who'd like to slip his lover…,” At Dietrich's expression, he added, “Come on, join the rest of us in the real world! What do you think is going on? He'd like to put her into the command chair. Probably wants to score a few points. Or he's worried she'll squeal to his wife.”
“Hell of a Fleet,” Dietrich said.
“Unfortunately it's the only one we've got.”
“Is it?” Dietrich asked. “Is it?” Shaking his head, he walked down the corridor, leaving Mike alone outside. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a well-worn image, the hologram faded from age, controls almost rubbed away from long use. With practiced ease, he worked the mechanism, and an image of his father, recorded twenty years ago, flickered into life, wearing his Federation dress uniform. The recruitment poster model of a ship commander.
“What happened to you, Dad?” he asked, quietly. “What happened out there?”
Chapter 12
“We've arrived,” Hammond said, looking up at the sensor plot. “Enemy squadron is inbound to our location, bearing directly at high speed. I don't know what sort of a brilliant plan you've come up with, Squadron Leader, but I think the time has come for us to know what it is.”
“Plot a course for the planet, Captain,” Kani replied, looking across the cramped bridge. “We're going in.”
Hammond turned to him, along with everyone else on the deck, and said, “You're crazy! Montevideo isn't designed to operate in atmosphere! She's got the flight profile of a brick. There's no way she'd survive re-entry.”
“We've got a heat shield,” he replied. “And the artificial gravity should mitigate most of the impact. That, and our engines will probably work until the last minute.” Looking around the room, he added, “This is a one-way trip, people, an elevator heading right down, but it's the safest place in the system right now. That's why all of our equipment was stowed at the top of the ship. It's most likely to survive the impact there.”
“What sort of heat shield?” Montgomery asked.
“A hundred thousand tons of ore.”
“Not a brick,” Hammond replied. “An asteroid. Slamming right into the oceans of Coronado. Do you have any idea how hard we'll hit if the engines fail?”
“Better do our best to make sure they don't, then,” Kani replied. “Set your course, Captain.” He moved his hand cautiously close to the holster at his belt, noting with satisfaction as Voronova, Montgomery and Nguyen did the same. Emotions tore their way across Hammond's face, before the reluctant commander finally nodded.
“Who's going to fly her?” one of the technicians asked.
“I will,” Kani replied. “I've probably had more experience of atmospheric flight than anyone else on board. With shuttles, admittedly, but I've flown freighters before. Hammond, take Flight Engineering, and watch the power distribution on the engines. I'll do my best to shield them through the worst of the re-entry heat. Nguyen, ride the sensors.” Turning to Voronova, he added, “Take a seat next to me. If something happens to me, take over. Don't wait for an order, just do it.”
“Got it,” she replied, as Kani settled into the helm.
“Montgomery, hail the station, and inform them that we have escaped from the rebels, would like to surrender, but are having serious problems with course control. Make up something.” Before the young pilot could protest, he added, “I know a quick analysis of our telemetry will make it obvious that we're lying, but every second we buy gives us a better chance of pulling this off.”
“I'll see what I can do,” the young man said, doubtfully, as he sat down at the communications station, playing around in a bid to find the correct frequency. “I've never done anything quite like this before.”
“Then you're picking a good time to start.”
Kani settled down at the controls, glancing up at the sensor display before resting his hands on the thrusters, making a series of light taps to get the feel of the ship. As he expected, it was sluggish, slow to respond, and Hammond was almost certainly quite correct in her assessment of the freighter's atmospheric flight characteristics. Nevertheless, they only had to make it down to the surface. Once she was down, that's where she would stay.
“Boosting power to gravitational field,” Hammond reported. “I'm throwing everything to that and the engines. Aside from sensors, we're not going to need anything else. The air down there is borderline-breathable.”
“Define that.”
“We're only going to need respirators. Pressure's a little high, temperature a little on the hot side, and there's nowhere near enough oxygen in the atmosphere, but aside from that, we can walk around down there.” Turning to one of the crewmen, loitering at the rear, she added, “Go get the breathing gear passed around, Harry, and then see that everyone is strapped down. That includes you. This is going to be the roughest ride you've ever dreamed of.”
“Just out of purely academic interest,” Nguyen asked, “what happens when we reach the surface?”
“I'll tell you that when we land,” Kani replied. “Suffice to say that we're going to be giving those bastards up on the station a little surprise. Now focus, people. We can play guessing games later.” Glancing at the chronometer, he added, “We've got something like ten hours before Polaris is scheduled to arrive. Plenty of time.”
“Fighters are still on an intercept course,” Nguyen reported. “Closing directly, arrowhead formation.” She paused, then said, “They aren't on an optimum trajectory, though.”
“Of course they aren't,” Voronova replied. “They think we're heading into a close flyby. You'd have to be out of your mind to deliberately crash into a planet.”
Kani smiled, then turned back to the controls, looking up again at the sensor display. He adjusted his course, tweaking the freighter on a trajectory that would take them out of the system, making it look as though they were trying to return to the gravitational threshold and engage the Tau Drive to escape. Nothing was further from his mind, but if he could feed the suspicions of the enemy squadron leader, so much the better.
“Interception in five minutes, sir,” Nguyen said.
Shaking his head, Montgomery said, “We've been ordered to lay over for inspection. Failing that, we're to be shot down. Though I got the impression that they were hoping to capture the ship, rather than destroy it.”
“I'll bet they are,” Voronova replied. “Can you imagine the bounty the Commerce Directorate will pay if they can recover this ship intact?”
“A pity we're going to have to disappoin
t them,” Kani said. “Monty, try a different tactic. Pretend that you're under duress, that there are prisoners on board, and that they are attempting to get the traitors out of the bridge.”
“That won't work,” Hammond said, bluntly.
“Buy me a few more seconds,” Kani said, watching the incoming fighters on the screen, their commander altering their trajectory, setting up for a series of precision strikes. Montevideo had no defenses worth a damn, and he didn't dare unleash the fighters on board. They had to be saved for later, and they'd never manage a re-entry without modifications they didn't have time to implement. He couldn't avoid the impacts he knew were coming, and had instead to hope that he could guide them to non-critical areas of the ship.
“Three minutes to intercept,” Nguyen reported. “Enemy formation is holding trajectory. Right down the line, according to the manual. I think we've got another rulebook-humper, Win.”
“Federation Fleet's filled with them,” Kani replied. “That's why we're going to beat them.”
“Don't be so confident,” Jones said, strapped into the life support station at the rear of the bridge. “There aren't as many fools in frontier service as you might think.”
“And if the Federation was smart, they'd be back home passing on their wisdom, rather than sitting in some one-shuttle outpost in the middle of nowhere,” Voronova retorted.
“Not now,” Kani said. “Focus, people. We can hold a political debate later. Right now we're heading into a battle. Monty, any luck with that signal?”
“You need to pick a better liar next time, sir.”
“Don't blame yourself,” he said, glancing back at the pilot. “I doubt they'd believe anyone at the moment. We've certainly given them no reason to trust us. Not after some of the stunts we pulled here last time.”
Frowning, Montgomery said, “Wait one. I'm getting a beacon signal. A tight-beam beacon.”
“That's a contradiction in terms.”
“No, sir, someone's rigged a distress beacon to broadcast just to us. From the surface of the planet.” He reached across for a control, and added, “Middle of one of the larger archipelagos, close to the equator.” With a frown, he continued, “There are records of settlements on the surface, but nothing anywhere near this beacon. I'd say it's new.”
Kani looked up at his course projection, and started to make fine adjustments to his heading, guiding the transport to a position where it could make a run for the beacon. Hammond watched him work, shaking her head in disapproval.
“It could be a trap. How could they know Montevideo was with the rebels?”
“Why else would Sinaloa have launched her fighters at us?” Voronova replied. “It wouldn't take Admiral Nimitz to work that one out. And if it's a trap, what's the point? Presumably they're hoping to disable or destroy us already.”
“It's a lead,” Kani said, “and one that I intend to follow up. Mel, how long before intercept?”
“Ninety seconds. Hang on, everyone.”
The freighter lumbered through space, Kani and Hammond getting all the acceleration they could from the struggling engines, the blue orb ahead growing larger by the second as they dived towards it, gaining speed as they raced for the gravity well. Even now, he had the option of veering off, swinging around the planet in a close flyby or even an atmospheric skip, and the enemy squadron commander was still plotting his approach with that in mind.
“Threat warning, missile launch!” Nguyen reported, and nine dots appeared on the screen, bringing a smile to Kani's face. Three of them were racing ahead of the others, obvious warning shots designed to inspire a surrender. The others were slicing through space towards their rear section, hoping to disable the Tau Drive and strand them in the system. His fingers quickly danced across the controls as he set up a course change with his thrusters, one designed to aid the fighter pilots in their goal, swinging Montevideo around to allow them to do the damage they wished. The Tau Drive was just excess mass now anyway. Montevideo would never travel through space again.
“All missiles running true,” Nguyen continued. “Bearing directly.” She paused, then added, “Fighters are curving away. Heading clear of the planet. Looks like they're moving to intercept us on the far side.” With a smile on her face, she added, “I'd say they're going to be in for a bit of a surprise in a few minutes.”
Kani rode the controls, keeping the freighter level, the bridge crew silent now as they focused on their work. Hammond looked anxiously at the damage control panel, knowing that the current green board would soon be infected with rivers of amber and red, the missiles enough to savage the ship she'd served on for so long.
“Brace for impact!” Kani said, and the missiles slammed into the side of the ship, six explosions ripping through the hull as one, an angry whine filling the air as the deck plating buckled. Sirens sounded from the speakers for a brief moment, killed by Hammond slamming down a series of override switches, her grim face looking across her panel, shaking her head.
“Tau Drive gone, long-range communications out, auxiliary reactor gone. Depressurization on three decks, multiple hull breaches. It's a mess, Win.”
“Any damage to the main engines? Or to the cargo?”
“All intact, but they'll be able to finish us on the next pass.”
“Signal from Sinaloa, sir,” Montgomery said. “We're instructed to surrender or die.”
“Sounds like a plan we're not going to want to go along with,” Kani replied, reaching for the controls. “Tell them what they can do with their kind and generous offer, Monty. Then start a track on that beacon. I want the most exact position plot you can manage, and Mel, I'm going to need a full topographic analysis of the spot. Every detail. Got that?”
“Got it. Working,” she replied. “We've still got forward sensors. Gathering data all the time. We'll have what we need before impact.” She paused, grinned, and corrected, “Touchdown.”
“Let's hope you were right the second time,” Kani said, throwing a quick spin into the side of the ship, firing thrusters wildly, trying to make it look as though the damage they'd sustained was worse than it was. The enemy commander had pulled his punches on the first attack, trying to disable the ship in order to capture it. They wouldn't be anything like as lucky the second time. Not that he intended there to be a second time.
The planet was filling the viewscreen now, Montevideo committed to the dive. Even if the enemy squadron wasn't waiting for them on the far side, there was no turning back. Up on the sensor display, the trajectory plot started to slew around, the fighters belatedly realizing what he was planning and attempting to counter it, but they'd left their course change far too late, putting themselves out of position for even the most desperate intercept.
“Atmosphere in three minutes,” Nguyen said.
“Decompressing all unoccupied areas,” Hammond added. “We're getting outgassing from the hull breaches. It's only going to get worse.” She glanced across at Kani, and said, “I've ramped up the pressure in the cargo compartments as high as I dare. Should help. A little.”
“I hope so,” Kani replied, every instinct calling on him to pull back from the dive before it was too late, that he was making a mistake that he was going to live to regret. If he was lucky. Overriding his fears, he dived for the planet, warning lights flowing down each side of the viewscreen to alert him to the danger he was in, text flashing on his console as he worked one override after another to assure the computer that he was serious about what he had in mind, that he knew what he was doing and could not be dissuaded.
“Signal from Sinaloa,” Montgomery added. “They're ready to accept escape pods, offer safe passage for us and a fair trial if we surrender now.” He paused, then said, “They're panicking. I think they're beginning to wonder if they ought to have accepted our cover story.”
“Let them keep thinking that awhile,” Kani replied, his eyes locked on hi
s controls, hands not moving an inch from the thrusters. He pulled up the nose as best he good, attempting to guide Montevideo into something at least approximating a re-entry attitude, and waited for the fireworks to begin. Lights danced on, warning of pressure outside, and the already battered hull began to buckle under the unaccustomed strain, plating never meant to withstand atmosphere failing to adapt to the rapidly changing environment.
Still the engines roared, a testament to the designers, Kani attempting to hold some sort of control over the damaged ship. Flame rippled around the viewscreen as he struggled to keep Montevideo on trajectory, the lower hull melted away in the first second, only the stored cargo, a million heavy slabs of ore, holding the ship together. He was fighting a battle with gravity and physics itself, one he knew he could not win. He didn't have to. He only had to postpone defeat for a little while. The ship lurched to the side, the center of gravity unpredictably changing as the outer hull collapsed, the computer struggling to compensate for the rapid changes, even with the influence of Kani at the controls.
Beneath them, the ocean rolled past, Kani using the last vestiges of control to bring the ship towards his target, the beacon a hundred miles ahead. He tried to picture Montevideo in her final dive, a glowing mass of metal leaving a fiery trail behind her, an asteroid being guided towards a target, everyone on the surface looking up to watch the death throes of a once-proud ship. Using the last of the thrusters, he span the ship around, the mighty engines burning to slow her, bring her down as gently as possible into the rolling waves below.
“Thirty thousand feet, descending fast!” Nguyen said.
“Gravity field to maximum!” Kani yelled, and he felt his stomach churn as Hammond manipulated the artificial gravity controls, trying to give them as much protection as she could. The ringing of alarms was a constant background whine, new ones sounding faster than Hammond shut them down, all the panels a mass of winking red lights as the computers reported total disaster.
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