Dreaming of Atmosphere

by Jim C. Wilson

  “Downside is that if we do respond this way, they’ll figure we’re going to do the same each time and wear us down. Can’t afford to lose too much acceleration. They’ve already gained…”

  1 minute 12 seconds.

  “Thank you, Tac.”

  “What else can we do?” asked Zoe.

  I was silent for a few moments, thinking. “Not much. Are optics picking up any distinguishing features of the rounds? Any other sensors able to spot anything?”

  “The round labelled bravo is emitting more energy in the x-ray bandwidth, but otherwise they appear identical.” reported Fel.

  “Tac, will our point defence weapons be able to damage the rounds as they get closer?”

  Negative. Even if they could, they would be close enough to detonate and release their payloads regardless.

  “I was thinking the same, but at least now we know. Zoe, bring us to port red one five and north one five degrees. Let’s see if the shells have guidance.”

  Zoe turned the ship and we headed in the direction I’d asked. Although the shells gained their velocity from the rail gun that fired them, each shell could also house a rudimentary guidance system that could perform adjustments to their course. As most of the volume and mass was reserved for the warheads, these guidance systems couldn’t have a lot of power. These weapons were designed to be fired upon larger vessels, after all, not relatively small scale transports such as the Dreaming of Atmosphere. It was probably the only advantage we had.

  “One of the rounds continuing on original course, the rest are turning to follow.” reported Fel.

  “Straighten us our on original course, Zoe.”

  “Roger, levelling out.”

  “One down, three to go.” I could see Zoe’s hands were shaking and she was moving head about to look at the various screens around her using frantic motions. I leaned over and put my hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing great, Zoe, just relax.”

  She nodded and leaned back into the seat a little, taking deep breaths.

  “Weapons release detected.” came Fel, “Four more rounds on the way.”

  I could hear Zoe suck in her breath and let it out in a shudder. I was starting to worry about her. If she froze up at a crucial moment, it could spell disaster for us all. What would Maxine do, I began to think. Would she step in and take over? Would that undermine the crew’s confidence? No, she would support them, reinforce their belief in themselves.

  “We have plenty of time, no cause for concern just yet. Zoe, can you read me out the trajectory vectors for those new rounds, please?”

  “Ah…rounds echo, foxtrot and golf are on direct intercept. Round hotel is four degrees to starboard of the rest.”

  “Great work, Zoe. Take us to port on red one zero, south one zero degrees, tell me if they adjust their vectors.”

  “Roger, red one zero, south one zero…they’re all turning.”

  “Okay, smooth flying. Level us out again, let’s get some readings on those new ones. Fel?”

  “Scanning. Foxtrot appears to have the same x-ray signature that bravo has. Hotel is very hard to track, it’s blending in the background radiation and our ion wake”

  “Already? It’s still sixty eight minutes away.”

  “I have a theory there.”

  As do I.

  “Fel, hit me with yours first, Tac can confirm or refute.”

  “The two x-ray heavy ones are nukes. They’ll go off and provide a distraction, the real threat is hotel.”

  I concur. Hotel is the real threat. I have pulsed several light beams at hotel and deduced that it is slightly heavier than the other projectiles. It is also several microns larger in size.

  An idea hit me then. “It’s a stealth boarding pod. The nukes will blind us when they go off, the pod will start its own propulsion just as they go off.”

  “Won’t that kill whoever is in there?”

  “They’ll be synthetics. High gee drop pod, penetration boarding. They’ll punch right through our armour and anything left standing inside will pour out. It’s what I’d do, if I was that captain. Make one last grab for the ju…the package.”

  Acting Captain Donovan is correct. His scenario is highly probable. It stands to reason that the remaining contacts are merely kinetic rounds to act as decoys.

  “So, what do we do?” asked Zoe.

  “Nothing.”

  “What?”

  “We still have over an hour before we have to do anything. We might as well relax.”

  “But…”

  “The hardest thing to get used to in space combat is the distances that everything takes place at.” explained Fel.

  “We form a plan, and then we just have to wait.” I said.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We just move two kilometres…port, this time. When they’re ten seconds away we’ll provide lateral thrust and strafe to port two kilometres, avoiding the blasts and soaking up the gamma’s from the nukes.”

  “And the boarding pod?”

  “We’ll probably have to fight that one off. You two going to be okay up here? I’m going to get Art, Hergo and Denno to suit up.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  She was quiet, looking straight ahead. “What if there’s another warhead in among those others?”

  “Then it will probably wipe out the boarding pod before it has a chance to hit us. Would be a waste of an opportunity. I’m pretty sure there won’t be one.”

  “How sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “How pretty sure?”

  Acting Pilot Ward, the Acting Captain has devised the most tactically logical scenario. Be assured that our response will be appropriate to the incoming threat.

  “I wish I had your confidence, Tac. I’m scared out of my wits.” she admitted.

  “You’re doing great, Zoe. Better than great. Even Crege would be doing what you’re doing right now.” I said.

  “I’m not doing anything!”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll look out for her, Seth.” said Fel.

  “All right, be safe you two.” I got up to leave, giving Zoe a squeeze on the shoulder and nodding to Fel. I headed aft and down to Deck 2. The two Argen were at their station in the mess deck, their damage control tool kits resting at their feet. Artemis would be in the med lab, filling in for Zoe as medic.

  “Let’s get to the armoury. We’re expecting boarders in one hour. Meet you there, I’ll grab Art.” The two got up and headed down the ladder well. In the med lab I found Crege and Art mid discussion.

  “…once got shot in the foot. Hurt like a bitch and I limped for nearly a year.” Artemis was saying.

  “That’s nothing. Lost whole foot several years ago. This one is re-grow. Cost whole pay. Kicked at wrong time, enemy blade take foot. Fair trade, killed him with his own sword after.”

  “Artemis, need you outfitted to repel boarders. They’re going to try and grab the package one more time. Armoury, now.”

  Crege made to stand but I held my hand up at him.

  “Uh, uh. You’re staying put. Doctor’s orders. My orders too.”

  “Ertak, et ka kurdo, burbak!”

  “Don’t give me that. You’re a liability at the moment. You can barely stand. Don’t worry, if they get in here you have my permission to hit them with your crutches.”

  “You insult me, kitrak. Warrior can still hold gun. Still fight.” I considered his words carefully. Once again, I thought back to how Maxine would handle this. Would she risk injuring Crege even further to protect a valuable choke point? On the other hand, would she tell him to stay put, to hell with his bruised ego?

  “Sorry, buddy. I need you to get better. The galab that swims in its own blood cannot smell its prey.”

  “Hrm. Warrior without a brain in not warrior, he is fedang. You are right, kitrak.”

  “You call Maxine kitrak. I never knew what it means. Is it captain?”

  “No.
Kitrak is similar to leader, yes, all kitrak lead. But not all leaders are kitrak. Not all captains are kitrak. What is human word? Admire? Respect? Kitrak is all these things.”

  “Huh, you never called me kitrak before.”

  “Haha, that because you weren’t kitrak.”

  “And now I am?”

  “Careful. Humans only take so much praise before head explodes. Go. Kak is right. Crege will rest.”

  I nodded to him and left, heading back to the mess deck and up to the command deck. I ran aft and hit my cabin, grabbing my ablative coat from its hook and my E2S. I strapped on my PX-2 just to be sure. I was down to two batteries, one for each. I’d have to get more from the armoury. I left the cabin and went down two decks to the forward cargo hold and our makeshift armoury. Already Artemis was putting on the exo-rig again. I grabbed two more batteries and a sword. The two Argen were helping each other don the infantry vests, and had personal shield generators set aside.

  “You two going with the Thudguns again?” I asked.

  “Yes. Good weapon.” said Denno.

  Artemis chuckled.

  “What’s so funny, Art?” I asked.

  “They like them because they can’t aim.”

  “We’re miners, woman. Not soldiers.” said Hergo.

  “They play to their strengths and build on their weaknesses. It’s a sound tactic.” I said.

  “Well, just make sure they don’t stand behind me.”

  “Don’t worry, woman, I wouldn’t dream of shooting you in the back.” said the Argen.

  For some reason, that actually caused Artemis to shut up for once. A strange look came over her face for a split second, and then it was gone. Was I imagining seeing remorse on her features? On Artemis?

  First salvo of projectiles are 30 minutes from convergence, Acting Captain Donovan.

  Thank you, Tac. Keep me posted.

  The way I figured it, the first salvo will be just a distraction as well. The nuke will go off, we’ll dodge the kinetic rocks, and then think the second salvo will be the same. That has to be the enemy captain’s plan. If I was wrong, we could be missing a vital clue to avoiding a deadly mistake. I began to have doubts. What were we missing?

  A gauntlet was shoved into my stomach.

  “Here, loverboy, help me put the last of this rig on. You’re day dreaming.” Artemis handed me the last few pieces of the rig. She still have her gloves and the chest plate to put on, then the external power pack. I pulled on her gauntlets and connected them to the power loom that ran down the arms to the back of the rig. When I was done, I started to bolt the armoured chest plate on. As I was working, Art caught my attention and briefly, our eyes met. She had the weirdest look on her face.

  “I’m not the enemy, Seth. I’m sorry about Eric.”

  I didn’t say anything, I just kept working. Slip nut over bolt, lefty-loosey, righty-tighty.

  “I wish I could tell you everything. You deserve to know.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I stopped and looked at her again. She looked back at me, and looked about to say something then changed her mind. She cast her eyes down. I finished tightening up the last few bolts and then slapped the power pack onto the rear of the exo-rig. The power-on light turned green and she flexed her arms. She gave me a nod and walked up to the sword rack to grab a blade.

  “You’re a little light on the armour this time.” she said, pulling one of the axes we’d collected from the Frikk out. She gave it an experimental twirl.

  “I want mobility. The M4 is too heavy for that.”

  “Going to use your Spatial Translation?”

  “Something like that. And Shield.”

  “Have you worked out how the nanites do it?”

  “The teleport? Yeah, they slide me along a string. I’m not really teleporting, I’m just moving through a different dimension temporarily.”

  “Like when we shift through a Jump Gate?”

  “Similar, yeah.”

  “It’s strange to watch.”

  “How does it look?”

  “It’s hard to describe. You don’t just disappear and then reappear at the new spot, you just sort of are there. Like you were always there to start with. It disorients the hell out of whoever you are fighting.”

  “It disorients the hell out of me.”

  “Do you hit harder?”

  “Not really, but if someone’s standing where my blade is they end up with it in their guts. I get air movement around me briefly, although I suspect it’s actually because the air is sucked in with me and then added to the new spot, pushing air away.”

  I looked around the armoury, and traded my E2S for one of the energy carbines that the Frikk were kind enough to leave for us when they all died. They were not Frikk manufactured, but were solid Corporate weapons. Given to them as payment, no doubt. The Frikk were often mercenaries, and pirates, known for their brutality and warlike nature. If they weren’t given legal work as mercs and bounty hunters they tended to veer towards lives of crime. They were always like this, but they were also loyal. They rarely betrayed those they worked for, and usually honoured their agreements. They had a sort of warrior’s code, much like many Garz’a, only their code stems from a ‘might makes right’ attitude rather than a sense of duty.

  Possibly the strangest quirk of the Frikk was that they rarely held grudges. You could kill most of a merc unit and then after the job hire them yourselves. They didn’t see being killed in combat as a slight against the fallen, rather it’s just a part of life. I sort of respected that in them. Made me feel better about killing a bunch of them too.

  That thought made me pause. Was that just me talking, or was it some overflow of the nano-proliferation implant? I’d never been so nonchalant about killing living beings before, regardless if they were trying to kill us first. Was I becoming bloodthirsty? Or was I simply becoming pragmatic about killing? What was worse? Just one more topic to bring up with Zoe during our next session, I suppose.

  I was glad it would be synthetics we would face now. I didn’t like where my head was at with killing living beings. There’d been too much death on board the Dreaming for my liking. Too much blood had seeped between the deck plates. I was mentally drained, all of a sudden. With the depression came a physical exhaustion that robbed me of much needed vitality. I’d felt this sensation before. It came during campaigns in the Star Marines when you found out you’d be back on the line once more, particularly after a heavy fight the day before. It was akin to resignation, that you could be about to end it all in a painful death, or become crippled for life. You became detached from those around you, they were just people who were about to die as well, no sense associating yourself with the pain of losing friends.

  I could see the others looking at me. I tried to offer a smile but couldn’t stomach it right then. There was a despair in the faces of the Argen, they were seeing their leader starting to crumble before them. Art looked me in the face and walked over to me, her heavy boots making a dull thud on the deck. She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close enough to whisper into my ear.

  “Use your Repair paradigm. They need to see you pull it together.” she said.

  I nodded and called up the paradigm. My bloodstream flooded with nanites, converting fats and non-essential material into sugars, synthesising dopamine and adrenaline.

  “Whoa, Jesus.” I mumbled, stumbling against Art’s exo-rig.

  “Get it together.”

  “Right. I’m good. Thanks.” I gave her a nod and turned to the others, “We should be facing another stealth pod, like what we fought back in Argessi System. Standard compliment is around fifteen synthetics. Last time were simple assault droids, not much chop against seasoned fighters like Crege and I, but there’s no reason to believe they won’t use more advanced synthetics this time. They probably figure we’d only fall for this trick once, so this is the captain of the Xerxes’ only chance to recover the package, and with it his bonus pay, I bet.

 
; “Well, fuck him. No bonus today. Artemis and I will spearhead the counter offensive when they come. You two are on defensive fire patterns. That means you split up, flank the enemy and take targets of opportunity. If you can’t hit any enemy, hit their cover. Those Thudguns can offer a small amount of crowd control to our options so go hell for leather. If one gets through our attack, fall back and try to stop it getting away. We want them contained. They’ll head for the engine room to try and disable the ship, or the command module to kill everyone in there. Including my girl. So if that happens I’ll be very put out, understand?”

  They all had a chuckle.

  “They’ll be coming in on our starboard side, as we’ll be juking to port as the shells reach us, so we’ll use the next twenty minutes to get as much cover to the port side as we can. As soon as we’re hit, Fel will remotely seal all hatches and slow down any intruders enough for us to get to them. The cargo hold is probably the most likely place they’ll hit, so let’s start here. Any questions?”

  “What are the chances the boarding pod will be shot down by those synthetics we welded to the outer hull before?” asked Denno.

  “Slim to none. They’ll use nukes to blind our sensors right before the pod makes its approach. Our only advantage is that they think they’ll be catching us un-prepared. If we can get to the attachment point before they exit the pod, we’ll ambush them. Let them spill out a little and then hit them all at once with as many Thudgun blasts as we can. They won’t know what hit them. All right, we got twenty minutes. Let’s get these crates stacked!”

  My confidence was returning, and I hoped it was rubbing off on my men.

  “Don’t worry, loverboy, I’ll protect you.” said Artemis as she punched my shoulder.

  “And who’ll protect you?”

  “You will. You got my back, right?”

  I sighed and nodded. “I guess I do.”

  37.

  We had only a brief window to get ready. We stacked up cargo crates into overlapping cover, and ensured that there was no cover to be had on the starboard side of the hold. The mess deck was a different matter. The best we could hope for was to unbolt the tabletops and unsecure the stools. I got the Argen to haul a few crates up from the hold and we would use those for cover. Maxine had given me an earful last time we used the mess tables for cover. Crege and I had to spend a couple of hours repairing them after our tussle with the Spear of Orion back in the Argessi System.