To his right, Lieutenant Delaine hunched over, maybe she didn’t want to empty her stomach on the deck.
“Don’t worry, those fighters aren’t built for orbital flight. We’re safe for the time being—now it’s your show. We have about six hours before the local navy arrives. I see a patrol destroyer on a vector to intercept us.”
She finally looked up, brushing her dirty-blond hair from her eyes. Those blue eyes could pierce a soul. He looked away quickly hoping she didn’t notice his lengthy stare.
“Head for these coordinates,” she said.
He looked down at the new set of coordinates she transferred to his console. “There’s nothing out there.”
“There’s something out there, a ship.”
“What kind of ship?” His interest peaked.
“You’ll find out when the time comes, Commander.”
He didn’t want another argument. “Right, setting course now and engaging.” He unstrapped his harness. “I’m going down to check on the others.”
He slid down the ladder, scraping his elbows all the way. Next time he’d just take it one rung at a time.
“How’s our patient, Dr. Vee?”
The XO shook his head. “Not good. Two of those slugs hit him in the back and he’s lost a lot of blood. I’ve stopped the bleeding, but we need a transfusion kit to boost him.”
Besides the distant destroyer, there were no nearby threats. Delaine could step away from the flight deck. “Lieutenant Delaine, get down here now.”
To her credit, she came immediately without a hint of protest.
“He needs a transfusion, get a medkit.”
She trotted off and returned with the kit, taking out a med-scanner.
“Forget the scanner he’s A- negative. As am I. Vee, hook us up.”
Alvarez hooked him up to the transfusion kit, followed by Lee.
The tough fighter had turned a pale shade. All the swag had drained from his features and he looked like death. Two holes in his back.
Aaron knelt and whispered into the fighter’s ear.
“Fight, Lee, Fight.”
****
Aaron sipped on his favorite carbonated beverage, washing down a gourmet meal of heated meat patties. Clearly, someone stocked infantry rations aboard Star Runner. When one was hungry enough even infantry rations could taste like a five-star meal.
Lee was stable and resting and Vee had joined them on the flight deck.
“He’s going to need surgery to repair the internal damage. The arm well . . . I suppose the USSF will give him the best one,” Alvarez said.
Lieutenant Delaine’s opinion differed. “How about the best bionic arm, designed for mobile infantry? Those arms are rated to lift approximately one ton. They’re coated with tough ceramics yet still largely retain the mobility and flexibility of a real limb. He could even switch it out to a weaponized arm . . .” Her voice trailed off when she saw the look Alvarez was giving her.
“You think he’s some type of ‘war machine’ for you to tinker with as you please! He’s a human being, not an android!”
“Would you rather give him a hook then?” she queried.
The XO lost it. The most levelheaded man Aaron ever knew.
In a fit of rage the ops officer lunged over at Delaine, his eyes bulged and he snarled like a feral beast. Aaron launched himself and managed to grip a scruff of Alvarez’s shirt and pull him back and down into his seat. “Vee, damn it man, what’s got into you?”
The XO looked at him as though he didn’t know him.
“Where did you find this insensitive, heartless—”
Aaron shook his friend. “Vee! As you were damnit!” He released him and turned to Lieutenant Delaine.
She’d stepped back a few paces. Wise choice. But more likely, she didn’t want to hurt the XO. Since no doubt she was an unarmed combat expert.
Aaron nodded to her former seat. “Sit.”
She stiffened at first, then complied.
He looked back at Alvarez. “Lee will be taken care of. The important part is—he’s alive. He didn’t lose his head. Whatever arm he wants or gets, is irrelevant. He’ll get one. If you have nothing sensible to contribute, sit and listen. Before we discuss what happened planet side, we need to discuss our immediate situation.”
Aaron shook his head. What happened down there that could compromise Vee’s rock solid composure? He made a point of it to ask him later.
Alvarez stood and left the flight deck.
Aaron didn’t bother to stop him. Instead, he spoke to Delaine. “We’re three hours from those coordinates. Initially, I plotted the destroyer to intercept us in six hours. But with the brilliant use of the gravity well of the sixth outer planet, it’s accelerated to .6 c, the top speed for that obsolete Raptor-class destroyer. Time to intercept is down to three hours. With emergency deceleration, it can reach our destination—without overshooting its weapons range—fifteen minutes after us. Despite being obsolete in modern space navy terms, it’ll shred us. Right now, however, I need the specs on the ship waiting at our rendezvous point.”
“That’s classified beyond your level, Commander.”
You need a classified slap upside your head.
Instead, he said. “We are officially operating, unofficially, Lieutenant.” There was that confusing thought again. “There’s nothing classified from outlaws. Give me the run down on that ship now. And send the file to my personnel device.”
She bit her lip, and then she tapped a few commands on her personnel device and flicked it over to his. “It’s a third generation prototype deep space capable stealth vessel,” she finally said. “Built for covert assault and reconnaissance missions by United Fleet Advanced Starship Research and Design Division. Designated Valkyrie-class. Larger than a frigate such as Trident but smaller than a cruiser. Max emergency sub-light speed, sustainable for only six hours is .998 c. Cruising in-system speed of .7 c. Max warp speed two thousand c. Triple redundant interlocking thrusters for enhanced combat maneuvers.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. Advanced didn’t quite do it justice. “Armaments and defenses?”
“Heavily armored with the latest, thinnest, lightest, but toughest ceramic composite. Enhanced further by reflective polarized field generators, apparently, significantly stronger than the current absorptive type. Main railgun batteries situated port and starboard, with turreted mark-twelve micro-railguns fore, rear, dorsal and ventral. A pair of forward launching anti-capital ship torpedo tubes, sixth-generation close-in weapons system (CIWS) and point defense cannons. Two industrial-sized fabricators for munition and spare part replenishment. And . . .” her voice trailed off suddenly as though she were about to say something she shouldn’t.
Clearly, she knew far more about starships than she let on, or she was adept at reciting things. “Yes? And what?”
“I’m sorry, Commander,” she shook her head. She indeed sounded sincere. “The remaining technologies are beyond classification. Few people know about them besides the designers and the engineers themselves, who the Fleet sequestered to design the ship over the past ten years. Even I do not know the location of the facility or shipyard. What I’ve told you so far regarding its capabilities are advanced versions of starship systems you are already familiar with. The remaining technologies are beyond even my knowledge. The Supreme Commander ordered that those systems remain locked out and that I was not even to discuss the theory. I know this could be a hindrance under certain circumstances.”
Those last words boiled his blood. A hindrance under certain circumstances.
“A hindrance, Lieutenant? If we engage in battle with an untested starship, without knowing the full range of its capabilities, it might be more than just a hindrance. More like a colossal failure of epic proportions.”
“I understand, sir, but I cannot change what it is. I didn’t build the ship. I merely oversaw logistical requirements of the project.”
“I can’t believe the Supreme Commander would instr
uct you in such a way regarding this.”
“You think . . . you think I’m lying,” she sounded genuinely hurt.
Not lying, but she was definitely hiding something. The best lies always included parts of the truth. For some reason, Shepherd nor Lieutenant Delaine wanted him to know the full truth about this ship or its capabilities. “No, Lieutenant. I’m sorry . . . let me rephrase.” He paused. “I believe you. It’s more that I can’t believe he would give such an order. Nor can I think of any reason or situation where such an order would make sense. It would be like giving me a new sidearm, just before a ground action yet not telling me about its capabilities and not giving me a reason why you won’t either.”
“Sir, I am in total agreement with you,” Delaine said. “I therefore am of the opinion SC Shepherd, gave that order because either the systems don’t work as designed, or he didn’t expect we would need them. This is a covert mission after all. The ship has no markings and there’s no record of it in any Fleet database.”
“It’s highly peculiar,” Aaron said, “and troubling, but it is what it is. Given you don’t know the functions of those systems, then I don’t believe you could even be aware of a situation where those systems might aid us.”
She nodded her agreement. “Again, I am sorry, sir.” She seemed relieved he let her off the hook so easily.
He nodded. But he was going to find out those secrets some other way. He was beginning to appreciate the nuances of her role as an Intelligence officer, just as she had deferred to him during their excursion planet side and their course of action now.
“One other thing,” he said, glancing at his personnel device and noticing the dimensions and mass of the ship. “That’s a lot of firepower jammed into such a small package. How extensively were the new technologies and the ship itself tested?"
“I am not certain. I know it underwent rigorous trials, to stress the design. No major design flaws manifested—officially, that is. But those tests completed six months ago and the project languished until . . .”
Another half-truth, he was certain it didn’t languish and she wasn’t very good at filling in the blanks. “Lieutenant, it's rather annoying how you stop right when you get to the good part.”
“Sorry, Commander. Until Supreme Commander Shepherd gave orders to ready the ship for our use. I don’t believe that many—if any—of the innovations were approved for inclusion in any new starships currently on the drawing boards. Nor do I believe any of the advanced technology could simply be retrofitted to current ship designs. In the end, the ship might just be a test bed for various new technologies. If there are any further alterations, they will be done before we build the next generation of Fleet ships using the technology.”
“At least she’ll have the distinction of being the only kind of her class.”
“It would seem so, Commander,” she said.
“You seem to know a lot about the ship and USSF plans regarding future ship construction.”
She shrugged. “I was the Supreme Commander’s adjutant. He trusted me to personally handle many aspects related to the logistics of this project. And a great many other projects.”
“Noted.” He scrolled the file on his personnel device. “When we get near, we’re going to trigger the hangar bay door remotely. We need to get inside quickly, take control, and burn for the heliopause. I’m assuming at least some aspect of the stealth system works as designed, otherwise it would be visible to our sensors by now. But at least we know it’s there. That destroyer doesn’t.”
“I defer to your judgment on the plan, Commander,” she said, rising from her seat.
“Oh, just two small issues. First, are there any major differences from the control mechanism of the prototype and current United Fleet starships?”
“As far as I recall, Commander, the interfaces and controls are all familiar to anyone who’s been trained on starship systems. I don’t recall the implementation of any new control methods.”
He still had to ask, just in case they’d come up with some classified control scheme beyond their understanding. Starships were largely automated anyhow, and they didn’t need hundreds of crew to maintain them. Unlike previous generations.
“Second, what’s she called?”
Her face twisted. “Called, Commander?”
“Her designation, Lieutenant.”
She shrugged. “It never had any, only a reference. Project XN-2017.”
XN-2017. The first thing the ship needed was a name. Everyone knows that besides a good crew a ship needs a good name.
“Phoenix,” he said.
“Phoenix?” she raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, like the bird that rose out—”
“I’m familiar with the tale, Commander. You’re in command.”
United Fleet Ship Phoenix.
“Good then, our window grants us fifteen minutes to dock before the destroyer intercepts. I’m going to study up on these ship specs further. Call me if anything changes.”
“Might I suggest you change, Commander. Your tunic is bloodied.”
He hadn’t realized. He unclasped the front and while pulling it off, his back protested the movement. He tried to stifle the gasp, but it escaped his lips. He needed stronger painkillers. The neglected injury from the projectile strike made itself known in full fury.
Delaine looked over at him from her console, she looked almost concerned.
“Commander, what happened? Did you get hit down there?” she asked.
“It’s nothing. I took a projectile in the armor when I—”
She moved toward him. “Arms up, slowly, let me see.”
When he protested, she held up a single finger. “Arms—now.”
He raised his hands slowly, biting down the urge to grimace against the pain. She pulled the tunic over his head, unclasped the body armor and raised his undershirt.
“There’s severe bruising back here.” She reached underneath the control station and pulled out an emergency aid kit. She touched a spot near his ribs on his back. He flinched—whether from pain or her touch he wasn’t sure. “Shallow breathing, pain in your ribs, they’re badly bruised. I’m going to rub this cold fused gel into the affected area. It will react and release a cold treatment to the area every twenty minutes.”
He started to squirm when she touched him.
“Hold still, Commander,” her voice had a light tone, was she holding in laughter? She must enjoy making him squirm.
She rubbed in the gel and placed a reaction bandage over it. “There, all done. That wasn’t so bad was it?”
He kept his head straight. “Ah, no. Thank you. I’m already feeling relief. You have soft hands.”
She rounded in front of him, her face twisted into a mix of confusion and amusement. “Well I hope so . . . I’m not a construction engineer!”
“I mean . . . forget it. Thanks—Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome, Commander.”
He nodded to her. “We’ll meet back on the flight deck to discuss the events planet side. Fifteen minutes.”
As he made his way down the ladder to the crew deck, he was sure she was holding back a giggle. He’d really made a fool of himself. An attractive woman rubbing his back turned him to putty. Maybe she’d just caught him off guard by suddenly turning into a sensitive and caring person. Without all the spy-front in the way.
That was definitely it.
Chapter 12 – Spy Games
Star Runner
Nearing Outer System—Rigel
Aaron shuffled through the storage compartment rummaging for his mission gear.
He slipped on a simple pair of slacks, a close fitting shirt—which didn’t restrict circulation—and a simple smooth leather jacket. Each color matching the void outside the ship.
He rummaged some more and finally laid hands on what he was looking for. After glancing at it briefly, he slipped the paper photo into his breast pocket.
He never liked the gym or any form of heavy lif
ting. A medium frame was easy to maintain and provided less mass for an enemy to hit. Every time he saw huge starship marines, he shook his head. Marines loved to lift heavy and get big and it made them slow and easy targets. In a firefight, speed was life—shoot and move.
Raw strength and large muscles gave untrained people confidence when fists started flying. Lee did him a big favor during the past two years on deep space patrol—the expert fighter trained him in mixed martial art techniques. Everything from Judo to Jujitsu and Boxing to Taekwondo. The kid was a champion martial artist across the core worlds.
The USSF granted the “Rigellian Stallion”—as he’d come to be known—special leave for one month each year to compete in the United Star Systems Interstellar Championship. He missed his tactical officer’s deadpan humor when he was gone. A high-speed courier collected Lee from the frontier and returned him. He represented the Fleet and the Fleet was proud of him. They felt it bolstered Fleet recruitment and image. Which admittedly it did, Lee created a stir wherever he went.
The Rigellian Stallion. Lee would get the best damn arm the Fleet could build.
His personnel device beeped. It was time to head back up to the flight deck. He shut the storage compartment, slipped a pulse pistol behind his back inside his waist and exited the crew deck. The ladder to the flight deck was just outside. He climbed each rung slowly, hoping Vee had calmed enough to be himself again.
Lieutenant Delaine sat to the left side of the flight deck and the XO sat all the way to the right. Aaron took the only seat left—the middle. The other seats were positioned slightly behind as the control station swept in a curve in front of each of them, a good place to watch them both.
“Vee, how’s that leg feeling now?”
Alvarez shrugged, just a blank stare. “It’s fine.”
“Right . . . tell us what happened on the surface.”
Alvarez took in a deep breath. “We arrived on Rigel a day ahead of schedule. Lee felt claustrophobic in our safe room. I managed to keep him inside for the entire day by agreeing to get a drink in the early morning hours. We walked for a while, found a few bars and had a few drinks. We played some old silly game with circular objects on a table which, by the way, Lee is extremely proficient at. Then we left.”
Border Worlds (United Star Systems Book 1) Page 9