The Velia was one of Gr'jot's two mystic starkeels and served as flagship. That sounded grander than the reality. Being commissioner also made Feliz Navidad a sort of commander-in-chief, a role he rarely played.
"We've got changes," Velia's part-time adjutant said. "It's not so clear in downhill, but I think our objective is moving ahead of schedule."
The ships were already red-lining entry into the troubled region. It had been many years since the old ships were pressed to maximum speed, a first for many part-time crewies. Their shallow course skirted the gravitationally disturbing, rocky chaos below. The MDHD fields nearly broke down numerous times.
Their launch was delayed before the commissioner twisted arms. Final arrangements for leaving the system were most people's concern. They had little incentive for honoring Gr'jot Auxiliary contracts and jumping into a crazy mission. His reluctant crew chief showed resentment for the orders with a stream of complaints the entire bridge heard.
"We've done what we can, Mr. Wilkrest," Feliz said. Clear detensor details weren't forthcoming within manifold space. "The physics are limiting us."
At the front of the bridge, Aristahl stared pensively into the large display of colorful space surrounding the dark center into which they were being pushed. He had hardly moved, hands clasped behind his back. Though a hard man to read, Feliz knew the delays displeased him.
"Give them another optimization, Barrister," Aristahl said, still facing forward.
"A couple of their ships may field break if I bring us in any faster or shallower," the AI said quietly.
"Better fewer ships in time to make a difference than more when nothing can be done."
The new course crossed the bridge displays, and the crew chief grimaced. "We can't do that," he protested, continuing with a litany of partially legitimate reasons.
The commissioner just listened. He knew of no easy way out of this. "Mr. Wilkrest, I'm afraid—"
Aristahl turned to face the two men, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Two of these ships can go faster."
"I'm telling you, Feliz," the crew chief said. The commissioner adopted a rarely used bearing which said the familiarity was inappropriate for the moment. "I mean commissioner," the chief continued, "we're running at max."
Apparently cushy auxiliary detail had softened the crews. Rock smashing wasn't stressful, and just flying out to intercept pirates turned them away without a shot. Feliz knew he was a poor excuse for a military leader, letting drills slip and easing enforcement of monthly service. As long as a couple of ships could go out and intercept rocks, he rarely initiated any involvement. Now he was paying the price.
"Chief, we either open these fields or Gr'jot goes to ghost. Push the mystic starkeels."
The chief was conflicted and reluctant, but he ordered more reactor output pumped into the Velia and her mystic sister's starkeel. Both vessels pushed past dusty safety levels, red lines put in place to equalize mixed scientum and mystic fleets. Mystic starkeels had been pushed further during the war.
But Feliz suspected it would still not be enough. The old man stood like a ramrod straight statue, silhouetted in the myriad colors. He knew the status of everything without VADs. The commissioner was amazed and frightened by a man who so casually breached security or initiated that crazy ruckus at the watering hole.
Imprimaturs were known to be strange, but this one took the biscuit. Still, the old man's fantastical theory on the fields was proving true. Sparse detensor readings showed Aristahl's team had penetrated two "haunted" layers he alone was able to define. The gravitational anomalies that made the system undesirable were beyond even his predictive abilities though, and the team pushed into the final layer ahead of schedule.
Foolhardy. He didn't envy whoever it was. Undoubtedly they would face a terrifying bombardment if it were anything like past incidents. Why did they move early? What was wrong out there? An alarm chime interrupted the commissioner's ruminations.
"One of the javs we left behind was just forced off the hill!" the crew chief said.
Ships always steered well short of the field break threshold, because being forced out had unpredictable results.
A blip dropped off the local detensor as one emerged on the long-range display. Light hours above the system, something the mass of a javelin popped out of manifold space.
"Drak," Feliz said.
"I'm sorry about that," Aristahl said. "That's why I requested only the mystic starkeels."
The crew chief wanted safety in numbers. That decision turned out to be costly. Who knew the status of the crew up there?
The chief reddened. "Look, old man, we don't get paid enough for this." He stood, poised to give orders.
"Sit down chief!" Feliz shouted.
The crew chief turned on him. "You may be commissioner—"
They both stopped when the old man interrupted. "We need to go faster."
The bridge, also crewed by two other part-time spacers and one conscripted maintenance bot, fell into silence. Everyone exchanged glances, even the bot. The crew chief's eyes blinked unevenly. His face contorted. Feliz thought he might be trying to mouth the word faster.
The old man did not wait. Eying the crew chief, he reached back to the active wall. Shimmering lines emanated out from where his fingers touched, covering it completely. Feliz believed the Velia was being touched down to her keel. They lurched with the inertia of sudden acceleration despite grav weaves. The commissioner's heart beat faster. He turned to the chief, who was on the verge of apoplexy.
With the forward display filled with the strange energetic spiderweb, Feliz ordered the bridge's central tactical VAD to life. The Velia was leaving behind even its mystic starkeeled sister. Its marker raced closely above the chaotic gravitational sea. He didn't need to be a physicist to know ships weren't supposed to risk such things in downhill. Aristahl's eyes closed, and the ship's path inched even nearer to the rocky plain, hugging the contours just beyond an invisible gravitational threshold.
Part of the display showed the penetration team now halfway through the final layer, but their speed was slowing.
The crew chief got a hold of himself, though not the best part. He flexed fists and moved forward ominously. The old man's eyes opened, but they attended something far away. His focus returned to see the crew chief's approach. One sleeve of Aristahl's ancient styled coat rolled back, revealing an ornate bracer. At the same time a flock of objects flew out of his bag, swirling around him like a protective tornado. Feliz saw strange espies, bird-like things and, oh God, a seeker drone. High-yield explosive grenades were a last resort inside a spaceship, even for pirates if they wanted to take it intact.
The bridge crew and maintenance bot bolted for the exit, which refused to open.
"Chief! For the love of Christmas, stop!" the commissioner yelled.
The chief pushed himself forward. The very air of the bridge became charged. Anyone with hair found it standing on edge, and the bot exuded sparks. The chief forced another half step forward. Hundreds of thin strands of current arced out from the eclectic tornado, connecting it to the chief. His eyes grew wide in fear, and his body trembled, paralyzed.
The old man closed his eyes, and the ship lurched again. Feliz, a desk administrator, wasn't used to this kind of thing. He recovered enough to examine the penetration team's progress, which, unsurprisingly, had slowed even more. A quick projection showed they would fail.
The commissioner knew with sudden clarity that whoever was trying to get through that layer had to succeed or Gr'jot was finished. All of it.
The commissioner shouted to the crew. "Get back to your stations. Have the other mystic starkeel match our course with a five percent safety buffer."
The crew chief glared contemptuously at Feliz. "We're loaded and ready to leave, and you want to throw it away because of this radiated old man?" He raised his voice to the conflicted crew. "Turn us around."
The crew, slow to listen before now, returned to their stations.
The commissioner found himself locked out of command systems, and the central VAD faded out.
Feliz bunched his fists. "Chief, you are relieved!"
The bulky crew chief edged away from the old man, and the thin tendrils of current fell away. Face contorted with disdain, his mobility returned, and the chief grabbed the commissioner's arm, yanking him out of the command chair. The chief was a strong man who worked with his hands.
"Keep going, boys," the chief stated. He held the commissioner with an iron grasp.
A tiny metal bird flitted onto the back of the chief's clutching hand, and a stun floater touched his forehead. The Commissioner recognized it and tried vainly to pull free. It was unwise to touch someone about to get zapped. Both men stared at each other for an instant. The stun floater pinged quietly. The chief's eyes rolled back as a wash of current moved down his body. Feliz braced for a shock that never came. The bird on his assailant's hand glowed briefly then flew back with the stun floater to rejoin the tornado. The chief was unconscious on his feet before crumpling.
The commissioner tried to reactivate the central VAD, then pounded on the command chair, realizing he was still locked out. He turned to the human crew, who glared back at him rebelliously. Then they exchanged indecisive glances with each other as if they didn't know what to do next.
Suddenly, all the bridge stations except command went dark. The central VAD came to life, as did numerous other displays.
"Gentlemen," Barrister said, "Commissioner Navidad is legally empowered to relieve you under extraordinary circumstances according to Gr'jot bylaws. I have asked the ship's AI to refuse your illegal inputs."
A couple of the small metal birds flitted around the crew. They shrunk back. Even the maintenance bot was wary. The rebellious glares shriveled away, and they turned back to their dark consoles.
"Shall I relay your order to the other mystic starkeel, Commissioner?" Barrister asked.
Feliz quickly ascertained the new lay of the land. "Yes, please."
The eclectic tornado of flying objects flew back into Aristahl's bag. The ship made a subtle dive approaching the asteroids. The bumping didn't feel very subtle on the commissioner's stomach. The old man, with eyes shut tight, wasn't faring well.
The ship bucked, and the still conscious crew looked about in concern. On the active wall, the energetic spiderweb retreated into the old man's hand. The display filled with white streaks, and in a lurch the Velia left manifold space.
Aristahl staggered back to the executive station chair and collapsed into it. His skin was pale, his breathing labored. He closed his eyes.
"Commissioner," he said, "Barrister knows what to do."
"Proceed." The commissioner was concerned for the old man. Nothing about this imprimatur was ordinary.
The bridge display showed debris-filled space. The ship was fast approaching a dense asteroid region. The detensor blossomed with sharp readings. The tactical VAD showed the penetration team zigzagging desperately. It did more dodging and less penetrating by the second.
Some asteroids near the team moved crazily even by Gr'jot standards. They closed before winking out of existence. Each apparently destroyed itself, creating a shot. Complex calculations and trajectories filled the active walls. The old man's AI was doing some serious number crunching. Numerous lines on the VAD spawned from their position, streaking into space near the penetration team.
The bridge consoles came alive. Reports came in from all key departments.
"We're good to go here."
"I've got these babies humming."
The lighting changed to muted colors. The ship was going to war, but with whom? Or what? Only the old man knew.
"What's the delay, Barrister?" Aristahl opened his eyes. His voice was tired.
Trajectory projections danced, tubes of light snaking their way through a maelstrom of ever-changing rock. It was a long shot to the penetration team, made more difficult by crazy conditions.
"These firing solutions are dangerous. It is a fine line between shielding Jordahk and endangering him," the AI said.
"He is already in danger."
So the boy was leading the penetration team. The commissioner thought they might try blasting a path for them, but the zigzagging wasn't helping. A shudder went through the ship, and a single quarter-meter boulder was hypergun launched in a blink, leaving behind only a fading trail of energized particles. A VAD line passed near Jordahk's team on an unnatural trajectory.
"A test shot for local conditions. Once we start, we will have to continue without pause. Each succeeding volley is calibrated by the one before." Barrister paused for a second. "I am afraid we will have to overcharge. If the auto mags are set, I would suggest removing the accelerator crews."
Aristahl turned to Feliz who was sitting uncomfortably in the command chair. "Well, commissioner?"
It was all-in or nothing, although Feliz wondered briefly if he still had the "nothing" option. The old man had backed him, but now lives on the Velia were at risk. Anyone who ever watched a Sojourners' Crusade cineVAD knew the dangers of overcharging ship accelerators. He gripped the armrest tighter and managed a grim nod to Aristahl.
"Thank you, commissioner," Aristahl said.
"Relaying the appropriate orders," Barrister said. "Firing in three."
The ship vibrated. A javelin was built around its two giant accelerators; each designed to spit out the closely packed string of five rocks that was their signature. The ship bucked, and lights dimmed. A fading line of sparkles flashed outward on the starboard side. A fraction of a second later, the process repeated port side. Two thick VAD lines snaked past Jordahk's team, obliterating a number of asteroids.
Captain's VADs popped up around the commissioner as strained systems were already protesting. The jabber of incoming reports harried the remaining bridge crew, whose reactivated stations they manned reluctantly.
The javelin slowed, nearing the first haunted layer. It pivoted and fired the next two salvos. The dimming of the lights was more pronounced. Barrister took power away from everything to overcharge the accelerators. The plasma shields lowered to absolute minimum.
"Sorry to cut it so close, sir," Barrister said.
The shots smashed asteroids surrounding the penetration team, likely pelting them with a fragment storm, but it was better than direct hits from whatever was shooting at them out there.
"Try to protect their engine. They have taken quite a beating." Aristahl turned to the commissioner. "My grandson has put us in quite a predicament by launching early."
Feliz did not think the old man emotionally expressive, but in his burdened visage was a hint of worry mixed with strain. The ship shuddered with an unhealthy muffled clank, and the lights dimmed even longer.
"I'm directing damage control procedures," Barrister said. "Command authorization is requested. If you would, commissioner."
Feliz made a quick announcement and sent confirmations down the command net. He argued with an engineering crewie, who required convincing before he would do his job. The Gr'jot Auxiliary was more civilian than military.
The ship's magazines emptied fast. Usually a group of javelins maneuvered at high speed, launching a few quick salvos before retreating behind the cover of other fleet units. Barrister was burning through their rocks as fast as the accelerators could be overcharged. On the captain's VADs, a number of sections flashed red. The lights went out.
"Switching non-vitals to secondary power," the AI said. "Your atomic cells are past their prime, commissioner."
The lights came back up with a different hue. They no longer dimmed with the salvos, but a number of VADs flickered out. The commissioner cursed himself for having sold the ship's original freecells years ago. Honestly though, no one ever expected to take these old girls into combat again.
"I don't know how they're holding together now," came over the comm. "Crew's already pulled back. I'm out, too."
"That's the accelerator chief," Feliz said. "Mr. Wilkrest, I'd
rather not celebrate Gr'jot's rebirth posthumously."
In response, the old man gripped the arms of his chair and closed his eyes. Feliz was no expert, but he noticed the accelerator displays clearly in "blow up" range edge down into "imminent danger." The commissioner laughed to himself. How far had he come where such news actually made him feel better?
"Go easy, Barrister," Aristahl said. "There is only so much I can do with these." He was exhibiting that strange, strained grimace again.
"The magazines are nearly exhausted," the AI said. "I am trying to stretch out the last shots to correspond with the arrival of the second javelin."
The hatch to the bridge opened, and Feliz turned with a "What now?" expression. In trundled the oldest nurse he'd ever seen. It switched to walking mode and moved quickly to the old man.
"Apparently a goon was ordered to keep me in my stateroom. Well, he developed a sudden case of neural paralysis." The metallic voice of Torious sounded right out of a low budget cineVAD. The bot shook its "head" in a curiously expressive gesture. "Humans."
Medical devices sprang from the nurse, connecting onto the old man, who was worsening.
"Barrister, these accelerators have hit their limit," Aristahl said, his voice strained.
"That's good advice for you, too," Torious said. "Not that you ever listen."
"That was the last salvo, sir," Barrister said. "The second javelin has arrived."
"Commissioner." Aristahl, quite drawn, opened his eyes. "Transmit authorization, please." Feliz did so while Aristahl continued. "Barrister, be careful with their accelerators. I am... unable to help them."
"Our efforts are not going to be adequate," the AI said. "Jordahk has been too hampered by numerous hits."
Aristahl half closed his eyes. The nurse focused on the old man. They watched the second javelin, heat dispersion lines glowing intensely along its accelerators, empty its magazines into the heart of the rock maelstrom. Despite covering fire, Jordahk's hull took more hits. It started dodging in one direction only, sometimes having to go full circle to get back on course.
Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star Page 36