NFI: New Frontiers, Incorporated: Book 2, the New Frontiers Series

by Jack L Knapp

  The president paused to let that sink in, and sipped at his water.

  “This is where we stand. NFI has us over a barrel and I don’t like it worth a bucket of warm spit. I think we ought to do something about it. That’s where the contacts I mentioned come in. Our representative, a man named Pinchot Forberger, thinks this grand alliance is the way to go. Instead of trying to make NFI see reason individually, he thinks that collectively we can do what we here in Washington can’t. That’s why I called this meeting; I’ll want your thoughts in memo form. If this leaks, expect to look for another job. And that’s the least that will happen to you. Don’t piss me off on this, I won’t have it.”

  The president glanced at each member in turn. Even the vice president was now looking at him. Some of the faces showed traces of alarm.

  “I need to know your thinking, so make sure it’s in the memo. Should we get involved, or stay out and chart our own course? If we decide to join the other nations I mentioned, when should I involve Congress? Should we shoot for a loose association, or a treaty? Keep it low level, which is to say deniable, or should we involve heads of state? I can’t give you much time. I’ve got that nomination to the court of appeals to push through. So I want those memos within ten days. Do you have any questions?”

  There were none, which didn’t surprise the president. Questions would be asked of staff members when the boss wasn’t looking over their shoulder.

  “Thank you for attending, gentlemen.” The president stood, the others stood, and waited while he left the room. Two secret service agents waited outside and swung in behind the president as he headed upstairs.

  #

  Milton Smart was tired. The second trip to space had taken longer than usual. He’d hovered Bee just long enough to set the beacon, then release the clamp holding the first fuel rod. He’d then drifted past the berm separating the two locations and released the second rod. For whatever reason, the third rod refused to release. It was far too hot radioactively to be approached, even wearing a three-layer suit. Finally, he’d taken it into space and managed to launch it toward the sun. The clamps had worked fine in zero gravity, after stubbornly refusing to function in the moon’s sixth of a gee. NFI wouldn’t be happy, they wanted every fuel rod they could get, but they’d just have to live without that last one. Delaying his return even more, he’d had to refuel at Station Eleven. But this worst-ever trip was finally coming to an end.

  The green forest below opened and the cleared space in front of NFI’s hangars became visible. Milton called up the checklist and read off the first item, only to be interrupted by a flash and loud chime.

  “Radar alert. Radar alert. Radar...” Milton shut off the sound and glanced at the blinking light. This time it was flanked by two other lights, both glowing a sullen red.

  “What the hell, Porky?”

  “We’ve got company, Milt, direction three five degrees, toward Murmansk. Range, two fiver fiver kilometers. Two contacts, they’re flying low, but they’re damned fast. They’re still in Russian airspace, but coming our way. Range is down to one niner fiver kilometers.”

  “Shit. Fuel state, eighty six percent. Good thing we topped off on our way down. Recommendations, but make it quick.”

  “Get the hell out of Dodge. If you try to outrun them on the deck, it might work, but you’d have to head due west. They can’t carry enough fuel to do much, not at that speed. The other option, go high. I think they’re fighters, so max altitude is probably angels 100.”

  “I’m going high,” Milton decided. “Tighten your belt, autoprogram canceled, I’ll be pulling gees. I can’t outmaneuver a fighter, but maybe I can make him run out of gas. Call in a report, I’m busy.” Milton dialed impeller power to 100% and eased back on the stick. The computer translated his entry and Bee curved left and headed up at three point four gees, all the computer would allow.”

  “Shoot or no shoot, Porky?”

  “I don’t think this is covered in our orders. If they shoot at us, return fire. We may not be able to use the Sidewinders, I don’t know if we can get them to track.”

  “I’ll try to aim the cameras their way. What are they doing?”

  “Looks like they’re also heading upstairs. Converging course, I think they’re trying for an intercept. Milt, they’ll catch us before we can get to orbit. We’re already within long missile range, but they haven’t fired. Maybe they don’t intend to; they might be intending to force us to divert to Russia. We’re accelerating, but they’ve got the advantage.”

  “So they do, Porky. But unless they fire one of their missiles, that speed will work against them. Stand by, keep feeding me range...”

  Milton dialed the impellers back, then reversed them, gently. Bee’s acceleration dropped to zero gee, leaving them held by the harnesses, then reversed. Two bright specks flashed through the sky, above where Bee would have been without the radical maneuver.

  “Now we head for the deck. Maybe we can lose them, maybe we can even land. They can’t get in position to do anything before we’re on the ground.”

  Milton changed course, diving for the ground far below. Dialing power back, he brought Bee down in a shallow curve until they were flying just above the treetops. There was no sign of the Russian fighters.

  “Any sign of that Russian radar?”

  “Nothing on the scope. Want me to update that last report?”

  “No, not yet. Let’s keep the radio off, I’m switching off the radar too. Let them find us using the mark one eyeball...if they can.”

  Half an hour later, Milton resumed radio contact. The hangar door was open, waiting, when he eased Bee onto the apron.

  #

  Chuck was alerted immediately. He listened silently to the replay, then called Adelheid.

  “Bonuses for Milt and Porky, prepare a recommendation for my signature. Conference call, Frenchy, Milt, and me. Do we have any former fighter pilots flying for us? Find out. Then find out what the Finns are saying, the Russians overflew their territory. Suggest they make a diplomatic protest, if nothing else. Let Pete know what happened, see if he has a recommendation about upgrading armaments on our ships. I want a meeting with the Finns, the factory managers. If they came at us once, they can do it again. Meeting with the Iceland ministers, purpose, possibly upgrade our base in Reykjavik. Meeting with Wolfgang, find out what our pilots think. They deserve to be heard, some might not want to fly for us if enemy fighters are involved. Got all that?”

  Adelheid scribbled furiously.

  “I have it, Chuck. Will there be anything else?”

  “Not right now. I’ll be available when you get the conference call set up.”

  “I’ll call you, Chuck.”

  Adelheid left silently, leaving Chuck staring out the window.

  #

  “Mister Triffin, do you have a moment?” The speaker wore the uniform of an Air Force Colonel.

  “Go ahead, colonel.”

  “I have some of the information you asked for. We think we’ve located the ship you described. She’s currently proceeding north, speed eight knots. Nearest land at the moment, Grenada. Presumed last port of call, Caracas, Venezuela.”

  “Venezuela? Are you sure?”

  “No, sir. We extrapolated backward, based on her course, and that was the nearest city. If she hugged the northeastern coast of South America, she could have come from anywhere.”

  “So what’s her destination?”

  “Best guess, Puerto Rico. She won’t get there today, though, not at that speed. She’s just an old tramp; I’m surprised she’s moving as fast as she is. We got a high altitude photo from an ObSat, the name isn’t clear but it seems to start with a ‘T’.”

  “Can you get a closer look?”

  “Not with a satellite, sir. We can dispatch a recon plane, if you’re willing to authorize the flight.”

  “Do it. How long?”

  “I’ll let you know, sir. Flying out of Florida...”

  Chapter Twenty-twor />
  Chuck concentrated on his driving. He was tired, so watching the traffic took more attention than usual. The trip home took almost an hour, but finally he parked in front of the garage, behind the main house. He left the car outside; one of the employees would wash it and move it inside the garage.

  Frenchy was on the veranda, looking off to Mount Coot-tha, blue in the distance. He’s looking old, thought Chuck. When did that happen? Frenchy, hearing him step through the entrance, turned and held up a cup in salute. “Welcome home, Chuck.”

  “Thanks, Frenchy. How are things going?”

  “About the same as usual. The twins wear me out, I need a cup of tea to recover!”

  “Where’s Lina?”

  “In the nursery, getting them bedded down. You’ll have to wait until later if you want a playtime.”

  Chuck shook his head. “I’m exhausted. It just never ends, does it?”

  “Not really. Swat one bug, a hundred others take its place. What is it this time?”

  “Two things, one of them critical. Got a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure, I’m not going anywhere. What’s on your mind?”

  “Start with the easy one. What do you know about a ship named Tesla?”

  “We bought it years ago, before we left the US. It was one step ahead of the ship-breakers then, but we needed a test bed for the impellers. We gave up on that idea. To be honest, Morty thought it was worth trying, so I went along with him. It was junked as soon as we closed down the New Mexico factory.”

  “It didn’t get junked, Frenchy. It’s still going, but now it’s falling apart. Some of the impellers have failed, the hull is going too. Sven Nelsen’s the captain now. He wanted approval to junk her, and I agreed. We’ll pull the impellers and sell the hull for scrap.”

  “The impellers failed? Did he say why?”

  “Corrosion, salt air got inside the shells. Four are still operating, the rest are stored in one of the ship’s compartments.”

  “So that doesn’t impact space ops. I worried, for a moment. But it sounds like the right thing to do. When will this happen?”

  “Two weeks or so. I’ll have a crew meet him in Charleston to salvage what they can. I promised him a slot in Martha’s school.”

  “Makes sense. I remember Sven, he’s a good man. Good people, especially managers, are hard to find. But I can’t see Sven behind a desk.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on his progress. I told him we’d find work for his crew if they wanted to stay with us.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good policy, never lay off employees. They can always leave, but they stay loyal. Treat people good, they’ll treat the company good. You mentioned another problem?” Frenchy sipped his tea, then grimaced. He set the cup on its saucer and massaged his left forearm.

  “Something wrong, Frenchy?”

  “Little numbness. I think I need more exercise. But about that problem?”

  “I need advice, Frenchy. Bee had a close call. Two Russian fighters crossed the Finnish border and headed for them on an intercept course. The crew thinks they only meant to harass Bee, maybe try to force them to divert to Russia, otherwise they’d have fired a missile. We got tentative identification on the Russian planes, it’s that new Sukhoi fighter. It supercruises at Mach 2 and has longer range than the MIGs. For armament, there’s a 25mm autocannon in an internal bay plus two long-range air to air missiles under-wing. It’s bad news.”

  Frenchy gave off rubbing his arm. “You know more about our ships than I do, but none of them can pull heavy gees in a turn. We’ve got an advantage in altitude and top speed, but if they manage to surprise one of our birds, we’ll lose people. You’re fairly close to the Russian border up there; I think the Russians just told you to find another base.”

  “You’re right. It’s a shame, the Finns have done amazing work. Maybe we could keep the base to launch our new ships. Maybe if we stopped bringing ships in for maintenance and refueling, that would quiet the Russians down. I don’t know...I don’t see how we can expand the Reykjavik base. We could afford to buy more land, but I doubt the locals would sell. The Icelanders are okay with us being there but they won’t be happy if we try to expand.”

  “Probably not,” agreed Frenchy. “But we need at least one more base, maybe several. We’ve been lucky so far, but we have too many eggs in too few bases. Have you thought of basing ships here in Australia? I don’t know what the current government would think, but there’s plenty of room. There’s a big desert in the interior and the outback is sparsely settled. It’s ranch country for the most part, not all that different from New Mexico.”

  “I don’t have time to massage the politicians down here. How about you doing that?”

  Frenchy paused for a long moment, then sipped more tea.

  “Chuck, I don’t want to. You might as well know, I’ve got heart problems. Too many years of too much pressure, too little exercise, maybe too much alcohol. It’s more than burnout. If I take on a new job, it won’t be good for me.”

  He put down the cup. “I enjoy playing with the kids and I think it’s helpful, having a man in their lives full time. Lina needs me too. What would you think of Will being our contact with the Australians?”

  “Will? You think he’s up to that? I talked to him a week ago and he’s still adamant that he doesn’t want to fly, at least not in our ships.”

  “I understand, but that seems to be his only phobia. I think he could do it.”

  Frenchy paused, thinking.

  “I’ll talk to him if you want. I might have better luck convincing him to take the job. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “Would you? I really don’t want to get involved in business this weekend. I need time with Lina and the twins.”

  “Enjoy yourself. I’ll speak to Will when he gets back. He found a poker game in town and couldn’t resist.”

  #

  The voices were quiet. There was no reason, but somehow it seemed appropriate. Perhaps that was the usual practice among SEALS before a mission.

  “I’ll go over the plan one last time. We’re on a parallel course, four zero kilometers forward of the target’s last reported position. Your course is 330 degrees, distance to intercept approximately sixteen kilometers. We expect to approach from amidships, but if she made better time than expected we’ll turn and overtake. Weather is a factor, plan for it. Winds are decreasing, waves expected to moderate in height, but probably not before you approach the objective.”

  The speaker, a master chief petty officer, paused while he consulted a tablet.

  “Boat One approaches from starboard, board according to SOP. Minimum noise. Secure the comm shack, the bridge, then take the rest of the crew into custody. Signal the boats. Cox, you’ll radio the squadron, who will then come up and escort us while we search the ship. Boat Two intercepts from the port side, same drill. Be careful after you board. Sixteen men, tight space, we don’t want blue on blue. Deadly force is authorized only if fired upon, make sure you’re not the one being shot at. Say checklist status.” This was directed at the boats’ coxswains.

  “Checklist complete” was followed by another quiet voice, repeating the same message.

  “Launch in one minute.”

  A short time later, deck now empty, the teams waited. A low hum announced their departure. Disturbed water showed white briefly, illuminated by the full moon. The water calmed briefly before the waves resumed, and only the soft noises of the destroyer disturbed the night as it plowed ahead through two-meter waves.

  #

  “Adi, you must come quick!”

  Sven shook his head muzzily. “What...who...Pak Rafi, is that you? Who is on watch?”

  “I have called the crew, adi. There are pirates.”

  “Pirates? There are no...where did they come from, Pak Rafi?”

  “They come from behind us, adi. There are ships.”

  “You mean fishing boats. Pirates don’t use ships.”

  “Pak Iskandar has said s
hips, adi. They are close, and there are boats.”

  “I’ll come. Radio a report, then ask Pak Susilo to join me on the bridge.”

  “Yes, adi.” Rafi hurried away.

  Why would they want an old freighter, wondered Sven. The cargo is worth only a fraction of what bigger ships carry. Do they intend to take the crew hostage, demand ransom for their release? And what was his duty?

  Experienced eyes took in the weather situation. Wind from due aft, seas...

  Susilo entered the bridge. “Adi?”

  “Get the men into the boats, Pak Susilo. Make for Puerto Rico, it’s northeast. Notify the authorities as soon as you arrive.”

  “Yes, adi. What of you?”

  “It’s my ship. I’m damned if they’ll take her, not without a fight! You get the men off as fast as you can. I’ll see whether this old girl still has a finishing kick. With luck, I’ll get to Ponce about the same time as you. But I want you out of danger, so take the men and go.”

  “As you command, Adi.” Susilo vanished as silently as he appeared. Sven looked at the radar screen. Yes, there was an image, fuzzy. That was probably what Iskandar saw, or maybe the two ships he mentioned had now merged into one image. But not fishing boats; Iskandar had known what the scope image meant. Pirates with ships? Strange.

  Two lifeboats pulled away to starboard, angling forward. Smart; Tesla would keep them from being seen, even considering the moonlight. Sven clicked the switch, disengaging the autopilot. He now exercised direct control of the ship.

  The diesel generators thundered as Sven advanced the impeller thumbwheel. He gently moved the control stick, directing a course change toward the Puerto Rico landmass. Thinking for a moment, he moved another control, this one located to the right of the stick. The two forward impellers responded, lifting the ship’s bow slightly. It was all the old ship could do, now that she had only half her impellers. Would it be enough?