by C. R. Daems
“I’m going to love seeing her suffer. Not being able to do anything as we hit her again and again. Won’t it be easier to use our shard guns?”
“Think for a minute. If we use shard guns, the security guards at Intelligence will think it’s an attack and call for a lockdown. There are less than ten senior people who can open a locked-down door—none who like us. We’ll be trapped somewhere we shouldn’t be with used shard guns. On the other hand, they’ll call security rather than leave their post if they think it’s a fight. Afterward we can touch our Buzz sticks together, which will destroy them. We can just leave them lying there with her. They’ll no longer be traceable to us.” Blackstone tapped his head.
“How will we know when she’s alone? And what about the guards calling security?” Owin said as he swung the baton-like stick back and forth.
“Little details that still have to be worked out. Soon, Owin, soon.”
* * * *
I made my way down the little used level-two corridor, until I came to the two guards stationed at the entrance to the Intelligence complex. They looked familiar, but they stood straighter, if that was possible. They didn’t show any sign of recognition. Their uniforms had the Scorpion patch on their arms, and they wore the new Black Berets. It appeared they had replaced navy security, because of the limited space on the Hunter.
One of them spoke. “Your ID, ma’am.”
I handed over my ID and waited. I assumed Commander Wang would have taken care of my authorization to the area. A few moments later, he stepped aside for me to pass. “Thank you, ma’am.”
I was surprised when I entered; the room was smaller; and there were fewer people and less equipment.
An officer approached. “Lieutenant Reese, I’m Lieutenant Iglis. Welcome aboard. If you’ll accompany me, please, Commander Wang is expecting you.”
Iglis was a tall woman with a long narrow nose and face, which didn’t seem to go with her blond hair. I liked her friendly smile, and Thalia didn’t detect any strong emotions. Iglis knocked and almost immediately opened the door for me to enter. She was getting ready to close the door when Wang shook her head.
“Stay, Iglis. It’s good to see you again, Reese. There’s kaffa on the table in the corner.” Wang waited for Iglis and me to get kaffa and sit before she began again. “I’d like you to work with Lieutenant Iglis. I know you had trouble with Hendrix; however, I believe you and Iglis will get along. You’ll have to coordinate with her because you won’t be here full-time. Do you know how much time the Captain will allow you?”
“Not exactly. He said I should work it out with whoever is my current commander. It doesn’t matter. I’m willing to put in whatever time you and Lieutenant Iglis believe necessary.” I wondered if Master Chief Arnet had been assigned to the Hunter. It seemed Wang read my mind.
“Arnet will be pleased to see you. The Master Chief and Reese love to disassemble our equipment for the joy of putting it back together again, much to Lieutenant Hendrix’s chagrin.”
“I’ll have to talk to the Chief. Maybe he’ll show me how.” Iglis smiled at me. I liked her. She seemed easy-going and apparently didn’t mind working with a Riss-human.
My lip twitched.
Wang grinned—she’d seen the twitch. “Iglis, you have to learn to ignore her sudden attempts not to smile. Her Riss, Thalia, is saying something funny. Apparently, she enjoys life and also likes taking things apart.”
Iglis nodded. “Reese, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate hearing more about the Riss when you’ve free time. It sounds fascinating.”
For the next hour, Wang brought me up to date on the Compton and my Riss-human friends. Lieutenant Damion had decided to return to Saipha; however, he intended to live there with his Riss. The constant hassling and biased treatment had caused him to give in. With his Riss’s consent, he resigned. The other four were surviving for now, although they continue to receive similar discrimination.
“Well, what do you think, Reese?” Wang asked, when she’d finished.
I’d given it some thought, but it was still speculation. “If I were the raiders, I wouldn’t be anxious to put people on the ground again. That would mean attacking small colonies like Corona, or merchant ships. From what you’ve said, they don’t appear to suspect that we’re onto the Compton. I’d continue to watch it and evaluate its stops against any future raids.” I shrugged.
“We agree and have been doing just that. You should go over our findings with Iglis. You’ll have fresh eyes.”
I left the office with Iglis, who introduced me to the current staff. I was pleased to find Petty Officers Phalan and Wunk. It was becoming obvious that the powers-that-be had made an effort to fill the available slots with people with whom I was friendly. They’d picked well. We found Arnet with his head inside one of the group’s secret communication devices.
“Ma’am, it’s good to see you again. Are you here to help me fix this machine?” He grinned.
“I’d love to, but they keep telling me I’m not supposed to fix things.” I stood staring at the inside of the device. “Of course, they never said Thalia couldn’t.”
Arnet and Iglis laughed. Like everything else on the Tiger, the equipment had been upgraded and constituted the latest available. I let them know that I wasn’t aware of my schedule. Although it may have to be on the second or third shift, I would find at least several hours each day.
I made my way back to the bridge where Commander Kollar was sitting at the weapons console. She was a medium-size woman with short-cut dark-maroon hair. Her face was round with a turned-up nose and olive complexion. Judging by the ribbons on her uniform, she’d been in service over twenty-one years, earned the Silver Star and had a JPU Battle Ribbon for action against the Johaba People’s Union—a well-decorated officer.
“Commander Kollar, the Captain asked me to report to you for training.”
“Relax, Reese. We can’t afford ceremony on the bridge. Respect without the pomp. I understand you arranged a tour of the Weapons equipment.”
“Senior Chief Luckist conducted the tour, ma’am.”
“At your request. I’m in your debt. Now Riddler will actually understand when I tell him something about weapons he doesn’t want to hear.” She grinned. I wasn’t sure how to respond and decided an answer wasn’t required. Kollar pointed to the empty seat next to her. “Sit.”
She expected me to review one chapter of the weapon’s operations manual each day. Subsequently, she would review the material with me, answer any questions, and test my understanding. Two days of every week I would spend time in the Tiger’s simulator. Kollar would program a variety of enemy spaceship scenarios and use the results to provide me with additional training and evaluation.
“I expect you to do most of the work. I’m here to guide your studies and help if you’ve problems. Reese, you and...Thalia aren’t allowed to dismantle my weapons console,” Kollar said seriously and shook her head.
I smiled at Kollar’s jibe about my tendency to like looking inside things and Thalia’s disappointment.
* * * *
Over the following weeks, I fell into a comfortable routine. Up early to work out in the Scorpions’ area with Master Valk and his team, shower and breakfast, four to six hours of study, and an hour or two with Kollar, who tested my understanding of the material. Afterward, several hours with Lieutenant Iglis, reviewing the Compton’s stops and trying to determine the likelihood that one of them represented a potential target. The problem
was we didn’t know what we were looking for. Although several of their stops appeared likely targets, we had no tangible reason to suggest staking one out.
Thalia and I enjoyed the simulator the best. The missiles on the Tiger were the latest and very versatile. They could be programmed to perform a variety of functions. First their power could be varied during flight. This allowed the missile to be launched at slower speeds for long distances or rapid speeds for short distances. The missiles could be programmed to use multiple sensing methods: heat, optical, or target identification. We discovered the missile could also be launched as a dumb projectile, similar to a bullet from an old-fashioned gun. Ten preset configurations had been programmed into the weapons console, although the Tactical officer could modify them on the fly. The preset solutions covered most of the likely configurations.
Thalia and I became fascinated with using the missile as a simple projectile. Each session we spent at least an hour working on the problem. In the beginning, we missed the target all the time. Using the preset configurations, we scored well.
“Reese, why you do insist on trying to kill the enemy ship with basic projectiles? The people who designed this missile didn’t intend for you to turn off their wonderful features.”
“I like the idea of it being immune to all of the enemy’s ECM. That means only their lasers can stop them and that’s difficult to do under normal conditions.”
“Just remember that during your test exercises only your score matters. I don’t care what solution you use. You’ll fail using projectiles. You know the material. I’d hate your record marred with low test scores.” I knew Kollar was concerned that my performance in the simulator didn’t adversely affect my overall rating.
So Thalia and I continued working on a formula for using dumb projectiles. Each session we got closer. After weeks of work, we found a set of equations that proved reasonably successful in our limited tests. I would have liked more time to test our theory, but Kollar decided it was time for a mid-rotation evaluation.
The next day she took me into the Captain’s conference room.
“Reese, today is your mid-rotation evaluation. I’ve a one-hundred-question test. You’ve only two hours to complete it. After that, I’ve set up an enemy attack scenario in the simulator. A minimum of seventy percent is required on the written test, and thirty percent on the simulation to pass.” Kollar set a chronometer on the desk and sat back to monitor the test.
Even without Thalia’s help, I considered the test easy. With her help, I knew I’d scored one hundred percent. I finished in a little over an hour.
“Are you sure you don’t want more time?” Kollar asked.
“No thank you, ma’am.”
Kollar took away the test paper and spent fifteen minutes reviewing it. She looked up at me and shook her head. “Of course, you know it’s perfect.” She laughed. “I’ll want you to know I spent six hours preparing it to ensure no one could get them all correct. Okay Reese, off to the simulator, let’s see how you are at practice. I’ll warn you again that you’ll fail if you trying using projectiles.” She led me to the simulator. “This problem will take fifteen minutes. It’ll begin when you press the ‘Start’ button. Your task is to get as many hits on the enemy’s two ships as you can. Since you can’t control the movement of your ship or the ECM, hits against your ship wouldn’t count against you. Do you understand?”
I nodded and entered the simulator.
I activated the simulator, loaded our mathematical equations, and hit the “Start” button. Immediately, the sensors detected two enemy aircraft. I read off the speed, direction, and spatial position of the first enemy ship, loaded the information into our equations, and hit the firing button. Ten missiles burst from the ship heading for the first target. I computed the positions for the second ship and again hit the firing button. With nothing else to do, I sat back to watch.
I could feel her excitement. I watched with mixed emotions.
Thalia was incurable.
The missiles appeared to be right on target. As they approached enemy number one, the ship’s ECM started with anti-missiles, then followed with chaff. None of which affected our unguided projectiles. As they got closer, the enemy’s lasers took over and managed to kill three, four missed the ship and three hit, destroying it. I turned my attention to enemy number two. These missiles seemed to be slightly off target. In the end, six missed, two were destroyed and two scored direct hits.
Kollar was fascinated. “I want that formula, Reese. You’ve just made a perfectly useless weapon into a powerful secret weapon.”
“It’s not ready, ma’am. It needs more work. Fifty percent of the missiles missed.”
“Fifty percent hit. Wait for me in the Captain’s conference.” She turned and walked towards the bridge.
I’d just settled down when the Captain entered followed by Kollar and Uchida, who were smiling. The next two hours were spent discussing the formula and the concept behind it. The idea of shooting unguided projectiles went out in the twenty-second century with gun power; however, Kollar and Uchida were fascinated with the equations. The Captain left when the discussion turned exclusively mathematical.
Kollar allotted me more time with the simulator to work on improving the equations. I also found that killing one of the enemy ships was considered one hundred percent.
Thalia’s laugh tingled to my toes.
Things changed very little over the next weeks. Our formula continued to evolve with a general improvement in the results. Kollar and Uchida reviewed every change with interest. I was told not to store any of the formulas in my assigned area and was given separate space for our Navigation and Weapons equations. The formulas were designated restricted access and only accessible with special passcodes. I was instructed not to discuss them with anyone not on the list. If these equations worked, the number of hits on enemy ships would improve significantly. The methodology had exceeded the improvement in missile technology; therefore, it was classified as an SAS secret.
Life felt good. The strange looks continued when people passed me and some even moved away like I might be contagious; however, I had quite a few friends, most of whom were senior. These set a friendly atmosphere, which influenced the overall crew’s attitude.
Chapter 25
I woke with a shock when I heard metal hit the floor of my room. Immediately afterward, a gray cloud burst into the air. Just as quickly my world turned black.
Consciousness returned slowly. I could hear people talking but couldn’t open my eyes or move a muscle. I couldn’t be dead or I wouldn’t be able to hear. If I were trapped in my mind with no way to communicate, it may be worse than being dead.
“What happened, Sergeant?”
I recognized Captain Jordanno and Master Sergeant Terril’s voices.
“I don’t know, Captain. Gunny Valk called Lieutenant Reese when she didn’t show for her morning workout. She failed to answer her SID, so he sent me to investigate. It’s rare for her to miss a session and not call to let him know. When I arrived, I smelled something strange outside her door and immediately felt sick. I backed away and called medical and security, informing them I thought it might be a poisonous gas and suggesting they wear protective masks.”
Terril began coughing. It seemed like hours before she stopped.
“Sorry, Sir. Her door was locked, so the XO had to use the
system to unlock it. They found her in bed and a metal canister on the floor. It had no markings. They thought she was dead and brought her to medical to determine the cause of death.”
“Doctor Echart?”
“She’s alive but we’ve a dilemma. Her ID and her medical records stipulate that we’re not to treat her without her written consent. That restriction includes the use of medical scanning and diagnostic equipment. Since she can’t communicate with us, I can’t take any action to determine her condition. If she’s in a coma, we might be able to bring her out of it. On the other hand, she may be brain dead and there’s nothing we could do. Judging by Master Sergeant Terril’s injuries, she was exposed to a nerve gas. It appears to be something similar to cyanogen chloride. If so, she should be dead.”
“Surely this is a special circumstance, and you would be justified in evaluating her condition?” The Captain sounded exasperated.
“Normally I would agree, Captain; however, this is an SAS council order. I’m not sure I would do it even if you ordered it, Sir.” Now the Doctor sounded exasperated.
“I’ll authorize it. We can’t let her die because of some order incapable of conceiving every possible consequence of such a decision.” The Captain’s voice had risen as he spoke. “I’ll put it in writing if necessary.”
“No,” I shouted. It came out a whisper.
“She said something,” Terril said before she started coughing again. I could feel breathing against my face and assumed someone had leaned closer to me.
“No, treat—” was all I could get out.
“Well, that answers that, Captain. She’s refusing treatment. From her records, she did the same after she had been injured in a gas explosion. I have to assume she understands the consequences.”
“Okay, Doctor, keep me appraised of her and Terril’s progress.”