by Peter Kenson
“Yes sir.”
“Detail a work party to assist the surgeon in his reorganisation. And pass the word that I will be making a personal inspection of the sickbay and the aft torpedo room in two hours’ time; following which we will recommence the drills.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
He swivelled his chair to face the communications section.
“Comms, where’s our baby?”
Ensign Ewan Targa looked up from the comms panel. “Transport Arctic Fox bearing 034 mark 7, range 200 klicks, sir. Still on course along trade route K35P. No other ships on long range scan, sir.”
“Thank you Comms. Anything in the tank?”
“No unidentified ships in this sector of space, sir. One Rhodavian freighter approaching on the same trade route - estimated time to intercept is 3 hours, sir.”
Mikael quickly ran his eye over the tank and picked out the three flashing green dots of the Cleopatra and the two merchantmen within range. The closer of the two ships, the Arctic Fox, carrying Rachel and the Ystradian ambassadors, had now made twelve jumps since breaking orbit yesterday morning and was currently recharging her power cells prior to the next jump. The Cleopatra, with much greater jump capacity was already fully recharged which was why he had decided to fill in the waiting time with a readiness drill.
In the tank the technical data displayed on the Cleopatra and the Arctic Fox, was being supplied by the Cleopatra's own internal systems. The other freighter, a Rhodavian ore carrier, had been identified by its electromagnetic signature at the last beacon it had passed on the trade route and its technical statistics had been downloaded from the vast database of commercial shipping to which every Imperial warship had access.
Mikael stood up. “You have the bridge, Number One. Maintain the long range scan and let me know if there’s any change. I’ll be in my ready room”.
***
The Cleopatra was a short, stubby little ship built primarily for escort and close defence duties by the shipyards on New Jersey. Lacking the speed and manoeuvrability of their elegant cousins the frigates, or the destructive firepower of the big destroyers, the corvette squadrons performed an unglamorous role as the everyday workhorses of the fleet.
The main offensive armament of a standard C-class corvette normally consisted of two Mark 4 Wehner-Metson pulse lasers fixed forward of the bridge and six torpedo tubes, four located centrally and two aft. However, the Cleopatra’s lasers had been so badly damaged on her last mission that she had been refitted with two banks of the latest Mark 13 phase modulated lasers that were only just being released into service. Mikael had been involved in the earlier trials of the new phasors but it was only due to the personal intervention of Admiral Wei that the Cleopatra had jumped the refit queue ahead of several larger ships. He had pushed to get the torpedo rooms upgraded at the same time but his current favour with the Admiralty did not extend his credit that far.
Nevertheless, the aft torpedo room was spotless by the time he arrived to make his inspection. Every surface had been cleaned and polished and all the equipment had been checked and tested. The gunnery officer Lt. Joel D’Mina, had only joined the Cleopatra at the start of this patrol and this was the first inspection under his new skipper. He accompanied Mikael, looking very anxious as each member of the team in turn was quizzed on his duties. After what seemed like an interminable time, he tried unsuccessfully to hide a sigh of relief when Mikael eventually pronounced himself satisfied and moved off towards the sickbay.
As on all C-class corvettes, the sickbay on the Cleopatra was situated on the second level just forward of the aft torpedo room. The surgeon's private quarters consisted of a small cubicle barely large enough for a bunk, a locker and a foldaway desk. In order to work at the desk, it was necessary to perch on the edge of the bunk. The sickbay itself contained two bunks, an operating table and a lockable walk-in cupboard for storing drugs and equipment.
When Mikael arrived the sickbay was gleaming. The passageway outside had been cleared of all obstructions and inside the sickbay itself, there was not a thing out of place. All of the surfaces were clear and with the equipment and supplies stowed in their proper places, there was no trace of the earlier disorder.
“This is looking better Tony. Have you got it organised the way you want it now?”
“Well,” he began, looking longingly around him. “I could always do with some more space but unless you’re offering to move that bulkhead over there, Mikky, I guess it’ll have to do.”
The two friends grinned at each other.
“Just keep your boxes out of the passageway, Surgeon,” Mikael said with mock severity. “We’ve only got a fraction of the space the Pushkin enjoys and....”
“Bridge to Captain,” the tannoy interrupted.
Mikael thumbed his comms unit. “Captain here.”
“We’re getting some confusing signals from the Rhodavian freighter, sir. She’s listed as an unarmed ore carrier but she appears to be powering up weapons systems.”
“I’m on my way. Bring the ship to Battle Stations and plot a course to intercept that freighter before she gets anywhere near the Arctic Fox.”
***
Mikael erupted onto the bridge with a flurry of questions. “What’s the situation, Number One? Have we identified that freighter yet?”
“Freighter is registered as the Monteparnassus out of the Arthrides cluster, sir. Manifest lists the cargo as rare earth minerals from Arcturus 7, bound for the foundries on Branden. No previous record of illegal activity and no record of ever having armaments installed.”
“Have we done a full scan?”
“Just coming through now, sir. Confirmed two batteries of pulse lasers - big ones - Mark 7s, possibly Mark 8s. And she’s carrying far too many crew for an ore freighter.”
“Okay, so she’s a pirate. Time to intercept?”
“Seven and a half minutes, sir. Reporting Cleopatra is at Battle Stations - ready time was 2 minutes 52 seconds, sir.”
“Very good, Number One. Comms, open a channel to the pirate.”
“Channel open, sir, but she’s responding in voice only.”
“Freighter Monteparnassus. This is Captain Boronin of the Imperial Corvette Cleopatra. Please open a visual comms channel.”
“Sorry Captain. Unable to comply. Our comms gear was damaged in a particle storm two weeks ago and we haven’t had a chance to fix it yet. We only have audio working.”
“Who is this? Please identify yourself and state your cargo and destination.”
“This is Captain Sandar. The Monteparnassus is an ore freighter carrying minerals to Branden.”
“Our sensors show that you are powering up weapons systems, Captain. I insist that you close down these weapons immediately.”
“Your sensors must be mistaken, Captain. We are an unarmed merchantman; we do not carry any weapons.”
Mikael looked across at Frank and received a firm shake of the head in reply.
“There is no mistake on our part, Captain Sandar. You have active weapons systems on board in clear violation of Imperial law. Unless you power those systems down immediately, I shall have no option but to regard your intentions as hostile and take appropriate action.”
“Sir, there’s another ship appearing on the screen.” The interruption came from Ensign Targa. “It’s a Vostovian frigate, sir.”
“So Captain.... Boronin was it? It seems that you have a larger problem than ourselves. I suggest you look to your own defences rather than waste time threatening a poor tramp freighter.” The channel went dead.
Mikael rounded on the comms desk. “Where the hell did a Vostovian frigate come from?”
“She was hidden in a cluster of asteroids, sir. She must have been powered down for silent watch. We couldn’t detect her until she brought her systems online and started to move.”
“Have we got an identification yet?”
“No sir. She’s definitely a frigate class warship and defin
itely of Vostovian construction. But she’s an unknown type, sir. Her signature doesn’t match anything on record.”
“How long have we got, Number One?”
“That frigate is fast, sir. We’ll be within range of her weapons in a fraction over four minutes. She’ll cut us off before we can reach the pirate.”
“So,” Mikael turned and carefully seated himself before continuing. “What are our options?”
“Well, if we can’t reach the pirate in time to stop the attack, we either turn to face the frigate or we get the hell out of here, sir.”
“And abandon the Arctic Fox? Not much of an option is it?”
Mikael glanced around the bridge. The crewmen at the various stations were concentrating on their consoles but every officer was looking directly at him, waiting for the decision that would shape their immediate futures.
“The Cleopatra is not about to run from a fight.”
He paused for a second to glance at Suzanne and to observe the reaction of his bridge officers. Without exception, the expression was one of approval. The captain had made the decision; it was now their job to carry it through.
“Now the frigate obviously poses the major threat,” Mikael continued. “So that’s where we’ll have to concentrate our attention but I don’t want to give that bloody pirate a free hand either. I’m open to suggestions.”
“We could load an EMP mine into a spare probe, sir,” Lt. D’Mina offered. “If we time it right, we could jump it into the path of the freighter and blow it. The EM pulse should knock out most if not all of her systems. It would certainly slow her down a bit.”
“The ships are too close,” Frank argued. “The pulse might disable the Arctic Fox at the same time.”
“But at least they wouldn’t be able to drive her away then, would they?” Mikael said thoughtfully. “We’ll go for it. Well done, Guns. Make it so.”
“Aye aye sir.”
“Helm, put us on a parallel course away from the frigate. Maximum speed. Make it look as though we’re running away.”
“We can’t out run her,” Frank put in. “She’s as fast if not faster than any Imperial frigate. She’ll be on us in minutes.”
“I have no intention of actually running away, Number One. Merely of giving the appearance of doing so.”
“Comms, contact the Artic Fox. Instruct them to maintain current course and speed until we contact them again.
“Then make a signal to the Admiralty. Top Priority, for the attention of Space Admiral Wei. ‘Under attack by armed freighter Monteparnassus and an unknown Vostovian frigate. Situation under control. Am about to engage.’”
“Situation under control, sir?” the ensign queried.
“You heard me, Comms. We’re outnumbered two to one, seriously outgunned and at least one of the ships can run rings round us. However the tactical advantage we have is the quality of the Cleopatra’s crew. Of course the situation’s under control.”
The quiet smiles that spread around the bridge indicated that Mikael had at least dispelled some of the tension.
“Probe ready for launch, sir,” Lt D’Mina announced from the weapons console. “Jump coordinates set for 20 seconds ahead of the pirate’s current course and heading.”
“Launch probe,” Mikael ordered.
“Probe away, sir. Probe coming into position.... Detonation in four seconds, three, two, one… Probe blown, sir.”
“We’ve got her, sir.” Frank looked up from the monitor he was studying. “She’s slowing, scan shows total systems failure. All systems shut down, sir.”
“Pity we can’t do the same to that bloody frigate but she’ll be too well screened. How’s the Arctic Fox?”
“She was further away but she still got caught by the blast. Some of her systems are down, mainly navigational and comms by the look of it. She still seems to have full power to the drives and most of her life support, sir.”
“Well at least we haven’t killed the baby. Now let’s see what we can do about that frigate.”
“Sir,” Ewan Targa broke in. “There’s a signal coming through from the Admiralty. Message reads: ‘Glad to see you have the situation in hand. Frigates Juno and Jupiter en route to help with the mopping up operation.’ Message ends. And it’s signed by Admiral Wei himself, sir.”
“Two frigates,” Frank whistled silently to himself. “The Old Man must be getting jumpy.”
“It’ll be that frigate,” Mikael observed. “There’ve been no reports of any Vostovian activity in this sector.... and she’s an unknown type. Bound to raise a few eyebrows in the corridors of power. Is she still behind us?”
“Yes sir. Frigate still closing rapidly. We’ll be within range in 57 seconds.”
Mikael touched the stud on his communicator. “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Engineering aye.”
“Chief, at her current rate of closure and from maximum firing range, if we apply full reverse thrust, how long would we have to hold it before that frigate overshoots us?”
“One moment..... Computer recommends a burn of 5.2 seconds, sir.”
“Thank you Chief. Set it up and stand by on my mark.”
“Guns... Frigate will pass by portside. I want the port battery to put a full charge into her as she goes past.”
“Aye aye sir.” Joel relayed the orders through the weapons console.
Mikael thumbed another button on the comms unit and the tannoy sprang into life.
“This is the Captain speaking. All crew stand by for high speed manoeuvres.”
“Frigate coming into firing range now, sir” Frank reported. “All weapons systems powered up. She’s opening fire. Rear shields holding, sir.”
Mikael braced himself in the Captain’s chair. “Engineering, full reverse thrust.... Mark.”
The Cleopatra staggered as though she had run into a brick wall. Across the bridge, Joel D’Mina gave the order to the port battery. “Fire as you bear.”
The next two events happened almost simultaneously. First the corvette was knocked sideways as a blast from the frigate hit her and then she kicked forward again as the reverse thrust cut off.
“Damage control. All sections report in,” Mikael ordered as he checked around the bridge. The environmental panel was ablaze with flashing red lights and the ‘Hull Breach’ siren was shrieking. “And shut that bloody noise off.”
“We’ve got casualties portside,” Frank reported. “She just blew straight through our shielding amidships as though it wasn’t there. Hull integrity has been compromised and we’ve severe structural damage to two compartments. Looks as though we’ve lost all life support systems in the affected area.”
“Can we patch it up?”
“Engineering are looking at the hull damage now, sir.”
“How many casualties?”
“3 dead, 5 injured - 3 of them seriously.”
“Keep me informed, Number One. Guns, did we hit her as she went past?”
“Yes sir. A solid hit. The scan’s not showing any obvious structural damage but her rear shields are completely down.”
“Good shooting, Guns. And pass the word down to the phasor crew. Can they still bear?”
“I’ve lost contact with the port battery, sir. They’re within the area affected by the blast.”
“Damn.” Mikael turned towards the helmsman. “Steer 20 degrees to port. Bring the starboard phasors to bear. Guns, how long before she pulls out of range?”
“Frigate will be out of range in 1 minute 27 seconds, sir.”
“Open fire as soon as you have a bearing. I want sustained fire on the engine manifolds.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Damage report, Number One.”
“Engineering have run a full structural check on the hull, sir. The breach is containable and they’re working on it now. However, the internal damage is more serious than it first appeared. The damage to the life support systems is destabil
ising the environmental balance of the whole ship. We’re working flat out to regain control, sir.”
“Shut down all non-essential systems. Redirect the power to life support.”
Mikael turned and seated himself in the captain’s chair. “Report Guns.”
“Starboard battery’s bearing on the frigate, sir,” Lt. D’Mina reported. “Maintaining fire on engine manifolds.”
“Are we doing any damage yet?”
“Her shields are still down, sir. We’re hitting bare metal.”
“Can we feed any more power through those phasors, Guns?”
“They’re at their maximum rated capacity now, sir. We can maybe push another 10% through but any more than that and they’ll burn out.”
“Do it. Once she gets out of range she can turn and come at us head on. We’ll be firing at her forward screens and we’ll have lost our only advantage.”
“Sir,” Frank protested. “We’re draining power from the life support systems. The instability’s increasing again.”
“Maintain power to the phasors. You’ll have to do your best, Number One. If that bloody frigate gets away from us, we’re dead anyway.
“Guns, how long before she’s out of range?”
“Eight seconds, sir..... Six, five, four...”
The count tailed off as the lights failed and every screen went blank. There was a heart-stopping pause until the emergency lights came on and the backup systems started to flick on.
“Status report,” Mikael ordered.
“Total life support failure, sir. That final phase of instability overloaded the power supply and took out the main board down in Engineering. We can reroute the power around the board but the life support system is totally shot. We have approximately two hours of breathable air, sir.”
“Thank you, Number One. Guns, where’s that bloody frigate?”
“I don’t exactly know, sir. She’s not where she should be.”
“Is she turning to come back for us?”
“I don’t think so, sir but I don’t have all round scanning back yet.... She’s nowhere in our forward arc, sir.”
“Then where the bloody hell is she?” Mikael demanded furiously. “Find me that bloody frigate.”