The Rampant Storm

by J. Alan Field

  “Wait! Wait just a minute,” exclaimed Pascoe. “Goran? His son’s name is Goran. Goran Jones? Dr. Acree is the father of the leader of Earth?”

  “The very same,” replied Acree proudly.

  Carr was looking out the window. The two outside guards were still walking around as if nothing had happened, but he knew that wasn’t going to last for long. “We can talk later. Right now, we need to get out of—” Carr stopped as he turned to see Sanchez helping Acree to his feet and Hanley Pascoe standing next to the door, pistol in hand.”

  “No one move,” said Pascoe, brandishing the weapon. “I’ve been a fool—a complete and utter ass. It was all a setup from the beginning, wasn’t it? Eden Southwell, you two—Gods, I suck.” Carr started to edge toward Sanchez and Acree but Hanley was having none of it.

  “Stay put, Carr!” he barked. “Right now, I’m a traitor to my starhold, but I can redeem myself. Not only can I hand over two of the OMI’s best agents, I can also give them back Dr. Acree, noted scientific genius AND father of the Earth Prime Minister. Doctor, you’re a bigger prize than we ever imagined.” Delight spread over Pascoe’s face. “Oh, that’s rich—I may actually come out of this a hero.”

  “No, Hanley, you won’t,” said Carr. “Remember that last backslap?” Carr opened his hand just enough to reveal his thumb on the key fob which remotely detonated the Mighty-Mites. Pascoe’s triumph evaporated into exasperation. He frantically used his free hand to reach behind him, trying to feel if anything was on his back.

  “You’re bluffing! I don’t feel anything!”

  “Put the pistol down, Hanley,” Carr said in an icy voice.

  Pascoe hesitated. Very slowly, his arm started to drop. Then suddenly, he jerked the pistol back up and tried to pull the trigger, but Carr pressed the key fob first.

  The blast of the Mighty-Mite thrust Pascoe’s body forward across the room. The gun he was holding flew wildly out of his hand but did not fire. After he smashed into the edge of a table, Pascoe crumpled to the floor.

  Sanchez had draped herself across Dr. Acree to shield him. As she helped the older man to his feet, she looked Carr’s way. “Damn, Frank—I thought you were bluffing too. How did you know he’d turn against us?”

  “All that chatter on the passenger liner about his family,” Carr said as he knelt down next to Pascoe. “A man carrying too many regrets.”

  “Is he… Is he dead?” asked a horrified Acree.

  Carr checked Pascoe over. “No, he’s unconscious, but he should be all right with some medical attention. In a few weeks, he can go back to the family he both hates and loves so much.”

  Sanchez turned to Acree. “How do you feel, Doc? Can you come with us?”

  Acree nodded briskly. “I’m ready to go home. But how?”

  Carr moved to the window again. “We’re going to have company soon. Maybe we can make a break for the car.”

  “Why drive when we can fly?” asked Sanchez.

  “The Aquila?” said Carr. “But it’s probably locked up tight.”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Acree. The two Sarissans stared at him. “That fancy shuttle belongs to the physician who’s been treating me, Dr. Varma. He’s very proud of it—and very protective of it. Always worried that some of the locals might try to steal his prized craft,” laughed the Earther. “So worried, he left the swipe key with me.”

  “What do you mean, with you?” asked Sanchez. “You mean to say that shuttle isn’t biometrically locked?”

  “That is correct,” said Acree, pointing to a nightstand. “Varma said I was the only person in Deerwalk that he was certain wouldn’t be stealing his shuttle, so he left the key here.”

  Sanchez retrieved the swipe key from the drawer. “Now we’re in business,” she said triumphantly.

  “One thing,” warned Acree. “He also told me the shuttle has a cockpit security code. Before you can cue engine ignition, you have to feed in the proper password.”

  Carr was eyeballing the outside sentries. “Whatever we’re going to do, we’ve got to do it now.”

  Dr. Acree placed a hand on Sanchez’s arm. “Young lady, am I given to understand that you can fly that shuttle?”

  A broad smile came to her face. “Doc, I can fly anything.”

  Acree returned her smile with a grin of his own. “And I can crack any password. As you say, we’re in business.”

  “Don’t fool yourselves, kids,” said Carr from his position at the window, “this is going to get nasty.”

  31: Duel

  Near the Dijana Gate

  Eupraxa system

  “Where the hell did they come from?” asked Captain Gambell over the ship-to-ship comm.

  Pettigrew shook his head in uncertainty. “I dunno. Maybe they were already in transit to this system. It doesn’t matter where they came from—they’re here.”

  The Gerrhan heavy cruiser Nobunaga had jumped into realspace minutes ago, sixty kilometers from Task Force 19 and the Dijana Gate, which the Union forces were trying to seize. In the enormity of space, sixty kilometers was close, but it was far enough away to give the two captains time for a quick conference.

  “Since we fired the EMP weapon, Tempest has been losing systems,” Pettigrew said. “Shields and particle beams are off-line, and our maneuvering thrusters just went out as well. For all I know, comms could be next. Aaron, can you buy us some time?”

  “Can do, Chaz,” Sinopa’s skipper answered. “What about the rest of Nineteen?”

  “I’m recalling Helios and Zaria, but they’re both too far out to get back here before you engage that enemy cruiser.” The Union ships had been recovering survivors from a pair of Commonwealth ships destroyed by Task Force 19 just one hour earlier.

  “And Brigand?” asked Gambell in a guarded voice. “She got shot up pretty badly in that last rumble.”

  Pettigrew agreed. “Too badly to be of any use to you. She can stay here and cover our rear end while Mullenhoff and her people sort this mess out.”

  On the comm screen, Gambell appeared to be distracted for a moment before turning back to TF 19’s senior-captain. “Our bandit is on the move. Put your feet up, Chaz—Sinopa will take care of this,” he said affably.

  “Good hunting, my friend. Pettigrew out.”

  The enemy warship was indeed on the move and picking up speed toward the Dijana Gate. At only sixty klicks distant and with Sinopa advancing to intercept, the two cruisers would be tangling with each other in mere minutes.

  Pettigrew turned to David Swoboda. “XO, order Blackthorn out of the area. The last thing we need right now is for that transport to get blown up.” Minutes later, the slow-moving troop carrier was underway to wait out the engagement in a safer part of the Black.

  Tempest’s bridge crew watched helplessly as Sinopa and Nobunaga began to duel. Gambell loosed several volleys of missiles against his Commonwealth opponent, which the enemy point-defense crews and computers handled with admirable skill. Only a few of Sinopa’s birds struck home, and for little damage at that. The distance between the two combatants was closing fast and neither ship had really done any harm to the other yet. It was like watching two boxers feel each other out in the early rounds.

  “They are evenly matched,” commented Swoboda from his station.

  Pettigrew leaned forward and interlaced his fingers. “And they’re going to be more evenly matched in just a few minutes.”

  “Sir?”

  “Our big advantage is supposed to be the shields, however in a few minutes the enemy is going to be within energy weapons range. Shields are good against missiles and torpedoes, but they aren’t very effective against beam weapons, as Nobunaga’s captain seems to have guessed. The enemy is trying to turn this into a knife fight, Mr. Swoboda.”

  Understanding spread over the XO’s face. “And because they started so close to each other, Captain Gambell hasn’t had time to wear the Gerrhan ship down with missiles.”

  “Precisely,” said the captain, absorbed in th
e tactical situation.

  “Mullenhoff to Pettigrew—we found the problem.”

  The Chief Engineer’s voice jolted the captain from his growing concern for Sinopa. “Pettigrew here. Give it to me quick and dirty, Commander.”

  They were on an audio only comm channel, but the captain swore he just heard Mullenhoff smile. “You’re gonna love this,” she said. “The EMP weapon…”

  “Yes, go on, Commander.”

  “The EMP weapon leaked.”

  Pettigrew simply stared straight ahead and blinked a few times. “What do you mean, ‘it leaked?’”

  He could hear Mullenhoff on the other side of the channel take a deep breath before launching into the explanation. “The reason we don’t generally use electromagnetic pulses as weapons is because they are omnidirectional—the pulse not only fries the electronics of the enemy but friendlies as well, including the ship that fires it. But our engineers found a way to contain and project the pulse into a forward burst…”

  “And let me guess,” a frustrated Pettigrew interrupted, “the containment didn’t work so well.”

  “You got it. We had some, umm, seepage, which fried some of our electronics in addition to the Gate station. My engineers are replacing things right now.”

  “Good work, Commander. How did you figure it out?”

  “Actually, sir, I opened up a tight-beam comm channel with the Chief Engineer aboard Huntress. Between the two of us, we came up with the answer.” Pettigrew knew who the head engineer of Fleet Admiral Maxon’s flagship was—Ajax Baker, Mullenhoff’s longtime boyfriend.

  “You and Ajax, huh? The two of you make a good team.”

  “That’s what I keep telling him,” sighed Mullenhoff.

  “All right, Chief Engineer, good work. Thank the Gods the EMP projector has served its purpose. Now we need to concentrate our efforts on the enemy before us.”

  Glancing at the viewscreen and the tactical display, Pettigrew’s thoughts turned back to Sinopa’s struggle against the enemy cruiser. “Uschi, how long until repairs are complete?”

  “Provided we’ve found everything, I’d say about thirty minutes—forty tops.”

  Chaz Pettigrew watched the screen as another particle beam ripped through Sinopa’s shields and cut into her hull. “Make it quick, Commander. I’m not sure Sinopa has thirty minutes.”

  * * * *

  “All life pods are away, Captain,” reported Commander Swoboda. For the last fifteen minutes, internal explosions had rocked the Union cruiser Sinopa as its crew abandoned ship. The enemy vessel had eased up on its attack, allowing the Sinopa spacers to flee their hopelessly damaged spacecraft.

  “Any word on Captain Gambell?” asked Pettigrew.

  “Not yet, sir,” answered the subdued XO. “Sinopa’s computer is reporting that all hands have left the ship. There are no life signs remaining aboard her.”

  “Enemy firing!” announced Olivia Kuypers, the watch Tactical Officer. The Nobunaga unleased a half dozen Cheetah torpedoes at her wounded adversary, which mercilessly tore through the weakened vessel and set off another round of explosions, finishing the cruiser.

  There was total silence on the bridge. The charred hull that was once Sinopa had been Tempest’s sister ship in more than just name. The two vessels had served together in Task Force 19 for over two years. Their crews had fought together, celebrated victories together, and now perhaps, would die together.

  “Captain,” Swoboda said, breaking the stillness. “Engineering is reporting that all systems are back on-line.”

  Pettigrew stood. He needed to rally his crew. “All right everyone, listen up. This Commonwealth ship is good, but we are better.” A few smiles crossed some faces. “Their captain is good, but if you will permit me a moment of immodesty, I’m better.” More smiles, and a few cheers of agreement. “And I know damn well this crew is better. So this is the plan. Mr. Paruzzi—contact Helios and Zaria. Have them move at best speed to these co-ordinates, which will be designated as Rally Point Able,” Pettigrew moved beside his command chair console and keyed in a position in the Eupraxa system. “Also contact Brigand—they are to follow us to the rally point.”

  Ensign Kuypers turned in her chair. “We’re abandoning the Gate, sir?” she asked. Kuypers wasn’t being insubordinate—it was clear from her tone that she was simply trying to grasp the strategy.

  “Temporarily, Ensign,” answered Pettigrew. “The Nobunaga won’t damage the Gate—after all, they were sent here to save it. They also won’t have the assault troops to take it back from Major Mowry and his Marines, so our people inside the station are safe for now. We are going to rendezvous with the other ships of TF Nineteen and counterattack. Sinopa will be avenged!”

  The bridge came to life with fire and purpose, but Chaz Pettigrew knew he had cheated. He had said the type of things his crew needed to hear, but he wasn’t really sure he was a better captain than his Commonwealth opponent. And as far as avenging Sinopa? No amount of killing and destruction would bring back those who had already perished. Vengeance was a term used by people to justify things they knew they shouldn’t do or bad things they had to do. In his case, he hoped it was the latter.

  Pettigrew moved to stand behind Nyondo and Kuypers, who worked diligently at their stations preparing for combat.

  “What about the Sinopa life pods, sir?” asked Nyondo as she piloted Tempest forward toward Rally Point Able.

  “They should be fine until we resolve this. Sunny, how is Brigand doing?”

  “Barely keeping pace, sir,” Nyondo reported as she checked on the damaged frigate.

  Ten minutes away from the Dijana Gate, it became clear that the captain of Nobunaga was not going to be accommodating. “The enemy vessel is maneuvering, sir,” reported Nyondo. “She’s not going to the Gate.”

  “I see it, Commander,” Pettigrew groused, watching the tactical display at his command chair. “Whoever this captain is, he or she is very good. They’ve figured out what we’re trying to do.” The Gerrhan cruiser was pursing Tempest and Brigand, moving to intercept the two Union ships.

  Swoboda had joined his captain, standing next to him. “That is one of the fastest cruisers I’ve ever seen. At this pace, they will catch us within thirty minutes, way before we get to Helios and Zaria. Should we turn and fight, sir?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Negative. That’s what they want us to do. If we turn now, they’d be on us in no time at all, and it would be Sinopa all over again—our shields would be just as ineffective against beam weapons.”

  “But our fire crews are better than Sinopa’s,” said Swoboda earnestly. “I trained these people myself.”

  Pettigrew smiled at the pride his exec showed for the crew. “I’m sure they are, Commander, but why engage an opponent in hand to hand combat when you can kill him from a distance,” the captain said to a disappointed Swoboda. “XO, order Brigand to veer off from us and circle back to pick up the Sinopa life pods.”

  “Aye, sir. You think the enemy will follow us?”

  “You can bet on it. And as he does, we will wear him down with missiles. Prep your fire teams.”

  “Aye aye, sir!” said the rejuvenated Swoboda as he returned to his station.

  A few minutes passed until Nyondo gave the captain more disturbing news. “Enemy altering course, Captain. Bearing three-two-one mark eight—she’s chasing after Brigand, sir.”

  Pettigrew wanted to bang his fist on the arm of his chair and curse, but he didn’t. Again, the Commonwealth commander had refused to cooperate, and Chaz understood why. By chasing the crippled Brigand, the enemy captain was counting on Pettigrew to come to the rescue of his comrades. Tempest could either hold course and join up with the two other Union ships, leaving Brigand to her fate, or turn and engage the Nobunaga with only a wounded frigate by her side.

  The captain sat up straight in his chair, grasping the armrests tight in his hands. As a military commander, Pettigrew had a history of luring the enemy to fight on his
terms. This Gerrhan captain, however, was giving him an education on that subject. I suppose you can’t always have things exactly your own way, he thought. “Helm, alter course to intercept the enemy vessel and increase to flank speed.”

  Minutes went by as Tempest closed distance on the enemy but Nobunaga was catching up to Brigand as well. Pettigrew was scrolling through some information at his station when he heard a woman’s voice from behind him.

  “Permission to work from the bridge, sir.”

  Without turning around, the captain acknowledged his Chief Engineer. “Permission granted, Ms. Mullenhoff. You haven’t set up shop on the bridge for a long time now—your station may be a little dusty,” he said as he turned to face her.

  “Lieutenant Huang has everything under control down below,” the tall blonde said. “Thought you could use a little morale support.”

  “You mean you’re worried about me.”

  “Maybe a little. I used to have Adams here to do my worrying for me, but…” Mullenhoff halted, not needing to finish the thought for him to understand. “Hey, who’s he?” she asked, changing the subject to the file Pettigrew was examining.

  “The face of the enemy. OMI intel files on Commonwealth command officers. This is Captain Tuan Nguyen, commander of the heavy cruiser Nobunaga, or at least he was when the latest update was posted three standard weeks ago.”

  “Handsome man,” remarked Mullenhoff.

  “And smart,” said Pettigrew. “Very, very smart.”

  Mullenhoff leaned closer, speaking in a voice that only he could hear. “It unnerves you, doesn’t it? Thinking you might be up against someone more clever than you. Well, it’s not all on you, Chaz. Listen to your own speeches sometime—trust in your training, trust in your crewmates.”

  He held her gaze for a long second. “Take your station, Commander.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Mullenhoff nodded before she moved away to the bridge engineering console.

  She was right. It was an inconvenient truth, but she was right. He had to let go of his ego and do what needed to be done. Win the battle, not the battle of wits. Hubris was not serving him or his ship well right now.