The Jovian Sweep (Asteroid Scrabble Book 1)

by Martin Bourne

  “You want to get a head start, eh?”

  “Well I’ve never operated this class of drone before.” Which was true enough. Everything she had said had been true enough. Sort of.

  “You’re new to the squadron, aren’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “One of the trainees from Delaney, eh?” The medic favoured her with a patronising smile. ”Trying to ingratiate yourself?”

  She swallowed. “No ma’am, I just…”

  Her objection was waved away. “It doesn’t matter. CM-2506 are the ones on standby. There’s no room for anyone else.”

  She tried to look disappointed. “Is there not even one unoccupied bay ma’am?”

  The medic turned and scanned the closed circuit links, flipping from one bay to the next in quick succession. Josie peered over the woman’s shoulder while her back was turned. She caught a glimpse of Donal, probably in one of the further bays, certainly one on the left.

  “Every single bay is occupied,” the medic concluded, with just the barest trace of triumph. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck warrior.”

  Now came the difficult part.

  All’s fair in love and war.

  “Umm, would it be possible to use an occupied bay ma’am? I'll be very quiet.”

  “That is highly irregular.”

  “I’ll ask permission of any CM-2506 warriors there ma’am.”

  “Hmm...I don’t want you accidentally disturbing anyone already linked in. I’ve seen people suffer serious damage from being jolted out of link. Not to mention drones being lost.”

  “I’ll be very careful ma’am.”

  The medic considered. “Very well, but I only sleeping or studying. No practical work. Do not try to link in without notifying someone.”

  “No ma’am.”

  “It can be extremely dangerous to link into a drone that already has someone linked, if they are unaware you are about to do it,” lectured the medic.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “And don’t spend the entire shift studying.”

  “I will ma’am.”

  “In fact, make sure you do get a good six hours sleep after blue shift has finished.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Prolonged sleep deprivation can affect your reactions and judgement very badly,” the medic pontificated.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Very well. Carry on.”

  “Aye, aye ma’am.”

  She saluted. Having delivered her piece, the medic didn't even bother to respond. She was already striding down the flight deck, no doubt trouble hunting for something else. Josie took the opportunity to scuttle down the flight bay corridor in the opposite direction before the woman came up with any more awkward questions, or even worse, another pompous statement of the obvious.

  She slipped from bay to bay, peeking in. Every one contained one or two warriors linked into drones, or several warriors sprawled at unlikely angles on the floor. Some were chatting or playing games. One or two were dozing. Recent duties had been hard, and it was no secret they were going to be getting even harder over the next few days. Like good practical Belters they were getting rest while they could.

  Inevitably Donal was in the very last bay. Wonderfully, he was alone. Unfortunately, he was also linked in.

  Slag it! What now? It was so tempting to just turn around and leave. This was a crazy idea. But Donal was there, his handsome features only partly obscured by the link connections. So she slipped carefully into the bay, closing the door behind her.

  She peered over. Donal’s fingers were tapping gently on one side of the console at irregular intervals and his lips twitched occasionally in rhythm to something unheard. He was fully awake but his conscious mind was concentrated on the virtual world of the war drone. It would require some effort to break the link. That was a safety feature. The medic might have been hideously overbearing but she was right about how dangerous it was for a linked in warrior to be unexpectedly wrenched back to reality.

  Carefully Josie placed her carryall down, wincing at each rustle and heavy footfall. She knew logically that Donal would be oblivious to her presence, but Human emotions didn’t work like that. She leaned over and checked the console. He was scheduled to be linked in for another four hours! So much for having the same “rest periods”. By the time he linked out the shift would almost be over. She wouldn't have much time alone with him before more people gushed in. She sat down heavily and stared at Donal, remembering the times they had spent, wishing that they could talk now.

  She should leave. She really should. This entire plan was decidedly risqué. If it didn’t work it would be a monumental social disaster, and she wasn’t doing well on that front as it was. If this didn’t turn out well, if she had misjudged Donal, or that nosy medic made a scene – it could finish her. She stared over at Donal. It was worth it. He was worth it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and slag it - she was a Courager now, not a Callistoan.

  All’s fair in love and war.

  She set her carryall down and tugged at its zipper. With the perversity exhibited by inanimate objects in stressful situations it promptly stuck half way. She struggled with it, the panic rising. It obstinately refused to move. Some of her spare clothes had jammed into the zip. She had to pick it out with her fingernails, a simple job that nevertheless seemed to take forever. Finally she managed to get it free. She continued to unzip the carryall. It moved a hands width and stuck again.

  She drew a deep breath to regain her calm. This time she pulled the zip slowly. It magically came free and she was able to remove the sleeping bag. There was just enough floor space in the bay to lay it out, although one end would be uncomfortably close to Donal’s feet. Now that was an idea! Yes, that would be subtle and yet safe.

  She risked a quick peek out the door towards the medical station. There were two medics there, deep in conversation. Neither was paying any attention to the array of cameras at the medical station. She ducked back in and crept over to Donal, ducking low and keeping her body between her hands and the encompassing eye of the CCTV camera. Carefully she loosened the restraints on his left foot, being careful not to disturb the actual link electrodes connected to his ankles.

  Alls fair in love and war.

  In his connected state, he would not be consciously aware of the alteration, but it would subconsciously ‘feel’ wrong somehow. Well, that’s how it had felt to her when she had neglected to fully secure one of her link nodes. It hadn’t been apparent at first. Then you got a kind of vague feeling of something being ‘wrong’, which slowly grew into an uncomfortable ‘niggly’ sensation in the back of the mind. Like what had happened to her in the piloting examination.

  That was a thought. Could that have been done deliberately? She shook her head. No. Surely impossible. Mahan had already been linked in. No one else could have come in.

  She undid the catches on her one-piece fatigues and quickly stepped out of them, hurrying to minimise the time she was exposed. Treacherously the loose fabric of one leg knotted around her foot and it took precious seconds to frantically untangle it. All the time she alternated casting anxious looks at Donal and the CCTV system on the wall. He was still engrossed in the task of piloting the distant drone. There was no way of telling if Ms Arrogant or her fellow medic were looking in. As medics they’d certainly seen much more than she was showing, but she hated to think of them gossiping. At the least it would get back to Donal, and she most definitely did not want that.

  Quickly she slipped into the sleeping bag and thankfully snuggled into its scanty warmth. It was rather cramped. She had to squirm and contort for several moments to get her underclothing off. The awkward clips on her breastband proved particularly prone to snagging. Twisting and fiddling, she finally managed to slip it off and press all of her garments down into the deep anonymity of the sleeping bag.

  The thing seemed to have been designed by a committee dedicated to spreading personal discomfort. The coarse material t
ickled and irritated, however her personal circumstances - fatigue and Donal's proximity - easily offset the discomfort. It felt very odd not being constrained by clothes while in a sleeping situation. She felt deliciously vulnerable and daring.

  Perhaps she really was becoming more of a Courager.

  She looked up at Donal. He was sat motionless, his arms with the light dusting of freckles resting on the desk. His eyelids were closed but rippled occasionally, betraying rapid eye movements as he controlled the drone. By all that was virtuous he was good looking! What would it be like to have those strong arms wrapped around her?

  Slag! Where had that brazen thought popped up from? Appalled, she quickly battered it down. What was the matter with her? It was Celene's fault, teasing her prudery. All she doing was making an idiot of herself. Perhaps she should forget this and just go, while she could. She could easily make an excuse that would satisfy the medics.

  She didn’t move. Instead she ran through the conversations with Celene. “He is really interested Jose, trust me.” Was that true? There had been a twinkle in Celene’s eye that might have meant she was ‘putting one over’, but then it was hard to tell with Celene. Her friend was so bubbly and full of life. Her face would light up when discussing quadratic equations.

  She sighed. No, it was too late now. She was committed. If this turned out to be a huge mistake she would have to rely on Donal’s discretion to avoid becoming a total laughing stock. She could almost hear the mocking voices now. “Did you hear that Josie Tallion made a try for Donal Courage?” “Really? What was she thinking of? Did she really think she stood a chance with him?” “Slag that must have been embarrassing!”

  It was all too horrible to think about.

  “You had better be right about this Dam,” she whispered.

  She thought she was too keyed up and too worried to sleep. But she had underestimated the extent of both the nervous tension and the long put-off need for rest. The instant her head touched her improvised pillow, darkness rose and took her.

  She awoke to a hand gently rocking her upper arm. She looked up and saw Donal smiling at her, very close.

  "Good morning Ensign."

  "Oh, err...good morning sir." She lifted herself up by one elbow.

  "How come you're here?"

  "I'm on duty after you sir, I thought I'd get an early start and...well..." His eyes dropped and flickered for just an instant, and then came back up into her face. His engaging smile strained very slightly, although whether widening or pursing she could not tell. What was this about? Then she had an awful feeling. Slowly she slid down a bit while drawing the stiff sheets higher about her shoulders.

  “Sorry sir.”

  “Oh please don’t apologise. It’s not often I come out of link to find a good looking semi-naked girl asleep at my feet.”

  She felt the heat rising in her face. Slag what had she done?

  “In fact, I think it’s only the third time this month,” he continued.

  Josie was so wound up she had to check his face for the faint grin that showed he was teasing. It was a very good look. She grinned back.

  "Well, I suppose I should sign out," he said at last. He pulled on his perscomp. He stood up and promptly wobbled.

  "Are you alright?"

  He steadied himself, and rubbed his shins hard. "Yeah, I'm ok. Just a bit of an ache in my legs. I don't think the foot links were very tight. It felt a little uncomfortable so I cut the flight as soon as I could. It's why I'm back a little early."

  Josie struggled to look bland. All's fair in love and war.

  "Well, as I'm early and so are you, I think we have time for a coffee?"

  "I'd like that sir."

  "Good...umm...I'll get one while I sign out. It'll give you a chance to get ready."

  Donal rose and sat at the console next to her, very close. In these circumstances it was very stimulating. She was very aware of his masculinity. She shivered slightly.

  "Thank you sir," she said at last.

  "Donal please. We are both now technically off-duty."

  "Thank you Donal."

  He walked to the door, opened it slightly, checked left and right, and then backed out so he could give her one more grin. When the door closed she collapsed back.

  Chapter 32.

  Depot Ship Valiant, Jovian high orbit.

  The tension on the Bridge was palpable. After weeks of the flag bridge holotank being pretty much bare, it was now thoroughly suffused with information. The display was a positive patchwork of flashing green and red. The fleet had abandoned its position and moved to high orbit. It had taken several days but the Trig main battle fleet, the infamous “Hammer”, had caught up with them. It was now close enough that Confederation sensor platforms were beginning to come up with some very good approximations of their positions and status.

  Courage himself was deep in his work, checking figures and simulations on his perscomp. It was only when Cromarty coughed and motioned with her eyes that he noticed Commander Prince, Captain Raime, and all of Valiant’s senior officers were arrayed around the holotank. They were all trying hard (and failing) not to look too excited.

  “Would you walk with me for a moment sir?”

  “What for?”

  Cromarty looked bland. “Morale reason sir.”

  Courage had learned to trust Cromarty on this, so he managed to haul himself off his all-too comfortable chair, very conscious of the many eyes that suddenly followed his every move. He followed Cromarty as she slowly paced around the holotank. He noticed that she was only looking at the display. After a complete circuit she spoke up, her voice pitched very high and loud.

  “There really are an awful lot of them, aren’t there?

  There were a few nervous chuckles. Courage came to a halt by Cromarty and looked over the holotank. “It’s certainly going to take careful timing,” he mused. He saw several people exchange anxious glances and felt a faint thrill, followed by a surge of guilt. He knew, because he had been warned about it many times, that it was childish to take perverse delight in other people’s worries when he himself was calm and collected. Sometimes he just could not help himself.

  He turned to Prince. “No change in enemy course and speed?”

  He caught his junior aide staring open-mouthed at the overwhelming wedge of hostile contacts closing in on them. Prince sensed his attention, and visibly pulled himself straight. He answered evenly, without even a flutter in his voice. “No sir. They’re still coming straight for us, and at a constant moderate acceleration. They aren’t even bothering to vary their burn strengths to confuse our Sensors.”

  Courage nodded thoughtfully. Ships could only carry so much fuel. Accelerating burnt it up very quickly, at the same time producing huge quantities of superheated and very detectable gas in the process. The higher the acceleration, the more hot propellant was released and the higher the chance of detection. In battle the wise commander would not order burns unless it was really necessary.

  If the strategic situation was such that accelerating hard was the only option, it was standard practice to make the burns short and sharp, and to randomly alter their direction, duration and strength as much as possible. A hard burn might give away your presence, but at least varying it made it just that little bit more difficult for an enemy to get an exact fix on you. More importantly it added uncertainty into their minds as to which direction you were really intending to go, and when you were going to get there. But the Trigs weren’t doing that. They were coming straight at them, steady acceleration, no deviation in course.

  Prince looked up from his calculations. “They must be very confident,” he remarked, redundantly.

  Cromarty cocked her head quizzically. “Given their numbers, why wouldn’t they be?”

  “There’s one very obvious reason why they might be cautious,” said Courage immediately. “Their superiority might be obvious to us, but they don't know what we know. From their point of view its possible we might think we have
another force tucked out of sight somewhere ready to pounce on them.”

  “But we don’t have such a force, do we sir?”

  “Well there is a precedent. They know we are effectively our second force.” He shrugged his shoulders. So you could expect them to be a little warier.”

  “Of course! Rear-admiral Vanderkolk! They might have guessed at two forces, but they would never think me might have three!” She raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh my! We don’t have a third force do we?”

  Courage smiled.

  “No! Surely not? Is that our plan sir? You managed to get VSB to assign another fleet and we are now leading the Hammer into an ambush?" The shine in Cromarty’s face dimmed as she looked at him. “That's not what it is, is it?”

  “No. Tragically we alone are the sum total of the Confederation’s military assets in this area. And, unless they are being criminally aggressive, the Trigs must know that." He turned and found Prince staring at the holotank.

  “All right. I think it’s about time we got moving. Can you zoom in the display please Commander Prince?"

  The youngster immediately rallied at being given a task. “Aye, aye sir.”

  Courage ran the figures through his perscomp for the umpteenth time, checked them against his plan, and came to a decision.

  "Belofte has done well so far, would you not say, Commander Cromarty?”

  Cromarty raised her eyebrows. “Very well indeed sir. Well, relatively so. Given her limited capabilities.”

  Corage smiled. “True. She has by far the lowest acceleration rate of any of our ships. Half of the tankers can outrun her. That means we will have to tailor our movements to her acceleration. Send a signal to Belofte asking her to change course. I want them to come to rimwards in a few minutes.”

  Cromarty frowned. “That will put Belofte in a less central position Admiral, which means she will take even longer to catch up to us.”

  “Not if she goes to max acceleration.”

  As Courage was expecting, there was a shocked silence at this pronouncement. He had to work hard not to smile.