by Kalina, Mark
"Is he trying to ram us?" said Muir.
"...Oh, God," Freya said. "That's it, Muir. He's cooked our radiators... maybe he thinks we can't run the plasma drive and he can ram."
"Communications," Freya snapped, "get me through to that shuttle. Laser comm and radio! Smoke signals, if that's what it takes!"
"Talso, do you hear me," she sent. "Shut down your drive and stand down!"
The shuttle's drive burned bright.
"Can he even generate a ramming vector?" Muir asked.
Freya paused for a moment, running the numbers. "Yes. Not very high velocity, but enough."
"Engineering," she sent, "stand by main plasma drives. Give me as much power as the damaged radiators can take. Weapons, stand by main laser array. Give me a fire plan on the shuttle."
"Roger."
Freya switched back to the comm channel to the shuttle.
"You suicidal bastard, what the hell are you doing?" she sent.
A return signal, radio, flashed back.
"Suicidal?" came Talso's reply. "I'm already dead, you fool. So are you. We're all dead. We all have been, all along, ever since they dissected our brains to make their damned daemons."
"Captain," interjected the sensors officer, "the shuttle will attain an intercept vector in fifteen seconds. Impact 450 seconds after that, given constant acceleration... unless we maneuver.
"Guns," said Freya, "...execute the fire plan. Engage the shuttle."
Though the sensors feed, Freya could see the shuttle suddenly flare with laser energy as the Ice Knife's main laser array opened up. The swift-ship's main array was small by the standards of a lance-ship or assault-ship, but the focused pulses were still enough to shatter the shuttle's hull. Then the super-conducting power coils failed with a silent flash, and the shuttle was nothing more than an expanding cloud of glittering fragments.
"How bad is it, Muir?" Freya asked. The damage control remotes had been crawling over the Ice Knife's hull, evaluating and repairing where they could.
"Could be a lot worse, Captain," Muir said. "The damage to the radiators set up a thermal spike through the cooling systems, and the singularity reactor went almost fifteen percent over the redline before auxiliary cooling got ahead of it. We had to vent coolant to get the excess heat out of the system.
"The good news is that we didn't have to shut down the singularity reactor, and the overall stability is still within tolerance," Muir went on. "The bad news is that we got substantial destabilization on the singularity. We've managed to re-stabilize, but it was like re-stabilizing after an FTL transit; we're at least a hundred hours away from being able to generate an FTL initiation."
Muir paused. "And then, there's the radiators," he said.
"How bad?" Freya asked. She could have accessed the data herself, but she thought she'd rather hear it from her second-in-command.
"Our radiator capacity is down to just over thirty-nine percent of nominal. Basically, we lost more than half of our radiator capacity. We're doing what we can with the spares and the repair micro-bot swarms, but I don't think we're going to be able to get it back to even fifty percent. We can vent coolant to deal with short-duration heat spikes, like firing the main lasers, but our sustained acceleration is down to about two point five gees, at best. With the damage to the heat transfer conduits, it might be more like two gees. Any higher than that, and the waste heat from the plasma drive starts cooking the ship."
"Shit," Freya said. "Not good. Not good at all." She paused, running her hand over her face and taking a deep breath, glad to be in her biosim avatar for the moment. "But," she went on, "we can still complete our mission."
"Captain," came a sub-vocalized signal from the Sensors Officer. "We have an FTL emergence pulse."
---
Oversight Officer Segan Steven had not expected two swift-ships. The priority orders had specified one. It was supposed to be the same one that had made the close-range sensors pass after the battle, after the glorious destruction of the enemy assault-ship.
The orders had been correct as to location. Swift Liberty had made a successful FTL emergence at the outer edge of the waypoint system, where Central Command had calculated the debris of the original battle would have drifted to. But there were two enemy ships here.
"Sensors," Segan said, "confirm the readings on those two ships."
Commander Grantsen looked sharply at Segan. The facade of the foolish oversight officer was wearing thin, Segan knew.
But the sensors data were what held his attention now. Two swift-ships, and by every measure he could tell, one of those was damaged.
"Commander," Segan said. "Are you sure of the data?"
"No way to be utterly sure, Oversight Officer," Grantsen said. "But it looks right. The drive plume of the slower ship, and the radiated signature, suggests a drive operating well below optimum. Combined with the record of what looks like laser fire, that we got from the sensors drones we queried, I'd say the enemy ship sustained damage. I can't speculate on what happened; maybe a shuttle accident, or given that it looked like they fired their laser, maybe even a mutiny. Resolution from the sensor drone is very limited; range between the drone and the target was extreme. There's no way to tell more than we know... yet."
"And you're sure the second signature is another swift-ship?"
"Fairly sure, Oversight Officer," Grantsen answered, with a patient tone that Segan knew masked intense resentment. Not that it mattered.
"The second ship is drifting, so all we have is a passive infrared signature. I suppose it could be a decoy of some sort. But I doubt it."
"Why isn't the second ship fleeing?"
"I can't tell, Oversight Officer. We're still a long way off, and we can't intercept both ships at the same time. Perhaps their FTL is ready and the captain of the second ship thinks they can escape before we reach it."
"But the first ship is fleeing." Segan said.
"Yes. Slowly. We have an acceleration advantage of almost three gees, Oversight Officer."
"Then why do you propose to intercept the damaged ship first? If they are not ready for FTL, should we not engage the other ship first?"
"You have the best insight into our orders, of course, Oversight Officer, but, as I understand it, we were commanded to intercept a Hegemonic swift-ship that was suspected of returning to this system. Our sensor drones, and our own sensors, have confirmed which ship it is, and I've ordered the Swift Liberty to vector to engage her and execute our orders."
"Very well, Commander," Segan said. "I agree with your interpretation of our orders."
The drive shook the half-megaton mass of the lance-ship, so that apart from the crushing gees, cushioned and absorbed by the acceleration gel filling his command pod, Segan Steven could feel the underlying vibration... or imagined he could.
The Swift Liberty was vectoring for the slower of the two swift-ships. The other one, the non-standard ship, could be dealt with in due course, unless its singularity reactor was stable enough to initiate FTL, at which point, there was no catching it.
The crew of the Swift Liberty were in their acceleration pods, controlling the ship through direct interface. It was a constant discomfort; the pressure of the acceleration gel protecting against the ship's acceleration, the constant feeling of being frozen, trapped, the discipline needed to do everything through the interface... Was this how the undead lords of the Hegemony felt all the time?
Segan dismissed the thought, a dangerous tangent in any event, and focused on the vector lines of the tactical display data feed. What he saw there would have made him frown, if his face could have moved against the gees that pushed his life-support mask into his flesh.
A quick command into the interface opened a comm-link to the commander.
"This vector makes the closest approach just under twenty thousand kilometers. Can you give me a compelling reason why you want to risk this ship, Commander Grantsen?" Segan subvocalized.
"I don't trust this enemy, Oversight
Officer," came Grantsen's reply. "The commander of that swift-ship, if it's the same one, is too clever by half. I want a certain kill."
"Too clever," said Segan, remembering the confusion of the sudden FTL emergence of the swift-ship. "Yes, I agree, and all the more reason not to get close enough for some trap. No. I'm afraid I must overrule. Plan your attack using interceptors and keep us out, well out, of range of the weapons that ship has. We have an enormous advantage in range. Even I know enough of space tactics to know we should use it."
"If we miss this pass, they have a chance of going FTL before we can vector back to engage again, Oversight Officer."
"Then don't miss," said Segan, allowing himself to show some annoyance in his vocalization. "The enemy ship has obviously been damaged, can't escape... are you really telling me that the commander of a Coalition lance-ship, one capable of destroying an assault-ship, is now not able to destroy a tiny swift-ship?"
Grantsen was silent for a moment, and Segan suspected that he was barely holding on to his composure. Segan relaxed a little. No sense in going too far, so long as the commander remembered that the ultimate authority still -always- lay with the Coalition Council. It was time to drop part of the charade.
"Commander, I don't actually doubt your ability; not with the assault-ship, and not with this either. Engage with interceptors. Plan the attack well. Let's finish this clean-up and go home, Commander."
---
Freya watched the vector lines that sealed her doom, and her ship's.
The crew were silent, working hard to lose themselves in their duties, Freya thought.
"No chance to sustain enough acceleration?" she said, knowing the answer.
"No chance," said Muir. "We can out-accelerate him for the short term, but we'll cook the drive within an hour... shut it down with thermal damage, if we don't collapse the singularity.
"I know."
"We could dodge his pass, Captain," Muir said. "We've got a substantial short-term acceleration advantage, as long as we have coolant to vent."
"Not if he uses interceptors, Muir. Make sure the data gets transferred to the Whisperknife. They have the interceptor. It will have to do... the sensor logs aboard the interceptor, plus the copies from your pers-comp, will have to do. Interceptor Pilot Neel can deliver the report to Fleet Command."
"Yes, Captain," Muir said. "I don't suppose that escape pods..."
"Not likely, Muir," Freya said, sadly. "Swatting escape pods with secondary laser arrays is too easy. Oh, we'll try. If some escape pods get past him... the survivors might be able to hold out till another ship comes in-system and takes them aboard... And we'll take our own shot at the bastard... maybe we'll even get a warhead past his defenses. If he comes close enough."
But there was no reason for him to come close, Freya knew.
---
"You need to arm the 'ceptor," Zandy said to Nas.
"What?" Nas said.
The Hegemony pilot had just walked up to him, ignoring the unwritten law of the sanctity of the captain's privacy in his command pod.
"You can do it," Zandy said. "Your warheads probably use standard fission pellets for their stand-off drives. And the modern warheads can be mounted on the 'ceptor's rails."
Nas looked at her. In her still-singed civilian outfit, she didn't look at all like a Hegemonic Fleet officer. But she had flat-out told him that she wanted to beam back to the doomed swift-ship, had insisted on it. The interceptor's communication system would let her do it, she had said. And now this.
"So what?" Nas said. "You told me you're not staying. As soon as we confirm that the hyper-bandwidth comm on that interceptor is working, you're beaming back to your ship."
He frowned. "If you want to, that is. You don't have to go. I'm not sure what your captain has in mind, but if she stays here, her odds more or less suck. If we're going to be playing courier for the Hegemony, there's no reason you can't come along."
"No," Zandy said. "You can't fit more than one more daemon aboard your ship, in the 'ceptor's neural net. If we could get all of them off, it would work, but I'm not leaving Captain Tralk and her crew to die."
"No," Nas agreed. "You're going over there to die with them instead. It's what I said before; suicide just gives the bastards you hate a reason to be happy."
"I'm not interested in suicide, Captain Killick," Zandy said. "I want you to arm this interceptor."
"Just for the sake of asking, what for?" Nas asked.
"Your swift-ship hasn't got enough firepower to make that Coaly bastard blink! But the last thing they'll expect is an interceptor launched from this ship. It's the only way you're going to be able to even be in the fight."
"What the fuck makes you think I want to be in this fight?" Nas said.
"Because if you don't, that lance-ship is going to kill the Ice Knife. I thought you wanted to get even with them," Zandy said.
"Sure. But not to the point of my suicide. I want revenge for my crew. Getting my crew killed is a stupid way of getting it."
"If we get the interceptor into position without the lance-ship noticing, it's not going to be suicide," Zandy said. Except maybe for me, she thought silently.
"Big fucking if. You want me to risk my life, my ship, my crew... For what? For the bounty your Captain Tralk offered? For the glory of the Hegemony of Suns? Do you think I owe something to the fucking Hegemony?"
"No. I think you owe something to your crew. And to the Ice Knife for helping you get away from Yuro. And I owe you for getting me out of there. And Captain Tralk owes you too... Lots of people owe lots of people. It's not 'The Hegemony.' It's people. It's personal. And you can't draw lines around who's Hegemony and who's not... not unless you like lying to yourself."
Nas looked at her, pale blue eyes burning into her. Her gray eyes were just as intense.
Attack the lance-ship? It was a crazy idea. Not actually impossible, he thought. The clever experimental weapons of the Coalition ship actually made it more vulnerable to the sort of attack Zandy was proposing. But still, the odds would be bad. Damn it if he wasn't thinking about it, though. He could even see how it could be done, with three weapons platforms, the interceptor being the third: attack on three different vectors, all coming together at the target... that was textbook, and rightly so. The real trick would be in setting it up... easy to mis-coordinate and come in one at a time, which would be immediately fatal against the lance-ship's firepower.
But how wasn't the issue. Why? Why should he attack the lance-ship? There was every reason not to. Just the idea of risking his life, his ship, for the fucking Hegemony of Suns, was enough to bring either laughter or rage... or both.
There was nothing keeping Whisperknife in the system. He was still about forty hours from being ready to initiate FTL, but there was no problem keeping away from the lance-ship. His edge in acceleration was small, but it was there, and a slower ship could not catch a faster one, barring something very clever or unexpected.
He supposed the lance-ship could try to stay on his tail, forcing him to run his drives at full power to keep away; he couldn't stabilize his singularity reactor while the plasma drive was running full out, but sooner or later, the lance-ship would fall far enough behind to give him the time to get the singularity stable enough for FTL, and then he'd be out of here, safe, uncatchable. Could the Coaly run him out of reaction mass before he got enough of a lead to let his singularity reactor restabilize?
No. It had a human crew, and he was sure his people could manage more time in their acceleration pods than a Coaly crew. Even if they matched his endurance in the 'pods, his ship's edge in acceleration would let him pull away and buy time to drift, getting ready for FTL before the lance-ship could bring him into range.
And besides, if he did owe the Hegemony something, didn't that mean he had to deliver the information he had? Right. No reason to stay and every reason to run.
Run. He had run from the Hegemony when they betrayed him. The writing on the wall had been clear
enough for him. There was no point in trying to get justice at the Inquiry, not for a demoi like him. Nothing to do for Nas Killick except run. But not now. Captain Nas Killick of the Brotherhood swift-ship Whisperknife didn't run. Hah! Bullshit, he thought. Void-runners were all about running. Run from an escort ship, if one shows up. Run after a rich prize. Run hard to keep up, so the Brotherhood's backing syndicate didn't decide someone else would be more profitable as captain of "their" ship... their "investment."
Run from the Coalies, when they set you up to die. At least he had gotten some revenge there, gotten the Hegemony officers away safe from the Coaly ambush. But the tall man had gotten away. And now, run from the Coaly lance-ship. No other choice, really, was there?
"You fucking talk too much," Nas said, at length. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Fine," he bit out. "You want our help. You get it... Son of a bitch! I just can't believe I'm going to do this."
For another long moment Nas was silent, staring ahead. Then, "Senny, Xulios!" Nas snapped, "get to the magazines and start prepping the warheads; off-load the fission fuel off half the old warheads, and get with Ylayn to reprogram the targeting system interfaces of the other warheads. We're going to fuel and arm the fucking interceptor we collected.
"Communications! Warez, get the comm laser locked on to the Ice Knife. Send them a message. We're going to help take care of their lance-ship trouble for them."
"Captain?" Warez said, and Nas locked eyes with the communications man. "Yes, Captain!"
"And you," Nas said, looking back to Zandy. "If you so much as crack a smile, I swear you'll be out the fucking airlock. This isn't about helping your fucking Fleet, Zandy. Don't think for a even second that it is. This is revenge. Those Coaly fuckers tried to kill my ship, so I'm going to let you help me kill them. If that happens to be what you wanted anyway, it's no skin off my back."
The light-lag to the Ice Knife was almost fifteen seconds, so there was a long pause before every reply.