Renegade
Page 24
“Alpha and Charlie Platoons are on the rock,” said Draper. “Along with another twenty from Engineering. Rooke’s got thirteen in suits along with the drones, they’re fixing the jumplines now, been at it solid since second-shift began. And word from the Doc, one of our marine criticals passed away. Private Len, Alpha Platoon.”
“Dammit,” said Erik. He couldn’t recall exchanging so much as a word with Len, but that hardly mattered. He’d been Phoenix, and one of Trace’s, and they all hurt. “On ahead, Private Len.”
“On ahead,” the bridge echoed. The rest of first-shift were arriving, as second-shift vacated their chairs, not quite as intricate a procedure for them as the command-chair but close.
“Thank you Lieutenant,” said Erik, staring at scan-feed. Tek-to-thi was closing fast, no sign of deviation. One didn’t make moves like that in any territory if one didn’t mean it. There wasn’t a damn thing Abigail could do about it — she had four-Gs thrust in her, maybe five. Tek-to-thi had jump engines that could gain the velocity in seconds that Abigail could make in days. “That will be all. Get some food and make it soon, we might be leaving in a hurry.”
“Sir,” said Draper, and left. Probably he wasn’t happy at being relieved. Erik had never been, when he’d been constantly pulled from the chair just as things got interesting. But that was junior bridge-crew’s lot on a warship, just minding the chair until the adults arrived.
“You see this fucking shit?” Kaspowitz growled as he arrived at Nav. “You don’t intercept human sub-lighters in human space. Someone should blow this guy a new asshole.” Which was harsh language, coming from the brainy Kaspowitz, but summed up what most Spacers felt on the matter.
Erik switched channels. “Operations?”
“Aye LC?”
“Get me a shuttle on standby ASAP. I want someone out there for our techs in case we need them back aboard in a rush.” It was always faster to put them on a shuttle and grapple it than wait for slow techies in suits to climb back aboard themselves.
“Aye LC, one shuttle on standby for EVA recovery. We’ll be on in three minutes.”
Erik switched again. “Lieutenant Dale, do you copy?”
A pause, then a static-crackly reply. “Copy LC, this is Lieutenant Dale.”
“Lieutenant we’ve got a situation evolving out here, I want to you begin the return of all non-essential personnel to Phoenix. Further, I want all preparations for immediate withdrawal of all personnel to Phoenix, ASAP.”
“I copy that LC, immediate return of non-essentials and immediate preparation for total return.”
“Copy Lieutenant.” And to the bridge, “Helm, ship status change to orange, if you please.”
“Status change to orange, aye LC,” said Shahaim, doing that. It would pull everyone out of bed, and make all preparations for combat. The adrenaline charge across the bridge was palpable. Erik thought it vastly preferable to the previous feeling of helpless dread. Rooke had better be right with that ETA…
“We gonna go get him LC?” Kaspowitz asked.
“We can’t stop that interception,” said Erik. “And we can’t play our hand too early, our tail’s still in pieces. Someone else might stop that four-armed bastard from taking our ship, and then we’ll have revealed ourself for nothing. But if he boards Abigail it’ll take time. We can get him when he peels off.”
Karle glanced across from his full weapons systems check in progress. “Sir, we can’t decompress that ship if she’s taken prisoners, we’ll likely kill them getting them off.”
“He won’t be taking prisoners,” Erik replied, gnawing his thumbnail. “Letting him board a human ship in full view of a busy system is one thing — letting him take human prisoners could cause proper mutiny among other Fleet vessels.” Some of whom were surely doubting their orders even now. No one allowed alien vessels to boss about native shipping, anywhere in the Spiral. If a human vessel did this to a chah'nas vessel in chah'nas space, allies or not, the crew would be skinned alive. Sovereign species space was sovereign, and that rule had been true in all sentient-governed space for as far back as anyone had records.
“Be nice to interrogate one of their crew though, like they’re about to interrogate Abigail,” Shahaim muttered. “Find out who the hell gave them permission.”
“Exactly,” said Erik. “Kulik class warship Mr Karle. Get armscomp primed for it now, if we hit her we’ll hit her tail then board her. Phoenix has him out-gunned and out-powered, and he doesn’t know we’re here. This is as good an ambush spot as we’ll ever get.”
“Sir,” Geish said warily from Scan, “we’re currently surrounded by warships trying to find and kill us… if we commit to a boarding ourselves we’ll be an even bigger sitting duck than that chah'nas is now…”
“He’ll take off when he sees us,” Erik said confidently. He should have been frightened, he’d never commanded Phoenix into anything as hot and complicated as the pursuit and boarding of an unwilling warship. But he’d always been very good at this in sims, and seeing their relative positions, he knew the odds didn’t get better than this. “That’ll give us velocity to keep clear of pursuers for long enough. And Mr Geish, record all of this please, I want everyone to see what our grand Fleet is letting this alien fuck do to our sub-lighters.”
“Aye LC, already doing that.”
“Lieutenant Kaspowitz,” Erik added. “Plot me a course to Merakis, if you please.”
“Already got one LC,” Kaspowitz said cheerfully, calling it up to display. “We can two-jump it with a course change at Rikishikti.”
“That’ll be a heck of a thing with our new weld-marks still fresh on our tail,” Shahaim muttered, looking at that.
“Yes it will,” Erik agreed. “I have faith in Mr Rooke.” Another flip. “Major Thakur, you up yet?”
“That’s cute,”she replied. “What’s up?”
“I have a job opportunity for you. Chah'nas warship, Kulik class. Likely combat boarding at velocity, hostile entry and several prisoners for questioning, senior officers if possible. You interested?”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll do my recon now, get back to you in five with a more detailed plan. But for now, just know that I’d like an entry somewhere near the nose, with those main access corridors that gives me a straight shot to main crew and bridge, on a Kulik that’s not too much space to cover in… oh, say three minutes flat.”
From anyone else it would be a crazy boast. Erik knew Trace Thakur didn’t make crazy boasts. “Three minutes it is from the nose, their dorsal layout may not give me much choice but I’ll try.”
“LC, incoming transmission,” Shilu announced from Coms. “It’s from Abigail.”
“All United Forces, this is Ito Industries sub-light freighter Abigail! All United Forces, this is Ito Industries sub-light freighter Abigail! We are subject to hostile approach from alien warship, repeat, subject to hostile approach from alien warship! Please ward off, we are unarmed, repeat, we are unarmed, we are a human commercial vessel on peaceful commercial business…”
The woman on com sounded pretty scared, watching that trans-light monster doplering in on her. Probably she couldn’t believe her own Fleet were going to let this happen… but why would a chah'nas warship be charging them if they weren’t sure they could get away with it? It had to be because Chester had talked to them, attempting privacy, but been spotted. Now Fleet would be wondering if Abigail knew something, with its Debogande-owned ID transponder, but couldn’t do it themselves because Fleet hitting unarmed human merchants would make them enemies in Spacer Congress. Let the alien do it. Let the chah'nas do Fleet’s dirty work. Were chah'nas command and Fleet command working together on this? To screw over everyone else?
“LC, this is Dale.” The Lieutenant’s voice cut off his train of thought before it could fully form. “ETA on return of non-essential personnel, minus ten minutes. Others can be back in sixteen once you give the order.”
Erik thought about it, gazing at the screens. “That’s too l
ong Lieutenant,” he decided. “Start pulling them back, cut off whatever they’re up to that takes them further out than ten minutes.”
“Aye LC.”
“We’re not going to be moving for another hour and fifty anyway,” Kaspowitz questioned, meaning Rooke’s repair ETA.
“I got a bad feeling,” said Erik. “That chah'nas bastard had friends, I’m sure of it. This could be a trap to lure us out.”
“And we’re still going to bite?” Geish asked skeptically.
“That’s a human ship, and if the chah'nas wants information he’ll have to board and question,” Erik said grimly. “Gives us the perfect excuse to do the same to them. I want to know what he knows, if we have to twist it out of one of them in Phoenix confinement.”
“Now we’re talking,” Kaspowitz agreed.
“Incoming Fleet transmission,” said Shilu, and put it up without asking.
“…approaching chah'nas warship is merely questioning the insystem freighter Abigail on Fleet authority,” the voice was saying. “No prisoners will be taken, I repeat, no prisoners will be taken. Authority is given for logistical considerations, and the chah'nas vessel has given assurances that all Abigail crew will be treated with the proper courtesy.”
“Someone’s upset,” Shahaim growled. “I bet a bunch of them don’t like it, command has to make that transmission to shut them up.”
“This is just strange,” Kaspowitz said grimly. “Since when do chah'nas get this liberty in human space? Something’s changed.”
“Whole bunch of people out here tiptoeing along the edge of mutiny,” Erik agreed. “It’s not just us. Damn right something’s changed.”
They waited. Tek-to-thi dumped velocity and merged with Abigail’s position. The frantic com broadcast stopped. No Fleet vessels moved to assist. The bridge crew were brought coffee and a sandwich as they waited. One of Engineering’s warrant officers wanted some extra time to collect a useful fabricator from the rock. Erik turned him down, as the others came aboard. PH-1 hovered off stern from the repair job, ready to haul the suited techs inside if they had to move, and Trace told him that she, three of her Command Squad, and Second Squad from Echo Platoon, were in position in the mid-ships combat dock.
Then they waited. Erik tried to stop his racing thoughts, and keep his heart rate under control. Waiting was the worst thing ever. A marine had told him once that when Trace was a young Lieutenant, and higher ranks had access to her suit’s vitals, they’d once found that while waiting for a big assault, her heart rate was actually slower than her usual low level. Erik wondered what it was doing now, and thought probably the same — almost comatose. She meditated, of course, like all Kulina. Apparently it worked, though he had no idea how. He only knew he’d give anything to be able to just turn it off, like flipping a switch, as she seemed to do.
Five minutes short of Rooke’s ETA, Tek-to-thi began to move. “I’m reading a one-G thrust,” Geish announced. “Nothing big, he’s just cruising.”
“If he leaves,” Shahaim said urgently…
“He won’t pulse so close to another ship,” said Erik, mouth dry. Another channel. “Rooke! How long?”
“Two minutes LC!”
“Two minutes on the clock?” No reply. “Rooke dammit, two minutes on the clock, call it!”
“Aye LC, two minutes on the clock! Mark from now!” The timer started.
“Two minutes on the clock!” Shahaim announced.
“Helm, condition red. All hands battle stations.”
“Aye condition red, all hands battle stations!”
The alarm sounded. Erik gripped the controls more firmly, and adjusted the arm braces as they pressed to his elbows. The seat actuators shifted and kicked, like an old warhorse waking up, smelling battle ahead. He opened more uplinks, and found ship systems opening across his inner vision, doubling against the screens — his own personal Head Up Display on his irises.
“LC, is it worth it?” Shahaim asked.
“We’re strategically blind out here,” said Erik. That, he hated most of all. “We don’t know what the hell is going on, but my Uncle Thani says whatever happened to the Captain was tied up with our alien allies, and now we’ve got chah'nas violating all established rules in our pursuit. Someone gave him permission to do this, and come after us, and I want to know who and why.”
Operations showed him everyone still off-ship now pouring back aboard through mid-ships, behind the rotation cylinder. They wouldn’t have time to get back to gravity, and would have to ride the next bit with the engine techs down back. Flight systems showed green, attitude control, main engines, nav, weapons, scan, com… he tried to stop his hands shaking on the controls, one false twitch and he’d hit the attitude jets and blast the techs outside tumbling into deep space. Those guys had to be sweating bullets, knowing that one false move from them or their LC could see them left behind or worse…
“Still pushing one-G, no change!” said Geish.
“Get ready in case we surprise someone,” Erik told him. “Could be someone running dark real close.”
“We’re done!” yelled Rooke. “Everyone clear, get clear now!” Erik saw the drone feed, suited figures hitting full thrust away from Phoenix, into the open cargo door of the waiting shuttle.
He gave it another five seconds, then hit undock and kicked them away from the rock with an attitude blast that knocked them sideways, such were the unpredictabilities of course-correction in a rotating cylinder. “PH-1,” he announced, “departure at one-G, make it fast.”
“Copy LC,” came Lieutenant Hausler, the shuttle pilot. “We’ll be following.”
Erik hit thrust and kicked them back in their seats. He needed space between him and the rock before he pulsed. Fifteen seconds later and PH-1 was chasing them, and Erik lifted thrust to 2-G as the shuttle roared at 4, reeling them in. Shuttle feed showed him a brief 5-G, ETA ten seconds, then Hausler cut power and let their velocities equalise just as he crashed the shuttle into the midships grapples and locked tight. Hell of a move, it reminded him of just how good you had to be to get a spot on Phoenix in the first place, and his confidence surged.
“PH-1 is onboard!”
“Phoenix is leaving, jumpline startup all systems green,” said Erik, watching the powerup. If Rooke’s repairs were off by a fraction and something blew now, they were finished.
“All green, all good!” Shahaim called.
“Target locked!” Kaspowitz confirmed.
“Let’s get that fucker,” said Erik, and hit the pulse…
…and everything stretched…
…and stretched…
And snapped back to reality, and they were racing, like a stone from a slingshot. Erik hit mains hard, and pushed them at 7-G… only four seconds until the chah'nas saw him, four seconds more for him to see their move… not fast enough, and he hit the pulse again…
…and emerged truly flying, Nav projecting all kinds of alarming rocks and obstacles that now dopplered and were a struggle to see at this velocity…
“Contact!” Geish shouted. “One mark at 288 by 30 nadir! He’s seen us, he’s coming about to pursue!” That was a silent runner, one of those they hadn’t seen, and thank god it hadn’t been any closer when they’d run…
“Arms!” said Erik. “A shot past the target’s side! Do not fire at anyone else unless fired upon!” A thump as Phoenix fired, reaction-powered rounds that would keep accelerating at 30-Gs for another few minutes, a necessity with FTL warfare where the danger of overtaking your own ordinance was very real.
“He’s running!” Geish called. “He’s running hard! Heading nadir, 10G thrust!” And here was where the trap worked — Phoenix had been outer-system of Tek-to-thi, meaning the chah'nas couldn’t run directly away from Phoenix, or he’d be heading straight into the star. To jump away, he had to head nadir or zenith — and starships didn’t turn corners easily, jump engines could gain or lose you instant velocity, but course correction took time. “He’s pulsing!”
“Incoming fire!” called Jiri. “He’s shooting at us!”
“Arms,” Erik replied, “let him have it.” More thuds, and the rapid whine-and-rattle of reloads.
“Defensive is outgoing,” Harris announced as Phoenix’s defensive fire pumped rounds into the path of the chah'nas’ incoming.
“Course correction!” Erik swung them full sideways and hit the full 10-Gs as everything thundered and shook. He could barely move the hand controls at these Gs, but with uplinks and finger buttons it didn’t matter. Their course shifted a fraction of a degree, then another. Something blew up in their path in a mass of blurred static, then flashing past — incoming ordinance hitting Phoenix’s defensive fire and detonating. No way the chah'nas had enough defensive weaponry to do the same to what Phoenix was pumping in his direction…
“He’s pulsing again!” Geish announced on uplinks, unable to use his voice in this thrust. “He’s dodging our fire!”
That was a mistake. Tek-to-thi shot away from them once more, giving Erik an opportunity to straighten out briefly and… “Arms! Target all to dorsal, we’re gonna come out right on top of him!”
All weapons swung that way, and Erik hit the pulse even harder than the chah'nas… and tore after him, closing with deadly speed as Arms put down a spread of preemptive defence… then dumped velocity right on top of him, spinning to put him in the dorsal arc as all weapons fired…
Multiple flashes on scan, fireballs from which Tek-to-thi emerged pinwheeling like a thrown stick, shedding pieces as it went. “Got him!” Karle announced between fear and excitement. “Got him hard, he’s spinning!”
“Disable!” Erik shouted. “Proximity disable! Get his guns!” More thuds as Phoenix’s close range cannon opened up on the spinning vessel… they were real close now, full visual, no more than a few kilometres and Armscomp could calculate that like shelling peas. More flashes across the ship’s nose and flanks, then a big flash as proximity warheads from a missile battery shredded the chah'nas’s dorsal emplacements.