"Crystal, sir, we're moving."
I can see most of his troops on the move in the heads up display on my suit. Yeager is already sitting in the gig when I get there, getting the systems fired up. One jump, I am in my seat, and get strapped in without making him wait too long.
"Hills to the east, or plains to the west, your preference for better strategic position?" Yeager has more ground combat experience than the rest of Yorktown's crew combined.
He doesn't pause this time, his gravely voice a nice hard edge to it. "West. Distract them from the LS as it bugs out if the bad guys start heading that way."
"Agreed. Let's get airborne, find us a good spot. I'll run the sensors."
"Affirmative."
No pause as he lifts us off the ground, raising a cloud of dust that will only make the site look more suspicious if whoever it is gets here too soon. Can't be helped. The only good part is that they've hammered two corvettes to date, they know the footprint, so they'll recognize the signature here if they look. Might help Shel get away if they're looking small.
From 10,000 feet, both of us see a different hideout north of our position on a mesa of sorts, a couple kilometers in diameter. We hang in the vicinity, trying to be where an active radar will mistake us for rock.
We watch the LS get up, not more than 500 meters above ground level and rocket toward the east. If they can get into the hills, plenty of nice spots to hide. I hardly breathe for the next 10 minutes until they've landed, my mark one eyeballs saying they went nearly 50 clicks out. No visible trail, but it shows on my infrared, so it will likely show for whoever's on their way.
Twenty minutes later, I decide that fortune has favored the foolish. No instrument I have can find any trace of the LS, though there's a circle in the dirt next to Trump that wasn't there yesterday, and the only thing in our universe that could make it is a corvette sized lander. Yeager and I land on top of our local mesa, kill all our energy sources, exit the ship and flatten ourselves on the back side of a small hill, trusting our suit sensors to find trouble.
And they do. Another five minutes and a ship falls from the sky, I'd wager 400 tons, pointy on both the front and back ends, with obvious thruster quads each side, and eight big, rotating thruster pods all around. Nothing like anything I have ever seen before, clearly not Hwang or Royal Navy, some pirate king out here is really teaching us a thing or two. The ship handles perfectly for the task at hand, conducting a search pattern, able to shift direction and velocity with remarkable ease at 90 degree angles by flipping the pods as needed.
Doesn't appear to be armed, but we're not chancing it. It loiters for about an hour, and then heads skyward again, exactly what it would do if it's mother ship was in orbit, and it came down on one pass, and left as mama came around for the second time. I take that to mean there hasn't been a confrontation between her and Yorktown, both from the timing perspective, and my possibly irrational belief that Shelby would have blown them out of the sky if they'd met broadside to broadside.
We wait another 30 minutes, guessing that they would be out of range, pop off the mesa and go find the LS. Easy to do, and with ample landing space right next to it, we try to limit our dust cloud on the way down. I get my pad out of the gig, tie it's comm system to the gig's system which has a much better antenna, and then we shut down everything that might give a space-borne adversary a means to find us. The one thing we can't do is camouflage our ships, a big camera will certainly find us if they look.
We get into the hatch, and carefully remove our armor and integrate it with the Marines' stuff already overflowing in the bottom deck. Hardly any room to move, there are boxes of unknown whatever taking up about half the normal space.
Nineteen folks on the LS when we got there, Palmer, two of his eight person squads, and the two LS pilots, both enlisted Marines. Yeager and I make 21. It's going to make for cozy living. Eight women, including me, 13 men. Most of the faces are filled with very un-Marine like looks when I step into the control deck, I am about to say something, then decide I should follow protocol a little.
"Lt. Palmer, sit rep."
"Sir, 21 souls on board. Consumables for at least 30 days, maybe 45 if we're careful, and not picky eaters. All our personal weapons are good to go, we've got three shoulder launched anti- aircraft missiles on board as well. We are planning a two person patrol to be outside at all times, with one of the missiles available, my sergeants are working on the details now. No information on status of Yorktown or Congress." He stops to think, I make him stop.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Folks, he forgot to mention there isn't a shower on board, and we're going to be pretty ripe by the time the rescue party shows." There's laughter, a good sign. "My orders to Commander Perez were to get Yorktown home and bring back the cavalry. They are still at least 18 hours from jumping, and if we assume a day to assemble back on Earth, a day to get to the jump point, and a day to get here, we're at least four days from seeing a friendly face."
"I recommend we do our surveillance from inside the LS, we don't need to waste the O2 every time someone leaves, or have to spend the time recharging our suits. Let's get them as close to full on stores as we can, and as ready to wear as we can, and keep them that way. Two crew on alert at all times if we need to get outside."
"Questions?" None now, probably just being Marines and not wanting to show weakness.
"Good. I'm starving, what's for dinner?"
I spend the evening finishing a history of the US Civil War that was recently discovered, written in the 1960s. Different perspective that what I've read before, and a more detailed account of various tactical errors and brilliance of the campaigns. Then I find an empty rack and get some sleep.
The next day is organizational and boredom. We get everything on the ship laid out and cataloged, preparing for a long stay, including the watch shifts. Everybody, including me and Yeager, will take our turns. Read a sleazy novel I had hidden away on my pad for my next leave, all full of vampires and witches. Sleep soundly for the first time in a while.
Morning dawns still stranded with 20 of my new best friends, and being a good captain, I stand in line to use the head like everybody else. My turn comes, but I barely get my pants down, much less start taking care of business, when my pad beeps at me. No matter how stunning I find the call sign, I make myself finish before reading the message.
It's a single packet transmission, heavily encrypted, a comm signal designed in the First Galactic to be both hard to intercept and hard to crack if it is. Total transmission is 1,024 bytes, with no more than 256 bytes of text. A couple more bytes of header information and the rest of the packet nonsense there to make it harder to decrypyt and decode if you don't have the key. Takes my pad five minutes to sort out, even though it's short.
YORKTOWN DEEP SPACE SILENT STOP CONGRESS ASTEROIDS STOP SEE U WHEN CLEAR STOP SUMMERLIN OUT
I let Palmer read it, then I read it to the ship. Now they have questions. And smiles.
"Hard to know exactly, but my guess would be that Yorktown spotted them, they didn't see her, so Commander Perez left orbit, and is drifting out there with most power shut down, waiting for the bad guys to depart. Then they'll be back for us. And, maybe I'll have to court martial the Commander when they do. Congress must have taken the long way around into the asteroid field, and sent us the message from there. Now they'll go dark and wait as well. Better for them to take the risk of the transmission than the frigate."
One of the privates tries to be funny. "They're going to be plenty bored pretending to be an asteroid."
Palmer corrects him. "You've never served on a convoy corvette have you son."
"Uh, no sir." He didn't expect the boss to come back at him.
"Corvette captains hand pick their crews, seven folks, all young, fit, and energetic. I can't tell you exactly what they'll be up to, but boring it won't be. I met Lt. Summerlin and his team." A couple of the veteran Marines tell their stories of corvette life. I break down and tell mine.
<
br /> "The summer between junior and senior year at the Academy you do one month each on three ships. I got assigned as the co-pilot fill in for a sick crew member on a corvette guarding a convoy from Earth to the Montana system. They didn't expect me to play, but it's an awfully small space, and they didn't tone down one bit because I was there. Learned a lot that summer, even some things about how to pilot a ship." They laugh. The guy who started the whole thing looks like he's thinking of asking for a transfer to convoy duty.
Spend the day reading, and thinking of ways to clean my hair on a one liter daily water ration. Sleep soundly again, though the aroma is already starting to build on board. Fortunately, my pad starts beeping at 1300 the next day, while I'm having a delicious lunch of pre-packaged rations. They make me read it out loud. Okay, I'm the captain, they didn't make me, but I did anyway.
"ENEMY SHIP ON COURSE TO GAMMA OMICRON 6, LS LAUNCH WINDOW AT 1745, SEE YOU IN ORBIT, PEREZ. OUT." For the first time on this mission there's a cheer. I silently hope it's not the last.
Yeager and I get off the ground a half hour later, do a quick visual and instrument scan, then direct the LS back to the crash site. I do not want to leave without the evidence that's sitting there. The Marines are happy to only have to smell themselves inside their suits, and we perform the grizzly tasks of removing the bodies and sampling the blood stains, along with measuring and sampling the obvious weapons discharge points.
By 1715, we're still not done, but I put an end to it, making sure we're not going to miss the launch window. By 1745 the LS is locked and loaded. I give it clearance to go, the Marine aviators hit the thrusters and they climb out rapidly, Yeager and I trailing, providing cover of a sort. By 1820, we're happily docked with Union Starship Yorktown. By 1900, I'm showered and changed, and floating in my ready room with my senior team, minus Summerlin who will meet us en route. Five gigantic smiles floating across from me wearing light blue uniforms, and one in dark green.
"Thank you all for violating my orders, it was really starting to smell." They laugh a polite laugh. Then I get to business.
"What do we know?"
Shelby flips on my screen and ties her pad to it. "This is the ship that went into orbit, photos from the drone. We've identified her as Brazil system based cargo ship Orion, went missing on a routine mission to Omicron Theta 29 months ago, no escort, investigation found nothing. We have her blueprints on file, quarter inch steel hull, 240,000 tons empty."
"Orion sent several of an unknown type of vessel to the mining station on planet, we assume to collect the iron ore being produced. She broke orbit 14 hours ago at 1.8 gee acceleration, we calculate she's on a moderate fuel consumption trajectory to planet 6, four days transit time."
"There have been engineering modifications to Orion, she barely shows on passive scans, we can follow her now because her engines are powered and we're facing her tail. When she goes to coast, we may or may not be able to follow her to destination."
I nod.
"Mr. Ayala, anything?"
"No sir. We should follow and turn her into dust before she know's we're coming, but I'm happy with follow and find out what's going on."
"Understood. Mr. Garcia?"
"I've plotted several different course options for us to follow, assuming you'd want to stay silent. On your pad now, sir."
"Thank you. Mr. Powell?"
"Still no joy on engines 2 and 4, preparing another possible work around. Otherwise, we're fully functional, Skipper."
"Keep at it, I know you'll get it. Update me when you get a chance." She nods. "Mr. McAdams?"
"Sir, we're hypothesizing a base on Gamma Omicron 6. Weird energy readings emanating from there, we'd thought they were the mining station at first, but digging deeper there are sub- frequency signals not from standard power units. No possible way to estimate numbers and strength."
"Understood, just as blind as we always are. I want you to gather details of every unexplained ship gone missing within the 24 closest sectors over the past 48 months. Look for any patterns."
"Aye, sir." I got the chance to light the bulb over her head, her blue eyes sparkle for a second with the possibilities I've suggested. Most officers her age would pretend that they saw it, she's mature enough to get after any suggestion from whatever source. Except Ayala, that is.
I call up the possible courses and we discuss the probabilities. Outbound, we want to stay in her baffles. If we are directly behind, thrusting toward her engines, we will be really hard to spot. Once they turn for braking, however, if we're still there we're all too easy to spot if they go active, and probably going to light up their passive as well, but we get a brief time delay to exploit depending on how far away we stay.
In the end, I gamble on them not initiating their turn until close to the time they start braking thrust, and pick a course which exactly follows theirs for three days before beginning a loop to get us ahead of them, but also ahead of the planet's orbital path. If we pull it off, we can stay invisible to them, not the other way around. Means staying at silent running for another four or five days, which will not excite the crew since it requires them to power down their pads for non- military use.
"Ladies and gentlemen, make it happen. Wheels up at 2122. Questions?" There are none, and they leave to get to work. Ayala and Shelby stay behind.
"Thank you, though I am supposed to convene a Court Martial now."
Wry, tired smile from Shelby.
"Mr. Ayala, take the con please." He nods, and heads out. Shelby doesn't say anything til he's gone and the door closes.
"I made a mess while you were gone."
"If that were true, I wouldn't be standing here."
"No, I'm not ready for this."
"Commander, do you remember my first six months on Ayacucho? Remember going to Brazil Three? Remember Seaman Baldour? Remember the incident with Coral Sea?" Get a smile out of her with the last one.
"Watch the bridge video, you were never that bad. If Summerlin hadn't been here, you'd probably still be on the planet. His plan."
"Which you were smart enough to take, after getting the ship onto a path for silent running. Your ship's in good shape, you accomplished your objective, and no one was injured. I'd say you did fine."
"Watch the video."
"Ok, I will, but Shelby, it doesn't change anything. I picked the people on this ship carefully, and while I am occasionally stupid, my personnel judgement never is. I have complete faith in you."
"Watch the video."
"Can we go run first? I need the exercise before we strap in."
"Fine."
"Call Palmer, see if he wants to join us."
I think she is going to hit me, then she thinks better of it and calls the lieutenant. We get a nice 45 minutes in before hitting the shower and finding the bridge.
I relieve Ayala and strap into the captain's couch, hair taking up half the bridge, but I'm leaving it alone. Course is available on my screen, exactly as we talked about.
"Mr. Garcia, course approved, engage on your mark."
"On my mark, flight plan approved. Acceleration in 14 minutes, 32 seconds."
There's no horn for 14:32, so she has to wait until 5:00 on the clock, then sound acceleration alarm. We're doing the three gees for 30 minutes plan which worked nicely before, before matching speed, maintaining the 16 hour head start Orion has for stealth purposes. I use the extra time to get a message off to Summerlin with the details of our little meeting.
The enemy is at 1.8 gee, projected based on their vector for a 20 hour burn. We're going to do a half hour at 3 gee, then 2.25 for 15 and half. When completed, both ships should go thrust zero at the same instant, at the identical velocity, Yorktown now the wolf, stalking, 30 million kilometers behind. I'd have preferred staying at three longer, closing the gap a little, but Powell prefers no more than 30 minutes above 2.3, and she's the boss when it comes to our engines. At least for now.
Finally, we're slammed back into our couches as Yorktown s
truggles toward three gees, hang there for our half hour, then relax as she settles comfortably in at 2 and a quarter. First break I turn the bridge over to Ayala, and acceleration ends with Perez in the big seat.
I join her from my ready room.
"Watched the video. Big chair fits you fine, just remember to show your people how much you trust them next time."
"Roger, that, Skipper." I send her off to sleep, and float over to the RISTA station.
"Courtney, show me how their signature changed when they cut engines." We run through each of her passive scanners.
"Except for the infrared, there are exactly zero emissions of any other form of energy we scan. No radio, nothing that indicates machinery, reactors, or electronic devices of any kind. And the infrared is at a level consistent with being solar reflection only, no internal heat sources."
Yorktown: Katana Krieger #1 Page 9