“Over four hundred gravities” said Derrick in a hushed voice. “And if those compensators go down we’re smashed to nothing.”
The view showed them curving around the moon, then heading directly toward the gas giant. They began to curve around the monster planet, using its gravity well to sling shot the ship and pile on even more velocity.
“Daedelus,” said Patrick, pulling his head out of his hands. “Show me the enemy ship we killed.”
“Acknowledged,” said the ship. The view switched back to the enemy battleship, now wreathed in flames and white hot metal, falling toward the surface, which loomed ever closer. Then the terminal fall, and the ship hit the ground with a flash of light. That light engulfed the city which was only about thirty kilometers away, and Patrick knew that the municipality was dead, along with all its residents. He buried his face back in his hands as the horrible image continued to play in his head.
“That’s what you get, you primitive,” said Derrick, standing up and walking to stand over Patrick. “You shouldn’t be playing with things you don’t understand.”
Alyssa was again at Derrick's side, putting a hand on her subordinate’s shoulder, trying to keep him from a conflict. “He's right Patrick,” she said.
The Monk looked up at the woman, feeling even more hurt coming over him. “Not you too,” he said in a choked voice.
“I don’t echo his sentiments exactly, Patrick,” said Alyssa with a small smile. “But I do think you need to learn more before you start leading spaceships into battle.”
“We are now on a course out of the system,” said the ship. “I would suggest throttling back on the acceleration.”
Patrick looked up at the viewer, not really sure what he wanted to do. He knew they had to go to the control center, though he was unsure what they were going to do when they got there. But he was almost afraid to give any orders to the ship, anxious lest such commands lead to further disaster.
“Are we still under fire?” asked Alyssa when Patrick wouldn’t say anything.
“The enemy ships are still hitting us with lasers,” said the calm voice of the ship. “The range has opened to the point where the beams are attenuated, and are causing no damage to the hull, though they are pumping heat into my internal systems. They have also fired fifty-three missiles at us, but we are distancing them, and they will pose no threat.”
Patrick heard the words, but they meant little to him at the moment. As long as they weren’t being damaged he really didn’t care what the enemy ships did. And why were they the enemy? Because their enemies rescued him for their own purposes? Would the Republic have done the same to his planet if they had the overwhelming force here, and the Theocracy had captured him?
Something rubbed against his leg and he looked down at the beautiful animal that, according to his perceptions, had started this whole thing. He reached a hand down and stroked the beast, which let out a deep rumbling purr, and wondered how such an animal could serve an evil master. Then he remembered the good beasts he had known on his world that were servants of bad people. They would serve whomever raised them and treated them well, and sometimes even those who treated them poorly. Just because a good beast served someone didn’t mean that person was worthy.
“Again,” said the ship in its quiet voice, “I suggest that I be allowed to throttle back on the engines before the heat buildup of the inertial compensators cause damage to the systems.”
“Patrick,” said Alyssa as the man continued to ignore the ship. “Patrick.”
“Compensators have reached critical temperatures,” said the ship. “Initiating emergency throttle down of all engine systems. We will continue at thirty gravities.”
“How long before you can get back up to high thrust?” asked Alyssa, her eyes locked on Patrick.
“I will be able to periodically increase acceleration for brief periods over the next couple of days,” said the ship’s calm voice. “But I will not be able to appreciably increase acceleration until I shut down for approximately twelve hours to cool my systems and effect repairs.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” said Derrick, frowning.
“Not good at all,” agreed Alyssa, looking back at Patrick, who had landed them in yet more trouble with his ill advised orders.
Patrick could hear them talking, even knew what they were talking about. But the melancholy that had come over him was almost paralyzing.
“Daedalus,” said Alyssa, still staring at Patrick. “At our best acceleration and turnover, how long to the control center?”
“Approximately eighty-eight hours,” answered the ship.
“And considered a start from rest and an acceleration at thirty-three gravities, how long till the ships in orbit around the moon also reach the control center, assuming turn around and deceleration?”
“Approximately ninety-seven hours,” said the ship.
“Shit,” said Alyssa, looking over at Derrick. “Unless we can get some more acceleration out of this ship, we’ll only have nine hours before they catch us at the control center.”
“Yeah,” said Derrick, closing his eyes. “And that assumes a lot. Like they don’t try and overtake us and just blow us out of space. Or that we can actually get into this command center without it blowing us out of space.”
“We can just hope that they want this ship intact or access to the place we’re going to,” said Alyssa. “If so, they have to turnaround and decelerate, and if so they will come in nine hours behind us.”
“I have an incoming communication,” said the ship. “From your opponents.”
“Put it on the viewer,” said Patrick, perking up in his seat.
“Oh shit,” said Alyssa as the figure appeared on the screen. “Double shit,” she said as the other figure appeared next to him.
Chapter Sixteen
Colonel Nathan Chung stared at the viewer with disbelief and it showed the smaller ancient ship total incapacitate a much larger battleship. He knew the ancient ship had superior technology. That much was apparent when it leapt forward with over two hundred gravities acceleration. His own ships hit it with lasers. It was too close to miss even with its acceleration. But the beam it emitted tore though the hull of the battleship like it was cheap furniture plastic. That was hard to handle. And now that Theocracy ship was dropping into the atmosphere of the moon, calls for help radiating out that could not be answered, to heat up and hit the ground at killing velocity.
“What the hell’s going on,” he yelled as missiles leapt from the other ships and homed in on the ancient vessel. “Get me the damned Admiral on the com.”
Moments later the harried looking Bishop appeared on the viewer, shouting orders to someone in the background.
“What in the name of the highest heaven do you want?” snarled the Admiral, his eyes glaring through the screen.
“I want to know why in the name of the tenth hell you are firing missiles at that ship?” answered Chung, returning the glare.
“They destroyed one of my ships,” said the Admiral, looking surprised at the question. “What did you expect me to do?”
“That ancient ship is worth more to us than all of your fleet combined,” said Chung, looking over at another view of the small ship pulling away from the missiles. “I expect you and all of your men to die in place to give us a chance at that tech.”
“Why, you mewling kitten,” growled the Admiral, his face reddening. “This is my command. I will not sacrifice my men to no purpose, and I don’t see the purpose of allowing that ship to destroy us.”
“Your men will die at my command,” yelled Chung into the com, watching in satisfaction as the missiles fell behind the ancient ship, which out accelerated them by three hundred gravities. The ship was heading straight for the gas giant, and he worried for a moment that it might have avoided the missiles to just run into the planet. But it started to curve around in an obvious slingshot orbit, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to the red faced Admiral.
“You and your men will obey me to the letter from here on,” he said in a low and dangerous voice. “If not, then I will report your actions to the Council of Theocrats, and we will see what action they take. I don’t suppose the result will be pleasant.”
“No,” said the admiral, his face still red. “I don’t suppose it will.”
Chung could feel the tension on his own bridge ratchet up as the Admiral stared out of the screen. Will he have enough balls to order us destroyed, thought Chung, the same thought that must be going through the heads of his own people. He was betting that the man wouldn’t. Betting the lives of himself and his own crew.
“Very well,” said the Admiral with puffed out breath. “What are your orders?”
“We will follow that ship,” he said, watching the other holo that showed the ancient vessel separate from the gas giant and go on to a heading that would take them to the inner part of the system.
“But we’ll never catch her,” said the Admiral in a voice that rose to a whine. “Our ships can’t accelerate like that.”
“We will still follow, and hope that providence supplies the means to catch her,” said Chung, looking into the Admiral’s eyes. He looked back for a second, at the prisoner he held, the brother of the primitive that had allowed the Republicans access to that ship. He looked back at the Admiral. “Get prepared, while I play my ace in the hole. Chung out.”
The Admiral went away before he could say another word, and Chung smiled as he thought of how he had seized complete control of this expedition. Then he looked back at his prisoner. “Come here,” he ordered, and the man got out of his chair. “I need you in sight for this next call.”
* * *
“Well,” said the voice of the big man on the screen. “I thought it might be you I was facing. I didn’t really get a good look at you down at the Monastery.”
“It’s me, you bastard,” said Alyssa, her hackles rising. “And I’m the one that beat you today. Remember that.”
“But the game isn’t over yet,” said Chung, glancing at the man standing next to his chair.
Alyssa looked at that man as well, noting a very strong resemblance. She looked over at Patrick and it came to her, and her heart sank in her breast. That’s his brother, she thought, and realized that Nathan Chung was not going to arrange a happy reunion without a cost they would not want to bear.
“So, you are Patrick?” said the big man, a cold smile on his face as he looked over at the Monk. “You have the lives of a cat. One of these days I will finally finish you.”
“What the hell do you want?” asked Patrick, glaring at the man. “And what do you intend to do with my brother?”
There was a several second delay as the transmission went back to the Theocracy ship and a reply made its way back across the distance.
“I intend to do nothing to your brother,” said the Colonel, putting a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “He will be free to go. That is, if you turn that wonderful ship around and give it to me.”
Alyssa looked at Chung with a feeling of horror, then back at Patrick, who was doing his best to look stoic, and failing miserably.
“And what if I don’t deign to do so?” asked Patrick, a sick expression on his face. “I don’t see why you bloody bastards should get your hands on anything that might help you.”
“Then I’ll come straight to the point,” said the big man, his hand dropping from Sean’s shoulder and pulling the brother’s hand up into view. “Give me the ship, or your brother will end, right here, right now. And it won’t be pleasant.”
With that, he grabbed one of Sean’s fingers and began to bend it back. Breath hissed out of Sean, who from the look in his eyes was obviously under some kind of compulsion. The hiss turned into a grunt, then a scream as the finger bent to an unnatural angle with a cracking sound.
“Wait,” said Patrick, reaching a hand out, his nerve seeming to completely break.
He’s going to order the ship to turn around, thought Alyssa, feeling the tension mounting in the bridge. And Chung will take us, and wring every bit of information out of us, before making us his slaves. If he doesn’t kill us first. Alyssa knew she couldn’t let that happen, and tensed to make a move.
“Patrick,” said Alyssa, looking at the Monk with tears coming to her eyes. “I order you under code words Archimedes Alpha Twelve to not say a word. You are under my control.”
Patrick blinked his eyes and looked at the agent with a confused expression that slowly turned into a frown. “I’m afraid you don’t have that control over me anymore,” he said in a quiet voice.
“How?”
“The ship found your compulsion implant while it was upgrading my systems,” said the Monk, a different hurt expression coming into his eyes, this one of betrayal. “It deactivation the module, while making sure you would not know.”
“This is all very interesting,” said Chung over the com, grabbing Sean’s broken finger and pulling on it, bringing forth another grunt of pain. “Now how about we concentrate on the business at hand, and you order that ship to come back here to me.”
Patrick glared at the man for a moment, his lip trembling, looking like he was trying to hold back a reply he wanted to throw in the man’s face. He looked down at his feet, then back up at Chung.
“Ship,” said Patrick, pain in his eyes, as well as confusion and indecision. He stopped for a moment, looking around, then opened his mouth to say the words that would doom them all. “Daedalus.”
“No,” yelled Derrick, out of his chair in an instant and closing the distance with a quick lunge. His large right fist smacked into Patrick’s face on the left cheek, followed by one overhand left into the right upper side of the Monk’s skull.
Patrick had started to get up from his seat as he was getting ready to give the ship its orders. The one two punch knocked him back into his seat. Derrick threw another blow, but this time the Monk, despite his unfocused eyes, was ready. A block slid the punch away, and Patrick was on his feet in an instant. He blocked the flurry of punches the ex-marine threw at him, then leaned back and sent a limb blurring side kick into the man’s stomach. Derrick fell back with a grunt, staggered a few steps, then plowed back in.
Alyssa knew that Derrick couldn’t win this fight. The Monk was a fighting machine, and he now had enough control over his strong body to be a real threat. Derrick was trying to keep the man from giving an order that would send them all to their doom. The Monk hadn’t been able to voice a command, yet. But she also knew that he could do the same with a mere thought.
Shadow, she thought at the cat, who was prowling restlessly at her feet, caught up in the excitement. Hit him with a sleep scratch.
The cat meowed and looked up at her. She could feel the confusion in the animal. This was a friend, someone who had given him a good petting, that he had lain down and slept with. Someone whose life the big Tom had saved on several occasions. And now he was being asked to attack the man.
It’s for his own good, she thought back. Otherwise, he will hurt us and hurt himself.
The cat gave out another sad meow, then turned toward the man and scampered in his direction. Derrick was trying another attack, and was getting pummeled for his efforts. Alyssa thought that her partner might be killed if this went on much longer. Already his face was swelling, and he was holding one arm kind of gingerly at his side, when he wasn’t trying to use it to strike despite the pain it was causing him.
Once the cat had accepted his instructions he hadn’t hesitated. Shadow struck in his typically efficient manner, claws pushing through the skin suit at the left calf and into the flesh of Patrick. He only injected the sleep drug from the proper claw, enough to knock out two men the size of Patrick. Patrick winced, then swung his leg back to strike the cat. The heel of his left foot caught the animal in its chest and lifted it from the floor to fly through the air. The next move Patrick made was to fold up on himself and fall unconscious to the floor.
Alyssa ran ove
r to Shadow, who had hit the wall and fallen down to the floor, where he lay with a plaintive meow. She squatted by the cat and ran a hand over his body. He meowed in pain as her fingers gently touched his ribs, and she looked through the quantum connection to feel the pain that was coming from his side.
“You’ll be OK,” she said, looking down at the cat with her hand touching his side. “We’ll get you fixed up.”
“Son of a bitch,” yelled Derrick.
Alyssa turned to see her subordinate kicking the downed Monk, while cradling one arm in the other.
“Derrick,” she yelled back, picking up the cat and standing. “Stop that. Right now.”
“But the son of a bitch broke my arm,” said the ex-marine, his face screwed up in anger and pain.
“And we still need him,” said Alyssa, giving her subordinate a steady gaze. “We’ll get you and Shadow fixed up, and go on from there.”
“I hate to interrupt,” said the voice of Nathan Chung over the viewer. “But I guess that Patrick is in no shape to alter your course. So it is up to you to do so.”
“I don’t have command of this vessel,” said Alyssa, nodding her head toward the limp form of Patrick. “He does. But he’s not about to give any commands for a while. So you’re just shit out of luck.”
“Then I guess this one is also, as you say, shit out of luck,” said Chung.
He put a hand on Sean O’Hara’s head, gripped his shoulder with the other hand, and twisted. Sean struggled for a moment, but his muscles, molded on his low gravity home world, were not up to the task of resisting the power the heavy G world dweller could generate. With a snap the neck broke, Sean’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he went limp.
“We will be seeing you,” said Chung, and the com went dead.
“Ship,” she said, looking at the dead area that converted to a view of the star field. “What is our heading?”
“We are on a heading to the control center in orbit around the black hole,” said the ship in its maddeningly calm voice. “Is the commander well?”
Theocracy: Book 1. Page 18