He started to roll towards the side table. It wasn’t easy to move with his hands bound behind his back, but he made it. The coffee mug Janet had brought him was still there, right on the edge of the table. Bracing himself, he forced his way up and tipped the mug over the side. It struck the deck and broke into more than a dozen pieces, some sharp enough to cut their way through duct tape. Somehow, struggling desperately, he managed to make enough of a cut in his restraints to pull his hands free.
Crap, he thought as he freed his legs. They’ll have locked down the entire ship.
William checked the terminal, just in case, but it was locked out of the datanet. The two datapads he kept in his drawer were active, yet they couldn’t establish a link to the datanet either. He swore and then recovered the pistol from his wardrobe. He headed for the hatch. Someone had scrambled the access permissions so thoroughly, he discovered, that even the captain’s override couldn’t open the hatch. Plus, there might well be a guard on the far side.
Damn it, he thought.
Despair threatened to overcome him for a long second. He forced the feeling aside as he headed for the maintenance tube and opened the hatch. The air inside smelled musty—someone had turned off the lights—but he recovered a flashlight from the emergency supplies and climbed into the hatch anyway. There was no point in hiding where he’d gone, but he still pushed the hatch closed behind him. It might just slow any pursuit down for a few seconds.
He crawled down the shaft and into an intersection. The lights were working, but the hatches that would have led farther into the ship were sealed. But they were designed to be opened from the inside, if necessary. He removed a multi-tool from the emergency kit and went to work, silently grateful for his odd career path. Captain Abraham probably wouldn’t have known how to jimmy the hatch if he’d thought to use the tubes to escape.
It occurred to him, a moment too late, that the mutineers might have left a guard in the tubes too, but it didn’t seem too likely. The senior chief couldn’t have subverted more than a few dozen crewmembers at most.
Some of the worst were rotated out when I took command, William thought. There was no one on the far side of the hatch. I must have crippled his planning, quite by accident.
He headed further down into the ship, thinking of his time on the Uncanny. He’d been impressed with the senior chief. Joel Gibson had seemed ideal, a surprisingly good man in a starship permanently on the verge of breaking apart. William had been relieved to have a competent man in the post. None of the officers had spoken badly of him, so William hadn’t bothered to look too closely. Yet, if he had, what would he have seen?
Most of the decay was cosmetic, William thought sourly. The senior chief had probably played a role in that too. Uncanny looked bad when I took command, but she was in working order.
The next set of hatches opened on command, taking him down towards Main Engineering and, he hoped, help. There was no point in trying to get to the militia. Marine Country could be completely sealed. William only hoped that the senior chief hadn’t tried to pump out the atmosphere and kill the militiamen. If Joel wasn’t bluffing about his plans to take out Lighting, William didn’t have very long to regain control of Uncanny.
He’s mad, William thought.
He shook his head in disbelief. It was easy to understand the resentment spreading through the crew, certainly prior to his assumption of command. Two-thirds of the starship’s crew had been assigned to Uncanny in lieu of dismissing them from the Navy. Many of the others were colonials who’d watched helplessly as others were promoted ahead of them. Captain Abraham had certainly done nothing to repair morale or turn his crew into a coherent unit; he’d been more interested in stripping the ship bare for a quick buck. Yes, William could understand why the crew had wanted to mutiny . . .
. . . But to plan to take over the sector?
He’s cracked, William thought. The plan was sheer lunacy. He has to be out of his mind.
He braced himself as he reached the bottom of the shaft. Main Engineering was just below him, but he knew he’d need help to take control. He couldn’t believe that everyone in the compartment, including Goodrich, was a mutineer. If that was the case, he was roundly screwed. Gritting his teeth, he opened the hatch and crawled out into the corridor. There was no one in sight. But the faint hum of the drives was steadily getting louder. Uncanny had to be nearing her destination.
If the engineering crew are prisoners, William thought, they’ll be kept in the wardroom closest to the department.
He slipped down the corridor and glanced around the corner. A young man was standing guard outside the compartment, cradling an assault rifle in his hands. William hated to think what Patrick Davidson or Major Lupine would have said about his stance—the man looked as if he was posing, rather than standing guard—but there was no time. He drew his pistol and walked around the corner.
“Freeze,” William snapped. He didn’t want to shoot one of his crew, but he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if there was no other choice. If William was recaptured, the senior chief wouldn’t leave him alone again. “Don’t move!”
The guard stared at him. William tensed—if the guard wanted to do something stupid, this was the ideal moment—as he walked up to the crewman and took the assault rifle. The crewman still looked shocked, horrified beyond words. William stepped back and motioned for him to open the hatch. The crewman paled but obeyed.
“Captain!” Goodrich yelled. He and a dozen other crewmen were lying on the deck, their hands and legs bound with duct tape. “Thank God!”
William nodded to the crewman. “Free them.”
The crewman swallowed, hard. “Captain . . .”
“Help us now and I’ll speak for you,” William said firmly. He wasn’t willing to make any other bargains, not yet. “Free them.”
He watched, in some relief, as the crewman went to work. As soon as the engineering crew was free, William ordered two of them to bind the crewman and leave him in the wardroom. He then led the remainder out into the corridor.
“They’ve taken Main Engineering,” Goodrich said. He sounded pissed. William was relieved. An angry man would be more helpful than someone who had given in to despair. “Captain, what are we going to do?”
“Recover the ship,” William said. He did his best to sound confident. “If we recapture Main Engineering, we should be able to lock them out of the control datanet.”
He passed Goodrich the assault rifle, then led the way down to Main Engineering. The hatch was unguarded, but sealed. Goodrich knelt down with a multi-tool and went to work. A moment later, the hatch hissed open. Five of the twelve stations were manned; William cursed as he realized that two of the mutineers were clearly engineering crewmen. The senior chief had had far too much time to turn the crew against him . . .
“Get away from the consoles,” William shouted, waving his pistol. “Keep your hands where I can see them!”
The mutineers stared in abject fear and did as they were told. William watched grimly as they were bound and gagged, then pushed into a corner. There was no time to do anything else with them.
“The system has been locked down,” Goodrich said as he bent over one of the consoles. He scowled. “It’s a pretty crude piece of work, Captain, but powering down the ship is probably impossible.”
“Shit,” William said.
A low rumble ran through the ship. The drive hum rose to a crescendo, then faded back into the background. He cursed under his breath as he realized what the sounds portended.
“I’ve got a link to the tactical display,” Goodrich said. A holographic image blinked to life in front of them. “Captain, we have arrived at Haverford.”
William swore again. Lightning was clearly visible on the display, holding low orbit over Haverford. Uncanny was flying right towards her . . .
Their time had just run out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“We didn’t know where the goods came from, Captain,” Govern
or Younghusband said. His voice was wavering between defiance and bitter resignation. “But we were in no position to ask questions.”
“I understand your position,” Kat said. She had been relieved, in some ways, to arrive at Haverford and find that the planet was not occupied by the pirates. Nonetheless, the discovery also forced her to play the heavy, threatening a planetary government that was in no state to stand up to a pirate vessel, let alone a genuine warship. “However, I must point out that accepting stolen goods is not conducive to your interstellar reputation.”
“I am aware of the dangers,” Younghusband said. “But I am also aware of the other set of dangers.”
“I understand,” Kat said. “We will be running patrols through the system on a regular basis.”
The two exchanged a few more polite formalities before finally ending the conversation. Kat groaned as she sat back in her chair, feeling frustration mixed with bitter guilt. Haverford was naked. Even a gunboat could launch punitive strikes that would bring the planetary government to heel, assuming the government dared to stand up to the pirates at all. Who could blame them for rolling over? Their population was terrifyingly vulnerable.
We just need to expand our convoy protections, she thought. Make it impossible for the pirates to actually get their hands on the loot.
Her intercom buzzed. “Captain,” Crenshaw said. “Uncanny just entered the system. She’ll link up with us in seventeen minutes.”
“Very good,” Kat said. “Invite Sir William to dine with us this evening. We need to plan the next set of patrols.”
“Aye, Captain,” Crenshaw said.
Kat took one last look at the terminal, then rose. There was little else they could do on Haverford as long as they weren’t staying in the system. The planetary government had no technological base and thus couldn’t operate even a small starship to protect its orbital space. Given time, Kat was sure, the pirates would move away as the pool of potential targets shrank, but there would be a great many uncomfortable days for vulnerable worlds before the threat was finally gone.
She walked onto the bridge. Uncanny was clearly visible on the display, her tactical staff running tracking exercises as she neared Lightning. Perhaps there would be time for a genuine exercise, Kat thought, as she took her chair. A proper war game would give both crews a chance to shine.
“Mr. Crenshaw, work out a plan for a war game,” she ordered. “We can stay in this system for a couple of days, I think.”
“Aye, Captain,” Crenshaw said.
“Weapons locked on target,” Thompson said. “Passive locks only; I say again, passive locks only.”
Joel allowed himself a moment of cold anticipation as Uncanny hurried towards her target. Lightning was holding station in orbit above Haverford, her shields and weapons down, her hull naked, defenseless. He’d run through the simulation a dozen times; if they fired from point-blank range, Lightning would have no chance to bring up her shields or return fire before his missiles slammed into her unprotected hull.
“Keep our shields on standby,” he reminded Thompson. “Bring them up the moment we open fire.”
“Aye, Captain,” Thompson said. “Ten minutes to optimal firing range.”
“Steady as she goes,” Joel ordered. “I don’t want them to see anything suspicious.”
“Aye, Captain,” Thompson said.
“We’re approaching Lightning,” Goodrich reported. “We’re already in missile range!”
“They won’t fire until they’re close enough to be certain of taking her out,” William snapped angrily. The senior chief would be at a serious disadvantage if he matched his undermanned ship against a fully manned heavy cruiser. His only hope was to strike as hard as he could from point-blank range. “We need to shut down the power network!”
“I can’t,” an engineering officer said. William hadn’t caught her name. “The command system has been scrambled!”
William entered his command codes. “No change,” the officer reported. “The network cannot be powered down. We’re locked out of the communications nodes too!”
Goodrich looked up. “We could physically shut down the fusion cores,” he suggested. “It would cripple the ship, but it would keep her from launching an attack . . .”
“Maybe,” William said. It would be risky as hell, too. “Can we bring up the tactical systems?”
“I think so,” the officer said. Her fingers danced over the console for a long moment. “But what will that do?”
William smiled. “Alert Lightning,” he said. “Bring them up. A full tactical sweep.”
“Aye, Captain,” the officer said.
The display flickered and updated. William braced himself. There was no way the senior chief would have risked using active sensors, particularly when he wouldn’t have needed them to draw a bead on Lightning. But an active sensor sweep would alert Kat Falcone that something was up. Uncanny had already fired on one friendly ship. Perhaps she would fire on another.
“Get a couple of guards up to the far end of the corridor,” he added. “They’ll know we have Main Engineering now.”
Thompson’s console started to bleep in alarm. “Captain,” he said, “we just ran an active sensor sweep!”
Joel started. “What?”
“Confirmed,” Julia said from her console. “Someone in Main Engineering just triggered the active sensors.”
“Shit,” Joel said. Someone had broken free? Who? He cursed as he pushed the matter aside for later contemplation. The plan had just failed spectacularly. “Fire! Fire now!”
“Aye, sir,” Thompson said. “Firing . . . now!”
“Captain,” Weiberg snapped. “Uncanny just ran a tactical sweep! She’s locked onto our hull!”
Kat froze, just for a heartbeat. No one in their right mind would run a tactical sweep as a joke. There was too much chance of triggering a tragic accident. Uncanny already had a reputation for friendly fire incidents. Had something gone badly wrong over there . . .?
“Raise shields,” she snapped. “Evasive action! Stand by point defense!”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said. His console bleeped as new red icons flared to life on the display. “Captain, Uncanny has opened fire on us!”
“Deploy decoys,” Kat ordered as sirens howled through her ship. Her blood ran cold. A few more minutes and there would have been no time to react before the missiles struck home. “Pull us back as hard as you can.”
“Aye, Captain,” Wheeler said.
“I have target locks,” Weiberg added. “Captain?”
Kat hesitated. What was going on over there? She couldn’t imagine William deciding to launch a barrage for a laugh. No, it had to be a systems failure . . . or what? Had someone else taken control of the ship? She could return fire; she could take Uncanny . . . but she had no idea what had actually happened. If she blew the ship out of space, she never would.
“Hold fire,” she ordered, finally. “Helm, keep our distance.”
She sucked in her breath as the missile barrage roared into the teeth of her point defense, dozens of icons vanishing as they were picked off, one by one. Whoever had programmed the assault hadn’t done a good job, she noted; they’d fired too many antimatter missiles in a single barrage. The missiles were so bunched up that one missile being picked off tended to take out several more, setting off a chain reaction. The attacker clearly intended to hit her before she could react.
“They’re locking onto our hull,” Weiberg reported. “I . . .”
Two missiles slammed into the shields. Kat braced herself as the ship rocked, then let out a sigh of relief as the shields held. Lightning hadn’t been damaged . . .
. . . but she was still left with one hell of a mess. If Uncanny had gone rogue, she had to be stopped, yet she didn’t know that Uncanny had gone rogue.
“Keep a sharp eye on her gateway generator,” she ordered as Lightning drew back from her sister ship. “If there’s a hint she’s preparing to jump into hyperspace
, inform me at once.”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said.
“Captain,” Crenshaw said, “there were pirate prisoners on that ship.”
Kat blanched. Could the prisoners have escaped? It was possible, she supposed, but weren’t they supposed to be on the colonist-carrier? Where was the colonist-carrier? Had something happened in hyperspace, forcing William to take the prisoners onboard Uncanny? Or was the carrier just waiting in hyperspace until Uncanny confirmed the coast was clear?
“I know,” she said. “If they’re in control of the ship, Mr. XO, we can’t take the risk of letting them escape.”
“Lightning’s not shooting back,” Goodrich said.
“That won’t last,” William said grimly. “Captain Falcone will know this ship has gone rogue.”
He glanced at Goodrich. “Destroy the power conduits,” he ordered. “Throw the entire ship back on battery power.”
“Aye, Captain,” Goodrich said. “But that’ll take down the shields!”
“I know,” William said. If Lightning returned fire, Uncanny was doomed. But that was true in any case. “See to it.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Roach had been on the bridge, he recalled, when William had been stunned. No doubt he was a prisoner too now . . . If anything happened to William, command authority would devolve onto Goodrich. The mutineers had to be insane . . . no, they couldn’t all be insane. By now, they had to know they were screwed.
“I’m going to the bridge,” he said firmly. “I want you to cut the power, then concentrate on getting a signal out to Lightning. Tell Captain Falcone we need marines.”
Goodrich paled. “Aye, Captain.”
“And if they counterattack, concentrate on holding the compartment,” William added. “Hold it as long as you can.”
Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3) Page 34