Rap-rap-rap.
Kip turned to the source of the sound.
“Oh, for the love of mittens,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Rap-rap.
Rising, she opened the hatch. “Good afternoon, Officer,” she said, presenting her friendliest smile.
“It’s a beautiful one, for sure,” replied the officer.
Kip flashed a glance at his name. Barton.
“I’ve got tickets to the hoverball game tonight,” said Officer Barton. He grinned again and leaned one arm lazily against the hatch.
Teeth that white should be illegal, thought Kipper.
“Oh?” she said aloud, keeping her face carefully neutral.
“I freely admit I asked De La Cruz first, but she doesn’t get off in time. She said you might be available.” Again with the smile.
Kip thought fast. A polite yes was more likely to get her off and away without further inspections or other delays. But she had to make it look real.
“Who’s playing?” she asked.
Barton rattled off the names of all four teams.
“Hmm,” she replied, nodding as though considering his offer. “Are the seats any good?”
“Are you kidding? In case you hadn’t noticed, sweetheart, I’ve got a bit of influence in these parts.” Barton grinned. “I grabbed the best the stadium has. Pick you up for pre-game drinks at 19:00?”
“I don’t drink,” said Kipper. She despised the nickname “sweetheart” almost as much as she despised Officer Barton.
“Coffee, maybe?” asked Barton. “Come on, you’re training as a pilot, right? You guys live on caffeine.”
“Coffee it is,” replied Kipper. “19:00. I’ll see you then.” Trying to imagine he was one of the little children at the hospital, she presented her friendliest smile. Then she closed the hatch and grunted, “Ack!” She hoped it wasn’t audible outside the ship. Barton, visible in her rear view screen, was still grinning, though, so all was well.
As well as it could be, considering what she was about to attempt. Kip shook her head and took her craft up, up, up, into the wide blue sky.
45
Near The Terran Moon
Aboard the Star Shark, Jess had felt a sudden chill in her belly. She hated when her gut knew things it shouldn’t.
Half a second later, her brother reported that Harpreet had commed them. Jessamyn reviewed the contents of Harpreet’s brief warning, cursing afterwards.
“It’s what we feared,” said Jess, raising her eyes from the message. “Lucca has sent a ship to destroy us.”
“Harpreet is herself safe, however,” said Ethan, “which is welcome news.”
Jess raised her eyebrows. “Since when are you a silver-linings kind of brother?”
“If we perish,” said Ethan, “it will be a relief to know one of our number survives.”
“Don’t forget about Kipper,” said Pavel.
“Hey, no one’s dead here,” snapped Jess. “Not even a little dead.”
“Not at present, miss,” replied the butler.
Jessamyn breathed out a heavy sigh and reached down deep for her inner captain. When she spoke, her words were calm and to the point. “Lucca’s sending a ship after us. An armed ship. We have a couple of hours. I want ideas. I want plans. Let’s go, people. I am not allowing another ship to be smashed up on my watch.”
“If past history is the best indicator of future performance,” began her brother, but before he could finish, Jessamyn cut him off with an angry glare.
“That’s it,” said Jess. “Ideas, now, or I swing this ship back to the Moon and leave you all there to face Armageddon without me or my ship.”
“The ship is the properly the property of Brian Wallace,” her brother pointed out.
“With respect, sir, possession is nine-tenths of the law,” said Mr. Zussman. “At least, on Earth.”
“Stop it!” shouted Jess. “We are facing a serious situation here and I want options. Do you want Lightning Boy to have our deaths on his head? Is that what you want?” She glared at her crew. She’d picked the right threat, oddly enough. It settled her crew in a way her other attempts had not.
After a moment’s silence, Pavel spoke. “The good news is, as far as Harpreet’s informant heard, my aunt’s only sending one ship after us.”
“All right,” said Jess. “That’s more like it. What are our other possible tactical advantages?”
“There’s our lack of weaponry,” said Pavel.
Jess narrowed her eyes and pinched her lips. “Thank you for the reminder, co-pilot,” she said, with admirable self-control. “What else do we have?”
The fugitive crew was silent.
“Specialist Jaarda,” said Jess, “would you please plot a course of evasive maneuvers given the possible launch locations associated with, um, the time of day Harpreet said the ship would launch?”
It was the best Jessamyn could come up with: guess where the enemy was coming from and use it to her advantage.
“So, there’s only one ship in pursuit,” mused Jess. “That’s our good news.”
“Oh, dear,” said Mr. Zussman, softly.
“What?” demanded Jess and Pavel, speaking at the same instant.
“I’ve just received a comm from a source I would trust with my life,” replied Zussman.
“And?” asked Jess.
“The person sent by the Chancellor to, ah, dispose of her nephew is unfortunately known to us all.”
“Come on Zuss,” said Pavel. “Out with it already.”
“I regret to report that the Chancellor has elected to send Vladim Wu.”
“Oh, shizer,” said Pavel.
Jessamyn’s fists clenched. She’d known. Or her stomach had known. She hated when it knew things it shouldn’t.
46
Siberia, Earth
Waiting was an occupational hazard for a man like Captain Vladim Wu. Wait for results, wait for messages, wait for summons to Budapest. Today he was waiting for something to pass: a storm front from the Siberian Steppe pummeled the launch site. Thus far, the storm had pushed his ground-assisted lift back by ten percent of what he considered his window of allowable delay.
He would not allow his window to reach one hundred percent, he had decided. Lucca wanted a clean kill. Something high enough above Earth’s atmosphere that it wouldn’t attract attention. Wu intended to deliver just that. The assisted lift was meant to allow him to face his opponent as far from Earth as possible.
He glanced through his ordnance once again and smiled. A smart man himself, he appreciated smart missiles. The laser cannons were unlikely to come into use, but he had insisted upon a ship with both types of weaponry. Because you never knew.
Another hour passed, with Wu attempting to regulate his thoughts through meditative exercises. But he didn’t want to meditate. He wanted to fight. Just him and the Chancellor’s troublesome, whining nephew.
Wu had no actual proof regarding the whining, but he found it helpful to picture the boy that way. Less of a victory for him, perhaps, to defeat a first-body with no experience in combat, but Wu was not looking for a well-earned victory. He was looking for a promotion back into Lucca’s good graces. And back into his status as a major. If a dogfight with a boy barely out of skin problems would give him those two things, he was fine with that.
“Major.”
A comm, at last.
“Captain Wu here,” he said, happy his former associates still made the mistake of addressing him by his previous title.
“We should have a brief window for your launch in seventeen minutes. With your permission, we’d like to ready for takeoff.”
Wu smiled grimly. “Proceed.”
Volunteering for this ridiculously simple assignment was the single smartest thing Vladim Wu had ever done.
47
Over the Atlantic Ocean, Earth
Kipper pulled the Artemis up until Madeira shrank into the sparkling sea, a small chain of islands strung like jewels on a necklace.
>
“Going somewhere, Kipper?” asked a friendly voice.
With an unfortunate lack of military decorum, Kipper squealed in shock. It was Sergeant-at-arms Jamie.
“Where did you come from?” asked Kipper.
“You’re not the only one who decrypted the message from Harpreet,” Jamie replied. “And I know you well enough to guess what you might be planning.”
“So you sneak on my ship and wait until I’m airborne to scare the shizer out of me?”
Jamie chuckled. “Listen to you, swearing like a Terran officer.”
Kipper glared. “You’ll make me late.”
Jamie shook her head. “I’m afraid it is my duty to do more than that.”
“You can’t force me to go back. I won’t. I have a duty as well. And that is to assist my crewmates aboard … aboard … I can’t remember the name of their current vessel. But this ship knows how to find them.”
“This ship is a beauty,” said Jamie. “It’s the prize champion in Lady Wallace’s stable, as it were. But it won’t get you where you want to go.”
“She’s capable of reaching the Moon,” replied Kipper, “and I won’t be going that far.”
“There’s capable and there’s capable,” said Jamie. “Her maneuverability will be very different once you’re in the upper atmosphere. You’ll have a devil of a time bringing her back in through re-entry without burning to a crisp as well.”
Kipper scowled and said nothing. She knew Jamie was speaking the truth.
“I’m a soldier, too, Kip. If you have to do this, I understand. But not in this ship.”
“I have no other ships, in case that escaped your notice,” snapped Kipper.
Jamie nodded. “Are you under a clear imperative to assist your crew?”
“Of course. I’m the superior officer for our mission. They are my crew and my responsibility. But it goes beyond that, Jamie. You know it does. Look at what Pavel’s been able to do in just a handful of days toward bringing Lucca’s government down for good. And Ethan Jaarda? You’ve met him. He’s a planetary treasure.”
Jamie narrowed her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I heard Harpreet say the same about you.”
Kip sighed heavily. “Whatever I am is light years apart from what Ethan is. He can’t be allowed to die. Not if I can prevent it.”
“Jessamyn is your friend as well,” said Jamie, softly.
“Yes,” replied Kip, her tone flat. “For all her faults, she is the best thing to ever come out of Mars Colonial Academy. I won’t leave her to die. I won’t leave any of them to die. Not if I can help.”
“I understand,” said Jamie. “And that is why you are going to do exactly as I say.”
Kipper raised one eyebrow in an unspoken question.
48
Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon
“How vulnerable are we to being detected through all potential means of tracking?” demanded Jessamyn.
“The ship’s tracker was removed before we left Earth, if that’s what you mean,” replied Pavel.
Jess shook her head. “Eth?” she asked. “What do you have for me, Specialist Jaarda?”
“It is unlikely we will remain undetected,” he replied. “The Terran government has monitors in near space to determine which areas require cleanup crews. They can use these to locate us even without a tracker.”
“Could we employ our former tactic of hiding in a debris field?” asked Mr. Zussman.
Jessamyn shook her head. “Only as a last resort. I don’t mind admitting now that we were very, very fortunate to escape in one piece last time. If we go into a debris field, I cannot guarantee we’ll come out again.”
“And we would still emit a considerable range of traceable signals unless we were to power down completely,” added Ethan.
“No power means just suit oxygen?” asked Pavel.
Jess nodded. “We can’t outlast Wu,” she said.
“Probably not,” said Mr. Zussman. “The Chancellor will almost certainly have placed at his disposal the most powerful, swiftest, and best armed vessel she has.”
“We might,” said Ethan, “dock at an alternate space station and then send the Star Shark away empty, on autopilot, as a diversion. It might give us time to comm for assistance from one of our number.”
Jessamyn frowned. “I won’t leave us stranded on a station. Besides, you said the other empty stations don’t even have oxygen. Trust me, you don’t want to die that way,” she said.
“If I might venture an opinion?” asked Zussman.
“Please,” replied Jess.
“I believe our safest bet is to continue to Earth with all possible haste.”
“It’s the best we’ve got,” said Pavel. He looked about as enthusiastic as someone who’d been told their birthday was being postponed indefinitely.
“Perhaps a few defensive strategies might be in order,” said Ethan.
“Well, specialist, if you’ve got any weapons in that hoverchair of yours, now’s the time to speak up,” said Jessamyn to her brother.
“I was thinking of the Jettison Protocol you once suggested—”
“Eth!” cried Jess, cutting him off before he could finish. “You’re a genius.” She turned to Pavel and Zussman. “I want an inventory of everything on this vessel that can be used as a projectile,” said Jessamyn.
“The ship’s completely projectile-free,” said Pavel. “Isn’t that pretty much the definition of ‘unarmed vehicle’?”
“Our captain is not speaking in regard to traditional weapons,” said Ethan.
“I most certainly am not,” agreed Jess, a slight grin accompanying her words.
Pavel looked from sister to brother and back again. “I’m not following you,” he said aloud.
“The captain is referring to a strategy she developed on Mars,” said her brother. “Which, regrettably, was not appreciated by the creators of Academy curricula.”
Jess snorted in laughter. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“So what is this strategy?” asked Pavel. “If mere mortals might be permitted to know?”
“The basic idea,” said Jessamyn, “is to use some fancy flying and a cargo dump to take advantage of the law of inertia.”
Pavel looked as if he were trying to remember what that was.
“In simplest terms,” said Ethan, “an object, once begun upon a trajectory at a certain speed, will continue upon that trajectory at that speed in the absence of additional forces.”
“And we’ve got one heck of a lack of additional forces out here in space,” said Jess.
“Still not tracking with you,” said Pavel. “Give me a ‘for instance.’”
“If I might be permitted?” asked Mr. Zussman.
“Please,” replied Pavel.
“If we were to release an object from the jettison hatch whilst in motion and then change our course suddenly, the released object would not change its course, having neither thrust engines nor any other means of altering velocity or direction.”
“Oh,” said Pavel. “I get it. So we shoot stuff out the ship—”
“Not precisely,” interrupted Ethan. “We have no ability to assist an object’s ejection beyond the slight push the jettison hatch produces to allow objects to clear the ship. We release objects; we do not shoot them.”
“Right. We release objects and then we come about as fast as we can.”
“It sounds pretty pathetic now that you spell it out,” admitted Jessamyn.
“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” said Pavel. “What else did the Academy refuse to allow you to do?”
49
Over the Atlantic Ocean, Earth
“You want me to fly this ship to North Africa?” asked Kipper.
Jamie shrugged. “For a good transport, it’s that or the Isle of Man, but the Isle of Man is swarming with Terran government officials. I’d suggest going with Morocco, myself. I know it better.”
“How much faster are these space transports than what I
’m flying right now?”
Jamie crossed her arms, frowning. “It’s a bit like comparing a rowboat to a powered ship at sea.”
Kipper sighed. “It will lose me time, the side trip. Are you taking that into consideration?”
Jamie nodded.
Kipper sighed again. “Right. Rowboat. Powered ship.”
“Exactly,” replied Jamie.
Which was how Kipper found herself flying to a facility that launched ships up to the junk retrieval contractors. When it came to standard flying within Earth’s atmosphere, Cameron’s Star Treader was fast: they would hardly lose a quarter hour by taking a turn to North Africa.
They landed in near silence, thanks to Cameron’s preference for low-noise emissions, and were soon sneaking toward a vessel that Jamie assured Kip would more than do the job.
“Nice weapons stash, too,” whispered Jamie, pointing to the ordnance.
“What does a junk harvest transport need with … never mind,” said Kipper.
The vessel was meant to transport personnel, probably important personnel, guessing by its compact size and considerable engines.
“She’ll do nicely,” said Kipper.
“Huh, did you see her name?”
Kip shook her head. “The registry is the least of my concerns at the moment.”
“She’s called Amazing Grace,” said Jamie. “Like the song the pipers play back home.”
“I could use some amazing grace,” replied Kipper. “Well, that’s everything. I guess this is goodbye for now.”
But when she tried to board the craft, they ran into problems.
“We’re locked out,” murmured Jamie.
“Locked out?”
“We’ll need a code to get in.” Jamie tapped a small pad beside the hatch.
“Where do we get this code?” asked Kipper.
Jamie looked behind them. “That office.” She pointed to the building near where they’d set down.
“This is wasting precious time,” said Kipper as they ran for the office.
“You’ll make it up,” said Jamie. “And then some.”
The office was dark and secured.
Striking Mars (The Saving Mars Series-5) Page 18