Status Quo

by Drew Wagar

  Jim sighed, tiring of her constant outbursts. 'Can you park your attitude for just a minute? Galcop can make more bombs; they don’t need this one. It will alter the balance of power. It will mean war; bitter bloody war across every system. Do you know what this bomb will do if you detonate it near a planetary surface?'

  'No, what?'

  'It’s a cascade bomb.'

  'Are you saying it could cascade around a planet? Prak! It would wipe everything off the surface and…' she stopped, stunned by the thought, her imagination running wild.

  'Exactly. A war would mean the end of pretty much everything. I figure if everyone has the bomb it will be total chaos. Imagine a boy racer with one of these, mind blown and out for a laugh.'

  'So what are you going to do? You can’t stop Galcop for ever, and you can’t give the tech away. You’re stuffed.'

  'I’ve going to do what any good techie does,' he said grimly. 'I’m going to give a demo.'

  'A demo?'

  'I’m going to detonate the remaining bomb over Lave’s moon at low altitude. The moon is covered in unmanned hydrogen processing plants, sucking in plasma from the sun on each orbit pass and refining it into Quirium. It will make a huge explosion, ripping the entire moon’s surface away. Just like that stupid vid series, do you remember?'

  'What, ‘Space: 2999’? I loved that show!'

  'It will scare the living goids out of everyone, but with no casualities. People will see what this bomb is capable of. I’m trusting that fear, awe and dread will do the rest. I’ll back it up with a recorded announcement to be broadcast on wideband. The news stations will relay it everywhere. Everyone needs to know about this. We need to preserve the status quo.'

  Rebecca stared at him. 'You really are mad! And what about the assassin?'

  'If we see him, you get to kill him. We’ll see how dangerous you really are.'

  'Don’t get cute.'

  'Will you help me, Dangerous?' Jim was enjoying her discomforture.

  Maybe I should slug him over the head again and get the frak out of here…

  But where would she go? She was as marked as he was, with no money, a fugitive ship, with a bomb that could be tracked anywhere. Even if she dumped it she wouldn’t get far. Without a credit account she had nowhere to go other than slavery. This situation had to be closed down one way or the other. Until it was, she had no life.

  'I must be prakkin’ mad,' she said bitterly. 'This whole thing is mad, and your plan is the maddest part of it!'

  'Yes or no.'

  'Yes, prak you!'

  'Then let’s get busy.'

  'It’s not so much a mis-jump,' she said a little later, far too glibly for Jim’s comfort, 'more a sort of un-mis-jump.'

  'Is this another one of those not-in-the-manual things I don’t want to know about?'

  Rebecca nodded, looking nervous herself, 'You got it in one, harmless.'

  'Let’s get it over with then.' This dark interstellar space was beginning to get to Jim. It was spooky. The clicking sound returned again; the wideband signal strength indicating it was really nearby now.

  Both of them hunched over the scanner trying to make sense of it whilst Rebecca's witchspace calculations finished compiling.

  'It's moved,' Rebecca breathed, 'It's getting closer! There is something out there heading this way!'

  'You're imagining things.' he said with a distinct lack of confidence in his voice.

  'No! Look!' she said, pointing at the viewer.

  There was something there, a vague shape, almost indiscernible against the black background of space itself. Both of them squinted, trying to make out what it was.

  'There's nothing on the scanner.' Jim said, 'Perhaps it's an asteroid or a dense gas pocket, a moon… '

  Whatever it was, it was growing bigger as they watched.

  Rebecca shook her head, 'That's no moon, it's a… '

  The scanner pinged.

  'God, I'm beginning to hate that sound!' Rebecca snapped. 'It’s always trouble!'

  Jim had already activated the ident computer. How could it be a ship, out here in interstellar?

  'Look! Two, three, no five, eight! Prak!' Rebecca called in alarm.

  The computer finished its scan.

  Thargoid Warship, variant three. Mass indeterminate. Speed .35 LM.

  Dots were appearing on the scanner, flashing green and red. Yet these represented small fighting ships barely visible on the screen. Behind them was the far vaster bulk of… something else.

  'It’s a Thargoid battle fleet! With a Thargoid mothership!' Rebecca yelled. 'Oh, for prak’s sake, how much bad luck can a girl have?'

  'Get us out of here, now!' Jim shouted, on the verge of panic. He'd heard stories about what the Thargoids did to captured human subjects. It didn't make for pleasant reading.

  Rebecca punched the hyperspace controls.

  Witchspace to Lave in 15 s.

  The Thargoid ships were closing fast. Their ghastly green and purple hulls glinting cruelly in the dim light. Green laser beams snaked across space towards them. Jim reached for the controls.

  'No! Don’t touch!' Rebecca yelled. 'We have to stay put! If you change heading or velocity now we’ll frag our jump!'

  Tensely they watched the countdown. It seemed to be taking a lifetime. Sitting here while eight Thargoid warships were bearing down on you…

  Eat raisins, leaf dwelling carpet salesmen!

  'Whatever those guys are on, I’ve got to try it,' Jim said nervously.

  Rebecca was staring calmly, almost dreamily, at the approaching ships.

  She actually wants to fight them! And she calls me mad…

  The Thargoids were approaching optimum firing range. Hurry up with that jump…

  Then the bottom dropped out of their universe.

  'Oooooo!' Jim cried out, panicking, wondering what was happening. His face was contorted in fear and apprehension. He grabbed the console in front of him. It was nothing like a normal witchspace entrance. The normally mild rollercoaster effect was a hundred times worse. It felt as if the ship was dropping into a black hole. Rebecca screamed too, but he couldn’t tell whether or not it was with fear or exhilaration.

  The witchspace tunnel flashed before them. On the other side, Lave awaited.

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 7

  A major component of the Galactic Navy was stationed in orbit around the moon of Lave. Four retrofitted military Anacondas, twelve military Asps and two full squadrons of Vipers, eight apiece.

  A few short kilometres across space were two other fleets.

  The Federation fleet was composed of six military specification Puma transports, heavily beweaponed with their new turret mounted military lasers. These were accompanied by their new fighter class ships, the Falcons and the Hawks. Ten of each, arranged in a wall formation.

  The Imperial fleet was no less imposing.

  Eight Imperial Couriers accompanied by their latest fighter craft, the Osprey. Twenty of the sleek, deadly ships, arranged in a delta formation. They looked vicious just holding station.

  In between them all, the witchspace marker drifted, deactivated. Lave was indeed closed for business. Galcop had switched it off once threats had been received that any ship entering Lave via witchspace would be destroyed.

  No ships could witch in from Diso, Leesti, Zaonce, Orerve or Reorte without the broadcast co-ordinates from the marker. Huge queues were building in those systems as traders, wishing to jump to the Lave system found they couldn’t get clearance to travel. Due to Lave’s location and importance as a major centre of commerce on many trade routes, the result was complete pandemonium.

  And stalemate.

  All of Lave’s Coriolis stations were recommending that docked ships remained docked and had advised all private craft still flying to dock or witch out until the situation resolved itself.

  If it did.

  The word was on everyone’s lips, probosces and jaws across thousands of systems.

>   War.

  Only one person seemed to be pleased about it all. It made Anna Mereso’s career at the Tionisla Chronicle.

  Yet not a single shot had been fired. There had been no communication. Everyone was waiting for the first move to be made.

  The commanders in each of the flagships could see the tactical displays, the multiple missile locks, the vector analyses. The situation looked grim.

  The blockade was in force. The Galnavy Admiral had not received orders to reopen the jump point although he knew it was only a matter of time. The tactical simulations did not look promising. The turret-mounted guns on the Puma would make short work of his Viper squadrons. The Imperial Couriers were known ‘Asp-Killers’. His best avenue of attack was a long range bombardment with the Anacondas’ combined missile compliment, followed by an energy bomb barrage, but he suspected the Federation and Imperial Fighter craft would survive in enough numbers to defeat him.

  More ships were on their way, but it was likely that Federation and Imperial re-enforcements were going to arrive just as quickly. If they were to break this blockade, they would have to do it alone.

  The Admiral sat in the ship’s main wardroom, opposite an imposing figure. The Admiral wasn’t cowed by many, but the man opposite him controlled more power than just the combined weaponry of the fleet.

  'I will begin overtures immediately,' the man said. 'A war will be catastrophic for everyone.'

  'Surely an ambassador would be a better choice…'

  'Diplomacy has failed, Admiral. This is our last but one resort.'

  'Sir, it’s too dangerous for you to remain aboard; if we should be attacked, I cannot guarantee your safety.'

  'Admiral, if we fail to resolve this here, my safety will be the least of our worries.'

  'As you wish, Mister President.'

  The SuperCobra glinted in the half-light of witchspace. Rebecca’s hasty programming, rather than the more usual transmitted coordinates of a marker, were guiding the ship to its destination. She was using the old fashioned technique of ‘dead reckoning’, which used to be a common method back in the days of ‘far away’ jumps. The SuperCobra burst into real space a mere fifteen kilometres from the marker.

  'That was close.' Jim managed, swallowing to keep himself from being sick.

  'Not bad, even if I do say so myself. Escape from the Thargoids and back home in one neat move… ' Rebecca preened, turning to look at Jim with an ‘I told you so’ expression on her face. Jim didn’t return her look, he was staring at the main viewer.

  'What?' she asked, a bit miffed not to have received any congratulations.

  He merely pointed.

  Rebecca looked around and gasped.

  Arrayed across space in equidistant orbits of the witchspace marker and Lave’s small moon were ships of all kinds: Galcop, Galnavy, Federal, Imperial. She’d never seen so many military ships together before.

  'What the frag? It looks like a blockade; do you think they are all waiting for us?' she asked.

  'I don’t see how they can be. They can’t have known we were coming,' Jim replied. 'Anyway, we’ve no choice: head for the moon, full power, before we get intercepted.'

  'At least we’ll have a decent audience this time.'

  'This is the President of the Galactic Co-operative, representing the interests of the Galactic Co-operative, the Galactic Navy and the Sovereign system of Lave. We wish to negotiate the re-opening of the Lave witchpoint. Please respond.'

  The wideband transmitter punched the message across space. If the Federation and Imperial vessels heard it, they did not respond.

  'I don’t think they intend to answer,' the Admiral, 'Probably loading their missile tubes right now that they know you’re aboard. They will think we’re stalling for time, waiting for reinforcements.'

  'That is a consideration,' the President admitted.

  'Sir! Witchspace inbound!' called a scanner operative.

  The Admiral swung around. 'Whose is it?'

  'Ident shows a modified Cobra, sir! Acquisition marked as target gamma two. Out of range.'

  The President leant forward, 'Scan for gravimetric emissions.'

  'Sir?' came the puzzled response.

  The Admiral looked at the President, who simply inclined his head slightly.

  'Do it!'

  The check took a few moments. 'Scan positive, sir! Faint gravimetric emission from the Cobra!'

  'That ship must be destroyed, Admiral. Top priority.'

  'Sir, if I could…'

  'Top priority, Admiral.'

  'Aye, sir. Viper Squadron Alpha! Apprehend target gamma two! Destroy target! Confirm!'

  'Viper Alpha. Destroy target gamma two. Confirmed.'

  'Viper Squadron Beta! Defend Viper Squadron Alpha.'

  'Viper Beta. Defend Viper Alpha. Confirmed.'

  'Now, Mister President, if I might ask: just what the prak is going on?'

  Aboard the flagship Imperial Courier, his eminence Prince Duval received similar information, as did the Federation Commander. Within seconds Ospreys and Hawks were chasing down towards the SuperCobra.

  'So the stards do have a bomb after all!'

  The Federation and Imperial orders to the fighters differed slightly from the Galcop ones. Capture the vessel regardless of cost.

  'Games up! Company’s coming!' Rebecca hissed, looking at the astrogation scanner. The reaction from the assembled military ships had been quick. Fleets of fighters were streaking towards them.

  'Just keep them behind us,' Jim instructed, watching the moon looming closer rapidly. He had completed the programming for the mine. Everything was ready. He could almost make out the hydrogen processing plants clustered on the surface of the moon. They were heading for the north pole: far enough away from the fleet that none of the big ships would be in danger from the cascade. The small ships would have to take their chances.

  The Federation Hawks seemed to be the fastest ships, closing rapidly on the Galcop Vipers, jostling for position. The Imperial Ospreys were not quite so quick, but were running on a parallel vector having correctly determined that the SuperCobra was heading for the moon. All the ships were going to converge at around the same time, just after the SuperCobra reached the moon.

  'We’ll have to slow down to deploy the mine,' Rebecca shouted over the din of the engines. 'It’s unpowered and will share our velocity! Take us out too! It will be too dangerous to use the injectors with all these ships on top of us!'

  That would be cutting it fine. The fighter craft would be all over them. Jim shook his head; there was no alternative.

  He toggled the arming sequence. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He was personally deploying the mine, this terrible consequence of his research would be unleashed again. How many people would die as a result this time? If he could only turn back the clock…

  There was no time for reflection.

  Arming sequence complete. Deploy mine?

  The moon was filling the display, Rebecca was bring them low over the pole as planned. He could see the jutting intakes of the processing plants. Billions of tonnes of hydrogen and Quirium down there. The destruction would be nothing short of apocalyptic. A moment in history about to occur. Maybe the entire moon would fracture. Lave might soon have rings rather than a moon. The repercussions were incalculable. The altitude monitor turned red. Point-blank range and closing.

  'Stand by,' Rebecca said, placing her hand on the throttle controls. 'Hold it steady… hold it…'

  The SuperCobra vibrated. The engines weren’t designed to operate against a gravity field; they didn’t like it. They had a nasty habit of pushing against the ship when under gravimetric strain like this. It wasn’t the atmosphere or surface that killed you on a close approach, it was hull breaking apart from the strain of the engines fighting themselves.

  She slammed the throttles closed. 'Now!'

  Jim hit the firing circuit. With a hiss and a mechanical clunk the mine deployed. Rebecca pushed the throttles forward a
nd pulled the SuperCobra into a reluctant climb.

  The President saw the tactical display update.

  'Get them out of there! That is a gravimetric mine!'

  The Admiral turned and shouted orders. 'Abort pursuit! Clear the area! I repeat, Abort pursuit!'

  The Viper pilots were well trained. They immediately split, turned and ran, streaking back into formation as they fled from the moon. Behind them the Ospreys and Hawks veered around randomly, confused by the sudden change in direction. They had also spotted the mine, but had no intelligence as to what it was. The apparent panic run of the Vipers convinced them that it was no good thing, and they turned and fled too.

  Jim counted down the time in his head. Five seconds. The SuperCobra had steadied out as it retreated from the moon.

  He flipped on the rear view display. He couldn’t see the mine, as it was too small, but it was marked with a flashing dot on the scanner, in a low, high-speed orbit a scant few kilometres above the surface.

  More seconds passed; one, two, five, ten.

  Nothing.

  'Where the frag is the big bang?' Rebecca demanded, sounding panicky.

  Jim was speechless. He checked the launch criteria; everything was as expected. The scanner was showing strong gravimetric emissions, the signature of the priming sequence. The mine should have gone off, so why the prak hadn’t it? Was it faulty? Had the cooling been necessary after all? Had he overlooked something?

  He thought through it quickly, his brain racing. Temperature, Quirium density, launch parameters, distance verification, cascade balance. It was all correct, he’d double checked it, triple checked it all! Why hadn’t the mine worked? It was a pretty simple piece of machinery, all things considered. It couldn’t be a simple mechanical failure, surely?

  Rebecca could see the Vipers were turning, realising the mine hadn’t detonated. It would only be moments before they came on the attack. Eight Vipers, and what seemed to be hundreds of Ospreys and Hawks. Well, she’d always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory,: this looked like it was going to be a good day to die.