"Apparently they are not as naive as we thought, to plan a large loitering platform with no protection. And they have detection. The one device might have started towards us as a coincidence. But it strains credulity to think they launched a second one which just happens to be on an intercept vector. They saw us with that big ping."
The sensor tech said nothing. The helmsman was frozen like a statue. The captain was thinking, and what he decided might mean their lives.
"Ohhhhh!!!" The sensor tech called out, louder than was prudent. This time he did snatch his earphones off. The captain didn't reprove him. He could hear the rasping horrid noise from the earphones clear over at his seat. It was like the Almighty's own nails drawn down the blackboard of the heavens. It sent a chill up his back and raised the hair on his neck.
"Supercavitating action," he said, without even looking at the computer for confirmation. Nothing else sounded remotely similar. When he did get his wits back and looked it was ugly. "Computer estimates the device has sped up to a hundred twenty knots. It will cut across our heading in under three hours. It..." the nasty buzz from his earphones changed pitch and got louder as Bill doubled the power to the panels. "Correction. The device is accelerating. A hundred forty knots, one sixty, one seventy...stabilizing near one eighty knots."
"Surely that's as fast as it can go," the helmsman said, unbidden. Nobody offered any bets on that, but they looked unhappy.
"You can't track the first object through that noise can you?" the captain asked.
"No Sir. It was headed straight at us on our previous heading. It would eventually pass astern of us if it continues, but I have no way to know if it maneuvers."
"I have no desire to be bracketed by vessels or weapons capable of a hundred eighty knots, and no idea of their weapons' capability and reach. Turn sixty degrees west and bring her up to twenty knots. Make your depth five hundred meters, slowly. Cut speed back to six knots without further orders immediately if the cavitation noises stop."
"Aye Sir," the helmsman said and sounded relieved. There was a slight surge forward as he brought it up to speed smoothly, but he banked perfectly and they couldn't really feel the turn.
The captain typed carefully into his Moniker communication unit. "Target vessel has high powered sonar and has detected us near five hundred kilometer range. Unknown vessel or weapon was launched at our previous position. A second unknown platform with supercavitating propulsion capable of one hundred eighty knots is maneuvering in relation to our altered course. Both platforms display Space systems neutrino emissions."
They'd know that, they had to run filtering to even communicate with the Moniker through their noise, but he tossed it in anyway. "Have turned right angles to primary approach and am withdrawing under cover of their drive noise. In my opinion closer approach will result in our certain destruction. Captain Chaffee, Silverfish."
The cavitation howl stopped and they were pushed forward a bit in their seats as the helm dropped back to six knots. "What the devil are they doing?" Captain Chaffee asked. The sonar pulse rang again like striking a bell.
"If they haven't seen us before they have now," the signals and sensor man, Church, assured them. "We had our round, soft nose to them before, but we're showing them our side now. They had to shut the cavitation down to ping us. I should note that the other platform that was on an intercept course to our initial location has gone silent again. When they stopped to ping us there was a window to listen for it."
The Moniker filled the screen with a new message.
"Orders are unchanged. Withdrawal is contraindicated. Turn to target and approach aggressively. You are confirmed weapons free. REPEAT. You are free to launch on original target or to intercept the new platforms. This Moniker channel will be temporarily dedicated to your tactical board data. Route that feed to Moniker. Confirmed, Admiral Hastings, CICUSNAPACFLT, Hawaii."
"They want us to charge in and suicide to give them data on what the Homies can do," Captain Chaffee said. "They're holding the Moniker channel open for our tactical feed so they see how we buy it. Here's the message," he said, and shared it to the bridge crew.
"I've never seen them hold a Moniker feed open like that," the sensor tech said. "My understand was PACFLT only has one to share around."
Chaffee noticed the man didn't immediately route the feed without his order.
"OK fellows, time for truth," Chaffee said. "Do any of you know if we have a hidden political officer? I thought maybe with only sixteen aboard we might not have one, but I need to know."
"No idea," the sensor tech admitted.
"I suspect the alternate watch helmsman," their own helmsman said. "I don't know, but I got the feeling he was shifty. He pays way too much attention to conversations that don't include him. He's sitting right beside your number two when he has the conn. A political officer wouldn't be much use back in engineering spaces where he wouldn't hear what is happening and why immediately."
"Anybody else?" Chaffee asked, looking around. The other two shook their heads no.
"Mr. Jones," Chaffee told the weapons officer. "I'd like you to get the medial officer and visit the alt-helm at his bunk. I'm releasing an Air-Taser to you," he said, reaching under his station and unlocking a gun safe with his touch. "His privacy shield will open to 7-4-7-2. I'd like him sedated and him, his bunk and locker searched carefully for any weapons. He should be cuffed and put in another bunk. That code will work for all of them if you should need to extract him."
"Yes Sir. I need to know Sir," Jones said very carefully, "in order to carry out my orders should need arise to improvise...What is your ultimate goal?"
"At the moment, I desire not to feel a pistol on the back of my neck if I don't volunteer to kill us all. After that is no longer a worry, we can discuss it," Chaffee offered.
"I hear Australia is lovely this time of year," The sensor tech muttered without seeming to address any particular one of them directly. Chaffee ignored it.
"How much force is authorized if Mr. Hastings does have a pistol secreted?" Jones asked.
"No lethal weapon is authorized aboard. If Mr. Hastings has one he is not only in violation, he is a direct threat to my command. I want him dealt with by anything necessary including lethal force. But I don't have a pistol to offer you, just a Taser. I'd appreciate it if you start with the selector set to less than lethal, but do what you need to," Chaffee ordered. "Best you act quietly and with speed when you open his shield, before he is fully roused."
"Aye, aye, Sir. I'll do my best."
It was quite awhile before Jones returned, long enough to worry them all.
"Sir, I recovered this," Jones said, offering a slim six millimeter pistol in one hand, and two plastic magazines full of caseless charges in the other. "It was inside his personal computer. You can't open the case without tools, but we noticed he had had a monitor cable when no use of a ship's monitor would be permitted. The case pops right open when you insert the cable."
"Ingenious," Chaffee allowed, making sure the pistol was cleared before sticking it in a pocket. "Sixteen crew on this vessel, with him, and he needed sixty rounds for his pistol?" he asked.
"Perhaps the gentleman is a terrible shot," Jones guessed. "May I ask how you wish us to proceed with his confinement, having no brig? The doc says he'll be out for about three hours and useless for another. He has nothing that lasts longer and doesn't advise using it more than three times unless you want him dead."
"If he's dead he's going to stink quickly," the captain said. "There's no port at which we might seek shelter in reasonable cruising range before that would happen. Our freezer is still full and I don't wish to waste stores. Most of it will stink, just a few days later, if we allow it to thaw."
"You could put him overboard," Jones said, practically.
"I've already shut down the Moniker while you were aft, and pulled the cables off it in case the shutdown isn't really a hard stop. They can't track us and I don't want to surface where we might
show up on some satellite scan," Chaffee said.
"The five hundred and thirty three millimeter legacy weapons tube still uses a gas expulsion system," Jones said. "You don't have to surface to discard...trash. You can load it up in a bag and blow it out down to about five hundred meters. Past that I know I can still launch a weapon, but I'm not sure about expelling...debris."
"I bet they didn't teach you that in weapons school," the captain said.
"No Sir, that is a bit of legacy training from old school Chiefs," Jones admitted.
"Thank you Mr. Jones. I'll think on all that," Chaffee promised. "Mr. Wallace, take her back twenty degrees south, and bring her up to twenty six knots," he ordered the helmsman. That approximated a course to Australia, and was their fastest speed without telling every passive sonar in this hemisphere where and what they were.
"Aye, Sir!" the helm agreed. The first order that made him happy today.
Chapter 22
"Do you need something to help you sleep?" April asked.
"What, again?" Jeff asked, teasing her.
"I probably won't sleep a wink," April insisted.
"Then you should take a pill," Jeff said, reasonably. "Or use the electric thing."
"Either sometimes leaves me out of sorts the next day."
"Well, I certainly don't need that, do I?" Jeff asked. "Not to be unkind, but what I really need is just a dark room and some quiet. If you want to sit up and worry go ahead, but since you aren't second to me, or third or fourth, you can afford to be tired tomorrow."
"OK, I'm going to go read and make some hot chocolate and be quiet," April promised. "Love you," she said, which she didn't say over and over every day.
"Thank you, I love you too. And stop saying it like you are saying goodbye," Jeff ordered.
April just nodded, not trusting her voice, and left him.
* * *
"I waited until watch change so we could all be present," Chaffee explained. The control room could not contain them all and there were four listening through the open hatch.
"We have committed to mutiny from our command," Chaffee said bluntly. "As soon as I refused an order which was sheer suicide, and disabled com we were all committed. You know nobody from this vessel would ever have their loyalty free from suspicion. The only question now is what are the best circumstances we can find for ourselves.
"Mr. Church, first watch sensor tech, "Captain Chaffee pointed to him, "suggested Australia. They are an English speaking country with tech that doesn't seem under the North America's control. We can hopefully trade the Silverfish for citizenship or at least residency, and probably even a cash settlement or allowance. If any of you are determined to remain sailors they have a navy.
"If we went to any of the Asian countries, the culture is alien and I don't trust them not to repay us with a quiet execution. The South American countries, even Brazil and Argentina don't have the tech capacity to appreciate the Silverfish. They are also intimidated by North America and it would be too easy to find us and terminate us there. Europe...Europe is still a mess right now despite what the news says. They have strange politics and no telling what they'd do with us. They might be horrified at being tossed a hot potato and just hand us back. Any other ideas?" Chaffee invited.
The XO leaning against the bulkhead just inside the door uncrossed his arms and stood again. How about doing a deal with the Homies?" he proposed. "They apparently have a much deeper appreciation of naval architecture and systems than we thought. God only knows, they have enough money to afford to buy us out from what I've heard. If we can get a lift to Home. I have a lot more confidence the USNA will have a harder time reaching me there than Australia."
"I doubt they have the lift capacity to take the Silverfish to Home," Chaffee said.
"No need," the XO, Mr. Carlson said. "We can cut out the Moniker and the code computer, take the advanced weapons out of the launch tubes and that's eighty or ninety percent of the value. If they want to sell the rest off to Australia, they can do so. In fact, I'd suggest it to them."
Chaffee looked stunned. "I admit, I never thought of that. It's an audacious plan. If anyone is totally opposed to going to Home then they could remain with the ship. I'm sure they would welcome experienced hands who know the vessel. Do we have further thoughts on this?" the Captain asked, suddenly much more democratic.
"Sir," said Jones, "my understanding is passage to lift is much harder to buy than a ticket for the down leg. If anyone is displeased with life there after giving it a go, a return to Australia, or anywhere on Earth should be much easier."
"That says a lot about the general consensus," Carlson pointed out. "People on the average don't want to come back. Despite what the talking heads on the telly tell you."
That got a disdainful snort of derision from several there. They might not have been in open rebellion this morning, but they weren't idiots either.
"Show of hands." Chaffee said. "Three choices. Who wants to go to Home?" Twelve hands went up. "Who wants to stick with the Silverfish and go where she is sold off, probably Australia?" Three hands went up. Chaffee was pleased and relieved to see nobody was adamant on a solo course.
"Very well, all we have to do is figure out how to approach the Spacer vessel without getting our butts blown off by them, or our own people, trying to keep us from doing so. Mr. Wallace, bring her about in a wide turn, and approach our initial target. We shall discuss how to do so safely, but there is no reason to keep putting distance between us."
"Aye Sir, but begging your pardon, what was the third option?" the helmsman inquired.
"Why, to join with Mr. Hastings in exiting via the legacy torpedo tube," Chaffee said.
* * *
Somebody was shaking April's shoulder persistently.
"Lemme 'lone," she said closing her eyes tighter.
"Well if you don't want to come along fine," Jeff said. "You can stay here and prep breakfast for us when we come back."
April remembered where Jeff was going and her eyes popped right open. She was still confused to find herself looking at the heathered grey fabric of her couch. She didn't remember going to sleep there.
"I'm up!" she insisted to Jeff's back. He turned around blinking in surprise at the sudden complete reversal. He was dressed in the outfit she'd had made for him recently, the fancy shirt and sparkly jacket.
"Why are you all dressed up?" she demanded.
"Why not?" he countered. "It's a special occasion. It seems every time a person does anything now, good or bad, somebody feels compelled to put the video of it online. Kill or be killed, at least I can do it with a little style. Besides, it's a psychological edge. You keep telling me to consider the social side of things. I think your average Earthie seeing us on the telly would say, "Come look Martha, this ugly thug in the rough clothing is trying to kill the nice young man in the pretty outfit. He must be a celebrity. Is he a singer or vid star or what?" Don't you think?" Jeff asked.
"I think you're nuts, but I like you that way. Just don't get it all ripped and stained or I'll kill you."
"That's the nicest thing you've said about this stupid affair yet," Jeff said, happy.
"Have you had coffee?" April asked. For sure she needed some.
"No, but we're running out of time. You go shower and I'll make the coffee.
Jeff was already sipping his coffee when April came out. He'd expected perhaps she would go with her very sinister black outfit complete with swords and a belt with cases and pistols. Instead she had on a gorgeous off white gown, almost light honey colored with seed pearls sown in designs. She wore her best necklace with canary diamonds and matching earrings.
"It goes with your browns," she said simply.
* * *
"They pinged us again, so they know we turned and are approaching them again. Worse the fast platform, the super cavitating one, is sprinting to get between us as we approach the Spacer ship," their sensor officer informed them.
"Mr. Church, I'd like you to s
et the active sonar to ping every two minutes at lowest power. We can't hide, and might as well acknowledge it. Perhaps they have somebody smart enough to see it as a white flag. If they have someone really capable of thinking outside their tactical training, they will find a way to respond to that message."
Nothing happened for several minutes and then Mr. Church announced. "I have new cavitation noises. I think it must be the first platform we lost contact with. The bearing is correct. They seem to be running the system through a wide range of power settings and speeds. It has a very different pattern than the other super cavitation system."
"Yes," Chaffee said with conviction, "we interrupted them in their sea trials. We're being tracked and probed with at least two systems they've never used."
"How nice of us to give them a real world problem to test their equipment," Church said.
What was there to say to that? Everybody sat in silence until Church spoke again.
"They seem to have settled on a setting for the device that was just reactivated. I don't have an estimate of its speed yet, but I noticed it seems to have moved slightly on a bearing that would indicate it is also going to cross courses with us."
"Behind us," Captain Chaffee said. "They're going to bracket us. That's what I'd do."
"Active sonar. A new one," Church said. "On exactly the same bearing as the fast super cavitator getting ahead of us. Apparently they have a lower powered sonar that doesn't need their drive shut down to function." After a bit he reported, "Second ping at low power. Exactly two minutes after the first, just like ours." Nobody said anything, the question was too obvious. They all waited with anticipation. Sure enough, at exactly two more minutes there was another ping.
"And we see you too," Captain Chaffee said. "Now if they only had some way to tell us, 'Alright, come on in, we won't shoot.'"
Church scrunched up his eyebrows thinking hard and eventually volunteered his thoughts.
April 8: It's Always Something Page 29