Only the Brave

by Richard Tongue

   “Captain,” Kirkland’s voice said, echoing over the ceiling speaker. “Emergence in four minutes, ma’am. You asked to be notified.”

   “Indeed. All hands to battle stations, Commander. I’m on my way.”

   “Aye, ma’am.” There was an audible click, and Kirkland continued, “All hands, this is the Exec. Battle stations, battle stations. Prepare for hostile emergence. Fighters prepare for scramble on request. I repeat, scramble on request. Department heads report status to the bridge on the double. That is all.”

   Forrest walked out of her office, stepping onto the bridge, Kirkland standing to attention as she entered the room, before moving back to the tactical desk. She leaned over the display, working the controls, watching as the reports flooded in from the bridge. Forrest turned to Fox, the astrogator furiously working to prepare the ship for battle, green lights flicking one by one to red as the combat systems engaged.

   “All decks are cleared for action, Captain,” Kirkland finally reported.

   “Confirmed,” Fox said. “Turrets primed, ready for defensive fire. Fighter squadron is ready for immediate launch on request.”

   Nodding, Forrest replied, “Let’s just hope none of this is necessary. I want a completely passive posture upon our entry into the system. Unless the Guilders are waiting for us, we go right into hiding. Helm, keep your maneuvers slow and steady, and watch your heading. Our reports stress that the gravitational interference this close to the star is severe.”

   “Thank God for that,” Fox replied. “No way they’ll have been able to establish a full-system sensor network. It wouldn’t last a week.”

   “Unless they’ve laid one for our benefit,” Kirkland warned, gloomily.

   “Ten seconds to emergence, Captain,” Merritt reported from the helm. “All systems go.”

   “Hang on, everyone,” Forrest warned. “This one might be a bit rough.”

   The ship shuddered, easing through the dimensional rift, rocking from side to side as Merritt struggled to navigate through the waves of gravitational distortion, a low groan coming from the hull armor, plates buckling as the stars returned to the screen, the dull purple sun at the heart of the system focused on the display. Forrest leaned forward, waiting for signs of enemy attack, waiting for the angry wail of the proximity alarm that would report their discovery.

   At last, she released the breath she had barely been conscious of holding, and said, “Status report, Commander.”

   “Emergence complete and successful, Captain,” Kirkland replied. “No sign of enemy activity close to us. Beginning passive scan.” Looking up, she added, “It’s going to take a few minutes, ma’am.”

   “What about the star?”

   “Just as advertised,” she said, throwing controls. “We’re gathering a lot of data already, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to properly predict the movements of the black hole. Too many variables. Maybe if we could get a nice, long baseline, say a few years, but in the time we’re likely to be in the system, I doubt we’ll have enough data to crunch.”

   “Lots of local electromagnetic activity, Captain,” Fox added. “No sign of change, though. Based on communications intercept, I think we’ve managed to sneak past their detectors.” Throwing a series of switches, she added, “The station is about three million miles distant, on the far side of the star.”

   “Three million miles,” Kirkland said, shaking her head. “That’s going to give them far too much lead time. They’ll be able to either set up to meet us, or simply leave the system and begin their assault on Zemlya, long before we can do anything to stop them.”

   “I don’t think so, Commander,” Merritt said, peering at the screen. “There’s a hell of a lot of debris in our orbit. Enough that I might be able to hop us from one to another. It’ll be a little chancy, and we’ll have to move far closer than flight regulations normally permit, but as long as nobody is throwing active sensors our way, we ought to be able to get within at least fifty thousand miles without anyone knowing it.”

   “You realize what sort of a trajectory that would be to plot?” Kirkland protested.

   “I can do it, Commander. Lincoln can turn on a dime, and we’ve got all the fine thruster controls we need to pull it off.”

   “And the gravitational disturbance?” Kirkland asked. “One wrong move, and we’re liable to go plummeting down into the star. If we get too close, we’ll never pull out of that dive.”

   Nodding, Fox said, “Local space is worse than I thought, Captain. I didn’t quite believe the reports, but at our current orbit, we could easily be subject to all sorts of turbulence. I’m forced to agree with Commander Kirkland. I’d say a stealth course is impossible.”

   “With all due respect, ma’am, you don’t have the qualifications on the helm to make that judgment. I’m aware of the local gravitational situation, and I’m aware of the capabilities of the ship. As well as my own.” Looking first at Kirkland, then at Forrest, Merritt continued, “I can pull this off, Captain. I know I can do it.”

   Forrest looked at the strategic view, nodded, then said, “Plot your course. Take us through the rocks at your discretion, but have a course prepared to take us to the gravitational threshold, should we have to make an exit from this system in a hurry.” Turning to the sensor display, she asked, “What have we got, Spaceman?”

   “No signs of a local satellite network, Captain. I think your guess was right. Laying one in this system would be a nightmare.” He threw controls, and said, “I’ve got some good images of the station, and it’s got some substantial booster engines on it. Enough to make significant orbital changes. Or even get to the gravitational threshold, if you were willing to burn for long enough. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

   “And the rest of the fleet?”

   “Wait one, Captain. Bandwidth’s way down. If I could throw a probe forward, perhaps hide it in the rocks along the same course we’re planning to fly...”

   “Not a chance,” Merritt said. “No computer could work a course like that.”

   “I would have thought that was precisely the purpose of a guidance control system,” Kirkland replied, raising an eyebrow.

   “No, no, not with that beast down there changing the local gravitational field. Given a little time, I can probably get used to it, but without a lot more data, our guidance systems can’t handle it. They aren’t designed to. I doubt anyone ever contemplated getting this close to a black hole.”

   “Merritt,” Forrest said, “are you trying to tell me that you propose to navigate this ship on a course of that complexity using manual flight controls?”

   “I didn’t say the computers can’t help, ma’am, but I’m going to have to run on override the whole way, when it makes mistakes.”

   Fox looked across at Forrest, and said, “If we slip out of the shadow for so much as a moment, this party’s going to come to an end pretty damned quick.” Turning to Merritt, she added, “This just makes the plan even more impossible.”

   “I’ve made my decision, Lieutenant,” Forrest pressed. “And that decision stands. We proceed at best possible speed. Helm, how long before we’re in position to launch a fighter assault, at optimum range?”

   “Approximately six hours, Captain. I’ll have a more precise estimate shortly.”

   “Captain,” Clayton reported, “I now have a firm sensor fix on the enemy fleet. There hasn’t been any more hyperspace activity, so I think we can assume that they’ve assembled all of their ships.” Frowning, he added, “I’m having to use a distant moon as a reflector, so there’s a significant time lag, and sensor definition is minimal. I’m trying to clean up our readings as much as possible, but we’re hitting the limits of the capabilities of our equipment. The gravity waves from the singularity are causing major problems as well, but...”

   “You’ve worked a minor miracle getting us this far, Specialist. Re
port.”

   His face locked into a frown, Clayton replied, “Thirty-one enemy warships, all but six of the monitor design, the rest smaller escort variants. Three big tankers, six assault freighters, both fully laden by the looks of it, and six transports. Based on Lemurian intelligence, that could easily carry more than fifteen thousand troops, representing the bulk of the Guild surface forces.”

   Fox whistled, and said, “If we could take down those ships, they’d have serious trouble simply housing those troops on the rest of the fleet. Destroy them, and we prevent any possible chance of an invasion.”

   “They’ve realized that, Lieutenant,” Kirkland said, looking over Clayton’s shoulder. “Those transports are at the heart of their formation, tucked in nice and neat behind the enemy capital ships. I don’t think there’s a way to get our fighters through, not without suffering casualties serious enough to render our assault moot. Even if we rigged them for autonomous operation for one-way runs, I doubt they’d make it to their targets.”

   “There has to be a way,” Forrest said, gesturing at the screen. “People, this is the opportunity we’ve been looking for, and we’re in position to launch the attack that will bring this war to a successful conclusion. The loss of at least a part of this fleet will force the Guild to come to terms. I will not accept that there is no answer to this problem. We have six hours to find the solution, and until we do, we will continue to press the attack.”

   “And if we can’t?” Fox asked.

   “Then we hit them hard, with whatever we’ve got, and we just pray that it turns out to be enough.”

  Chapter 16

   “I think we’ve waited long enough,” Romano said, glancing at Xiang. “The maintenance ducting on the right leads almost directly to the guard barracks. According to Zani, there’s a hidden section underneath, one that most of the guards know nothing about. That’s our target.”

   Shaking his head, Xiang replied, “I still say we ought to proceed to our primary target.”

   “Two reasons why not,” Romano said. “First, Zani said she’d leave some equipment cached for us to use. That’s vital.”

   “Assuming she kept her part of the bargain. And even if she has, for all we know, she’s been caught or killed by her oh-so-trustworthy comrades, and we’ll be walking right back into the hands of the enemy. We should head for the hyperspace communicator. From there we ought to be able to steal what we need.”

   “Second,” Romano pressed, “I would be far from surprised to learn that Zani was still monitoring us somehow. If we deviate from the plan before we’re ready, she could send her people right down here to get us.” Looking around, he added, “We’re damned either way, realistically, but at least as it stands we have a little more of a chance to pull this off.” He looked up at the PacFed technician, and added, “You can stay here if you want. I’ll come back to get you once I’ve collected the equipment. I’d acted on the assumption I’d be working alone, in any case.”

   “I’m sure you’d just love that, Lieutenant. Let me make something perfectly clear. I trust you only marginally more than I trust Zani. You are not leaving my sight, and what I told you before still stands. At the first sign of treachery, you die.” Gesturing into the distance, he said, “Please, lead the way.”

   Romano glanced at Xiang again, shook his head, then swung out into space, using the overhanging frame to give him his initial momentum as he dived through the air, his hands outstretched as he reached for his goal, a ladder dropping down from the ceiling overhead. He looked around, watching for any sign of activity, listening for any warning that he had been spotted, wryly noting that Xiang had waited for him to get well clear before following, using him as a lightning rod to draw any enemy attention.

   A low rumble echoed from the nearest tank, and he turned with a start, sending himself spinning around. The nearest tank was being emptied, the mechanism noisily grinding away, the noise slowly building. No bad thing, a distraction that would keep any searchers from spotting them. Carefully correcting his course, he reached for the ladder once more, easily grabbing the lowest rung and pulling himself up, heading for the shaft above, a few dim lights shining down towards them. Xiang followed a moment later, wordlessly beginning his ascent behind him.

   The first meters were easy, Romano able to nimbly slide up the ladder, but as they moved out towards the rim of the ship, the rotational gravity began to take full effect once more, and the climb became more of an effort. He carefully swung around, legs first, now seemingly descending into gravity rather than ascending into it, a more natural move that started to ache as he climbed.

   Endlessly the pair moved through the gloom, still waiting at every second for the warning alarm that would herald their imminent capture. They passed a sensor input, the lights dark, but it defied belief that the Guilders wouldn’t have spotted them yet.

   “It is a trap,” Xiang said. “Anyone who attempts to bring us in will pay for it.”

   “Not much of a trap,” Romano replied. “They had to let us go to spring it. I couldn’t have got away without Zani’s help.” He reached across to the wall, tugging open a hatch, the manual release stiff and reluctant to trigger. Finally, it popped open, and he swung himself inside, crawling along the maintenance shaft, cables tangling into his hands as he walked. He paused at a junction, looking from left to right, and spotted what he was looking for, a sealed holdall swinging from the ceiling. With a smile, he made his way to the cache, carefully pulling it down.

   “Everything we wanted,” he said, rummaging through the contents. “A hacking pad, PacFed issue but with updated software, and all the equipment we need to splice into the network.”

   “Give me that,” Xiang replied, snatching the datapad. “One of ours. From my ship, in fact. I recognize the design and the serial number.” He pulled out a filament, passing it to Romano, and said, “Lock that down, then stand watch. As soon as I start to run a hack, it’ll set off detectors halfway across the station. Which is probably exactly what they want. I think I can run a distraction play, but it’s not going to be easy.”

   “Just do the best you can,” Romano said, taking the cable. “I’ll do my part.” He scrambled down the shaft, careful to hold the slender data filament clear of the ground, not wanting to risk damaging it. Just short of a junction, he found what he was looking for, the network link between the barracks and the main data storage. Pulling the conduit cover clear, he fed the filament into the closest access point, locking it into position. A moment later, a green light flashed on, and he settled back to watch the corridor, ready and alert for a warning alarm.

   Footsteps, in the distance, and heading in his direction. There was someone coming down the corridor, right underneath them. Were he to check one of the local status panels, he’d know that someone was working in the shaft. There was no urgency in the pace of the approaching figure, no sign that he was already aware of their presence. That could change at any second. He had to move, and rapidly.

   Carefully, silently, Romano took three paces forward, crouching down low, and slowly released the catches on the hatch beneath him, one after another, until only a single one remained, bowing under his weight, the metal flexing and twisting. He kept one hand on the release, ready to throw his strength on the hatch when the guard was in the right place, until finally, he threw the toggle, the metal giving underneath him, landing on the man below.

   He took the fall with a roll, the guard staggering to the wall, trying to sound the alarm. Romano hit him on the back, sending him falling, and snatched the man’s sidearm, pulling it out of his holster and leveling it at the sprawling figure. It was an old-style gyroc, good in all gravity but noisy as hell. Taking a shot might end the guard’s life, but it would probably also lead to the end of his own at the same time. He had to take care.

   “Hold it right there,” Romano said. “The last false move is your last.”

   “Zani,” the man cur
sed. “It was a trick. That bastard Narik was right,” The guard rolled over, looking Romano in the eyes, and said, “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

   “Are you that eager to die?”

   “Hell no, but I’m realistic enough to know what’s coming. Just make it quick.”

   “You got any friends about?”

   “As if you don’t know.”

   “Tell me,” Romano pressed. “Assume I’m ignorant. Now talk.”

   Shaking his head, the guard replied, “We’re spread out all across the station, looking for you and your friend. Zani’s got us hunting the lower decks for you. I guess she knew where you were, all along.” He paused, then added, “I might have something you want.”

   “Go on.”

   “Your friend. The one who was captured. Tanaka, I think. He’s in a holding cell, one deck down from here. As soon as they find my body, Narik will tear him to pieces to find you. Zani won’t be able to stop him, and the rest of the garrison will be cheering him on the whole way. If you want to rescue your friend, I might be able to help you, but in exchange, I make it out of this nightmare in one piece.”

   “Won’t your friends be a little upset to learn that you’ve decided to change sides?”

   “Only if they had a chance to find out about it. I’m sure you can prevent that from happening.” Gesturing at the wall, he added, “Medical kit’s got a pretty good tranquilizer. We use it all the time for prisoner pacification. Give me a good strong shot, hit me over the head, and I’ll come up with my own story.”

   “And I’m supposed to trust you?”

   “That depends how much you want to see that friend of yours alive again. Though perhaps he was just as ready to die as you were. I really wouldn’t know.”

   “Where?”

   “One deck down, service shaft fifty meters behind you, Cell Nine. There’s a single guard, but he’s not the sharpest bayonet in the armory. You ought to be able to trick him without too much trouble.” He frowned, then said, “You some sort of commando? Are we coming under attack?” Shaking his head, he said, “Christ, you picked the wrong damned place for a sneak assault.”