by E. R. Torre
“He didn’t turn on the sensors,” Cer said. She put the gun away.
“What do you mean?” Maddox asked.
“The sensors were activated from the co-pilot’s chair,” Cer said. “Where the boy sits.”
All eyes turned to Nathaniel.
“What?” the gray haired lady began. “There’s no way—”
Maddox was having none of it.
“Lady, get that boy out of here!” he yelled.
“You are here to serve us, not the other way around,” the gray haired lady snapped back. “I will not have you yelling at Nathaniel or me. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” Maddox said. “When the time comes, I’ll make sure Lieutenant Daniels’ men talk to you and your boy in nice, friendly tones from the very moment they stick us in their brig.”
The gray haired lady pulled Nathaniel out of the co-pilot’s chair and left the bridge. Inquisitor Cer sat in the just vacated chair.
“Where are Daniels’ ships?” Maddox asked.
“Most of them are on our starboard side,” B’taav replied. He pulled up the sensor scan image on his monitor. “No doubt they’ve moved by now.”
“Right at us,” Inquisitor Cer said.
She activated her controls as B’taav slid the Pilgrimage past a large red asteroid. Beyond it lay another of equal size that twisted in a wild arc. B’taav kept the Pilgrimage well away from it. He noted Inquisitor Cer was re-running the commands issued from the co-pilot’s chair.
“Did the boy really set off the sensors?” B’taav asked.
“So it would seem.”
“How could he do that?” Maddox asked. “Every bit of sensitive equipment in the bridge is password protected.”
“The boy entered the correct password,” Cer said. “He somehow figured it out.”
“That can’t be. He’d have to be some kind of genius, and that kid is not a genius.”
“He mirrored my actions while I was piloting the ship.”
“Perhaps he overheard someone mention the code.”
Maddox considered this but ultimately shook his head.
“I can’t recall ever mentioning the codes before the boy.”
“Maybe someone else did.”
“There is another question,” Inquisitor Cer said. “Of all the things he could have done after accessing the ship’s commands, why did he set off those sensors?”
B’taav thought about that for a few seconds.
“Just before they came on, Nathaniel’s mother and I were talking about them. I told her we didn’t know where Daniels’ ships were and she wondered why we didn’t use the sensors to detect their position. I explained the dangers of doing so. She said something to the effect that she wished they could be used.”
“You think the boy did this to please his mother?” Inquisitor Cer asked.
“It's as good a theory as any.”
“That's all well and good, but we need to move on before Daniels’ boys pump a battle ship’s worth of missiles up our collective asses,” Maddox said.
“That time is past,” Cer muttered. “They know where we are. We’re as good as caught.”
“You’re giving up?”
“They know where we are, they know our maximum velocity, and they have a far superior force,” Cer said. “By my estimate, we only have a few hours before we’re surrounded. Once surrounded, we don’t stand a chance.”
“None?”
A heavy silence filled the bridge for several seconds.
“We have one chance,” B’taav finally said. He faced Maddox. “But for it to work, you’re going to have to give me some more information. I need to know why our destination is in the middle of nowhere. I also need to know how many people we have on board and exactly what cargo, if any, we need to get to that destination. You will tell me all this along with detailed specs on this ship’s defensive and offensive weaponry and escape pod status.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Inquisitor Cer is correct, Maddox. Lieutenant Daniels has surely ordered his ships to surround us. They have the superior forces and the luxury of time. If you’re unwilling to give me the information I ask, then may I suggest you instruct the others on board to start rehearsing what they’ll say to Daniels when he captures us.”
Maddox looked at Cer and found her staring right back at him.
“I’m out of options,” Inquisitor Cer told the bartender. “But I’m not as well versed on Epsillon fighter specs nor have I escaped Daniels’ pursuit before. B’taav has an advantage over me in both areas.”
Maddox shook his head.
“I have to talk to—”
“We’re short on time as it is,” Cer interrupted. “Either the Independent is in on this, or he’s not. If we’re extraordinarily lucky, we might make it a little farther. You have to make a decision.”
Maddox exhaled. The tension in the room was thick. After several seconds, Maddox closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
“Fine,” he muttered. He typed in several commands on the ship’s central computer. When he was done, he took a step back. On the lower monitor appeared a file.
“Read it,” Maddox said. “It gives the details of our destination. As for this ship, there are twelve total passengers on board.”
“Including us?”
“Yes.”
“What about the ship's cargo and equipment?”
Maddox retrieved another file.
“There you go.”
B’taav opened the first file. Upon reading it, his dark eyes widened and his mouth opened. When he faced Maddox, he found the bartender holding his fusion gun. He powered a charge and pressed the barrel of the weapon against the Independent’s neck.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, B’taav,” Maddox said. “But if we’re caught, even after I’m convinced you’ve done everything you could to keep us away from Daniels, I’ll still make damn sure you’re the first to suffer. You understand?”
B’taav nodded.
“Good. Let’s get to work.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Oscar Theodor, the senior pilot of fighter craft Tango 13, drew even with the wobbling gray asteroid and flipped his vessel over its large, spinning mass. He examined the view screen and his monitor. The other twenty fighter crafts were nearly in position. Their flight coordinates were exact and difficult to maintain, but to snare their prey, they had to form, and maintain, their circle.
“Is it too much to ask that you turn on your sensors one more time?” he muttered to his unseen prey, knowing full well the craft they were pursuing would do no such thing.
Four hours had passed since the occupants of the pursued craft committed their mistake, and in the interval the Tango ships were ordered to adopt a standard surround tactic. It worked well in the vast emptiness of outer space but proved tricky to implement in this dense asteroid field. Still, the circle was closed and capture was a matter of time.
Theodor gazed through the glass bubble that surrounded him and turned the magnification of his goggles on. The lenses over his eyes buzzed with mechanical life. He carefully examined the area around him.
We'll spot them. By any means available.
“This is Tango 16 calling Tango 13,” a voice crackled over Theodor's speaker. “Approaching section 1001.45. I…I have a visual of our target. Guys, I think I see her! She’s right in front of me!”
Theodor turned to his right. The magnification lenses again buzzed as he zoomed in on that location. Euphoria quickly turned to disappointment.
“Tango 16, this is Tango 13,” he said. “I have the object in sight. Sorry, Phil, it’s just a piece of twisted metal.”
There was a long pause.
“Acknowledged, Tango 13,” the voice over the radio finally replied. “Shit. After this is over, I’m going to get my eyes checked.”
“Better luck next time. Tango 13 out.”
Theodor steered his ship over and between several more asteroids. Every few sec
onds, he eyed the sensor readout.
Turn your sensors on, he again hoped. End this misery.
Without meaning to, Theodor whistled an impatient tune. The week and a half they spent out here, in the middle of nowhere, was getting to everyone. The sensor flare couldn't have come at a better, or worse, time. Better for morale because many of the search crew worried the craft might have doubled back or somehow slipped past them. Worse because Theodor's eight hour shift would end soon, and he might not be the pilot on deck when the capture was finally made.
Think positive thoughts. Who knows, maybe in the next hour you’ll be the one to corner them. You’ll be the hero.
Yeah, right.
Theodore continued whistling, louder. He was hungry and he was tired and more than a little angry that—
“Wait until you’re asleep,” a gravely male voice crackled over the ship’s intercom. It was Steve, one of the two replacement pilots. “They tell me I've got a lovely singing voice.”
Theodor laughed and, to the eternal gratitude of those below decks, stopped whistling.
The rocks floated by as if Theodor were at the base of a mountain staring up at an avalanche dropping, in slow motion, toward him. Slow and peaceful…
Theodor’s eyes closed for a second.
“Another half-hour,” he said. “That’s all. Unless you guys would like to tell us where you—”
Theodor never finished his thought. His long-range sensor flashed with a newly acquired blip. It was near the center of the circle the Tango fighter crafts had formed.
The communicator came alive with multiple voices. Theodor, the senior most officer in the current formation, activated his speaker and the communications computer silenced the other voices.
“Target ship’s sensors are active,” he said, both to the other craft and the Dakota, trailing many thousands of kilometers behind.
Theodor turned from the monitor and stared out the port window and in the direction of the sensor ping. He increased the magnification in his lenses to their maximum. After a moment he again clicked on the communicator. There was considerable excitement in his voice when he said:
“This is Tango 13 to all units: I have a visual of our target. I repeat: I have a visual of our target. Her location is 2332.44.”
“Acknowledged, Tango 13.”
The voice sliced through the tension within the Dakota’s bridge like a machete splitting brush. Lieutenant Daniels took three long strides and sat in his chair at the center of the bridge. He leaned forward, as if preparing to sprint.
“Velocity of target?” he asked.
“Seventy five kilometers per hour.”
Slow, Daniels thought. Why?
“All Tango crafts, this is Lieutenant Daniels. You are to close in to fifty kilometers of the subject.”
Daniels rubbed his chin as one after another Tango ship acknowledged his order. It was only then that he pulled his personal monitor closer. He examined the visual readout which included the course of each of the Tango ships. The Dakota, the largest craft on the monitor, hobbled far behind the last of the Tango flight group.
We should be closer, just in case.
It was a miracle they had flight capacity at all. The entire mechanical staff was still working feverishly on the damage caused by the decoy ship sent toward the Erebus Displacer the week before. It was good fortune the explosion caused only minor structural damage to the ship’s fourth propulsion engine.
And a good thing there were no fatalities, he thought. Or else all hell would really break loose. Then again, the damage proved useful, didn't it?
Once this was done, Daniels estimated the Dakota would require a month at the Central Docks to regain her full thruster capabilities. However, what happened that far in the future held little interest to him today.
“This is Tango 13,” Oscar Theodor’s voice came over the radio. “Confirming pursuit craft is a class VII Oscarlot.”
Data on the craft appeared on Lieutenant Daniels’ monitor. The Oscarlot was primarily used for cargo runs and was a favorite of the more successful scavengers operating out of Titus. Given her speed when she first escaped, it was obvious her engines had been modified. Preliminary video images of the craft appeared on Daniels' monitor. The ship looked intact.
Why did you use your sensors? Daniels thought. You’ve been successful for so long and you're clearly undamaged. Why give up now?
“Tango 13, this is Dakota,” Daniels said into the communicator. “Are the target’s long range sensors still active?”
Because of the distance they lagged behind, the sensor readings received from the pursued craft by the Dakota were at least five minutes old. Communication transmissions relayed from Tango craft to Tango craft, on the other hand, were only a few seconds old.
“Yes sir.”
Daniels shook his head.
“Tango group, be advised to use extreme caution. I have a feeling our friends are up to more of their tricks.”
The Pilgrimage flew through the asteroid field as if an arrow sprung from a bow. It kicked through a cloud of debris as if plowing past a swarm of bugs.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Theodor muttered as the rocks, some the size of an armored vehicle, bounced off it.
After a few minutes of careful piloting, Tango 13 pulled within the ordered fifty kilometers behind the craft. Theodor examined his instruments. While he did, Tango 5 appeared beside his ship. The pilot of that craft, Jennifer Gibbs, was near enough to wave.
“This is Tango 5,” she said over the communicator. “Theodor, I don’t get it.”
“What's that, Tango 5?”
“They’ve avoided us pretty well so far, yet now they’re making themselves a juicy target. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got missiles locked on their engines. They try anything funny and they’re gone.”
“Don’t get jittery,” Theodor countered. “The higher ups want them alive.”
“Too bad,” Gibbs responded. “We could have finished this a while ago. Why do you think they’ve given up?”
“Maybe their engine’s cracked up. Hell, maybe they’re just tired.”
“Do you really think so?”
“No,” Theodor admitted. “And neither does Lieutenant Daniels. That’s why we’re hanging back and surrounding them.”
Theodor eyed the computer monitor and the various blips drawing around the Pilgrimage.
“Won’t be long now.”
The Pilgrimage, for her part, continued moving in a straight line. She approached, and barely avoided, a rock roughly half her size.
“That was damn close,” Gibbs said. “You think their controls are frozen?”
“They better hope not,” Theodor said. “You see what’s coming?”
Jennifer Gidds stared forward and magnified her flight goggles. Not very far away and approaching fast was a massive asteroid fragment.
“Maybe they don’t want to be taken alive.”
“The Oscarlots are well reinforced. If they run into that rock at the speed they’re going, they won’t crack up.”
“The ship might not crack up, but what will happen to the passengers?”
“They better strap themselves in real tight,” Theodor replied.
Lieutenant Daniels’ mind processed the developments presented in real time on the main view screen. He tried to understand what was happening, but ultimately shook his head.
“What the hell are you up to B’taav?” he muttered.
The Pilgrimage’s approach to the asteroid fragment continued without the slightest deviation.
“This is Tango 13 to Dakota. Maybe they’re asleep and need a wakeup call. Permission to fire a shot across ship’s bow?”
“Permission granted,” Daniels replied. “Oh, and Theodor?”
“Yes sir? ”
“Try not to make it quite as close as last time.”
Oscar Theodor primed a port missile and set her course. After he double checked all systems, he pressed a large red button at t
he top of his directional joystick. A single missile shot out of Tango 13’s rack and flew toward the cargo ship. It skimmed past the Pilgrimage’s port side.
No one on board that ship appeared to notice the streaking projectile.
Oscar Theodor clicked on his communicator.
“Dakota, this is Tango 13. ETA for Pilgrimage impact is three minutes.”
The lines on Daniels’ forehead deepened.
He rubbed his hands and sat down. The cargo ship was going to crash. There was no longer any doubt about it, just as there was no longer the possibility of stopping her from doing so. The fighter craft could try, of course. They could fire on the Pilgrimage’s engines and hope to disable them. But the forward momentum guaranteed some kind of collision.
The only possibility to avoid this was to have a Tango craft roll up alongside the Pilgrimage and have the men aboard it jump the breach, board the errant ship, and take control. They could then guide her to safety. But time was too tight, and there was a very real possibility the ship could be primed with explosives just as the decoy ship was back at Titus. And if the ship’s controls were indeed compromised, then boarding the craft served no purpose.
Daniels considered various scenarios and explanations for what was unfolding before him. The most logical explanation was also the grimmest: The crew of the ship was already dead, perhaps a mass suicide to prevent capture. But he had a hard time picturing B’taav going away that quietly. Maybe he was taken by surprise, the first victim…maybe his Tango group was following a ghost ship.
No. After all this, they wouldn’t give up. Not—
A tiny smile suddenly appeared on Daniels’ face. The lines so evident on his forehead disappeared.
“Very clever,” he said. Just as quickly as it appeared, the smile faded.
“Maintain your distance from the ship,” Daniels barked. “If they want to crash, let them.”