She stepped off the prone target. He rolled onto his side and groaned. Circulation units were clearing the smoke, and through the haze Katja got her first good look at the other targets. All were dressed in civilian clothes, and none looked threatening.
“Bravo-One, Alpha-One—bridge secure. No casualties.”
Chang’s response was immediate.
“Bravo-One. Engine room secure. No casualties. Two targets, three others detained en route.”
“Four targets here,” she replied. “Two others detained en route.” She switched to inter-ship freq. “Mother, Alpha-One. Touchdown, ops green. Commencing search.”
“Mother, roger.” Thomas’s voice echoed in her ear.
Back to strike freq. “Bravo-One, Alpha-One—commence search.”
“Bravo-One.”
All the targets were watching her with wide eyes. The bridge was bright and modern, with soft, beige bulkheads and ergonomic consoles that wrapped around large, comfortable seats. The blackened remains of the hatch littered the deck, but it was obvious that this was a well-maintained ship. She studied the navigation projection on the starboard bulkhead, noting what appeared to be a straight run from a mining facility in Sirius’s Kuiper belt.
The recorded route of the freighter didn’t tie in with what Kristiansand had reported, but Katja didn’t worry about the details. All was not as it seemed.
The troopers were watching the targets with leveled weapons. All remained in place and waited for her word. Behind her visor she once again steeled herself.
* * *
Jack shifted in his seat, looking closely at his display to see if Rapier was still producing even a glimmer of spacetime distortion. The fast-attack craft had dug a gravimetric trough during her high-speed assault on the mystery freighter, but now that she had dropped her speed and taken station she had all but vanished.
Kristiansand was drifting in her patrol box and was equally invisible across the dimensions, although her homing beacon gave Jack a continuous bearing on his mother ship. At first, the idea of flying support had sounded exciting to Jack, but now that the initial action was over he realized that this might be a bit of a yawner.
Looking at the spot on his scope where dead reckoning told him Rapier was, he imagined what Breeze was doing. He pictured her sitting behind her console, long hair falling past her shoulders as she carefully surveyed the situation. Most likely she wore a spacesuit for such an operation, but in Jack’s mind she was just in her coveralls, zero-g holding up those great tits. Of course, zero-g wouldn’t let her hair fall past her shoulders… Jack briefly debated whether his image should include falling hair or floating tits.
A quick re-imagining placed Breeze’s hair under a hat and brought his image in line with the laws of physics.
He’d have to check Kristiansand’s schedule after this run, and find out if the ship planned to rendezvous with Normandy anytime soon. Better yet, if he could do more shuttling to the invasion ship. Or maybe, when this boarding was over, Rapier could dock with Kristiansand for a post-mission briefing…
After two months in space, Jack found his mind wandering often to the possibility of entertaining Breeze in his rack. No doubt a hot cougar like that could teach him a thing or two.
But she was more than just sexy. She was smart, and fun. Jack had seen clearly how the XO had been ogling her. That big strike officer, Scott or something, had been trying pretty hard, too. Watching Breeze toy with them had been great fun, especially since she dropped everything whenever Jack spoke.
He had played it cool that evening, but it was pretty clear which guy Breeze had been thinking about going home with. Shame she’d been so tired from the mission.
Jack couldn’t wait for their next meeting.
An alert from his console pulled him back to reality. He blinked, did a sweep of the visual, of his flight controls, and then focused again on his hunt controls. Before he could figure out what had caused the alert, a red line appeared across his display.
“Viking-Two, Longboat.” It was Lieutenant Makatiani from Kristiansand. “Fishing true one-six mark one-zero.”
Jack spotted the disturbance on his display. How long had that been there? He tapped in the commands to drop in his own bearing line. There was something out there.
“Viking-Two, uhh, fishing true,” he said. “Zero-four mark zero-eight.”
The red line from his position intersected that from Kristiansand, some twenty-five thousand kilometers from Jack’s Hawk. Not too close, but not that far, either. And, Jack suddenly realized, not too far from Rapier and the mystery merchant ship.
He steered his Hawk to point at Rapier, then pushed open the throttle. Doctrine demanded that, once an initial fix on an extra-dimensional contact had been established, he was to relocate at best speed to continue triangulating. This could be in any direction—ideally perpendicular to the bearing, but a feeling at the back of Jack’s brain told him that it would be wise to get a little closer to the boarding.
15
Katja pocketed the data crystal that contained the merchant vessel’s entire flight log. It would take hours—or days—to go through it all, but even glancing at the information as it downloaded, Katja had noticed a few suspicious items. The real question now was, was this merchant crew part of the smuggling operation, or were they just mules for an unknown agent?
On an impulse, she raised her rifle to point at the face of one of the kneeling targets. His face blanched, terror filling his eyes. She watched him carefully—his fear was pure, with no sign of detached calculation or tactical awareness. The other targets looked equally terrified, and she decided they were probably legitimate merchants.
She lowered her weapon.
“Who is the captain of this vessel?” she demanded.
Frantic glances passed between the targets. Then, the man whom Katja had taken down raised his hand.
“I am,” he said. “Daragh Wu. This is the Centauri Merchant Ship Astrid on a routine commercial run from Kuiper Base Charlie to Laika.”
“What’s your cargo, Mr. Wu?”
“Iridium ore.”
“Do you have all of your documentation?”
“Of course.”
Katja smiled. “So you won’t mind a bit if we have a look around.”
“Just please, don’t hurt my crew.” He stared at the deck, defeated.
“That depends entirely on them.” She looked up at her troopers. “Alpha-Two Team, collect Targets One and Two and bring them here.” Assad and Jackson moved to obey. As they reached the door Katja spoke again. “Oh, and at the request of their captain, don’t hurt them.”
Assad couldn’t suppress his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Hernandez shepherded all four members of the bridge crew into a corner, where he could cover them solo and free up Katja to inspect the bridge. She pretended to ignore the activity, even attaching her rifle to her belt and turning away completely, as if lost in thought. Her ears, however, tracked every sound the targets made—little more than short breaths and shuffled movement. To them, she was in complete control of the situation, and she was beginning to believe it herself.
As the other two targets were brought in and placed on the deck next to their colleagues, Katja examined the various engine settings displayed on the consoles. All systems appeared fully operational, but nothing was running at higher than a minimum.
“Mr. Wu, how are you keeping to your schedule?” She looked over at him, her expression light and disarming. “I know how it is for space traders—time is money.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers, but only for a moment. “We’re actually… a little ahead of schedule.”
“How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much ahead of schedule.”
“Uhh, I don’t have the exact figure.” He began to rise. “I can show you—”
“Stay down.” Both troopers raised their rifles in augmentation of Katja’s gentle words. “Give me an estimate. Humor me.”
“Maybe twelve hours.”
She nodded. “This looks like a pretty nice ship, although I admit I’ve never seen the class before. What’s your top speed?”
“Point-zero-nine-c.”
“Not bad. I bet you have to use that sometimes, to make up for lost time when the loaders are slow.”
“We manage,” he replied.
“The loaders must have been really fast at your last stop. Do they have modern facilities at Kuiper Base Charlie?”
He stared stupidly at her.
“I said…” she repeated slowly, “do they have modern facilities at Kuiper Base Charlie?”
He swallowed. “Umm, not bad. The crews are hard-working.”
“They must be, since you’re so far ahead of schedule that you’re drifting through extra-solar space at less than six kilometers per second. That must be one hell of a low SOA, to let you loiter for so long.”
He was beginning to sweat. Certainly no spy, here.
“There was… a delay at the port on Laika,” he said. “We’ve been told to hold off.”
“Really? You were asked to hold off at three hundred million kilometers? That must be some stack of freighters waiting to get down to Laika.”
“Alpha-One, Bravo-One. Poss suspect, deck two frame niner-alpha. Investigating.”
Katja keyed her mike. “Alpha-One.” She glanced at the bulkhead chronometer. The strike team had been on board less than seven minutes, and already they’d found something. Chang was good. She looked back at the merchant captain, who watched her like a rabbit, nervous and eager to bolt.
“Mr. Wu, I’m a patient woman, but I don’t like being lied to. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re going to tell me the truth from now on?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you traveling so slowly?”
He hesitated, but clearly didn’t have the stomach for this. “So that your ships wouldn’t detect us.”
“Why are you so far out of the space lanes?”
“So that we wouldn’t be seen.”
“What was your last port of call?”
“It really was Kuiper Base Charlie, but that was nine weeks ago.”
“Did you rendezvous with any ships since then?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“A trader named Cobb. I don’t know where he was coming from.”
“Did you take on cargo from him?”
“Yes. Ten sealed crates.”
“What’s in them?”
“I don’t know.”
Katja hardened her expression. Time to get nasty.
“If you lie to me I’ll have one of your crew executed. There are five of them in here, so I guess that gives you five lies before you die.”
One of the prone targets squirmed. Another whimpered. Wu was sweating freely, and he wiped his eyes.
“I’m not lying!” There was real panic in his voice.
“Where are the crates?”
“In a small hold under the deck in the number two generator room.”
She keyed her mike. “Bravo-One, Alpha-One, new info. Space under the deck in number two generator room.”
“Bravo-One. Tally-ho.”
Katja frowned. Chang had already found the crates. Apparently his search procedures were faster than her interrogation methods.
“Mother, Alpha-One. Sitrep.”
“Mother, go.”
“Suspect cargo discovered. Bravo-One Team on location, Alpha-One Team en route with Target Zero-Zero.”
“Mother, roger. Kristiansand’s Hawk has reported possible stealth activity. Checking now, but I recommend you expedite.”
She looked back at the merchant captain. “Get up, Mr. Wu.”
The merchant hesitated. Hernandez stepped in, hauled him to his feet and threw him forward. He would normally have been taller than Katja, but was hunched over so much that he actually had to look up to meet her eyes.
“You’re going to show me these crates.”
He nodded.
She switched to strike freq. “All units, Alpha-One. Alpha-One Team en route to suspect cargo with Target Zero-Zero. Mother says expedite. Bravo-One, get those crates open. Over.”
“Bravo-One.”
Katja grabbed Wu by the collar and propelled him forward through the smashed bridge hatch. Hernandez was close behind. She hustled down the passageways of the ship, practically dragging the gasping civilian along with her. Stealth was no longer important, and her armor whirred softly to move at her desired speed. Hernandez’ heavy footfalls naturally fell into rhythm with her own, and the metallic thump of their steps formed a beat for Wu’s labored breathing.
* * *
Jack eased off the throttles again, finishing his third sprint in six minutes. Kristiansand was maneuvering as well, and between them they had managed to build enough of a cross-section to rough-in the location of their stealth contact.
It was hard to pinpoint, however, because it was moving too fast. Jack waited impatiently for his hunt controls to clear after the sprint, then studied his readouts. His big dipper and the three barbells he’d dropped before each sprint all began to tie in, and Jack suddenly felt very hot in his suit.
“Longboat, Viking-Two—assess probable shadow bearing zero-eight mark zero-niner, shallow!”
The stealth ship was closing on Rapier and the merchant ship at cruising speed—probably the fastest it could go and still maintain the spacetime picture. Its intentions seemed pretty clear.
“Longboat, roger. I am maneuvering to cover your attack. Prepare to engage.”
Jack felt his throat tighten. Engage? As in attack for real? Holy shit.
He swung the Hawk to an intercept course and pushed open the throttles. His spacetime picture began to smear, but the computer adjusted to keep the symbology accurate. His fingers fumbled with the safety switch, but within moments he had armed all four of his gravi-torpedoes. He confirmed that they were set for a shallow run into the Bulk.
Alarms suddenly blared on his hunt controls. His eyes shot to the display where three bright red symbols had detached themselves from the stealth ship. One headed to Rapier and the merchant ship, while the other two turned and sped toward Kristiansand.
“Flash! Torpedo, torpedo, torpedo!”
* * *
Number two generator room was a small space, perhaps thirteen cubic meters, filled almost entirely by heavy machinery. As Katja arrived with Wu and Hernandez, Chang glanced up from where he crouched on the deck, then returned his gaze to the open space below him. Trooper Sakiyama was below, working to break the seal on the top crate.
“The crates are protected by an encrypted EM barrier,” Chang said without preamble. “The lock will take at least fifteen minutes to pick, but if we smash the surface we risk a blast. And the contents will probably be destroyed.”
Katja turned to Wu, who was huffing and puffing, his face red and slick. “Unlock the crates.”
Holding up his hands placatingly, Wu nodded and climbed down into the hold. He typed in a sequence of numbers on a tiny control panel, causing a little red light to turn green. He looked up, nodding again.
Katja gestured at the crate. “Open it.”
As Wu was fumbling with the lock, Katja heard Thomas once again in her ear. But it was no soothing murmur she heard.
“Alpha-One, Mother! Stealth attack! Withdraw! Withdraw!”
The lock clicked open, and Wu lifted the lid. It took only a moment for Katja to recognize the cargo inside. The long, silver tubes were unmistakably mountable missile launchers. These weren’t just weapons—these were components for Centauri robotic weapons.
Frustration welled up inside her. The first real evidence of Centauri involvement and she was being ordered to withdraw. That awful, familiar feeling crawled up her throat—uncertainty. Disobeying a direct order was unthinkable, but to abandon such a find was equally so.
An idea struck her. “Alpha-One, roger. We’re br
inging one of the crates with us.”
“Mother, negative. Leave everything behind and get your ass out of there!”
“Alpha-One, roger.” Switch to strike freq. “All units, Alpha-One. Break away.”
The two younger troopers beside her turned in surprise. Katja ignored them, staring impotently at the cached weapons before her.
Then the deck heaved with such violence that Katja hit the opposite bulkhead before she even knew what was happening. But instead of falling, she gasped as some invisible force slowly but powerfully tugged her sideways across the compartment. All around her, the bulkheads of the ship groaned under the stress. Her vision began to fade, and she couldn’t breathe.
Then, slowly, the pressure eased, and she sank gently to the deck. All around her, troopers were struggling to pick themselves up, eyes wide.
Chang was the first to recover. He rose and pushed Sakiyama toward the door. “You heard her! Move!”
Katja jumped down onto the opened crate. “Wu, get out.”
The merchant, his ears bleeding, stared at her blankly. She pointed her rifle at him.
“Out!”
He scrambled up out of the hold, limbs wobbling. Katja lifted her gaze. Chang and both troopers were at the door, staring at her with concern.
“Ma’am, break away?” Chang said.
“Bravo-One, put Target Zero-Zero in the engine room and then break away. Alpha-Three and I will leave in a moment.”
There was no comprehension in Chang’s eyes, but neither was there any hesitation. “Yes, ma’am.”
He and Sakiyama hustled Wu from the room. Katja crouched down on the crate, looking closely at the weapons. The faint click of her camera recorded still images to back up the live feed that her helmet always provided. If she couldn’t take the weapons, then at least she could take evidence.
Click. Click. Click.
“Ma’am,” Hernandez said, “what the fuck was that?”
Katja turned to him and reached up her hand. He yanked her out of the hold and together they ran for the strike pod.
That, Katja thought to herself, was a gravi-torpedo.
* * *
Jack slammed his fist down on the hunt controls.
The stealth ship was gone. His big dipper was deployed all the way to fourteen peets, but it still couldn’t detect any ripples in the Bulk. He impotently fired off another barbell, not caring what depth it was set at.
Virtues of War Page 11