by B. V. Larson
Straker leaped onto the lead cargo hauler and the reduced convoy roared ahead. A hundred meters later, the road forked as it broke out of the jungle. “Left! Left!” he said. “Head for that freighter!”
“Not that one. It’s too slow,” said Engels from beside him. She pointed. “That one.”
“Do as she says,” said Straker.
“Too bad we couldn’t have waited for the rescue,” she said.
“Rescue?”
“I tried to tell you. I got word there was going to be a prison break from the outside. A resistance group called the Unmutuals is supposed to be on its way.”
Anger rose in Straker. “I thought that was all bullshit from Lazarus. So you’re saying I should have cooperated?”
Engels shrugged, looking away.
Maybe he should have. Was Lazarus right? Had Straker’s ego gotten the best of him? If he’d have cooperated for a few days, maybe these Unmutuals would have broken them out and they’d even now be in sidespace, escaping to some hidden rebel base.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, “but it doesn’t matter now. Unless you have a way to get in touch with them?”
Engels shook her head. “I have no idea, but somebody might. Get me on the bridge of that ship and we’ll see. Worst case, we jump away and find our way back to Hundred Worlds space.”
“Agreed.”
The convoy pulled up next to the ship Engels had indicated and the prisoners bailed out onto the concrete surface. In the distance they could see flashing lights and scurrying activity.
“This thing’s locked!” Loco said from the ship’s main hatch.
“Auxiliary hatch, by the canard here,” Engels said, running to duck under the ship’s belly. “This is a captured Gorman-12C, a fast naval auxiliary. If they don’t know about the default code…” She popped the panel cover and tapped the buttons.
The hatch dropped open. Straker pushed her aside and lifted his weapon. “I’ll go first.”
“Right and up,” Engels said. “Get the main door open and the rest inside.”
The ship appeared deserted, and within moments Engels had buckled herself behind the helm and powered the ship up.
Something rattled against the hull. “They’re shooting at us,” Loco said from the operations station. “Small arms so far, but it’s only a matter of time before they find a tank.”
“That’s why I chose a military vessel,” replied Engels. “I’ve got the armor reinforcement fields on, and I’ve activated the point-defense lasers. Not even a tank should hurt us.” She plugged in her brainlink and grabbed the manual controls. “Strap in or lie on the floor, people. This might get bumpy.”
Straker buckled himself into the command seat and lay back. A moment later, his eyes tried to roll out of their sockets as heavy acceleration crushed him. He heard Engels grunting in her seat and he rolled his head to look at her. Her face was drawn into a snarl and the tendons stood out on her neck as she screamed defiance at the universe.
She’d never looked lovelier.
The ship shuddered and atmosphere roared against its surface. Straker could see the fusion throttles shoved beyond their safety stops and the impeller gauges redlined.
“Do we really need to push it this hard?” Straker yelled over the noise.
In reply, Engels pointed at the forward sensor display. The green icon in the center must be the Gorman they rode. Four red arrows pointed toward it, two from the right and two from the left.
“Attack ships,” she said. “We can’t outrun them or outfight them. Our only hope is they don’t have shipkillers aboard. If we can outlast them until we reach flatspace, we can jump away.”
The noise tapered off to a dull roar as they left atmosphere, but the press of acceleration didn’t wane.
“We’ll make it past them, but they’re going to catch up pretty quick,” Engels said. “The problem is, firing straight up our stern the way they are, our engines are vulnerable. I’m running full out, and once they line up I’ll jink and evade, but our chances look pretty poor.”
“What about those Unmutual rebels?” asked Straker. “Maybe they’ve transited in already.”
“Loco, broadcast in the clear. Try to raise them, or anyone.” Engels waggled her controls, and Straker’s inner ear wobbled with it.
Loco slipped on a comlink. “Any ship, any ship, this is… shit, what are we?”
“Tell them we’re escaping Unmutuals. That should get their attention if they’re out there.”
“Any ship, any ship, this is Lieutenant Loco of the Escaping Unmutuals. We’re in a fast lifter and have four attack craft on our asses. We need help. Please respond.”
“Set that to repeat,” said Engels.
“Can I do anything?” Straker asked her.
“No. Lie there and rest, and let me do my job, Derek. Our point-defense lasers are on autofire. Those are our only weapons, but I doubt the attack ships will get close enough to bring them into play.”
Straker watched as the red icons fell back slower and slower, and then the range stabilized… and began to close.
“They’ve broken atmo.” Engels tapped the display. “They haven’t fired shipkillers, which is a clear sign they don’t have them. They’re single-pilot models, so they can’t board us. They’ll either have railguns or heavy beams as their primary centerline weapons. I’m guessing railguns, as they haven’t begun firing.”
“That’s good, right?” asked Loco. “Railguns have shorter range.”
“Against maneuvering targets yes, but they hit harder. Against fixed targets, their range is as far as a penetrator will travel. They’ll have small lasers as secondary weapons.”
“How long until we’re in railgun range?” asked Straker.
Engels looked over at Loco. “Ops officer?”
“Hey, I barely know how to work this board and you want me to calculate tactical in three dimensions?”
“You’d better figure it out,” she replied.
“Perhaps I may be of assistance?”
Straker turned to see the Ruxin, Zaxby, flow across the deck. The heavy acceleration kept the boneless octopoid from standing upright.
“If you could reduce thrust for just long enough to exchange seats,” he said, “I believe I can perform operations officer duties with superb efficiency.”
“You have six seconds, starting… now.” Engels cut the engines, continuing acceleration on impellers alone, and exaggerated her evasive maneuvers.
Loco rolled out of his seat and lay on the deck while Zaxby replaced him and plugged in his brainlink. His tentacles danced over the controls. “You may apply thrust again.”
Engels shoved the throttles forward to maximum.
“In answer to your question,” Zaxby said, “their hit probability against this ship will rise above ten percent per shot in approximately nineteen minutes. Soon after that, they will close to optimum range and achieve above thirty percent per shot. I calculate it will take an average of seven strikes before at least one of our two engines is damaged.”
“Oh, shit. You’re a brainiac, aren’t you?” asked Loco.
“The proper term is Enhanced Special Mental, I believe—but technically, no. I have no genetic enhancements, but many of my people lean naturally toward intellectual pursuits. In fact—”
“He’s a brainiac all right,” Loco said. “They always talk too much and have to prove how smart they are.”
“You talk too much too, Loco,” said Engels.
“Yeah, but I’m hilarious.”
“All of you, stick to your business,” snapped Straker. “Zaxby, we’re glad to have your skills, but we’re not brainiacs, so simplify and summarize for us. How long until we lose our engines?”
“Simply put,” Zaxby said heavily, “I can only give you probabilities. A lucky hit will reduce the time, or perhaps we will beat the odds. Then again—”
“Give me an estimate!”
“Approximately twenty-seven minutes, plus or minu
s three.”
“Finally, a straight answer,” Loco laughed.
“Is that transmission still going out?” Straker asked.
“Affirmative,” replied Zaxby. “I am activating all sensors and widening the transmission to extend into more electromagnetic bands.”
Long minutes passed as the range closed.
“They’re firing,” said Zaxby in a remarkably calm voice.
Engels immediately increased her evasive maneuvers. “This will slow us down, but it’s better than being hit.”
“How long until flatspace?” asked Straker.
Zaxby answered the question. “Two hours, four minutes and twelve seconds.”
“You sure?” Loco asked.
“Very sure,” Zaxby said.
“Because, you know, I wouldn’t want it to be two hours, four minutes and thirteen seconds.”
Zaxby’s swiveled two of his four eyes to Loco. “You are an annoying being.”
“Yeah well, if anyone was qualified to say so, it would be you, squidly.”
“I am a full lieutenant in the Fleet Arm of the Hundred Worlds, and I resent being compared to a squid. Shall I liken you to a simple primate?”
“Would you two shut the hell up?” cried Engels as she worked her controls.
“They’re firing again,” Zaxby said. The ship shuddered with an impact. “Hull strike, negligible damage.”
“I thought you said it would be almost a half hour until they hit us!” snarled Straker.
“I gave you the probabilities. Even my vast analytical capacity cannot exactly calculate future outcomes with so many variables involved.”
Over the next ten minutes, four more shots hit their ship.
The fifth changed the game.
The acceleration dropped by almost half. “Crap! We’ve lost an engine.” Engels turned to Straker. “We’re not going to make it.”
Chapter 20
Enemy space, over Yorinda.
The four attack ships moved in closer as the struggling transport continued to evade wildly. Engels expertly plied her controls and Zaxby fired point-defense lasers at extreme range in order to complicate their enemies’ targeting, but eventually the inevitable happened.
The ship rocked, and the rumble of acceleration died. “Last engine down. We’re on impellers alone now,” said Engels. “They can pick us apart if they want to.”
“I am receiving an audio transmission,” said Zaxby.
“Put it on,” said Straker.
“Stolen lifter, this is Echo lead. Reverse your course to land on Yorinda or we will continue firing.”
“That must be the name of that planet we were on,” said Engels.
“Don’t answer,” said Straker. “Keep going. Do we still have hull reinforcement?”
Engels nodded. “Yes, our armor should hold for a while. This is a naval ship, not a civilian model, thank Cosmos.”
“Will it hold long enough?”
“No,” Zaxby said.
“What, no precise probabilities?” said Loco.
The Ruxin’s many eyes narrowed to slits. “The probability of crippling us sufficiently to take us in tow prior to our earliest transit point exceeds the ninety-ninth percentile. I thought you’d like the situation to be summarized.”
The ship shook with another strike, then another. “Five more minutes of this and we’re going to start losing systems,” said Engels. “Ten minutes and we’ll be in bad trouble.”
“I have something new on sensors…” Zaxby said, swinging all four eyes to examine displays. “An inbound contact ahead of us. It appears to be a frigate.”
“Shit. We’re done,” Loco groaned.
“The frigate is moving toward us at flank acceleration.”
Straker sat up in his chair to stare at the tactical screen. “How long until it’s in range?”
Zaxby replied, “As I’ve repeatedly tried to explain, that depends on many factors. There’s—”
“Twelve minutes,” interrupted Engels, “maybe ten, if its weapons suite is similar to most warships that size. That’s not counting shipkiller missiles, of course, which they could fire any time. Why? We can’t outrun it.”
“I don’t want to outrun it. Head straight for it.”
Engels complied. “You think it’s the Unmutuals?”
“I don’t have to think. If it’s not, it won’t matter. If it is, it’s our only chance.”
“Transmission incoming, tightbeam, unencrypted,” said Zaxby. “Patching in.”
“Escaping Unmutuals, this is the Unmutual frigate Carson. Hang in there. We’ll take care of these hornets.”
A cheer echoed throughout the Gorman, audible via the open door to the bridge. Straker found himself shaking his one good fist in the air.
“Woohoo! Come kick their asses!” Loco cried.
“Missile launches detected,” said Zaxby. “Two shipkillers. If this frigate has standard weaponry, that constitutes one salvo. Two more now...” He waved a tentacle at the tactical screen. Two sets of two bright yellow icons separated from the frigate and sped toward the transport and its harassing attack ships.
“The attack ships are running!” said Engels.
What she said was true. The four attack ships accelerated at maximum in a starburst of shallow curves, preserving their momentum while turning away and looping back toward the planet Yorinda.
Straker dropped his head against the seat rest in relief, feeling a sudden exhaustion come over him as his adrenaline levels fell. Though bolstered by the Hok biotech, his body had been through hell. Underfed and tortured, deprived of rest and of hope, and now wounded, he felt as if he could sleep for a week.
Straker awoke from dozing when the hull clanged.
“What’s happening?” he said, forcing himself to sit up.
“We’re docked,” Engels said. She shut down her controls and unplugged. “They’ve got us now, and they’re hauling us back toward flatspace. I sure hope these Unmutuals are better than the assholes we just escaped from.”
“They could hardly be worse,” Straker said.
“On the contrary, there is no reason they should be less immoral,” Zaxby said. “For example, they might be cannibals.”
“Cannibals?” Loco demanded. “Where the hell do you get this stuff?”
“I am merely envisioning the worst possibility I can think of. Hopefully, we shall be less disappointed.”
“Let’s find out,” Straker said, standing and heading toward the docking hatch.
“I shall remain on the bridge,” Zaxby said. “One never knows how new humans will react when seeing one of my species.”
“I know how I’d react,” Loco said. “Hot oil and tartar sauce.”
“Shut up, Loco,” Engels said. “He’s a damn good bridge officer and kinda cute.”
“Kinda cute? Hmm…” Loco raised his eyebrows.
“Why do I always get the feeling you’re thinking something sexual?” she asked as she followed Straker.
“Because I am?”
Straker reached the airlock, where Heiser and several other armed troops waited. “Lower your weapons, but stand ready,” he said. “These people drove off the attack ships, but you never know.”
When the hatches opened and the pressure between the two ships stabilized, a big woman in combat gear stepped though, blaster carbine in one hand. Her brown hair was short under her helmet. Shaded by the visor, her face was pockmarked, and her expression was unpleasantly suspicious.
“Who’s in charge here?” she barked.
“I am,” Straker responded. “Derek Straker, Assault Captain, Hundred Worlds armed forces.”
The woman grunted. “Hundred Worlds, eh? I’m Major Ramirez, Unmutuals. I’m in charge now, got that? You have no rank unless my boss gives you one. You’re just a bunch of rookies as far as I’m concerned.”
Straker engaged the safety on his slugthrower and dropped it. Before it hit the deck, he snatched the woman’s carbine from her hand and poin
ted it at her. She stared in shock.
“We’re more than novices, Major. Most of us are military. We’re thankful for the rescue, but I for one am tired of being treated like shit, and so are my people. I won’t tolerate it.”
The woman quickly got over her surprise. “You’ll do what you’re told or we’ll blow you off our hull and leave you floating in space.”
Straker smirked. “I don’t think you will. You got word to the prison that you were coming to our rescue, and you traveled all the way from somewhere in this fine warship just to liberate us. I have to wonder why, out of all the many facilities in the thousand worlds of the Mutuality, you came to this rock.”
The major put her hands on her ample hips. “Because I was ordered to, that’s why. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll follow orders too.”
“I’m happy to follow sensible orders from an officer I respect, Major, but I don’t know you and I don’t know your organization.” He glanced at Engels. “We still have sidespace capability, right?”
“Affirmative,” said Engels. “Now that we’re not under attack, we can use impellers to maneuver to a transit point and jump away.”
Straker nodded. “Get back to the bridge and prepare to jump.”
Ramirez stared at Straker. “You can’t jump while docked!”
“We’ll blow ourselves clear if we have to.”
“You’ll kill yourselves.”
“And you too, if you stay aboard,” Straker promised. “Feel free to leave.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“It’s been said.”
The two stared each other down. Finally, Ramirez sighed. “Fine. I’ll respect your ranks until General DeChang decides what to do with you. But I’m still senior.”
“It’s your ship, it’s your rescue. You’re in charge, and we’ll follow your orders as long as they make sense. But listen to this: we didn’t escape from one prison just to be put into another.”
“Fair enough.”
“And,” he added, “we’ll keep our weapons.”