by B. V. Larson
“Sensor data is already integrated.”
“Good. Very efficient.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Straker wiped his eyes and stared at the plots. On an old-fashioned analog clock, with the system’s star in the center, the enemy was at the top at twelve, heading downward toward Bayzos and Aynor base at two. DeChang’s escaping freighters were at three and outward. Straker on Revenge was at four and much farther inward. Freiheit was at six, closer to the star but climbing outward.
Everyone but Revenge was moving clockwise.
The Mutuality warships were cautiously approaching Aynor and Bayzos from farther out in flatspace. They wouldn’t necessarily know that Aynor Base was now deserted, and would be checking it out.
The destroyer led the light cruiser, both widely separated for maximum sensor coverage and minimum vulnerability to surprise attack, he supposed. Zaxby’s trick with the stealth mines at the Battle of Corinth—the Ruxin had bragged about that several times over the past few months—might have made them cautious. They were both banging away with max-power sensor pulses, concentrated forward.
DeChang’s fast transports, which must be carrying everyone from Aynor, continued to run like scalded dogs, ahead and outward toward flatspace. Missiles from the enemy ships still pursued, slowly overhauling them. To Straker’s eye, it looked like catching them before transit would be a toss-up. He hoped they had good point defenses. There was nothing Revenge could do.
Freiheit continued to spiral outward, rising in its stellar orbit, on the opposite side of the unnamed star of this system. Carson and Liberator hung in space nearby. The star would mask them from a detailed scan. Straker hoped the enemy took their time before personally investigating one asteroid and some ships all the way across the system.
And Revenge floated in Bayzos’ future orbital path.
Eventually, Straker spoke. “Acknowledging Captain Engels’ message and inform her we’re heading for Bayzos. Helm, plot a course for Bayzos, to emerge on the opposite side of the planet from the enemy and away from orbital debris.”
“Which enemy?”
“The Mutuality ships. They are our only enemy right now.”
“Not true, sir. The remnants of the Unmutuals remain—”
“Helm, don’t turn into a Zaxby.”
“Not understood.”
“Don’t be too literal. Our only enemy within this tactical situation is those two Mutuality ships. Understand?”
“Understood.”
Straker growled, “Great. Now plot the course.”
“Course plotted.”
“Insert and go.”
“Inserting. Accelerating within underspace.”
“Call me ten minutes before arrival. I’m going to my cabin.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Straker returned when notified, feeling much better after a meal and a few hours of dry napping, though he was chilled again. His wound still ached and itched. His suit, recharged, heated his skin to sweating temperatures.
Upon Revenge’s emergence, the sensors officer updated the display without asking. The Ruxins were getting better as they gained experience.
It looked like DeChang had gotten away. No wreckage floated near their exit point, and no residual radiation could be seen. Freiheit continued to accelerate slowly, clockwise and outward. However, the Mutuality ships’ positions showed unconfirmed.
“Bring us gently around the planet to unmask, using impellers only,” he ordered. “Act natural.”
“Not understood.”
“Keep our flight profile as similar to a natural satellite as possible.”
“Understood.”
Slowly, slowly, Revenge sped up in Bayzos orbit, imitating a chunk of rock, until they could see the moon of Aynor. Nearby, the Mutuality destroyer systematically blasted at the surface, annihilating the base and all its facilities.
Beyond, the light cruiser waited in a stable high orbit, watching over her sister ship, active sensors flooding the area.
Adrenaline surged in Straker’s veins as he saw his prey. “Helm, set course to place us directly in the light cruiser’s path for float mine deployment, three weapons, extreme proximity.”
The alien helmsman turned a pair of eyes toward Straker, as did the weapons officer. “Three weapons? That is wasteful of our limited supply of fusion warheads.”
“This isn’t a standard war cruise, hunting targets of opportunity. We absolutely must get this cruiser.”
“It will also be dangerous for us.”
“Then make sure we’re far from the blasts.”
“I’ll do my best, Captain.”
“Insert when ready,” Straker ordered, “and take us there by the shortest vector.”
The helm officer brought a third eye around, evidently quite concerned. “That will take us through Bayzos itself.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Define ‘problem’.”
Exasperated, Straker barked, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“This gas giant is large. It approaches the status of a brown dwarf. If we pass near a pocket of proto-fusion, it could leak over into underspace and alter our course, or even damage us.”
“How likely is that to happen?”
“Approximately zero point five percent.”
“One in two hundred?” he demanded.
“Approximately, sir.”
“Dammit, that’s nothing! Do it, do it now.”
“Aye aye, sir.” The Ruxin’s tentacles flew. “Insert now.”
Straker gripped his hands together behind his back and clenched his jaw to keep from railing at these people for not knowing what was relevant. He told himself that they were technically adept, but young and not blooded at war. They weren’t even extensively experienced at space travel. Still, it illustrated why mixing two cultures was fraught with unseen pitfalls.
The predictive plot showed Revenge moving down through the planet as it cut across to get ahead of the light cruiser in its orbit. Straker held his breath, waiting for some kind of bump or rumble or other sign, but there was nothing at all.
Until there was.
An alarm screeched. “Damage to the missile and tube,” said the operations officer. “Warhead is intact, but repairs must be made in order to fire. Other damage is possible.”
Straker sighed with relief. “Get on it. I mean, implement damage control procedures and make repairs. Inspect all critical systems and report to me.”
“Aye aye, sir.” The Ruxin crew swung into action.
The Revenge’s position continued to crawl through Bayzos. If the underspace engine failed, they would die within milliseconds as they emerged inside the crushing pressure of the gas giant. They would be crumpled like an empty drink bulb, never to be seen again, but the risk was worth it. The enemy could alter course at any time.
“Ten minutes to float mine deployment.”
Straker said, “Is there any indication the damage threw us off course?”
“Impossible to determine.”
“Maintain timeline, then. Deploy on the computed schedule. What I wouldn’t give for a periscope.”
“A what, sir?” asked the sensors officer.
“A device to look into normal space without leaving underspace.”
“Such a device is impossible to construct.”
Straker raised his eyebrows in amusement. “So you say. Everything’s impossible until someone figures out how to do it.”
“That is a nonsensical statement.”
“Gaah! Are you all turning into Zaxbys?”
The bridge officers permitted an increasing number of eyes to drift and peer toward him. They chittered for a moment in their language. The sensors officer eventually said, “Though we would be happy to become Zaxbys, that is also a nonsensical statement. Have we made the War Male angry by failing in our duties?”
Straker clamped down on his temper. “No, no, it’s merely the tension of combat. Carry on, you’re
all doing well.”
“We are pleased. Zaxby is an example to all of us neuters.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“He has risen above his gender. We are a downtrodden class. We are not eligible to govern or lay eggs like the females, nor are we allowed to contribute our genes for reproduction or become heroes in battle like the males. We can only work and invent things to serve the others. This is as close as we will come to glory, at least until we liberate our homeworld. Then, perhaps, we will be allowed to improve ourselves.”
Straker shook his index finger in the air and paced, sloshing. “Wait a minute. I’m pretty sure Zaxby said something about being a neuter at the moment. That it was just a phase. Don’t you people change genders throughout your life cycle?”
“You do not understand fully. Only a rare few are selected to become male or female. The rest remain neuter until they expire from old age. They may participate in the reproductive process, which is pleasurable and honorable, but the offspring are only of the male and female involved. At best, the neuter is a caretaker.”
“So you’re like workers in an anthill.”
“I do not understand your reference,” said the Ruxin.
“Never mind. But why not make you all male to crew this warship?”
“Premier Freenix fears to alter neuters to become males, beyond a few pampered individuals to provide genetic material. She is convinced too many males cause society to become unstable. They create trouble, she says. Neuters are easier to control.”
“What a load of bullshit. Look, I’m no brainiac, but I remember Academy classes where I learned that whenever you oppress one kind of people for a long time, you’re asking for a revolution. You neuters are the biggest group, right?”
“That is true.”
“Then you could free yourselves and become male or female, whatever you wanted.”
“That would lead to chaos in our society.”
“Maybe a little chaos is a good thing. Maybe it would make sure there isn’t some kind of bigger blowup later. I studied Old Earth’s revolutions. They always started with somebody standing on someone else’s neck.”
“We have no necks.”
“It’s a metaphor. The little guy always got tired of it, and felt like the only thing he could do was overthrow the system. Maybe you could get more freedom by pointing out how well you performed on this warship. Demand the right to become male if you wanted, so you could fight better.”
The sensors officer had all four eyes on Straker by this time. “Your proposal is interesting. We will discuss it among ourselves.”
Straker realized he was philosophizing a bit too much. It was an interesting sensation of power, to plant thoughts in the heads of these young Ruxins. It occurred to him he shouldn’t give them too many crazy ideas too fast, so he continued. “Just no revolutions until we’re done with this operation, okay? I need you to win this battle. That’s what it means to be military, regardless of gender. We put our personal desires aside for the good of society, at least for a while.”
“Understood. Thank you for your insights, War Male Straker.” Most of the eyes turned away again, though all the Ruxins kept at least one turned warily toward their captain.
The chrono ticked toward its appointed time.
“Float mine deployment underway,” said the weapons officer. “Mine one away.”
“Accelerating,” said the Ruxin at the helm.
“Mine two away.”
“Altering course.”
“Mine three away.”
“Inserting and accelerating at flank speed.”
The ship shook with the fusion explosions. What leaked less than one percent into underspace would obliterate almost anything nearby in normal space—assuming Straker had placed at least one of the weapons correctly.
He couldn’t put them too close to each other or the explosion of the first might destroy the second, and so on, a principle known as fratricide. He couldn’t target them actually inside the cruiser, because nuclear detonation mechanisms were delicate things, and emergence damage might turn an atomic blast into a mere dirty bomb, inconvenient but not devastating.
So he had to drop them as close to the enemy ship as possible, but not inside it. Unfortunately, as the cruiser seemed to be on high alert, it probably had allocated at least some of its energy reserves to reinforcing its hull and armor with structural fields.
Thus, the three weapons.
“Back us off. Emerge behind the nearest moon and peek out.”
The helm officer said, “Confirm: you want me to gain distance from the deployment site and use the nearest natural satellite of Bayzos in order to hide our emergence, and cautiously survey the situation.”
“Pretty sure I just said that.”
“I am confirming my understanding of your idiomatic speech, sir.”
Straker lifted his eyes to stare pleadingly at the overhead. “And you’re doing a damn fine job of it. Carry on.”
Come on, come on, Straker thought. I need to know. Did we get them or not?
“Emerging.” The visiplate showed a rocky, pockmarked moonlet nearby. “Peeking out.” The moonlet seemed to move aside.
The tactical plot updated and showed two large pieces of wreckage and a debris field where once the light cruiser had orbited. “Yes!” Straker yelled, throwing a fist in the air.
All the Ruxins looked askance at the human. “Target neutralized,” said the weapons officer.
Straker put his hands behind his back again, resuming what he thought of as a commanding aspect. “Well done, everyone. Uh… where’s that damned destroyer?”
Chapter 41
Near Bayzos.
“The destroyer is departing Bayzos orbit,” said the Ruxin at the sensors station of Revenge’s bridge. The main screen updated to show the vessel fleeing at high speed, directly away from the gas giant.
“Keep an eye on him.” Straker waited, though patience was not in his nature. Right now it looked like the destroyer was merely putting distance between herself and the unknown danger. Her captain probably thought the cruiser had hit stealth mines.
Fifteen minutes later, it appeared the destroyer had set course for Freiheit Station. Straker had hoped she would flee outward, running for sidespace, but it appeared her captain had decided to try to stop the prize asteroid from getting away.
This made sense as Freiheit’s sidespace engines were vulnerable. Destroying even one of them would ensure the Mutuality could recapture the valuable habitat at leisure.
“Ops,” Straker called out, “given the destroyer’s course, calculate the point at which they could reasonably attempt a long-range bombardment with railguns.”
“Aye aye, sir.” The Ruxin’s tentacles danced across the controls. “I should remind you that they could fire missiles at any time.”
“They have to believe there will be point defenses against missiles,” Straker replied. “They can detect the presence of ships in the area. Launching an unsupported missile spread from only one ship would be a waste. The way to get missiles through defenses is to fire a lot of them at once, mix them in with decoys, and be close enough to fire railguns and beams as well. Give the enemy too much to handle.”
“I see. That is sensible. The War Male is clever.”
“Damn sure hope so,” Straker said under his breath.
“Point calculated. Displayed.”
“Helm, lay in a course for that point. Can we catch them if we insert?”
“We cannot catch them at all,” said the helm officer. “Their ship is much faster than ours.”
Straker’s eyes roved over the screen. “What if we did an intrasystem sidespace jump?”
“Calculating. No, that would not allow us to reach the designated point any faster. Space is not flat enough.”
“Could a transit get us to Freiheit faster than going via normal space? Like the Carson did?”
“We would have to travel outward, then transit, then travel inward
again, but yes, it would save several hours over a standard course. We would still have to travel from Freiheit to the interception point, though.”
Straker sloshed over to the helm. “Do it. If we can’t intercept the destroyer, we might as well be back at Freiheit and help defend it.”
The helm officer turned two eyes to Straker while continuing to pilot the ship. “How does one defend a non-maneuverable target against long-range bombardment, sir?”
“That, I don’t know. But if we’re to have any chance, we need to get all our forces together and come up with something.”
* * *
“Incoming transmission from Revenge,” said Lorton to Engels.
She woke from her doze at the helm and stretched. She couldn’t help but think that she probably ought to go shower and get a meal before things really heated up. “Put it on.”
Straker looked tired and wet, Engels thought as she examined his image displayed on the big screen.
“Engels, this is Straker. We took out the cruiser. The destroyer is heading for you at full speed in normal space. Revenge is too slow to intercept, so we’re going to perform an intrasystem jump and reach Freiheit as soon as possible. My helm says we’ll arrive a couple of hours before the bombardment starts, but I have no idea what to do about it. You need to get your brainiacs working on some kind of solution or tactic. You may have to consider sending all our forces just to tie the enemy up. We have to keep them from bombarding with impunity. Straker out.”
Engels examined the tactical plot, noting the new contact that must be the destroyer heading their way. It was traveling anti-spinward in order to get ahead of Freiheit in its rising, accelerating orbit.
Freiheit itself traveled spinward with its southern end forward, rotating on its axis like a slow-motion bullet. Therefore the most accurate position from which to bombard it would be from directly ahead. That also put the south-pole sidespace engine front and center, completely vulnerable.
Could Freiheit be maneuvered? Engels wondered, perhaps to fly sideways to make it harder to hit the sidespace engines? Not within the time allotted. A spinning object of that mass was, in effect, an enormous gyroscope. It would resist any diversion or change of angle. Even if enough force were applied to alter its orientation, the strain would wreck the interior.