Honor Bound dhp-2

by Rick Partlow

  Villanueva covered her mouth to suppress a bubbling laugh, but Jock didn’t even try… he guffawed loudly until Vinnie, red-faced, elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop braying you damn Aussie jackass,” he said, “or I’ll field-promote you to Lieutenant just so I can bust you to Sergeant again.”

  “The rammer is one minute out,” Pirelli said. “Ready to hit her with the emitters, sir.”

  “Drop the drive field,” Patel told Sweeny. “Tactical, activate the emitters and open fire with the Gauss cannons.”

  “Aye, sir, firing now.”

  On the screen, the computer simulated the beams of directed gravimetic energy as shimmering lines connecting the Sheridan to the ramship… and where they touched, there was a flickering in the blue halo that represented the ship’s Eysselink field until it winked out entirely. Then the streams of tungsten penetrators shot out from the ship’s accelerator coils and cored the defenseless ship like an apple, piercing her light hull armor as if it weren’t even there.

  Burning oxygen shot out of the huge holes in the ramship’s hull as the streams of projectiles trailed down the length of the vessel and finally punctured the drive pods…

  “Reactivate drive field now!” Patel snapped, leaning forward in his chair, knowing what was coming next.

  Sweeny had just hit the controls and hadn’t even had time to speak the confirmation when the ramship’s containment fields failed and its antimatter fuel contacted the bare metal of the storage field projectors…

  There was a fiercely bright light, like a star had ignited in space ahead of them and the optical viewers blanked out as their filters were overloaded, and then they were past the conflagration and heading for the exit gate.

  Patel sat back in his chair with an exhale of relief that was inaudible over the cheers of the bridge crew. Sweeny and Pirelli shared a nod of congratulations, both of them grinning with triumph.

  “My regards to Captain Mahoney,” Patel said with a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe we can keep you all on board after all.”

  Valenzuela shot Vinnie a grin and Jock slapped him on the shoulder, then tried to fake an apologetic look. “Oh, sorry, sir… I shouldn’t have touched your august personage.”

  “One minute to the gate unless you care to decelerate, Admiral,” Sweeny told him.

  “I think we’ll take this one at speed as well, Helm,” Patel said, shaking his head. “Pirelli, the minute that gate is activated, I want a full spread of Area Denial missile shot through it… make sure they detonate before we get there, though.”

  “Got it, sir… I recommend we decrease to one half G acceleration now.”

  “Do it, Helm.”

  After so long boosting at over one gravity acceleration, McKay felt like he might float away when the push decreased to a half G.

  “Activating emitters now,” Sweeny said. “Gate is opening.”

  “Launching missiles,” Pirelli said as two dozen of the weapons streaked out of the electromagnetic coils and disappeared through the wormhole.

  “Gate entry in thirty seconds,” Sweeny said.

  “Here’s where we find out if you live to be a major,” Jock said aside to Vinnie.

  “Oh, sweet mother,” Cal Orton whispered from the copilot’s seat, crossing himself.

  Darkness consumed the Sheridan once more and when the light returned it was also all-consuming, the spheres of fusion explosions lighting up space all around them. And in the midst of it all, a pair of warships bore down on them, so close they could see them on optical alone…

  And then the drive field was up, as a chorus of voices began shouting status reports until Patel had to yell: “Silence on deck!” and they all ceased, leaving the bridge in an unnatural stillness.

  “Tactical!” Patel looked to Pirelli.

  “The AD missiles ignited several mines,” she reported quickly. “We have two bogies with a hundred kilometers… I think we took a Gauss round to the nose, but it didn’t penetrate the armor. Drive field is up and we’re good for now, but sensors are detecting at least one ramship within two light seconds. The primary here is a G5 main sequence star, there are three terrestrial planets and one large gas giant with five moons-we’re about two light seconds from the gas giant. It matches Mironov’s description of the system that holds Novoye Rodina.”

  “Helm,” Patel said, turning to Sweeny.

  “We’re running star patterns and constellations, should have a location in a few minutes. I’m detecting multiple gates in close proximity as well.”

  “Accelerate to one point five gravities. Take us closer to Novoye Rodina,” Patel ordered. “I want to make a pass within optical range, get some details. Keep us ahead of those ramships though.”

  “Accelerating to one point five g’s, aye,” Sweeny repeated, sliding a finger along a holographic projection to feed power to the Eysselink field. “Making course for a flyby of Novoye Rodina.”

  The viewscreen showed the Protectorate ships beginning to fall behind as the Sheridan accelerated. The Protectorate vessels could probably make two or three g’s, McKay knew, but they couldn’t keep it up for long.

  “Bogies are launching Shipbusters at us, sir,” Pirelli reported. “Four… no, six. Accelerating at ten gravities. They have to know they can’t hurt us with the drive field on, sir.”

  “They may know that we can’t hurt them with the field on, Commander,” Patel reminded her. “And it will be chancier for us to make an attack of any sort with a whole row of Shipbusters lined up and waiting for our field to go down.”

  As the ship swung around to make a run by the Protectorate homeworld, McKay could see the gas giant appear on the screen’s optical cameras. A dull orange, it had a clearly visible ring and as he watched a rocky, asteroidal moon passed across its mottled face.

  “A lot of the gates seem to be near the orbits of gas giants,” he said to Patel over his ‘link. “That must be significant somehow.”

  “Convenient source of energy and material,” the Admiral speculated. “Or perhaps the large gravity well has something to do with it. The science geeks can figure it out after the dust settles.”

  McKay had to smile at that: Patel had graduated from MIT with a Masters in Theoretical Physics before going to Fleet Officers’ Candidate School. Most starship captains had a scientific background, but McKay happened to know that Patel was a dissertation away from his PhD-and likely would remain a dissertation away until he retired and had time for research.

  Assuming we live long enough for him to retire, McKay had to remind himself. He fervently wished he were on the bridge; it felt incredibly claustrophobic in the shuttle cockpit. He knew it was purely psychological, that he was in instant contact with the bridge any time, but he also felt isolated down here in the shuttle bay, away from the place decisions were made.

  “Admiral,” Commander Sweeny said, “we have the report from the star analysis: we know where we are. 59 Arietis… and it’s a long way from home, sir. We are 210 light years from Earth.”

  McKay shaped a silent whistle. It would take them, he calculated, over two years to get home using the Eysselink drive… if they had enough antimatter, which they didn’t.

  “I guess that settles that,” Patel murmured half to himself, apparently having done the same math in his head. “We’re taking the wormholes home or we’re not getting home.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sweeny agreed. “It’s going to take us 40 hours to reach optical range of Novoye Rodina at our current acceleration sir.”

  “Give it another… say, four hours, Mr. Sweeny, then take us down to one g acceleration. The ships pursuing us will be low on fuel by then and won’t be able to keep up their current acceleration any longer. McKay, when we slow to one g, I’m going to release everyone from the shuttles and landers until we get closer to the planet. No point in squatting in there for two days.” Patel grinned. “And I know how you miss standing behind my command chair, ready to jostle my elbow…”

  “Something has
been bothering me, D’mitry,” McKay said to Podbyrin as they faced each other over a chess board in the Russian’s quarters. They’d been released from the shuttles hours ago and McKay had decided to pay a visit to the man while he could, since he’d been unable to look in on him in person while baby-sitting Mironov.

  “Is it the fact that I am about to take your rook?” Podbyrin asked, fingers working in anticipation as he waited for McKay to complete his move.

  McKay frowned, realizing the box he’d been lured into. “No, though that is bothersome. What’s bothering me, D’mitry, is all the Protectorate ships we’ve been running into.”

  “Well, you have been getting closer and closer to Novoye Rodina,” Podbyrin said with a shrug. “Did you not think you would meet Protectorate forces along the way?”

  “He can’t have built all these ships in just the last few years,” McKay shook his head thoughtfully. “Most of them have been pirated freighters, even insystem ships he must have taken over the last few decades-ships we thought the Belt Pirates had grabbed. So if he had them, why didn’t he use them when he attacked Earth?”

  “The answer to that is simple, McKay,” Podbyrin tsk’ed. “The more ships he brought with him to Earth, the better the chance that one of them would mutiny and surrender. General Antonov, as you may have gathered, is not a trusting man. It is one thing to leave a few ships in an isolated system when the captains do not have the coordinates of the wormholes that lead to Earth. It is another to show them the Promised Land and expect them to launch fusion bombs at it if your plan doesn’t work.”

  “So the men he brought with him to Earth were his most trusted officers,” McKay mused. “And they all died. I wonder how he’s been able to maintain control since then?”

  “Through fear and intimidation, I am sure,” the Russian officer responded with a snort. “As always. And who would not be intimidated? He still has his scientists, and they control the biomechs. The man can make people for Christ’s sake… and when some of them are as good looking as Yevgenia, well, you can buy many men’s loyalty with that sort of reward.”

  “Yevgenia?” McKay frowned. He’d heard that name before, but he couldn’t remember where.

  “Yes, that was his sex toy… that blonde thing on his ship. You told me she killed your Sergeant with a grenade. He named her after his wife… she died in the war with the Chinese, along with the rest of his surviving family.”

  “Where have I heard that name before?” McKay fretted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He was sure he’d never known that the biomech woman had been named…

  “Yevgenia…” He hissed the word. “His wife. His family… they died in the war.” His eyes went wide. “Oh holy shit!” He keyed his ‘link, calling ship’s security. “This is Colonel McKay, where is Mr. Mironov right now?”

  “He complained of stomach pain, sir,” came the answer, “so we sent someone to escort him to sickbay. Let me check on the man I sent with him.” There was a pause that seemed way too long to McKay. “Uh, sir… Kowalski isn’t answering his ‘link. Let me check the monitors while I contact sickbay.” More moments passed, but McKay was already standing and heading for the cabin door. “Sir, Mironov never reported to sickbay… I haven’t been able to locate him yet.”

  “We injected him with a transponder when he was captured,” McKay snapped, stepping out into the corridor. “It’s in your system’s file on him… find him now!” He glanced both ways along the corridor, trying to decide which way to go, which way made more sense… shuttle bay one direction, engineering and life support another.

  “The transponder code is in the file, sir,” the security officer confirmed. “But it’s not responding. It’s not currently active.”

  “Send out an immediate shipwide alert,” McKay ordered. “Make it a personal alert, over the ‘links… every ‘link except Kowalski’s. I want him found now. And I want engineering and the shuttle bays locked down… no one gets in but me or my people, not even security, you got it?”

  “Yes, sir, Colonel,” the security officer responded quickly. “Doing it now.”

  Engineering, he decided, breaking into a run down the corridor. “Vinnie, Jock,” he called over his ‘link, “Mironov’s in the wind… get to engineering now!” Not waiting for a response, he touched his ‘link’s call button again. “Admiral Patel, this is McKay.”

  “McKay,” the Admiral’s voice buzzed in his ear. “I just heard the alert… what in the hell is going on?”

  “Mironov is missing sir, and I may be totally off the reservation here, sir, but… I don’t know how it’s possible, but I think somehow Mironov is Antonov.”

  ”What?” McKay winced as the Admiral’s exclamation rang in his ear.

  “Like I said, Admiral, I may be nuts, but I think we should find him now and I’ve ordered that engineering and the shuttle bay be locked down until we can…”

  “Colonel McKay,” another voice interrupted over the line. “This is Lieutenant James from Security, sir. Engineering isn’t responding. I’ve sent security to lock it down but…”

  McKay was rounding a corner, heading for the lift station when the Earth normal gravity that one g acceleration had been providing abruptly cut out, leaving him floating helplessly toward the ceiling. Yelping in surprise, McKay covered his head with his arms and took the impact on his shoulder; thankfully, the ceilings and walls were fairly well padded.

  “McKay!” Patel yelled. “We’ve lost acceleration! The drive field is down!”

  “Yes, sir,” McKay grunted, pushing off from the wall and heading for the emergency access shafts next to the lift station-he didn’t want to be stuck in the lift if the power suddenly went out. “I’d noticed that.”

  “It’s worse than that,” Patel informed him after a moment’s pause. The Admiral’s voice was as close to panic as he had ever heard it. “McKay… somehow, he managed to eject our antimatter stores. The plasma drives aren’t igniting… we’re dead in space. And McKay, those Shipbusters are still inbound.”

  McKay closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Shannon.

  “Aye, sir,” he acknowledged. “I’m on it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Captain Joyce Minishimi had to fight an urge to spit as the acrid taste of sideways lingered in her mouth. “Tactical,” she said, blinking her eyes to try to force them to focus, “report.”

  Lt. Commander Gianeto shook his head clear, his pushing-regulation-length dark hair whipping back and forth like a dog trying to shake off water. “Umm.,.” he stuttered, trying to make his brain work after the transition through the jumpgate. “Ma’am, we have a K-class star. Two gas giants… we’re in the orbital path of the closer one, but it’s a good ways off. Looks like a couple terrestrial planets closer in and that’s about all we’re gonna get on optical, since we don’t have gravimetics.” He waited as more sensors came online, filling in the gaps. “We aren’t reading any active scans, no obvious signs of habitation yet. According to spectrometry, the terrestrials aren’t habitable, at least not by us.”

  “Helm, how far are we from the next gate?” Minishimi asked.

  “This one’s close-less than 50,000 kilometers, Captain,” Lt. Witten said, seemingly fully recovered from the transition. Some people, Minishimi mused, appeared to have no problem with it at all, while others needed as much as a half hour to get their heads straight. Witten seemed imperturbable, all square jaw and blonde buzz cut. “Permission to set course for it?”

  “By all means, Mr. Witten,” she replied. They’d only left the Sheridan a few days before, but they’d transited three of the wormholes already, a slow and tedious process with only their plasma drive for propulsion. At least they’d figured a way to use the electromagnetic launch system for the missiles to place the warhead to open the gate: that was much faster than having a lander place the bomb.

  There was a faint push as Witten fired the maneuvering thrusters, swinging the ship’s nose around ninety degrees.

  “Acce
lerating at one half g,” Witten announced.

  Minishimi felt pressed into her seat by the plasma drives as the ship moved ponderously forward. She found the sensation frustrating: without her Eysselink drive, the Decatur felt as responsive as a slug. She had been hoping that one of the jumps would take them through a Republic colony system where they could pick up more antimatter, but so far they’d all been strange to her and foreign to the ship’s computers, and not one had contained a single habitable world.

  “Loading the fusion trigger into the launchers,” Gianeto told her. “We can launch it right before turnover.”

  “Your call, Commander.”

  “Turnover in ten seconds,” Witten informed him. “Plasma drive shutdown.”

  “Launching the trigger device,” Gianeto said as the acceleration faded and they all floated up against their restraints. “Detonation in ten minutes.”

  “Executing turnover.” Witten sketched a command and the maneuvering thrusters spun the ship around to face its massive engine bell towards the still-closed wormhole. “Deceleration commencing.”

  “Ma’am,” Gianeto frowned as the half-g burn once again gifted them with the illusion of gravity. “I’m picking up something.”

  “What is it, Mr. Gianeto?”

  “Not sure, ma’am, but I got a lidar blip on one of the moons of that gas giant. Something was more reflective than the background, for just a second.”

  “Is it a bogie, Commander?” She leaned forward in her command chair, concerned.

  “Can’t say for sure,” he admitted. “There’s a possibility of a volcanic eruption or other outgassing. We’re too far away for a definitive visual.”

  “Keep an eye on it with the rear sensors even after we do the turnover,” she cautioned him. “I wouldn’t put it past Antonov to have someone out here.”

  “Deceleration complete, executing turnover. Transition in five minutes at this velocity.”

  “Trigger device ignition in three minutes,” Gianeto piped up. “Still nothing from the sensors.”