by Adam Gaffen
She bobbed her head quickly and left.
“I NEED SOLUTIONS,” said Whitmore, staring at the countdown timer until the Orion plate’s impact. It was under fifty minutes now and was the focus of everyone’s attention. Compared to the plate, the ships were annoyances. “Missiles?”
“Similar problem to the ships,” said McKnight. “They detonate on impact, but at those speeds the impact is more likely to crush the warhead before it fires. It would be like trying to stop a truck with spitballs.”
“Colonel McKnight’s analogy is correct,” Diana added. “And detonation of a fission device ahead of the plate is unlikely to have sufficient effect.”
“Oberon’s ass.”
“What we need is a fusion bomb,” McKnight said.
“Which we don’t have.”
“Which we don’t have,” agreed McKnight.
None of their weapons were designed for a problem of this magnitude. The Orion was a hemispherical plate of durasteel, 1500 meters across and anywhere between 10 and 30 meters thick. Although the plate wasn’t solid, it was still composed multiple half-meter thick layers braced by meter-wide structural cross-members.
The lasers, the primary weapons of the Federation, were designed for use against other starships. A laser could cripple a starship with a few precisely-aimed shots without necessarily destroying the entire vessel. The energy torpedoes which the Defiant-class mounted were less precise and more destructive, true. But they, too, were designed to disrupt complex systems, not brute force. They were also limited in quantity, which meant the D2’s torpedoes were needed to try to divert the oncoming ships.
The most fundamental issue was the plate was dumb. At this stage in its journey it was a hundred million tonnes of steel on a ballistic path. There were no life-support systems to disrupt, no engines to shut down, not even any canisters of volatiles to rupture and force it off-course.
Lasers would burn through it, and in the process impart some small change to the angular momentum, but the impact would largely be nullified by the straight-on course the plate was taking.
“Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. What about the Wolves? Could we push it off-course?”
“Analyzing. Unlikely.”
“Why not? They moved the Missouri with fewer Wolves than are sitting on Luna!”
“Their ability to divert the inbound mass is not the concern. Timing is the major issue, Admiral. It will take a minimum of 20 minutes for the Wolves to reach the plate, if they lifted off immediately. More likely it would be 25 to 30 minutes before their arrival, which would allow too little time for them to divert the plate sufficiently.”
“What about Endeavour? They could get here in seconds, and their tractor beam is more powerful than all the Wolves put together.”
“Analyzing. Possible. Likelihood of success is 52.1%.”
“Better than zero. Endeavour, status.”
Kiri’s voice filled the CCIC. “The fleet’s being a bit stubborn. Five totally destroyed, three crippled and drifting, six damaged, two broke off and are running out of the ecliptic.”
“I need you back here. Fast.”
“Breaking off and returning.” Whitmore heard Stewart passing the order to Sanzari before she returned to the comm. “Orders?”
As briefly as she could Whitmore explained.
“Forty seconds, Admiral. We’ll see what we can do.”
“You’ve no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
“I rather think I do. Stewart out.”
“THAT’S THE LAST OF them,” Boomer reported as the Artemis fighter shredded itself under the imbalanced acceleration.
“Thank Christ,” Daniela breathed.
They’d done it. The blow the Wolves had struck had briefly staggered their opponents, given Daniela’s pilots enough time to regroup and finally take to offense. Even though they were still outnumbered better than 2:1 they’d used their superior speed and maneuverability ruthlessly.
It hadn’t been without cost.
Nymeria was reduced to six ships, including her own: Vortex, Wrong Way, Messy, Lazy, and Dart. Red Squadron was down to four: Shooting Star, Locksmith, Digger, and Beaver. And the Admiral. She couldn’t forget her. At one point she’d thought Kendra dead for sure, when three Artemis fighters had converged on the smaller Mark II. Kendra had pivoted her ship around the center axis as if it was a spinning top, fired on the one on her six, then continued the pivot to starboard, lining up with the second fighter and taking it out too. The third fighter, seeing the changed odds, had tried to break off but Kendra had run it down swiftly and knocked it out.
Now the skies were finally clear and the Wolves were safely on the ground again.
“Njord, Nymeria Actual.”
“Go.” Colona sounded stressed, unlike her usually calm demeanor.
“Fighters eliminated.”
“Hold one.”
Kendra broke in. “Danni, what’s going on?”
“Getting orders, Admiral.”
“I say we resume our mission.”
“Yes, Admiral. But Admiral Whitmore’s in charge of the military side of Starfleet, by your directive. With all due respect, you’re not in my chain of command, especially when you’re flying under me.”
“You’re not going to let me forget, are you?”
“No, Admiral. Sweet flying, by the way. When did you find time to practice?”
“Thank you. It’s amazing what you have time for when your other half is light-years away.”
“I understand completely,” Daniela said with feeling. Her husband was assigned to Enterprise as well. Further conversation was cut off by Colona’s return.
“Commander, divert to assist Defender 2. Captain Orloff will direct you once on-site. Downloading coordinates to you now.”
Daniela checked the coordinates while answering. “Roger, Njord. Direwolf flight, we’ve got a new mission. Follow me.”
Kendra received the coordinates and altered course.
“What’s going on?” asked Cass.
“Not sure. Going to do a little backdoor digging. Brie, get me Hecate.”
“Hecate?” Cass was surprised by the choice.
“She’s going to be less busy than Diana, and less likely to rat us out to Whitmore.”
“Hi Kendra, hi Cass, boy this is something, I really don’t know what I can do to help, everybody’s so busy and nobody’s talking to me so what’s up?”
“I don’t know; I’ve been a little busy. What’s going on?”
“Well, you launched on your mission, then there were these missiles which a Martian fleet fired at us so D2 and Endeavour went to take care of them, and then Diana found those ships you were building for the UE, they managed to launch them and they’re headed for the habitat, and oh yeah now the plate from the Orion, we’ve got to deal with that too. Kendra? You there? Kendra?”
Kendra had opened a channel to Whitmore and was getting much the same information, if a little slower.
“What can we do?”
“Do what you can to assist D2. Endeavour’s on-site now and is getting ready to divert the plate.”
“Not going to work,” Cass said.
“Eh?”
“If they try to apply the beam to an edge to divert it, they’ll just set it spinning. If they push near the center to slow it they’re going to be splattered like a bug on a windscreen. And if they try to pull it from the rear to slow it they’re going to burn out the tractor.”
“Diana disagrees, Commander.” Whitmore’s tone could have chilled meat.
“Diana’s wrong, Admiral. Maybe the machinery can take it, but ships are more than machinery. Ships are run by humans with human failings and frailties and errors.”
“It’s still our best shot, and I don’t have either the time or inclination to argue with you, Commander.”
She disconnected and Kendra stared at the comm panel in disbelief for a moment.
“I’m gonna have a little chat with her,” she
said. Then she turned her attention to Cass. “Okay, explain.”
“It’s more of a feeling than logic,” Cass admitted. “Yes, all the numbers support Diana’s idea, but she’s logical, not intuitive. The crew on Endeavour saw the cleanup when the tractor on Martel went bad, and they’re going to remember that. There’s going to be hesitation, and it will translate into errors and miscalculations, a reluctance to fully commit.”
“I get what you’re saying, but don’t you think Kiri and Candice will override it?”
“As much as they can, certainly. But if some tech says everything’s ready when it’s just a hair off?”
“Right.” Kendra considered. “And I’ve learned not to publicly contradict my subordinates, so I can’t tell Whitmore to stuff it no matter how much I want to.”
“So what do we do now?”
“For now? Follow orders and hope.”
“THIS IS MORE LIKE IT!”
Gries stared at Stone. She sounded like she was enjoying this.
Things had gone well until they’d reached the fourth level. Somewhere along the way they’d tripped an unnoticed alarm, and local security was proving to be more competent than they’d prefer. They’d swarmed the small force, nearly stopping them before Stone had led a breakout.
They’d taken some casualties; Gries would have preferred to send them back to the LZ, but he had the feeling he was going to need every body which could carry a weapon. So they limped along, eased slightly by the reduced gravity, covered by the rest of the platoon. Fortunately the CeeSea skinsuits under their battle armor had prevented any deaths as yet. He also knew the good fortune couldn’t last.
When they finally dropped a level, sealing the hatch behind them in an effort to slow security’s progress, they immediately regretted it. Here, security had been able to call in reinforcements from the former MinSec agents. Nor did they have the advantage of surprise.
It didn’t seem to bother Stone, though Gries could see Director McAllister was thinking too much about what could go wrong.
“Plan, Chief?” he said, hoping she had one.
“Find out where their bloody chamber is, blast our way through to it, grab anyone smart enough not to resist, and get off this rock. I’ve spent far more time on Luna than I ever planned. Taylor! Mac!”
The diminutive IT specialist hurried up, looking oddly comfortable with the pulse rifle in her hands, followed by the former Minister.
“Chief?” Taylor said a fraction ahead of Mac.
“Where do we go?”
“Two routes.” He winced as a piece of bulkhead ricocheted past. “Shortest route is up this corridor a couple hundred meters.”
“Short is good, but I don’t like the way those boys are dug in.”
“We can also go back to the last junction and head left. There’s a smaller passage which will get us to the other side.”
“Sounds like a better option. Mac, get into their system and shut down any cameras they have on the route Taylor’s going to show you. I want them blind and stupid. Leftenant,” she called to Gries.
He trotted over.
“We’re going to move. I want your best squad with us because we’re going to move fast.”
“Only a squad?”
She nodded. “The rest are staying with you to hold this position, along with all the heavy weapons.”
“We can do it.”
“And if you can’t hold the position, I want you to fall back and evacuate.”
Gries’ face hardened. “No, Chief. Our mission is to penetrate the Complex, capture the Empress and any other members of Artemis leadership, and extract with the prisoners and all personnel.”
“I know what our orders are, Leftenant, and I’m changing them. If you cannot hold, you will withdraw. You can argue with me when we’re both back on Njord. Besides, are you saying you and your Marines can’t hold the corridor?”
Gries was caught between professional pride and responsibility. On the one hand, he had his orders and from higher up than Stone. Honestly, he didn’t know exactly where Stone fit into his chain of command, if at all, but she certainly carried herself as someone who expected to be obeyed. On the other hand, telling a Marine she couldn’t do something was like dangling a bone in front of a dog.
Responsibility won.
“Aye aye, Ma’am,” he answered finally. A safe answer.
“Mac?”
“Working on it, the problem I’m having is their software isn’t even last generation, it’s something like nine or ten generations back and off on a weird tangent from the local techs doing their own improvisations over the years, but I’m almost done, I need maybe another minute.”
“Take your time and do it right.” Stone turned to Crozier and Taylor. “You listened?”
Both nodded.
“I need you armed. What are you comfortable with?”
Taylor looked sheepish. “The most I’ve fired is a flechette pistol. I think I should stick with it.” He patted the holster on his hip.
“Good enough; make sure you have extra mags. Nicole?”
Crozier flashed a surprisingly feral grin.
“Got an extra pulse rifle?”
“You can handle one?”
“I’ll match you on any range, any distance, any time.”
“I’ll take you up on it. Later.” She dug into the supplies the Marines had humped in and tossing a pulse rifle to Crozier. She caught it with an air of familiarity, proven when she expertly checked the charge and the magazine before sighting along the barrel.
“Nice balance.”
Five minutes later they were as ready as they were going to get.
“Move out, people.” Sergeant Monaco had been chosen to lead the squad, and she was covering the rear, while Corporal Crampton took point. Stone and Mac echoed their positions around Crozier and Taylor, and ten people slipped down the corridor and disappeared.
Gries turned to his Marines and opened the comm function on his implant.
I don’t care what the Chief said. Nobody gets through here, and nobody’s leaving. Here we hold.
CHAPTER SIX
Tycho Under; Cislunar Space; Artemis City
Stardate 12009.14
“Autumn!”
“Go ‘way.”
“Autumn!”
“Go ‘way, Shar’n. ‘m sleepy.”
“Autumn, you have to wake up!”
“Wait. Shar’n?”
“Good, yes, it’s Sharon.”
“You’re dead.”
“Right.”
“Kay.”
“No, not okay! Not unless you want to end up like me!”
Autumn’s eyes opened. She was, where was she? She ought to know where she was, shouldn’t she?
“Where ‘m I?”
Your headquarters.
“This’s weird.”
You’re dying, Autumn. Dying’s weird as it gets.
“Oh.” Her eyes started to shut again.
No! Autumn, you need help.
“No, jus’ need t’sleep. Feel better,” she slurred.
If you fall asleep again, you won’t wake up! You need help!
“Who? You’re dead, Nour’s dead, Caitlin’s dead. You’re all dead. Hey!” A bit of animation returned to her voice. “You’re dead, I remember you’re dead.”
Uh-huh. You don’t have much time.
“This’s ‘portant. If you’re dead, why do I hear you?”
Got me. Autumn, who can help you?
“You can’t. You’re dead.” Now Autumn’s voice filled with sorrow for her lost friend.
I’m doing my best! Think, Autumn! Who can help you?
“Not you. Not Nour. Not Caitlin. She killed you!”
I know. I was there.
“She killed you!”
Let’s move on. It’s not something I want to remember.
“Kay. But she killed you!”
Yes. Who can help you, Autumn?
“Dunno. Mikki’s gone. Jordan, too.
Mac. Nicole. All on a mission. Izzat important?”
Implants, Autumn.
“Yeah. Got mine. You didn’t get yours. You died too soon.”
Let’s get off my death. You have an implant.
“Tol’ you.”
If it were possible for a spectral voice to sigh, Sharon’s would have. As it was when she spoke next there was a definite edge of exasperation.
Use your implant to contact someone.
“They’re not here, they’re away, far away.”
The implant has the range.
“Oh, yeah. How do I do this again?”
For bog’s sake! Think!
“I gotta think,” Autumn echoed. “Why’s it hard to think?”
You’re dying. We covered this.
“Yeah. Dying. Not like I thought it would be. Kinda nice. Peaceful.”
You’re not done working yet, Autumn.
“But I’m tired!”
Think, Autumn! How do you send a message?
“Tha’s easy, I just think it.”
Then why don’t you do that?
“Who?”
Anyone!
Autumn’s eyes closed and she could see Sharon again.
“Hi Sharon!”
“No time for this now! Send a message, Autumn!”
Hey, Mac!
“Mac? Why her?”
“She’s the nicest.”
Hi Autumn, hey, I’d love to chat but we’re kinda in the middle of a mission, you know, and so if you don’t mind I’m gonna go back to it and we’ll catch up later, bye!
“She said she’s busy,” pouted Autumn.
“And you’re dying,” Sharon retorted. “I think that trumps busy. Message again, and tell her you’re dying.”
“You sure?”
“It’ll get her attention.”
Mac, I’m dying, Sharon says so.
Implants stripped all the emotional content from messages but the shock was clear in Mac’s response.
Dying, what do you mean dying, and Sharon can’t tell you anything!
She did, I swear! She says I’m dying. I just feel sleepy.
Hold on Autumn, I’ll see what I can do to get you some help, just don’t die, okay, promise me you won’t die.