by Daniel Gibbs
Cera's news was worse. "Captain, I'm gettin' a fault from th' jump drive. No jump possible!" After a moment, she added, "Fusion drives have lost fifteen percent power! We're losin' thrust!"
In the kind of battle they were in, thrust was life. It was their only margin of superiority over warships capable of wrecking the Shadow Wolf with ease. The margin was disappearing rapidly.
To make matters worse, the Hunter missiles disappeared from the holotank, one after the other. Their drives shut down, out of fuel. They could do nothing but coast along through space until internal timers self-detonated their warheads to prevent hostile recovery. The third destroyer that had so desperately evaded them came back around and returned its full attention to the Shadow Wolf.
"Wormholes!" Piper cried, even as the ship shook around them, another hit slicing away hull material and exposing part of the lower deck to space. "We've got ships jumping in!"
Henry dared his luck with the thought, Things can't get any worse. They might be friendly.
"Captain…" Piper's voice made it clear it wasn't good news. "It's the Tash'vakal."
27
Seated on the command platform of the Vanarak, Chief Lamat of the Mek'taman was in a mood. Her Ship-Lords were still sore over their failed effort on behalf of the League operative, seeing the escape of the human ship as an insult to the Clan's honor. Jastavi was particularly truculent as the Pahknabi remained hobbled by her battle damage from the encounter. His ship's wounds from such a small, insignificant vessel was a disgrace that guaranteed an end to his efforts to become her successor. The fact that he’d been the loudest voice in favor of the attack made his rage all the more palpable. The criticism from his rivals on the same count fueled it even more.
The damage to the Pahknabi also forced the Clan to travel together until such a time as the ship's repairs were complete. This complicated their logistics, as they could no longer range wider to find more prey or acquire other resources. They had to move as a unit, tied to the slowest ship and the needs of all. So if just one ship needed a refueling, all did.
Hence their jump to the system human charts designated TR-209. The abandoned helium-3 mining station was a popular source of the fuel for them, given humans never saw reason to jump into the system. It would also be a nice, empty system to finish the Pahknabi's repairs.
So it wasn't a surprise that the presence of four human ships, and the ruins of one or two more, cut deeply in her foul mood. That her sensor chief noticed that one of those ships was the accursed human who'd escaped them rubbed raw the injury.
Soon the other ships were calling. "My Chief, what shall we do about the interlopers?" asked one voice.
"The human who struck at my ship is here!" Jastavi's voice wailed in rage over the line. "Let us pounce upon him! I demand honor-rite to his meat!"
Lamat considered that. Jastavi was within his rights to demand such, and it would ease his disgrace. It was one of the reasons she shouldn't, in fact, given the restoration of some honor might kindle his ambitions anew.
On the other hand, it would be wrong, a violation of her responsibilities, to deny a rightful honor-rite to one of her Ship-Lords.
"For the moment, Ship-Lord Jastavi, your vessel should see to its needs. Ship-Lords Ravatan and Sravati will see to your defense. All others, attend to me! This is our system, our refueling place, and all within it belongs to us! Take them all! Victory for the Clan!"
"Victory for the Clan!" the other Ship-Lords roared over their tactical-link.
Pieter Hartzog had a lot of problems on his mind. Two of them were the most critical: the weakening fusion core and the Lawrence drive being inoperable. Both were repairs that would take time and needed careful repair, which ruled out Brigitte.
Which was why he was so pleased to have Samina still available.
After double-checking the seals on his hardsuit, he turned to her. "Get to the fusion drive and see what you can do," he insisted. "'I'll deal with the jump drive!"
Samina nodded. She was pale and afraid, but she was showing a vital trait for being a spacer engineer: the ability to think and work through fear. She finished getting into her hardsuit and headed for the lower deck exit from the engineering section.
"Monitor the other systems," he said to Brigitte. "I've shown you how the tolerances on the fusion cores work. Keep them together."
"Will do, Pete.”
The hardsuits were bulkier and more awkward than softsuits, but they had advantages. Greater resilience against radiation was one. The other was that they helped cushion from high-Gs, were in fact built to assist in movement in high-G conditions. Even though it felt bulky and ungraceful on him, the hardsuit allowed its wearer to walk against the G forces that wanted to throw him into the stern of the ship.
With careful steps, he approached the jump drive and began a check of all of its components. The self-diagnostic systems tied into the HUD of his suit displayed the results.
It was repairable, but it would take time. Given the way the ship was shaking, Pieter wasn't sure he had it.
The holotank showed the bad news in its entirety. Sixteen vessels were now in-system. Three stood off—understandable, considering one was the ship the Shadow Wolf's neutron cannon had done a number to nearly three weeks ago—and thirteen now burned hard for the Shadow Wolf.
This is hopeless. Henry couldn't keep the thought from coming to mind. Three destroyers were already a fight he'd lose unless they could jump—which they couldn't—and now there was a fleet, undoubtedly here for his hide.
The color drained from the faces of Tia and Piper, and it wasn't just from the G-forces that were still pressing on them while Cera tried desperately to evade the incoming fire. "We're dead," Tia said in a low, despairing voice.
"They really want us dead that much?" Piper asked rhetorically. "They brought in the Tash'vakal too?"
A thought cut through Henry's hopeless fear. The thoughtful part of his mind forced his attention to that idea. What were the Tash'vakal doing here? Had the League called them in? The more he thought about it, the more he knew it didn't make sense. The League didn't want any witnesses to this. Witnesses could undermine their plan.
One thought quickly led to another. TR-209 had an old abandoned helium-3 extraction and refueling facility. One with some good work and care, could easily be re-configured for use by space-based nomads like the Tash'vakal.
Henry made an educated guess: The Tash'vakal weren't here working for the League. They were here to refuel. Given how territorial they could be over "clan" holdings, they'd be no happier at the League than they were at him.
"Tia, raise the lead Tash'vakal ship, now."
"What good will that do?"
"I don't know, but I’ve got to try something."
Tia sent the signal. Moments later, an answer came. "Putting them on."
Henry directed his attention to the display-surface of the bridge. The black-eyed reptilian leader of the Tash'vakal clan appeared. "Human Captain, we meet again," she said, her voice a contemptuous hiss. "You have insulted our space, and for that, I will have your bones."
Henry forced his voice into a deferential tone. "My deepest apologies, Chief Lamat. I was unaware this system was held by your Clan. I only came to deal with the League of Sol's ships here."
The Tash'vakal's eyes turned calculating. "You are saying they did not pursue you here? You pursued them? You, in that pathetic ship, pursued the Outsiders?"
"We acquired advanced missiles from a source with links to the Terran Coalition," Henry explained. The ship shuddered around them again. Tia didn't bother telling him their status and, given the situation, he didn't ask. "But we used them all to defeat their cruiser. You may find some of the debris from it still in-system. It came apart inside a wormhole."
Lamat still looked skeptical, yet kept that same look of calculation. She glanced off-screen for a moment, undoubtedly to a subordinate who was verifying his statement. Henry doubted their sensors would fail to find the pie
ces from the dead Rand, not to mention the disabled Lancer, and some of the telltale particle traces from the collapsed wormhole. "So, the League invaded our system first."
"Yes."
Lamat didn't ask why, and Henry didn't expect it. Truth was she didn't care. "What is it you want, human? You have still violated our territory and will pay for that."
"Accidentally, it was never my intention to demean or provoke the Clan Mek'taman, Chief," Henry assured her. "We've been given ample proof of your Clan's abilities as spacers, and your abilities in a fight. I care for my crew too much to risk your wrath."
"You seek to flatter us."
"No, I'm telling the simple truth. Your people nearly got us. And since you're talking about paying prices…" Henry swallowed. "I'll pay a toll to you. I have some funds. And the location of a wrecked League space station you might find some metal salvage from."
Lamat seemed to consider the matter. "We have no use for your electronic or paper money. Salvage is better."
"Then I'll give you the location. All I ask is that you let us withdraw as soon as we can jump."
The ship shook again, violently, and Henry thought he could hear the scream of metal tearing. It was a sharp reminder that their acceleration was going to kill them, should the ship be damaged enough. But right now, he couldn't deal with it. He had to wait for Lamat's answer.
"You will give us the location," she said. "In the space of thirty standard cycles, you will deliver to my Clan the tonnage of your ship in hull-grade alloys and human meats. Swear to do these things, and I will allow you to withdraw, human."
Henry swallowed. The tonnage of the Shadow Wolf in hull alloys was going to wipe them out. As for human meats… "You're not suggesting I give you people to eat, are you?"
"I am well aware of your taboos on eating the flesh of intelligent life, human. I refer to the meats your people ingest. We are particularly interested in your 'bakhon'."
"Ah. Alright." Knowing he had little choice, Henry nodded. "I'll arrange the delivery wherever you wish. And we're sending the coordinates to that station now." He nodded to Tia. She was busy staring at the orange and red indicators for the Shadow Wolf's failing shields, but after a moment, she started tapping her board, calling up astrogation data, and sending it on through a sub-channel.
"We will be at the Torpan Transfer Station in thirty cycles," she informed him. "Be there with the tribute, or we will make a feast of you and all aboard your pathetic ship."
"Of course."
Lamat said nothing further. She disappeared from the viewer.
"If we survive the League ships, you just bankrupted us, I think," Piper said.
"Yeah," Henry replied. "But we'll figure something out." We'll have to. That’s a job for tomorrow. Any further thought was precluded by another severe rocking of the ship. This time, there was a loud roar of atmosphere nearby, followed shortly by the thunk of an emergency bulkhead sliding into place.
"Major breach, Section B," Tia said.
"One of the plasma cannons isn't responding," Piper added.
"There's just too much fire!" Cera protested. "I can't dodge it all!"
"Cera, break toward the limit," Henry said. "Get us out from between the Tash'vakal and the League."
Tia sounded skeptical when she asked, "You think she's going to let us go?"
"I have to plan that she will; otherwise, we're up the creek without a paddle," was Henry's reply. He keyed the intercom. "Someone tell me the fusion drive's going to be back to full power soon."
Henry's request came through shortly after Samina made it to the afflicted hardware. She had to kneel to get at the manifold. It was essentially an electromagnetic field generator, necessary for directing the flow of plasma from the reactor housing to the engines. She could see the problem the moment he opened it. Shock damage had thrown a field projector out of place, distorting the field.
For the umpteenth time, Samina reminded herself she'd chosen to come along, heedless of the danger. It did little to settle the twisting fear in her belly and heart.
Under normal conditions, the repair was best done after the core was shut down. Doing the repair while plasma was still going through the system was virtually impossible, since she couldn't get into the guts of the device without shutting it off entirely. But given their situation, that wasn't an option. They needed the extra thrust.
Samina was left with few alternatives, but one came to mind as she recalled Chief Khánh once showing the workings to an engineering crew. Her suited hands went over to the other field projectors. Slowly, carefully, she adjusted their settings. It required everything she knew of plasma fluid dynamics and electromagnetic field operation to tweak things, and she had to do it fast. The vessel vibrated as another shot blew through their weakened deflectors and opened the ship's interior to the void. Failed shields meant they were one unlucky hit away from being dead in space or plain old dead period.
She tapped away at the interior controls of the manifold, altering each projector in sequence. When it was done, she breathed a small prayer and tapped in the initialization sequence. The field within started shifting, changing its shape and intensity until it accounted for the dislocated projector.
Plasma again flowed freely through the system. She keyed the intercom built into the suit. "Bridge, full power to fusion drive!"
"Will do!" Cera shouted back.
Samina keyed her suit radio to Pieter's. "Do you want me to stay here or come back?"
"Stay, just in case," he replied. "And pray."
It was good advice.
In the engineering section, Pieter focused his efforts on the jump drive, trying to ignore the G-forces pressing against him. They were growing again, and now his entire body ached, especially the parts he'd braced to the drive to keep the acceleration of the ship from pushing him away. His magboots were set to maximum to reinforce his bracing, but that did little to lessen the discomfort.
Soon he found the problem. Damage from the hit to the stern knocked one of the internal components, the particle focusing frame, out of alignment. The drive couldn't physically generate the particle stream that tore open space-time and created wormholes, not until he fixed it.
This was not as easy as it seemed. The G-forces complicated matters, and the bolts holding the frame in place were tight. He'd have to bring it out and put it back in, a timely repair. Doing so under fire and G-forces? God help me, this is going to be difficult.
One by one, he loosened the bolts. As he worked, the ship rocked hard around him once more. The hit had been close. Too close. Fear threatened to grip his heart, but Pieter forced it down. Don't think about it. You can't fix it. You can fix this. Remember what Uncle Maarten said. "Fix what you can and leave the rest to God."
The final bolt dropped in his hand. Next came the positional locks, which gave way quickly from a flick of his thumb on each. He gripped the frame with both hands of his hardsuit and pulled. The frame didn't budge. It was wedged in. He gritted his teeth and pulled again to little avail. He started to groan as he put everything he could into it.
For Henry and the others, there was good news and bad news.
The bad news was that the League destroyers were dead set on killing them, and their volume of fire wasn't slackening in the least—it was steadily blowing holes in his ship.
The good news was that the Tash'vakal were finally entering range, and that would give the League something else to worry about.
A couple of their ships started the assault with a missile salvo. Soon their particle lances and other weapons fired on the League destroyers, immensely complicating their efforts to kill the Shadow Wolf. Cera’s maneuvering evened out as the incoming fire slackened.
One of the destroyers was still mostly free of Tash'vakal attack, however, and it continued to pursue them.
"We're still at least five minutes' burn from the limit," Cera said, "an' still no jumps. What're your orders, Captain?"
Before he could answer, Piper spoke
up. "I'll add that we're almost out of rounds on all auto-turrets, plasma cannons are low on karnon, and even the quads are burning out."
Henry considered it all and stared at the holotank again. Two of the destroyers focused on the Tash'vakal. Their fire against the Shadow Wolf slackened as a result. The third destroyer, the one that had evaded their last Hunters, was another story. It still pursued them doggedly.
A thought crossed his mind. The Hunters!
"Cera, make our bearing zero five nine mark positive thirty-six. Follow that course as closely as you can."
Cera obeyed. She didn't point out that it would take longer to reach the limit at that heading, but Henry didn't expect her to. She’d know he was up to something, and that was always good enough for her.
The change in their course prompted a similar course change from the League destroyer. Its officers tried to keep their main weapons on-arc with the Shadow Wolf, which was, of course, precisely what Henry expected and indeed wanted.
Tia glanced back at him. "Why the course change?" she asked, hiding her worry over their deflectors now being red on every arc. Another plasma beam sizzled through space at them and barely missed. Missiles still arced in, tracking them relentlessly.
"You'll see."
"Looks like they're coming on course to block us off from our approach to the limit," said Piper. "They must be afraid we're going to get away."
"They are." Henry didn't dare grin, not yet. He still wasn't sure his math was right, rushed as it was. He didn't have anything but a gut instinct this would turn out as he hoped. He watched the League's ship course intersect theirs, putting itself between them and their apparent objective, its weapons fire steady, as it tried to deliver killing blow. The range closed, closed more than he felt comfortable seeing, and he started to wonder if he was wrong.