“He doesn’t give up on a target. I’ll give him that much.”
“They’re trying to hail us,” Wu added. “Want to talk to them, or should I say that you’re out?”
“No, I might as well hear what they’ve got to say,” she said. “Throw it onto my console.” She looked down, seeing the angry face of Captain Petrov staring back at her, the glaring red light behind him indicating that Ajax was at battle stations. “Well, Captain, we seem to be going in the same direction in an awful hurry. And there I was afraid you didn’t like me.”
“Cut your engines right now, or I’ll do it for you,” he threatened.
Raising an eyebrow, she replied, “Let me get this straight. I am almost killed, not once, but twice, both times in circumstances where your glorious Patrol should be protecting me, and somehow I’m the one you decide to target? I think you need to seriously consider a reassessment of your priorities, Captain, because from where I’m sitting, they seem rather screwed up.”
“Colchis Security wants to question you over the deaths of two people, as well as numerous traffic citations that prohibit your continued operation of a starship. I repeat, you will cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. You may consider yourself under arrest.”
“Ajax, I have no intention of complying with your request. Do you really plan on shooting this ship down? Because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me leaving this system.”
“Don’t push me, Carter. You’ve got two other people on that ship. Are you going to put their lives in jeopardy to protect your own skin? If you haven’t committed a crime, then you have nothing to worry about.”
“Seems to me I’ve heard those words before, and it never seems to end well.” Glancing at the trajectory plot, she said, “This is on you, Petrov. All of this is on you. My ship is unarmed. Yours is not. If anyone dies here today, your finger will be the one on the trigger. Pandora out.”
“We have escape velocity,” Wu reported. “Increasing engine output.” Shaking her head, she added, “We’re really putting the new systems through their paces. I just hope we don’t have a burnout.”
“If we do, we’re dead,” Carter replied. Glancing at the others, she said, “Not too late for you to bail out. Someone will pick you up. I’m committed to this. You aren’t.”
“Like hell,” Wu said. “I’ve got a dozen experimental weapons stowed in the cargo bay, and there’s no way I’m going to pass up a chance to see what they do in action.”
Garcia smiled, and added, “I tossed away my career for this ride. I’m staying.”
Nodding, Carter turned back to the helm, checking the power distribution network, trying to keep the flow of energy smoothly running to the engines. One imbalance, one error, and they’d spiral out of control, easy prey for Ajax. She looked at the cruiser closing on them, weapons armed and ready, barely able to believe that Petrov would actually open fire on an unarmed civilian ship.
And yet, somehow, she did believe it.
“I can’t give you any more speed,” Wu said, anticipating her next question.
“Ajax is still closing,” Garcia added. “Petrov’s really pushing hard. I think you really got under his skin.” A smile on his face, he continued, “I know the people manning those weapons systems. This is a bluff. If it comes to it, they won’t shoot.”
“You hope,” Wu replied. “Engaging countermeasures, firing up evasive thrusters.”
Seven minutes to flee the system. Colchis fell away behind them, visibly growing smaller as Carter continued the savage acceleration, struggling for breath as the force of the engines raged, burning ever hotter, warning lights snapping into life one after another as the systems protested the unaccustomed load she was imposing on them. Any yet she had no choice, not if they were to get away before Ajax could catch them. She kept her hands locked on the controls, her eyes on the trajectory plot, watching as the two tracks slowly converged.
Space warfare was all about the planning. All about what you did before you even lifted from the surface. Like no other style of warfare, it was a matter of statistics. The fastest, toughest ship won the day, as long as its crew didn’t make any mistakes. And no spaceman would ever make such mistakes. Not and remain on duty for any length of time. If his commander didn’t relieve him, the cold, harsh laws of the universe would do the job for him. One more tumbling, frozen figure, drifting through space forever.
Two minutes left. The two ships were committed to their course now. Ajax would have its chance to open fire just as they engaged the T-Drive, beginning their journey through the void. Pandora was settling down under the increased load, the warning alerts now merely part of the background noise. She reached for the drive controls, priming the engines, readying for the transition. The slightest mistake, the slightest miscalculation, and they’d be torn to pieces.
“Forty seconds,” Wu said, breaking her out of her reverie. “Firing in thirty-eight.”
“They won’t shoot,” Garcia replied, confidently.
“Then they’re wasting a hell of lot of energy, because I’m reading a spike in their forward guns.”
“Brace for transition,” Carter warned, entering the final code sequence into the navigational computer. She looked across at Garcia, and the two of them placed their hands on the activation keys, turning them as one, locking the other-dimensional course into place. They were committed, in the hands of the computers, and there was no longer anything they could do to influence their fate.
“Here we go,” she replied, the lights dimming, a countdown appearing on the screen.
“Signal from Ajax,” Wu reported. “Two words. Last chance.”
“Ignore him,” she said. “Five seconds. Four. Three. Two.”
“Energy spike, weapons firing!” Wu yelled. “Near miss, fifty meters distant.”
“Too late,” Carter replied. “Transition!” The ship shuddered, the tachyonic drive bursting into life and propelling them far beyond the speed of light, the stars fading away on the viewscreen as the ship began its voyage through unreality, bound for its far-distant destination. “Damage report.”
“Everything looks nominal,” Wu said, throwing off her restraints. “I’m going down to check the power relays. I didn’t like that last-second flicker.” She turned to the door, then froze, saying, “I think I found out where we got that extra mass from.” Carter followed her into the crew room and saw a prone figure on the floor, blood staining the carpet when he had fallen.
“Schmitt?” she said. “How…”
“He came with some equipment before launch,” Garcia replied. “I thought he’d got off with the technicians, but I guess he must have left it a little too late. He probably fell and cracked his head during our first acceleration.” Frowning, he looked at Carter, and said, “Give me a hand. Transition checks can wait a moment. We’d better find out how good those medical kits are.”
“I don’t think it’s too serious,” Wu said, looking at him.
“You’re wrong,” Carter replied. “We’ve just kidnapped a serving officer of the Patrol. I’d call that serious.” With a sigh, she said, “You see to him. I’ll check the ship. Let’s just hope nothing else goes wrong.”
Chapter 11
Carter looked at the images on the screen, watching as a long-dead botanist walked through the jungles of Karadana, talking of the wonders of the wilderness. She focused on the dangers, the acid-based attacks of the local plant life, ravenous near-spiders with razor claws that could tear through skin and bone with equal ease, and marveled that any colony had even been attempted on the planet. No surprise that it had failed in short order, and that nobody had visited the world in decades.
It was a habitable planet, just about. The air breathable, the water drinkable, though most of the food was totally inedible. There would have been a time when a major expedition might have been sent, no expense spared in creating a new world for humanity, even if it required burning down to the bedrock and building a new ecosystem on the
ruins. Something like that had happened at Epsilon Eridani, and again at Groombridge 34, both worlds that now boasted populations in the millions, the indigenous life reduced to ever-smaller reservations.
Today, things were different. The Senate was ever-more reluctant to spend money on the outer worlds, on settlements that might require support for centuries before becoming self-sufficient. The Development Companies were meant to fill the gap, vast sectors of space sold at auction to anyone with the interest and money to build them. Some had been successes. Far more had been failures. And right now, Olympus was in the latter category.
She froze the image, then looked up at the clock. They’d be reaching the planet in twelve hours. She really ought to be getting some rest. They’d be moving quickly as soon as they arrived, and she still had to work out just where to go next. All the data she’d been given added up to far too many possibilities, dozens of potential targets scattered across a hundred light-years of space. It would be a gamble, and if she guessed wrong, people would die.
For the first time, she had a ghost of sympathy for Captain Petrov, but sitting back and waiting for a miracle wasn’t the answer, either. There was a solution buried in the mass of data, and she had to find it. She reached for her datapad, barely registering the knock on the door.
“Come in,” she belatedly said, reaching for a cold cup of coffee. Garcia walked into the room, holding a tray with a pair of foil-wrapped sandwiches on it.
“I thought you might want something to eat,” he said, placing it carefully on her desk. “You missed dinner. Not that it was anything to write home about.”
“How’s the good Doctor?” she asked.
“Sleeping comfortably,” he replied. “Nothing serious. He just managed to cut his head when he fell. No concussion. A collection of bumps and bruises that will probably hurt a bit, but he should be up and about before we land.” Shaking his head, he said, “I can’t believe I managed to…”
“There was a lot going on around takeoff time, and you couldn’t have thought that he’d fail to get off the ship in time. He had a chance to get away, and he managed to mess it up.” She frowned, then added, “I’d love to know how he managed it.”
“One of the racks in the cargo space was broken when I went down there,” he replied. “Maybe that had something to do with it. And we didn’t send out a ship-wide warning before takeoff.” With a shrug, he added, “Though I think we can be excused that much, given that we assumed everyone on the ship was sitting in the cockpit at the time.”
“As long as he makes a full recovery,” she said. “We’re going to need his help when we get to the surface.” She looked up at Garcia, took a sandwich, and asked, “Will he help us?”
Garcia paused, then said, “If any of us need medical care, he’ll more than do his part. Much more than that, I don’t know. We probably should find a way to put him off at a neutral port as soon as we can. There are a couple of good prospects within range, and we’d be able to stock up on supplies at the same time. Along those lines, we should think about looking at the colony.”
“I’d have thought it would have been picked clean, long ago.”
“Maybe, maybe not. We could do with some trade goods, anyway.” Looking at the screen, he added, “That documentary is long on sensationalism and short on facts. I downloaded as many of the reports as I could find, but I haven’t taken any biology since High School. None of it made much sense to me, and I can’t see anything obviously worth buying.”
“If there as anything on that planet worth much, someone would be harvesting it already. Even if it was just the occasional layover. Scarcity promotes profit.” She tapped on her datapad, and said, “That’s not what’s bothering me at the moment.”
“Space is pretty big, isn’t it,” Garcia replied.
“We can rule out a lot of targets. The pirates aren’t hitting government or megacorporate shipping. Not that there is very much of either, but they wouldn’t want to risk getting one of those ships in harm’s way, so most of the major systems are out. Thalassa has an old orbital defense network, and a squadron of fighters to back it up, so they’re out as well.” She looked at him, shrugged, and added, “I guess sometimes paranoia pays off.”
“Then a transit system, and that boils down to a few dozen possibilities, most of them of about equal weight given the reluctance of most of the small shipping companies to publish their flight paths.”
“It’s not so bad,” she replied. “A good two-thirds of the freight runs are for ODC. They’ve given me a copy of their manifest. It’s going to come down to a numbers game, I guess, but given a little time, I can probably narrow it down to a half-dozen options. Then we just hide out and wait.”
“And then what?” he asked. “Based on the data I recovered from your escape pod, Fortuna will seriously outgun this ship, even with the armament waiting for us on the surface of the planet. We’ll have an edge on speed, sure, but they’ll only need a couple of good shots to bring us down. Got any ideas on how to cope with that?”
“Not really,” she said. “I just know that we’ve got to do it. Hell, it might be enough just to damage them, slow them down, give the Patrol a chance to catch them. Once we’ve proven that they’re invulnerable, then we ca…”
“Shaped demolition charges,” Wu said, walking into the room. “I’ve got eight of them, sitting in the cargo hold right now. Put them in place, tap the button, and scratch one starship.” She made a gesture with her hands, an expanding ball, and added, “Works every time, and there’s nothing they can do to stop them. Not once I’ve hit the button.”
“How do we place them?” Garcia asked.
“I just do the ideas. I’ll leave implementation to you.” She turned to Carter, and said, “That crazy guy just woke up. Wants to see you.”
“Figures,” she replied. “Rusty, go through the data again, see if I’ve missed anything. We’ll all go through it again once we hit the surface. Cassie, see if you can make some easy storage space in the hold, push everything back a little. I don’t know what we’re going to find down there, but we might need some trade goods. Anything we can think of.”
“Feels a bit odd to be picking the bones of a corpse,” she said.
“I doubt the colonists will mind. Not after all this time. As long as you are only speaking figuratively, of course.” Carter smiled, walking down the corridor. Doctor Schmitt was sitting in the crew room, a glass of water in front of him, his head swathed in imperfectly-tied bandages. He looked up as she approached and gestured for her to take a seat.
“We’re committed to Karadana,” she began. “Once we’ve completed our mission there, we’ll arrange to drop you off somewhere. Given that I suspect Captain Petrov has made sure that we’re now wanted fugitives, it’ll probably be a smaller port, but we’ll make sure that you are clear of the ship before we do anything that might incriminate you. Though I would ask for your assistance while we’re down on the planet. It’s a pretty hostile environment.”
Folding his hands together, he asked, “Just what is my status on this ship?”
“That rather depends on you, Doc. Right now, you’re an uninvited guest, but if you think it’ll play better at home, I can downgrade you to prisoner and lock you in the emergency airlock. Your call.” She paused, then said, “I’m sorry that you got stuck on this ship during the takeoff, but if you’d moved a little more quickly, you’d have been safely back on Colchis right now.”
“The rail collapsed,” he said. He paused, then continued, “Not really relevant.”
“I guess we’re probably up on charges of kidnapping….”
Shaking his head, Schmitt said, “I doubt it very much. I’ve known Rusty since the Academy. There’s evidence that I left the ship with material for your mission, and I go missing right around your takeoff? Petrov will have charged me with desertion. If I go back, I face a court-martial, and…”
“We’ll all testify in your defense, and the camera footage will prove…”
Looking down at the table, he continued, “You don’t know Petrov. He’ll have his case very carefully framed by now, and there won’t be anything anyone can do to convince him otherwise. Once he gets an idea into his head, it stays there. My absence isn’t going to help, and with all due respect, I doubt the word of a collection of criminals is going to count for much.” Taking a swig of his drink, he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything stronger than this on board?”
“There wasn’t time to stock up properly.”
“Pity. Something to fix the next time we make planetfall.” Finishing his water, he looked up, and said, “There’s no point holding back. Not now. I’ll be honest. I came to see if I could talk Rusty out of this, and he shot me down cold. Petrov won’t believe that. I wouldn’t, in his place. Which means that for better or for worse, I might as well be considered as a member of the crew. It’s not as though you can’t use the help, I guess.” Looking around, he said, “I’m a half-decent sensor technician, and I’m a damn good doctor.”
“I know that much from personal experience,” she replied. “Doc, there’s probably another answer. If we all provide recorded testimony, enclose the logs, hell, I’ll pretend that I did kidnap you if you want, but…”
“What’s your plan, long-term?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Kill the pirates, right, I get that, but have you given any thought to what comes next?” Without letting her finish, he continued, “By taking off when you did, you committed quite a few crimes, and I’m sure that Petrov didn’t let you go quietly, either.”
“That’s an understatement. He took a shot at us on our way out.”
His eyes widened, and he replied, “Good God, I didn’t think he’d ever go that far.”
Fortunes of War (Stellar Main Book 1) Page 9