A Sword Into Darkness (36 page)

Dave Edwards, strapped into the Chief of the Boat’s seat to his left, patted Nathan’s arm and said, gently, “You know, Skipper, if you two are having a moment, we can put this whole first contact bullshit on hold.  After a year and a half of waiting, I’m sure the crew won’t begrudge you a quickie with your main squeeze.”

Nathan turned to him with an expression gone from serene to baleful.  “COB … .” he said menacingly.

To his right, Christopher Wright spoke up, his tone as professional and serious as ever.  “Captain, we’re at two light-seconds from the objective, zero thrust, and bow on.  Estimate a 015 by minus 20 relative target angle to the formation and opening.  No reaction by the aliens, sir.  Ready for your orders, Captain.”

“Thank you, XO.”  Nathan turned back to the main panoramic screen forward of them.  He touched the trackball control mounted to his armrest and scrolled around the image, highlighting and magnifying target tracks as he continued to speak.  “All right, this is it.  We are currently about ten times further out than the
Promise
s were when they were programmed to initiate comms.  We know that the first probe was safe up to this point, because she wasn’t taken out until she was almost on top of them.  As for
Promise II
, it’s a wash.  We don’t know if she either never made it this close, or if she made it closer but got smashed before she could reconfigure herself for communication.  Either way, we haven’t been schwacked yet, so this is probably a safe range for the moment.  This is our last chance to alter plans if we need to.  After this, we’re committed.”

Nathan had highlighted and set off into inset windows of their own each of the visible ships that made up the Deltan convoy:  the Control Ship, the Polyp, and the Cathedral.  The Junkyard, in its quasi-Lagrange position on the far side of the Control Ship, was occluded by the drive-star, but the slow orbit of each of the vessels around the axis of thrust would soon bring it into view and obscure the Polyp in turn.

Nathan looked at the crew seated and floating around him.  Along with Dave Edwards and Christopher Wright representing his command staff, and Kris here for Engineering, he also had Mike Simmons from Operations Department and Ivy Cho from Weapons Department, his other department heads.  Also seated were four “enlisted” watchstanders at their Bridge stations for Helm/Maneuvering, Ops/Communications, Weps/Sensors, and Aux Engineering, but they kept their eyes on their duties and did not interject themselves into his powwow with the senior officers.

The Executive Officer held up a hand.  “I don’t see any gains made in changing things at this point.  I just want to reiterate that we have only one chance at doing this peacefully.  Once we shoot or shoot back, we’ll have set the course for the whole planet, so I want to again urge caution and patience.  What happened to the probes might have been either hostile or inexplicably benign.  We cannot be sure how an alien intelligence would view our physical visitations to them or their reactions to that visitation until we understand their culture.  Even if the Deltans take action that could be construed as hostile, I’d prefer to hold off counterfire until it becomes our last possible option.  Maneuver defensively, continue attempts at communication, and hope that we can get through to them before they leave us with no other choice.”

Edwards shook his head.  “I will never be able to get you straight in my head, sir.  Gruff Army guy one moment, and pacifist diplomat the next.”

Wright smiled tightly.  “Your experience in the Navy ranks might be different, but I’ve found that many of the best soldiers and the bloodiest warriors I ever worked with were, at heart, the truest of make-peace pacifists … something about preferring to argue over a conference table rather than over the sights of a gun, at least while the conference table is still an option.”

The Master Chief considered it and nodded finally.  “I suppose so, and it’s not a bad attitude to have, especially for the guy leading our negotiations.”  Edwards turned to look at Nathan.  “Still, my druthers would be to set off a warhead or six in their path and let them start the talking.  We’ve tried to observe the niceties twice already, and all it’s gotten us is two dead chunks of hardware.”

Nathan shook his head.  “We’ve been over that, COB.  All our simulations indicate that showing off our weapons tech before we use it decisively gave us zero advantage, and like the XO said, it pretty much closes off the diplomatic option.  I’m hoping we can still chalk up the probes to a big misunderstanding.”

Edwards shrugged.  “Hey, you asked.  And, besides, you have to allow for the fact that those sims were all made in a vacuum—literally and figuratively.  Just like we don’t know their motivations in torching our probes, we don’t know for sure that a show of force would give them an undue tactical advantage.”

Wright leaned back to look at the Master Chief past Nathan’s head.  “That’s true, COB, but it’s also an unnecessary violation of operational security.  Right now, they don’t know that we’re even armed.  Why release that info and let them see the exact nature of that armament unless we’re positive it will give us an advantage?  Those simulations may have been done in a ‘vacuum’, but they weren’t done with a lack of common sense.”

Edwards held up his hands.  “I’m not arguing with either of you gents’ logic, I’m just a little more sure about our visitors’ disposition than you or the CO are willing to be.  It’s part of my job description:  keep the sailors—spacers, whatever—under control and advocate the hell out of the devil, so you at least have one voice of dissent when the pair of you get to agreeing too much.”

Wright grunted.  “I appreciate your fervor in that role, Master Chief, but sometimes you enjoy being the contrarian a bit too much.”

“Hey, just because I’m contrary, doesn’t mean I’m not also right.  Provable hypothesis or not, I’d be approaching this official first contact a bit more aggressively, and I think that position’s more than justified.”

“Which is why I’m in the lead for this, and not you!”

“All right!” Nathan snapped.  “Enough.  Points are made, and while I have a depressing certainty that we’ll be unloading our ammo out the barrels versus the magazine trunks, we’re going to stick with the diplomatic plan.  No changes.”  He broke out a crooked smile and looked around at his department heads.  “Unless you three have anything else to add to the XO’s or Chief’s deliberations, that is?”

Ivy Cho, Mike Simmons, and Kris all looked at one another, panicked, and only too quick to shake their heads.  Kris, who was constitutionally incapable of remaining quiet, said, “Screw that!  It’d be like putting our feet into a bear trap on purpose.  I don’t know, but you guys seem a little touchy for some reason today.  I wonder why … .”

They each tried to hide their relieved smirks, except for Nathan, who smiled at her warmly.  “Okay, that’s it.  No sense putting this off any more.  XO, set General Quarters, Bravo Stations for contact.  Let’s do this.”

Wright turned to his chair’s panel and made the necessary selections.  The stern, unidentified feminine voice of the ship sounded from every speaker aboard.  “General Quarters, General Quarters.  Now set General Quarters, Bravo Stations.  The ship may engage in high g maneuvers or lose pressure without warning.  All personnel will don vacuum protection and move in an orderly fashion to their General Quarters stations.  All personnel will secure for maneuvers and minimize internal transit unless specifically authorized by the Commanding Officer.”

The already suited crew on the bridge looked around at one another and put their helmets on.  Sealing rings clicked in rapid succession, and then the three department heads, whose GQ stations were off the bridge, went around to each of the seated, strapped in crew, performing seal checks, verifying internal air reserves, and ensuring they were all hooked properly into ship’s air.

Kris checked Nathan last.  When she finished, she squeezed his shoulder and touched her faceplate to his, so her voice would conduct through the helmets.  “I love you, babe.”

He smiled and reached up to squeeze her arm in return.  “I love you too, Kris, but you probably should have turned off your helmet’s amp if you wanted that to be private.”

She turned red inside her helmet and whirled around when Edwards gave her a familiar slap on the side.  He grinned and said, “Honestly, you two kids are just the sweetest things.”

Nathan shook his head, and he and Kris released one another.  She left the bridge, headed down and aft through the long radiator shaft to the reactor and Engineering Central Control.  Ivy and Mike followed suit—she headed forward and up to the Weapons Coordination Center, and he left for the relatively close Combat Information Center, where they would individually oversee the orders commanded from the bridge.

“XO, report when all stations are manned and ready,” Nathan ordered gently.

“Aye, aye, sir.”  Though originally from the Army, the Navy lingo was second-nature to him at this point.

Edwards made some selections on his panel.  “XO, Bridge is manned and ready!”

“Very well.”

Around the ship, each of the various stations reported in.  Including Nathan, Edwards, Wright, and their four watchstanders on the bridge covering the Helm, Ops/Comms, Weps/Sensors, and Aux Engineering, there were twenty-two more crew aboard the
USS Sword of Liberty
in a number of different individual monitoring, control, and coordination posts.  From the forward most portion of the ship, there was Navigation Path Clearance and the ship’s Railgun Control.  Then came the Port and Starboard Missile Module Monitoring stations, Laser Monitoring and Control, and the Dorsal and Ventral Radar Rooms, all of which reported to LT Cho in the Weapons Coordination Center.

In the after half of the mission hull, Operations Department held sway, led by LT Simmons in the Combat Information Center.  Reporting to him were the individual combat controllers in CIC who would make use of the weapon systems Ivy Cho’s people readied and maintained, should that prove necessary.  Outside of CIC, there was the Communication Systems and Signal Exploitation Space—known as Radio to one and all in a nod to the traditional Navy—as well as the Hangar, Flight Ops, and Network Server Control.

Kris, stuck way back in Engineering Central Control between the Reactor Room and Main Propulsion, owned five spaces up forward—the four Aux Propulsion Rooms beneath each RCS pylon, and Damage Control Central which was the aft-most space in the mission hull.  She also owned the entire radiator spine amidships, arguably the most critical and vulnerable system aboard, as well as the aforementioned Reactor and Main Prop Room.  In terms of real estate, Kris was in charge of just over two thirds of the ship, while Cho and Simmons split the remaining forward third, but her role, and Ivy’s for the most part, was simply to support Mike in actually fighting the ship.  And all three departments were there in unquestioning support of Nathan and his command team on the bridge.

The
Sword of Liberty
was a complex machine, many times more complicated than her schematics alone showed.  Bulkheads, cableways, and equipment enclosures were only part of the destroyer, and the lesser part by any reasonable standard of measure.  The people involved, the people who had built her, who had trained and sweat and bled for the last seventeen months in space, who had fought against all the odds to see their vision realized—even to the extent of stealing her outright—they were the soul of the ship, the driving force behind her presence here.

They were the vital cogs in the machine, finely engineered and lovingly intermeshed.  As reports of readiness rolled smoothly in, Nathan closed his eyes, savoring this penultimate moment, sensing much as any ship’s captain had down through history the bright spirit of his crew that gave their ship life, that had come together to achieve the impossible.

Now he just had to see their sacrifice and hard work justified.

“Captain, all stations report manned and ready, vacuum gear verified.  GQ-Bravo Station is set.”

Nathan opened his eyes, serene and satisfied.  “Very well, XO.  Shut all internal pressure barriers and button us up.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”  Wright touched a few icons on his screen and then keyed his intercom.  “DC Central, Bridge, verify all GQ pressure fittings and hatches closed and sealed.  Verify all atmo sections independent of one another.”

Ensign Al-Salaam answered over the speaker from Damage Control Central immediately.  “DC Central, aye, sir.  Wait one.”  Silence filled the circuit for a moment and then, “Bridge, DC Central, pressure board is green, all atmo boundaries shut and on independent recirc.”

The XO nodded.  “Bridge, aye.”  He turned to Nathan as far as his helmet and seat straps would allow him.  “Captain, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

Nathan nodded back and blew air out into his helmet in a long low whistle.  His momentary serenity vanished, putting him back on edge.  “Roger that.  Helm, take us in at one g, and close to 100,000 kilometers, parallel course.”  At that acceleration, it would take almost four hours to close, hopefully enough time for them to assure the Deltans they were friendly and ready to meet, and hopefully to ascertain the same thing about the aliens.

“Helm, aye, sir.  Thrusting at one g for a zero relative velocity rendezvous at 0.33 light-seconds.  Estimate four hours till in position.”  Andrew Weston, an enlisted Ops Tech and a former Air Force fighter pilot, went to work on his helm console.  Weight quickly returned to them all, pressing them down into their seats once more.

The return of a normal sense of up and down was a welcome comfort to Nathan, and he marveled at how spoiled he had become from Kris’ engine.  No longer did space and weightlessness go naturally hand-in-hand.  He smiled wryly and keyed his intercom.  “CIC, Captain, launch the retransmission pod.”

LT Simmons responded.  “CIC, aye, sir.  Deploying pod now.”  The
Sword of Liberty
had a total of 96 missile cells, but did not actually carry 96 missiles.  They had replaced the one missile they had tested at the beginning of the journey, but that still only brought them up to 86 Excaliburs.  The remaining ten missile cells were taken up with more diplomatic and scientific cargo.