Battle Cruiser (18 page)

-25-

Together we stared at
Altair
as she rolled, going through her death throes. She was venting plasma, gas and liquids which froze instantly into clouds of icy droplets.

We tried to establish communications with her, but failed. Now and then we caught a snatch of frantic radio, probably from one survivor’s suit to another, but we could do little to help. We had no rescue ships, no grav-beams—nothing.

Watching
Altair
die was difficult for me. I could scarcely believe I’d done such damage to one of Earth’s finest vessels.

“Open a channel in the clear,” I ordered Yamada. “Broadcast it to anyone who might be able to listen.”

“Channel ready, you’re live.”

“Crew of
Altair
,” I said. “This is the battle cruiser
Defiant
. We would like to render assistance, but we have no means to do so. If you can get to the hull of our ship, we will do what we can to help.”

A full minute passed. I began to lose hope. But then a faint, scratchy answer came back. I was sure it was a suit radio.

“We can’t trust you, Sparhawk,” said a voice.

“Yes, you can. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Midshipman Taranto. We’re not going to surrender. You’d kill the last of us if we came to you.”

I knew him, and I placed a face with the voice as soon as he said his name. He was a squatty man with lamb-chop sideburns and a hawk nose.

“No surrender is required,” I said, “I’m an honorable member of the Guard, the same as you are, Taranto. Listen to me:
Altair
is tumbling farther away. We can’t come to your rescue. You must come to us.”

“You’re a renegade, a pirate—”

“Please, let’s set aside this tragic conflict for now. A court of inquiry on Earth can settle any questions as to who was at fault.”

There was a moment of quiet, then: “You would submit to a court martial? After what you’ve done?”

“I absolutely would, if such a thing is eventually ordered by CENTCOM. I swear to that on the honor of House Sparhawk.”

“All right then. We’ll probably be butchered, but we’re coming to you. We’ve got no more than three hours of oxygen left in our suits, anyway.”

His statement left me confused. “So little? What about the lifeboats?”

“The lifeboats weren’t properly maintained.”

I understood then. The poor budgets and lax maintenance schedules had claimed more victims. The supplies aboard the lifeboats had been allowed to leak away. Probably, their fuel tanks had been emptied long ago to feed
Altair’s
hungry engines as well.

“All right, contact me when you’ve reached the outer hull. We’ll guide you in.”

The channel closed, and I looked at the screens thoughtfully.

“I need to regain the trust of these men,” I told Yamada. “I’m going to speak with our prisoner. Is he awake yet?”

“I don’t know,” she said as if startled. “I’d forgotten about him in that automated cell.”

Nodding, I walked toward the exit. “Now we know what happened to Zye.”

When I arrived at the detention center, however, I found Marine Lieutenant Morris had not been forgotten by everyone. Zye was there, staring at him through the porthole.

“Zye? Is Morris well?”

“He’s functional,” she said. “The medical machinery performed surgery on his leg—it had to be removed. The system is generating a simple prosthetic.”

I winced at that news. After all, I’d ordered the door shut on him.

Steeling myself, I walked up next to Zye, who went back to peering into the chamber quietly.

“Is he speaking?” I asked.

“I think he is,” she replied.

I saw then that Morris was indeed talking in his cell. His lips were moving, and his face was red with anger, but I couldn’t hear him.

“Why…?” I began. “Did you mute his speaker?”

“Yes. I found his speech distracting.”

“I see…what exactly are you doing here, Zye?”

She looked at me for a moment. “I’m remembering. I spent a long time in that cell. Now, for the first time, I can see a prisoner from a new perspective—that of the jailor.”

“Okay…do you mind if I talk to him now?”

“Not at all, Captain. Be my guest.”

She retreated, and I was left alone with the lieutenant. I turned on the speaker and apologized to him.

“There’s something wrong with that woman!” he told me. “I don’t know where you found her, but she’s a freak.”

“She’s a Beta,” I said. “A colonist. They’ve been cut off from Earth for so long, their cultural norms have clearly deviated. Are you well, Lieutenant?”

He glared at me and slapped his lower leg. “Oh sure, I’m doing fine. I’ve just got to get used to this plastic leg!”

“I’m sorry about that. This ship isn’t capable of regrowing tissue, I guess. When you get back to Earth, I’m sure they can fix that.”

“Yeah, right. Six weeks in some ward full of cripples, waiting for my turn. Thanks a lot, Sparhawk.”

“Would you rather be dead?”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m sorry. You’ve kept me alive. It’s just that woman—a Beta, you say? I barely remember the long list of colonies. They taught us about them in school, but I never thought I’d meet one.”

“Lieutenant, there are things we must discuss.”

I told him then about the fate of
Altair
. He was shocked.

“You mean you destroyed one of our best ships?” he demanded. “You killed the bridge crew?”

“
Altair
was disabled, not destroyed. She can and will be repaired.”

“With what?” he snorted. “Have you seen our budgets the last few years? She’ll be scrapped.”

I shook my head. “Think it through, Lieutenant. We’re on a battle cruiser. If she were in prime condition, I’d bet she could take on every ship Earth has combined. In the light of this, the government will have no choice other than to increase the budget for the navy—dramatically, I should think.”

“Huh,” he said, staring into space. “You might be right. If the colonists have powerful vessels like this, and a few of them managed to get here, we’d have no chance. The navy will have to be rebuilt to defend the home world. Damn…the colonists might have twenty ships like this—they could conquer Earth in a week!”

“Exactly,” I said, “and that brings me to my next point. Earth is going to need every vessel and guardsman she has. That would include you, me and this captured ship.”

“It hasn’t been captured yet,” Morris said, his eyes narrowing, “you’re still aboard.”

“I’m not the man Singh said I was. I’m a member of Star Guard. Everything I did I was forced to do in order to save my crew.”

He stared at me suspiciously. “You didn’t obey orders. You declared mutiny against Singh, who was leading the task force.”

“Let’s go over the sequence of events. I was sent out to investigate this object. At the time, no one knew
Defiant
was a ship.”

“Go on.”

“When I got here and reported back that I’d found a large vessel, not a natural comet, Singh ordered me and my crew to stay here. He wanted
Cutlass
to sit on the hull of this ship so we’d be stationary targets. Then, he ordered
Altair’s
gunners to destroy my vessel.”

Morris looked troubled. “That was a head-scratcher. We marines were put on standby, but I heard what the gunners were chatting about. They didn’t know quite why we were to fire on our own pinnace. Singh said you’d refused to obey orders—but the gunners could see the situation. They knew you were just sitting there on top of this rock that turned out to be a ship.”

“Exactly. When the attack came, I ordered my people to run as there wasn’t time to lift off and escape. We found our way into the ship after that. The rest you’re familiar with.”

“Okay, let’s pretend I believe your story,” he said. “Why would Singh do it? What possible reason could there be?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but it must have to do with the fact this vessel is a warship. Perhaps he wanted full credit for the find. Or perhaps he planned to use it, or sell it. I’m sure the truth will come out in the end after a full investigation.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You’re a son of House Sparhawk. I think that’s why Singh hated you so much.”

“It was clear he disliked me personally,” I said. “You knew this?”

“Everyone did. He leaned on you from day one. He gave you
Cutlass
, the worst pinnace of the lot, only because he wanted you off his decks.”

Nodding, I considered the possibilities. Singh had maintained a grudge against me, that much was clear. Still, attempting to destroy my pinnace and kill my crew seemed extreme, even for him.

“It had to be related to this ship,” I said. “He asked me to investigate and when I made my initial report, he ordered me to return. We were low on fuel, and he was determined to come out personally. I think he decided he had to kill me when I discovered the truth about this object—that it was a large ship. I’m thinking now that he sent all the pinnaces out to look for this ship, but when we found it he didn’t want the discovery made public.”

“I’m with you on that one. Say, Sparhawk, is there any chance you can let me out of this cell?”

I stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m the senior Guard officer on this ship. Do you accept that fact?”

“Yes…” he said, eyes narrowed.

“Good. Therefore, I’m in command here for now. In time I’m sure I’ll be relieved—either when we return to Earth, or when other vessels arrive to perform a rescue. Do I have your word as a guardsman that you will obey my orders until that time?”

“As long as you don’t ask me to do something contrary to the laws of man or nature,” he said warily.

“On your honor, do you so swear?” I asked.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Swearing on one’s honor was a big deal to any guardsman, especially a marine.

“All right,” he said at last. “You have my word. But you better not be full of shit, Sparhawk. If you are, I’ll tear your guts out myself.”

“I stand forewarned.”

Working the detention center control board, I opened the cell door. He walked out cautiously, as if he were barely able to believe he was free.

“I owe you my life,” he said, “but I also owe you death for killing my officers.”

“We must put all that aside for now,” I told him. “Earth itself is under threat. As you said, the Betas might have a dozen more of these vessels lurking somewhere.”

He laughed unpleasantly. “If they do, we’re totally screwed.”

I didn’t arm the lieutenant, but I did allow him to walk unrestrained at my side. We got as far as the detention area exit before we were intercepted.

An angry, looming Zye stood in the doorway when it shunted open. She had a pistol leveled at Lieutenant Morris’ chest.

“Have you been coerced, Captain?” she demanded without taking her eyes off Morris.

“No,” I said. “The lieutenant and I have come to an understanding. He’s an honorable man, and I’m sure he will obey me until such time as I’m no longer in command of this vessel.”

Her eyes flashed to me, then back to Morris, who had his hands part-way up. He was glaring, but he looked worried, too.

“I don’t condone releasing an enemy combatant,” Zye said. “But you’re in command, as you said.”

She lowered her weapon partway. By my estimate of the angle, she was now aiming at Morris’s groin, rather than at his chest.

“Excellent,” I said. “This way, Lieutenant.”

I walked smartly down the passage. Morris followed me, favoring his false limb. I noticed that now and then he cast a glance over his shoulder at Zye.

“She’s still following us,” he muttered, “and she’s got that gun trained on my back.”

I nodded appreciatively. “An excellent bodyguard. She trusts, she obeys—but she keeps a tight watch. I approve.”

Morris looked at me in confusion. “What kind of a hold do you have over her?”

“She’s placed herself under my command. As you have.”

“Huh. You must be some kind of sorcerer, Sparhawk!”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Morris laughed at that. It was a real, full-bellied laugh. I couldn’t help but like the man.

-26-

When I reached the life support center, I found Yamada wasn’t there. She’d left a message blinking on the display. It was a map showing the current deck and the one above. She’d left a dashed line in yellow, which climbed up a shaft and to another location.

“Yamada?” I radioed, “where are you?”

“The ship’s repair bots have been busy, sir,” she said promptly. “I’m on the bridge. Not everything is working up here, but we’ve got sensors, communications and weapons control.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Lieutenant Morris followed me, and Zye’s ominous presence brought up the rear. We found the new bridge to be a hotbed of activity. There were repair bots everywhere. Two of them were setting up consoles, welding with an upper arm while two lower arms held metal slabs in place.

I was impressed by the sturdy nature of Beta construction. Unlike
Altair
, which was thin-hulled and lightly armored in comparison, everything about this vessel seemed solid and built to last. The interior structure wasn’t as tough as the outer hull, but it was still fullerene-laced. The poly-alloy base material used in the decks and walls was several centimeters thick. Nothing about
Defiant
was weak.

The internal components of the bridge such as consoles and furniture were mere steel, but they were still impressive due to their precise form.

“Is this the command center?” I asked, stepping to a central raised stage and eyeing three chairs of startling size.

“Yes,” Zye answered from behind me. “The captain sits in the rearward seat, overlooking the other two, which are occupied by the helmsmen and the tactical officer. All three seats can spin in any direction, including a vertical angle.”

I ran my hands over the chairs, each of which was enclosed in a spherical cage of metal tubing. They were attached to the floor, but built to rotate freely. They looked almost like gyroscopes to me. I could tell they were designed to keep the bridge crew oriented in any direction they wished.

“How do these seats work, exactly?” I asked.

“The ship’s inertial dampeners are designed to prevent injury caused by high-G acceleration,” Zye said. “But it’s possible during maneuvers to overload the dampeners. It’s been determined that these chairs can prevent blackouts by always rotating so that the officers will be in an optimal position to take the centrifugal forces exerted on their bodies.”

“I see…” I said, walking around the enclosed, cage-like chair in the rear of the group—the captain’s chair. I put my hands on the tubing and gently spun it. To my surprise, it moved easily.

“Do you want to give it a try, Captain?” Yamada asked. She moved to the forward console Zye had identified as the helmsman’s station and took a seat, smiling at me.

“Yes, why not?” I said. Feeling oddly elated, I climbed into the seat and felt it roll under me. “Can you lock it?” I asked. “It’s moving too easily.”

“Of course,” she said.

Yamada touched her console, and my seat instantly resisted motion. I could still move it by applying pressure with my feet against the deck, but it wasn’t rolling all over the place anymore.

“I like that better,” I said. “The view from inside this seat is unobstructed for the most part. It’s like sitting inside the cockpit of a power-lifter.”

“I thought the same,” she said. “The system is set up so you can turn and apply your hands directly to the rear console, or you can look over the shoulders of the helmsman and gunner.”

“Zye?” I asked. “What about navigation, sensor operations and communications?”

“Those stations are arrayed along the walls,” she said, pointing to the stations encircling the central three. “The ship is designed to be operated with a minimum bridge crew of three. More personnel improve responsiveness, but they’re optional. These three stations can perform every function.”

I looked back at her. “I’m impressed,” I said. “This is a Beta design, I take it?”

“Yes—well no, not exactly.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Zye shifted slightly, moving her weight from one heavy hip to the other. Her long, straight black hair swung with the movement.

“Normal Betas aren’t capable of innovative designs. This work was done by an Alpha.”

I blinked at her. “Did you say an Alpha? So you aren’t all clones?”

“We
are
clones, but we’re not all equal. Slight mutations are applied to one out of every hundred embryos. The DNA is reshuffled, varied at random. Often, these special clones die as they aren’t viable. But sometimes a special individual is spawned. An Alpha.”

Spinning my chair around, I gestured for her to take the third seat, fire control. She did so, and she fit perfectly. In comparison I felt like a child playing in my father’s favorite chair.

“You Zye,” I said. “You’re an Alpha, aren’t you?”

“I was meant to be,” she admitted. “I was a variation, an experiment. But I was a failure, in the end. It was determined that my variation wasn’t useful, and I was to be put down.”

My mouth opened, then closed again. I nodded thoughtfully. “I see,” I said. “You hid your flaws. You survived. You were eventually found out, however, and that’s why you were imprisoned.”

“Yes,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, but the subject is painful to me. It’s my greatest shame.”

“There’s no shame in being different, Zye,” I said firmly. I spread my hands wide. “Look at us. We’re all variations. None of us conform to any mold. You’re among your own kind here. Even if your Beta sisters rejected you, you’ve been accepted on this crew.”

She smiled then. Her thin lips twitched up, but the expression quickly faded. I was happy to see her reaction.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said.

I thought about pressing her to reveal the nature of her “variations”. How, exactly, was she unlike her fellow Betas? She’d said when we’d first met that her crime was to hide things, and clearly she’d managed to do that for a very long time. But they’d found her out in the end.

Despite my curiosity, I decided to pass on asking her more probing questions. Eventually, she’d open up and let us know more about her painful past. When she felt like telling us more, I’d be on hand to listen.

“All right then,” I said, turning to Yamada, “let’s go over the repair list. What are those robots up to?”

“Oh…okay,” she said, taken by surprise. “I’ve got the list right here, sir.”

She began to rattle off numbers and details. I was pleased. The repair bots were working constantly, fixing systems all over the ship. Initially there had been only two functional robots. Their top priority, apparently, had been repairing more generators so that more robots could operate. Now we had a full army of bots bustling around doing critical work. Since there were no more robots to put online, they were all working on the ship itself, and they were fixing things with startling speed.

“What about the external repairs?” I asked. “The sensor arrays and the damaged hull?”

“Are you sure you plan to give this ship up when the time comes, Sparhawk?” Lieutenant Morris asked me suddenly.

I spun my chair to face him. I’d forgotten about him, but he’d been standing near the exit watching us the entire time.

“What are you saying, Lieutenant?” I asked.

“That you seem to be entirely too comfortable in that chair. You know the Guard will never let you keep command of this vessel, don’t you?”

I struggled to keep a straight face. Although his words did sting, I knew he was right—I was falling in love with this battle cruiser. I no longer cared who had built her.

Chastising myself internally, I climbed out of the captain’s seat. “I suppose you’re right. We need to get on with the rescue effort. Have any of the survivors from
Altair
reached our hull yet?”

“No sir,” Yamada said, “but they should be arriving soon. They managed to get one of their lifeboats to operate, but all it did was give them a boost in our direction before they ran out of fuel.”

Frowning, I examined the data. “Are you saying the entire crew of
Altair
is riding in a single lifeboat?”

“Not exactly. They wouldn’t all fit inside. Most of them are clinging to it. What I’m saying is they used the boat’s very limited fuel reserves to counter
Altair’s
spin. They’re without power now, and they’ll crash down into the outer hull in…about twelve minutes.”

“What’s their velocity?”

“About thirty kilometers an hour, sir.”

I thought about that. It wasn’t a fatal speed, especially with a soft mass of snow to cushion the landing—but it would be enough to break bones.

“Let’s go up and meet them,” I said.

My crewmen looked at me. “That wasn’t the arrangement you made with Taranto,” Yamada said.

“You listened to that?”

“I overheard,” she said quickly.

“Their speed of descent will cause injuries. I’m not going to be responsible for any more deaths if I can help it. Yamada, stay here. Zye, you come with me.”

“Wait,” Lieutenant Morris said. “Can I come with you?”

“Will you remember your oath? To obey my commands while aboard this vessel, until we either get back to Earth or authorities arrive?”

“Yes. If you’ll save the crew and give up when the time is right—then yes. I can help convince the crew to cooperate as well.”

I nodded sharply. I was pleased by his attitude, but I didn’t want to show it too overtly. The truth was, I needed a man
Altair’s
crew would trust to convince them not to try to kill us all and take over the ship.

We exited the ship through the same gaps in the hull that Lieutenant Morris and his men had originally used to board her. Morris led the way, in fact.

Boot tracks going the other way were commonly discovered. There were a lot of them. I realized that we’d barely won this struggle.

“What would you have done, Lieutenant,” I asked, “if you’d managed to take this ship? Execute my crew?”

“What? No.”

“Imagine the scenario,” I pressed. “We fought hard but lost. Five or six of us survived, wounded and spent. The order comes down from Singh—kill the prisoners.”

Morris looked at me as if I were mad. “Why would he do that?”

“Imagine that I’m telling the truth. That Singh was on some kind of mutinous mission of his own. He gives you that order—what do you do?”

Morris hesitated, troubled. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I could do it. We marines are few and far between these days. Most of the Guard is landlocked. A few fly in the navy. We’re trained to follow orders—but I don’t know.”

“Were you technically the Marine Commander aboard
Altair
?”

“Was I? I still
am
the ship’s Marine Commander—well, whatever’s left of her.”

“Does that position give you independent authority?”

He shrugged. “To a degree. An admiral or a captain could order me around, of course. My only discretion is how to follow their directives. Boarding ships, defending ships, that’s my job. Of course, this is the first real action other than search and seizure missions involving smugglers that we’ve done in a century.”

Nodding thoughtfully, I followed him up onto the outer hull of the ship. It was like exiting an ice-encrusted cave in the Antarctic. Overhead, the stars glittered. Jupiter was visible, and from our vantage point, the massive planet resembled a small moon. We were far closer to the gas giant than Earth had ever come in her locked orbit. I could even make out a few of the largest Jovian moons like motes of dust circling a bulb of light.

“How long?” Zye asked me.

“Until the lifeboat arrives?” I asked. “About two minutes.”

She peered off into the distance. “I think I see it. Something is coming toward us. Our speeds are almost matched—but we’re being overtaken.”

I followed her gaze, but saw nothing.

“I can’t see the boat!” Morris said, moving restlessly and peering into space. “Can you see if it’s tumbling?”

“I don’t think so,” Zye said, staring.

I could only surmise that her eyes were better than ours. It made sense—if you were going to clone thousands of giants, filling an entire star system with them, you might as well design them with excellent vision.

“Zye,” I asked. “Is there any chance they’ll hit us?”

“I can’t tell. We should stand inside the rip in the ship’s hull. We can take shelter at the last moment if necessary.”

We waited for two long, tense minutes. At last, I could see the tiny lifeboat, as well. It was tumbling, but gently. A spray of smaller objects, silhouetted by the light of the distant Sun, leapt free from her at the last moment and sent themselves off in random directions.

“They’re jumping off,” Zye said, “so the ship doesn’t crush them.”

“Taranto!” I shouted. “We’re here, we see you’re inbound. We’ll come to render aid as soon as you impact. Please identify your most seriously injured people, so we can take them to our medical facilities first.”