Dreaming of Atmosphere (37 page)

“You were pretty decent, yourself.”

“Those weren’t Star Marine moves you pulled.”

“No, they were Garz’a
lurzak
manoeuvres. Crege’s been teaching me for a few years now.”

“If you were using a real
lurzak
blade that last blow would have removed my whole arm.”

“Probably. I recognised a few of your own moves. Not too many military schools teach those styles. Eridanian?”

“This again?”

“Dog with a bone, remember?”

“Okay, you beat me, you deserve something.”

“Hit me.”

“Esper Royal Guard, then a few more specialised roles in the Esper Royal Service.”

“Huh. That’s how you knew about the Coil Wraith and those synthetics on the Viridian March?”

“Yeah, been a while since I was a Royalist though.”

“What made you leave?”

“Politics.”

I laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“The only reason we ever enter, and then leave the service. Politics.”

“I thought you drummed out medically?”

“Nope. They wanted to parade me around as the hero of the Push. Sole survivor and all that rubbish.”

“Yeah, that would suck. Being a famous hero and all.”

“I’m no hero, Art. I’m just the lucky son of a bitch who made it back alive.”

“And here we are, dragging your heroic arse back into it.”

“Here we are.”

44.

We had a few more days of relative peace before the Blade of Xerxes was in position to make another attack. The Korveli-Xue Galactic Corporation wasn’t done with us yet, and as the lead time between us dwindled, so too did our chances of surviving an all-out assault. As our options narrowed, Maxine, Fel’negr and I started having regular meetings in the command module. My handing down of a sentence to Mal had gone down better than I’d expected. He seemed truly remorseful when I spoke to him and informed him of his future position with the crew. He’d nodded calmly when I told him of his pay cut, when I’d told him of his extra duties and that he could forget about any senior positions on the ship for the foreseeable future. He took it all in stride, in silence, and with a bowed head. I think he actually expected us to toss him out the ‘lock, because I could swear the man looked grateful at the end. Maxine had released him from his cabin shortly afterwards, and he went about his duties with quiet solemnity.

I was in the command module for one of my shifts, along with Fel and Maxine having one of our daily discussions on what we can do if things got out of control with the Xerxes. We’d tweaked the mirror array that housed the nanite package linked to Tac and his decryption program. Our biggest fear was if they launched one of the Mark 98 Laser Guided Ionising Magnetic rounds at us at close range, that Tac wouldn’t have enough time to break through the pulse coding on the light beam and disrupt the tracking fast enough. Although almost all the rail gun rounds had rudimentary guidance, it was this one round type that had the ability to keep up with our juking and jiving. Get close enough and they could probably get us with a kinetic warhead even.

It was this fear that prompted the meeting. Fel and Tac had been running simulations and they felt it was time to bring it to Max and I.

“So we got to thinking,” explained Fel, “Instead of trying to break up the tracking data the laser was feeding the shell, we could instead just filter it into the beamer and get it to fire along that path way.”

“Wouldn’t we still need to decode the data?” I asked.

Not entirely, First Mate Donovan. We do not need to unlock the pulse code, we just need to isolate it in the algorithm and use it as acquisition data for the beamer.

“But how would the beamer know what it was looking at?”

“It just needs to invert the data.” explained Fel.

“So let me get this right.” started Maxine, “You want us to feed enemy data streams directly into our AI, and then had him slot it into our one and only weapon?”

“Well, when you word it like that, I guess it does sound dicey.” admitted Fel.

“It’s dicey as all hell.”

“How confident are you that the beamer can hit it at that range?” I asked Tac.

I am 74.2% certain that the beamer will impact the target at extreme range. Waiting a few more seconds for the shell to get closer significantly increases that accuracy, at the expense of a viable safe distance of disposal.

“What’s our optimum distance versus safe range?”

2.72 seconds after the shell is within maximum range brings the accuracy to 88.32%, but there is a 17% chance the shell’s detonation will still affect the Dreaming in some fashion.

“Some fashion? Like an explosion?”

Insufficient data to provide a meaningful answer.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Depends on the warhead.”

Correct, First Mate Donovan.

“What do you think, Cap?”

“How does it rate up against our current plan?” she directed this to Fel.

“We fed a few simulated pulse codes into the algorithm, and the best time we could crack it in was eleven seconds, there about.”

“How much time until the beamer would be in range at that lead time?”

8.1 seconds, Captain Cooper.

“That’s pretty close.”

“So we either trust that Tac can crack the code in time or we try and blast the round into dust when our lead time hits eleven seconds away.” I summarised.

“Your call, Captain.” said Fel.

She knuckled her brow in concentration. After a few minutes she called it, ordering the beamer option added as the solution at close range, but leaving the algorithm in place for lead times up to 20 seconds.

“How long until we’re that close?” she asked.

Fel checked his instruments before answering. “Seventy one hours, forty two seconds.”

“Two and a half ship days, nearly. What’s our lead time now?”

“Twenty minutes, fourteen seconds. Thirteen seconds.”

“How far until the Xerxes will need to brake?”

“If they plan to orbit the Jump Gate, sixty nine hours.”

“What if they just do a fly by, clip us on the way through?” I asked. I figured if I was the Captain of the Xerxes there was no way I’d let us slip through the Jump Gate just because I had to slow down at some point. “What if they just alter their course by a fraction of a degree so that they don’t pass through the Protectorate low velocity zone?”

Maxine swivelled about on her chair and faced her console, typing away at the controls. Fel did the same, and they bandied astro-navigational concepts at each other for a few minutes. I didn’t even try the math, I’d had enough headaches this week.

Fel was the first to answer. “They could probably get within ten seconds lead time of us, if the navigators on that ship are top notch.”

“There’s no reason to believe that they’re not.” added Max, “I got ten seconds point five five. It could maintain that lead time for an hour and a half before they’d pull away again. How quickly can the beamer fire at that range?”

“A few seconds is all it needs, but that’s not the problem.” I said, “There’s no way we can leave it charged for ten minutes, let along an hour and a half. We’d fry the holding capacitors.”

“Shit.” swore Max.

“Yeah.”

“Next windfall we get, remind me to invest in some Class 1 weapons.”

She had a point. Although they were a magnitude less powerful, Class 1 weapons can be fired with little to no charging and can fire continuously depending on their type. In fact, a Class 1 weapon would have made this predicament far more easily avoided, as we could pretty much spam shots at any incoming rounds whenever they got close. Our beamer was weapon designed to be fire infrequently, it needed a few minutes between shots to recharge.

It wasn’t every day that we were chased by galactic bullies in giant organic ships that shot Class 3 weapons. It’s the kind of scenario you just don’t plan contingencies for. Unfortunately, most pirates aren’t deterred by being shot at with a Class 1 weapon.

“Last question, how long until we can enter then Jump Gate?”

“Eighty three hours.”

“Well, this is it. They’ll probably send a few more rounds very soon. I’m going to talk to the crew.” Max grabbed the PA mic and cleared her throat. “All hands, this is the Captain. We’re reaching a critical point in this run, things should pick up in tempo real soon. I want all compartments secured for high-gee manoeuvres as soon as possible, I want no loose items sculling about that could become a missile hazard at any time. Always be aware of your nearest crash harness, and listen out for hull breaches. Until further notice, all Deck 3 compartments are out of bounds. Cuts, can you ensure all access hatches are sealed and are air tight. If we get a breach down there, we can address it at a later date. Try and minimise wandering between compartments unless you need to, and all crew are to remain on Deck 2 unless their duties require them to access the command deck. Sorry, Zoe, that means you need to stay in your own cabin tonight.” I groaned as Max gave me a smirk and winked at me, “Last of all, we’re low on polycrete foam, so if you can seal a compartment in the event of a breach, please do so instead of plugging it. We’ll triage the leaks when we’re able. I love you all. Captain, out.”

She lowered the mic and turned serious. “I want you and Fel to stay on the command deck. Fel, can you bunk with Seth for the next few day?”

“I’m sure I can put up with him until then.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably put you two on continuous bridge duty anyway, so sort it out between you how you’re going to divvy up the time. I’ll stay on as day hand and get some shut eye in the wee hours. Make sure before you use the heads that you have someone covering up here at all times.”

“Are you our Space Mummy, now? It’s not our first shift on the bridge.” I smiled at her.

“I’m allowed to worry, I’m paying the bills if one of you shits wanders off for a piss and we get smashed in the meantime.”

“I’m not even sure where that comment loses sight of reality.” said Fel, smiling as well.

“You both going to poke fun at me, now are we?” she said.

“If we can get away with it, yeah.” I said, laughing.

“If you want, we can get Crege back up here to join in?”

“Why? You worried I’m too much for you two boys to handle?”

“Oh, we
know
you’re too much for us both to handle.” I added, “I’ve seen you naked, remember?”

“You what?” said Fel, doing a double take.

Both Max and I burst out laughing as Fel’s eyes burned a crimson tone that showed his outright surprise.

“Don’t worry, Fel.” said Max, “If we pull through this, I’ll give you a lap dance in the mess deck.”

“Ha! It’s been a while since we had an entertainment night!” I said, slapping my knee. Poor Fel’s eyes turned a greenish yellow tinge of embarrassment.

“Ah, no thanks. No disrespect but you human females are way too hairy for my tastes.”

“What makes you think I’m hairy under this jump suit?”

Now it was my turn to turn red. Goddamn women and their filthy minds.

45.

I awoke from a dream of the dark nanite seas to the sound of the PA system blaring in my cabin. Fel had drawn the short straw and taken the first watch after our meeting and I’d gone straight to bed to get what sleep I could. Now I was being blasted awake by Fel shouting into the PA system.

“All hands! Weapons release detected! Close up on stations! Repeat! Weapons release detected! Close up on stations!”

I was sleeping in my jump suit, so I just jumped straight to the deck and ran along the command deck towards the command module. I’d gotten about ten metres out from my cabin before I realised I’d forgotten to put my shoes on, and the cold deck plates were freezing the bottoms of my feet. I debated turning back for them for two heartbeats but figured if Max come out of her cabin she’d chew me a new one for running the wrong direction. As I dashed towards the bridge, I passed a damage control locker and grabbed a pair of light duty space boots, pulling them on one at a time between steps. Light duty is a relative turn, they were still large and clumsy to walk in, but very warm.

I got to the hatch and opened it. Max was still on watch with Fel, and they were both in a flurry of activity pushing buttons on their consoles. Max turned to nod at me as I entered, then did a double take when she saw my boots.

“Don’t ask.” I said as I slipped past her and sat down in the pilot’s chair.

“If you’re planning an EVA, you’ll at least need a helmet, Donny.” she chided.

“What have we got?” I could see three contacts had been tagged on one of the consoles, their distances dwindling as I watched.

“Single round, two escorts.” reported Fel.

“Escorts?”

“Looks like single man fighters, bullet configuration.”

“Crazy, sonofa…”

With the introduction of drone combat, the use of space fighters became pretty much obsolete. Even Class 1 weapons can easily take out a fighter, as they can’t perform with as much agility as a drone. Drones can twist and turn at gee forces that would turn a living pilot to pulp, while a fighter will need to maintain relatively low gee manoeuvres. That makes them virtually sitting ducks for rapid firing Class 1 weapons.

“What do they hope to achieve using fighters?”

Electro-magnetic sensors are detecting unusually strong Prallgian-Kronnen fields enveloping those two fighter contacts.

“How strong?” Max asked.

High modulation, rapid cycling fields of approximately 12 MWatts.

“That’s stronger than ours.” I said.

“What do we know about fighters?” she asked.

“Crege should be in on this conversation.”

Maxine looked like she was staring off into the distance, and I could tell she was sending him a text. His response was sent to us all.

Most likely Frikk Eclipse Fighters. Skilled pilots, glory hounds all of them. Very expensive.

What are their capabilities?
I texted back.

High acceleration, short range. Shields designed to withstand nuclear attacks. Class 1 weapons, have seen Class 2 missiles a few times. Should be able to see them if they have those.

“Tac, give me optics on the starboard fighter.” ordered Max. I brought up the same image that Max had, checking it all over for signs of missile pods or attachments. I packaged a still frame and sent it to Crege’s overlay.

What do you think? I can’t see one.
I asked.

No missiles. Class 1 only.

“You think another nuke? Blind us while they cut up our propulsion?” asked Max.

“Could be.” I checked our lead time, we had fifteen minutes until convergence. The two fighters were angled slightly apart, putting distance between their craft and the shell. Even with the initial velocity of the organo-ship, the gee forces on the fighter pilots must be enormous. There’s no way those pilots would be conscious right now. That gave me an idea.

Crege, how do the pilots sustain high gee?
I texted.

Cockpits filled with pressurised fluid, life support directly to the pilot.

Do they remain conscious?

Not at that acceleration. They’ll get jolted awake when they reach convergence.

How are the auto-navigation systems on these Eclipse Fighters?

Terrible, not enough room for decent AI.

Thanks.

Happy hunting, kitrak.

“What are you thinking?” asked Max.

“Those fighters are under rudimentary guidance, almost like a round themselves. They won’t have any hazard avoidance.”

She turned and looked at her data. “Go on.”

“They’d be tracking the Dreaming, which means
we
control where they’re headed.”

Maxine started laughing. “Oh, you are an evil bastard, Donny.”

“What are you planning?” asked Fel.

“We still have that Ogre synthetic chassis in the aft cargo. Let’s give it back to them.” I said. Maxine was still laughing. “Tac, we’re going to lead a little bit of debris in our wake, can you track it and put a trajectory on my pilot console number three for me?”

Certainly, First Mate Donovan.

Maxine grabbed the PA mic. “Hergo, Denno, head down to aft cargo and haul that big synthetic wreck into the aft ‘lock. If you can find anything else that’s big and heavy that we can spare, put that in there too.”

In a few minutes, the Argen reported that the aft airlock was filled with synthetic chassis and a few empty cargo crates. The Ogre’s shield was also put in there.

“Okay, flush it out, boys!” called Max. In seconds, Tac had the debris cloud mapped out on a trajectory as we pulled away from it. I watched as it fell behind us, and began to manoeuvre the ship to one side. Sure enough, the fighters, along with the shell, began to adjust their course to match ours. The shell, I knew, would just plough right through the debris, only suffering slight damage, but at this speed even a small amount of damage to a manned craft would be enough to cause catastrophic damage. With giggling glee, I angled our course so that the left most fighter would begin to drift into the cloud of debris.

“Contact in one minute!” called Fel after a while.

“What about the other one?” asked Max.

“The beamer should be able to take out those shields, won’t be able to kill it, but the nuke will take care of the rest.”

“You sure? Those are pretty strong shields.” added Fel.

“Hmm. Well, with any luck they’ll lose sensors like we normally do after we take their shields down a notch. Hopefully that will give us enough time to recharge and take another shot.”

“We got anything else we can toss out?”

“Not that we can spare.”

“Contact in ten seconds!” called Fel.

“Here we go. This is beautiful.” said Max. Sure enough, the cloud of debris hit the fighter and tore it to pieces, and it disappeared in a puff of expanding debris of its own. Maxine was shaking her head smiling. “The Captain of the Xerxes must be jumping up and down on his bridge. I would give my left tit to see the look on his face right now.”

“Seven minutes until convergence.” came Fel’s report.

“How long until they’re within beamer range?”

“About six minutes and forty seconds.”

“Charging beamer.” I said.

“How long until we can get a second shot off after the first?”

“At least three minutes.”

“Tac, how quickly can we get sensors back online after the nuke goes off?”

2 minutes 30 seconds on average, Captain. Depending on which systems go offline. There is a variance of approximately 47 seconds either direction.

“What are the chances that fighter has better sensor recovery than we do?” she mused.

“They’re a military craft, probably got systems for that.”

“Options?”

“Trust in our guns.” I said.

“Manoeuvring too far away will give the Blade of Xerxes precious ground, it would seem we have little choice.”

“Okay, good luck.” she said.

The minutes and then seconds trickled by. Like many of the other times I’d been involved in space combat, it was always to waiting that was hardest to come to terms with. There was always lots of waiting, followed by brief moments of terror. Ours came all too soon.

“Acquired target! Tracking! Firing solution valid! Firing!” I called.

“Weapons release detected!”

“All hands! Brace for impact!”

“Detonation detected! Sensors offline!”

Internal sensors indicate several hull breaches in aft cargo and engineering space echo-9.

“Hergo! Denno! Are you still in aft cargo?” called Max, “Damn it! I should have told them to get out.”

Deck Hand Denno reports they had moved back to Deck 2 immediately after jettisoning the debris, Captain.

Max breathed a sigh of relief.

Engineer Cutler reports that engineering compartment echo-9 is sealed and is airtight. Minor damage to life support module ‘echo’ reported, redundant systems online.

“What can we see, Seth? Anything at all?” she asked.

“Negative, we are blind on all sensors.”

We sat in silence for several moments, waiting for our sensors to come back online, or for us to be blown to pieces by the enemy fighter. Suddenly, the ship reverberated with several loud bangs.

Hull breach detected, Deck 1 aft ventral shaft. Losing pressure on Deck 1 command deck.

“Never mind, we’re safe in here for now.” said Max.

Another series of hits sounded from somewhere in the ship, the bangs travelling along the metal of the ship’s structure.

Damage detected port nacelle. Condensing stream unstable in Module 4 of the port propulsion.

Max grabbed the PA. “Mal, we’re losing module four on the port nacelle. Switch us over to hydrogen emissions.”

“Sensors are coming up. They’re initialising.” reported Fel, “Calibrating…EM, gravity, radiological, optics are online, the rest are still calibrating.”

“Radar?” I asked.

“Standby.”

More hits rocked the ship, but Tac didn’t report any damage.

“Tac, damage report!”

Nothing.

“Tac?”

“Captain, I am receiving text from Tac, but it appears he has suffered some damage. I am unable to make out the content of his messages.” said Fel.

“Shit. Must have hit the sensor nexus.”

“Or there was a power surge that feeds the nexus.”

We could make out the fighter now, as the optical sensors started to feed data to our displays. We still couldn’t track the fighter with enough accuracy to fire with the beamer, we’d need our radar up and working for that. I gripped the console faring with both hands and took a deep breath. I was about to flood the console with my nanites and take control of the ship again, but Zoe’s words rang in my mind. If I suffer a seizure again, I could put the crew in great danger. I had to trust the ship to get us through the next few seconds.

“Beamer charging!” I called instead, removing my hands from the console.

“Radar coming online, collimating… radar ready!”

I waited for the radar to start tracking the target, and watched the beamer controls and indicators eagerly.

“Target acquired! Tracking! Beamer firing!”

The sweet, sweet howl of the beamer eclipsed all other sounds briefly as the energy beam swept out into space and sprayed over the fighter. In less than a second it chewed through the weakened shield and then it was all over, the beam pierced the fragile hull and speared out through the rear of the ship. The glare of the fighter’s propulsion drive flared out and the ship tumbled out of control, a dead husk.

“Target destroyed.” I said, slumping back into the chair. I heard the others release their breath in concert.