A Galaxy Unknown (13 page)

"Aye, Captain." Gloria came to attention, turned on her heel, and left the briefing room.

Jenetta knew from her military training that nothing inspires such intense loyalty in a crew as does success in a military campaign, and no one could deny the outstanding success of their attack on the Raider ship, even if luck did play a significant role. But she wasn't at all happy about the new military formality. Knowing that Gloria wouldn't use her given name, even though they had become friends before she'd assumed command, made her feel the first traces of loneliness that always come with senior level positions. She knew that she couldn't ask the ship's company to stop the formality, because it was a special gift to her, rather than a duty, and she couldn't possibly reject such an unprecedented gift from an entire crew.

Touching her log ring to the spindle of the desk's media drawer so she could make a daily entry to her personal log, she started by expressing her personal unhappiness with the new military protocol on the ship. She had just finished articulating her thoughts when Anthony arrived with the pot of coffee she'd requested. She said, "Log update," to record the new entries on her ring, touched it to the spindle again, and then said "Come." Anthony entered when the door opened, and set the tray down on her desk to pour a mug for her.

"Nice and fresh, Captain. I just made it."

"Thank you, Anthony." When he continued to stand there, she smiled and added, "You're dismissed."

Anthony returned her smile and said "Aye, Captain," before turning and leaving.

‘Well, at least he didn't come to attention,' she thought.

Jenetta spent the rest of the morning reading through the technical manuals that were related to the ship's construction and performance. A search of the database turned up an engineering manual on the installed Falcon Mark III system and she devoted a couple of hours to a cover-to-cover study of the weapon system materials. "Ah ha! Mystery solved!" she said aloud as she read through an addendum of system upgrades. Although the basic weapon system still had most of the shortcomings that eventually caused the military to cease installation in new warships, the missiles themselves had been upgraded. They were still dumber than a housekeeping bot, but the single propulsion stage had been replaced with two smaller stages. The modification was intended to increase its effective range, by sacrificing higher velocity. Instead of accelerating towards the target for one-hundred-eighty seconds, and then going ballistic, at which point the torpedo lost all ability to maneuver, the two-stage design accelerated for only one-hundred-twenty-seconds, then went ballistic. It would travel that way for up to twelve minutes, unless it first lost the target and then reacquired it. Reacquisition of the target would cause the second stage to immediately ignite. Since it's velocity after the first stage burned out could be something along the lines of 42,500 kps, sixty-seconds of renewed acceleration and maneuverability when it neared its target was a significant improvement.

Based on her interpretation of the upgrade, the Vordoth's torpedoes must have exhausted the fuel in stage-one while chasing the destroyer's counter measures. They had dumped all their acceleration in changing directions, so when the counter measures died, the torpedoes went ballistic in whatever direction they were headed, but were moving only slowly. When proximity to their original quarry suddenly retriggered their targeting systems, the second stages ignited, and the rest was history. Jenetta smiled as she was reminded of the eruption of counter measures a second before the first torpedo struck. That must have been one very surprised tactical officer when the alarms went off and he realized that four torpedoes were just seconds away, and converging from four different directions.

Still engaged in reading, a little before noon, she had just picked up her mug to take a sip of coffee when the crewman manning the communications station buzzed her com unit.

"Captain," the crewman said when she lifted the cover of her com unit, "I'm picking up a distress call by a freighter under attack".

"Verify that it's being recorded and pipe it through to my console."

"Aye, Captain."

Almost immediately, an excited voice began to emanate from the speaker on her com unit. "…repeat, this is the freighter Jouraklihest. We're under attack by Raiders. We need help from any GSC ship in or near sector 8667-3855-1653.5682 post-median 0071. Please respond. Two of our escort ships have already been destroyed. We're on a mercy mission, carrying vital food and medicine for the colonists on Obotymot. They won't survive without these supplies. Please, we urgently need assistance!"

Jumping up from her desk, Jenetta hurried to the door still holding her coffee mug. Before the doors opened, she reminded herself that she must appear unruffled before the crew. Composing herself, she stopped and took a deep breath.

"Red alert," Jenetta ordered as she stepped calmly out onto the bridge. "It seems the Raiders are at it again." Turning to the astrogator, she asked, "How far are we from sub-sector 1653.5682 post-median 0071?"

Before the astrogator could respond, the red alert lights throughout the ship began pulsing and the sound of wailing alarms emanated from the corridors.

"About forty-billion kilometers, Captain."

"Do you know anything about this— Obotymot?"

"I know that it's an Earth-class planet. I heard that it was hit by a meteor about two years ago, and dirt in the upper atmosphere has partially blocked out their sun. Most of the existing vegetation has withered and disappeared, new crops fail, and most of the domestic animals and wildlife have died or been slaughtered for food. A massive first supply effort several months ago was intercepted by Raiders and never reached the colonists. I imagine that things are pretty desperate there by now."

The corridor door slid open, temporarily flooding the bridge with mournful yowls as Gloria, still buttoning her tunic, rushed nervously onto the bridge. Jenetta's cool composure immediately reassured her that everything was under control.

"What is it, Captain, Raiders?" Gloria asked. "How close are they?"

The door opened again before Jenetta could answer, and Charley, followed by Dr. Erikson, hurried to where Jenetta was standing with Gloria.

"The Raiders are less than fifteen minutes away, at our top speed of Light-150," Jenetta said, "but we don't seem to be the focus of their attention. Presumably, they're attacking a freighter named the Jouraklihest that's carrying food and medicine for desperate colonists on a planet called Obotymot."

"Presumably?" Gloria questioned.

"We have to face the possibility that this might be a trap. The Raiders know that they've lost track of us and may be trying to get us back into their gun sights while we're still in the area."

"The situation on Obotymot is real, Captain," Charley said, "and I know that the Jouraklihest is a real freighter. It's of Nordakian registry and Obotymot is a Nordakian colony. I can't know if the freighter is really in trouble, but we're not far from the shipping lanes that they'd use for sending a convoy to the planet."

"Nordakian?" Jenetta echoed. She was unfamiliar with any race by that name.

"Yes, we only made official first contact with them about ten years ago. They've had space travel capability for centuries, but not FTL. It seems their priests have done everything possible to keep the planet isolated, even to forbidding planetary communication transmissions that might be picked up by extra-world travelers. Anyway, some enterprising spaceship captain stumbled across their out of the way planet some twenty-five years ago, and in exchange for a king's ransom of precious metals and gems, he gave them the secrets of DATFA technology. When they were discovered by an official GA survey vessel, they had already developed a small fleet of interstellar freighters, and colonized Obotymot for agricultural development. Encounters with Raiders had forced them to begin developing warships for home system protection. They're members of the Galactic Alliance now, so Space Command has an obligation to defend them."

"But we're not Space Command, Charley. This is a private freighter engaged in commercial enterprise. I can't ask this crew to risk their lives fighting someone else's battle."

"This is
our
battle as well," Rebecca said. "They're fellow freight haulers, Captain, and they're in trouble. We can't leave them to the mercies of the Raiders; not when we can help. I'm sure the entire crew would want to do this, and— we don't have time for a vote."

"Yes, Captain," Gloria said, "we have to assist them. We can't just run away. Only by sticking together will we ever have a hope of defeating these pirates."

As they'd talked, the bridge had filled with personnel trying to ascertain the reason for the red alert. Jenetta surveyed their faces and was stunned by the resolve she saw in their eyes. They obviously agreed with the bellicose attitude being exhibited by their officers. But fighting to defend yourself was one thing; voluntarily entering a battle zone to fight an offensive action for someone else was quite another.

Having accepted command, Jenetta was now legally, morally, and ethically responsible for the safety of the ship and the lives of the crew. She was torn between that obligation and her Space Command duty to help anyone in peril. More than anything else, she feared seeing someone under her command permanently injured, or possibly even killed. She was again filled with thoughts of how this was not a decision that a young ensign, essentially fresh from the Academy, should ever have to make. She wished desperately for the counsel of a senior officer with decades of experience, but there was none with whom she could consult, and each second's delay might mean that additional Nordakian lives were being lost.

Chapter Twelve

~ July 16
^th
, 2267 ~

Jenetta sighed silently at the looks of grim determination on the faces of her officers, then said almost abjectly, "Well— maybe we can confuse things a bit and buy some time for the Nordakians to get their ships back to FTL while we make our own getaway."

A number of heads began to nod in vigorous agreement.

"Okay, let's get rigged for action," Jenetta said loudly. "Turn off the red alert horns and lights. Helm, take us to 1653.5682 post-median 0071 at maximum speed. Security, get us a directional fix on their position and feed it to astrogation…"

Gunny Rondell, now standing at the security console, interrupted with, "We've got a clear emergency squawk on the AutoTect grid, Captain. Should I feed that to the astrogator?"

"She's squawking her position?"

The crewman who had been manning the security station when the distress call came in, said, "It just started a couple of minutes ago, Captain. About the same time that we received the distress call."

The freighter had nothing to lose once the Raiders attacked, and Jenetta realized she'd want to have her position clearly established in case help was near.

"Okay, Gunny, send the data to astrogation. Astrogator, plot the most direct course and feed it to the helm. Charley, prepare us for separation from the cargo section. Get all personnel into the main ship, and button us up. We'll separate from our cargo at four-point-five billion kilometers from the target to make our DeTect reflection as small as possible when we come into their range. Gloria, make sure that all torpedo tubes are loaded and ready, and that all safeties have been removed. Okay, let's do this."

Gloria and Charley acknowledged with an "Aye, Captain," and sprang into action. In accord with Jenetta's standing orders since becoming captain, the cargo section evacuation should have begun as soon as the red alert was sounded, but Charley ran from the bridge to ensure, personally, that everyone was out. Only three names would still appear on the monitor once the cargo section was emptied. The names of Captain Lentz and crewmen Deitrich and Higgiby, lost during the initial Raider attack, had been left up for the present, as a sort of memorial.

Gloria, meanwhile, hurried down to the torpedo rooms to visually check the systems and remove the safeties. The two bridge gunners sat down at their consoles to prepare their stations as Gunny Rondell officially relieved the crewman at the security station. Jenetta calmly walked to the com station and made a ship-wide announcement that all gunners should prepare for action. They should have immediately gone to their stations when the red alert sounded, so the announcement was as much for the rest of the crew as it was for them. With the preparations complete, Jenetta climbed into her command chair, then stared at the front viewscreen as if in a mild trance while she formulated her battle plan.

Within three minutes, Charley confirmed that the cargo section was clear of personnel and was ready to separate. Jenetta reiterated her order to Gunny to separate at four-point-five-billion kilometers from the estimated battle location. She then instructed the helmsman to reduce speed to Light-2 at twelve million kilometers, so as to allow twenty seconds in which to size up the situation while they traveled the final distance.

Gloria, her face slightly flushed from physical exertion, returned from her task of readying the ship's weapons and crossed the bridge to stand by the left arm of Jenetta's command chair. "What's the plan, Captain?" she asked. Though an anxious look swathed her face, there was un-mistakable resoluteness in her voice.

Jenetta breathed in deeply and then released it before answering in a voice lowered so that it only carried to her XO. "We're going to have to slash and burn," she replied.

"Slash and burn?" Gloria questioned, equally sotto voce.

"We don't yet know what we're facing, so we can't prepare anything tactically sophisticated. We certainly won't be able to arrange for a convenient artificial mountain as cover this time, and it's a given that whatever Raider ships we're about to face are considerably better armed than we are. So— surprise will perforce serve as our main weapon. I intend to slash our way in with as much speed as practicable, dump our envelope, and then burn down any enemy ships that we encounter before they can do the same to us."

"That's it?" Gloria asked, wide-eyed. "That's your whole plan? Shoot them before they shoot us?"

"That's a time-honored military objective," Jenetta said, with a hint of a smile. Then more soberly, she added, "As I said, we can't prepare anything tactically sophisticated. Our options are too limited. We're one ship against a force of unknown numbers and strengths. We can't contact the Nordakians and query them for information about the situation because our communications would have to be in the clear. It would alert the Raider ships and we'd lose whatever element of surprise we might presently have. And we need that desperately if we're to have any chance of pulling this off." Jenetta paused to suck in another breath and release it. "If we assume that the Raider intelligence network is even half as absolute as Captain Lentz seemed to believe, then they'll know as well as we do that there are presently no Space Command vessels within a month of their ambush point. That factor
could
make them sloppy if the battle with the Nordakians is going in their favor."

"
Could?
"

Jenetta shrugged her shoulders. "I very much regret that conjecture and supposition is all I have to work with. And, of course, the possibility that this is a trap still remains. Or even that the enemy forces might be too overwhelming for us to engage."

"What do we do if they are?"

"Punt."

"Huh?"

Jenetta grinned slightly. "It's an old joke from my Academy days. When a football team is getting its butt kicked, and has its back against the end zone, punting the ball downfield changes the situation tremendously. You lose possession of the ball, but your opponent has to change his focus, strategy, and player assignments. If we recognize that we've flown into a trap, or that the odds preclude our having a chance of surviving, we'll turn tail and get out of there at full power. A calculated risk is one thing, but I won't throw away everyone's life if I believe we don't have a chance of helping and still surviving."

The final minutes seem to drag on forever. Most of the bridge crew was again experiencing dry mouths and sweaty palms. They'd had time to think about what they were flying into and a couple were beginning to have second thoughts about their decision to support this action. But they were committed now. Jenetta just sat in her command chair looking calm and supremely confident.

Gunny's face was far more calm and composed than at any time since he'd first reported to her. She'd seen the doubt in his eyes prior to and during the last operation. She'd even thought he might resist following her orders, and was pre-pared to replace him at the security station if he did. But that look was gone now, replaced with the same look of firm resolve that she'd seen in the faces of the others before she'd made her decision. And when he acknowledged her orders now, there was no hint of second-guessing or hesitation in his voice.

When Gunny announced separation from the cargo section at four-point-five-billion kilometers, everyone knew the stage was set. The eyes of all bridge personnel not otherwise engaged were on the large viewscreen at the front of the bridge as the armed freighter, sans cargo, moved towards the battle area at six-hundred-thousand kps.

They were still more than twenty-million kilometers out when Gunny announced, "The convoy seems to be dead ahead, but there's a large stationary blip some two-million kilometers closer, Captain; a thousand km off our larboard bow."

Jenetta knew that no freighter from the convoy would simply be hanging around to watch, unless it had been disabled. And if it wasn't a freighter, it might be a Raider command ship. She decided to proceed on that assumption. Since their course would take them a thousand km from the contact, its DeTect equipment wouldn't have alerted the tac officer about a possible collision. And if everyone's attention was on the battle, they might still be unaware of the Vordoth's approach. That would change as soon as they changed course and the DeTect system sounded the alarm. "Helm, continue on this course. At one-million kilometers from the new contact, dump the envelope, and accelerate with maximum sub-light power. When we achieve Sub-Light-10, turn us directly towards them. Gunny, be prepared to fire torpedoes as soon as we close to within a hundred-thousand km."

Gunny smiled. "How many, Captain?"

"At least two, but let's see exactly what we're going up against before we fire our first volley. Can you get any better information on the target?"

"Not yet, Captain."

"Inform me as soon as you do."

"Aye, Captain."

A second later Gunny said, "I have some new data on the target, Captain. It appears to be about the same tonnage as a GSC medium cruiser."

‘A medium cruiser?'

Jenetta thought nervously.
‘Good God, I hope this works!'
In a calm and confident voice she said, "Better fire all four torpedoes, Gunny. Two by two."

"Aye, Captain."

Gunny Rondell focused every bit of his attention on the targeting screen in front of him. As the envelope dissolved, oversized sub-light engines powerful enough to haul and control billions of tons of hauled cargo in sub-light were en-gaged. A slight lurch was felt as the engines kicked the Vordoth in the sides and the enormous horsepower rocketed the ship ahead in n-space. The gravitative inertial compensators kept everyone from being splattered against the rear bulkhead as the ship accelerated like it had been shot from a powerful cannon.

* * *

When the ‘unidentified contact' warning buzzer sounded at the tactical station aboard the Raider medium cruiser Mara's Marauder, the tactical officer simply reached over and reset the device without ever fully taking his eyes off the main viewscreen at the front of the bridge. A CG representation of the fighter attack on the convey was playing up on the large monitor, and the chatter between fighters was playing through the bridge speakers.

"What is it, Tac?" Captain Lester Hodges asked, turning his head towards the tactical officer.

"Just one of our fighters returning, sir. Bandit Leader Four has informed me that he's suffered serious damage and that his avionics are intermittent. Each time the system moment-arily loses his ID, it will identify him as a bogey."

The captain grimaced, and turned his attention back to the main viewscreen, along with everyone else on the bridge.

* * *

"One and three away," Gunny said, as he stabbed at the two buttons on his console. A second later he added, "Two and four away."

"Helm," Jenetta said, "veer off and head for the action; Sub-Light-10."

"First torpedoes released at roughly eight-niner-thousand kilometers," Gunny said. "Current time to target for the first pair, seven seconds."

"Gunny, are your people ready?"

"Ready and waiting, Captain."

Everyone on the Vordoth's bridge watched as the targeting sensors provided an image of the four heat trails converging on the Raider cruiser.

* * *

The tactical officer continued to watch the fighter action and ignore the ‘unidentified contact' buzzer until the imminent threat alarm also sounded. He finally tore his eyes away from the action to look at his plot screen. An icon representing the Vordoth was bearing down on the cruiser at ten-thousand kps. His hand flew first to the red alert button, and then to the console button that would produce a scan of the unexpected ship.

* * *

Surprise was almost complete. Everyone aboard the Raider ship who had access to a viewscreen was busy watching the attack on the convoy and cheering on the fighters. The senior officers knew that there were no Space Command ships in the sector and therefore no chance in hell that they would be attacked. The cruiser didn't even scan the freighter until the first torpedoes were mere seconds away from impact. Neither counter measures nor torpedoes emerged from the cruiser, and only one laser weapon gunner on the cruiser even managed to fire at the approaching missiles. In his haste, he missed.

The first two torpedoes slammed into the starboard hull of the Raider cruiser at nearly the same instant. Separated by a mere hundred-meters, one torpedo impacted almost exactly amidship, with the other just slight aft. The speed of the Vordoth, coupled with their own acceleration, had boosted their velocity to 12,026 kps by the time they impacted with the cruiser. Hardened casings, surrounding warheads packed with high-explosives, allowed the torpedoes to smash through the steel and titanium armored hull and bore deep into the ship's bowels in the fraction of a second before they denoted. They exploded with blinding light as everyone and everything in the vicinity of the warhead was instantly vaporized. The large viewscreen on the Vordoth momentarily white'd out until the sensors recovered and adjusted.

As the Raider ship bucked and twisted, balls of flame belched from the two enormous holes that suddenly appeared amidship on the larboard side. Bulkheads bent and support trusses twisted and collapsed as the force of the blasts drove through the enormous warship. Crewmembers not strapped into seats were suddenly flung like rag dolls against whatever stationary equipment or bulkheads were nearby. Many died without an inkling of what had happened.

Then the second pair of torpedoes plowed through the hardened armor of the forward hull as if it was mere aluminum. They may have been crafted in a different century, and may have been fired from an old freighter, but the retrofit dual-stage torpedoes were military grade ordnance all the way. Again, the immense warship bucked and rolled from the one-two punch of massive explosions that blew through to the other side of the ship. As oxygen and combustible material ignited, tentacles of fire raced snakelike through ship corridors. Crewmen might have burned to death, if the lack of oxygen hadn't instantly smothered the flames, along with their lives. The cruiser actually seemed to writhe, like a wounded leviathan, but it still lived.