Archaea (17 page)

“Conn, Weapons.”

“Weapons, report.” Captain Smith was immediately alert.

“Captain, Targeting has identified that Sierra 325, bearing 23 degrees, ranged 5223km at two-o'clock high, is massed at one million tons – damn near even, sir.”

“Very well, Shorty...” He waited a few heartbeats, then lit up the general quarters alarm.

*****

“Pauli, I need a material analysis of Sierra 325. Yak, please report on detected emissions.” the captain asked calmly across the bridge.

I quickly had Janis run a material analysis of the new target, while Captain Smith ran through the procedures of locking everything down for condition zebra. She reported that it was made of high-mass materials, alloys of nickel-iron-cadmium, with a very low albedo.

“Sir, a report is on your screen, high-mass materials, low albedo”, I called over.

“Captain, no detectable emissions”, Yak called back, adding “Comms and spectro are clear, and no unexpected radiation of any kind.”

“Well, unfortunately, we don't have the type of gear that can sniff out a warship.” he said, as my stomach churned.

“Gene, I need full power to the tokamak. Give me everything we can get.” Good grief. How can the man be so blasted calm? I felt like I had a big dinner of butterflies.

“Full power, aye. Coming online now.” Gene sounded like a clone of the captain, as if there was nothing to be concerned about. 

“Gene, for now, please divert everything we have to the Duron.”

“Captain, Janis is doing that currently, as I am ramping us up. Didn't you request that through her?”

“Gene, I didn't – but clearly I meant to, otherwise why would she have shunted power to shields? Sounds like a plan to me.” Captain Smith may be many things, but what he isn't, is someone who will ever find fault with anything he has done, even if he hasn't done it yet.

“Shorty, are you at a point in your hectic schedule where you might be able to give me maximum power on the main cannon?”

“Absolutely sir. Ramping up now.”

I kept my hands light on the yoke, and took a quick sip of coffee as Gene firewalled the tokamak. The rising hum, the 'titanium bees' started making  themselves heard throughout the Archaea, but none of us felt the soul-crushing phased vibrations from the main gun that just about made me reverse my coffee flow earlier. 

It's not that I want to go through that again, but all the same, if that turns out to be a destroyer on station off our starboard bow, I want more than a few turrets ready for action.

While the selflessly heroic part of me that worries about my crew, my ship, and my skin fretted and worried about what we might be looking at – the part of me that fears nothing was trying to convince the part of me that fears next to nothing, that there was nothing to be afraid of.

I am afraid it wasn't listening very well.

Luckily, the part of me I like to call the greatest starship pilot that ever lived continued to watch the countdown towards our next waypoint transit.

*****

I desperately tried to focus on my screens, to keep track of our network and software, but the tension on the bridge was palpable, like some dark cloud of fear. The worst part was there was nothing I could really do about it.

Janis was showing some substantial activity on some higher tiers, nothing to be alarmed about, not even a full 5%, but it was far more than I had seen before. I brought up an overlay that showed a min-max plot of her resource allocation and use, and she was definitely working hard at something.

“Captain, I am monitoring a pretty sizable spike right now in Janis' higher functions.” I called back across the bridge.

“Very well, Pauli. Does that mean anything significant?”

“Well... not by itself, Captain. I've tracked a few spikes this high before, but she's definitely working through something.”

“We are currently firewalled all across the board Pauli... maybe that's it?”

“It's possible Captain.”

“Yak, are we tracking a significant increase in targets or does it look like we're working on more complex firing solutions?”

“Not that I can tell from here Captain. We're still servicing a pretty solid stream of targets, but I'm afraid I really can't tell whether or not they're requiring any additional computational requirement. We're already doing the impossible, sir”, said Yak.

“Shorty, how are we holding up back there? Anything to report?”

“Negative, Captain. We're primed, sir. All systems green-to-go, ready to fire on your command.”

“Very well Shorty – by the way, great job on the harmonic. I can't hardly tell there's a supernova in the bottle.”

In my attempt to lose myself in the systems, I realized that I hadn't even noticed the gun had charged – other than a resonant hum through the decks, it was nothing like the horrible gut-wrenching oscillations we felt earlier.

*****

“Captain, please note I am now recommending a waypoint adjustment,” Janis said, much calmer than any of us felt at the time.

I am glad she did, too, because the part of me that was in control of this glorious starship had apparently gone off in search of a coffee cup, and the countdown was tight.

“All hands, stand by for maneuvers – this is a big one, folks. Grab something...”

With barely enough time left on the clock to reach the right attitude, I hauled us up a full 80 degrees, signaling a major shift in course. I had barely enough time to get lined up on our new heading when I had to mash the burn, and stomp the pedal through the floor.

I had both eyes on the clock, watching the burn tick down when the world turned white.

I knew instantly what had happened, and resisted an impulse to pull back harder on the yoke. Another waypoint mark coming up, and nothing was going to knock me out of this pipe.

“Captain, I have incoming from Sierra 325, new designation Master 8, closing at 45km/s, range 5135km!”

“Very good Yak. Do you have a count?” I said softly.

“Upwards of 300 sir, and climbing steadily. It looks like a cloud on my screen sir.” Yak's voice cracked slightly, his normally calm and reassuring manner tinged with a fluttery sort of panic that I couldn't help but feel myself.

“Steady on son... we're doing fine so far. Are solutions keeping pace?”

“Hard to say sir. I am seeing second-and third-order detonations throughout the incoming, at extreme range. Ranged point defense, sir?”

“Almost certainly Yak, or we're getting help from those sweet, innocent peace-loving rocks that we're sworn to protect with our lives for the rest of our careers.” Yak's laughter was like a nervous titter, but it was laughter, and that's what we all needed.

“Captain, revised waypoint in 15 seconds.” Janis said, as calm as if she was asking if anyone wanted more coffee. Which I did, desperately, but I had a hand on the throttle, one on the yoke, one counting my pulse rate, and one wiping the sweat off my official forehead of command.

No hands left for coffee.

The view forward through the blacked out port was absolutely unforgettable. In my entire career, I've never seen a sight like this, from the wrong end of a major engagement with a ship-of-the-line. The glowing tracery of our repeaters lit up the skies with a swirling torrent of plasma, streaking outward, upward, to the side, vaporizing targets all around us. I can't imagine the ballistics math that Janis is doing - - but I didn't have time to think about it.

“Janis, cancel next transit please – I need a new course shaped for a high angle of attack on the target's twelve-o-clock high.”

Ask, and ye shall receive. Janis spun up the numbers and dropped the count to 4 seconds, barely enough time to twist and burn –

Another searing blast, this time along the port side as we slewed around.

“Gene, those bastards are shooting at us.” I barked, looking for someone to chew on.

“Aye skipper. Are you just about done crying about it, sir? Do you need me to come up there and push any of those buttons?”

I gritted my teeth against the solid shove as we burned towards apogee over the target. Almost time to drop out of the sun, guns blazing.

*****

The last blast was close enough to cook my cheeks, and the port turret started flashing ambers. “Captain, Weapons. I am showing a significant warning on our port turret.” Above me, the high-pitched scream of failing metal played a duet with my nerves.

“Can you do anything Shorty?”

“Not from my station, sir. It's a mechanical condition of some sort. Port turret is at 73% efficiency, and I don't know how long that will last. It sounds like it's coming apart, sir.”

“Jane, we have 40 seconds until next maneuver. Can you get up there?” I almost didn't notice him call me by my name. Almost. Damn him and his brown eyes. Damn him to hell. 

“Captain, I'll try my best,” I say, unclasping the crash bars. Burning as good as we were, I was being mashed against the aft bulkhead, trying desperately to haul myself up. Above me, the terrible whining and grinding sound from the turret armature compartment was getting worse.

*****

As we screamed upward, the reac drives thundering the Archaea through a cloud of disintegrating plasma – I heard the the best possible words at the worst possible moment.

“Captain, please be advised of course revision, t-minus 10 seconds.”

“Janis, I have crew out of battle stations at the moment. Is there any flexibility in this transit?” As I said the words, I hauled over on the yoke to rotate and pull more to port.

“I understand sir. I am afraid there isn't sir. T-minus 3. 2. 1. Mark.”

I punched in a new burn.

*****

I was almost there, the last rung was in my hand, when all the sudden the world seemed to fall sideways, and my feet slipped off the rungs and flew out behind me. Summoning every last bit of strength, I wrapped an arm around the  rung in front of my eyes and grabbed my wrist with my other hand and waited for my arm to pull out of my shoulder. 

I heard my joints pop and a terrible white-hot burn started streaking through my elbow as the Archaea snap-rolled over onto her back and started to fall, flinging me up and over, and damn near into the whirling, glowing-hot armatures of the turrets.

I took a few moments to make sure all my parts and pieces were still attached, and thanked every deity I could think of for making me the size I am.

“Captain, I am in the turret compartment now, though I almost didn't make it...your last transit pretty much hurled me up here. Was that 40 seconds?”

“Outstanding Shorty, well done. Unfortunately, I couldn't give you the full
40; Janis recommended an earlier burn time.”

“Well, please thank her for me Captain. Thanks to her, the next time I beat you sparring, I won't have to do it one-handed.”

“Will do, Shorty,” he laughed, “but back to reality for a moment if you please - what are we looking at up there?”

“It looks bad, sir. Port-side armature is hot, too hot. It looks a little slagged up here, but it's still operable.”

“Is there anything you can do to fix it?”

“Without powering it down? No... not really. I'd need a few hours of peace and quiet to hammer it back into shape. I think I can keep it from falling apart, but I can't promise too much.”

Really, all I could do up here was check the fluid levels in the trans, and work through the zerks making sure there is enough lubrication. That might help keep it from welding to itself for a little while.

“Shorty, I need you back on station soonest. Do what you can and get clipped in. Next transit in 79, possibly less if that keeps us from getting roasted in our own juices. Please make all possible haste.”

“Will do, Captain.”

*****

I couldn't keep track of the targets on my screen, I was completely overwhelmed. Incoming torps were dropping like flies off my screens, just about as fast as they were launched.

Some of the targets looked like they were hitting rocks, but most were getting knocked out from our turret fire, at extreme, impossible ranges. The destroyer was slowly rolling back, trying to bring
its main guns to bear, but we were above their elevation and Janis was working hard on keeping us there.

“Captain, incoming kinetics, impact imminent!” I yelled out, watching streams of white-hot plasma reaching out to us from the point defense turrets across the top of the destroyer, solid lines of fire converging on our position.

“Very well Yak” he said calmly, then keyed the 1MC.

“All hands, secure for impact.”

Just in case any of us weren't clear on what that meant, he activated the collision alarm and a braying whoop siren blared out across the Archaea.