Impulse (31 page)

“I'm going to finish this, now!” I said, and ran across the control room. I slammed the glass with my elbow and it shattered to the floor, then I reached in and yanked down on the handle as hard as I could. The lights on the deck flickered out and a red flash replaced them, accompanied by a blaring alert claxon.

“Warning! Emergency decompression in thirty seconds! Warning! Emergency decompression in twenty-eight seconds! Warning . . .” the emergency voice droned on.

“Let's see if that gets their attention!” I said. Colonel Babayan looked worried.

“You're not serious!” she said. I glared at her.

“I am if they are!”

By the twenty-second mark all the fighting had stopped and the men began banging on the control room door and windows, cursing at me. I stood with my hands on my hips staring each one of them down. At the ten-second mark the cursing had turned to fearful pleading. At five seconds I slammed the lever back into place and the alarm shut off, the normal room lights coming back on. Babayan looked at me with what I fancied was admiration on her face.

“Nice work,” she said.

“We're not finished yet,” I said, nodding to the mob. “Let's go tame the apes.” I went to the door and unlocked it, stepping back out onto the hangar deck, pushing marines aside as I went.

“Form lines by home world and rank!” I barked at the marines. I let them shuffle around dejectedly for a few seconds before I took the Quantar marines to one side of the bay while Colonel Babayan gathered hers on the other side. Marker emerged from the pile and stood next to me, a rising shiner on his face.

“You were supposed to prevent this,” I whispered as he took up his station, “not get involved in it!”

“What could I do?” Marker said stiffly. “The old rivalries run deep. Plus, they insulted the queen.” I waved him off and turned to the marines.

The deck was littered with empty beer cans, garbage, food, and traces of blood from the brawl. Nearly every man in the corps had a mark of some kind on him. I walked up and down the lines, saying nothing for several minutes. Colonel Babayan did the same, but deferred to me as senior officer to mete out punishment. I couldn't decide what to do, but I knew I didn't want to look weak in front of the men, so I acted.

I went to the open space halfway between both lines of marines—no man's land.

“This, gentlemen, is a disgrace,” I said to both sides of the deck, pacing now back and forth between them. I used a quiet, direct tone of voice, then raised it with my next command.

“Each one of you are to pair off with a counterpart, one Quantar, one Carinthian, preferably the man or woman you were fighting with. I want this deck cleaned in five minutes or I'll pick five of you from each side and throw you in the brig on C rations for a week! Now move!” I shouted.

Move they did. C rations were minimal water and only oatmeal gruel to eat once a day, enough to scare any man, especially the cuisine-loving Carinthians. The deck was rapidly cleared of debris and put back together with minimal incident. One of the Carinthians even found a mop and took it to the floor. They were back into ranks in four and a half minutes.

I looked around the deck, standing between the two units, unsure what to do next. I was keenly aware that not only they but also Captain Maclintock would be judging me based on my next move. I looked over to the lounge area, hastily constructed out of bunk foam, chairs, and packing pads. It was supposed to be a common area for the men to play cards or backgammon or chess. Instead it had doubled as a beer hall.

There was a large round table in the center of the lounge, low set with closed sides. It was rather solid looking, and it gave me an idea.

“At ease, gentlemen. We're going to gather in the lounge. I want you to pair off again, one Carinthian and one Quantar marine, then sit around the table. Now!” I yelled. The marines shuffled into order and sat as instructed. Marker and Babayan gave me peculiar looks but said nothing and stood together outside the ring. I went to a wall console and shut down most of the deck lights, then parted a pair of marines with my boot as I made my way to the table. I stepped up on top and tucked in my shirt, buttoning my jacket before I addressed the crowd.

“Punishing you in any conventional way would be pointless,” I said. “I think you understand that, if you understand nothing else. Tomorrow we drop to Levant B, and from there beyond the gate, to Corant or Altos, to see what's left of the First Empire and find out if they've harmed our comrades aboard
Impulse
.” I paused to let that sink in. Very few eyes met mine.

“So you have to be ready, and I have the godforsaken job of making you ready,” I crossed my arms and stepped around the table, addressing every part of the crowd as I went. “I said any conventional punishment would be pointless. So now you will get an unconventional one. Your punishment, ladies and gentlemen, will be to listen to what I have to say.”

I looked at the faces around me. They were curious now, at least.

“There is a story in our family history, the Cochrane family history, a story of the final battle of the old war.” This seemed to raise their interest.

“Have any of you ever heard the story of MacEachern's Run?” I said. There were a handful of nods and raised hands, all of them from Quantar marines. “Good, then this will be educational for most of you.” I cleared my throat once and then started in, pacing in circles with my hands on my hips for dramatic emphasis.

“MacEachern was a Quantar Navy speedwing pilot at the Battle of Carinthia.” Now I had their full attention.

“Vat's a speed-
ving
?” asked one of the Carinthian marines in a heavy Teutonic accent.

“A speedwing is a tri-winged, single-seat fighter, the kind of ship made obsolete by coil flak cannons and ship-to-ship missiles,” I said.

“Now, MacEachern was so obscure that no one even knows what his first name was or where he came from, but we do know he was a Union pilot. His ship was damaged during the battle. He took a hit and it knocked his inertial dampers out. His flight controls and navigation were gone. He couldn't turn or maneuver. He couldn't land. He couldn't eject or go in reverse. All he could do was fly a straight line. He struggled and fought with his controls, trying with all his might to turn his fighter back into the battle.” All eyes in the room were on me now. I felt like a schoolteacher at story time.

“Eventually, MacEachern got some control of his ship and he managed to turn it back toward the battle. But when he did, he saw the truth: the Union Navy was losing. He had no chance of making it through the flak, the coil cannon fire, the Carinthian heavy fighter wings, the cannon of the frigates and the destroyers and the dreadnoughts. So he did the only thing he could do, he pointed his tiny ship toward
Imperious
, the Carinthian Navy flagship, and fired his impeller engines to full, turning himself into a missile.”

I went down to my haunches, getting closer to my audience. I had them in my grasp now.

“Now, normally using impellers on full in close combat would get you killed very fast, simply by running into something at high speed. But MacEachern shot through the first line of heavy fighters,”

“The Carinthians gave chase, but MacEachern was too fast for them to catch. Then the picket line of coil fire, crossing beams of orange and green, flared across his path. He lost his vertical stabilizer, he lost part of his wing; but he kept going. It was suicide, but then he'd known that when he fired up his engines,”

“Now, he was being picked up by
Imperious
and her defenders. Frigates moved to fire at him, and missed. Missiles came in a nonstop barrage from defensive platforms.
Imperious
herself tried to move, to escape, firing cannon and flak charges at will. But still MacEachern came on,”

“There were voices in his earpiece: shouts of encouragement, prayers of hope, and only prayer could help the Union Navy now. He sped on, frantically looking at his unused missiles, praying they would stay attached to his wings. MacEachern was a rocketing bomb, an uncontrolled missile with a man inside. But he held the stick steady and true.” I paused again, then started pacing out my circle again, but in the reverse direction.

“MacEachern looked up one last time.
Imperious
filled his vision. Through his burned-out canopy he could see the great lady trying to escape, but she was too late. MacEachern screamed his last, a war cry of rage and pain and glory and sorrow that they say echoed through the ansibles from the far reaches of the empire to the royal palace itself!”

Every eye was on me now.

“MacEachern slammed his fighter into the base of
Imperious
' conning tower. His missiles exploded, and his hydrazine fuel, what was left of it, ignited. The tower burst as the fuel from his fighter mixed with oxygen and hydrogen tanks aboard
Imperious
, and then twisted and split in half.”

“
Imperious
fell out of control, colliding with the
Emperor's Galley
,” I smacked a fist into my open palm for emphasis, “destroying them both in a blaze of white fire. Frigates and support ships by the dozens were destroyed. Their loss was a shock to the defending Carinthians. It's said the grand duke himself fled at this sight, that he left his home world for the safe haven of Corant.”

I put my hands to my hips. “We'll probably never know the truth of it. But what we do know is that the destruction of
Imperious
and the
Emperor's Galley
stunned the Royalist Navy, so much so that they scattered, allowing the Union fleet to escape to Quantar and Minara, Sorel and Pendax. Five days later the Feilberg family, negotiating for the emperor, concluded a cease-fire agreement via ansible, and the Constitution Wars were over. Neither side talked to the other for a hundred and fifty years, until a decade ago, when the Earthmen landed on Quantar and Carinthia on Reunion Day.”

I looked over the crowd. You could hear a pin drop on the deck. I sighed heavily and spoke softly.

“That can never be allowed to happen again,” I said. I put out my hand to the crowd. “Now gather 'round.” They did as instructed, placing their hands over mine or on the shoulders of their neighbors. I bowed my head and closed my eyes.

“Dear God, hear our prayer. Tomorrow these brave young men and women go into a dangerous situation, against forces unknown. Make them ready. Keep them safe. Guard these marines, and give them a spirit of unity as they fight. And deliver our comrades aboard
Impulse
back to us safe and sound,” then I opened my eyes. “Amen.”

The marines softly echoed my last word. I stepped down from the platform and broke through the circle, not looking back nor glancing at Marker or Babayan, making straight for the lifter.

Behind me, all was quiet on the hangar deck.

To L-4b

B
y 0730 Dobrina, Layton, and I were on the flight deck of one of
Starbound
's bulwark shuttles, programming in our flight path and prepping the cabin for our drop to the surface of L-4b. Marker and his marine troop of mixed Carinthian and Quantar marines arrived fifteen minutes later in full EVA suits, decked out as if they expected trouble. I was pleased that the two sides seemed to have made peace after the previous night's escapade. Colonel Babayan called at 0755 to confirm that her shuttle was ready as well.

I decided to take a stroll through the cabin before the launch. The marines themselves were impressive, in a size-is-everything-and-I-can-kill-you-with-my-dog-tags kind of way. Most of them said nothing and none of them would meet my gaze as I passed them in the personnel bay. All of them were sporting cuts, bruises, or black eyes from the previous night's festivities. I hoped their lack of acknowledgment of me was due to a sense of shame about their behavior, but I couldn't be sure. I stood in the bay, arms behind my back and watching them, saying nothing but not moving to leave until they were all strapped in like little tin soldiers in their toy box. Marker completed his lockdown and then gave me a thumbs-up. I took that as my signal to head back up to the flight deck, don my EVA suit helmet, and strap myself in.

After the final flight checks we were away at low speed, dropping out of
Starbound
's landing bay and running as silently as possible toward B and the cannon complex. Dobrina was all business as we made quick progress toward the surface. She seemed anxious to get on with the mission. I switched my com over to a private channel with Marker as we made our descent.

“Your marines are certainly impressive,” I said. Marker chuckled in response.

“After last night how could they fail to impress you?” he said. I laughed.

“I hope I made some impression on them,” I said.

“Oh, you did, sir,” replied Marker. “They probably won't follow you to the gates of hell but I think they'll provide cover while you make a run at it.” I laughed again.

“Look, Commander, we need to face some facts here,” Marker continued. “These men don't trust each other. We'll have to instill that in them. Missions like this can only help.”

“I hear you, Sergeant,” I said. “Just make sure they're ready when we need them.”

“Will do, Commander.” I cut the com line and switched to Dobrina's channel.

“Sixteen minutes to landing,” I said. “Any last-minute thoughts?”

“None that don't involve a marine brawl on my hangar deck,” she said.

“That's been handled,” I quickly replied.

“Has it?” she questioned without taking her eyes from her board. I shifted a bit in my chair.

“You have my guarantee, Commander Kierkopf,” I said.

“Good,” she replied. “I'll hold you to that.” With that, the conversation seemed over. We were clearly back to a military standing between us and I didn't want to ruffle her feathers with inquiries about where our relationship was going, even if I did have questions. I checked my vector display again. We were making good time. I switched back to Marker's channel.

“We'll be on the ground in ten minutes, Mr. Marker. Tell your men I want them deployed on the surface with a full perimeter no less than one minute after we land,” I said.

“That I can do, sir,” he said over the com, then switched channels and started sending preparation orders to his men.

Layton brought us down a good kilometer away from the nearest structures, low-lying buildings set into the surrounding land. I unbuckled and stepped down into the personnel bay. “Secure the dock and unload the cargo, Sergeant. Get your men out there!” I ordered. Marker may have been in charge of the marines, but I was in charge of Marker.

Marker started barking orders, then the back hatch flopped open and the marines bounded out as I holstered a coil pistol. I waited my turn at the back of the line. When Marker signaled me the all clear, I stepped down the ramp and out onto the surface of L-4b again.

“Reporting all clear, sir. Landing site is secure,” he informed me. I nodded and put my gloved hands to my hips.

“Deploy your men. Keep a guard here at the shuttle and the rest of us will proceed as planned. I'll stay in the back.”

“I think that's wise, sir,” said Marker, then he cut his end of the com line. With that, we started a stealth approach to the complex buildings, marines waving me forward when things were deemed safe. After several minutes of reconnoitering we arrived at the entrance building Marker and I had encountered in our previous visit.

“All set for entrance here,” I reported back to Dobrina.

“Proceed,” she replied. “Layton and I will be right behind you with the analysis equipment.”

“Acknowledged,” I replied, then gave orders to Marker for his troops to begin the search of the inner building. A minute later Colonel Babayan and her troops were at the door as well. I gave them their marching orders as Dobrina and Layton came up with two escort marines hauling their equipment.

“Marine teams engaged in reconnoiter of the unexplored levels, Commander,” I said. “We're ready to head down to the freight lifter and proceed to the control room.”

“Then let's do it,” she said.

The control room in the cavern was just as we had left it, all lights and humming power and the warm glow of the cannon. Layton directed the marines in the setup of the testing equipment, though I doubted much of anything could be gleaned from what he'd brought with him. I looked down at the control board. It was still a mystery. I racked my brain to try and access the knowledge of the Sri I had been given in my instruction, both publicly in the Academy and privately by Serosian. I looked down at the symbols on the illuminated plates, all of them either closed equilateral triangles or pieces of triangles in primary colors. In the center was a color display that looked like the historical Star of David, with sections of yellow, red, green, blue, purple, and orange on the outside and a perfectly formed triangle in the center in white, overlaid by a hexagon. It made no sense to me apart from its obvious familiarity of form.

Colonel Babayan called in to report that her troops had encountered a gangway on the sixth level that led down to the cavern floor where the cannon resided. Dobrina ordered them to explore and report. Layton finished his equipment setup and began working behind his odd-shaped tools, which were attached to what was essentially a steel rack with a portable plasma display.

“What do you hope to discover with all that?” I asked.

“We should be able to read electromagnetic pulses and fields, see if there is anything we should be aware of before we start poking around on that thing,” Layton said. He took some readings with his instruments, then frowned.

“There's nothing that I can detect with this equipment,” he said. “No stealth fields, no EM fields, no pulses, nothing. But the console is powered and ready to be activated, from what I can determine.”

“So it's not booby-trapped?” asked Dobrina.

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“So once again, we need Serosian,” I stated. Dobrina called up to the nearest marine and asked about the status of our setup of a daisy-chain communications wire so that we could talk to the Historian on
Starbound
. They reported we were ready five minutes later, but when we called up to
Starbound
Serosian still “wasn't available.” So we waited.

After half an hour of frustration I got up and went to the board, taxing my memory again on what I knew of the Sri and of encryption codes.

“Are you planning on trying that board yourself?” asked Dobrina.

“I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired of waiting,” I said. “And Layton says it's not booby-trapped.”

“As far as I can
tell
,” interjected Layton. Dobrina thought about this for a moment.

“It could simply be that the code is the security. You don't get it right, we all get fried,” she said.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I replied. She looked down at the innocuous looking control board and then nodded for me to proceed while Layton monitored from his display.

I touched the display board with no apparent effect. No displays lit up, no combination of keys seemed to give any reaction. Still the board continued to hum with power. After a couple of minutes I gave up. Seconds later Colonel Babayan called in from the cavern floor, her voice frantic.

“Are you doing something up there, Commander?” she demanded.

“Mr. Cochrane is attempting to hack the control board, why?” Dobrina replied.

“Well he's got to stop! I couldn't report in before due to a dampening field down here!”

“So what's the problem?”

“The problem, Commander, is that there's a massive atomic power plant down here, and it just became active,” Babayan said. “And if I didn't know better, I'd say it was building toward some kind of self-destruct.” We all looked at each other.

“Call up to
Starbound
,” said Dobrina to me. “Tell them we have to talk with Serosian.
Now
.”

Starbound
's Historian was on our com channel two minutes later.

“You shouldn't have tried to access the console. I have the best minds back on Earth looking at this,” he said. I could tell he was angry.

“We were tired of waiting,” I said right back.

“No matter now,” he said. “From what we're reading up here you seem to have activated the main power system, only in the wrong sequence. It's quite like the Founders really to allow full access to their secrets, just as long as you know the proper methods.”

“And if we don't?” asked Dobrina. Serosian didn't answer her.

“Captain Maclintock has ordered the marines to be evacuated, on my recommendation,” he said. “Fixing this will require a volunteer to remain behind.”

“I'll do it,” I said instantly.

“You will not,” cut in Dobrina. “At least not alone.”

“You'll both be at risk. Both shuttles will need to be withdrawn to a safe distance. Return and rescue, should we succeed in shutting the destruct sequence off, will be problematic under any circumstance,” said Serosian.

“Understood,” replied Dobrina for us both. Colonel Babayan came in and left us an extra set of oxygen canisters and power packs for our EVA suits. It wasn't much, perhaps two extra hours, but it would have to do. We made Layton go with her, and then Maclintock came on the line and ordered Dobrina out as well.

“I can't lose two of my senior officers on this, and Serosian has informed me that Mr. Cochrane is the best option to solve this crisis,” Maclintock said. Dobrina was angry and argued with him, but to no avail. Colonel Babayan had to practically drag Dobrina out, but eventually she went, steaming mad, and I was alone in the control room. I got back on the line with Serosian.

“Why didn't we detect this power plant before?” I asked.