Penance (RN: Book 2) (22 page)

“Like a nuclear weapon?”

“More or less. And with that much fissionable material it’ll go off bigger than one of the Chinese star monster warheads. We’d better not be anywhere near when that happens as the EMP will kill us stone dead.” He nodded gravely, his countenance of certain conviction adding weight to his ultimatum.

Denz stared with keen interest at the display, nodding when he thought appropriate even though he had little concept of how a Thorium core worked. Despite the RNO’s insistence that every ship commander know at least the basics of how a ship functioned, he had always been a combat captain with little to no understanding of the deeper complexities of star ship engineering. He could instantly evaluate a military threat or advise on the placement of warship armaments, but what made them tick was largely lost on him.

“Will it be difficult to operate?”

“That’s the good part; I don’t believe so. Seeing as we don’t need to aim or monitor anything, it’s basically just flip the power switch and run like hell.”

“What sort of yield are we talking?”

“Well,” Hewton’s fingers were lost to the second knuckle as he rooted through his beard. “That drive unit has at least three hundred tonnes of super-fertile Thorium, jacketed by a hundred or so of other enrichment fissiles, which are again jacketed by six thousand tonnes of copper. I’d say any yield is easily in the gigaton range, quite possibly more.” He paused considering and then looked to Denz, “Commander. I wasn’t joking when I said we need to be gone when this thing goes off as it’ll probably buckle the local fabric and render the area unnavigable for a good few weeks.”

Denz baulked at a detonation that could damage the fabric of space-time to such a degree. He knew from secret projections on the affect of Chinese Star Dragon missiles against the RNO fleet, that a yield of 150 megatons could warp the local fabric, and render even the largest ship useless at up to 300, 000 kilometres. Whilst the ship may physically survive from ten thousand kilometres onwards, the EMP would penetrate even the most hardened of ships up to a quarter million kilometres away. The affect on any crew would be devastating, burning out the human neural network and instantly dropping every crew member as if their breakers had tripped. What a more than tenfold increase could do was too horrifying to contemplate.

“How long to charge it?”

Hewton glanced at the image as if assessing the coils capacity, “Something that big from those measly reactors - about two hours, I’d guess. But it could take an hour or it could take a week, there’s no knowing for sure. The weaker materials will start to plasma flare as the time nears, so we’ll get a good fireworks show before it goes. Which when you see it means the reaction will already be self-sustaining, so even if the power’s cut there’s nothing can be done to stop it.” He side glanced at Denz, his countenance one of a hesitant informer. “I don’t want to sound like I’m speaking ill of those not present, sir, but I did inform the LC about this a few times. I don’t think he understood.”

A wondering grin cut Denz’s face as glanced at Hewton, “To be honest, Tom, I’m not sure I fully understand. The idea of using the drive as a bomb seems highly dubious to me, too, but if you’re sure it’ll work then that’s good enough for me.”

Hewton’s demeanour reflected his conviction, “I damn sure of it, sir.”

“Then we’ll try it. If it doesn’t work we can always use the VLS to do what we can before leaving. Inform Lieutenant-commander –“

“Commander Denz to the infirmary. Commander Denz to the infirmary.” The cold male voice said over the intercom.

Denz looked about him with a
what-the-hell-is-it-
now facial expression. He pressed a button on a wall comm unit, “Acknowledged.”

“Give Malcolm the brief again, if you will Tom. Walk him through it as fast as you can as I’ve got a feeling we’ll be needing to depart quickly very soon.”

Hewton nodded, “Aye, sir.”

“Really!” Stavener cried from where he cowered in the shuddering co-pilot’s seat, his eyes screwed shut, arms and legs pulled close as white knuckled hands clutched the restraints with a mad man’s grip. That last sideways lurch must have cracked the launches tough monocoque structure, he was sure of it. And he just knew that if he strained his hearing past the reducing turbine whine of the fuel pumps, he would hear the short lived screams of people being vented from the rear compartment.

He must have told the pilot a dozen times on the short voyage over how he hated shuttles. That shuttles were only for moving between adjacent star bases with help within easy reach. That no craft this small had any right buzzing about the empty space between star systems, where even a pin prick in the finger nail thin alloy skin meant certain death. Yet, he just knew the pilot was humouring him with his attentive nods and ‘I never knew that’ facial expressions.

Believing they had connected, the operations officer was releasing the restraints when a final sideways shunt threatened to dislocate his head as they hard docked.

“Really!” Stavener cried, his eyes burning at the pilot who wore an amused grin as he clicked through switches and the shuttle powered down. “You did that on purpose.”

The pilot never responded, instead pressing the headset to his ear as he listened to a private message.
Roger
, he said in response.

“I have to stay with the boat in case we need to leave in a hurry. Can you find your way to the exit, sir?”

“Of course I ca …”Only then did Stavener notice the pilot wearing a low grin, the tip of his tongue peeking between his teeth as he gazed side long in such a mocking manner that the operations officer tore at the restraints to get off the ship.

On entering the rear cargo compartment Stavener noticed the other crew members had already left for the freighter, so he too passed through the airlock into the identical a cargo of the Brunel, which in turn had docked to the freighter’s single docking port.

The first officer stood in the main lobby, a tablet in his injured right hand as he directed the crews in an urgent orchestration of rapid fire orders and pointing fingers. Eight crew men were already nearing the end of a long access way, with the mag-lev hand truck tagging noiselessly behind the jogging men and women.

“Here, Mr Stavener!” Canthouse called on seeing him, a summoning finger accentuating the order. “This is Mr Yoshcenti. He was with me on the first trip, and will lead you to where we found the beacon.”

Before Stavener could reply, Canthouse leaned close and spoke in a guarded whisper to Yoshcenti, who’s eyes flicked to Stavener in a conspiratorial,
oh, so that’s him,
action. The slim dark skinned communications mate nodded an understanding, slung what appeared to be a collapsed baby carriage over his shoulder and indicated the operations officer should follow him as he double timed down a corridor.

Stavener followed at a lesser pace until a “Sometime today, Mr Stavener,” came from behind and he doubled his rate.

They passed down several long corridors with nothing but the occasional air tight door adorning the walls, up several metal stairways, through the recently inhabited crew quarters to what could only be the command and control deck. The rooms bore the look of an area recently vandalised and then hastily repaired, with displays askew and ad hoc control systems squeezed into holes cut into consoles.

Stavener followed Yoshcenti around the command consoles to a doorless room at the rear of the bridge, and there he saw it. In amongst the assorted electronic junk and derelict furniture was a hostess trolley, on which sat a sleek black carry-on case with several thin cables coming from the back to disappear amongst the junk.

The two men stood in silence looking the matte black device over until the grinning Yoshcenti said, “Norin.”

Stavener’s naturally paranoid nature bristled like a startled cat at that word. He glanced at Yoshcenti with unfurling suspicion as he said,. “What did you say?”

“Norin.” Yoshcenti repeated without looking away from the unity device. “The case. The material is a composite made by Norin. I’d recognise it anywhere.” His smiling gaze met Stavener’s guarded stare. “I spent my placement year with them until I got fired for hacking their servers - What?”

“Nothing,” the operations officer returned his attention to the device. “We need to track those cables to see where they go and find out if they’re for power or hardwired to the comms array.”

Yoshcenti moved to beside the case and laid a hand on the smooth carbon fibre shell.“I started to do that the last time we were here. I wanted to disconnect it and bring it back, but the LC said not to in case it was some sort of weapon.”

Stavener merely grunted at what was actually sound logic.

“I found it on the floor over by the door when we first arrived.” The comms technician gestured to the door with a nod, “I think they wanted to take it with them, but dropped it for some reason. I placed it here hoping to figure out what it was, as I initially thought it was a suitcase with information or valuables inside. It took me a little while to figure out it was some type of electronic device as it has no lights or external controls. The only obvious things are the cables connected to the rear; or front, I’m not entirely sure which way round it goes.” Yoshcenti lifted the three cables from behind the unit. “This top black cable was connected to the active beacon we brought back.” With his free hand he followed the black LAN cable, pulling the free end from amongst the electronic debris on the table. “The other two I’m not so sure of as we ran out of time before I could track them to source.” His hand lifted the two blue cables off the table to indicate they passed through a small hole cut in the bulkhead. “I think this one goes to the comms array; the other I’ve no idea as they separate in the next room.”

“Then trace them now as we have to know where they go. We’ll need the cables too.”

“What will you be doing, sir,” Yoshcenti asked with an inquisitive inclination of his head.

Stavener stepped forward to stroke the smooth black surface of the unity device. He gave Yoshcenti a low contemptuous sidelong look, “I’ll be doing what I need to do – crewman! Also,” Stavener’s forehead seemed to thicken, his low penetrating brown eyes wolf like as he turned to face the suddenly startled comms man with a face so drawn and alien that Yoshcenti would have taken a step back if he was not trapped between the wall and table. “I presume Mr Canthouse has explained the secrecy required in regards to this device, has he not?”

“He has, sir.”

“Then I reiterate it. You do not want to speak of what occurs here to anyone, anywhere for any reason, as the repercussions would be …unfortunate. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir.” The words came out so fast they were almost one syllable.

“Then jump to it.”

***

Petty officer Rachel Cummings glanced behind her to look along the unlit parabolic corridor that ran one half of the bilges. In the distance opaque halos and swiping fingers of light interspersed with the huffing remnants of condensing breath came from where the search crew continued their work, but no other people were in direct view.

“Rachel, come here,” the voice beckoned teasingly as a hand tugged at Cummings’s sleeve, inviting her to follow into even darker areas of the lower deck.

“Celia …we can’t! I’m in charge of the search team. I have to stay with them.” Cummings said in an urgent whisper. She again looked behind to check for approaching people.

“Just for a minute, I need to ask you something.” Hempsey spoke in the hushed giggling tone of the court gossiper as she continued to tug at her friend’s sleeve. “I just need to know what he said.”

Hempsey took Cummings by a wool gloved hand, urging her into an alcove out of direct sight from the other crew. “So what did he say?”

Cummings could see nothing of her friend’s slim triangular face. “I told you I never saw him, he was in the surgery talking to the doctor.”

“You should have went to see him.”

“I did.“

“And?”

“And what?”

“Rachel, you’re such a tease! Does he know who it was?”Excitement heightened Hempsey’s voice to such a pitch it was barely audible.

Cummings knew if she turned the lights on, her friend would be on tip toes, her fists balled by her chin, her eyes and mouth wide in enthralled anticipation.

“I never got to speak to him. With all the commotion around Avery and the chief engineer, and now this, I couldn’t get near him.”

Hempsey’s frustrated cry from being kept from the name of the killer was unnaturally loud in the confines of the quiet corridor, forcing Cummings to clamp a clad hand over her friend’s wide mouth to quiet her.

Hempsey snatched the mittened hand away, “Well somebody must know who bloody did it,” she said in a pouty aristocratic whine.

“Maybe, but I don’t!”

“I know.” The voice said from the dark.

Hempsey screeched with such brutal urgency that only the initial cheep was heard with the shriek ascending beyond human registry in an instant.

Cummings hand found her belt mounted lamp in the blink of an eye, and she thumbed the switch only for a large hand to clamp over the lens blocking the light almost completely. What illumination flared from between the thick fingers was sufficient to outline the thick tattooed forearm and service pistol inches from her face. She glanced at Hempsey, who appeared frozen in time with her eyes wide and lips drawn back in mid shriek, to see an unnaturally long slim arm appear from behind her, with the thin claw like fingers hooking over Hempsey’s frozen scream and pull her soundlessly into the shadows like a Vaudeville Hook.

“The captain’s bitch comes with me.” The deep voice said, with the summoning pistol indicating she should follow.

Cummings made to duck and run only for the heavy metal to find her temple and that was all.

***

Denz couldn’t bring himself to look at it; certainly not directly, with an impassionate peripheral glance at what could no longer be called a human female being the best he could manage.

A lazy mist curled from the ambiguous composite of meat and bone that sat on a curtain shrouded examination table in the ships surgery. The skinless, eyeless head sitting in odd recognisable contrast beside the mound of once human, with the skull having been chiselled open to become a vessel for consuming other body parts in some cannibalistic rite.

“Where?”

“She was found in the dormant storage areas by one of the search team. A door problem meant he was trapped with her for some time before being released, and he’s in quite a stated. I had to sedate him.” The physician nodded in the direction of one of the surgery beds, but with his attention on the contents of the stainless steel table, Denz missed the gesture.

On entering the surgery he’d refused to accept what lay before him were the remains of a promising first hand and couldn’t look at it, but now he couldn’t look away. In the course of his service he had seen dead bodies, mutilated bodies, bodies turned to red jam by cannons and explosives, cooked where they stood by lasers, had seen people tortured and torn apart to be fed to monsters, but never quite anything like this. If anything it was the deliberateness of the action. The personal debasement as if the miscreant had done everything possible to remove any human identity, tried to dehumanise in the most personal, the basest way.

Denz stared myopically and found himself biting the inside of his lower lip to stop it from trembling as he tried to consider what lay before him, but his mind couldn’t find traction. The central gear of his mind continued to turn but he found it impossible to engage his reasoning, to find a why or what for and the lack of immediate logic left him feeling less than worthless.

He raised a hand as if to scratch his top lip, but it was really to repress an outward revulsion when sap from the warming remains began to seep across the table, with the coppery-rusty smell triggering some inner nausea. He covered his nostrils with a crooked finger to breathe through his mouth and now he could taste it. Taste something that had once been a capable young woman who went about her duties attentively, who had family waiting for her, who would have ascended the ladder and perhaps done great things.

Denz noticed himself repeatedly separating his lips with his tongue and stopped it, only to realise it was the thing preventing him from vomiting at the grizzly sight. He hoped he didn’t look as squeamish as he felt and decided to leave before he became a spectacle before the infirmary staff.

Separating the curtains, Denz left the cubicle with the surgeon pulling them closed as he followed.

“What now, doctor? Will you perform an autopsy?”

“I’ll do what I can, sir, but apart from taking samples and toxicology the remains are beyond pathological autopsy. Besides, we don’t have the equipment aboard to perform any complex forensic analysis. All we can do is check everything’s here, but apart from what was consumed they’re still finding fragments amongst the stores and shelving. I’d like to say the explosion in engineering tossed them there except that they’ve found matter inside the refrigeration units and resealed inside storage containers.”