The Parafaith War (31 page)

Trystin magnetized the holdtights. “We have lock-on. Apply mechanical holdtights and prepare for power changeover.” He began the shutdown list, and the items and replies went back and forth over the net, silently, between him and the captain. “Accumulators…” “… discharged.” “Fusactor…” “… stand by.” “Compensators…” “… open.” Trystin nodded. “Senior Tech … power changeover.” “Changeover, ser.”

As the full grav of orbit control pressed Trystin into his couch, he realized just how tired he was. “Whew . - .”

“You’re not done yet. Lieutenant. We have to go up to ops and debrief.”

“Yes, ser.” Trystin dragged himself out of the couch. “After that, you get to go and talk to the maintenance people about the accumulators, not logistics-Keiko will handle that-but Commander Frenkel’s assistant. Lieutenant what’s-his-name.” “Isuki. But he won’t do anything.” “I know. But make sure you talk to him, and talk to his tech assistants. That’s so everyone knows that you’ve been there, and give him a hard copy of the note from the ops report.” “I don’t have-” “Make one. I’ll wait.”

Trystin sent the command over the net and wiped his face, then pulled his beret from his belt and walked back to the tech room where the printer waited for him. Behind him, James smiled.

The Sebastopol, the Willis, and the Mishima formed a rough arc-as shown by the representational screen. At the center of the arc was the blue pulsing sphere that was the revvie troid.

In front of the Coalition cruisers were nearly a dozen fast corvettes, matched by nearly as many Revenant scouts that led and protected the troid.

“I told you we’d get a chance at that troid,” pointed out James. “Are you still interested in taking it on alone?”

Trystin studied the EDI tracks on the screen, noting the bearing from the Willis and the closure rate-nearly half a light. He’d never seen anything that big move so fast-not as close as the troid was. The revvie scouts and the corvettes moved closer-only centimeters apart on the physical screen in front of Trystin-but those centimeters still represented nearly ten light-minutes. “What the mother is that?” asked Albertini as he handed the cup of tea to the captain, his eyes on the pulsing blue ball in the visual screen. .

“Is that your first troid up close?” James took the mug of green tea.

“Yes, ser. ” Albertini extended the second cup to Trystin, but the tech’s eyes were still on the screen.

Trystin took the cup, and a quick sip before setting it in the holder by his right hand.

“… the friggin’ revs … how long those corpsies been chilled?” the tech whispered.

“Now, now, they’re just on a mission for the Prophet.” James set his tea down.

“Twenty years, give or take a few,” answered Trystin. “You’d better get back and strapped in,” suggested James. “Yes, ser.”

On the screen the green-shaded points of light-the Coalition ships-moved toward the blue-shaded points of light.

The Coalition corvettes were higher-powered, with heavier shields, and somewhat less maneuverable. The revs accelerated faster and formed into a wedge, close enough that they merged on the screen, possibly close enough that their shields overlapped.

The wedge arrowed toward the forward arc of the Coalition corvettes.

Nothing happened as the ships drew closer. Then a series of green-dashed lines flickered from the Coalition formation toward the lead revvie scout.

The torpedoes intersected the arrowhead, and two points of light flashed, but the remaining revvie scouts reconfigured into two smaller wedges and split apart, sending their own torps out. A Coalition corvette went up. Concentration of firepower-that was the game. Another Coalition corvette vanished-just vanished-from the screen. So did a revvie scout. A blue-dashed torp course line flared from the right revvie arrow toward the trailing corvette on the left flank of the Coalition formation.

Trystin watched, and it appeared that the corvette never saw the torp. The ship just flashed into red, then disappeared from the screen. How could a pilot not sense a potential lock-on?

The Coalition corvettes let loose another barrage of coordinated torps, then peeled away from the oncoming revs in a circular sweep that seemed designed to bring all the corvettes back onto the left revvie wedge a few light-minutes insystem.

The right arrow of revvie scouts swept toward the cruisers. The left arrow of revvie scouts swept across where the vanished corvette had been.

Abruptly, a blue point of light appeared-behind the revvie wedge-released three torps in rapid succession, and then accelerated into a sweeping left turn.

Two more torps flew, and blue and green lights merged, before another pinlight of sun flashed across the screen.

Two revvie scouts went up in light to the torps of the destroyed but previously “vanished” corvette, and the Coalition corvettes converged on the weakened left wedge, with torp lines crisscrossing on the screen.

A single revvie scout remained, apparently left alone, as the remaining six corvettes accelerated on a stern chase after the four revvie scouts that closed on the cruisers. “Full shields,” ordered James.

Feeling the captain’s control of the torps, Trystin waited as the Willis and the revs closed on each other.

Another series of torps flared from the Coalition corvettes, and more revvie scouts vanished, leaving two revvie scouts headed toward the cruisers. “Fire one!”

Trystin felt the command through the system, rather than heard the words. “Two! Three! Four!” Four torps that quickly? Trystin watched as the torps impacted one right after the other on the shields on the lead rev-and the scout flared into dust.

Absently, Trystin realized that the remaining rev scout from the other wedge had surprised another corvette with what seemed like a suicide dash. Both scout and corvette flashed into nearly pure energy.

The remaining scout pounded toward the Sebastopol, somehow avoiding the First torp from the cruiser, and the second, and launching its own torp.

The Sebastopol’s shields flared amber, and stayed amber, but the rev went up in energy with two more torps from the remaining three corvettes..

Trystin wiped his forehead, then computed closure rates. The Willis remained three light-mins out from the rev-an enormous absolute distance, and a very short time to closure.

“Iron Mace two, this is Sledge Control. Coordinate dump follows. Coordinate dump follows.”

“Sledge Control, Mace two, standing by for coordinate dump. Standing by this time.” James nodded to Trystin.

The coordinate dump was just that-a blast of data-with detailed coordinates outlining the two target points on the troid. In too many places, even the heavy troid-killer torps would slam into the nickel-iron without much impact-or not enough to disrupt the course or mission of the troid.

Trystin reviewed the dump, then plugged the coordinates into the targeting parameters. “Target points established, ser.” “Stet, Lieutenant.”

Ghostlike images flared from the troid, more than a dozen, and then another wave of revvie scouts rose from the hidden locks of the troid, only five in all, but only the three corvettes remained in front of the cruisers.

Trystin nodded to himself, knowing that the ghostlike paraglider wings were on their way to Mara, and, with their radar-transparent silhouettes, by the time the battle around the troid was over, system control would be lucky to Find half of the paragliders, if that.

“Holding back scouts to keep us from going after the gliders,” James said quietly, then asked, “Interrogative time to launch point.”

Trystin ran the comps again, letting the figures spin through him and across the circuit to the captain.

“They’ll be here before we’re there. ” The captain paused, then added, “Weapons, stand by on torp changeover. Badboys incoming.”

“Standing by. Captain.” Liam’s voice sounded tinny on the net, the result of converting vocal vibrations to neuroelectrical pulse.

“Lieutenant, you have the con. Get us to the launch point in one piece, and take as many of them as you can along the way. Standard torps will fire at twice normal rate.”

Trystin noted that the captain neither closed his eyes nor relaxed.

“Yes, ser. I have the con. Torps will fire at twice normal rate.” Immediately, Trystin began bleeding back the power flow to the thrusters slightly, cutting acceleration levels by five percent. He checked the accumulators again, but the hiccuping, while reduced, still occurred. Why could the -Willis fire torps at twice the standard rate? That could wait for later.

Trystin triggered the restraints warning. “All personnel take restraints. All personnel take restraints.” “Shit…”

It might have been Albertini’s voice, but Trystin ignored it, and dropped the shields to half-power while lifting the Willis above the past battle plane. He boosted the power flow to the accumulators, until they registered at a hundred percent, then slowly eased up acceleration.

Two of the revvie scouts veered from their centerline toward the Willis. Trystin kept the cruiser lifting for another minute, then dropped the nose back to a direct vector toward the troid, although it would take a while to overcome the rising vector-which was fine. He didn’t have to worry-about drag-not that much in space. Trystin kept studying the revvie scouts, watching …’

With the first flicker in their EDI envelope, he acted. “Full restraints!” “Shit…”

Even before Albertini had finished swearing, Trystin had poured all the stored accumulator power into the thrusters and dumped the nose even more, hoping his calculations were correct. Scouts didn’t have beefed-up thrusters and accumulators. He also dumped the artificial grav and poured that power into acceleration.

The acceleration pushed him into the couch, and he let it, watching as the torps flared toward the Willis. “Fire one!” “Fire two!”

He paused, checking the incoming lines. “Fire three!”

Out of time, he dropped off enough power to bounce up full shields, and the “gravity” in the cabin slumped to a shade over normal, but it was pure acceleration effect.

“Shields! Desensitize!” he announced after the fact, as the Willis powered toward the troid, and as Trystin calculated the wave fronts, then lifted desensitivity, ready to reimpose it.

There were no torps. There were also no revvie scouts near the Willis, although one scout seemed to be fleeing the Mishima, and the two others did not register on the screens.

“Approaching launch point in one minute ship time,” Trystin announced.

“Stet. Time for the big ones.” The captain pulsed back to Liam. “Put the regular torps on standby and drop in the reds.”

“Loading red one and two at this time. Captain. Three and four standing by.”

The red torps-the troid busters-required both the action of the weapons officer and the pilot in command, unlike ship-to-ship torps. The weapons officers also underwent rather intensive screening, Trystin understood. After the experiences following the Die-off, the Coalition had a fetish about nuclear and nucleonic antimatter weapons.

“Let me know when they’re ready. Weapons.” “Stet, ser.”

On the screen, the Willis moved closer to the large pulsing blip that was the revvie troid. “Point five,” Trystin announced. “I have the con. Lieutenant.” “You have it, ser.”

“Red one is ready.” Liam’s voice was tinny and calm. “Ignite red one,” ordered James. “Red one is go,” responded Liam. “Red two!” “Red two is go.”

Trystin swallowed and waited for the reload, which took longer with the reds.

James appeared calm, then pulsed the command. “Red three!” “Red three is go?” “Red four!” “Red four is go.” “Changeover to standard torps.” “Changing over this time.” “Shields!”

“Shield in place. Captain,” Trystin responded. “Desensitize.” “Desensitized.”

Trystin could feel the pressure as James turned the Willis until she accelerated away from the troid, to eliminate the possibility of a collision with large objects resulting from the fragmentation of the troid, since the ship was traveling faster than the troid. Still, the path taken by the troid would have to be monitored, since flying through the planned troid course line would be dangerous for the next few days. After that, it wouldn’t matter.

Trystin glanced around. With the screens dead, and all external contacts cut, the cockpit felt more like a coffin, except for the gentle hissing of the recycling system and the holo displays of the internal status of the Willis. He wiped his forehead, and his eyes flicked toward the blank red-tinged boxes where the rest of the visual screen displays should be, then triggered the implant simulation through the representational screen, which showed the dotted course line of the huge torpedoes as they closed on the revvie asteroid ship.

At the moment of projected impact, nothing happened, except the dotted line on the display vanished. Trystin waited for the Willis to shiver … for something … but nothing occurred.

“Calculate,” he direct-fed, asking the mainframe for wave-front clearance. •

“Wave front has passed, assuming all input parameters are accurate.” The words scripted across his mental screen, “Let’s wait a moment,” suggested the captain. Trystin couldn’t argue with that. Wave fronts didn’t always follow the calculations, and who knew what else might have been in the troid?

Shortly, James nodded and ordered, “Remove desensitizing.” “Receiving input.”

The representational screen showed almost the same view as before-the outer planets, orbit control station-but only a faint luminescent haze marked the spot where nine superaccelerated torps had met the five-kay-diameter asteroid and translated a great deal of mass into nearly pure energy.

Two blue-dashed trails appeared on the screen, heading toward the Willis, nearly head-to-head. “Shit …” mumbled Trystin.

“You have the con. Lieutenant. You have eighteen torps left. Use what you need.” James’s voice was cool.

“I have the con.” Trystin calculated-two minutes to their torp range. The hell with it.

He dropped the Willis into a marginal-gee acceleration, at a slight angle to the oncoming scouts. “Shit … now what?”

Ignoring the comment from one of the techs, who probably felt as though his or her stomach were about to depart, he waited until the first flicker of the EDI, then slammed full power into the thrusters, turning the ship into