Vigilante (41 page)

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Authors: Laura E. Reeve

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BOOK: Vigilante
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Four more Assassinator missiles arrived at their recon points and began
searching for their targets. They operated at reduced efficacy due to the intense noise
generated by the close G-type sun, which lessened their possibilities of detecting a ship
meeting the preprogrammed profile.
The
Candor Chasma
had boosted into a
different trajectory than initially plotted by Chief Serafin. Only two missiles of the original
sixteen would come within ten thousand kilometers of the
Candor
Chasma
. Those missiles would arrive at their target recon points within the next nine UT
minutes.
“They’re
people
!” cried Lieutenant Kozel.
“They’ve shoved out people in suits, who are transmitting on the emergency channel.”
Oleander heard Stavros swearing under her breath as she tried to get
every bit of data out of the sensors. “They’re all drifting on different vectors, sir. They’ve
got no propulsion. So far there’re five of them, strung about fifty kilometers apart.”
“They’ve got to be civilians from the
Pilgrimage
,” Lieutenant Colonel Aquino said.
“Delaying tactics. This explains why they aren’t jamming us; they didn’t
want us to miss these victims.” Edones’s voice was cool and objective. “They’re hoping the TD
wave, or subsequent radiation bursts, will hit us before we can take cover.”
“I’ve got voice transmission.”
Lieutenant Kozel put the channel on speaker, so everyone on the control
deck heard the transmission. The voice was adolescent, gasping, barely on the sane side of
terror.
“Please, someone . . . don’t come near us! They rigged us to
explode!”
“Chief, you’d better take this call,” Aquino said to Serafin, then
rotated his chair to look at Sergeant Albert. “Start prepping a pinnace and assign a warrant
officer to the helm. Find out how many explosive experts those commandos brought along.”
“Yes, sir.” Sergeant Albert looked doubtful.
Oleander kept an eye on her display while she listened to Serafin’s side
of the conversation with the terrified civilian. The chief was chatting quietly and normally
with her implant mike, sounding as if she were preparing to bake cookies.
“What’s your name, hon? Samuel . . . that’s okay, it happens to all of
us. Samuel, I need you to repeat what those bast—those men told you. . . . Well, a
one-hundred-kilometer range is unlikely for a proximity fuse. Samuel? Don’t panic. I need you
to breathe slowly. That’s good. Now I want you to describe what they hooked on your tanks. . .
.”
“Sir, the Minoans say they can only offer limited assistance. They can’t
disarm the devices because they’re
similar to the mines
,”
Lieutenant Kozel relayed.
“For once, their comments are helpful,” Aquino said.
“Perhaps we should send Knossos-ship on to the
Pilgrimage
,” Edones said.
“Let the Minoans board however they want? Exact their own punishment—let
them decide who lives and who dies? We don’t know what collateral damage might result.”
Lieutenant Colonel Aquino sounded appalled.
“It’s not going to matter if the weapon detonates.” Edones spoke calmly,
but he made no move to call Knossos-ship.
If the weapon detonates
. . . Oleander
shivered.
“Sir, the
Rhapsody
is prepped. Master
Sergeant Pike is sending two explosive technicians, plus two ‘fast learners,’ as he called
them. They can be ready and released in three minutes,” Albert said.
“I can help.”
At the sound of this voice, everyone looked over toward damage
assessment. Major Phillips, their Terran Space Forces coordinator, was standing beside Senior
Master Sergeant Albert.
“Uh, I don’t think we can afford to lose our only Terran liaison
officer. Right, Colonel Edones?” Albert had that familiar stricken look on his face that
noncoms got when faced with a useless senior officer who intended to make a muddle of his
operation.
Before Edones could answer, Phillips said, “There’s nothing more to
coordinate with the
Percival
. I’ve got medical training, which
might be needed.”
“Yes, but—”
“I was a Battlefield Medic and I’m
prior
enlisted
.” Phillips said the magic words.
“In that case, sir, how soon can you get to the
Rhapsody
?” Albert said, looking toward the mission commander’s chair. Edones
nodded curtly, and Phillips left for the pinnace deck.
“I think we’re dealing with the same fuses we saw on the mines,” Chief
Serafin said. “I doubt they’d have anything better; this is their last gasp at holding us
off.”
“Give the
Rhapsody
all the information
you’ve got, Chief,” Aquino said.
“Hey, Oleander.” Captain Janda had swiveled about to face her. His face
was hollow and ghastly. Lucky for him, the second-shift pilot seat was relieving him soon. He
rubbed his smooth head absently. “How’s it going with the missiles?”
“The projections don’t look good. By my calculations, six of these
missiles arrived on target and had nothing to aim at. Most of the others will miss, except for
two that might get a chance.”
“They might change their vector. We could get lucky.”
“I suppose so, sir.” She continued to monitor her station.
“Sir, the Minoan ship relays that they’re moving on to the
Pilgrimage
,” Lieutenant Kozel said.
“Ask them to wait,” Aquino said. “Sensors, can you track them?”
“Sir, I’m barely holding on to their one sharp edge as it is,” Captain
Stavros said. “They’ll get to the
Pilgrimage
before us.”
CHAPTER 23
The Terran Expansion League (TerraXL) and the Consortium of Autonomous
Worlds (CAW), hereinafter referred to as the Parties, conscious that testing of
temporal-distortion weapons degrades the fabric of the universe, have agreed upon the
articles written in this Treaty. . . .
 

Preamble to Temporal-Distortion (TD) Testing
Treaty
,
First Treaty Signed under Pax Minoica
,
2092.005.12.00 UT, indexed by
Heraclitus 5
under Conflict
Imperative
 
 
A
riane put the license crystal into her front
pocket on her hip. With her hands still tied, she felt around Julian’s vest for his
knife.
She cut the quick-tie around her wrists, causing instant pain. Her
fingertips felt numb as she entered and started a small boost to change their course and chase
the weapon. That wasn’t tough, since the package was inside a big aluminum can and was behaving
like any other space junk jettisoned off a speeding ship near the sun. She couldn’t grab it
back; Tahir’s primitive mounting system had blown its struts as part of the release procedure.
If this ship was upgraded with external booms or manipulators, she didn’t have time to find the
interfaces.
“Six minutes, thirty seconds remaining,” announced the
Candor Chasma
’s ship timer.
There was only one fast option: an N-space drop, made without getting a
buoy lock—meaning there’d be no coming back to real-space. She floated around Julian, avoiding
globs of vomit, and started the initialization, knowing it would hold on “Install license
crystal. . . .”
She felt the forces change from the boost and she gripped the handhold
tighter. The vomit and flechettes started drifting down to the floor. Emery and Tahir were
sliding down the walls. Julian stayed, webbed into his chair.
Swinging through three handholds, she was out the main hatch. She dove
forcibly down the vertical, catching herself at the bottom. The referential engine was always
at the most forward part of the ship, usually under the control deck. She was familiar with the
TM-8440 and found the license crystal slot quickly.
Back up to the control deck, she glanced at the three men. None were
coming round. Good. She needed to concentrate. The initialization had finished and the engine
was tuned well—not surprising, because the pilot had been running diagnostics two days
ago.
“Five minutes remaining.”
First, she calculated and programmed the drop time, ensuring it happened
when the ship overtook the weapon. The time window was tight, barely covering the detonation
point. She had to force the engine to accept the plan because they were too far from the buoy
to get a lock.
We don’t need a lock to drop out of real-space, only to get
back
safely
from N-space.
Lucky for her, the isolationists
had disabled the N-space safety protocols with the others they had to inhibit.
Second, she messed with the recently tuned engine, making it
inefficient. This was a bit tricky and she thanked Gaia that she understood the physics behind
referential engines, Penrose Folds, and Fold boundaries. If she managed to get off this ship in
time and outside the Fold boundary, she could get extra push from the badly tuned engine and
its waste of energy.
“Four minutes remaining.”
Almost done
. Before she turned away from the
console, she brought up the full tactical display that Julian didn’t want to bother watching.
Everything within a half light-hour was displayed. There was
Aether’s
Touch
, fifty kilometers behind and slowly closing. She wished she could use comm to warn
Joyce of her plan, but he wouldn’t have Abram’s authorized frequencies and she didn’t have time
to roam the comm spectrum. Besides, there would be severe interference this close to the sun.
She could only hope that Joyce was paying attention.
“Three minutes, thirty seconds remaining.”
She saw two blips streaking toward a point on the ship’s trajectory,
which didn’t surprise her. She had expected Colonel Edones would authorize Assassinator
missiles.
Good old Owen—at least he tried
. Unfortunately for her
plan, if the
Candor Chasma
was damaged, the N-space drop might
fail. One missile trace would intercept them, at the point when the ship caught up to the
weapon, but before the Penrose Fold was established for the N-space drop. The missile would
have to lock on to the
Candor Chasma
and it would suffer the same
problem as the comm: the electromagnetic noise, this close to the sun.
“Three minutes remaining.”
She pushed to the weapons console and frantically searched the different
displays. She found the right display, with a command to release chaff. When she tapped it, the
display responded as if there were a load of expanding foil specks and gas going out the tube.
She could only pray that this, coupled with the interference from the sun, would confuse the
missile.
“Two minutes, thirty seconds remaining.”
Time to go
. She looked at the three limp
bodies, knowing she should try to save someone—and she didn’t need Dokos’s tag to remind her
that it wouldn’t be Emery. She’d serve out her own justice, at least this once. She cut webbing
from the N-space seat.
With Tahir webbed to her back, she floated them both through the
corridor to the emergency evacuation modules. They were small, but some ships didn’t have
modules that separated. Finally, the oddities of the TM-8440 were working for her, rather than
against her.
“One minute, thirty seconds remaining.” How convenient. The ship’s timer
could announce inside the emergency evacuation module. She got both of them webbed in and hit
the EJECT button. They pushed free with a strong boost.
“One minute remaining.” The message had static, the EM noise affecting
even close communications with the
Candor Chasma.
“We’re going to die here. We can’t escape the effects of the quantum
glitch on the sun’s fusion.” Tahir slurred his words. Julian’s stunner must have been set on a
light charge, if he was already waking.
She freed the stunner and kept it ready, but Tahir made no move other
than to wiggle his fingers. “Emery and Julian?”
“They’ll be waking up in N-space, if my drop goes correctly.” She tapped
the panel of their emergency capsule, trying to bring up a view of the outside.
“You’re trying to dump the detonation to N-space.” His eyes widened.
“There’ll be leakage. There was always leakage on the Terran tests. That means solar flares.
G-145 will still suffer.”
“I’m betting it’ll be better than experiencing a full-fledged TD
wave.”
“Thirty seconds remaining.”
He looked tired. “And we’ll get sucked along with the ship and the
weapon into N-space. My way, we would have lived—in real-space.”
The
Candor Chasma
was still transmitting the
countdown, which had gone below fifteen seconds. There was so much static that they couldn’t
understand the numbers, so she turned the volume down.

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