Death Ship Quest Page 8

  “All right,” Kas said, “The Glory hates to spend any money that doesn’t go for building churches or taking over planets, so that corvette probably hasn’t been modified. Corvettes are lightly armed and lightly shielded; their primary defense is their speed and maneuverability. The corvette's main armament is her retractable missile rack. She also carries two medium-sized laser turrets mounted amidships, but they’re not particularly accurate. They're controlled from the bridge.

  “We’re not going to give her time to use her speed or maneuvering. Rom, boost directly toward her at max G. As soon as we’re in detection range use the attitude thrusters to slew us around, and try to give Gran at least twenty degrees of leeway in bringing the lasers to bear.

  “Gran,” He continued, “You’re only going to get one, possibly two shots with each laser before the Glory can respond. One laser is to be aimed at her missile rack. The rack is deployed; that pompous windbag wouldn’t be making those threats if it weren’t. The other is to be aimed at his bridge. Rom, does he have his shields up?”

  Rom glanced at his sensor readings. “No, sir.” Kas could feel the surge of the drive through his feet. Toj was on the job.

  Kas smiled grimly. “I didn’t think he would. He’s only facing a tramp trader after all. And those Glory fanatics consider shields cowardly.” He turned back to Gran. “The idea is to get off as many shots as possible before he can get his shields up. But concentrate on that missile rack! We may get lucky and detonate a missile in the rack; but at worst we should damage the rack enough to prevent him retracting and reloading it.”

  “Sir,” Gran put in hesitantly, “Those lasers we have are pretty heavy weapons; certainly much heavier than his. We may be able to hit him pretty hard with our first shots.”

  Kas nodded. “I hope so. This fat old bitch is no warship; I doubt she could dodge several missiles.”

  Gran smiled. “No, sir. But I was thoroughly briefed on our weapons system. We do have those quick-firers and a chaff launcher. I think I can take care of at least one or two missiles.”

  Kas was unimpressed. “Really. Well, don’t forget; we have to turn our belly to the enemy to use our lasers. And the quickfirers have a very limited field of fire. We have to maneuver the ship bow-on to use them.” He shrugged. “Our shields are beefed up and may be able to stop one or two missiles, if they’re not too big. But don’t get your hopes up.”

  He turned back to Rom. “As soon as you detect a missile launch or laser blast, hit the attitude jets to bring us back to bow-on. We’ll need to be the smallest target this fat old tub can be, and bring our quickfirers to bear.” Rom nodded. “Now, how long before we’re in detector range?”

  “Just over three minutes, sir,” Rom replied crisply.

  “Missile launch!” Gran cried. “Bandit has fired on the tramp! Another!” seconds later he added, “One missile impacted her drive coils, sir. She’s lost all acceleration. The other missile was a near-miss on her sensor array.” He snorted. “Lousy shooting for close range and an unarmed opponent.”

  “All right,” Kas said. “How much speed can we gain, Rom?” he asked.

  Rom shrugged. “I estimate that given our original velocity relative to the target, and adding in max boost for 3.12 minutes, we should approach at just over a hundred thousand meters per second, relative.”

  Kas’ eyes widened. “Really? Excellent! That’ll cut down on the time available for him to react. How long until detection?”

  Rom hesitated. “With the additional acceleration, 1.35 minutes. We’ll be in optimum weapons range in 1.6 minutes. He should have less than half a minute to react and deploy weapons.”

  “Good. As soon as we’re in detection range adjust our attitude to bring our lasers to bear; say, uh, thirty degrees from straight ahead. Will that do it, Gran?”

  Gran nodded. “Should do, sir. That’ll give me about twenty degrees of swing. Uh, sir, I could open fire before we reach the high-confidence point.” He shrugged. “We might hit something useful.”

  Kas shook his head. “No. I want to keep him wondering until we reach high confidence. If we go in with lasers firing his first impulse will be to raise his shields. If we’re just a blip he might not raise them until you’ve had your best shots.”

  Gran nodded. "Aye, sir."

  The seconds ticked away, though each seemed minutes long. They were a seasoned fleet crew, but the silence was oppressive with tension.

  Kas fought the temptation to ask Rom how much longer just as Rom shouted, “Detection! They can see us now! Adjusting attitude to bring weapons to bear! Raising shields!”

  There was a sudden flurry of movement on the bridge. The image of the corvette slid to one side of the viewscreen, though it continued to grow larger at an impressive rate.

  “We’re being hailed, sir,” Gran said calmly. “Should I answer?”

  Kas shook his head. “Keep your mind on your weapons. Let ‘em keep guessing. Maybe it’ll distract him from raising his shields. What’s the time to high confidence?”

  “Twenty seconds, sir. Ten seconds. Firing in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. . . Firing! Firing! Firing!”

  If Kas hadn’t been expecting it the results would have been disappointing for the first seconds. Since there are no atmospheric particles in space to render a laser beam visible, the only indication that Gran had fired was an infinitesimal white dot that flared on the corvette’s missile rack, and another that slashed across the bridge and then disappeared, so quickly as to barely be seen. The dots faded, then bloomed again. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash as a missile detonated in its rack, followed by an even greater actinic flash, and a circular fireball that dissipated immediately.

  Kas blinked rapidly, and when his vision cleared the corvette was gone, replaced by an expanding cloud of debris. “Rom!” he shouted, “bring us bow on to the debris cloud, and pray that our shields deflect that junk! Once we pass through the debris cloud cancel all acceleration and bring us back around. I hope that crew’s all right.” That hope was sincere. More than a hundred and fifty people had just died in that single flash, and Kas’ satisfaction with his victory was tempered by that realization. To Kas, the only possible justification for that loss of life would be the survival of the tramp’s crew. The mere fact that they’d avoided endangering their mission was cold comfort.

  The shields held, and none of the debris that until seconds ago had been a state-of-the-art warship got through.

  Chapter 5

  Finally, Kas could turn his attention to the tramp. It would take thousands of kilometers for Starhopper to slow and vector back toward the other ship and more than an hour before they could come alongside.

  Kas sighed. “Well. Does anyone have any suggestions concerning what we do about the tramp and her crew?”

  Rom scowled. “Strictly speaking, we should finish what the Glories started. Otherwise, our cover is blown completely.”

  Kas nodded. “That’s what I mean. They have to know we’re armed and that we destroyed that corvette. I doubt they’ll believe it just happened to blow up at the moment we came barreling in on it.”

  Gran was looking as unhappy as Kas felt. “Uh, they might not have seen anything, sir. Remember, that second missile was aimed at their sensor array; and it was fired before we were in detection range.”

  “But it was a miss,” Tera put in. “We don’t know if it took out all their sensors.”

  Kas sighed again. “All right, I see three alternatives. But I’m not sure we can live with two of them.” He raised a finger. “First, we can finish what the Glories started and destroy the ship.” He held up a hand to forestall the angry replies. “I’m sure that’s what Imperial Intelligence would tell us to do.”

  He held up another finger. “Second, we can just leave them here and boost out. Chances are they haven’t seen us and are sitting over there wondering when the Glories are coming. Of course, their drive coils are destroyed, so unless someone else happened by they
’d just drift here forever. With their sensor array damaged, they may not even be able to get an SOS beacon working. But,” he continued, "We don't know what sensors they have that are still functional. They may have seen everything."

  He raised a third finger. “Finally, we can say to hell with Imperial Intelligence and follow our natural inclinations to rescue them.” Again he raised a hand to forestall interruptions. “Unfortunately, that one leads to complications. If we just pick them up and drop them at our next recal stop several things will happen, all bad. First, the authorities are going to want details about this Glory ‘pirate’ – and they’re going to want to ask us some hard questions.”

  “Second, that tramp skipper is going to mention that the Glories talked about a battle cruiser. We do not want planetary authorities thinking about us and battle cruisers at the same time.

  “Finally, even if they did let us leave, it wouldn’t be for days or weeks. If they figured out who we were, we might never leave.”

  “There might be another option.” The quiet voice belonged to Tera. All heads turned toward the Astrogator.

  “We won’t be grounding again until we’re on the way back,” she continued. “We could bring them aboard and pop them into cold storage until we get to the Rekesh.”

  Gran shook his head. “I wish we could, Tera,” he replied. “But we don’t have any empty cold sleep units. We’d have to revive other crew.”

  Kas was also shaking his head. “And we don’t have cover documents for anyone but us,” he continued.

  Tera shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ll bet that the people on that ship have all the identification they’ll need.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Kas admitted. “We could rescue those people, pop them into cold storage, and the people we revive could use their ID’s and the tramp’s ship’s papers.”

  Gran breathed a sigh of relief. “It sounds better to me than turning the lasers on them, sir. I’m not sure I could do it.”

  Kas shook his head. “Me, either. All right, we bring them aboard. Once they’re aboard we’ll try to remember people in cold sleep that might fit their identification.” He tossed Rom a key. “Rom, get a hand weapon out of the weapons locker. They may not be exactly willing to climb into those cabinets.”

  As they approached the tramp it was obvious that she was in serious trouble. As expected, her drive coils had been rendered unusable by the Glory’s missile. The near-miss on her sensor array had even more serious consequences. It appeared that all of the tramp’s sensors and antennas had indeed been destroyed, but more important, a deep gash in the hull was leaking a white cloud of air and water vapor.

  As Rom maneuvered Starhopper alongside the tramp, he asked, “Should I grapple her airlock-to-airlock?”

  Kas shook his head. “If all their sensors are out, I wouldn’t put it past them to short their fusactor and blow their own ship, if they thought they could take that Glory with them. No,” he continued, “stand off a bit. Edro, you’re our comm expert. D’you think you can work out a way to talk to them?”

  Edro flushed, but he nodded. He ducked through the bridge hatch and headed for the airlock to suit up.

  They watched as the little man jumped expertly across the ten-meter gap between the ships, and landed gracefully a meter from the ruined antenna array. He knelt and fumbled at his suit for a moment, then devoted several minutes’ attention to the stub of one of the ruined antennas.

  “Uhhh, Captain,” finally came from Kas’ com in Edro’s self-conscious mutter, “I’ve got comm with them. Think you’d better talk to ‘em.”

  Kas grinned, “All right, Edro,” he replied, “Connect me now. Hello, is anyone there? This is Captain Kas Preslin of the Free Trader Starhopper. The pirate is gone.”

  The voice that answered him was clearly the one he’d heard arguing with the Glory, though it was muffled. Apparently she was suited. “Well, you sure don’t sound like a Glory! Good thing you called; we had a dead man switch connected to our fusactor.”

  He chuckled. “That’s why we called first. I hate just dropping in on people-- there can so many unpleasant surprises!”

  “Well,” she replied, “now that the conventions are dealt with, who visits who?”

  Kas chuckled again. “Why not come on over here, and we’ll discuss our options.”

  “Options? Oh, well . . .” Kas could practically hear her shrug.

  Rom nudged Starhopper within two meters of the ship, whose scarred antirad bore the name Lady Jane. Within moments, two suited figures jumped across the gap. Kas and Rom were waiting as the inner lock door cycled.

  The suits, one tall, one medium, stepped through the lock. Both people reached up and released their helmet catches. The tall one was a thin, bald, middle-aged man. It was his companion, however that grabbed Kas’ attention.

  She was obviously the woman who’d been talking to the Glory; but in person she was much more striking. Even the short spacer’s cut couldn’t conceal the fullness of her auburn hair. It framed her rather angular face perfectly. Actually, he mused, it wasn’t that she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her short, pug nose and freckles made her look like a juvenile tomboy, in fact. But those full lips and sparkling blue eyes somehow riveted his attention. The grin she flashed him was all tomboy, as well. “Captain Preslin?” she inquired, “I’m Jane Grey, owner and skipper of the Lady Jane.” She hesitated as if expecting a comment, then continued, “This is Lar Tennig, my Engineer, First Mate, and Comm Officer.”

  The tall man slipped off his suit’s gauntlet and proffered a hand. “What,” Kas asked with a smile, “Not Purser?” A grin spread over the bald man’s skull-like face. “Nossir,” he replied in a pleasant baritone, “Nobody but the Lady here handles the money end!”

  They chatted inconsequentially as the two unsuited, then Kas invited them to his cabin. Rom followed.

  Unsuited, Jane Grey was some 150 centimeters tall, and massed about 50 kilos. That 50 kilos, Kas thought, was distributed in a disturbingly attractive fashion. He was trying to figure out why he found this woman so damned attractive, and he wasn’t having much luck. Her body was well-curved, without evident tendency toward fat, but it wasn’t spectacularly so. Her breasts, though full, weren’t unusually large, nor did she flaunt them. So, why was he responding so strongly to her?

  “Well,” she said once they were all seated in Kas’ cabin, “Now that we’re all comfy, would you mind telling us who the devil you are, where you came from, and what happened to that damned Glory?”

  Kas licked his lips. This was going to really strain his cover story. “Well, as I mentioned, we’re Starhopper, out of Prime, chartered to ferry colonists to a planet called Turow’s World. That’s a new colony being established by Farterra.”

  He shrugged. “As for that other ship, all I know is that our sensors detected two flashes, and when we closed to investigate, we detected two ships close aboard. We hailed, but suddenly one of the ships boosted out max.” He shook his head. “He must have thought we were someone else. When we got closer, we could see the damage to your ship, and decided to check for survivors.” He frowned. “You say that pirate was a Glory?”

  Her eyes were narrowed. “Uh huh. Look, Captain. I know you’ve saved our lives, and we’re grateful. But that Glory left us deaf, dumb and blind, not stupid. Please don’t pee on my boots and try to tell me it’s raining. Rank tabs or not, that Glory was at least a Swordtan in their Lord’s Host. Now, the Glories are a lot of things, but they’re not cowards, and they’re not stupid enough to confuse a DIN-Class with a battle cruiser!” She shook her head. “No, somehow you managed to run off or destroy that bastard. I don’t know how and I don’t really care. I’m just glad you did.”

  She sat forward, resting her elbows on Kas's desk. “While you were talking I was thinking. You’re the ship that bastard was really after, aren’t you? What are you, some kind of spy or something? And what’s this crap about a battle cruiser?”

  Kas took a deep bre
ath. “Whew! That’s some imagination you’ve got there! Would you like me to show you the three hundred fifty cold sleep cabinets in our hold?”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Please, Captain! Look, we’re wasting time. If you’re spooks, you can’t tell us anything but your cover story, even if that story becomes absurd. By the way, whoever put together your cover story was working from out-of-date information. Farterra isn’t colonizing anything. For the past three years they’ve been having money problems, and for the last eighteen months they’ve been in an economic depression. Last I heard, there were food riots on Newhome.”

  She shot him a piercing glance. “On the other hand, spooks would have either finished us off or left us to rot. That means you’re not professional agents. Military, maybe? You shouldn’t have rescued us, should you? And now, you’re having a hell of a time deciding what to do with us.”

  Kas shifted uncomfortably. In less than five minutes, this woman had completely exposed their identity and indicated that she suspected that their mission concerned a battle cruiser! She was right; he was beginning to regret rescuing them. Rom, in the corner of the room, apparently shared his concern. The needler he’d taken from the weapons locker was in his hand. Kas tried to remind himself of what was at stake – war or peace throughout known space. He tried to harden himself to signal Rom to open fire.

  But he had to explore all the options first. They were no threat in cold sleep, and by the time they were revived the mission would be over. Unfortunately, her easy penetration of Starhopper’s identity indicated that there might be other problems.

  He took another deep breath, let it out in a huge sigh. “All right. You’re too close for comfort. We’re not spooks. We’re Imperial Fleet. We’re on an undercover mission. We can’t afford to have that mission compromised. We had, of course, discussed destroying your ship or leaving you here. But we were able to come up with an alternative. We really do have three hundred fifty cold sleep cabinets in the hold. We’re going to revive two of the occupants that can use your identities, and put you into cold sleep to replace them. You won’t be harmed, and you’ll be revived and released as soon as we complete the mission.”