Her Brother's Keeper - eARC (44 page)

The tower was retracting slowly, but there was already a meter-wide gap between the bridge and the cargo bay. Marcus was hit in the back and fell, dragging Hondo and Tanaka down with him. Devree killed the shooter as Wade pulled his team leader to his feet, his vest having stopped the bullet. They dragged Hondo back to his feet and pressed on.

The landing tower continued to retract. Mazer stood up, grabbed Devree’s arm, and yanked her to her feet. “We have to go!” He turned and ran for the cargo bay.

Devree was on his heels, but stopped when she spotted a pair of militiamen setting up a tripod-mounted heavy rocket launcher by the control building. She dropped to her knee, rested the heavy sniper rifle on the scaffolding, and lined up the shot.
Lase. Range. Correct. Exhale. Squeeze.
The rifle roared again. The explosive-tipped bullet struck one of the rockets the militiamen were loading into the launcher. It detonated, and the targets disappeared in a cloud of dust and smoke.

“Damn it, girl, come
on!”
Mazer shouted. Devree looked up and realized there was now a two-meter gap between the tower and the ship, and it was widening by the second. She left the rifle where it was, stood up, and ran for it, limping as fast as her damaged prosthetic legs would allow.

“Jump for it!”

Coming to the edge, Devree jumped. She floated in space for what seemed like a long time, arms outstretched, straining to reach the Mazer on the other side. She realized in that instant just how high up she was, and that she would surely fall to her death if she missed.

She missed. Her hands fell a few centimeters short of Mazer’s, but smacked down onto the lip of the open cargo bay. Her shoulders wrenched as she dangled in space, legs kicking against the hull of the ship, so high up in the air. A second later, two pairs of hands grabbed her arms and pulled her up, into the safety of the cargo deck. She crawled clear as the bay doors began to close.

* * *

Up on the command deck, Captain Blackwood tried to watch five screens at once to stay on top of the chaos all around her ship. Marcus’ team had done it. The landing tower was retracting. The fuel and power lines to the launch pad were severed, the manipulator arm was stowed, and the ship was spooling up for liftoff. Her crew had performed phenomenally defending the ship. Kimball, Broadbent, and the Winchester girl were firing out of the cargo bay doors right up until the moment they sealed. Now all personnel were on board and accounted for, and were heading to launch stations as rapidly as possible. This was when the ship was most vulnerable, and a bead of sweat trickled down the Catherine’s face as she reclined her seat into the takeoff position.

“Captain, incoming transmission from…from Aristotle Lang!” Azevedo said.

“Send it to my screen.”

A truck rolled to a stop at the base of the ship, observed from a camera high above. Mounted in its bed was a large, multi-barreled rocket launcher, probably a 90mm bore diameter or larger. Lang appeared on the screen as his militiamen brought the weapon to bear. Catherine had no idea where he was transmitting from. “This is the end, Captain!” he announced, his voice raspy as if he’d been shouting. “You think you can double-cross me? You think you can rob me and run away? This is
my
planet, you bitch,
my planet!
Power down your ship, now, or my men will destroy it!”

“Captain, we’re ready for liftoff!”

“Colin, punch it!” Catherine said. Her pilot pushed the throttle up. The four engines roared to life, sending a cloud of dust and smoke across the spaceport, followed by the heat of the exhaust.

The rocket launcher, the militiamen, and the not-fully-retracted landing tower were all blasted by the exhaust of the ship. The ship rumbled off of the ground, vibrating as it slowly accelerated. At two thousand meters, Colin throttled up, and Catherine was mashed into her chair as the ship made for the safety of orbit. Lang’s ranting transmission faded to static as the
Andromeda
left Zanzibar behind.

* * *

Never in all her years as a spacer had Catherine been so relieved to make it into space. The brown sphere of Zanzibar was far below the ship now, and though she was still under multi-G acceleration, Catherine was at ease for the first time since this journey had begun.

Wolfram sent her a private text message.
Congratulations, Kapitänin,
he said.
You’ve done it. Mission accomplished.

Catherine smiled.
I couldn’t have done it without you,
she wrote back.
When we get back to Heinlein, I want the whole crew to take some well-deserved vacation. We’ll stay planeted for a few months this time. We’ve earned enough money on this run that we can afford it.

The ship will need a refit anyway,
Wolfram pointed out.

I know you had your doubts about this mission, Wolfram. So did I. Thank you for expressing them, and thank you for backing me up when I made my decision.

There is no need to thank me for doing my job, Kapitänin. This what an executive officer does. It is I who owes you a great deal. You know what happened to my career with the Fleet.

Catherine was well aware of it. A substance abuse problem, an addiction to stims, had cost Wolfram a promising career in the Concordiat Defense Force. It was unusual of him to talk about it.

You gave me a second chance. For that, I am forever in your debt, and you will always be my Kapitänin.

Catherine could help but smile, mashed into her acceleration chair though she was.

“Captain?” Luis Azevedo said, getting Catherine’s attention. He sounded concerned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Ma’am, I’ve got an unidentified contact bearing down on us. They just came over the planetary horizon. I’ll send it to your screen.”

A moment later, a projection of the orbital system of Zanzibar appeared on one of Catherine’s displays. It showed the
Andromeda
and her trajectory to the jump point. Coming from the other side of Zanzibar was the bogey Azevedo was talking about. Whatever it was, it was big. Its exhaust signature indicated that it was a small capital ship of some sort. Catherine’s heart dropped into her stomach.

“Captain!” Azevedo exclaimed. “Telemetry says it’s a
Conan-Delta
class cruiser. Orlov Combine fleet! It’s on an intercept course, and we’re being targeted! Incoming transmission!”

Catherine, for a very brief moment, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Play it.”

A Combine fleet officer appeared on her screen, looking pale and barely human. “Pirate ship
Andromeda
, this is Cruiser-Two-Four-Seven of the People’s Combined Collective. You are wanted for collusion with anticitizen militants, kidnapping, bribery, and the destruction of a peaceful space station. Power down your engines and stand by to be boarded.”

“That’ll be the day,” Catherine said firmly. “Luis, send a reply, tell them to piss off. Sound general quarters.” She touched the intercom control. “Attention all hands, this is the captain speaking. Battle stations, battle stations, this is not a drill. We’ve got an incoming bandit from the Orlov Combine, looks like a light cruiser. All personnel suit up as quickly as possible. Damage control parties stand by. That is all.”

Wolfram von Spandau appeared on her screen from his station below decks. “What are your orders?”

“We can’t outrun them,” she said, “and I don’t want to leave them here to blast Sanctuary from orbit in any case. Colin, turn us around. Get me weapons lock. Target their propulsion system first. Retract the radiators. Engage ECM. I want a high speed pass, throwing everything we have at them.”

“It’s risky,
Kapitänin,
” her exec said.

“We’re not going to survive a long-range slug-match with that cruiser,” Catherine said. “Colin, bring us right down their throats! Fire everything we have, then get us below the planetary horizon again!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot said, as the two officers on the command deck began targeting and electronic defenses. “Stand by for maneuvers!”

Nattaya Tantirangsi reported from her station. “Skipper, we’re being scanned. She’s locked on! Missile launch! Volley Alpha, six warheads, closing fast!”

“Targeting!” Azevedo said.

Catherine grimaced. “Engage ECM. Nuchy, empty the missile racks, rapid fire! Luis, shoot down the incoming! Target their propulsion system with the gauss gun and fire at will!”

“Splash one!” Azevedo cried. “Splash two!”

“Firing!” Nattaya said. “Missiles away!” The
Andromeda
ripple-fired her two rotary missile launchers. Ten missiles all screamed toward the Combine cruiser. “Our racks are depleted!”

“I know. When we get to knife-fight range, divert lasers to targeting the enemy ship. We’re only going to get one pass. We won’t have time to reload the magazines.”

“Hang on!” Colin said, grunting as G-forces crushed him into his seat. The two ships, the seventy-meter-long
Andromeda
and the hundred and twenty-meter-long Combine cruiser, closed on each other in silence, at a blistering speed.

“Another volley inbound!” Azevedo said. “Six more missiles, Salvo-Bravo!”

“Target with lasers and engage, fire at will!”

Nuchy cried out excitedly. “Skipper! Two of our gauss slugs got through! Bandit is damaged! Her acceleration is dropping rapidly!”

“Excellent, keep up the—”

“Third volley inbound, Salvo-Charlie! Jesus, eight missiles!”

“Remain calm, Mr. Azevedo,” Catherine warned. “Divert the gauss gun to targeting the incoming warheads. Don’t let anything get through! Keep firing our missiles! Deploy all countermeasures, and try to fry the missiles’ targeting with our radar! Now, people!”

Luis and Nuchy focused on their duties, mashed into their chairs by the acceleration, their hands nonetheless flying across their consoles. The missiles were destroyed, spoofed, or lost their lock, one after another. One of the Combine missiles, however, had a surprise. It missed on the first past, flipped around to pursue the
Andromeda
from behind. “Skipper!” Nuchy said. “Missile on our six! It was hidden behind our exhaust plume!”

“Shoot it down!” Catherine ordered. It was too late. The ship shuddered violently, a sickening groan of twisting metal echoing through her corridors.

“We’re hit!” Nuchy said. An alarm sounded and warnings lit up her screens.

“No detonation!” Luis added. “It’s a dud.”

Wolfram von Spandau appeared on her screen. “
Kapitänin,
I will go assess the damage.”

“We’re still under acceleration!” Catherine said. The ship was accelerating at four times the force of gravity. “We’re about to make the pass! Target the bandit with everything we have left! Fire at will!” Zanzibar hung far below them as the two ships passed each other in a flash, exchanging fire and carving into each other with lasers. After the pass, the
Andromeda
kept going, racing to put Zanzibar between itself and the Combine ship. Klaxons and alarms screamed throughout the ship as weapons continued to fire. She’d been hit, but damage control parties couldn’t begin their work until she stopped maneuvering. Until the fight was over, Catherine didn’t even know how bad the damage was.

A few agonizing seconds later, the impossible happened: the Combine cruiser, trailing atmosphere and no longer accelerating, began to break up. She then vanished in a flash as her reactor exploded.

“Captain,” Nuchy said, almost in shock, “we…splash one bandit. We did it.”

“Congratulations, ma’am,” Luis Azevedo said, breathing heavily.

A cheer echoed throughout the ship. Crewmembers banged on bulkheads and shouted victoriously as they learned of the cruiser’s destruction. Just like that, it was over. Space combat tended to be a long, slow-paced affair, and it was very rare that ships could surprise each other at such close range. But when it did happen, combat tended to be short and violent. Whoever got the first good hit usually won, and somehow, the
Andromeda
had gotten lucky and scored a critical hit on the Combine cruiser.

“Wolfram, give me a damage report,” Catherine said. Her screens were lit up with red, but her exec was below decks and would have a better assessment.

There was no response.

“Wolfram, this is the captain, damage report!” Catherine was unable to hide the concern in her voice.

There was no response for a long moment. Then, “Captain, this is Tech Oswald. The first officer is dead. We’ve got a hull breach. Looks like one of their lasers hit the passageway he was in, just below the cargo deck. I’m…I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what he was doing out of his compartment. Damage control parties are responding.”

Catherine’s heart fell into her stomach again. She sat in silence, barely listening as Engineering, Astrogation, and other critical systems were checked by their respective damage control teams. The
Andromeda
was hit, but she had prevailed, and she wasn’t crippled. There had been a high price, though, and the butcher’s bill kept climbing as casualty reports came in. She rubbed her face with her hands and struggled to keep her composure.

“Uh, Captain, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Azevedo said quietly, “but we’ve got another problem. There’s…there’s an unexploded missile stuck in our hull.”

Catherine nodded. In the intensity of combat she’d almost forgotten about it. “Show me.” A second later, the feed from an external camera, looking down the
Andromeda’
s hull, appeared on her screen. It zoomed in and focused on what was very clearly the rear-end of a missile, embedded in the honeycomb energy absorber layer.

“I can pull it out with the manipulator arm, Captain,” Azevedo suggested.

“No. Leave it be. Get me Wade Bishop.”

* * *

“There’s good news and bad news,” Wade Bishop said, studying a 3D representation of the embedded missile in the holotank. He had a tablet computer in his hands, and was reading a military ordnance publication of some sort. “Actually, the bad news is there
is
no good news.”

“That’s…just lovely,” Captain Blackwood said resignedly. “Please explain.”

“Well, according to my pubs, that’s a Combine Type-2404 anti-ship missile.”