Her Brother's Keeper - eARC (45 page)

“Are those military ordnance publications you’ve got there?” Marcus asked. “Aren’t those classified?”

“Yup,” Wade said. “Anyway, the 2404 is about the most vindictive missile ever fielded. It’s not designed to detonate upon impact. It’s got an armored penetrator nose and a long-delay, anti-removal, anti-disturbance fuze. It’s intended to embed itself in any enemy ship, like us, for example, and sit there being a pain in the ass. If we try to pull it out, it’ll probably detonate. If we accelerate too much, try to land, or transit with it still embedded in the hull, it’ll probably detonate. If we just wait and do nothing, eventually the timer will run down and it’ll detonate. The warhead is three hundred kilograms of high explosive, more than enough to tear the ship in half.”

“How much time do we have?” Chief Engineer Nair asked. She looked tired, disheveled, even. Her normally cool composure had cracked. Her assistant engineer, Love, who had entered the
Agamemnon
with Wade, had been killed in the battle. There was no time for mourning now.

“I don’t know,” Wade answered. “The timer is randomized. It could be a matter of minutes, it could be days or weeks. Eventually, though, the battery will bleed down and it’ll detonate.”

Kel Morrow, the Astrogator, spoke up. “Why would anyone design such a weapon?”

Wade shrugged. “It ties up resources. A ship lost in battle is lost. A ship that’s damaged can limp home. A ship with this thing stuck in it? It’s not going anywhere. Even if you try to abandon ship, there’s a chance the missile will detonate during the evacuation. It was designed with the Concordiat Fleet in mind, I suspect. The Combine fleet isn’t so concerned with losses, doctrinally.”

“Can you disarm it?” the captain asked.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Wade said honestly. “There are procedures for it, but they’ve never been tested. I can’t do it from here. Unless you have a military-grade manipulator robot handy, I’m going to have to suit up, go outside, and go hands-on. The missile has anti-tampering features, but their software is pretty crude, I’m pretty sure I can get around it. But the only way to actually disarm it is to take it apart and remove the detonator assembly. It doesn’t have an off-switch.”

“Will you try?” the captain asked. “It’s a lot to ask.”

“No, it’s not,” Wade disagreed. “If we don’t do something, we’re all dead anyway. Bearing in mind that my Fleet Nuclear/Explosive Ordnance Disposal certifications have been expired for a few years, I’ll give it my best shot. I believe I can disarm it, but I can’t make a positive statement. It’s gonna be dicey.”

“I understand, Mr. Bishop,” the captain said. “Thank you. I know you’ll do your best.”

A short while later, Wade and Cargomaster Kimball were suiting up in the ship’s docking bay. Kimball was quite insistent that Wade not go on his spacewalk alone, and the mercenary didn’t argue; he needed help with all of the tools and equipment, as well as a safety backup. Kimball was the most experienced EVA operator by far. Annie was helping him into his suit.

Devree Starlighter joined them in the docking bay, and helped Wade get into his own spacesuit. “You be careful out there,” she said firmly “Nobody else is going to die, you hear me?”

Wade looked at her as he sealed the suit’s gloves. “If we go, we’re all going together. But listen, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was going to work. No worries, hey?”

Devree shook her head. “You’re an idiot.” She moved forward, kissed him on the cheek, then pulled the helmet down over his head. “You’re sealed.”

Marcus was there too. “Wade,” he said, looking over at Annie. “My daughter is on this ship.”

“I know, Boss. I’ve got this.” Wade checked his suit’s systems. “Boards are green. Comms are good. O2 is good. Heating and cooling are good. Devree? Can I buy you dinner when we get back to New Austin?”

Devree raised an eyebrow. “You mean like a date?”

“Something like that.”

She smiled. “We’ll see. Focus on not killing us all and we’ll go from there.”

Wade chuckled inside his helmet. He watched Devree, Marcus, and Annie leave the docking bay, and the room fell silent as it slowly depressurized.

“Are you ready, Mercenary Bishop?” Kimball asked.

“As ready as I’m going to get,” Wade said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The brown ball of Zanzibar hung far below the
Andromeda
as Cargomaster Kimball and Wade Bishop emerged from the docking port in the nose. Catherine, along with everyone else on board, monitored the ship’s external camera feeds as the two men made the long spacewalk down to where the missile was embedded. On the dark size of the ship, away from the sun, Wade pulled out a flashlight to examine the missile. Tethered to the ship for safety, he moved forward to do so while Kimball hung back.

“Definitely a Type-2404,” Wade said. His communications were being relayed to the command deck. “She’s stuck in there good, too. Kimball, bring the laser cutter up. We’re going to need to take off a section of the hull so I can get to the internals.”

Catherine watched in silence as Wade and Kimball used the laser to cut away a section of the honeycomb energy absorber. The chunk was sent spinning off into the darkness and Wade moved in, tools in hand. He removed a small panel on the outer section of the hull, plugged a cable into the computer mounted on the wrist of his spacesuit, and attached an adapter to the end of the cable. He then connected it to a port in the missile.

“Running diagnostics now,” he said. “It’s not letting me in, but let me try.…” He trailed off momentarily as he tapped the screen of the computer on his wrist. “That did it. Their software is outdated as hell. I think I spoofed it. Okay, the anti-tampering mechanism should be disabled.”

“Should be?” Catherine asked.

Wade didn’t exactly shrug inside his spacesuit, but tried. “Best I can do, Captain. Okay, I’m going to remove this panel now and get at the internals. If it doesn’t detonate, we’ll know the anti-tamper is disabled.” He chuckled humorlessly, hovering just above the missile in the blackness of space. Using a power tool, he removed a series of screws, pulled a computer board out, held his breath, and snipped the cable.

“Nothing happened,” Kimball pointed out. On the command deck, Captain Blackwood exhaled heavily.

“Okay, next step,” Wade said, reading his screen. “Damn it. I’ve got to get through this mass of cables and shit and get at the detonator. Some of them I can cut, some of them I can’t, and they’re not marked or anything. This will take a while. Stand by.”

Everyone on the command deck watched nervously as Wade slowly navigated the tangled mess of cables, connectors, and circuit boards, occasionally cutting something when the publications told him it was safe to do so. The younger officers whispered to each other, but no one else said anything. After a few minutes, Wade brought the power tool back in and began to remove screws and fasteners from the detonator assembly.

“Okay,” he said over the radio, sounding tired, “I’ve reached the detonator assembly. I’m going to remove it and disrupt the firing train.” Bracing with one hand, he reached into the guts of the missile and withdrew a cylindrical piece about thirty centimeters long. It remained connected to the rest of the missile by an umbilical cable. “When I cut this cable, there’s a chance the detonator assembly will explode. It’s only got about half a kilogram of explosives in it. It won’t set off the missile now that I’ve removed it. Stand by.”

He retracted the detonator assembly until is umbilical cable was taught, then clamped a cutter onto it. Turning in his suit so his helmet visor was facing away from the detonator, he cut the cable. The cylinder exploded, popping in a silent flash and peppering the hull with fragmentation. Wade went tumbling away from the hull, bouncing back when he hit the end of his tether.

“Mr. Bishop!” Kimball said. He vaulted forward, as graceful in zero gravity as ever, and grabbed Wade. “He’s alive!”

“My arm hurts,” Wade Bishop said.

“You’ve got a suit tear,” Kimball said. “I can patch it.
Andromeda,
this is Kimball, have the med tech standing by when we get back in. He’s got a few minor suit tears. I’m patching now.”

“I got fragged,” Wade said.

“Mr. Bishop, this is the captain,” Catherine said. “Is it safe for us to remove the missile now?”

He grunted as Kimball applied a second patch to his suit. “Affirmative. I’ve disrupted the firing train. Bring the claw down and yank it out. Gingerly, please, it’s still full of high explosives.” As Wade supervised, the
Andromeda’
s manipulator arm unfolded itself and came around. The claw clamped down onto the expended rocket motor of the missile. Everyone on the command deck cringed and the hull vibrated as the massive, one-ton missile was pulled out of the ship’s skin. Once clear, it the claw released it, sending the Combine warhead tumbling off into the night.

Wade keyed his microphone one last time. “This is Bishop. Scene clear. Coming back aboard. Out.” Wade couldn’t hear the relieved cheers of the ship’s crew. Catherine exhaled heavily.

Chapter 30

The Privateer Ship
Andromeda

Deep Space

Danzig-5012 System

It was somber on the cargo deck of the
Andromeda
as the crew stood in a tight formation, hands folded behind their backs, flight suits pressed and cleaned. The ship accelerated toward the transit point at a steady one G. The
Andromeda
didn’t have a chaplain, and her crew held widely varied belief systems, but burial in space was a tradition dating back over a thousand years. All present paid their respects in their own way.

Annie stood quietly in the ranks as Captain Blackwood presided over the ceremony. Her father and his mercenary team were standing in the back, missing Randy Markgraf. The captain’s brother and his two friends were there as well. Cecil Blackwood, in particular, looked a mess. He had dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in quite some time.

Captain Blackwood’s voice was solemn and clear as she read an invocation. In her hands was a gold-inlaid, bound-leather Spacer’s Bible, one that was well over a century old. “In the ancient tradition of our forebearers, we will now commit the bodies of the fallen to the stars. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, all things must pass, for even the stars themselves are not eternal. We all share the same origin. We all come from the stars, and to the stars we all must return, one way or another. It is the way of things, and it is the way it has ever been. Only God is eternal, only God is universal, and we now ask that He shepherd the souls of the fallen to their well-earned, eternal rest.”

The captain closed the Bible, and looked up at her crew. “I have asked much of you on this tour. You have not once disappointed me, not once let me or your shipmates down. A captain could not ask for a finer crew, and serving with you has been my honor. We are fewer in number today, but we accomplished our mission, we rescued the hostages, and we defeated an enemy cruiser well above our throw weight. You all performed phenomenally. You all have much to be proud of. Most of all, let us be proud of our fallen shipmates. They sacrificed everything so that the rest of us may live. They died fighting for their comrades. Please take a moment to reflect, pray, and remember the dead. Thank them for their sacrifice, and bid them farewell. We depart without them now, for they must walk a different road. Mourn the dead, but do not despair; theirs is the road we all must walk, in time. Let us be comforted in the belief that we will see them again, before the end of all things.”

The cargo deck was as silent as a ship under acceleration could be as the crew took a moment to reflect and, in most cases, pray. Some bowed their heads, others whispered prayers, some quietly wept, but all remained in formation together. Many of them were injured. Some could barely stand, but they stood anyway. Even Mordecai Chang, who hated to leave his personal compartment for any reason, made a rare public appearance, though he wore a surgical mask to protect him from germs. The only one not present was Luis Azevedo, who was manning the command deck alone.

This hadn’t been at all like Annie had imagined it would be. She had read of the dangers of space travel, of course, but they had always seemed so distant to her. Three people had died on this voyage, and more were injured. The captain’s face revealed little, but Annie thought she looked as if she’d been crying. She had been close to the executive officer.

Annie thought back to the things that had bothered her before, the things she had considered to be problems, and felt small and petty because of it.
You didn’t get to see your friends enough,
she thought bitterly.
Life was boring. You wanted to meet a cute boy. You wanted to ride in the rodeo.
Those things had defined her life before leaving New Austin, but now? None of it seemed to matter. Annie’s heart still ached over poor Sparkles, but she wasn’t even angry with Victoria Alexander anymore. She was just a stupid rich girl, a child, too fried on drugs to even know what she was doing. Annie actually felt
bad
for her. How screwed up was her home life that that was how she acted?

Looking around at her shipmates, Annie knew that she was where she belonged. Maybe one ship in a great big universe didn’t make much difference, but it could make
a
difference. The
Andromeda
had changed the course of history for an entire world! Maybe that wasn’t normal, maybe that was an exceptional experience, but Annie had had a part in it, and she was proud. The troubles of her old life seemed so small in comparison.

After a long moment, the captain looked up. “Crew, atten-
HUT!
” Annie snapped to attention with the rest of the crew. “I will now read the names of the fallen before committing their bodies to the stars.” The bodies of the dead were carefully wrapped in Mylar blankets and secured. One by one, they would be lowered into the ship’s casualty chute, which would drop them out the bottom of the ship. In an instant, they’d be vaporized in the ship’s exhaust plume. Mazer Broadbent stood at attention, sending the bodies off, as Cargomaster Kimball played “Amazing Grace” on a set of old Avalonian bagpipes. “Randall Markgraf, of New Austin. Wolfram von Spandau, First Officer, of Heinlein.” A single tear trickled down the captain’s cheek as her friend, adviser, and second-in-command was laid to rest, but she maintained her reserve. “Charity Delacroix, Assistant Engineer, of Heinlein.” Indira Nair openly wept as her assistant’s body was sent down the chute. One of her shipmates placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

Annie had never seen her so emotional before. From what she’d heard, the engineer was going to do a damage assessment with First Officer von Spandau, but Charity Delacroix had insisted that she go instead. The chief engineer was more important, she’d supposedly said. She was killed by the same laser strike that had taken the first officer. Annie couldn’t imagine the pain, what it was like to have someone die for you.

When the bagpipes fell silent, and the casualty chute secured, the captain told the crew to stand at ease. “It has been a long journey, and I’m afraid it’s not over yet. We’ve taken damage and circumstances necessitate that we take the long way home. Our trip back to New Austin will be substantially longer than the one from there, and we will need to stop at the Llewellyn Freehold for repairs. Until then, we’re limited in how much acceleration we can maintain, and it will be slow going. When we get back to New Austin, we’ll stay planetside for a local week, and everyone will get some well-deserved R&R. I wish I could give you more time, but the mission isn’t over until we return to the Arthurian System. After that, we will head home, to Heinlein, and the ship will remain grounded for some time while she’s refitted and overhauled. Spend time with your families. Live your lives. Make the most of the time you have. If any of you wishes to remain grounded after we return, you can come see me privately and we’ll discuss the matter. There’s no shame in staying home for a while, not after we’ve been out so long and endured so much. Until then, I ask that you all stay focused on your jobs, and don’t let complacency get the better of you. Complacency kills, and we’ve had enough death on this tour.”

The captain thanked her crew one last time, called them to attention, then dismissed them back to their duty stations. Annie turned and saw her father comforting Devree Starlighter. She wanted to talk to him, tell him she wanted to stay on the
Andromeda
, but now was not the time. She quietly left the cargo deck. She had a lot to think about.