His Majesty's Starship (26 page)

“It is,” Arm Wild said.

“Then both of you suit up. We’re going to empty the ship. Plug yourselves into the air supply – we may be breathing canned for a while.”

Whatever was going to happen to
Ark Royal
, they would be ready for it.

- 19 -

21-22 May 2149

Two of the crew were trapped upstairs in orbit and two more were God knew where, and the rest of the crew was sitting with her in the Dome.

It was almost midnight but no one was likely to sleep. All Hannah had in the way of entertainment was a pack of cards, but it was better than nothing. She looked around as Samad picked through the cards in his hand, mind not really on the game. Members of the crew of each ship were forming their own cliques; any conversation at all was in the form of self-conscious whispers.

Soldiers patrolled constantly. Krishnamurthy’s allies didn’t have a military presence but they were able to come and go as they pleased. They had the grace to look embarrassed and uncomfortable.

At long last a party of Rusties appeared and a murmur went around the Dome. The captives were perking up, sitting up straighter. Here came their salvation.

The lead Rustie addressed the nearest NVN sentry. “I am Spar Mild and I speak for Iron Run. I will converse with your superior.”

The sentry looked around nervously and an officer hurried up to rescue him. “Mr Krishnamurthy has been waiting for you, sir. If you will come this way-”

“I choose to speak here.”

Now the officer glanced around. “Sir, this place is a little public-”

“It is the First Breed way for conversations to be conducted in public. Your superior will attend us here.”

The officer swallowed. “If you will wait here, sirs,” he said, and left them alone with the sentry. The man shifted nervously as all attention in the Dome was turned on him.

Krishnamurthy turned up thirty seconds later, rubbing his hands. “My dear Spar Mild, I am delighted you could come. Please, let us not talk here-”

“Iron Run has received your message,” said Spar Mild, the first sapient being in a very long time to interrupt Krishnamurthy. “Your argument is interesting.”

“Do you accept the legitimacy of my action?”

“You are in error to think that we will alter the rules of the Convocation.”

Krishnamurthy’s smile didn’t waver. “But as I explained, I am now the leader of the humans on this planet. I have done nothing that will interfere with the smooth running of the Convocation tomorrow. Various nations from Earth will be represented, as specified in the rules.”

“You have not impressed us with your mastery over the other nations.”

“But I have their superiors down here, in my power, and that makes them mine,” Krishnamurthy said.

“You have captured the Seniors of the Earth nations, we cede that point, but the nations have not acquiesced.”

Krishnamurthy shrugged. “Then we will remove the Seniors and install our own, according to your own custom, if that is what is required.” Now the attention of every human in the Dome was on him, boring into his back. He didn’t seem to notice or mind.

“There will be no innocent deaths,” said Spar Mild.

“There will be no innocent deaths,” Krishnamurthy agreed. “Seniors may be executed in accordance with First Breed custom and juniors are liable to our own laws, which are punishable by death if transgressed. Now-”

“We accept your leadership of the humans now on the surface of the Roving,” said Spar Mild. Krishnamurthy opened his mouth and drew himself up as if to argue, before actually realising what Spar Mild had said. Hannah heard it: so did every other human in the Dome, but no one could believe it. Had the Rustie really said that?

“This is a temporary measure,” Spar Mild added over the rising background murmur. “The humans here are under our protection and no harm will come to them. As we accept your leadership of them, we no longer hold their former leaders responsible for their well being: we hold you responsible, and reprisals will be made against your people if any harm comes to any of them. We are leaving soldiers of our own to ensure this.”

“You accept my leadership?” Krishnamurthy said.

“As a temporary measure,” Spar Mild repeated. “Its permanence will depend on the outcome of the affair in orbit.”

Krishnamurthy beamed. “I promise you a result very shortly,” he said.

*

“I think this is it, sir.”

Across the airless flight deck Nichol was hunched over his desk and staring at the displays. Gilmore abandoned the letter to Joel again and turned his attention to the monitor. Arm Wild, too, broke out of whatever internal meditation was occupying his thoughts to look.

There had already been a false alarm half an hour ago when a cluster of ships at the leading edge of the fleet stopped spinning, which Gilmore suspected would be the first stage of an attack. The ships were behind and just to the right of
Pacifica
, and for all he knew they might have made their own agreement with the new order.

But instead they had boosted out of orbit together. Not long after three others, all safely at the rear of the fleet, had done the same, heading in three different directions.

They should all have done that at the start, Gilmore thought angrily. The four ships of Krishnamurthy’s alliance couldn’t have hoped to subdue the rest of the ships scattered throughout the system. Rule One of the manual of space combat that he was mentally drafting would be: if you want to avoid a fight, a clean pair of heels is the best solution. Come to think of it, not an amazing philosophical insight.

And now most of the ships that could have scattered had done so. The Israelis, the other two Chinas, the rest of the Africans, all the Asian countries, most of the American countries, the Vatican, the Holy Arab Union ... all showing far more sense than the ships belonging to Prince James and his friends. The five allied ships stayed in formation,
Ark Royal
considerately hemmed in not just by her friends but by the opposition all around:
Great Zimbabwe
above,
Long March
behind, and
Shivaji
and
Pacifica
in front. A couple of miles behind
Long March
sat the South American Combine’s
Simón Bolívar
and the Galactic Corporation’s
Excalibur
, which so far had stayed silent. The five allies hung in space and made a nice juicy target, while the enemy gathered round and slavered.

Great Zimbabwe
and
Long March
were holding their position but
Shivaji
and
Pacifica
were moving in closer – still out of laser range, but closer – and coming round to face their target. It looked as if this was, indeed, it. He instinctively checked the time, though the log would already have noted it: 00.05. If the Battle of the Roving went down in history it would be noted as having happened on 22 May, 2149.

Rule Two in the manual would be: if you must design a ship to fight, design it so that it can fire in all directions. The weapons on those ships, like his own, faced forward only. Manoeuvring to fire was a bit of a giveaway, like the old sailing times when ships could chase each other in full view for a day before coming within gun range.

“This is
Shivaji
,” said a voice on general band. “Your final chance to signal your surrender.”

“Say nothing,” Gilmore said, on the conference band. No one replied.

“In-” Nichol’s voice broke and he coughed to clear his throat. “Incoming.”

The radar showed a small object streaking towards them from the
Pacifica
. Without thinking, Gilmore slapped at the laser panel on his desk and the object vanished. Out in space, the first torpedo fired in anger in space had just been vaporised by a beam of coherent light.

Rule Three – your laser AI is unlikely to distinguish between a torpedo and a meteorite so long as it is clearly heading for your ship. Don’t discourage it.

“All ships, set your lasers to automatic,” Gilmore said. Lasers were usually on manual in orbit, in case the computer mistook the intentions of an innocent transport capsule, but exceptions could be made.

The one torpedo must have been a test firing because suddenly
Shivaji
and
Pacifica
together let off a cloud of torpedoes. The lasers on
Ark Royal
,
Enterprise
and
Algol
opened up in return and the two met halfway. The forward viewer showed a new starfield springing into life between the ships as the torpedoes exploded and evaporated in bursts of molten light.

And through the cloud of seething debris came a fresh wave. The laser systems, half blinded by the results of their own success, were slow to react. They recharged and opened up again, but still at least half the newcomers flew on.

These weren’t nuclear weapons; the Rusties wouldn’t have tolerated that and the aim was to cripple and capture the ships, not destroy them. Half a mile from the ships the torpedoes burst open and a thick mass of metal hurtled from them. The lasers recalibrated again and opened fire, and then the mass struck the ships.
Ark Royal
vibrated under the impact.

“We’re spinning! Sir, we’re spinning!” Nichol yelped. The gyroscopes and the viewers showed it was true –
Ark Royal
was spinning slowly around its centre of gravity.

“Then correct it,” Gilmore said shortly. Training simulators presented worse cases than this.

“Aye aye, sir,” said Nichol, chastened, and together they fired the thrusters that steadied the ship.

“Where were we hit?”

“Leading face of the ring compartment,” said Nichol, poring over the instruments. “Holed fore and aft, but no lines severed and the ring appears to be intact.”

“Good.”
Ark Royal
’s small size had protected her as the grapeshot passed, with only one strike on her largest surface area.

The larger ships hadn’t been so lucky – he could see dark patches in their skins where there had been none before. Gilmore thought that this was how warfare had once been between ships: they sat a short distance apart and poured broadsides into each other until one was more full of holes than the other.

“
Ark Royal
. Your condition, everyone?” said Gilmore.

“
Bruxelles
. Several forward compartments holed. No casualties.”

“
Enterprise
. We-”

“Incoming from
Long March
!”

A burst of torpedoes from the Chinese ship astern, and now it was the turn of
Bruxelles
and
Nikolai
to protect the formation. The lasers of two ships against the torpedoes of one was a closer match and not one got through.

As abruptly as it had started, the fighting stopped. The ships still hung in orbit as if none of this had happened. Gilmore slowly relaxed, keeping part of his mind on full alert, to see what would happen next.

“
Excalibur
and
Simón Bolívar
to all ships. We are declaring neutrality and leaving orbit. We will defend ourselves if attacked.”

The two remaining ships of the fleet that had not yet been caught up in the conflict fired their main engines together. They were astern of
Long March
and their course took them beneath the allies and their attackers, passing between ships and planet.

“Thanks for the help,” Nichol muttered.

“They made a wise decision,” Arm Wild said.

No they haven’t, Gilmore thought. That course will take them right in front of the enemy’s guns. They could have worked that out ...

The two ships had almost reached the fleet. Their trajectories were unchanged but they were bringing their prows up to point at the allied ships. Gilmore’s mental antennae began to twitch.

“
Bruxelles
and
Nikolai
, stand by!” he shouted suddenly. “Get your lasers ready-”

Simón Bolívar
and
Excalibur
were still astern of the allies but were angled up and pointing directly at them, and the two abruptly unleashed a new volley of torpedoes at close range. The lasers on
Nikolai
and
Bruxelles
opened up in return but the closeness of the attackers meant there was less time to intercept all the incoming fire: more got through and
Bruxelles
and
Enterprise
shook with further blows. Now the two attackers were passing beneath the allies and were close enough to use their own lasers: beams raked all five ships, scorching trails along their hulls, fusing exposed circuitry and mechanisms, knocking out systems.

That was a dirty trick, Gilmore thought. Well, they had started it.

“
Algol
,
Enterprise
,” he said. “Stand by to target their main engines as they go past. All target
Simón Bolívar
first.” The two attackers were now ahead of the allies.

“Fire,” he said, and the three beams converged on
Simón Bolívar
’s main engine block. Main engines were built to take a stream of fusion explosions, but the combined energy of three beams caused the metal to glow red, then white, and then erupt in a cloud of molten vapour.

As
Simón Bolívar
started to tumble they switched fire to
Excalibur
, but the ship was already too far away and the lasers did less damage.

“Yes!” Nichol shouted as the South American ship began to tumble. At that speed, and now with no main engine to slow down with,
Simón Bolívar
was well out of the conflict: the crew should be able to work it into a higher orbit until repairs were finished.
Excalibur
turned to brake and took up position behind
Pacifica
and
Shivaji
, abandoning its ally to sort out its own problems.

Then
Pacifica
and
Shivaji
opened up again with more grapeshot, and again
Long March
sent in its own burst from astern.

“
Bruxelles
,
Algol
, return fire,” Gilmore said and the two ships did so with a barrage of their own torpedoes.
Ark Royal
shivered from another blow: a piece of shot had struck the bow and glanced along it, again hitting the invitingly flat, broad front face of the ring compartment. This time the ship wasn’t punctured and there wasn’t enough force in the blow to start another spin.