This Starry Deep (6 page)

Chapter
8
– Mud

I APPROACHED A CLOUD of debris and considered my options: around or through. Around would take longer, though not much, but going through could prove interesting. Harder to fly through, of course, but you didn’t become a good pilot without learning how to fly through the hard stuff. Or a crazy pilot, for that matter. But being good and sometimes crazy had saved my life a few times. Through it would be.

I slid into the field, cutting the ship around what looked to be someone’s cockpit. They didn’t seem to need it anymore, at least. I slowed down, pinging out for any signs of life, electronic or otherwise. Nothing came back. A ship’s central banks should be protected enough to survive the level of destruction I saw around me. But I got nothing back to let me know the banks were floating out there. That made me curious.

I slowed down, nudging closer to the wrecked cockpit. No blood stains on the seating, so whoever had flown her had also gotten out. No bodies floating nearby, so that theory held. For now.

The ship’s data bank was normally kept in the back of the cockpit. Easily reachable for emergency measures, but not up front where it could be hit by simple crashes. Kept in a secure box, radiation blocked, extra thick, all the standards: each one was supposed to be able to withstand the destruction of the ship and keep pinging out for recovery.

Here I had a cockpit with nothing. No ping, no extraneous destruction. The thing hung there, spinning slowly in space, while I looked it over. The edges weren’t especially scorched or melted, which tended toward a no-explosion explanation. So what had happened here? Was it calmly torn apart?

There was no good way to find out from inside my ship. Scans weren’t telling me enough. I reset my goggles and slid on a helmet, locking it into place on my thinsuit. As a last thought before I cycled through the airlock, I routed all ship messages back to the ship instead of my suit. Distractions could mess with me out there, and I wanted the silence to think.

I leapt out into open space, harnessing a small compressed-gas backpack in place as I did, firing it to angle me toward the bulk of the wreckage. I came to a stop, bumping against a section of what seemed to be landing gear, and set myself into a slow spin along all three axes. I relaxed my neck and my eyes and just drank in the sights.

I often found that, though it could be time consuming, just letting the sights slide into my mind worked best for me. Problems would have answers, but sometimes I needed to let them come to me. The wreckage came into and out of view with an easy regularity. Part of my local scenery now, I let it become natural.

No visible burn marks, nothing notable at all about the ship. Except the fact that it was in pieces and the data banks seemed to be missing, as were any crew. So what did that leave me with? Not much.

Except. What could take a ship apart like this and not leave a trace of its work? Lasers, sonics, missiles, and disruptors all, well, disrupted. Brute force, on the other hand, wouldn’t. I grabbed a section of hull about as large as my leg as I spun by and turned it around in my hands. The motion set my gentle spin into a warble, but I fought the urge to correct myself to something resembling normalized.

The hull section had a nice ragged lip to it. I peered at the edges, running a finger carefully over the hills and valleys of the rough metal. A gravity wave could do this, if aimed right. So could pinpoint magnetics. Modern ship hulls tended to be nonferrous, but what ship designers normally meant by “tended” only went as far as the engine blocks. Ships still needed to be docked, and there were enough magwebs in use that a fully resistant hull made no sense.

So all right, I assumed a magnetic weapon with incredible accuracy. Gravity bubbles would have scattered the ship far more than I saw. Magnetics won out by a nose. The problem was, no one had magnetic weaponry that could do this. I didn’t like it. I shot myself back to my ship, grabbing another smaller hull section as I went.

Using the communications array would be one of the dumbest things I could do. Chances were that the Hurkz Reclaimer’s beacon had gone out already, putting nearby landing points on alert for me.

I sat there, playing with two now-heavy pieces of metal, considering my options. Broadcasting this in to authorities would almost certainly give away my position, and I would need to state a name and shoot an ID beacon wave to get anyone to listen for a tic. Sitting on the whole affair left a bad taste in my mouth.

I thought, quickly, about calling the parents in. The idea found itself tossed away twice as fast as it came up, though. Keeping my wanted status from them for now meant no running to them with odd problems. Still, some sort of cavalry needed calling and I had to do it. My own problems loomed, but I couldn’t just ignore this sort of thing because of a few personal issues.

I keyed the communicator array and pinged out a general distress. Leaving my ID in the ping would bring the Hurkz, but would also ensure that someone responded. Even they could be of some use here.

The array chirped with incoming and I thumbed the mic open. No video request with the incoming signal, which was nice, and I pushed up my goggles, relaxing back as I did.

“Signal received,” the message loop started, “please stand by for connection. Your request for assistance is important to us.” Well, good to know. I waited a while longer, probably less than five minutes, though it felt closer to fifty.

They came on the line and were all business. “Registered craft MA19-2, this is Emergency Response, how can we help?” I sighed in relief, quietly enough that they didn’t hear it. First hurdle leapt clear, they didn’t feel the need to bring up my status first thing.

“Emergency Response, this is MA19-2, I have a wreck out here. Location was in the ping.”

“MA19-2, what is the nature of the wreckage?” Did you cause it, son?

“Emergency Response, craft MA19-2 was not involved, repeat not involved. No damage here, guys, just passing through and found a wreck. No recorder, no crew, this is a strange one. Sending scan and hull camera data supplemental. Request investigation and retrieval of other craft.” I bundled up the extra data as promised and shot it to them. They would get it fast enough but take a few to sort through all of the information.

“MA19-2, supplemental data received. We will dispatch to your location. Can you hold for meet and brief? Records show MA19-2 as registered response-capable craft,” yeah guys, I know, I’m licensed to help you, “and, ahhh, further questioning may be needed.” The Hurkz.

“Negative Emergency Response, on another call,” I lied to them, “and cannot remain in area. Will deploy markers around current state of wreckage for ease, and you guys have my data, all right?” I gave up on the formal patter and hoped they would, too. “Just send someone out to have a look and deal with it, I’m out-system bound.”

“MA19-2 we may need to question you…regarding the wreckage.” Her slight pause told me everything I needed to know.

“Negative, E.R., repeat negative. Look, like I said, I’m out-system bound, and I’m already late.”

“Hey, MA19-2, we don’t write this stuff, we just do what they tell us. Response ship has already deployed and will be at your location within an hour. Still, you need to remain—”

“Thanks, E.R.,” I cut her off, “I’m sure they’ll be fine. If you have any questions that can’t be answered by the data I sent, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you quick, promise.”

“MA19-2! I am authorized to warn you that failure to remain on site will jeopardize your flight status.”

“So will staying, E.R., but thanks for the warning. MA19-2 out.”

And so much for staying off the radar. Still, something hit that ship, and whatever did it needed to be bundled up and found. Doing my duty, now don’t mind me while I leave town right quick.

I plotted a course fast and hard, not really paying too much attention to where I ended up so long as it really would be close to out-system holdings. I thumbed the engines to life and shot away from the problem in the opposite direction from the incoming Emergency Response crew.

Banking, already a fair distance away, my internal gravity hit a tiny lag and I glanced down at the odd clanging sound from near my feet. The two pieces of wreckage I’d brought on board with me. Whoops.

Chapter
9
– Jonah

HODGES STOOD with his scowl aimed directly at me. I met and held his gaze. Most people, when they meet my gaze when I’m stressed, angry, and working, can’t hold it. To his credit, Hodges could and did.

Wasn’t a time for pissing contests, though. I wouldn’t forget that Hodges was playing me. No, not at all. The flight group, showing up as tiny marked stars moving in a holographic field, needed my attention more. They were, even if they weren’t aware of it, counting on me to help save their lives.

“Flight group, this is Jo…Captain Madison, requesting full group status,” I said to the room. Mics picked up my speech and relayed it to the helmet of each pilot in the group.

“Acknowledged, Captain. This is Strike Leader, group status clean.” As she spoke, her name flashed on the display. Captain Sarah Bushfield, call sign “Deep Water.”

I scanned the board again and tracked her team’s progress. They were in formation, spreading out slowly as they went. It was a solid move: spread out slowly enough and the enemy might not notice, focusing their plans on a much tighter group.

The enemy ships also flew in a formation. They were using a simple flying V to come in straight and fast, by the looks of it. That could be good. Even if they had darkened a few systems, they hadn’t met serious resistance from the military, not yet. Perhaps their tactics extended only to planetary movements and not to full-on space combat. Then again, if Hodges was keeping things from me, and I could tell he was, this may not have been their first meeting after all.

We had a numbers advantage, though: thirty of our best fighters to fifteen of theirs. But their ships and pilots were unknown, in terms of both capabilities and firepower. It wouldn’t do to get cocky based on numbers.

“Flight group, you’re almost in visual range. Deep Water, invert formation once visual range is achieved. Over.”

“Sir, we don’t know what
their
visual range is,” Bushfield pointed out. Damn, she was right. I told her so and backed off.

The enemy group scattered a few seconds later, spreading out impossibly fast. They seemed to skitter across space, markers flickering to keep up. “Scatter!” Bushfield demanded over the radio. “They’re too damn fast, find a target and take it out!”

“Deep Water, report, what do they look like?” I asked, seeing Hodges lean in over the board.

“Sending visual data now, sir,” she said. I could hear the tightness in her voice. No one likes being asked to stop trying to stay alive long enough to send a picture back home. Intel was as crucial as anything this time out, though, and she knew it. She just didn’t have to like it.

“Sir,” some technician behind me said, and I turned to see a series of pictures lighting up along the wall. The ships were thin, coming down to a long nose cone that didn’t quite seem practical. Four wings sprouted, one every ninety degrees around the ship. I could see the engines, one at each wingtip.

“Enlarge that as best you can,” I told the tech. He nodded and the image zoomed, losing quality as it did. There was enough detail that I could make out what looked like joint points under the engines. That’s how they moved so blasted fast.

I didn’t think I wanted to meet the pilots who could take that sort of G-force for the whip turns those ships looked designed for. Maybe they had gravity tech, too, but even then, gravity adjusters in a ship that small would have trouble adjusting fast enough to keep the pilots in one piece. Trying those moves in anything bigger than a pack would be deadly. I didn’t know what we were looking at, or who.

“Deep Water, be advised, the ships’ engines are on the wing tips. Take those out and…” I started to relay.

“Copy. We’ve
been
trying to get a target lock on one, but they’re so damned fast,” she said. She spoke quickly, distracted. I needed to shut up and let her do her job.

“Left wing, close in, try a three-sided box, Hammerhead, come over the top and let’s do this. Engage, guys. Engage!” she yelled. I took half a step back, watching the formations of ships sweep and change, and just listened to the chatter.

“Cap’n, they’re too damn fast…”

“Shut up, Tommy. Get in there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Deep Water, this is Echo Chamber. I got one of these things on my tail. I can’t shake him.”

“I got Echo, Cap’n. Highball out.”

I watched as Highball made a sharp cut - his engines must have screamed bloody murder at him for the move - as he shifted around to close in on Echo Chamber. I couldn’t see the actual ships, but the way that the light indicating the enemy ship had just reversed, I could only begin to imagine how the engines must be able to rotate fully around and what kind of stress that would put not only on the pilot but on the ship itself.

Regardless of stress, the ship had reversed itself and took out Highball. I watched the light marking his position go out, listened to the cries of shock. Those cries were quickly followed by a stone-cold death confirmation by Deep Water. Bushfield was a pro. Of course she was. Same with the rest of her group.

As Highball died, hopefully quick enough that he didn’t feel it, Echo Chamber turned around and started to fire. The enemy ship followed Highball to the grave. No one cheered.

“This is Deep Water to strike group. Reform and wedge. Repeat, reform on me.”

“Deep Water, this is Captain Madison: don’t do it.”

“Repeat, Captain?”

“Don’t form up, they’re too fast for you to wedge through. Stay loose and pick them off.”

“Sir,” she told me, “they’re swarming. Honest-to-God swarming. If we try a pick-off they’ll weed us out. If we form up we can cover each other.”

“Damn it, this is an order. Stay loose!”

“Negative, Deep Water out.”

I looked at Hodges, who only scowled once again. “Hodges, damn it, they’re going to suicide if they try this!”

“Captain Madison,” he said, “you’re here to advise, not demand.”

“I’m here to make sure these kids don’t die!”

“Stand down, Captain.” And with that Hodge straightened, removing his hands from the edge of the table. I wanted to punch the wall. Or Hodges. Maybe both.

Instead I watched the board. The ships were forming up, quickly, as the enemy moved around them. If the enemy was following a pattern in their movements, it wasn’t immediately apparent. I could sense something at the edges of it, though. Obvious pattern or not, the movements didn’t look good.

“Hodges,” I asked, keeping my voice cool, “what planet are they coming up on, anyway? How far out is this wave?”

“Trasker Four,” he said, not bothering to look at me.

“That’s a system and a half out,” I said, “there’s no way we’ll get there in time to provide assistance to the strike group.”

“They won’t need it, Captain,” Hodges said.

We went back to watching the board and listening in to the group’s chatter. It didn’t matter. What we were listening to, it became obvious, would be a live recording of their last moments alive. Boxed in, not able to re-scatter fast enough, they were being picked off by the enemy ships that outclassed them handily in speed and maneuverability.

I didn’t want to watch, not from afar. I wanted to be in it, then maybe I could make a difference. But from where I was, what good could I do? None, just hearing orders barked and radios squelch as they exploded. I tried to give advice, but my options were as limited as theirs. More so, really. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see and I couldn’t help and all I
could
do was try desperate attempts at second-handing a battle strategy against an enemy I didn’t understand.

A muscle in the corner of my jaw twitched and I felt my anger rise again. Hodges. If he had given me all of his data, maybe this would have played out differently. His secrets, whatever his agenda was, were costing a lot of good men and women their lives. They also cost me time I could be looking for Shae. Unacceptable.

Hitting him just then wouldn’t have solved anything, though. As much as I wished different. But something else might work.

“Deep Water, this is Madison. Do they follow you?”

“Are you…Yes, sir. They follow us.” I knew she wouldn’t like this next part.

“I need you to lead them away from Trasker Four. Can you force them along our vector?”

“While we have a few ships left, sir, I suppose so. But there’s no way you can get us reinforcements in time.”

“That’s my problem. You have your orders.” I started toward the door. Hodges called after me.

“Captain Madison! You can’t leave the battle deck! What are you doing?”

“Saving who I can, General,” I spat at him, “if I can. Court martial me later.”

The door slid shut behind me and I knew it wouldn’t be more than seconds before Hodges himself came for me or security found me in the halls. Nothing for it. I had a purpose.