Warhorse (32 page)

“I'd say no doubt, sir,” she shook her head. “Even at this distance you can see that the missile tubes haven't been sealed. And that ion projector just under the main sensor bulge on the
Atlantis
would never have been left on a surplused ship. Legalities aside, the things are just too expensive to give away.”

Roman nodded. Her conclusions, unfortunately, jibed with his own. “So what we really have here is an unmarked military task force.”

“Yes, sir. If I had to guess, I'd say the
Atlantis
is either a destroyer or light cruiser, and the other two are converted and possibly beefed-up corvettes.”

Firepower, and to spare. “What about the 9862 system itself? Dug up anything on that yet?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, leaning over his shoulder to tap a few keys on his console. A chart appeared on Roman's helm display, with the star marked in flashing brackets. “It's a blue-white giant, about six hundred light-years from the Cordonale. Pretty undistinguished, as far as I can see from what little we've got on it. No mention of any visits to the system; no indication, for that matter, that anybody's ever so much as had a passing interest in the place.”

“Until now,” Roman said, tapping the data listing on the display. “I note the star's very similar in size and magnitude to the one the shark chased us away from. Coincidence?”

“It could be a
yishyar
,” Kennedy agreed. “I guess we'll know for sure in a couple of hours.”

Roman's radio crackled. “Web One to
Amity.
All finished here; we're coming in.”

“Acknowledged,” Roman said, and switched to the comm laser. “
Amity
to
Atlantis
; come in.”

“
Atlantis
; Captain Lekander,” the calm—and very military—voice came back promptly. The face on the screen was an excellent match to the voice. “What's our status,
Amity
?”

“My web boats will be back in about ten minutes,” Roman told him. “At that point we'll be ready whenever you are.”

“Good,” Lekander said briskly. “I'm not sure what you were told, Captain, but here's the scenario. A research team running on a
very
precise schedule has come up almost six hours overdue. We're going in to find out what happened to them.”

“Pretending to be a civilian research team?” Roman asked mildly.

Lekander's face didn't change. “It was thought your Tampies might balk at ferrying military ships,” he said. “That's not important. What
is
important is that you understand you're here strictly as transport; you will not—repeat
not
—get involved in whatever happens once we reach the system. You will sit tight until we're ready to go, observe everything that happens, and stay
out
of it. For the observing part, we'll be sending over a boat containing a high-power telescope/recorder when we reach 9862. The sitting-tight part is your responsibility.”

Roman locked eyes with him. “And if there turn out to be vultures in the system?” he asked bluntly.

“If you feel you're in immediate danger,” Lekander said stolidly, “you're authorized to Jump to the 66802 system—about two light-years away—and wait for us to rendezvous with you on Mitsuushi. Otherwise, we should have no problem clearing the vultures off you before we leave.”

Roman nodded, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “That assumes,” he said quietly, “that you
will
be leaving.”

Lekander's face cracked, just slightly, into a tight smile. “Don't worry,” he said. “We'll be leaving, all right.” He paused. “But the boat I'll be sending you will also have an AA-26 midrange sub-nuke torpedo aboard. Just in case.”

Sleipnir Jumped, the task force disengaged from their tether lines and headed off, and
Amity
's crew set about unpacking Lekander's telescope/recorder from the boat
Atlantis
had sent across.

They also unpacked the sub-nuke torpedo and mounted it and its launcher to the outer hull. Just in case.

And when that was done, and the telescope was tracking the departing fusion tracks, there was nothing to do but wait. For hours and hours…

“They certainly seem to know where they're going,” Kennedy said, leaning back in the helm chair and watching the task force's progress. “There's nothing of a search pattern about their course—they're just heading straight across into the asteroids.”

“Must have a beacon on the missing ship,” Marlowe agreed, studying his own displays. “Damned if I can pick up the signal, though.”

“Probably a split-wave,” Kennedy told him. “Or something equally private. I'd guess they're doing a minimum-time course, Captain; as soon as they make turnover we'll be able to figure their endpoint.”

“Can't we do that now?” Ferrol asked. “We should at least be able to track along their projected path.”

“I'm already doing that,” Marlowe said. “So far, I haven't found anything that could be a ship.”

For a moment the bridge was silent. Roman thought about how the shark had tried to tear
Amity
apart… “They could be behind an asteroid,” he reminded them. “Let's not assume the worst until—”

“Movement!” Marlowe snapped. “Portside of the task force, maybe four hundred kilometers away.”

“They see it,” Kennedy added. “They're altering course—blasting lateral to swing around toward it. Breaking formation…they're going for it.”

“Give me some more power on this scope, Marlowe,” Roman ordered, straining to make out the form that was now definitely picking up speed toward the circling task force. “I can't tell if that's a shark or a space horse.”

“One second, Captain—these damned controls are twitchy.” The view shimmered, gave an eye-wrenching jerk, steadied and enlarged—

“Holy mother,” someone murmured.

Roman found his voice. “What's the scale on that?”

“Measures out to almost twenty-six hundred meters,” Marlowe said grimly. “About thirty percent longer than the one we fought, with just over twice its volume.”

And if telekinetic strength indeed scaled with volume…Roman clamped down hard on the almost overpowering urge to send out a comm laser warning. A waste of time, or worse: Lekander would certainly know what his force was up against, and the last thing he needed was extra distractions. “Any sign of vultures?” he asked instead.

“Not that I can see,” Marlowe said. “Definitely no optical nets, anyway, at least not so far. Must recognize that they're not space horses.”

“Or else the lack of telekinetic abilities leaves the vultures nothing to lock onto,” Roman nodded. “Either way—”

“Got laser fire,” Marlowe cut in. “All three ships.”

Roman peered at the scope screen. The pale lines of ionized gas were just barely visible as they tracked along the shark's surface. “Any idea what power they're using?”

“Hard to say at this distance,” Marlowe said. “Though if they're standard combat lasers—yowp; there goes the shark.”

The huge predator swerved violently as one of the beams raked up toward its forward end. The laser corrected; but even as it found its target again, a cloud seemed to detach itself from the shark's body and flow forward. “There go the vultures,” Ferrol muttered under his breath.

“The lasers must have hit a sensory ring,” Kennedy said. “—Firing again.”

Again, the pale lines lanced out…but this time they stopped far short of their intended target, disappearing into the cloud that had coalesced in their path. “Is that the vultures doing that?” Roman asked Marlowe.

“Affirmative,” the other nodded. “Looks like they've got a screen of rocks set up, a sort of heavy-duty optical net. Though against military lasers—there; got a punch-through.”

One of the pale lines had pierced the barrier, and once again the shark twitched away from its touch. But almost instantly the beam was cut off again. “They got the hole filled in,” Marlowe reported grimly. “Those sharks learn fast, don't they?”

“It can't keep that up forever, though,” Ferrol shook his head. “Eventually it's got to run out of vultures.”

“Yeah, but maybe not before the ships get within grabbing range,” Marlowe pointed out. “If enough of that barrier is rock and not vulture, they may be able to hold it together long enough.”

A tiny flare sparked at the
Jnana's
hull— “Missile away,” Kennedy identified it. “Heading for the vultures. Make that two,” she amended as a second flicker appeared beside the
Starseeker.

Roman frowned as the two flares swung into alignment, the second crowding the tail of the first. The lead missile reached the laser barrier—

“Missile breaking up,” Marlowe announced. “Must be a net missile; yes, there's a glint from the filaments. Spreading around the vultures—
damn
.”

“What?” Roman snapped.

“Plasma discharge from the net,” Marlowe said, sounding stunned. “Absolutely massive. Must have had a thousand amps and at least that many volts on it.”

“
That
got the barrier open, all right,” Kennedy said. “Second missile going straight through the hole. Shark's telekening it to the side—must think it's another net missile—”

And an instant later the center of the screen went black as sunscreens kicked in. “Sub-nuke explosion, Captain,” Marlowe said. “Shaped blast, about a twenty-megaton rating, triggered approximately fifty kilometers out from the shark.”

Roman hissed between his teeth. Even at
Amity
's distance… “Ferrol, call down to Tenzing's people and have them put a real-time monitor on the radiation,” Roman ordered. “And have the Tampies watch for signs of stress in Sleipnir. We should be well clear of any trouble, but there's no point in taking chances.”

“Yes, sir,” Ferrol said, and turned to his intercom. On the scope screen the black dot was shrinking and fading—

And the shark was still moving. Sluggish, but clearly alive.

Roman shook his head in wonderment…in wonderment, and with the first stirrings of real fear. Even at fifty kilometers away a blast that size should have delivered a thunderclap of heat and particle radiation directly into the shark's surface and sensory clusters. If it could shrug off something that powerful—

“Missile away,” Kennedy announced into his thoughts; clenching his teeth, Roman shifted his attention back to the ships. A flare had appeared beside the
Atlantis
; and beside the
Starseeker
, and beside the
Jnana,
and beside the
Atlantis
again— “Correction: barrage away,” Kennedy amended. “Looks like they're throwing everything they have at it.” The first missile flare erupted in a dim pinprick of light—

“They've gone to chemical warheads,” Marlowe said, sounding stunned.

“Must be trying to kill it without excessive damage,” Kennedy suggested. “Probably figured the first sub-nuke had taken enough of the fight out of it.”

“Damn fool risky,” Marlowe muttered. “There it goes, though. Turning around and…wait a minute. What the
hell
?”

The shark had veered ponderously away from the incoming missiles; but instead of turning a full 180 degrees and running, it proceeded to trace out a convoluted path that seemed to be part helix, part spiral, and part random. Through it all the pinpricks of exploding warheads continued to flare across the middle of the display, looking for all the world like some strange space-going species of firefly.

And then, even as the task force launched a fresh barrage of missiles, the shark finally turned tail and fled.

“Only pulling about two gees,” Kennedy reported. “It's hurt, all right.”

“Hurt, and gone crazy both,” Ferrol snorted gently. “What the hell
was
that, anyway?—the dying-swan version of a mating dance?”

“Or else an attempt at evasive maneuvers,” Marlowe offered. “It was still doing a fair job of telekening those missiles away from it the whole time, even though they were getting closer there at the end.”

“It's slowing down,” Kennedy said, peering intently at her helm display. “Acceleration dropping toward zero…make that
at
zero.”

Roman held his breath. Again the firefly flashes dotted the screen—

But this time, directly against the shark's surface.

“They've got it,” Kennedy grunted. “—There go the lasers again.”

“Ion beams, too,” Marlowe reported. “And they're getting through—the explosions must have scattered the vultures. God, those lasers are actually cutting into the shark's hide. Cutting
deep
into it.”

Between the lasers, ion beams, and warheads the light show went on for another twenty minutes…and when it was finally over, there was no doubt whatsoever that the shark was dead.

Or, to be more precise, what was
left
of the shark was dead.

“Well,” Marlowe said to no one in particular, “that'll certainly give them a head start on dissecting the thing.”

With an effort, Roman unclamped his jaw. “A head start, and then some.” He reached for the comm laser control, set for tracking. The indicator flashed— “
Amity
to
Atlantis
,” he called. “Come in,
Atlantis
.”

“
Atlantis
; Captain Lekander,” the reply came a few seconds later. “You enjoy the show,
Amity
?”

“It's just nice to know the things
can
be killed,” Roman told him dryly. “We'd had our doubts.”

“Anything alive can be killed,” Lekander countered. “It's just a matter of having the right tools for the job.”

“I imagine. So what happens now?”

“We'll give the area a few hours to cool off, then send a team over to do some dissection,” Lekander said. “Assuming there's enough of it left by then—I don't know if you can see it from there, but the vultures have gone ahead and started lunch already. So much for honor among thieves, I guess.”