Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Pursuit Page 10

  He watched the displays as six inbound torpedoes raced towards Avenger, juking and weaving to avoid the AA/point defense fire from Avenger's turrets. The rapid firing, three barreled turrets swiveled and elevated, streamers of laserfire chasing the enemy torpedoes across the ever-shrinking gap between them and the ship. Elco saw one explode, a small fireball of propellant that was snuffed out a heartbeat later by the vacuum. A second Priman torpedo died a moment later. Elco was almost beginning to let hope sneak back into his thoughts, but that stopped when his bridge crew called out.

  "Fifteen seconds to impact!" Elco heard Lieutenant Caho and the weapons officer call simultaneously. The torpedoes would soon be so close that Avenger's hull would block most of the point defense turrets from tracking them. There was no clear winner between his two options, no magical signpost to guide him or cosmic hint that would show him the way. He made his decision, letting intuition and his churning gut guide him and wishing with every fiber of his being that he was following the right instincts.

  "Helm! Change course. Bring us around behind the moon and into the shipyard. Try to keep the moon between us and the Priman ships."

  "Heading back into the shipyard?" asked Captain Vol as his brow furrowed. He wasn't sure what they could hope to accomplish by doing so. His own ships could keep tracking the Confederation ship even through the scrambling effects of the tractor field, and he had assumed the Confed captain would simply try to make his best efforts at outrunning the torpedoes. Heading for the shipyard only prolonged the inevitable; his torpedoes would hit, and the ship would still be picked apart piece by piece.

  "Pursuit course," he commanded as he watched the various data feeds. "Keep at their maximum laser range for now, and once our torpedoes hit we'll close the distance. They might even make it to the edge of the shipyard, but they'll be coasting inside dead and burning."

  Elco hadn't been this close to fear in a long time. The deadly Priman EMP torpedoes were a handful of seconds from impact, and even now their long range lasers still pounded Avenger's aft shields. The briefs were all very clear: an impact would wipe out all the ship's active electronics; there was just no counter.

  He saw a third Priman torpedo get cut in half by intersecting fire from two different point defense turrets, but he know it wasn't going to be enough. There were three torpedoes left, and all they needed was one to get through.

  Suddenly a thought struck him; he needed to call Corinne Sosus. He stabbed at the comm panel on the control board in front of him. "CAG!" he called as the connection lit up on her end, her puzzled face appearing from a panel in her hangar.

  "We're going to get hit by an EMP torpedo; shut your fighters all the way down," he said in a rush, clock ticking away in his head. "You might have to launch and screen us while we reboot the ship if it comes to that." He didn't wait for her to acknowledge, another idea swirling from nebulous wisps into the beginnings of a plan.

  In an instant, one insane, ridiculous idea had percolated to the surface of his consciousness. EMP effects could often be minimized if the electronics in question weren't in operation. If there was no power flowing through the circuits, there were no fields to disrupt and overload. It was one of the crazy theories forwarded by Confed's R&D people, but it was just that; an idea. That was why he'd ordered Corinne to turn her fighters into bricks. He harbored the faintest of hopes that somehow they'd be able to bring them back to life and send them out to do whatever they could to hold off the Primans if Avenger was crippled by the EMP torpedoes. But why stop with just the fighters?

  "Helm; max acceleration into the yard," Elco began, knowing he had just seconds left. "Lay in a straight course away from obstacles but keep us inside the tractor field. You're going to lose all controls in a second."

  Elco punched the direct line to his Chief Engineer, a feed that would broadcast through the entire engineering spaces. "Chief Fyr! Emergency-scram the reactors right now! No drill, no kidding. Kill 'em!"

  Then Elco waited. A full-on emergency scram only took a second to initiate. The idea was that if something inside the ship, whether energy cells, fuel lines or something similar, was about to completely let go, the ship could completely shut down and become a big floating armor pile, totally inert and nonreactive. He desperately hoped it would keep Avenger's systems from getting fried by the EMP if they were all unpowered. The problem was that with shields down, the Priman laser blasts would all impact the hull. If they'd mixed in some conventional torpedoes, they'd penetrate right through the hull as well. Engines were out, so there'd be no helm control. Emergency manual reversion of the maneuvering thruster pods would come back quickly, but it would be a bumpy ride.

  The bridge went dark with no fanfare or warning; just a few clicks as the light ballasts went dark and the decreasing revs of the ventilation and equipment cooling fans spinning down. The gravity plates would hold their charge for a few minutes even without a power source, but the bridge crew was going to have to buckle up, provided they survived the next couple of seconds.

  Elco felt the torpedo impacts and grimaced as he wondered what was happening to his ship. One, two, three times he felt the hull reverberate. The first two must have been the EMP torpedoes, because other than the initial explosion of the self-forging penetrator charge pushing whatever payload the torpedoes carried into the hull, there were no follow-up tremors. The third one, however, was most definitely a traditional penetrator backed up by a shaped charge, high explosive warhead, and it tore through Avenger with a vengeance.

  Captain Vol watched in morbid fascination as the Confed captain completely cut power to his ship. Vol understood in an instant what his adversary was trying to do; if there were no systems powered up to damage, the EMP torpedoes might very well have no critical effect on the ship. On the other hand, the darkened vessel was now closer to a crypt for the doomed Confed crew.

  Avenger's final turn presented her aft dorsal port quarter to the Priman ships and their weapons as she arced behind the moon that formed one end of the mothball shipyard. The three remaining torpedoes impacted on the aft dorsal portion of the hull, just after the rear torpedo battery.

  The first two detonated just before impact on the hull plates, explosives in the warhead forming a penetrating spear out of an alloy plate in a process known as a self-forging penetrator. This projectile was propelled ahead of the torpedo milliseconds before impact with the intent on fracturing or penetrating the plate armor. They were the new EMP design, and the second stage of the torpedo was focused on that effect. It was an armored spike designed to crash deep within the target before radiating an electronic payload.

  The third torpedo was a conventional high-explosive armor piercing device. The second stage, following the penetrator, was a large, high-explosive shaped charge. On detonation, the white hot plasma jetted out of the front of the torpedo body, liquefying even the robust Confed armor plates. The white-hot stream of super-heated metal raced into the ship, penetrating bulkheads, machinery, and crew. On the way, it created secondary explosions from spall and shrapnel damage, ignited oxygen-fed fires, and generally tore a great hole deep into the Confed ship.

  The explosion passed through the few outer decks and into Engine Room #2, the reaction chambers of which exited the aft end of the ship as the second hyperdrive engine exhaust cone. The actual mixing chambers and manifolds where the drive energy was first created were buried in an armored citadel in the deepest part of the ship, but the drive exhaust was still explosive and an uncontained reaction was as deadly a fate as a starship crew could ever hope to not face.

  The engine exploded, torn apart by the last energies of the incoming explosive charge from the Priman warhead. Machinery ripped apart, flying in all directions and causing even more damage. Finally, something ignited the energy stream coming from the main reaction chamber as it passed through the ever-expanding calamity that was Engine Room #2.

  The entire cavernous room was vaporized, and the energy had to go somewhere. The explosion shredded
the exhaust nozzle at the rear of the ship, while the remaining explosive force escaped out the bottom of the stricken ship, a short-lived oxygen-fed mushroom cloud of fire and high-speed debris ripping out through the underside of Avenger, a dozen frames aft of the hangar bays.

  Web surveyed the mess hall yet again. With nothing else to do other than study the compartment, after an hour had passed he imagined he could now find his way through the room blindfolded and hanging from the ceiling.

  He'd catalogued the pirates that stood watch over them. There was one on each door; one human and one Qualin. The human was the one who'd taken him to the cargo control center earlier, still wearing his EVA chest plate. That one was the real risk; Web could see it in the man's eyes. He'd probably killed people before, and if he hadn't, he was ready to start here.

  "Web," he heard his name whispered quietly. He recognized Halley's voice, and simply nodded a tiny bit so she knew he'd heard her.

  "Another problem," she stated simply.

  "Joy."

  "Walk with me."

  They casually made their way around the compartment separately but close enough together. There were some loose knots of crew, and some were even making passable attempts at conversation. Halley wanted him to see something, but he wasn't sure what. Then it dawned on him as they finished their circuit and came to a stop by the stim-caf carafes at the galley pass-through.

  "Captain and FO are on completely different sides of the compartment," he observed, and received an approving smile from Halley.

  "Exactly." She set her personal data pad on the counter's surface between them. "I've been monitoring the cargo pod exchanges," she said. "Video is completely disabled, not just blocked, so I can't hack in. However, I can still see the manifest data. Computer shows they've already removed three pods, so we should be down by three, right?"

  Web nodded dutifully, then glanced at her display. It showed the exact same number of pods as they'd started this leg with. "What, they're putting pods back on as they remove them?" he asked.

  "Your guess is as good as mine," she replied. "But this isn't a normal robbery, and my bad-news meter is creeping ever higher. Something's going on, and it's time we found out what it was. Look at all the little signs we've seen slowly, spaced apart; an unscheduled course correction, ship's guns dismantled early, pirates even using our company frequency. Speed the events up and mash them together, and something smells rotten."

  "Alright," Web said, eager to finally do something other than stand around consuming recycled oxygen. "What do we do?"

  "Well, you and the captain seem to be getting along so well, I think it's time you got him to tell you what was in those files you moved."

  "I thought of that," Web admitted, "but I'll need a terminal with hardwired access. Data pads won't cut it."

  Halley looked thoughtfully off at the bulkhead, gears turning. "In the meantime," she said distractedly, "I'm going to find out what the story is with those cargo pods and why our FO doesn't care what happens to them."

  "What's our play?" Web asked.

  "Whatever it needs to be, because the fact is we're covert operatives on the way to Callidor to put a rusty spike through the heart of the Priman invasion effort. Nothing can stop us from that goal."

  Web was still working on his strategy when he bumped back into Captain Two-Swords.

  "Captain," Web said, almost by way of apology. The captain looked at Web, then recognition dawned in his eyes and he motioned for Web to head to the end of an unoccupied table.

  "Mr. Barazian," the captain started as he hunched over the table on his elbows. "These men haven't come back for us, so it seems their cargo operations are going well. But I don't know what it means about my personal data buffer and safe."

  "Well," Web replied evenly, "I suppose that depended on what you thought they'd find. If all they're going to get out of the safe is money, then if they broke in there's no need to come get you. If they've failed or something in the safe made them mad, they'll be back to show us how unhappy they are. Same with that data you asked me to hide."

  "Is it secure?" Two-Swords asked, looking more guilty than ever in Web's eyes.

  "We need to talk about that," Web answered smoothly. "Your encryption is pretty good. Too good, in fact, to use a portable data pad like everyone here has to access it. I stashed it in some of the more obscure data storage directories on the ship, but to get at it either to copy, read, or delete it, we'll need a hardwired terminal."

  Captain Two-Swords deflated, the wind completely out of his sails. "How do you know about all this?" he asked cautiously.

  Web sensed the man wouldn't be thrilled if he thought he was come sort of military or police, so he went the other direction. "I used to work for a Fixer before I started working on freighters. You know the job?"

  Two-Swords nodded in understanding. "The person you call when you need something done. Can I ask what you did?"

  "You can ask, but I can't tell. I'm still on good terms with the man, and I'd hate for that to change. So, why don't we say I might be of some use to you with whatever problem it is that you have."

  Two-Swords was about to speak when the hatch swooshed open and the Trin who seemed to be the leader of the boarding party stomped in. He pointed at the captain and yelled.

  "You!" He then grabbed the sturdy and weathered slug-thrower on his hip and drew it, putting Two-Swords in his sights. "Everything has been going so well, I decided to catch up on old business. It's time to get us into that safe. Think carefully about your answer." The Trin also looked suspiciously at Web, and the barrel of the handgun began to drift over to the Confed officer. "I'm starting to think shooting your cargo man here would be a good motivator."

  Web stood up to get the pirate's attention. "We were talking about how to defeat the locks on the safe," Web said slowly, hands held straight down at his sides. "He thinks I can help get through the locks, but he didn't want to involve me and make me a target for your attention. But if it helps get this over with, I'll do whatever you need."

  The Trin almost grinned, then caught himself. "Smart idea, human. Both of you, get moving. We're headed to the captain's cabin."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The walk through the corridors took only a few minutes, which didn't give Web much time to consider his options. There was only the Trin and one other pirate with them, so Web was fairly happy with the odds if it came to a close quarters fight. Captain Two-Swords kept trying to steal glances at Web as they walked side by side, but Web didn't want to draw any extra attention so he didn't make eye contact.

  Finally, they arrived at the captain's cabin. The hatch was already open; the locks had been bashed, pried off, and the locking pins had been torched away, the door then forced into the sliding pocket in the bulkhead and welded into place. These folks were not ones for subtlety and apparently weren't very patient, either, Web decided.

  The Trin motioned them inside with his gun, and Web and the captain obliged. The place had already been ransacked, clothes and various other items thrown all over the place as drawers, shelves, and every nook and cranny was investigated. They'd finally found the safe under a floor panel by the captain's desk, though attempts to guess the combination or torch it open had been unsuccessful.

  "Must have something pretty nice in there for the company to use an alloy like that," the Trin stated ominously.

  Web quickly studied the safe's face and decided it was probably made of a layered armor similar to that used on Confed ships. They wouldn't be able to cut through the door. In fact, it would be easier to just chop out the bulkhead and decking around it and take the whole thing back to a place where they could spend the next few days grinding away at it.

  "So open it," the pirate commanded, "or I kill you both." He held his gun at waist level and pointed it at Two-Swords.

  The captain turned to Web. "You'll need to get root access to the security protocols on my terminal," he said softly, then pointed to his desk. Web walked over, but stayed
standing, leaning over the desk instead of sitting in the chair. There was no way he was going to put himself at the disadvantage of being seated while a man had a gun to his head.

  Web gestured to open the interface, then started. The user interface was graphical, but eventually he got into the admin levels, and from there he spent the next minute gesturing, typing commands onto the keypad, and even creating an admin voice access for himself as the pirates watched on with interest.

  "Man with skills like yours could make a nice living doing other things than running freight," the Trin said without inflection.

  "I'm not so sure about your industry's retirement plan," Web said cautiously. This man was the sort you had to earn the respect of if you wanted to avoid being a victim. He needed to show he was confident enough to stand up for himself but not hot-headed enough to seek conflict. But the pirates understood strength the confidence, so that's what he'd do.

  "Who wants to get old?" the pirate countered with a grin that spelled trouble.

  The computer beeped twice, and asked for Web's admin passphrase. "Walk the plank," Web replied with a grin of his own, and the computer's screen changed again, now showing green icons for every ship system and file library onboard.

  "On second thought," mused the pirate, "maybe we'll just make you an apprentice and take you with us."

  Web ignored him as best he could. "Captain, I have access. Now what?"

  "Go to the security directories and find the file for secure onboard storage. This compartment is designated F-23A. I've never done it myself because I don't possess your computer skills, but I know once you're in you can find and disable the yard overrides on the safe. Once that's done, my code will work regardless of whether we're docked or not."