Jonathan Howard - Katya's War

The tactical display was replaced by a sonar image generated by the drone emitting a complex sequence of active pings across a spectrum of frequencies in a sixty degree cone. The returns were instantly processed and presented as a startlingly precise virtual model on screen. It was like looking at the actual structure in clear air, albeit painted in shades of red, yellow, and blue to represent differing materials. The rock of the hillside was blue, the concrete emplacement in its side red, and the metal of the docking positions yellow. But what should have been clean, hard lines of the construction were crumbled and askew.

“They’re ruined,” said Katya under her breath.

“Have you heard the news recently, Katya?” said Kane in so casual a voice that she didn’t realise he was talking to her for a moment. She shook herself from her reverie.

“When I can. It’s hard to avoid.”

“Then you know of the Federal Maritime Authority’s recent great victory over the craven, sneaking scum of the Yagizba Enclaves?”

She thought back to the story she had mentioned to Sergei when they’d been at Mologa. “The spy base? That’s it?” She looked more keenly at the sonar image. To cause that sort of damage, it must have come under sustained attack with some very heavy weapons.

“That’s it. Thank heavens the FMA were able to find it and save you all from such a nest of assassins and saboteurs.” Kane spoke tonelessly, as if reciting a news story in his sleep. His eyes never once left the image of the ruin.

“It’s a real mess, sir,” said the sensors officer. “I’m filtering out returns from tumbled concrete fragments and there’s a lot of wreck contamination in the water.”

“We can’t dock, captain,” added the first officer. She entered some data on her station and an overlay appeared on the main screen showing a wireframe representation of what the docking area should have looked like superimposed upon the sonar image. The two images had little in common. “Only Dock Two isn’t covered in debris, but the outer door is buckled. Probably the inner one too.”

Katya swallowed hard as fear fluttered through her. No submariner likes to hear of a hull breach.

Kane breathed slowly out through his nostrils as he regarded the scene. “Forget the frontal approach, then. Plan B. Sensors, take the drone around to the secondary lock. Helm, take us around wide and clear. Don’t crowd the drone.”

The drone set off on a trip around the drowned hill. On the main display, the sonar image returned to the tactical map view and Katya could see the drone was making for a location on the far side of the feature marked Aux.Lock . The Vodyanoi followed slowly, crabbing around the waters above the hillside on its lateral impellers. The drone reached Aux.Lock long before the submarine did, and was already building a sonar model of the location by the time the Vodyanoi was in position five hundred metres behind it.

In contrast to the image of the main locks, this one was clean and well-defined. “No damage, sir,” said the sensors officer, stating the obvious. “The Feds never found this.”

“But,” said Kane, “it’s only an auxiliary lock. Too small for us.” He glanced at Katya and seemed to read her thoughts. “Yes, a minisub like the Lukyan could make it, but there’s no power on the lock doors. Is she fitted with an external bus arm at the moment?”

Minisubs were the multirole vessels of Russalka’s seas, capable of most jobs, but only if they were fitted for them.

“No,” said Katya. “It’s all been cargo work recently. She has the lighting array and one small manipulator arm on her at the moment, mainly because there’s nowhere else to store the array, and the arm’s a bastard to remove. No power gear, though.”

“Don’t suppose we’ve got one in stores, have we, Number One?” Kane asked his first officer.

She took a moment to pull up a list of inventory, but from the way her head started shaking before she was halfway through searching, she was already sure of the answer. “No, sir. I don’t think we’ve ever carried one compatible with a minisub. We have a man-portable unit, but it won’t have any of the automatic locking mechanisms a sub’s would. It wouldn’t work, even mounted on a manipulator.”

“Right,” said Kane. Apparently the answer came as no surprise to him, and he had already moved onto a new plan. “Nothing for it. Prep four ADS units, please.”

“With MMUs, sir?”

“Gods, yes. I wasn’t planning on walking. And break that power unit out of stores. I don’t fancy manually pumping the airlock dry, either.”

“Understood. Who’s going, captain?”

“Me, obviously, because I love risking my life. Ms Kuriakova here, also obviously, as she’s the one this is all being done for.”

“What? Me?” Katya looked at him as if he’d just ordered her shot.

“Well, yes, you. Why do you…”

“No. I mean, an ADS? Me? You want me to go outside?”

“Yes. You in an ADS. You could try swimming over there in your underwear, I suppose, but I wouldn’t rate your chances of making it.”

Katya was not in the mood for jokes; as far as she could see, sending her out in an atmospheric diving suit — an ADS — was tantamount to a death sentence anyway. “I… I can’t,” she stammered. “I’m not rated. No training. I’m not certified.”

Kane frowned. “Russalkin hydrophobia rears its ugly head again. I have to say, Katya, I’m surprised. After the things you’ve done, I really didn’t expect a drop of water to bother you unduly.”

“A drop… A drop of water? It’s Russalka, Kane! It’s the whole planet! The whole thing wants to kill us every day! Every single day! And you want to go for a stroll out there?”

“Heavens, no. That’s why I’ve asked for manned-manoeuvre units to be prepared, too. We’re going over there in style, like merpeople. Big, scary, jet-propelled armoured merpeople.” A thought occurred to him, and he smiled suddenly, “Like real Russalki and Vodyanois!” He noted this did not modify her attitude in the slightest, and the smile wavered. “Little cultural reference there. Thought you might have appreciated it, but never mind.”

“Ms Kuriakova.” The First Officer, Ocello, had risen from her chair and joined them. “You don’t need to operate your MMU. We can control it remotely from here. You saw how good Mr Sahlberg is with a drone — you would be in very safe hands.”

Sahlberg turned at the mention of his name, and managed a nod that was both modest and reassuring.

In truth, Katya was beginning to feel reassured about the whole endeavour. She would be placing her life in the hands of the Vodyanoi ’s crew, but they were very probably the best and most experienced crew on Russalka. They’d fought for Terra against Russalka, and then spent the next ten years successfully running and hiding from a concerted Federal hunt. Yes, they’d had Yagizban help, but that was still a very long way short of invulnerability when a pack of FMA shipping protection vessels were hot on your trail.

Katya took a deep breath. “OK. OK. Just… don’t get me killed.”

“There,” said Kane encouragingly. “That’s the can-do, two-fisted, afraid-of-nothing Katya I know. Very nearly.”

Katya ignored the snipe, however well meant it was, and said, “Who’s going in the other two suits?”

“Me,” said Tasya.

“No,” said Kane. “Not you.”

“What do you mean, Kane?” she said, her tone dangerously calm. “That is a Yagizban facility. I have more right than anyone else on this boat to go there.”

“That is as maybe, Tasya. I’m just… Forgive me, Tasya, but I’m worried that you may lose your temper when you’re actually in there, when you see what’s over there. You’re dangerous enough when you’re calm. I don’t want to have to deal with you if you lose control.”