Charles Gannon - Raising Caine

Damn it, I’m going to sound like a madman reporting this contact, but— “Ms. Tagawa, is there a comm relay platform that we can send to from our current position?”

“No, sir. All ancillary comm and sensor platforms were seeded near or at the approaches to planet two, where the fleet engaged the Arat Kur. Nothing’s been deployed out here yet.”

And why should there be? We plan on leaving Arat Kur space as soon as possible. But that meant there was no one to alert, no one to call for help. SS Arbitrage was all alone. With one chilling exception. “Ms. Tagawa, please hail the contact. All frequencies, all languages and codes. Don’t forget to include the Accord code.”

As she did so, Piet turned from the helm. “Jorge, whoever is on that ship is not interested in talking with us.”

Velho nodded. “I agree.”

“Then why try?”

“Because we know nothing about them. So any reply gives us more knowledge than we have now.” He turned toward Ayana. “Response?”

“No response, sir. And I don’t think we’re going to get one. The contact’s telemetry suggests intentions that, as Mr. Brackman speculates, preclude communication.”

Jorge felt his heavy brows bunching against each other as he frowned. “What is its telemetry?”

“Range, closing; bearing, constant.”

It took a moment for Velho to recall what that crisp definition actually meant. “It’s going to ram us?”

Tagawa shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Or board us.”

“That’s impossible.” He hesitated, remembering some of the stories that had come out of the Epsilon Indi system just after the war. “Well, it’s nearly impossible.”

Ayana nodded. “Yes, sir, that is the conventional wisdom.” She pointed into the plot again. “But this craft is wholly unconventional. I am not sure the same rules apply. And it is difficult to conjecture why a ship that can withstand immersion in the upper stratosphere of a gas giant and capable of such extraordinary thrust would expend itself in a ramming attack. Which leaves one logical alternative: she is attempting a rendezvous. And if we refuse to let her dock…” Tagawa’s voice trailed off; the conclusion of her analysis was inescapable.

Piet cleared his throat. “So: what do we do? I’d like to suggest running like hell, but we don’t have ten percent of that hull’s acceleration.”

“First,” Velho announced at the end of a sigh, “we start screaming for help.”

Tagawa raised one eyebrow. “We are in the communications shadow of the gas giant, sir.”

“Yes, our lascom is useless, but if we start broadcasting a wide-dispersal distress signal now, we could reach any covert patrols or classified microsensors that might be lurking out here. In the meantime, we’ll give our visitors something to worry about.”

“Such as?” Piet sounded doubtful.

“Such as having to work to catch us, even if we can’t outrun them. Max burn on the main drive, Piet.”

“Sir,” began Piet, whose sudden formality meant he was getting seriously scared, “as per your orders when we cut thrust to effect retrieval of the tankers and skimmers, our plants are now in power-saving mode. We can’t reach full thrust until we get to eighty-five percent of maximum power plant output, and that will take at least fifteen minutes.”

“I am aware. Maximum means you get me as much thrust as you can, as fast as you can. Also, accelerate the skimmers and put them into a close slingshot orbit, the closest they’ll take without being pulled in. And Ayana, I want them running their transponders in distress mode, nonstop.”

She nodded, understanding. “So that the intruder must choose between chasing us or catching the skimmers before they get around the gas giant’s far terminator and beyond its broadcast shadow.”

“Yes, and in the meantime, I want the point-defense fire mounts brought to bear. At the intruder’s rate of closure, we’ll be able to use them as ship-to-ship weapons in about eight minutes. Now, where’s Mr. Kozakowski?”

“Just arrived, sir,” came the corporate factotum’s voice from the hatchway.

Jorge turned, nodded tightly and wondered how long the unctuous owl of a man had been listening just beyond the hatchway. “You received an update on our situation?”

“Which situation do you mean, Captain? The umbilical hoses or the unidentified intruder?”

“For now, our concern is solely with the latter. Your technicians are to meet ours back at the cargo freight module, just forward of the cargo cradles.”

“Very well. What is their task?”

Kozakowski is the last human I want to reveal this to, but now I have no choice. “When we commandeered the ship, we took the precaution of not just refitting it as a tanker. We added some cargo modules of our own.”

“I have noticed.”

Snide bastard . “Did you also notice that one of them is autodeployable?”

Kozakowski frowned. “You mean it is a cargo module that can be triggered to release its payload into free space? That is usually a military variant, is it not?”

“It most certainly is. As a precaution, we were tasked to carry a small number of ship-to-ship drones in the autodeployable module. But it needs to be powered up and patched into our command system, first.”

“So we have some real weapons?” Piet almost shouted.

Velho smiled. “As soon as we activate the module’s integral subsystems, we can send out a little fleet of our own.”

Kozakowski’s smile was dim: he was clearly unhappy that this information had been withheld from him. “I shall get right on it, sir.” He nodded and moved toward the hatchway that led off the bridge and into the keel-following transport tube.

“Mr. Kozakowski, can’t you coordinate your technicians from up here?”

“Perhaps, but many of them are, well, suspicious of your prize crew. And although your personnel are obviously the experts when it comes to an autodeployable cargo module, mine are familiar with the particulars, and idiosyncrasies, of the Arbitrage . So I think it wisest that I be present to ensure that my crewpersons cooperate smoothly with yours, given that our lives are at stake. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely. Go at once.”

His smile still wooden, Kozakowski left the bridge.

— Just as Ayana’s unflappably calm voice cracked under the stress of an urgent report: “Intruder’s energy levels are spiking. Our hull sensors detect a low-power laser painting us: they’re acquiring ladar target lock, sir. And probably readying a beam weapon of some kind. I recommend—”

And then the world wrenched violently sideways.

“Results?” demanded Nezdeh, glancing at Sehtrek.

“UV laser blisters one and two have eliminated Arbitrage ’s facing point defense fire batteries. Marginal damage to surrounding structures of the command section.”

“Was the bridge hit?” Nezdeh’s tone was sharp. As she’d intended.

“N-no…Srina Perekmeres,” Sehtrek assured her hurriedly.

Tegrese hovered eagerly over her weapons panels. “If the Aboriginals tumbled their ship, they could bring their navigational laser to bear. Is it advisable for us to—?”

“We will need the Arbitrage ’s nav laser ourselves. Besides, it bears upon too limited an arc to be of any danger to us. It is designed to engage targets at ranges of multiple light-seconds, but also within a very narrow forward cone. What of Arbitrage ’s communications arrays?”

“Both primary and auxiliary arrays have been eliminated by blisters three and four. Blisters five and six remain ready in PDF mode.”