Graham Paul - The battle of Devastation reef

It had to work. He needed to be fit enough to return to active duty. He had a job to do. He had promised to make the Hammers pay for all the pain they had inflicted, and taking Tufayl and the rest of the dreadnought force into battle was the first step in keeping those promises.

Hammer Warship

Penhaligon,

in deepspace

“Captain, sir, officer in command.”

Lieutenant Commander Kaya, Penhaligon ’s captain, snapped awake. “Yes?”

“Flash pinchcomm signal from Fleet, sir. Your eyes only.”

“On my way.”

“Kraa damn it,” Kaya mumbled as he climbed out of his bunk, what now? Fleet had been on his back from the word go, the entire patrol an endless sequence of “hurry up and do this” orders sending Penhaligon chasing one shadow after another. But a flash precedence signal-usually reserved for enemy contact reports and other urgent traffic-well, that was a first. After a brief struggle with a reluctant shipsuit and pair of uncooperative boots, he made his way to Penhaligon’s combat information center.

Kaya’s irritation soon vanished. He read the signal one more time just be to be sure he understood it. He half smiled. He did, and it was just what the crew of the Penhaligon needed: a short, sharp operation. He glanced around the combat information center. The on-watch crew avoided his eyes with studious care. Kaya’s smile broadened; he was pleased to see the hungry anticipation on their faces. Bored they might be, but by Kraa, they wanted action just as much as he did.

Kaya picked up the old-fashioned hand mike, flicking a switch to patch it into the ship’s main broadcast. “Lieutenant Yasuhiko to the combat information center,” he said, his voice booming through every compartment on the ship. “Ops planning team to the wardroom. I say again, ops planning team to the wardroom.”

The commander of Penhaligon ’s marine detachment arrived promptly. Kaya watched Lieutenant Yasuhiko stride into the combat information center. The marine was a lean, dark-faced man dressed in an immaculate dark-green ship-suit and well-used combat boots polished to a soft shine. Kaya liked and respected Yasuhiko; he trusted the man to get things done and done right the first time.

Yasuhiko weaved his way through the combat information center’s maze of workstations. He snapped to attention in front of his captain. “Sir?”

“Have a look at this,” Kaya said as he authorized Yasuhiko’s access to the pinchcomm signal. Yasuhiko flicked his microvid screen down to read the message; he did not take long.

“Seems straightforward enough, sir,” Yasuhiko said, pushing his microvid back up. “Kraa knows, we’ve practiced deepspace boarding operations often enough. The target, this VIP, Professor Saadak. Someone that important will be in the ship’s knowledge base, as will the Galaxy Queen . I’ll download the files and get my boys started. We don’t have a huge amount of time. But a body snatch from a Fed mership should not be too difficult. Unless …” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Unless Fleet intell-” Kaya stopped himself in time. Ambitious captains never criticized Fleet. Anyway, he did not need to say any more. There wasn’t a Hammer spacer or marine who had not been screwed around by poor intelligence at some time or other.

Yasuhiko worked it out, anyway. He grinned, his mouth a predatory slash of hungry anticipation. “Maybe this is the one they get right, sir.”

Kaya smiled back. “I hope so. Go to it. I’ll see you in the wardroom after you’ve briefed your team.” Yasuhiko’s lust for action showed, and Kaya was happy to see it.

“Sir!”

Yasuhiko turned and left. Kaya climbed out of his seat to follow him, suppressing an urge to laugh out loud at the look on the officer in command’s face. The young lieutenant in charge of Penhaligon ’s on-watch crew struggled not to ask him what the signal actually said. Kraa! The man was hopping from one foot to the other, a pained grimace betraying his frustration. Kaya patted him on the shoulder when he walked past.

“Patience, my son, patience,” he whispered. “All good things …”

“Captain, sir. Comsat jammer on station, on standby, all systems confirmed nominal.”

“Roger.” Kaya nodded his satisfaction. Penhaligon ’s patrol might have been a long and fruitless one so far, but that had not diminished the professionalism of his crew. Which was all very well, but if the spooks had gotten it wrong-an all too common event, he would have to say-all that professionalism would be a complete waste of time and energy. He settled down into his seat to await his target’s arrival.

The wait was a short one.

“Command, sensors. We have a positive gravitronics intercept. Estimated drop bearing Red 30 Up 10. One vessel. Gravity wave pattern suggests pinchspace transition imminent. Designated hostile track 456001.”

“Command, roger.” He turned to his operations officer. “Activate comsat jammer.”

“Ops, roger, activating. Stand by … jammer nominal. All mership distress, calling, and data frequencies are jammed.”

“Command, roger.”

“Command, operations. Drop datum passed to assault landers. Stand by … landers on vector to intercept.”

“Roger.”

Surreptitiously crossing his fingers, Kaya forced himself to relax. The comsat jammers were new and worryingly unreliable, like all new equipment. Worse, they were in short supply; Penhaligon carried only the one. He would have been much happier with three or four out there to guarantee that a barrage of electronic noise would overwhelm his hapless target’s bleatings for help. Provided that his only jammer worked, nothing the Galaxy Queen transmitted would make it through to the satellites that sent ship arrival and departure data back to the FedWorld Traffic Coordination Center back on Terranova. So his fingers were crossed for good reason: If the jammer failed even for a few seconds, the game would be over-even the dumbest mership captain could identify a Hammer warship-and the damned Feds would know what Penhaligon had been up to; considering there was an armistice in force …

“Command, sensors. Estimate drop datum at Red 30 Up 12, range 15,000 kilometers.”

The encounter geometry might have been better, but not by much, Kaya realized exultantly. Clearly, the mership captain did not trust his own navigation: Galaxy Queen was about to drop into normalspace a long way short of Setianto Reef. That would give the assault landers plenty of time to intercept the mership before she crossed the reef’s gravity rip and jumped back into the safety of pinchspace.

“Command, sensors. Track 456001 dropping. Datum confirmed Red 30 Up 12, range 13,000 kilometers. Vector consistent with the flight plan filed by Galaxy Queen.”

“Command, roger.”

A transient flare of ultraviolet announced the target’s arrival; Kaya sat back to watch the operation unfold. Truth was, he did not have a lot to do. Success-or failure-now lay in the hands of Lieutenant Yasuhiko and his marines.

“Command, sensors. Hostile track 456001 has dropped on datum. Stand by identification … sir, ship is positively confirmed as FedWorlds registered mership Galaxy Queen.”

“Confidence?”

“One hundred percent, sir. Optical beacon is squawking correct ship ID, confirmed by hull registration, dentology, and radio frequency intercepts. Target is Galaxy Queen.”

“Roger that,” Kaya said. It would not do for Yasuhiko and his marines to tear the wrong ship apart in their hunt for the hapless Professor Saadak. Embarrassing for Fleet but terminal for his career.