Fragments sf-6 Read online

  "That’s one big repo. Wonder what the pay’s like.

  “Let’s just say big.”

  “So, um,” Hatter started as he inspected his fighter.

  “Yeah?” Buster prompted. She hated when he started a thought and just left it hanging for seconds or minutes at a time.

  “So this disruption pulse, the one they used to kill our wormhole, if it can burst a bubble that big, with that much directional force, could they like put out a sun?”

  “Nope, that’s way off scale.”

  “Off scale?”

  Buster shook her head and replied; "Okay, disrupting a wormhole is like blowing out a candle. Disrupting a sun is like putting out a fusion reaction bare handed."

  "Ah, gotcha. Okay so how did they find something moving through a wormhole? I mean, I could do the math, but there's always the curve, you know? A chance that your target isn't moving in a straight line or the space you're targeting is so different on the inside that you can't predict what'll happen if you try to pop it."

  "Wormholes don't move."

  "Yeah, I know. Triton’s wormholes are created ahead and behind, compressing space between and the ship moves through, blah, blah. But how did they find us? I mean, Ash's pretty good at the stick and everything."

  "They found us because we're moving very slowly with only half our main thrusters and because they probably have a micro wormhole generator that was able to extend their scanning range," Buster replied as she started climbing into her cockpit.

  "Sounds expensive."

  "Yup, it's expensive. I don't know if Triton has that kind of tech."

  "But we just got a hyper transmitter, same thing, right?"

  Hood dropped into his cockpit seat and sighed. "It's in how you use it. If I set you up with a hyper transmitter that could pop a thousand micro wormholes a second would you know how to pair it with the sensors so you could take that many pictures?"

  "No, but I bet Finn would. Guy's some kind of genius."

  "I've met him, he's a hard working tech with a good head on his shoulders. Chief Grady says; 'go crawl down that deep, dark shaft.' and he says; 'yessir. Can I bring my bed roll, sir?' You've got to respect his dedication. I don't think he sleeps either, just lives on stims and meal bars."

  "Sounds like he made an impression," Hood teased. "Planning a trip to the techie berths?"

  All three of them were silent as they started their pre-flight diagnostics and their cockpit canopies sealed.

  Buster couldn't help but feel strange being all alone in the two seat Uriel fighter. "You know I don't fraternize. Just because Captain seems to think giving in to our hormones aboard ship will help us relax doesn't mean I have to follow suit."

  "What's wrong? Have a flameout with someone on your last ship?"

  Buster would have hated her callsign if it didn't sound so good. Sonya had been named thusly after waking up the Wing Commander and reporting evidence of nocturnal activities near her bunk. He had her point out the offending bunks and all he did was ensure that the privacy curtains sound dampening systems were activated then went back to bed after giving her a grin and a thumb’s up. She wasn’t aware of Wing Commander Minh Chu’s offbeat sense of humour until then.

  She was embarrassed and irritated by his solution. Hatter, of all people, was the one to point out that ship policy allowed fraternization while off duty. He spread the word that she'd bust couples sharing a bunk if they left their sound dampeners off or curtains open. Before she knew it, Buster had been laser etched onto the side of her starfighter. "I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer, Hatter."

  "It wasn't very dignified in the first place, but whatever."

  Their diagnostic cycles completed and the fighters were moved down from the track into the punter. In the dim light all Buster could see through her cockpit window was the thick launch bay hatch.

  "I know why you took me on this mission, I'm your Sensor Intercept Officer and an experienced pilot, but why did you snag Hatter?" asked Hood on a private channel.

  "Hatter's got reflexes beyond the curve and he’s a savant at compression mechanics. He calculated a wormhole manually for his final qualification and he's got his FTL ticket."

  "Wow. I haven't calculated a jump manually since college. Even then, it was table top, not in a sim. How'd he get his ticket anyway?"

  "Ask Ronin. Something in his file convinced him he could be trusted with a fighter equipped with a faster than light system. Hell, he's even cleared for shuttle and drop ship service."

  "I'm not cleared for drop ship service. I wonder what Ronin knows about him that we're not cleared for?"

  "This is Ronin we're talking about. He's a friendly mystery wrapped in a weird little wise package. It's like flying beside a Zen master who's one bottle short of a six pack."

  Hatter burst out laughing. "But I think everyone likes him, and he can lick anyone in a simulator while spouting off proverbs. He's a rare one."

  "Guys? My comm still working?" Hatter asked on the public channel.

  "It's working fine, we're just deep in quiet contemplation," Buster replied.

  "Couldn't help but notice there's no departure time set on this mission. Know how long we'll be here?"

  Buster checked her command and control unit for status information from the bridge. "Looks like the Triton’s about to start decelerating, we could punt at any time."

  Chapter 5

  Landing

  The wounded on the bridge had been tended to, several of the staff had been replaced and the atmosphere was quiet, tense. Only a few small sections of the deck glowed red, emergency inertial dampeners had been installed to replace most of the burned out units. Everyone knew that there were three battlecruisers searching for them, that they were moving at great speed on a course that took them in a wide curve, and that the safe haven they sought could be more dangerous than their attackers.

  Oz watched as the broad scale hologram began to display the Triton in relation to a pair of planetoids and a massive cluster of large asteroids behind.

  "We have to slow down," Laura advised from her field control station.

  "How much?"

  "A lot more, relative speed of under one hundred klicks per second before we enter the dust cloud."

  "Panloo?"

  The nafalli finished listening to her navigator and nodded. "It will be close, I'm increasing our reverse thrust now."

  "We're going to show up on their scanners like a small comet," Agameg advised. "They'll have our exact position."

  "What about when we're deeper inside the micro-nebula?"

  "Laura is right. If we are not moving slowly enough for our gravitational repulsion shield to move the dust away from the hull it will cause friction and we will look much like this, only smaller," Agameg brought up a hologram of the asteroid they were looking to touch down on. The leading side was red hot, behind it trailed scorching particles. "It's not actually a real comet, only a large asteroid in a group that's moving through the nebula and colliding with dust and gas, causing friction and a great deal of heat."

  "What kind of dust is it? Any chance of mass combustion?"

  "No, it's only an interstellar dust cloud. In nine years it'll be absorbed by a planetoid."

  "Lucky we found it here then," Oz watched the holodisplays as a counter came up, indicating that they'd be entering the miniature nebula in less than ten seconds. With a glance he could see they were still moving a little too fast. He looked to Liam Grady's holographic representation to his right. "How are the thrusters?"

  "Operating below tolerances, but straining. I can't give you more power than Panloo is using."

  "Long range projectiles incoming," Agameg announced as he marked over fifty incoming missiles on the main tactical hologram.

  Oz looked at the shield status and was satisfied that they read at ninety three percent of full charge. "No evasive manoeuvres, just decelerate so we don't turn into a great big flare when we hit the dust."

  The
projectiles swept past the Triton, the closest of them came within five kilometres. "I just confirmed, they're using hyperspace torpedoes."

  "It's like these guys are collecting a bounty on our hull and we just don't matter. Has this crew built hyperspace torpedoes before?"

  "No, there's an order for manufacturing to make them, but they're backlogged," Agameg reported.

  "Damn."

  "Do you want me to move them up in the queue?"

  "No, we're better off evading and having the manufacturing crews help with work outside the ship. I just hope they can't get a fix on us after we've taken cover."

  "Sir, if those torpedoes struck-"

  "I know. We'd have breaches across the ship. Whoever launched that group of fifty isn't too happy right about now. That's an expensive miss."

  The trio of battlecruisers were incoming just under the speed of light. The tactical information accompanying them informed him that they were using hyperspace to catch up.

  "They're trying to get to us before we enter the dust cloud," Oz muttered. "They're coming in too fast for evasive manoeuvres. Fire what you can Agameg, no torpedoes, they'll be too slow."

  "Yes sir,"

  The ship was enveloped by the thick nebula and everyone could hear the inertial dampeners strain for a moment as the Triton met the resistant field of particles.

  "We're flaring. Slow down," Laura advised. "Unless you want to sandblast through several millimetres of our outer hull."

  "Thruster three's pylon is showing above tolerance stress. We can't keep this up," Engineering Chief Grady's hologram announced.

  "Ordering Gunnery Chief Frost to fire high velocity slugs for thirty seconds," Agameg announced. "Most of them should make it through the edge of the cloud and have a good chance of striking the lead battlecruiser unless they change course."

  "Price, you sure this mark is right? We're firing into open space," Chief Frost said over the tactical comm.

  "Use his mark, Chief." Oz reinforced. The Triton finally slowed down enough so their gravitational shielding was able to repel the nebula's thick dust and the impact shields began to recover.

  "Aye, on the mark."

  "Chief Vercelli, launch our three birds," Oz ordered.

  "Aye. Punting in five seconds."

  The asteroid grouping and their three planetoids were far beneath, and Oz couldn't help but suck air in through his teeth at the sight of the monolithic fireballs as they closed in. "Can we land on this trajectory?"

  "It's fine," Panloo's navigator barked over his shoulder. "We'll have to accelerate at the last moment so we strike our landing coordinates properly."

  "Don't let the computer do all the work, recheck your course as you plot," Oz ordered.

  "Easy big guy, I think he's got it," Jason reassured with a whisper.

  Oz watched as the tactical display switched to short range. Their long range sensors couldn't read through the cloud. The Uriel fighters launched and made haste to the opposite edge of the cloud. More information on the cluster of asteroids moving beneath the Triton was becoming available. The final course was plotted for them to land on the flattest space available on the rear of one of the largest flaming cosmic bodies and he immediately started rechecking the navigator's calculations. "If you think we're in bad shape now, imagine what a minor misjudgement could do to us."

  "I know, but you've got to trust your staff. I've seen this helm team's scores, they're good."

  Oz finished rechecking the calculations and nodded. "The math is solid, I'll give him that."

  "All guns, cease fire," Agameg ordered calmly from the tactical station.

  The Triton’s railguns stopped firing as she manoeuvred through a layer of agitated, flaming dust. The lumbering carrier moved behind the broadest asteroid. It was just ahead, and several members of the bridge staff braced themselves as the main thrusters fired hard to regain enough speed to make contact.

  The front of the ship was pointed directly at their landing site. It loomed closer and closer until Panloo finally stopped accelerating and rotated the large carrier so her heavy landing struts were in position to make contact.

  Oz clamped his jaw shut as he watched the ship drift off course slightly.

  "We could dose you with something, calm you down a bit maybe?" Jason whispered, smiling impishly.

  Oz shot him a stern look then returned his focus to the navigational data displayed on the centre bulkhead. The representation of what was going on around the Triton bathed the bridge in flickering red as the faux window displays showed the view of flaming particles all around the ship and the asteroid they followed. They drifted gently back on course, the distance reading changed from kilometres to meters. Their speed reset so it was relative to the asteroid, not to the field, and Oz couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as it switched from hundreds of kilometres per second to sixty three kilometres per hour.

  With a low, thrumming sound the Triton’s undercarriage touched the asteroid and Panloo's navigator engaged the drills and clamps that would secure them to the asteroids surface.

  Oz glanced to Agameg and checked the compositional readings of the asteroid for himself. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the issyrian doing the same in just as much of a rush. "It's not going to work," he stated plainly.

  "We're drilling thirty meters in, we'll be secure," reassured Panloo's copilot.

  Oz checked the readings for himself and saw how loosely packed that side of the asteroid was. "Get ready to maintain a drift Panloo. Those makeshift moorings won't hold us. Stop drilling."

  "They'll hold."

  "If you drill and kick up debris when the mooring posts shift the repair teams might not survive it. Stop. That's an order."

  Panloo's navigator irritably shut down the undercarriage drilling systems and started reversing them slowly. "Funny, I've never seen you in the sim doing my job," he muttered.

  "You just lost your leisure materializer rations for a week." Oz growled.

  Panloo's navigator whirled in his seat. "I can't help that the slug handling tactical can't remember to run a topographical analysis before we touch down! You should know better than to put a shifter in charge of weaponry and combat sensors!"

  "Stow the attitude, mister. We're not discussing his performance. Report to me after your shift."

  "What? Why?"

  "If you have a problem with a member of my staff you have a problem with me, and I settle my problems off the bridge. Now do your duty, navigator," Oz ordered flatly from the command seat.

  Everyone busied themselves, no one wanted to be caught gaping. Agameg couldn't help but let a smile creep across his thin lips.

  "Tim's lucky you're here," Jason whispered, nodding at the copilot as he turned back towards his control. "Jake would have taken his station and shot him."

  "You think?"

  "He doesn't tolerate racism."

  "Neither do I."

  "He enjoys shooting people a lot more and he finished the nav qualifier for the Triton last week."

  "Good point." Oz finished double checking the ship's status and cleared his throat. "All right, we're going to concentrate on repairs. Double shifts and double quick. Chief Grady, how are our chances of getting those main thrusters installed?"

  "It's not a good idea," Liam Grady's hologram answered.

  "What problems can we expect when you're finished?"

  "We're sure to get contamination in several key parts of the system. That could lead to sudden power drops, overheating in parts of the assembly and accelerated internal corrosion."

  "But you can burn some of the debris out of the thrusters and service them from the inside once they're installed, right?"

  Liam's nodding holographic avatar appeared in the tertiary command seat. "I'll get the teams working. They'll be in place within the hour and connected in less than two. We'll be servicing those thruster pods for weeks though."

  "You know if there was another way-"

  "I know, we need speed i
f we're going to get clear of those battlecruisers. I'll update you with our progress in an hour. All repair and maintenance teams have been dispatched."

  "Good. Let's get patched up so we can make a run for it."

  Chapter 6

  New Versailles

  “This system is corrupt. Permissions have been rewritten.” The various displays throughout Regent Tower spat back at anyone trying to access any information or function. Analysts across the city attempted to combat the aggressive digital entity as it spread like a drop of ink in water.

  The bright sea of light that was New Versailles flickered and quaked as autonomous functions were retasked and shut down for purposes that were known to only the originator of the infection, Gabriel Meunez.

  The traffic lanes crisscrossing the sky halted, leaving millions hovering. Impatient night commuters tried to break their lanes, to make their way around the hundreds of kilometres of still traffic only to be incinerated by orbital defence platforms.

  For the first time in decades a battle ship descended from orbit and docked with the very top of Regent Tower. The long combat vessel made the smooth, cleanly designed building look lopsided and top heavy, as though it had grown an undesirable, geometrically out of place appendage. Not a single shot was fired at the invader as it cast its narrow shadow over the city below.

  There were no shock troopers heralding his arrival. There was no need to damage the buildings exterior or interior. Gabriel walked down the debarkation hall from his ship straight into the upper docking centre.

  Synthetic valets decorated with red vests and ties painted on their torsos watched Gabriel as he passed and took positions behind. Their blue and green eyes gleamed, as though they were eager, searching for something. Guards in combat armour burst through side doors, moving to block his passage into the main building with assault rifles at the ready. “Halt! This is your only warning!”

  Gabriel ignored them. Tears rolled down his cheeks, a grin split his face unnaturally and the veins in his neck, forehead and temples stood out on his flushed skin. “How do you want to die today?” he breathed. Every display in the city echoed his question.