The silver fleet the com.., p.132
The Silver Fleet: The Complete Series, page 132
I bet he can’t wait for my skin graft program to get under way, Winterson reflected. That should be enough to keep me out of his hair for the short term.
That way Kerrigan could focus on what he really wanted to do. To track down and destroy the two Da’al ships which had survived their previous engagement: Thor and Tyr. Not that Winterson thought he had much hope of pulling it off.
Kerrigan appeared tired and irritable. He’d doubtless had precious little sleep in the last few days and made no secret of the fact that he felt he had better things to do.
There was a sense of awkwardness in the air as they waited for a reply from the Montezuma, with none of the men wanting to indulge in small talk. Winterson had made it very clear earlier that he had little faith in Kerrigan’s skills as captain and, as a direct result, Kerrigan had adopted a bluff no-nonsense approach to their interactions. Knowing that he couldn’t please his superior, he had opted not to try. It made for an interesting work dynamic, though so far they’d managed to avoid any direct show of enmity.
So, it was with a sense of relief that Winterson recognised Tomas Kapinsky’s face on the big screen. And, after the usual pleasantries, they got straight down to business.
“Obviously, we’ve experienced a few setbacks,” Winterson was saying. “Any idea how quickly you can have everything up and running again?”
Kapinsky seemed to have visibly aged since Winterson had last spoken to him with visible signs of grey in his hair. He scrunched up his face as he considered Winterson’s request.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, admiral, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Is it a mechanical problem? Are you going to have to re-establish the salvage lines manually?”
That would no doubt prove costly as any extra vehicular activity was guaranteed to slow everything down. But they might be left with no other option as the mass of cables which had originally secured the ghost ship had all but been destroyed when the Da’al ship had opened fire.
“We have no plans to re-establish the salvage lines at all, admiral. We’re just not prepared to take the risk.”
Winterson took a moment to smooth down his bed sheets. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Vincenzi who had cautioned him about using civilian contractors. His pain killers were starting to wear off and his eye socket was beginning to throb mercilessly.
“Let’s get this clear,” he said. “Are you refusing to complete this part of the contract, Captain Kapinsky?”
“You can call it what you like, admiral. But my people aren’t going anywhere near that thing.”
“Then how do you propose to get it back to Blackthorn? I’m sorry, captain, am I missing something here?”
“Admiral, did you not see what that thing did to the Heimdall? You assured me that this was a simple salvage job. There was no mention of the ship’s systems still being active, let alone posing an active threat towards us.”
“I’ve seen the footage. It was as much as a surprise to me as it was to you.”
“I doubt that very much. Look, we came to pick up a derelict ship,” Kapinsky’s tone was suddenly accusatory. “We didn’t expect to be going head-to-head with a fully operational warship.”
“Captain,” Winterson said, sensing that he was starting to lose the initiative. “I can see that this has rattled you to some extent, but I can assure you that what you experienced was an unfortunate weapons discharge, nothing more. It sometimes happens with ships which are due to be de-commissioned. You have my word that this ship poses no further threat to you or your crew.”
Winterson ignored Vincenzi who had risen from his seat and turned instead to Kerrigan. “Captain, do you concur?”
Kerrigan, although clearly surprised to be consulted in this way, didn’t hesitate.
“Admiral Winterson is absolutely right. Obviously, we need to ensure that the appropriate measures are put in place to ensure your crew’s safety, but I don’t see there being any further problems.”
In a rare show of approval, Winterson tipped his head in Kerrigan’s direction.
“Are you guys nuts?” Kapinsky said. “That ship is a disaster waiting to happen. Perhaps you didn’t pick up on this but as soon as that ship came under attack, it didn’t hesitate. It locked its primary weapon on the Heimdall and didn’t let up until it had been completely vaporised. This ship poses a credible threat to everyone in the vicinity, admiral. And, in light of that, it would be remiss of me to continue with this operation. I’m sorry, admiral, but you can count me out.”
“But listen to yourself,” Kerrigan went on. “What you said is true: the ghost ship only responded when it came under attack. All you’re doing is offering to tow them to the nearest station. You pose no threat to them.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever. I just thought, as a courtesy, I’d let you know that we’ll be taking no further part in this operation.”
Winterson struggled to contain his anger. As well as feeling unwell, he simply wasn’t used to being undermined in this way. It didn’t matter that Kapinsky was a civilian, he just needed him to get the job done. And nothing would be achieved if he lost his composure now.
“Captain, I’d just like you to stop for a moment. I think that this is a prime opportunity for everyone to step back and re-consider our options. You have so far managed to pull off two impressive coups. Firstly you managed to get that ship up into orbit and you did it while keeping it in one piece. Right now, you and your team should be congratulating yourselves not turning your back on the most lucrative job of your careers. Because, believe me, captain, that’s exactly what you would be doing.”
The confusion was evident in the young man’s face. He’d made his decision in the immediate aftermath of the Heimdall’s destruction and now that things had started to calm down again Winterson wanted to give him the opportunity to reflect on that. Kapinsky wouldn’t have been human if he hadn’t harbored some reservations about what it was that he was proposing.
Winterson wouldn’t have been surprised if Kapinsky had asked for the opportunity to consult with his senior crew, but he apparently hadn’t done that - no doubt fearful of what their response might be. This was an awful lot of money that they were looking at. Such a sum was liable to cloud the judgement of even the most level-headed of operators.
Winterson briefly considered upping his original offer but decided against it. It was imperative that he avoided seeming desperate, though without the operational capability that Kapinsky’s ship offered there was precious little chance of them recovering the ship otherwise.
In the end, Kapinsky came to a decision on his own.
“Okay, admiral, I can appreciate what you’re saying but I’m afraid that my answer hasn’t changed. It’s still ‘no.’”
“And you’re sure I can’t change your mind,” Winterson managed through gritted teeth.
“I’m afraid not,” he looked first to Kerrigan and then back to Winterson. “I’d like to wish you well in terms of your recovery, admiral, but I feel that I’d be doing a disservice to my crew if we were to press ahead with this. I hope that you can get this resolved but I’m afraid that the Montezuma can play no further part in it.”
And with that, Kaminsky ended the communication.
Kerrigan stepped towards the monitor, deep in thought.
Then he turned back to Winterson. “What are we going to do, sir?” We can’t let an opportunity like this just slip through our fingers.”
“I’m not sure,” Winterson’s eye socket was starting to throb. “But it looks like we may have to consider another angle as far as Captain Kapinsky is concerned.”
“He has a point, though. If that ship can turn on one of its own, what’s it going to do to one of us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. ’One of its own’? Where did you get that idea from?”
It was Kerrigan’s turn to look confused. “The ghost ship. It opened fire on that other Da’al ship. We all saw it!”
Winterson snorted. “Try and keep up, Kerrigan. That ghost ship is no more a Da’al vessel than ours is. This is a completely different technology we’re dealing with here, invariably much more advanced than anything the Da’al has to offer. That’s why they’re so desperate to get their hands on it.”
Winterson enjoyed watching Kerrigan’s face as he slowly processed this new information.
“So, what do we do in the meantime?”
“We consider our options. Kapinsky might control the Montezuma but he’s not the only one with skin in the game.”
“Are you talking about the Russian woman?”
“She’s Chechen. Not that that matters. Now what was her name again?”
“Saratova,” Vincenzi said, striding over to the foot of the bed.
“Well, she’s clearly made a big impression on you. Establish a link with her as soon as possible. Let’s see what she’s got to say for herself.”
“Aye, sir.”
*
Faulkner was growing impatient. He checked the various plots and trajectories but nothing had changed. They’d been pursuing the Loki for eighteen hours now and every time he thought that the Renheim was gaining on her the Da’al ship would produce another burst of speed.
“How is she still managing to evade us?”
“That’s a simple one, sir,” Leyton at the helm said. “This is fly or die as far as they’re concerned. They’re not holding anything back for a return journey. They’re fully committed to this and, if that means burning through half their fuel in order to out-run us then they’ll be happy to do it.”
“Which puts even more pressure on us to keep up. How long before we’re within weapons range?”
“Not long now, sir,” Schwartz reassured him. “We just have to hold our nerve.”
“Any news on our acceleration levels?”
“I’ve spoken with Mr Khan, the chief engineer. He’s going to get back to me when he’s had time to look at our projections.”
Faulkner leaned over in his seat. “What’s he like, this Khan fellow?”
Faulkner had been introduced to him at the welcoming party but had formed only a fleeting impression of him. He was of Indian heritage and seemed to be rather smartly turned out for an engineer, but that was it.
“He can be quite … well, arrogant at times,” Schwartz said. “But every once in a while, he comes up with something really good.”
“Good. Well, if he’s so bright he’s had more than enough time to make sense of this little lot. I’ll speak with him now.”
Schwartz’s mouth pulled tight but she did as she was asked, putting a connection through to engineering.
“Khan here, sir.”
“Mister Khan, good day to you. We’re looking at our options here and the XO said you might have some ideas.”
“That all depends what you had in mind, sir.”
Faulkner couldn’t decide whether the man was being insubordinate or was just very guarded.
“We need to close with the Loki as soon as possible. I don’t want to give her the chance of making a break for it. If we lose her now, we’re unlikely to get another chance at this.”
“We are currently operating at a level of maximum efficiency, sir.”
Faulkner had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. There was no sense of urgency with some people.
“This is not about personal preferences, Mr Khan, this is about getting the job done. Now, what can you give me?”
“I’m happy to push things to a hundred and five percent. Perhaps even a hundred and ten for a short while but we’d be burning up an awful lot of fuel doing it that way.”
“That may be so, but I feel that we have precious little alternative. I’d like a hundred and ten percent burn for thirty minutes.”
“That would significantly deplete our fuel reserves, sir.”
“I’m aware of that, Chief. Can you give it to me or not?”
Khan didn’t seem to know what to say, so he let his silence speak for him.
“Yes or no, chief?”
“That would be a reluctant ‘yes’, sir.”
“Good man!” Faulkner cut the link and turned to Schwartz. “Can you let me know - factoring everything in, mind - how long we’ve got before we can launch missiles?”
“I’ll get right onto it.”
Faulkner sat back in the command chair and tried to organise his thoughts. He’d hoped to catch a moment with Schwartz alone so that he could apologise to her about what had happened earlier. He was relieved that she’d decided to stay but wanted to avoid any ongoing awkwardness by addressing the issue as soon as possible. Regardless, if she had harbored any animosity towards him he’d seen no sign of it so far.
Faulkner had to admit that, considering that this wasn’t his crew, they seemed to be responding well to the demands he was putting upon them. They were well trained and didn’t seem inordinately concerned that he was leading them straight into combat even though Meyer had famously avoided direct action of any kind. He was hoping he’d get a better sense of his crew’s strengths and weaknesses over the next few hours. If they were going to go into battle together he needed to know just how hard he could push them. So far, there’d been precious little opportunity for that.
Something flashed on his display and he looked down to see a yellow banner marked: Navigation. McNeill.
He was quick to respond.
“Alright, McNeill, what have you got?”
“The XO asked me to notify you of any course changes with the Loki, sir, however small.”
“Good. Let’s have it.”
The images appeared instantly on his viewscreen. He stared at the new bearings for several moments trying to make sense of them, then he over-laid the original course. A clear change of course, yet so small as to be almost imperceptible. Yet why would the Loki bother to make such a change if they were pouring all their efforts into simply getting away? Surely, the shortest distance between two points was always going to be a straight one.
It didn’t make any sense.
“Okay, McNeill, good work for flagging it up. If anything else happens be sure to let me know.”
“Aye, sir.”
Faulkner couldn’t afford to overlook anything, no matter how small. Committed as they were to this pursuit, they were in a fairly perilous position simply because their opponent could predict, with some certainty, where they’d be at any particular point in time. Schwartz had assigned some of her deck crew to scanning the area ahead of them in search of any potential pitfalls, particularly so-called loiter missiles. It was an obvious ploy in this kind of cat-and-mouse situation but so far Loki had not chosen to employ it. Either that, or this wasn’t a tactic that the Da’al were familiar with.
Perhaps they had some other technique for dealing with their pursuers. It wasn’t impossible that the Loki was leading them into some kind of trap, but he doubted it. Not unless there were other Da’al ships out there lying dormant in the dark. But they would have had to plant such ships long before Faulkner and the crew of the Mantis had arrived in the system. For all that that might seem like an unlikely scenario it was not something that Faulkner could completely disregard.
“Comms. I want our long-range scans sweeping the area directly ahead of the Loki.”
“Sorry, sir. Did you say: ahead?”
“That’s right. Is there a problem?”
“Er, no, sir. How far ahead of the Loki would you like us to go?”
“Half a million klicks ought to do it.”
“That’s a lot of klicks, sir.”
“Then you’d best get to it.”
*
Noah tried to control his anger as he sat waiting for someone from the Montezuma to get back to him.
He understood that they were busy over there, the Heimdall’s missiles had done a fair degree of damage to the entrance to the cargo bay. This was why, seventy-two hours after the attack, the Motar had still been unable to dock with her sister ship. And the longer this dragged on, the more convinced he became of the idea that Tomas, his older brother, was using this as some kind of excuse to keep him out of the loop. Certainly, after what he’d just heard, that seemed the most likely option.
Looking out through the main portal, he was unable to see his brother’s ship. What he was anxious to check was whether or not there were any signs of repairs currently underway. He strongly suspected that there weren’t and that Tomas was using his brother’s enforced absence to give himself time to think. Normally, once a salvage mission got under way, everyone was up against the clock, moving heaven and earth to get the affected ship back to the dockyard. The sooner that was accomplished then the sooner the ship could return to service – damaged vessels cost their owners money for every day that they were out of service.
But here they were, having done the bulk of the work - hauling the ghost ship up into orbit – sitting around doing precisely nothing.
Noah could see the ghost ship now, sitting off to his port side, and every time he looked at it he seemed to see some new feature. Indeed, it seemed to have very little in common with the frail wreck they’d first come across down on the planet’s surface. That ship had seemed so denuded by long years of neglect that it looked like it might break apart at any time. There was simply no comparison with that ship and the one he was looking at now. It was as if the ship had thrown off its disguise only to reveal its true nature: its paint job slicker, its lights brighter, its lines sharper. Some designer had put an awful lot of thought into creating such a sleek aesthetic, the tail fins long and sinuous, the nose cone curved and distinctively hawkish.
Indeed, if they’d had any doubts about the ship’s efficacy before then they’d evaporated when the ghost ship had taken precisely a hundred and forty-eight seconds to completely annihilate the Heimdall and all her crew. The fact that she was capable of such a fearsome act of destruction had forced them all to re-evaluate their attitude towards her and their reasons for being there. Suddenly, the terms that Winterson had offered them didn’t seem half so generous now.
