The silver fleet the com.., p.144
The Silver Fleet: The Complete Series, page 144
“Until now?” Faulkner said.
“Until now,” McNeill repeated.
Faulkner rubbed his forehead. “In which case, Mister McNeill, I’d like to apologise for what I said earlier. I feel that I might have been overly zealous in my admonishment of you earlier.”
“There’s no need, sir.”
“No, I expect a lot from my crew but even I can’t expect them to understand the flight characteristics of a ship we’ve never observed in combat. I’m sorry if you think that I doubted you. That was never my intention. I was starting to let my own frustrations get the better of me, lieutenant, and for that I apologise.”
Faulkner got up out of his chair and went over to McNeill extending his hand.
They shook hands brusquely.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Good. Now, tell me: how are we going to catch this thing?”
*
They sat around the main desk in the briefing room. As well as McNeill, Schwartz and Faulkner they had been joined by Whaites the Tactical Officer and Khan the chief engineer. It had been Schwartz’s idea to bring them along.
“Gentlemen, I’ll be brief. We’re about to swing past Topeka in the next couple of hours which means the only thing standing between us and the Henrietta Gate will be Blackthorn Station. We’ve done remarkably well to be still in the race at this point but it’ll count for nothing if we fail to close on Loki. Mr Khan, what are your thoughts about how we might go about it?”
Khan seemed surprisingly young to be occupying such a senior post but Faulkner didn’t doubt that he’d earned it. With his long limbs and precise side parting, he projected the earnest disposition of a student preparing for his final exams.
“I’ve been looking over Lieutenant McNeill’s plots and trajectories. Looking at various simulations trying to come up with possible alternatives but so far it’s all looking pretty good.”
“That’s good to know but we’re looking for any advantages you can possibly give us, no matter how small.”
“I understand, sir, which is why I’ve also been looking at our available energy figures. And I’m starting to think we might have been overly cautious with some of our safety parameters.”
McNeill seemed to perceive this as a personal slight. “Over cautious, how?”
“It’s no one’s fault,” Khan said. “It’s to do with the original software we’re working from. At the academy, we’re taught to err on the side of caution insofar as the safety parameters are concerned. The assumption is that every journey is based on a round trip when that’s not always the case. Wherever we go, we have to build in the resources necessary to get us home again.”
“Whereas,” Faulkner said. “In this case, we’re talking essentially about a one-way trip.”
“Exactly. Which gives us a good degree more wriggle room. We don’t have to worry so much about the efficiency of our engines which are calibrated to run for the next twenty-five years. Normally, it’s my team’s job to caution the bridge crew about overly taxing our engines but I guess, in this instance, we’re less concerned about how much we’d get for the ship at a dealership.”
Faulkner turned to Schwartz. “That’s the first time I’ve heard a Chief Engineer talk in plain English.”
“Don’t get me wrong, sir,” Khan said. “I’m not being reckless here, merely realistic. Most of the safety parameters we’re working from were formulated during the Long War. And, while they might have been appropriate for those ships at that time, things have moved on.”
Faulkner nodded. Khan had so far carefully avoided mentioning the even older class of spaceship, like the Mantis.
“And then when these new Commodore Class battle cruisers came along nothing changed. We still stuck to those old-world guidelines. And that’s largely because none of these ships have ever seen combat.”
“Until now.”
“Until now. As a result, the Renheim has never been tested anywhere near her capabilities. Certainly, her previous captain never showed the slightest interest in doing so.”
Schwartz flashed him a warning look.
Klaus Meyer, the previous captain, was currently occupying one of the cells down in the brig. But, as far as Faulkner was concerned, until his court martial, he was still a senior officer and therefore had to be treated as such.
“But she must have been tested at some point,” Schwartz said. “Her various space trials, surely?”
“You’re quite right but we have to remember when all this was happening. Just after the Long War. They were still in a state of recovery. Those space trials would have been little more than a formality. You see, as a parent, what do you do if someone gives your child a very expensive toy to play with?”
Faulkner threw up his hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never had kids. All my toys were hand-me-downs.”
“Well, as the youngest of a family of seven,” Khan said. “Let me enlighten you. My oldest brother was once gifted a totally impractical present by one of our uncles. A set of expensive crystal glasses. What do you think my parents did with them?”
Schwartz raised a hand as though still in kindergarten.
“I think I know. Did they take them off him until he was older?”
Khan pointed straight at Schwartz. “Which is the correct answer. But where do you think they put it in the meantime?”
“My turn,” McNeill had now raised his hand in imitation of Schwartz. “They lock it away. In the attic, perhaps? Because, if they leave it somewhere the kid can get hold of it and they risk him finding it and breaking it. My parents’ attic is filled with stuff like that.”
Khan turned to Faulkner.
“And that’s what the Renheim is, sir. A very expensive toy which couldn’t be used for its original purpose. The Admiralty couldn’t moth ball it so they did the next best thing: they gave it to someone who they knew would go to great lengths to ensure that it was never abused in any way.”
“And that’s where we’re at today?” Faulkner said.
Khan had discarded his tablet and was leaning forward.
“Sir, we have a backup chamber which was built in case we ever suffer a digital attack and we have to run the ship the old-fashioned way.” An analogue version of our digital read-outs.
Faulkner nodded. “You’re talking about dials?”
“That’s correct. And all the dials work. It’s where you put a newbie when they first come on board. You get them to spend a month monitoring the ship’s systems. It’s a lot easier to make sense of when you can see it on a dial as opposed to a digital read-out.”
“Yes, I remember those.”
“Of course, you do, sir. Well, I’ve done my fair share of assessments for crew members who’ve served their time down there and do you know what their feedback is? They often complain that it’s a waste of their time because a lot of the dials are broken.”
“Only, they’re not,” McNeill grinned. He could no doubt see where this was going.
“I don’t follow,” Faulkner said.
“Lieutenant McNeill is correct, of course. There’s nothing wrong with the dials. It’s just that with the levels we’re operating at on the Renheim most of the time, our systems barely register a change. In a lot of areas, we’re operating at between one and two percent of what our systems are capable of.”
Khan quickly found something on his tablet and turned the screen so that Faulkner could see.
“During our time in the debris cloud, Lieutenant McNeill performed a series of evasive maneuvers.”
Faulkner put a hand to his midsection. “From which, my stomach has yet to recover.”
“Well, these are the read-outs for those maneuvers. And, as you can see, our systems spiked at thirty six percent. That’s just over one third of our full operating potential.
Faulkner turned to Schwartz as the full realisation of what he was saying began to sink in.
“I have to admit, that’s pretty impressive. You’re saying that we have all this extra capacity?”
“Sir, this ship’s potential is enormous. We just have to be willing to trust the technology. In fact, there’s only one problem.”
“And that is?”
“The crew. Once we start to really push this thing, it’s going to be pretty punishing. With respect, sir, your stomach problems are going to be the least of our worries.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“We were told that this was going to be brutal, Mister McNeill. Could you give us some indication what that means for the crew?”
McNeill and Leyton had come to report back to Faulkner and Schwartz. They’d been working together to try and put Khan’s plan into operation. McNeill’s standing amongst the crew had risen enormously since he’d managed to bring them through the debris cloud and Leyton for one seemed to be slightly in awe of him.
“We’re looking at two sustained boosts,” McNeill sounded apologetic. “One of twenty-eight seconds and a second lasting forty-seven seconds.”
“How many gees are we looking at?”
“Ten gees for the first and fourteen for the second.”
“You’re talking about major blackouts across all decks,” Schwartz sounded angry. “Perhaps as high as ninety percent.”
“I’m aware of that,” McNeill said. “Which is why all crew will need to be restrained.”
“That won’t stop them from blacking out though.”
“I’ve spoken with Medical,” Faulkner said. “In some cases we’re going to have to anaesthetise the crew members involved. There’s no other way.”
“And what about you, Mister McNeill,” Schwartz said. “What’s to stop you blacking out?”
“My basic physiology.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I suffer from a combination of bone dysplasia and dwarfism which means that my limbs and torso are significantly shortened. This causes all kinds of problems and not just externally, either. The ear canal, being shorter, makes people like me prone to ear infections and, in more severe cases, can lead to deafness.”
“Okay,” Faulkner signalled his bemusement. “And…?”
McNeill went on. “But there are some unforeseen benefits, like my circulatory system, for example. While my arteries and veins are roughly the same thickness as those of a normal adult, so my blood is being pumped over a much shorter distance.”
Faulkner and Schwartz looked at one another.
“And this physical difference will stop you from blacking out?” Faulkner said.
“I have an adult circulatory system matched with the bodily dimensions of a child. Strangely, out here, that proves to be a winning combination.”
“Sir, he’s telling the truth,” Leyton interjected. “Back in that debris cloud, when Lieutenant McNeill began his first manuever, I just blacked out.”
“I think we all did,” Faulkner conceded.
“Only Lieutenant McNeill didn’t. I checked the recording afterwards. He was conscious throughout the whole process.”
McNeill couldn’t help looking pleased with himself. “Back at the Academy, I set the record for riding the simulator at the highest setting without blacking out. Thirteen gees.”
“Okay” Faulkner said, “That’s impressive.”
“My point is that I can pull this off. The question is: will you let me?”
Faulkner turned to Schwartz. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I’m not crazy about the idea but I’d rather have McNeill at the controls than rely on the computer just in case anything does happen.”
“And what if it all goes wrong?” Faulkner said. “What if you do pass out, along with everyone else?”
Leyton raised a hand and Faulkner indicated for him to speak.
“Worst case scenario, sir, the auto-pilot kicks in and the ship decelerates. At which point, one of us can take over.”
“But, if that happens, we lose Loki.” Said Faulkner.
“In which case,” Schwartz said,” we better hope that the lieutenant is telling the truth.”
*
Forty minutes later Faulkner was being sealed inside his acceleration couch. It was like being a child again being forcibly put to bed. Each part of the ship had its own marshal who was tasked with ensuring that everything and everyone in their area was fastened down tight.
It would only take one piece of equipment to come loose and carnage would ensue. On the bridge, the marshal had her own couch set up at the back. Once she was secure and had the green light from the other marshals on the rest of the ship, then and only then, she’d notify the pilots that they were free to initiate their first boost.
Faulkner located the icon on his HUD which allowed him to address the entire ship.
“Be advised, the manuever which I have just authorised is not for the faint-hearted but it is our only hope of catching Loki at this present time. All crew members and equipment should be secured and that includes all marshals.”
He waited for ten seconds, anticipating a last-minute delay but none was forthcoming.
“Make no mistake, this is going to put us all through the wringer but when we come out the other side it’s going to give us a fighting chance. Once the manuever has been completed it is imperative that you stay in your suits until the medical staff have given you the all-clear. Only then will it be safe to leave your couches. Other than that, all I can say is good luck.”
There was nothing to do now but wait and watch McNeill’s display on the big screen. He had Schwartz’s image at the top of his HUD, she looked washed out and had her eyes closed. Faulkner regretted not being able to speak with her privately before they’d suited up but there simply hadn’t been the time.
“I’ll be beginning my manuever in ten seconds time,” MacNeill said. “I’d just like to wish everyone good luck.”
He was going over his systems checks one last time with Leyton. The sound of the engines firing up made Faulkner’s scalp prickle with anticipation. A lot was riding on MacNeill here. If he’d misjudged this – any of this – then they would have lost and the Da’al would have triumphed.
A series of caution lights flashed up on the main screen. All yellow, reminding them that what they were about to attempt was contrary to almost every safety protocol laid down by the Navy and the Navy had a lot of protocols.
As each yellow light switched, in turn, to red, Faulkner’s anxieties began to mount. His instincts had kept him safe thus far and it felt wrong to disregard them now.
Somewhere deep within the ship, alarms were blaring. Someone must have forgotten to deactivate them and it was going to be too late now.
“On my mark,” MacNeill said, and the next moment it felt as though something had exploded at the rear of the ship because everything was suddenly thrown forward.
All around was the sound of rivets popping as the ship was put under intense pressure. Lights were already beginning to be extinguished as whole sections of the ship were shut down to conserve energy.
No sooner had Faulkner become accustomed to their forward propulsion than the build-up of gees started to make their presence known on the front of his body as the pressure built on his chest, effectively squeezing the breath out of him. He heard the response of his suit’s backup systems as it started supplying him with a mix of almost pure oxygen.
He’d never experienced a pressure build up like it and, as the bridge began to vibrate violently his entire world view began to constrict to one small spot on the ceiling. It quickly became impossible to think about anything else. It was like looking at the world through the wrong end of a telescope.
And then, it shrunk to a tiny dot and Faulkner passed out.
*
Webster had been wrong about the books.
Very wrong.
The place was full of them. Floor to ceiling.
He’d never seen anything like it. Hundreds of thousands of the damned things. Which was kind of intimidating when you weren’t used to seeing more than a handful of books in any one place. He should have found it wasteful: putting so much effort into gathering them together like that when the whole collection could have handily been compressed inside a single tablet. Only now he found that he quite liked the idea of holding a particular book in his hand. It seemed much more finite, intimate, even.
He liked to think that if he’d had access to more books like this when he was younger, he might have read more. Though, on reflection, probably not.
Finding the library – once he’d decided to leave the valley – had been relatively straightforward. As soon as he stepped back into the main corridor, the floor had lit up with a steady flow of lights pulsing in the direction he needed to go. The route itself though reasonably complicated had been easy enough to follow. At one point, convinced that he was doubling back on himself, he’d abandoned the lights only for them to activate in the next corridor, shepherding him back the way he’d come.
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he’d read the word ‘library’ but he hadn’t been expecting this. The shelves appeared to be made of wood and there was a succession of interlocking stepladders giving access to the higher shelves but what really convinced him was the smell. The place had the unmistakeable odour of mouldy leather.
Webster was massively relieved to see Dalbiri and tried to get his attention by waving at him but when Dalbiri did look over at him it was in consternation at being disturbed and he quickly returned to what he’d been doing. Even when Webster tried to speak with him, to ask him what had happened, Dalbiri seemed disinterested, shooing him away. Certainly, from the state of his clothes, you wouldn’t know that he’d been buried alive. Not to be discouraged, Webster went and stood between Dalbiri and the schematic he was facing in an attempt to get his full attention. He was more than a little surprised when Dalbiri pushed him aside with some force.
Dalbiri was studying a three-dimensional schematic which showed not only the ghost ship they were currently aboard but the others as well: Montezuma and Peter the Great. Of the smaller landing craft there was no sign but that was to be expected – it should have berthed by now. What really intrigued him was the fact that the Da’al ship which had fired upon them had been completely destroyed. Instead, there was just a thin cloud of glimmering fragments.
