The silver fleet the com.., p.59
The Silver Fleet: The Complete Series, page 59
“So you said before …”
“Davitz is the man to talk to about this but he’s not here. Seems that each docking area is surrounded by these stabilizing gyros.”
“I understand that bit, at least.”
“Good. Then the rest is very simple: destabilise those gyros by crashing a big enough ship into the docking area and you create a ripple effect. Something to do with harmonics.”
“And you think that’ll be enough to knock Blackthorn out of this thing’s path.”
“Basically, yes,” Faulkner said.
“You’re going to ram a space station?”
“Things are pretty chaotic down there but I have been in touch. They’ve been able to evacuate the main docking area.”
“So quickly?” Webster said. “How did they manage that?”
“They told everyone there’d been a breach in the air-lock systems. You live on a space station long enough you start to take these kinds of alerts very seriously indeed. The place was cleared and shut down in less than twelve minutes.”
Webster was impressed but he still felt he had to make one last attempt to talk Faulkner out of it. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, there’s no guarantee that this is even going to work.”
There was silence on the other end and then Faulkner said, “I would agree. But the idea of sitting back and doing nothing right now seems far worse.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Very good, Alex. Now listen to me – I want you to promise me something. I need you to contact Captain Mahbarat and negotiate the terms for your surrender.”
“But, sir,” Webster started to argue but Faulkner was insistent.
“Hear me out. The Mantis currently has over eighty escape pods scattered over a vast area. That’s going to necessitate a huge Search and Rescue mission. Now the only way that we can ensure that Mahbarat does the right thing is if you’re on board the Serrayu to oversee it. It’s an awful thing to ask anyone to do but it’s essential that all those pods are recovered. Is that clear?”
Webster couldn’t believe that it had come to this. He felt a momentary flare of anger at the old man for manipulating him like this but it was swiftly extinguished when he reflected on what lay in Faulkner’s immediate future.
“Yes, sir. I understand. But what about you?”
The pause was so long that Webster wondered if he’d lost the signal.
When Faulkner came back on, he sounded suddenly fragile. “I abandoned this ship once before, Alex. I don’t intend to make the same mistake again.”
“Captain Faulkner, I’d just like to say …”
“Listen, son, I know I may not have been the easiest ship’s captain to serve under but I’d like to thank you for your support and your friendship over the last few months. I only wish our time together could have been longer. Could you also give my best regards to Chief Surgeon Morton when you see her?”
“Of course, sir. Any particular message?”
But the link had been broken.
*
“This is madness,” Joanna Silva was saying. “Absolute bloody madness! And you’re going along with this?”
“Which bit?”
“Which bit?” she spat. “All of it. He’s effectively going off on some bizarre suicide mission and you and the rest of his team seem incapable of talking him out of it. I can’t believe it.”
“And neither can anyone else. But if he pulls this off he could well save thousands of lives.”
“You don’t really believe that do you?” she pointed to Anvil which had grown in size even in the last few minutes. “Look at that thing! It’s enormous.”
Webster had to agree. It was enormous but if he allowed himself to focus on that he’d never be able to do what he had to do next.
“Lieutenant Silva,” that brought her up short. Military discipline is hard-wired into every naval cadet and he made use of that now. “I want you to effect an immediate course change.”
Silva gathered herself. “Very well, sir. Where would you like us to go?”
“There is a rupture somewhere on that umbilical and I need you to help me find it.”
As Silva was making the necessary course re-alignments, she turned to Webster.
“Seriously, what do you intend to do once we get there?”
“I don’t know. Do we have any cutting gear on board?”
“We might have, but I don’t think it’ll do you any good. That thing was built to last. It’ll be like trying to cut a bridge in half.”
“I know, but we have to try. That way, at least, Faulkner will have a fighting chance.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she rolled her eyes to the side. “That security drone? It’s still out there somewhere.”
“I’ll get onto that. In the meantime, try and impress me with some of your defensive maneuvers.”
“I’ll do my best.”
While she strapped herself in, Webster went off to track down Sergeant Markham.
When he’d located him, Webster took him to one side and quickly filled him in. To his credit, Markham didn’t question anything that he was told, though he viewed a lot of it with a degree of incredulity.
“If I may say so, sir. I’d like to send Specialist Adiche up front to assist the lieutenant. I may be wrong but I’m pretty sure that an executive shuttle like this must have some defensive capabilities. We might be able use some of those against this drone.”
Webster nodded his agreement and Adiche was dispatched to the flight deck.
"Now, what about cutting equipment,” Webster asked. “Is there any maintenance gear on-board?”
“There might be,” Markham said diplomatically. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Most likely we’re going to waste a lot of time looking for something that isn’t there. A shuttle like this’ll be set up for basic electrical repairs at most. You’re talking about serious equipment and you’re not going to find that outside of a commercial dockyard.”
The inclination of the ship had changed significantly, so that Webster had to grab hold of Markham’s shoulder in order not to be pitched across the cabin. He was becoming more and more exasperated. While his fellow officers were on-board the Mantis taking decisive action, here he was stuck on a tiny shuttle being chased down by a drone the like of which they’d normally use for target practice.
“Okay, I understand. But we’re a long way from the nearest dockyard, sergeant, so what are we going to do?”
Markham gave him a sly smile which crinkled the crows’ feet around his eyes. “I’d like to introduce you to this little beauty.”
He slapped his hand against a console which had been built into the bulkhead. It had the words Emergency Docking System printed on it.
Webster grimaced. “I have no idea what it is we’re looking at but I’m sure you’ll explain.”
“My pleasure, sir,” he turned the console on bringing up a screen which showed the drone that had been tracking them.
The drone didn’t look particularly threatening. In fact, it reminded Webster of one of the characters from an old children’s film but he couldn’t remember which one.
“You want us to dock with the drone?”
“That’s exactly what I want us to do, yes,” Markham started activating different parts of the system. “You see, this is designed to allow the shuttle to dock against any stable surface by firing a series of pinions against the proposed docking site.”
“And the droid is the proposed docking site. I understand. What I don’t understand is how this is supposed to solve our current problem?”
Markham began to demonstrate by extrapolating a series of lines to the drone’s surface.
“A good number of these pinions are located in the aft section of the Dardelion. My proposal is that we fly past the drone in order to get its attention, then we fire a few of these pinions into it. Once he’s secure, we accelerate away.”
“Okay. But how does that stop him from firing on us?”
“It’s a calculated risk. But, once we’ve got him all we have to do is reel him in.”
Markham activated the simulation much to Webster’s amusement.
“Oh, I see. You intend to barbecue him?”
Markham was nodding, pleased by his own handiwork.
“Always was partial to the odd hamburger. Chargrilled on one side – just the way I like it.”
*
Grimes was so tall that he had to crouch in order to get through the doorway. He towered over Markham. He listened while the other man told him what he wanted him to do.
Then he said, “Sorry, sergeant, but that’s just not going to fly even if we did have access to cutting gear. I worked construction for a couple of years before I joined the Corps. A job like that, even on a normal job is going to take teams of guys a good couple of days and that’s when they’re working in atmosphere. Out here, you’re talking weeks with teams working in shifts.”
Markham nodded, unsurprised. “Understood? So how would you do it?”
Grimes looked across at Webster who was standing over in the corner as if expecting some kind of trap.
“Well, if we had access to some explosives…”
“It figures,” Markham turned to Webster. “Grimes here is our resident explosives expert. The problem is, we’d need a ton of the stuff just to get us started. Isn’t that right, Grimes?”
Grimes sniggered at that. “That’s right sergeant.”
“And you wouldn’t know where we could get our hands on something like that at such short notice.”
Grimes said, “You know, I think I just might.”
*
Grimes raced around the cabin, grabbing some explosives here, a detonator there. Corporal Jackson had appeared with a large sack in which she had gathered all the explosives together.
“What I want to know is: where did you get all this from?” Webster asked.
“This is what was left over from the haul the mercs brought up, sir,” Grimes said, pulling out a length of wire from someone’s holdall. “I thought it might come in useful so I got our guys to stash it with the rest of their kit. There’s actually a lot more here than you’d think.”
Jackson handed him a pack of plastic explosives which he began wrapping the wire around.
Webster took Markham out into the corridor for some privacy. “How’re we going to get all this done in time? If we’re anywhere near that elevator shaft when the Mantis hits we’re going to get cut in half. Also, we’ve got that damned drone to consider. The Dardelion won’t be able to sit around and wait for Grimes with that thing taking potshots at us. We’re just going to have to drop him off and then come back for him later.”
Markham nodded. “That’s not our only problem. We’ve searched everywhere for a decent pressure suit but we can only find one.”
“Isn’t one enough?”
“Unfortunately, no. It’s a child’s pressure suit. I’ve got troopers who might be able to squeeze into it but it’s way too small for Grimes.”
Webster’s head dropped. “So, what would you suggest?”
Markham hesitated. “You understand, this isn’t my idea. Grimes suggested this himself. He thinks he can get the job done wearing his thin suit. He’d have to carry some extra oxygen but he thinks he can manage.”
“No,” Webster was shaking his head. “No. That’s not happening.”
“Commander,” Markham leaned in close enough for Webster to smell his breath. “We’re really up against it here. The captain needs that cable gone if he’s to have any chance of success. Grimes thinks he can pull it off and I’m inclined to agree with him, especially if he has help from someone in that pressure suit.”
“How long is he going to need?”
“Planting the explosives? He reckons, maybe ten minutes.”
“He’s going to get very cold very quick wearing just a thin suit. That’s not going to give him very long.”
“Manual says that it’s possible to survive for up to twenty minutes wearing one of those suits.”
“There’s a big difference between surviving and carrying out a complex procedure.”
Markham frowned. “He’s not going to be doing it all on his own. He’ll have someone out there to help him.”
“We’d be cutting it very fine.”
“If Grimes says he can do it, that’s good enough for me.”
Webster gently rubbed his forehead. “Strikes me, whoever you send out with him is really going to have their work cut out for them.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, sir. I already have someone in mind.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
With no missiles loaded in the tubes, Bertran had been forced to get creative. The rail gun was still working and still had a few hundred depleted uranium rounds left.
But with no time for anyone to get forward to actually aim the thing they were being forced to improvise. Bertran took control of the firing mechanism while Helmsman Rolf attempted to maneuver the ship so that they were lined up on the elevator shaft’s weakest point.
Unfortunately, they had to abandon that plan after only one attempt. They were spraying rounds all over the place and Faulkner quickly called a halt to it. It was a clever idea but one that had been destined to fail from the outset. The only thing that it had succeeded in doing was to distract them from the reality of what was about to happen.
They were now within seven thousand kilometers of their target and closing fast. The computer kept reappraising their time until impact. They were only going to have a few minutes before Anvil arrived. Even if they were successful, they would be cutting it extremely fine.
“What the devil is that?” Faulkner said, punching up the resolution on the screen.
“That appears to be the Dardelion,” Bertran said. “The governor’s shuttle, sir.”
“Isn’t that the ship Webster’s on? What the hell is he playing at? He’s lucky we didn’t tag him with that rail gun.”
“Judging by our level of accuracy, I think he was quite safe.”
“What’s he trying to do? Attacking that shaft, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“He’s going to have to be quick,” Yamada said.
Faulkner nodded, acutely aware that he was about to give the final order of his long and esteemed career. He wanted to get it right, to ensure that his officers responded without hesitation.
“It seems that time is something we have very little of. Now, gentlemen, if you’d like to make your way to the escape pods.”
He clapped his hands as if to hasten their departure.
“Sir, with respect,” Bertran said. “I would like to request permission to remain behind.”
“Good try, Lieutenant Commander, but I’m going to have to insist that you leave.”
Bertran didn’t move.
“I see. And what about you, Mr. Yamada. Surely, I can count on your good sense to prevail.”
Yamada looked up from his console but pointedly didn’t look at his commanding officer. “Sir, it is my duty to ensure that every section on this ship has been evacuated. So far, I have only been able to ensure that thirty-eight of a possible seventy-seven stations have been cleared. I intend to remain at my post until I’ve verified all seventy-seven.”
Faulkner looked first at Bertran and then at Yamada before letting out a low growl. Then he went to his chair and opened a direct channel to Engineering.
There was no reply. Faulkner shot Yamada a puzzled look.
“I’m on it, sir,” he said.
Suddenly, Davitz’s voice came through loud and clear. “Davitz here, sir.”
“Why aren’t you down in Engineering?”
“It was getting a little quiet down there, so I thought I’d stretch my legs.”
“Good. You can keep stretching them all the way to your nearest escape pod.”
“And I would love to comply, sir. Unfortunately, all the escape pods seem to have gone from round here. I’ll try another deck but I’m not holding out much hope.”
Faulkner narrowed his eyes. “Where exactly are you, then, chief?”
“I’m currently on D deck, sir.”
“What the hell are you doing on D deck?” Faulkner consulted his ship schematic. “There are no escape pods on D deck.”
“That might explain why I can’t find any, sir. Davitz out.”
Faulkner looked to Bertran who merely gave him a Gallic shrug. He and Davitz had never seen eye to eye but at this moment they seemed to understand one another perfectly.
Faulkner stood up, tugging at his uniform jacket. “Helm Operator Rolf.”
Rolf didn’t respond.
“Helm Operator Rolf,” he marched over to stand behind him. “Kindly surrender the helm.”
“Sorry, sir, if you’d asked me that a few minutes ago I would have been only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, we have recently entered civilian air space and so as such we are operating in an area where civilian maritime rules apply. Only someone with the necessary documentation may operate a vessel within the prescribed range. I took the liberty of reviewing your files earlier, sir, and it appears that you don’t have the relevant qualifications. And for that reason alone, I’m afraid that I will be unable to surrender the helm. My apologies, sir.”
Rolf kept his attention fixed on the screen in front of him. Faulkner thought he looked too young to be in charge of a starship. Much too young.
He started walking slowly back to his chair noticing that both Bertran and Yamada were avoiding his gaze.
He sat down. Blackthorn station looked huge on the screen so that it was easy to pick out individual details.
Shame about that umbilical, he thought. With that out of the way, they might just have had a chance.
“Gentlemen, I thank you for your service. It only remains now for me to ask you to brace yourselves for impact.”
Bertran and Yamada went and secured themselves in their respective seats.
“Warning! Warning! Warning! Impact pending. Please divert from your current path.”
Above their heads, a thin white cloud started emanating from the ventilators.
“Warning! Warning! Warning!”
