He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (44 page)

“On it now, sir.”

“Also, radio the fighter and give them a course to point Zulu and tell them to bug out.  We don’t want them around if those security types come asking questions.”

“Copy that, Skipper.”  He transmitted the information and flicked back through the frequencies.

“Anything from the ship yet?”

“Just that they’d broken out of the belt, and were headed for point Zulu, sir.”  Conner steered the ship around two other with the deftness of a London Taxi driver in rush hour traffic as he spoke.

“Good.”

He didn’t see the fighter bug out, and he hoped they had gone unnoticed in the general confusion.  With so many ships escaping from the Star base, it took the picket ships a lot longer to get to them than Conner estimated, as they slowed and checked other ships, large and small, clearly on a check and help mission, rather than targeting them specifically.  They were obviously trying to restore some sort of order to the gaggle of ships leaving the station, and not having much success by the look of it.  That was good for them, as it put them future and further away with every passing minute.

“From the looks of it, I think we did a little more damage to that Star base than we intended, Sergeant Rice.  Mike moved to one side so Rice could look over his shoulder in the cramped space to look at the screen.

Through the huge view ports, they could see explosion and fire raging through many of the levels, especially the lower one where the Marines had booby trapped the R&D section.  Mike felt a pang of sympathy for the inhabitants of the station, and suspected the Admiralty would take a dim view of the degree of destruction, and possible loss of life.  It wasn’t as if he intended to do that much damage, just the unfortunate consequences of following orders.   Not that that was any excuse.  He’d accomplished his mission, and was now on his way back home with the two fighters intact. Gradually, the burning Star base retreated into the blackness of space, and became just one more point of light in the heavens.

“Uh-huh, I think we are about to have company, Skipper, those two picket ships have just picked up speed and are heading directly for us.”

“No chance it's just a courtesy call?”

“No, sir, they are now ignoring several other ships along the way.”  Mike keyed his comm set and punching in the frequency of the fighters.

“Looks like we are about to have unwanted company, so crank on some speed and get out of here on your heading, you should meet up with my ship along the way.”

“What about you, sir.” Leftenant Collins asked.

“Those two ships are a lot more important than us, get them away as fast as you can, we’ll bluff it out here.”

“Sir, these ships are armed.”

“That’s an order Leftenant, your fighter aren’t armed well enough to engage two picket ships, so go.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”  Came the reluctant answer.

“Might as well try the bad radio bit, sir.”

“Couldn’t hurt, and it might buy us some time.”  For what, he wasn’t sure.

“Wonder what the foods like in a Sirrien prisoner of war camp.”  Someone in the back asked.

“Well, they’re French, so it might be better than what we get aboard ship.”  Conner and Mike heard from behind them.

“Chief, do I hear a complaint about that level of culinary delights served aboard my ship?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, sir, Marines are notorious complainers, sir, feed them dog food and they are happy.”

“Wait!  I thought that was what you were feeding us.”  Another Marine put in.

“Oh, so you think we should lower the standard of food we feed them?”

“I should say so, sir, no appreciation for the finer things in life.”

“Finer things in life!  You call SOS twice a week finer?”  One Marine snorted.

“I happen to like SOS Marine!”  Mike shot back.

“Only a colonial would, meaning no disrespect, sir.”  The nervous banter went on as the two picket ships got closer.  Mike took no offense like he did in the past.

You don’t take offense against a man or woman who is willing to put his or her life on the line to protect your ass, as they’d done in the launch bay.  This was just friendly banter, with no malice in it, and having been a Marine and served with them, it was like coming home.  The wait was the worsted part, as all they could do but sit and hope for the best.  A few blasters and some explosives didn’t add up to much of a defense.  He wondered how Pete was getting on.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

“Away team two back on board, sir.”  Sally Goldman called to Pete Standish.

“Thank you, comm - helm, prepare to take us out of here.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

Cindy Loftland took a deep breath, remembering what CPO Blake had said, nice and easy all the time.  She pulled the VR helmet down over her head and settled it in place, wondering if she was up to this.

“Helm, when you are ready.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”  Cindy signaled for engines, and gripping the control yoke pulled back every so gently. 

The ship lifted, and she held it there, then checked the rear view in her display.  All she had to do was turn her head and she could see behind them, almost as if she had her head stuck up outside the hull.

“Rear shields, sir.”

“Aye-aye, helm, you have rear shield.”

“Acknowledged.”  In theory, all she had to do was reverse the course the Chief had taken to put them on this rock in the first place.  Something like backing a car out of a parking space.  Then she had an idea, and looking down, below the edge of the VR helmet visor, she touched a key.

Immediately the view in the VR helmet reversed, and she didn’t have to keep turning her head to see behind her.  Now it was more a matter of driving forward.  Lifting the ship slightly higher to miss the ridge behind them, she carefully applied power to the bow manoeuvring thrusters, pushing the ship gently backward.  Even as she did, the shields automatically pushed small rock and debris out of the way.

“Bow clear of the asteroid, helm.”

“Aye, sir.”  She answered, taking another deep breath.

“Aft torpedo-room.”  Pete called.

“Aft torpedo-room, aye.”

“On my signal, drop a mine into the belt and set it with a thirty minute fuse.”

“Aye-aye, sir, a thirty minute fuse it is.”

Cindy felt sweat trickling down her forehead, but she didn’t dare take her hands off the control yoke to wipe it away.  Now she had to take Leftenant Standish’s word that the bow was clear of the asteroid as she applied reverse thrust to slow, then stop the ships.  Now she had to stop the spin.  This was the critical part, as she had to make sure that they didn’t start oscillating or move sideways.  It was more of a balancing act, first applying counter thrust, then watching for any sideways movement and countering it.  Then more counter thrust, gradually slowing the spin.  At last, the vessel came to a standstill, relative to the asteroid.  Even so, she had to rotate the ship a little more to get a clear window to lift the ship out of the belt.  The top screen in a VR helmet gave her an electronic overview of their position in relation to the belt as a whole, and she calculated the amount of thrust in her head.  Then something struck the ship, and she shuddered.

“What the hell!”  Pete shouted.

“Something hit us in the stern, sir.”

“Aft torpedo room!”

“Aye, sir aft torpedo room here.”

“Damage report!”

“Something pretty big hit us, sir, and we have two small air leaks, but we’re sealing them now.”

“Engine room?”

“Engine room, aye.”

“Damage report!”

“No structural damage, sir, but I think one of the drive units took a hit.”

“Damn!  Adam, check it and get me a status report as soon as you can.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Ready, helm?”

“Aye, sir, lifting - NOW!”  Cindy applied lift and forward thrust as the window appeared, lifting the ship up and out of the belt.

“How’s she handling?”

“Sluggish, sir, but manageable.”

“Good, set a course along the outside of the belt for two clicks.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Aft torpedo room, drop the mine, now!”

“Aye, sir, dropping mine now.”  There was a pause, then.  “Mine launched, sir, falling into the belt.”

“Set your course for point Zulu, helm, slow ahead, I’d rather not draw unwanted attention to us at this point.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

Cindy swung the ship round, lifting up and over the belt before setting course for the warp point.  At last, she lifted the helmet off, shaking like a leaf.  The moment she did, the Bridge crew applauded her.

“Nicely done, Cindy, the Chief would be proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir, though for a moment I’d put a hole in her.”

“Not your fault, Cindy, I’m surprised we weren’t hit by something sooner.”

“The Captain going to be piss about the dent in his new ship.”

“Yes, but it's me he’s going to yell at.”  Pete grinning, relieved they were out of the belt.

“Yes, sir.”  She grinned, wiping her forehead.

“Wish I could tell you to go shower and rest, but you are our only helmsman at the moment.”  Remembering how Mike had thanked Conner and given him time off to settle down.

“No problem, sir, I can wait.”

Once clear they could all see the damage the wobbling solar furnace created.  To say the least, it was spectacular.  Several of the space docks were totally destroyed, including the ships under construction.  Several other large warships nearby were also severely damaged, and the solar furnace itself was an unrecognizable tangle of twisted metal.

“Good God!  Did we do all of that?”  Pete Standish asked in awe.

“Remind me not to go near any solar furnaces from now on.”  Janice muttered.

“Think we should put in a report to the Admiralty to make sure something like that doesn’t happen to our solar furnace.”

“If they have put better security on the electronics panels, it wouldn’t have been so easy, sir.”  Gable added.

“Or a shutdown override routine if it starts to oscillate.”

It was clear the Superintendent of the yard back in Earth’s asteroid belt should be made aware of the possibility.  Just then, a flash lit the aft view screen as the one megaton nuclear mine detonated, sending several large asteroids out of orbit.  That got an immediate reaction of the picket ships, as several of them moved off station to investigate.  As the belt was moving away from the Star base, it was doubtful they’d do any immediate damage.  They would prove a hazard to navigation for a while, unless they managed to blow them up, or divert them away from possible impact on habitat areas.  Generally, Pete Standish felt good, the Skipper had taken a wild gamble, and it had paid off.  Not only had they got the fighters back, but managed to seriously damage the Sirrien ship construction facilities.  What the overall effect in the scheme of things it would have was an unknown, but it did tell the Sirriens that they could no longer operate with impunity.