Ep.#9 - "Resistance" (9 page)

“But if the lieutenant is correct in his theories, the range will be doubled, maybe tripled,” Vladimir exclaimed.

“And how long has he been working on it?” she asked. “Nearly three weeks now? He could have outfitted another shuttle with a standard jump drive in the same amount of time, and we’d be guaranteed another functioning jump ship, which we could sorely use right now.”

“She does have a point,” Nathan said.

Vladimir waved his hand, dismissing Cameron’s point. “If it works, we could build more of them—not just to send a call for help back to the cluster, but to communicate within the core. Just think of it; the Jung have to wait months, perhaps years. Jung command, wherever that may be, probably does not even know we have returned yet. They probably will not for many months. A jump shuttle with that kind of range and without the need to recharge between jumps? It could carry messages between a command post and just about anywhere in the core within a matter of minutes. That is a tactical advantage that rivals any jump-enabled warship. Communications, intelligence, and logistics.” Vladimir nodded. “That is what wins wars, my friends.”

“Since when did you become an expert in the art of war?” Cameron asked.

“You forget, I spent years as a ground pounder on Earth. I was even transferred to officer training before Fleet saw my aptitude scores and offered me a spot at the academy.” Vladimir shoveled a load of boiled roots into his mouth. “I learned a few things along the way.”

“Like not to talk with your mouth full?” Cameron said. Vladimir just opened his mouth even wider as he chewed, leaning closer to her so as to annoy.

“He’s got a point as well,” Nathan said as he pushed his friend away from Cameron. “Besides, I didn’t authorize Lieutenant Montgomery’s project with the hopes of getting a message back sooner. I did so because I felt the idea needed to be explored. Also, I had decided to heed my executive officer’s advice, as well as that of my chief of the boat, and no longer use our ship as a test vessel. To be honest, I don’t expect a lot of help from the Pentaurus cluster.”

“Really?” Vladimir said. “After all we did for them?”

“I don’t think it would be a matter of motivation,” Nathan assured him. “Isn’t that right, Major?”

“Indeed,” Major Prechitt, who had been quietly enjoying his dollag steak, agreed. “The people of Corinair will undoubtedly do whatever they can to provide support, but they also have to worry about their own survival. Not only is their world in need of rebuilding, but their infrastructure is currently unable to support the creation of any significant defenses. For now, they have to rely on the Takarans to protect them. After so many decades of being dominated by the Ta’Akar, it is not an easy thing for my people to accept.”

“I suspect that Tug has his hands full as well,” Cameron said. “We did destroy quite a few Takaran ships while we were there.”

“Yes,” Nathan agreed. “The few he has left are spread pretty thin protecting the worlds that were once ruled by Caius. There are outside aggressors that might try to take advantage of the power vacuum and take worlds that are not theirs.”

“They were planning on retrofitting their warships with jump drives, were they not?” Vladimir asked.

“Eventually, yes,” Major Prechitt said. “But for the short term, any increase in military capability on the part of the Takarans could destabilize the tenuous peace that now exists within the cluster.”

“When we left, they were in the process of turning over one warship to each world and training their people on how to operate and maintain their ships. Tug’s intent is to create a balance of power first, then increase it evenly by having everyone upgrade their ships with jump drives at the same time.”

“It is a delicate balance, to say the least,” Major Prechitt agreed.

“Nevertheless, we
are
planning on sending word back,” Cameron said.

“Of course,” Nathan said. “Better to ask for help and be denied than not to ask when help would have been forthcoming.”

“Nathan,” Vladimir began, pointing his fork at his friend, “you do realize how dorky you sound when you quote historical figures, do you not?”

“What message
do
you plan on sending?” Cameron asked.

“A brief report on the situation, as well as a request to send whatever assistance they might be able to provide on short notice,” Nathan told her.

“You’re not planning on asking for anything specific?” Major Prechitt asked.

“Like what?” Nathan said.

“Like more dollag steaks?” Vladimir suggested. “We have to keep our strength up.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ordnance, propellant, consumables, medical supplies,” the major said. “Maybe even more volunteers. You might also ask for mining equipment. If we are to continue fabricating our own munitions and spare parts in order to fight a war, soon we will need to begin harvesting more raw materials to feed the fabricators.”

“You might want to allow the crew to send messages back to their families,” Cameron said. “That would be good for crew morale.”

Vladimir forced his food down so he could comment. “You might want to warn them about that black hole as well.”

“It might be prudent to send all of the intelligence that has been collected since we left the cluster,” Major Prechitt said. “I suspect that both the Takaran and the Corinari analysts could conduct a more in-depth analysis than Lieutenant Commander Nash was able to perform on such short notice, given our limited intelligence assets.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Nathan said, pointing at the major with his dinner fork.

“More so than you might think,” Cameron added. “The more they know about everything, including our own state of readiness, the current operations under way on Earth and on Tanna, and of course about the survival of the Celestia, the better chance they might send us something we can utilize.”

“I doubt they will have the means to send much back to us in the way of supplies,” Nathan said, “at least, not for a while. When we left, the Corinairans had two cargo shuttles equipped with mini-jump drives that they were using to ferry food from Ancot to Corinair. The Takarans were also in the process of retrofitting a cargo ship with a jump drive in order to support the more devastated worlds in the cluster, but again, that ship will probably not be available.” Nathan set down his fork and pushed his plate aside. “People, I think it’s best that we operate under the assumption that no significant assistance will be coming from our allies in the Pentaurus cluster. For the foreseeable future, we are on our own.”

* * *

“Are you looking for a place to set down?” Luis asked as the last few seconds of their hard burn ticked away.

“I’m looking,” Ensign Schenker said. “We’re still at a bad angle, though. You’re going to need to get closer and get between the tip of Metis and Jupiter.”

“I thought we were landing on the long side,” Luis said.

“We have to land on the tip pointing toward the planet if we want to maximize our concealment,” the ensign answered from the sensor station.

“How wide is the tip?” Luis asked.

“About thirty-four kilometers.”

“That’s only half as much as the length,” Luis complained. “Are you sure we have to land there?”

“Jesus, Delaveaga,” Schenker said, “how much room do you need?”

“The more the better,” he mumbled.

“It’s not like you’re landing an airplane, Ensign,” the lieutenant commander reminded him. “You should have zero forward velocity relative to Metis when we set down, right?”

“That’s the idea, sir,” Luis answered. He glanced at the burn timer, struggling to read the numbers as the ship continued to shake violently from the main engines. “Forty seconds to shutdown.”

“We’re still closing on Metis at two hundred forty meters per second,” Ensign Schenker reported. “We’re going to overshoot.”

“By how much?” Luis asked.

“A few kilometers at least.”

“That’s okay. I can move us back closer with maneuvering thrusters.”

“Before we become visible again?” Lieutenant Kovacic said.

“Hopefully.” Luis glanced up at the view screen. Jupiter filled the entire screen, except for a small vertical strip to their starboard side. The long, irregularly-shaped moon was coming up on them quickly, slightly to starboard of them. Luis tried to ignore the images on the screen, concentrating only on the displays on his console. He punched in a command, and the ship shifted slightly to port.

“You’re moving closer to Jupiter?” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said, staring at the view screen.

“Just a touch, sir,” Luis answered. “I don’t want to skip off the surface of Metis as we pass by her.” Luis glanced at his burn timer again. “Twenty seconds.” He glanced up once again. This time, he could make out details of the surface of Metis as they passed by them at a much greater speed than he would have thought.

“We’re blowing past her,” Ensign Schenker announced.

“I know! I know!” Luis answered, frustration in his voice.

“I found a spot to set down!” the ensign said. “I’ll mark the coordinates and send it to your console!”

“How big is it?”

“Big enough!”

“How big?” Luis asked again.

“At least two kilometers long by maybe one point seven wide.”

“You’re kidding, right? Is that all you could find?” Luis asked, trying to hide his sense of panic at the idea of setting a fifteen-hundred-meter long ship down on a patch of Metis only two thousand meters long.

“That’s all there is,” Ensign Schenker said. “Longest and flattest spot on the facing tip. There are a couple other spots that are bigger, but they’ve got ridges and such jutting up at least ten meters in places. No idea what that might do to our hull.”

“Probably poke some ugly holes in us,” the lieutenant commander surmised.

“I thought you said the gravity on Metis was too low to do any damage to us when we set down,” Luis said.

“You really want to risk it?”

“Five minutes to line-of-sight horizon with Earth,” Ensign Schenker said.

“Ten seconds to shutdown,” Luis announced, some relief evident in his voice. At least their long, bone-rattling deceleration burn would be over with. Luis glanced at the alternate display on his console as the tracking image of the landing site appeared on the screen. “Okay, I’ve got the LZ on my screen,” Luis announced. The scraggly, blue line representing the small clearing on the tip of Metis was getting smaller by the second as the Celestia passed the tiny moon.

“Distance to Metis is five hundred meters and rising,” Ensign Schenker reported.

“Three seconds,” Luis said, counting down the final seconds.

“Separation rate of twenty…” Ensign Schenker reported as the distance between the Celestia and Metis increased.

“Two.”

“Ten.”

“One.”

“Five……two.”

Lieutenant Commander Kovacic looked at Luis, expecting him to shut down the main engines.

“Zero separation rate!” Ensign Schenker reported.

“Ensign?” the lieutenant commander said.

“Just a sec…”

“Closure rate of four meters per second,” Ensign Schenker reported as the Celestia’s main engines continued to burn. “Six……ten!”

The ship’s two operational main engines suddenly cut out completely. Luis looked down at his console. “That’s it! The mains are out of propellant! All we’ve got left is what’s in the maneuvering systems.”

“Four minutes to line of sight,” Ensign Schenker reported. “It’s going to be close.”

“How close?” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic asked.

“We’re just under two kilometers ahead of Metis,” Ensign Schenker explained. “At our current rate of closure, we’ll have forty seconds to land before we break the line-of-sight horizon.”

“Can we increase our closure rate?”

“I’d rather not, sir,” Luis said. “We’d just have to slow down again, anyway.”

“Can you put us down in forty seconds?” the lieutenant commander asked, his own doubts obvious on his face.

“Can I put us down? Sure, no problem,” Luis answered with a shrug.

“In one piece?” the lieutenant commander clarified.

“You’re not helping, sir,” Luis said.

“Sorry.” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic turned around to face Ensign Souza at the communications console at the aft end of the bridge. “Tell everyone to prepare for landing.”

* * *

Loki remained frozen in the night, his weapon pointed out over the pile of his jump-rig gear. It was so dark he could hardly see the end of his weapon, let alone anything beyond it. Despite the overwhelming fear, he managed to keep his finger off the trigger, just as Marcus had taught him.

“Don’t shoot me,” Waddell whispered from the darkness directly in front of Loki.

Loki’s eyes widened at the closeness of the major’s voice. “Major?” he whispered.

“Who else?” The major’s head rose up from behind Loki’s pile of gear as his hand pushed Loki’s sidearm to the side. “At least you didn’t have your finger on the trigger.”

“How the hell did you get so close without…”

“Practice,” the major whispered. “Is this all your jump gear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Sprinkle this over it,” he instructed as he handed him a small container.

“What is it?”

“Gear eraser,” the major said with a grin as he looked about for any signs of movement in the area.

Loki followed his instructions, opening the container and sprinkling the contents all over his jump gear. “Now what?”

“Strike the lid against the bottom of the case. That’ll make the case start to burn. Then just toss it on the pile.”

“Won’t someone see it?” Loki wondered.

“Did you see mine?” the major asked.

Again, Loki did as he was told, striking the lid against the bottom of the container and lighting it on fire. He tossed the burning container onto the pile. The powder instantly began releasing an acrid gray smoke with a glowing pale-blue ball in the middle of the pile.

“Won’t they be able to see this on infrared?” Loki asked.

“It’s not really a burn,” the major told him. “It’s more like a chemical breakdown. At least, that’s what they tell me. We just call it a cold burn.” He looked at Loki. “Go ahead; touch it.”

Loki looked at the major, then at the smoking pile. He held his breath, then moved his hand slowly down toward the glowing, smoking pile. There was no heat. It was almost too cold to even touch. “That is so freaky.”

Major Waddell looked at him. “Earth expression?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s head out,” the major told him. “We’ve only got a few hours before sunrise, and we need to get down off this plateau before then.”

“What about this? Will it burn out?”

“In ten minutes, you’ll never even know it was there,” Major Waddell said as he headed off into the darkness.

* * *

“They didn’t give you any trouble at all,” Synda said under her breath.