"One to Two and Three."
Brad quickly briefed the Sentinels on the
transmissions. It brought a grunt from Hodak, a
sigh of relief from Myra, a squeal of delight from
Kumiko, and a sarcastic "Well, it's about time,"
from Adari.
"Brad." It was Drummer's voice.
"Yes?"
"This conversation confirms feelings I've had since
we joined forces against Narval, but I'd like to ask
the question nevertheless."
"No need to, Drummer. I was going to tell you at
the first opportunity after you made your appeal
to the ships' Commanders. Your feelings were right:
we're all members of a UIPS team sent to Planet
Pluto to keep Narval, and anyone else, from
interfering with Slingshot. Our job is far from
finished."
Drummer lapsed into silence.
"Shouldn't we give our side a rundown on what's
happening?" Myra asked.
"To do that we'd have to use unsecured channels,"
Brad replied.
"As soon as we do that we're in the open. Yargoul
will get a fix on us, and pick us off with their
long-range particle beamers. Right now we're
specks in a crowded and still disorganized field,
and that's our only protection. These fighters are
Plutonian, and that's part of our cover."
"Well, look," Adari sounded frustrated. "We've been
carrying the ball for quite a spell. Our folks are
here and ready to take over. We know where
they're at; let's give 'em our report in person.
Then, maybe, I can wash my hair. I feel a mess."
"This fleet still has a helluva lot of firepower
left." Hodak's voice was grim and brusque. "We're
right among 'em. We're 'point' for our side."
"You're right," Brad said. "Our job has changed:
we're eyes and ears for our people, even while
we're running interference. It's not over for us
until the fleets are within range of each other,
and then we'd damn well better be out of the way."
He paused to scan the arena, and added: "I'll break
into 'clear' in two minutes to give our people a
sitrep. Don't waste time on the INOR squadron
they're leaving behind to get us off their back.
Head for the UIPS fleet in two minutes. Hold
outside of their perimeter until I find out what
they need from us. If you run into Yargoul's fleet
along the way, shoot first."
"Three to One. Comin' up on a cruiser. The
protective screen on this one is tightenin' up
and it'll be a hard nut to crack. Got me a tail-end
charlie minesweeper. I'll give it a try. At 1300
kay -- 800 -- 400. Two seconds burst right up
the thrusters. Gone. They've marked us. We got
laser-quads incoming. Into e-e-e-v-a-a-sive. Man,
this baby's got speed. Out of it. OK, One and
Three. They're organized again and sure as hell
know we're jabbin' at 'em. Ain't gonna be easy to
get outta here."
"Two here. I hear you, Three. Got a couple of
destroyers off my starboard bow. Coming around
for a nose job. We're marked. Got incoming, lots
of it. At 1200 -- 800 -- 300. Two sec..."
Silence.
"One to Two. Come in."
Silence.
A guttural howl of anguish tore through Brad's
earphone. Myra.
"I'm heading over, Brad," she screamed, her voice
hoarse and breaking.
Brad didn't stop her, nor did he want to.
The battle cruiser Windstorm, surrounded by its
destroyer screen, was in sight. Brad weighed his
chances on getting close enough for an effective
shot.
Studying the scene, Brad did not, at first, see the
gray sphere separate from the Windstorm and plunge
ahead. Hodak did, paled, and pointed wordlessly.
Brad stared at the sphere. His heart pounded.
The Windstorm had launched a guided fusion warhead.
The target was obvious.
Brad knew the warhead's capabilities from the
Neptune briefings. The Windstorm carried a K12,
a fifteen meter-diameter warhead capable of
destroying a natural minor satellite or a large
populated colony. The bomb's mass was such that
a heavy cruiser could carry no more than one. One
was all that would be needed to decide the battle.
The fireball had a two thousand-kay radius, and the
piggybacked neutronic dispenser, once the cloud was
released by the detonation, would inflict radiation
death throughout tens of thousands of kay in all
directions.
The UIPS fleet faced annihilation, as did Slingshot.
Brad reacted instinctively. He jerked his ship
around and pumped max thrust after the speeding
warhead.
A second later his mind snapped back from its
momentary panic.
"One to Three." He recounted the facts. "If Two has
survivors get them on board, or lash them to the
sides, or whatever makes sense. Then catch up with
us at max and give us a hand.
"These warheads are coated against detection in the
old stealth style. I've got to warn our fleet what's
coming so they can go evasive as much as they
can. Our fleet's break from course or formation will
mess up any tactics they have in mind. They won't
have time to form up even if they do escape the
blast and radiation zones. Firing at the warhead
won't help, even at close range. It's wrapped in
so many layers of armor even particle-beamers
can't penetrate, so I don't know what our explosive
decompressors and laser-quads can do. But we've
got to try."
##
Two was a twisted, gray mass in a slow tumble when
Three drew close. Myra reduced power in her ship's
magnetic beams and directed them at the wreck
until it stabilized. She maneuvered until the ships
touched. The beams held.
Myra pushed the canopy clear, climbed out, and
crawled forward. She grasped a jagged projection on
the wreck, swung aboard, and stared into what had
been the control pit. She turned away and returned
to her ship without looking at Drummer. Laser quads
left little organic residue.
##
Brad switched to standard communications channels
and keyed in his identity. In a moment they were
switched to a channel closed to outsiders.
"Sentinel One to UIPS Fleet Comm Center.
Acknowledge."
The reply was swift.
"UIPS Comm to Sentinel One. We read."
"Sentinel One. Flash Immediate. Must talk to Fleet
Commander. Fleet in extreme and immediate danger.
Now, partner, now."
"Selvin here."
"Sentinel One. Enemy Battle Cruiser Windstorm has
launched a K12 fusion warhead. I do not question
the warhead's vector; expect that its mass
attractors and proximity fuses are set to your
fleet's coordinates.
"I am overtaking the warhead and will try to
neutralize. Forcing a change in warhead direction
with my ship is not possible; the warhead's mass
and guidance system exceeds by far any pressure
my fighter can exert. Suggest you consider
evasive action; will advise further if neutralization
accomplished."
The warning had been given. There was no time for
talk. The warhead was less than a hundred meters
ahead, and closing.
Drummer tapped Brad on the shoulder and pointed.
Two was coming up.
Cold sweat drenched Brad's forehead and drained
into his eyes. He blinked, shook his head to clear
his vision, and increased airflow in his suit.
"Brad," Myra's voice, fast. "Can we detonate it
with our guns from here? At this extremely close
range the concentrations of laser-quads and
explosive decompress energy by both of us at
a single point might disable some part of the
warhead or set it off."
"It would take too much time to cut through. I've
got another idea. If it doesn't work, we won't have
enough time to try anything else. Hodak, take the
controls and get the ship as close to the bomb
as you can, go for less than a meter from the
warhead's surface. Hold and orbit slowly, nose
close to the warhead so that I can scope the
surface. I'll tell you when to stop. Myra, keep
close above in my line-of-sight. Hodak, strap
on your tool kit."
Hodak maneuvered the ship close and set a pattern
that covered the sphere methodically. Brad opened
the canopy, and directed the ship's beacon at the
bland, gray surface. Seconds passed; the bomb's
gray coating was unbroken. Or was it?
"Stop," Brad ordered.
He pointed to a barely visible circular crack half
a meter across.
"Myra. Get closer. Use your attractors to stabilize
and hold position. Give me a hand, Hodak."
Brad climbed over the side. The light
gravity-enhancer soles of his space boots provided
barely enough adherence to the warhead's surface.
Sliding, he made his way to the finely marked
circle, Hodak close behind.
"Access to the calibration cavity," Brad said as
he stooped, shed his outer glove, and felt around
the mating edge. "The bomb has to have a place to
insert fuse and trajectory data and fine tune the
initial settings. The well is closed with a plug as
thick as the armor, and it's rotated into place. The
plug's outer coating is the same composition as on
the rest of the casing. Cut a radial slot along the
edge of the cover. We'll push to rotate the cover
counter-clockwise; it'll take both of us to work it
loose."
"Why not cut out the entire plug?"
"Too much time. The shell is too thick."
Hodak grunted, withdrew a cutting tool from his
kit and after much effort formed a shallow, slanted
groove in the well cover. A heavy metal pry bar
came next. Squatting, he forced the flat end into
the notch and pushed. The energy to push forced
his body in the opposite direction.
"Closer, Myra."
At arm's length, and the ship immobilized by its
mags, Hodak braced his back against the fuselage
and tried again. He felt the bar bottom in the
notch.
Brad squatted beside Hodak and, using the fighter's
mass to steady themselves, they pushed. The pressure
scraped the plug's surface, but remain fast. They
made a fresh cut, braced themselves, and pushed,
sweat pouring from their faces. Very slowly, the
plug gave way, eventually the surface rose slightly
above the warhead's surface. More cuts, and a finger
hold. The plug rose a bit more. It seemed minutes
before their hands could grasp it firmly.
They unscrewed the plug. It drifted away.
"When Ram had our skulls crammed with all that
raw data I thought this was garbage we'd never
have to use," Brad said. "I think a lot differently
now. Myra, hold the mags tight and be ready to
break away as soon as I give you the word."
Lying on his side directly above the opening he
inserted his arm and shoulder into the well as far
as he could. Inside the cavity he located knobs
and keypads by touch. At random, Brad twirled the
knobs, pressed the keys, and opened and closed
switches. After a brief wait, he tore several wire
connections loose.
"Working in the dark like this has disadvantages,"
he grunted.
Withdrawing his arm he slipped his outer glove back
on. Hastily they climbed back aboard their fighter.
"Go! Myra. Go!"
Both craft whirled away.
"The warhead's computer assessed and integrated
my random inputs," Brad said. "The solution should
change its flight path or, for all we know, reset
the switches for the proximity fuses so that
our ships' mass and proximity sets the bomb off.
Let's get as far away as we can before it all comes
together and whatever's going to happen happens."
The two fighters headed toward the UIPS fleet.
Barely beyond the fatal radiation zone the now
distant warhead detonated. The fireball looked
as huge as the Sun from Venus.
Brad opened the communications channel.
"Sentinel One to UIPS Fleet Comm Center. We're
approaching in two Plutonian fighters from the
direction of the blast. Be ready to receive; we're
coming in. Acknowledge."