Phantom Fleet Page 2

  Something was off about this. If they were planning to stand and fight, then he'd give them the fight of their lives.

  -

  The InfoNet was the lifeline of worlds in known space. It tied together every system with an easy means of communication, knowledge-sharing and commerce. The speed at which data was passed around was rapid, but it could still take a fair time for information to get from Earth out to the farthest-flung nations. Ford's understanding of the exact principles behind the tech that supported the Net was hazy at best, but in layman's terms even he could understand that the signals travelled from receiver to receiver via a similar method that ships used to traverse a jump. Simply put, it was fast. Provided you had the power plant to sustain the receiver, of course. Planet-side, receivers were powered by municipal grids, easily providing all the energy necessary for sustained faster-than-light communication. But out in the depths of space, the autonomous relay satellites had to carry their own powerful reactors. Which meant they were big.

  "I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Hubbard sighed as they pushed off from the airlock and floated towards the thickset relay satellite.

  "I can't believe I forgot how much I hate being out in space," Ford said through gritted teeth.

  They crossed the void in the space of a few seconds, though the silence and the sound of their own breathing inside their suits made it feel like minutes. As they alighted on the metal surface of the satellite, they activated their magnetic boots and rose to an unsteady crouch. Hubbard turned back to the carrier, which was keeping perfect pace with them and waved his arms. A few moments later, a hatch opened on its surface and a thickly-banded cable started to unfurl towards them.

  As it came overhead, Ford reached his hands up to grab it, standing poised like a crab in a rock pool as its prey came within range. He wrapped his gloves around the metal hand-holds at the end of the cable and hauled it down as Hubbard got to work opening up a small panel on the satellite's surface.

  "What now?" Ford squawked through his suit's radio.

  "As soon as I tell you, you plug it in."

  "It's that easy?"

  "For you, maybe," Hubbard was busy using his wrist-mounted computer to bypass some of the satellite's rudimentary protection protocols.

  Ford stood back as the panel suddenly flew open to reveal a general-purpose interface port beneath it. A small green light flickered into life at the side of the port as Hubbard grunted in satisfaction and stood up.

  "Go for it," he said.

  Ford wrestled the massive cable into position and pushed it into the port, keeping up the pressure until it clicked into place. Hubbard tapped his wrist again and a small download icon appeared.

  "I'm scraping the satellite's memory cache for news traffic," Hubbard explained, "If we give that priority, it should mean Ellery'll find something useful."

  "Sure," Ford glanced around them at the endless expanse of nothing in all directions. Although he sounded bored, he was already starting to have his normal second thoughts about doing this kind of work. It would be just his luck for something bad to happen now, when he had just left the safety of the ship.

  -

  Duuven jumped up from the captain's chair as a warning alarm went off. The bridge crew darted their eyes around their monitors until one of the scanner technicians craned his neck over the bank of consoles.

  "Sir!" he cried, "Sensors show two Federation ships have just jumped in near our position!"

  "How close?" Duuven demanded.

  "Extreme range, sir. Well outside effective firing distance for their weapons. We probably have an hour until they close the distance using their sub-light engines."

  "Alright then," Duuven keyed his communications console, "Listen up, Ford: we've got company. Stop horsing around and get your asses back in here."

  "Shit!" the reply was laced with static, "We just need another minute or so for the data dump to complete. Can you give us that long?"

  "Just don't dawdle," Duuven growled, "I'm not getting myself wiped off the face of the galaxy because you and Haggard decided you wanted to have an extra-vehicular tea party."

  "Roger," Ford replied exasperatedly.

  "Charge the jump drive," Duuven ordered one of the engineering officers, "I want to be ready to leave as soon as possible."

  Duuven turned his attention to the tactical readout on the screen in front of him. The two red blips were starting to move towards them now.

  "Sir," one of the bridge crew called out, "I'm getting an increase in radio chatter from the two frigates. They could be talking to a third ship – maybe about to jump in."

  "Understood," Duuven could feel a tingle of excitement in his belly, "Get the gun batteries ready to fire."

  No sooner had he said it than the third red blip popped into existence on his readout. Considerably closer than the first two. He smiled to himself, seeing they still had plenty of time. Then a fourth frigate popped up, closer still. He drummed his fingers nervously on the arm of his chair. Then, another red blob appeared. Bigger than the first four. And much closer.

  "Sir!" the sensor technician shouted, "Enemy cruiser has jumped in! They're almost within weapons range."

  "The jump drive isn't charged yet!" cried the engineering officer.

  Duuven didn't have to think twice to know what had to be done.

  "You two should grab onto something," he radioed to the two men on the satellite, "We're leaving right now."

  -

  Ford watched in horror as the engines at the back of their carrier lit up and the hull, encrusted with fighters like so many massive barnacles, started to glide soundlessly forward.

  "We're gonna be left behind!" Hubbard shouted, as the airlock moved further away from them.

  "Not if I can help it," Ford said as he grabbed the cable's handholds and twisted it loose from the data port.

  "What are you doing? The download isn't finished yet!"

  "Fuck the download!" Ford disengaged his magnetic boots and wrapped his arms and legs around the cable, "Grab on before you get left for the Feds to deal with!"

  After a moment's hesitation, Hubbard caught his meaning and grabbed hold of the cable. Only a few seconds later, the ship moved far enough to take up the slack, plucking them from the satellite's surface and flinging them into space.

  Ford clamped his eyes shut and clung on for dear life as they whirled through the vacuum, forcing himself to breathe through his nose unless he should start involuntarily screaming.

  "Pull us in!" Hubbard roared into his radio as they grazed against the ship's hull and bounced off, trailing alongside the carrier as it accelerated ever faster.

  A moment later, a jolt ran through the cable as the winch engaged, moving them inexorably back towards the hull. Once they were close enough, Ford trailed his feet along the metal skin of the ship before engaging his suit's magnetic soles. Immediately, he threw himself onto all fours as Hubbard soared past him before repeating the same maneuver further on. The cable slipped back into its aperture as the two men gave each other a tentative thumbs-up. Ford couldn't help but notice that even covered by his suit, his thumb was noticeably shaking. Hubbard meanwhile calmly looked around for the nearest airlock before setting off at an ambling pace. The engines roared again and the vibrations ran along the hull and up through their boots. They were gaining speed.

  -

  "Sir, the cruiser is accelerating to pursue us and the frigates are slowly closing the distance!"

  "I'm aware of that!" Duuven snapped at the sensor operator and looked back at the tactical map. It wasn't good. At their current pace, the enemy would be able to get within firing range before the jump drive had a chance to fully charge. Something needed to change and fast.

  "Fire some of our air-defense missiles at them," he ordered, "Two for the battlecruiser and three more against the lead frigate."

  "Captain, those missiles are for use against fighters and small craft only; they won't do a thing against a lar
ger ship's armor," the weapons officer advised.

  "Dammit I know that! But the enemy doesn't know what we're shooting at them!"

  The weapons officer nodded and a few moments later, the Rebel ship fired a volley of missiles back over its flank. Duuven watched them on the tactical map as they moved across the distance between the vessels, the Rebels enjoying a slight range advantage due to the Federation captains' need to fly into the oncoming fire.

  After a few seconds, Duuven smiled as the lead frigate fell for the ruse and took evasive action, veering away from the missiles and the pursuit and activating its countermeasures as it tried to avoid what it assumed were high-yield ship killers. In the event, two of the projectiles missed and one clanked harmlessly off its armor. The cruiser meanwhile, didn't even react to the launches. It stayed staunchly on course as the missiles' detonations barely registered against the bulk of its prow.

  Duuven watched the other three frigates start to close in. Now it was just a matter of stalling for time, taking the most direct route away from all of them so that they could kickstart the jump drive and leave. He double-checked his plotted route and sat back in his chair, staring out of the bridge's forward window as he ran some mental calculations.

  He saw the light of the explosion before the shockwave rippled down the ship to shake his coffee out of its mug. A hole was ripped out of the front end of the ship and sent a flurry of debris off into the blackness. One of the fighters docked on the converted corvette's outer hull tore out of its' mooring in a puff of crystalizing oxygen as the external airlock door blew out. Duuven was only in shock for a few seconds. Then he realized why this area of space had been so devoid of traffic. He launched himself out of his chair and skittered over to the helmsman's terminal.

  "Now pay attention," he said, standing over the young man's seat and peering at the ship's controls, "I know for a fact this is one scenario you haven't trained for."

  -

  Ford flattened himself against the hull as a storm of metal shards blew past him, pinging off the docked fighters and shredding one of the delicate sensor dishes that protruded from the ship's skin. After a moment of calm, he got back on his feet and returned a hesitant thumbs-up from Hubbard further along the outside of the vessel.

  "Did we get hit?" the engineer asked.

  "Don't think so," Ford replied, "Didn't see any incoming fire."

  "The hell was that, then?"

  A dark shape zipped past them, just a few feet from hitting the hull. Ford watched it disappear behind them against the distant blanket of stars as another blew past on the other side of the ship.

  "I don't want to alarm you, Hubbard," Ford croaked with a dry mouth as another pair of the objects sped by, "But I think we might have flown into a minefield."

  "We need to get inside!" the older man shouted and resumed his slow trudge towards the raised edge of the nearest airlock, "Yesterday!"

  -

  "Sir, I'm seeing explosions along the front of the enemy's vessel," one of the Federation bridge crew reported.

  "Oh?" Horsk cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't think that any of us were within weapons range?"

  "That's the thing, sir – only the Austin's Pride is approaching their maximum missile launch distance."

  "Huh," he drummed his fingers on the arm of the captain's chair for a moment before looking over his shoulder, "Sensors, what are you reading?"

  "There's a lot of interference from their jamming devices, sir," the officer responded, "But I am getting some slightly unusual magnetic readings across the area ahead. Could be a glitch in the system though."

  Horsk nodded and fell silent, his gaze fixed on the view screen ahead.

  "Tell the Austin's Pride to slow down," he said at last.

  "Sir?"

  "Tell them to slow down immediately and boost their sensor output. There's a possible minefield ahead."

  "Aye, aye," the communications officer relayed the message. On the tactical map, the blip representing the Austin's Pride kept up its current course and momentum.

  "What's happening?" Horsk demanded.

  "Sir," the comms officer nervously replied, "Captain Bragwal says that he'll slow down as soon as he launches missiles, but not before."

  "Damn him!" Horsk slammed his fist down on the console next to him, "How far behind are the rest of our other ships?"

  "Just over three minutes," came the reply.

  "Very well. Let him go."

  "Should I repeat the order, sir?" asked the comms officer.

  "No, let Bragwal stay his current course," Commodore Horsk replied before turning to address the entire bridge, "Pay attention men, you're about to see a man cause several billion credits worth of damage to his ship and torpedo his own career in the process."

  -

  "Sir! All but one of the Federation ships are coming to a halt just outside of the minefield!"

  "And how close is the remainder?"

  "Two minutes from firing range sir."

  "What's the charge level of the jump drive?" Duuven asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

  "Eighty percent, sir!"

  "Adjust our course twelve degrees to port," he ordered the helmsman, keeping one eye on the enemy ship that for some reason wouldn't give up.

  The helmsman nodded and eased the ship onto a new path, threading between the larger clusters of mines as the occasional stray detonated against their nose. Duuven could see the enemy ship accelerating on the map display, gradually catching up.

  "They've activated their auxiliary thrusters, Captain!" the sensor officer reported.

  "I can see that!" Duuven replied a little too loudly as a bead of sweat formed on his temple. He watched the angry red blip close in on their position in the center of the display. They wouldn't have time to charge the drive before the Feds got their missiles away. Then a lightbulb flickered on in his mind.

  "Can you put a couple of these mine clusters between us and them?" Duuven asked the helmsman.

  "Sure, but we'd lose a bit of speed whilst maneuvering – they could hit their afterburners and catch up with us in no time."

  "That's what I'm counting on," he replied gravely.

  The crew exchanged worried glances around the bridge for a few moments before they caught onto his plan. A murmur ran around the room as the helmsman hauled on the controls and yawed the ship around a couple of the clusters.

  "Captain, the enemy frigate is accelerating!" a panicked crewman reported.

  "Good," Duuven snapped before leaning in intently towards the tactical display, "Come and get us, you bastard."

  -

  Ford stumbled as the ship whooshed past a group of mines at a dangerously close angle. Up ahead, Hubbard had reached the airlock and was fiddling with the manual release panel, trying to get the damn thing open. Ford twisted and fought to regain his balance – he had to hurry. If he was caught on the outside of the ship when they jumped or when another of those mines came just a little too close, he didn't even want to think about what would happen. As it was, he was thinking a lot. Too much. His vision swam as he felt the darkness of space pressing in on all sides.

  "Damnit, get it together," he hissed through gritted teeth, "You're not coming this far just to die now."

  With only his own rapid breathing and the vibration of the ship's engines for company, Ford activated the magnetic pads on the palms of his hands and sunk to all fours. Closer to the skin of the ship, he felt his breathing start to normalize. He fought the temptation to just lock himself in place and close his eyes, and instead got crawling.

  Ford slithered across the hull until he reached the lip of the airlock. Hubbard briefly looked down at him with a raised eyebrow before turning his attention back to the release lever.

  "If you're done looking for dropped pennies down there," the older man grunted, "Maybe you could give me a hand with this? The lever's a little sticky."

  Ford cursed under his breath and nodded, slowly straightening up before
bending down at the waist and grasping the release lever. Together, the two men hauled the metal rod upwards until with a metallic clunk, it locked into place and the outer doors opened.

  Hubbard was the first in, awkwardly rotating himself in the vacuum and then clambering through the door. His feet touched down as the carrier's artificial gravity began to take effect. His heartrate calming, Ford made to follow him, inverting himself in a weird handstand on the ship's hull and then pulling himself along the handholds into the airlock. He was almost in when Hubbard's massive hand smacked into his back and slammed him back down onto the hull.

  "What the hell?" he shouted just as the angular grey mass of one of the mines zipped through the space where his body had just been dangling out of the ship. It span down the length of the hull, narrowly missing the edge of the outermost engines.

  "You're very welcome," Hubbard grunted as he grabbed hold of Ford's arm, "Now get the hell in here – we haven't got all day!"

  -

  Duuven drummed his fingers anxiously on the arm of his command chair as the red blip of the enemy frigate slid closer across the map. Aside from necessary communications, the bridge was dead silent.