Chapter FORTY-THREE
"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."