They were as ready as they could be, but Kas was still nervous as they emerged from jump at Meron, the first of the Independent Systems.
No casual dismissals here. A large space station picketed the jump point. Almost as soon as they emerged, a cutter cast off from the station and headed toward them. At the same time, the comm channels echoed demands that they cancel all orbital motion relative to the system’s sun and stand by to be boarded.
The man that Kas and Rom greeted at the passenger airlock appeared to be middle aged. He wore a uniform of nauseous green adorned with braid and an array of medals so gaudy as to make Kas suppress a wince and he displayed an attitude to match.
“Your papers!” he demanded. Next, he demanded their course data for all jumps since leaving Prime. Finally, he announced that a search party would be boarding to search Starhopper. At that point, Rom protested.
“Aw, C’mon, Admiral!” he whined, “We ain’t goin’ nowhere near your damned planet. Ya can see we’re on a charter job. Exceptin’ for some mining machinery, all we’re haulin’ is a bunch of corpsicles straight fer the rim! We cain’t hardly smuggle stuff to yer planet if we ain’t goin’ near it, can we?”
The gaudily uniformed official sniffed. “Nevertheless, regulations require that all ships entering Meron space be searched. If you’ve nothing to hide, you shouldn’t object!”
Rom broke into laughter, shaking his head.
Kas tried to explain. “The only objection we have is to the delay, sir,” he said. “Our Astrogator should have us recalibrated and our next jump programmed in less than six hours. Two days to boost to the jump point, and we’ll be gone.”
The official sniffed again. “I don’t think so. It’ll take at least a full day to search a ship this size.”
Kas nodded. “Exactly, sir. We could be delayed for several days. We have delivery commitments. Penalties could turn a profitable charter into a dead loss for us. Isn’t there some way we could speed this up? As my purser mentioned, we’re not going to be approaching Meron. Perhaps you could do a quick inspection. I assure you, we’ve nothing to hide, and would be happy to show you anything you want to see.”
“Yar,” Rom put in. “It could be worth some credits if we could avoid th’ delay.”
The man stiffened. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
“Oh, no, sir,” Kas hastened to reply. “My Purser was just saying that avoiding unnecessary delays could save us quite a lot of credits. We’d be happy to share some of those savings with someone who could expedite our passage.” He glared at Rom, and a slight movement of his head told Rom to disappear.
“Why don’t we go to my cabin, sir,” Kas said, “and you can examine our papers while we discuss it over a cup of caf or a glass of Solian brandy.”
The customs agent reluctantly allowed himself to be swept along to Kas’ cabin. He had proved resistant to Rom’s attempts to bribe him, but after several glasses of Solian brandy, he was persuaded to call the station and request permission to conduct an abbreviated search in person. This was evidently slightly unusual, but not extremely so, and the permission was granted in less than an hour.
“You see, Captain,” the man said as he and Kas walked around Starhopper, poking into various niches, voids and compartments, “we can be reasonable when the situation warrants. As your rather… uh
… forceful Purser pointed out, you won’t be approaching Meron. Since this is just a recal stop, a full search is unnecessary. But I would suggest he be more careful in future. Attempted bribery of a customs official is punishable by twenty years’ hard labor on Meron.” Kas hastily assured the man that Rom had no such intention.
Abbreviated the search might be, but it was anything but cursory. The man poked about and examined for almost six hours. By the time he finished, Tera had completed her jump computations and recalibration and Kas was exhausted.
He ushered the man into the main airlock and watched as he hooked up his safety line and jumped to his cutter. Kas sagged against the bulkhead next to the lock hatch. After a moment, he sighed and stalked off toward the bridge.
In only minutes, they received permission to boost. As Starhopper began moving, Kas whirled on Rom.
“Are you insane?” he demanded. “You could have got us all locked up for attempted bribery.”
Rom grinned and shrugged. “Naw, no chance, Skipper. Y’don’t unnerstand how business is done out here. Yar, this’n was honest, but even honest customs agents know that bribes ‘r routine in a lotta the Independents. They don’t resent th’ offer, if it’s made tactfully. I jus’ din’t know ‘bout Meron.”
“What about our next jump point, uh, Odell’s world?” Kas asked. “Is bribery routine there?”
Rom nodded. “Been there once’t. Th’ bribes ain’t too bad, if I ‘member right.”
Kas shook his head. “I’m glad they gave us so much cash; I wondered about that.”
“That’s Imperial Intelligence at work. They’d know how things are out here.”
Kas frowned. “All right. You’re the purser, bribes are your department. I’ll turn the cash over to you. Just try not to use all of it or land all of us in jail.”
Rom shrugged. “It’s all a matter of how you approach ‘em. Y’gotta be tactful, see?”
Tera turned from the astrogator’s station. “Oh, yes,” she said with broad sarcasm. “We can see that you’re a model of tact!” Rom grinned and blew her a kiss. She sniffed loudly, then turned back to her station. Kas reflected that it was the first time he’d ever seen a woman flounce while sitting down.
During the two days’ travel to the jump point and the seventy-nine hours of the jump itself, Kas amused himself by watching Rom and Tera. They reminded him of school children. Rom continually teased and irritated Tera and she could be counted upon to overreact just enough to motivate Rom to continue. Kas thought he could detect the signs of a budding romance.
It was four hours after they’d jumped that Kas received a call from Toj Kray. Kas was a bit surprised, as the big Bulworther tended to isolate himself in engineering, burying himself in technical journals and utterly unnecessary maintenance tasks.
“Captain,” the big man rumbled, “you’d better be comin’ down to Engineering C-4.”
Kas frowned. “I’ll be right there, Toj.” It must be important. The big man wouldn’t invite him into his solitary domain unless it was something important.
He was puffing when he reached the Engineering C-4 compartment where Toj awaited him. “What is it, Toj?” he gasped.
Wordlessly, Toj reached to point behind a generator housing.
Kas leaned over and craned his neck. He frowned. “What is it? I assume it’s not part of the generator.”
Toj shook his head. “Nossir,” he rumbled in his deep bass. “It isn’t for sure. I’m thinkin’ it’s some kind ‘er spook crap. A recorder or somethin’. Th’ question is whose?”
Kas started to answer, then paused. “I see your point. Is it something Fleet Intelligence put on there? Or Imperial Intelligence? Or was it put there by a spy or saboteur at the yard itself? It could even have been placed by that customs agent at Meron. We were in this compartment.” He cursed. “Is it connected to anything?”
Toj shrugged. “I dunno, sir. I don’t wanna try ter move it ‘thout knowin’ more, but I’m too big to get back there. And I don’t want to send any kinder snooper back there ‘til I know whether ‘tis a bomb or not.”
Kas' face was grim as he thought about the gadget. If it was a bomb, and they disturbed it, they could detonate it and cause serious damage to Starhopper. But they had no choice. They couldn't leave it to be detonated at the time and place of the saboteur's choosing. And chances were good it was some kind of transmitter or beacon instead of a bomb. After a moment, he keyed the intership on the bulkhead. “Edro, this is the captain. Please come to Engineering C-4 right away.”
Toj scowled blackly. First the Captain and now the comm tech was invading it. He understood the necessity, of course, but it still bothered him.
Kas turned to Toj. “Edro is probably the only one of us that can get back there without disturbing that thing. Can you give him some kind of camera he can use to let us examine it?” Toj’s expression relaxed slightly. With a quick nod he dove into his tiny engineering office, returning just as Edro Jans hesitantly approached the hatch to the compartment.
Kas caught sight of the small man. “Ah, Edro. Just the man we need. It appears someone has bugged us. Or perhaps bombed us. You’re just the man to help us find out.” He pointed out the object.
Edro’s eyes widened as the job was explained to him, but he merely bobbed his head in assent. Toj presented a small box, two centimeters square that he attached to Edro’s shipsuit. A fine wire protruded a few centimeters from the box. Toj pulled the end of the wire, which unreeled smoothly, and attached the end to the back of Edro’s index finger.
“‘Tis a camera," he explained. "Th’ wire has the lens, and is wound on a reel inside. When ye get back there, just point at anythin’ you want us to see. We’ll get a magnified view. You won’t. Sorry.”
“Toj will tell you where to point,” Kas said. “He’ll have to try to figure out what the hell it is.” He hesitated. “Edro, it could be a bomb. Be very careful.”
The little man’s eyes widened even more, but his lips tightened and he bobbed his head briskly. “Yes, sir,” he murmured so quietly that Kas had to strain to hear him.
Edro examined the area thoughtfully, then lay on the deck on his back and slid beneath the generator. After considerable squirming, his head and right arm appeared on the other side, framed by cables. He extended the arm and a magnified image of the object appeared on the screen. It was a box about five centimeters square and two deep, but on the screen it looked huge.
“To your left then, and a bit down,” Toj directed, and the image obligingly slid to one side and downward. “Good. Good.” Toj said. He touched a dial and the perspective approached the object even closer. “There’s summat’ looks like a wire on the right end o’ the thing,” he said. “Get as close to it as ever ye can ‘thout touchin’ it.” The camera zoomed in, and Toj nodded with satisfaction. “‘Tisn’t a bomb,” he reported.
Kas's shoulders slumped in relief. He frowned. “Can you tell what it is?”
Toj shook his head. “Not from here. Edro, trace ‘long the wire as far as ye can.” The screen image bobbed as it followed what looked on the screen like a cable, but was actually a hair-fine wire.
Finally Toj sat back. “‘Tis some sort of communications device, I’d wager,” he said. “There’s nothin’ more I can tell ‘til we get it out.” Without waiting for a reply he disappeared once more into his engineering office, reappearing almost instantly with a thin-bladed plas scraper. “All me other scrapers‘re metal,” he shrugged. “I cu’d be wrong about it not being a bomb.” He smiled as Edro stiffened. “Don’t worry Edro,” he said mildly, “‘Tis just a precaution. I’m sure it’s not a bomb.”
He handed the scraper over the generator casing, placing it in Edro’s hand. Then he resumed his place in front of the screen. “Captain, would ye be reachin’ over the generator and grabbin’ hold o’ the box? Edro can only get one arm in there, and he’ll have to scrape it off the generator casin’.”
Kas reluctantly stretched over the casing and managed to grab the object with three fingers. If it was a bomb and it detonated, he and Edro would be pulped.
“Right, Edro,” Toj said, “begin slidin’ the scraper under the box. There should be nothin’ but adhesive under there. Be goin’ slowly, and if ye feel any other resistance, stop immediately.” He couldn’t see Edro’s answering nod, but the camera showed the scraper sliding slowly beneath the box.
Finally the box came free, and Kas said “Got it.” He held it in his hand, still stretched over the generator, awaiting further instructions. He was relieved that there hadn’t been any loud noises, but was uncomfortably aware that they weren’t safe yet.
He felt the big engineer lean over behind him and a ham-sized hand gently removed the box from his hand. He released it with a sigh of relief, and scrambled out of the way.
“Edro?” Toj asked, “are ye still there? Can ye drop the scraper and give me pictures of the wire again?”
There was a muffled sound of assent from behind the generator, and the image on the screen once more showed the wire.
“All right,” Toj said, “I’ll be slowly pullin’ th’ box out. I think the wire’ll come with it. Edro, watch the wire right careful. If it begins t’ tighten, yell. Yell loud!” Very slowly, he began withdrawing the box. The wire followed smoothly. Finally, the wire’s end became visible on the screen, and Toj was able to straighten, holding the small box with the long, trailing wire.
He carried the box to a workbench, being careful not to kink or strain the wire. When Toj gently placed the box on the workbench, Kas suddenly realized that he hadn’t been breathing for at least a minute. His breath whooshed out, and he gulped his lungs full.
The big man’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief as well. He had reached for a magnifier, and was carefully examining the box, when Kas heard a muffled “Hmph!” from behind the generator.
Kas and Toj exchanged guilty glances, and then went back to the generator. “Edro?” Kas called. “Are you all right?” Scuffling and muffled sounds came from behind the generator. Edro’s feet were kicking wildly. Finally the words — or, rather word — became clear. “Mfm… Stuck!”
Kas and Toj exchanged grins. Kas stuck his head over the generator just in time to hear “Suit caught!” A quick glance at Toj revealed a broad grin. Yes, Toj had heard.
Toj reached down and grabbed the two kicking feet sticking out from beneath the generator. He gave a mighty tug. There was a ripping sound, then Edro came sliding out with enough velocity to slide almost across the compartment, his torn shipsuit flapping.
The small man came boiling to his feet, his wizened face scarlet with fury. He started toward Toj, fists bunched.
The big Bulworther held up his hands in surrender, fighting to control his laughter. “Nay, Nay, m’man,” He rumbled. “Ye’ve no quarrel wi’ me an’ no call t’hurt me. Ye’ve done good work this day. Not so, cap’n?”
Kas nodded. “Very good work. Without you, we’d have had a lot more trouble than we did — and we didn’t know it wasn’t a bomb.” He struggled to control growing laughter. “But… But you came squirting out of there like a cork from a bottle!” Unable to control it any longer, he dissolved in laughter, accompanied by the bass roar of Toj’s huge laugh. Edro stood for a moment, fists clenched. Then, slowly, the fury drained from his face, and in moments he, too dissolved into laughter. All three roared, and if their laughter held a tinge of relieved stress, well, so what?
As they began to sober, their attention returned to the mysterious object they’d found. “How long before you can tell me something about it?” Kas asked.
The big man shrugged. “Yon Edro’s the expert on communications stuff. Wi’ his help, could be we’ll know sommat in a few hours. Y’agree, Edro?”
The small comm tech flushed with pleasure at being asked, but he nodded enthusiastically. The two turned to the workbench and the mystery, their captain forgotten.
Kas started from the compartment. At the hatch he stopped and turned. If there ever was an odd couple, he thought this was it. Toj, two meters tall and a meter wide dwarfing his companion, some hundred-twenty centimeters tall and only massing about fifty kilos. He shook his head and headed for the bridge.
It was several hours later that Toj and Edro came onto the bridge. “‘Tis right I was, Skipper,” Toj rumbled. “It’s a communications device.”
“Beacon,” put in the laconic Edro.
Toj nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis a beacon indeed. It’s inactive for the now, but send it a signal on the right frequency and she’ll sing like a banshee.”
Kas frowned. “Any indication who placed it?”
“Not Fleet,” muttered Edro.
Toj nodded. “Nor is’t Imperial at all, we’re thinkin’. Could be it's Alliance, but ‘tis true it could as easily be from one of the Independents or even the damned Glory fer that matter.”
Kas hesitated, thinking. “That means a spy at the Fleet Yard on Prime.”
Rom snickered from his station. “Surely that doesn’t surprise you, Cap’n?”
Kas smiled sourly. “Not really. All right, let’s see. Whoever it was knew that we’d be sending a ship after the Rekesh, and that it wouldn’t be an obviously military ship. So they had their agent plant one of these beacons on any non-warships that came to the Yard. Then they have their pickets or customs cutters broadcast the trigger frequency.”
Toj nodded enthusiastically. “Aye! Use a frequency that nobody else uses, and nothin’ happens ‘til a ship wi’ one o’ the beacons emerges in yer system. Then th’ alarm sounds and they can decide whether t’ arrest us ‘r just foller us. Cute.”
Kas had been thinking. “Could you and Edro rig that thing to sound an alarm when it detects the trigger signal, instead of sending a signal?”
Edro’s head bobbed, and Toj replied, “Easily, Cap’n. Jus’ disconnect th’ receiver from the transmitter. Then, we c’n rig anythin’ atall fer an alarm. Eh, Edro?” The little man nodded enthusiastically.
“Why bother?” Rom asked. “It doesn’t matter who placed the damned thing. Just deactivate it. There’s no need to get fancy.”
Kas was not so easily satisfied. “Call it curiosity. I want to know who bugged my ship. I also want Starhopper searched from sensors to drive coils. Whoever left this little toy could have left something much more lethal. Or perhaps he’s not the only spy at the yard.”
“Luckily,” he continued, “our next recal stop system is Rejel, and it’s uninhabited. While Tera’s recalculating and recalibrating, the rest of us will suit up and check the outside of the ship. In the meantime, we have…” he glanced at his ring watch, “… sixty-four more hours in Jump. That should give us time to comb the interior. I want every nook and cranny checked and every access panel removed. Toj, pay particular attention to the engineering areas. A small bomb down there could be disastrous. Will you need any help?”
Toj nodded. “Aye, Skipper. Ye’ve seen there’s lotsa tight areas down there. P’rhaps y’cud see yer way t’let me borrow Edro, here.” The little man dodged as the Bulworther moved to slap him on the back.
Kas nodded. “Good idea. Edro, give Toj a hand after you’ve checked the comm systems, all right?”
The small man grinned and nodded. It was apparent that Kas’ odd couple was getting along very well indeed.
The ship’s routine was suspended and the next several ship days saw the entire crew frantically searching for bombs or bugs. Every drawer and cabinet was opened, every access panel removed and the circuitry so exposed examined carefully. Finally, only a few hours before they were to emerge into the Rejel system, Kas pronounced himself satisfied that they’d done all they could. There was no way that they could check every centimeter of the kilometers of wiring or every centimeter of space, of course. But they’d checked everything possible, and anything not searched was simply so inaccessible that it was unlikely a spy would go to the extreme risk required to place a device there.
As soon as they emerged everyone but Tera suited up and a similar centimeter-by-centimeter external search was conducted. Once her jump computations were complete, Tera joined them. The search took two days, and by its end the entire crew was exhausted and heartily sick of space suits. Finally, Kas gave permission for their next jump, to D’Jellabah.
D’Jellabah was no fun at all. Neither Rom’s bribe attempts nor Kas’ appeals to reason were effective. For two days, a crew of customs officials crawled over, around and through Starhopper. Kas was certain they’d find the quick-firers concealed between her inner and outer hulls, but the searchers simply accepted Kas’ explanation that the extra bracing and the metal bulkheads that concealed the weapons had been there when he bought Starhopper. Kas was grateful for the effort the yard crew had made to make the modifications look old. Even the most cursory examination revealed what looked like ten or fifteen coats of paint on surfaces, bolts and rivets. The inspectors ran detectors over the sheet, but whatever they were set to detect, it evidently wasn’t quickfirers. Finally, the inspectors reluctantly declared themselves satisfied, and departed.
Kas breathed a huge sigh of relief. “All right,” he decided, “Since we’ve been through this search we may as well stop at the planet to buy provisions. We’ve no time for a several-day-long port visit but I think we can spare a few hours. The port’s chandlers should have everything we need.”
“Yeah” Agreed Rom, “It’d be nice to have some fresh food, instead of that reconstituted dreck!”
To avoid yet another search, they grounded at the Bonded Area of the port. Since they’d announced their intention to buy supplies before grounding, they’d hardly secured the drives before a dozen dealers and chandlers descended upon them. Finally, Kas had to station Toj at the main lock to admit only one at a time. Within two hours, hovertrucks were lined up outside Starhopper ’s cargo hatch and cases were moving up conveyors. Since Kas refused to let native personnel aboard, the crew had to stow and secure the materials. Kas paid the dealers in imperial crowns, receiving broad smiles in return. Obviously, he was being taken by the exchange rate. Afterward, he realized he should have dickered, but military habits die hard. He could have had Rom buy the supplies, but he’d forgotten that Rom was supposed to be the purser. By the time he remembered, Rom was busy stowing cargo in the hold.
They boosted six hours later. Kas wasn’t happy. He’d blown it on D’Jellabah and he knew it.
“If anyone on that planet was watching,” he groused, “I just told them we’re military. Nobody else buys supplies without haggling, and any normal trader would’ve let his purser do the dealing.”
Rom shrugged. “Yeah, Cap’n, you’re right. But maybe we were lucky. Nobody seemed to be paying us much heed. Except the chandlers of course!”
Still, Kas huddled over the sensors covering Starhopper ’s stern until they reached the jump point and jumped. Then he straightened and stretched. “Well, I don’t think we were followed,” he said in a relieved tone. “Damn! I feel so stupid!”
Rom shrugged. “Forget it, Cap’n. It was me should’ve reminded you. I’m supposed to be the expert! Besides, D’Jellabah ain’t exactly a popular planet. I don’t think anybody who’d talk noticed.”
Kas relaxed slightly and even found himself grinning weakly. “Are we going to sit around here arguing about whose fault it was, or are we going to get on with the mission?”
Rom chuckled. “I vote fer gettin' on with it. Nothing’s to be gained by beating ourselves up over a mistake.”
Kas was scowling over a game of Jasc when Gran strode onto the bridge that ‘evening’. “Cap’n, I…” he began, then “You play Jasc?”
Kas nodded glumly. “I try. It’s not easy to play a game that requires creative and original thought with a ship’s comp without full Artificial Intelligence capabilities.” He glanced up hopefully. “You play?”
Gran hooked his thumbs in his shipsuit's belt. “Just the thing to pass time ashore waitin’ out a storm.”
Kas picked up his cue. “Yeah. I’ll bet you fishermen get pretty good, huh?”
“I can usually keep from bein’ swamped,” Gran said casually.
“Well, sit down,” Kas said. “Use Rom’s terminal. He’s off duty.” He reset his terminal screen as Gran called up a Jasc field on Rom’s terminal.
Both moved slowly at first, feeling each other out. After the twenty-fourth set of moves, Gran observed, “You ‘pear t’like the Rigellian game, Cap’n.”
Kas shrugged. “And you seem to favor the Silurian.”
The pace picked up, but it was nearly three hours later that Gran made the move that Kas had hoped for, placing himself firmly in Kas’ trap. After two more move sets, Gran realized his fate. He frantically tried increasingly risky gambits, but after another half hour, Kas had penetrated his keep and he was forced to surrender his Emperor. Both men were sweating profusely.
Gran slumped back into his chair. “That wasn’t a Rigellian maneuver!” he complained. Kas grinned. “I didn’t say I played a Rigellian game. You did.”
Gran’s usual grin resurfaced. “That’s right, I did. More the fool I! Y’know,” he continued, “Commodores aren’t supposed to be sneaky, underhanded, and ruthless. You’re all supposed to be fine, stalwart, upstanding, and full of honor.”
Kas laughed aloud. “Well, full of something, anyway. Besides, sneaky, underhanded, and ruthless is how you get to be a Commodore!”
Thereafter, their Jasc games became more or less a ritual during jumps. Gran’s game was technically better, more polished and smoother; but Kas’ strategic sense and imagination allowed him to win a satisfying percentage of their games. Several times Kas had to remind himself about the risks of becoming too friendly with subordinates.
Their next recal stop was to be the Hatchell system. Though it occupied space claimed by New Senegal, it was uninhabited, and Kas expected no trouble.
He was wrong.
Tera was less than halfway through her computations when Rom shouted. “A ship, Captain! No, two ships!”
Almost simultaneously, Edro shouted, “I’m getting something, sir!”
Kas whirled on the little man. “Are they hailing us?”
Edro shook his head. “No, sir. They’re talking to each other. But since neither is on tight-beam, we can hear them.”
“They don’t know we’re here yet, Skipper,” Rom added. “Our sensors are enhanced, remember. One of ‘em’s an Epsilon-class tramp. T’other’s an Empire-pattern corvette.”
Kas nodded. “Put it on the speakers, Edro.”
“You’ve no business here,” A rather good-looking woman in a brown shipsuit was saying, “And you’ve certainly no authority here! This system is owned by New Senegal, and you’re certainly not Senegalese!” The woman wasn’t a beauty, Kas noticed absently, but her features were strong, regular and open, and the shipsuit bulged gratifyingly in the appropriate places.
The other figure was dressed in a white shipsuit with a large red crucifix on the left chest, over the heart. This was the typical uniform of an officer of the so-called "Lord's Host", or military, of the so-called “Ministry for the Glory of God”, the theocracy known as the "Glory." Brighter patches on his much-washed shipsuit revealed where rank slashes and unit patches had recently been removed.
“Whore of Satan,” The man in white roared. “My business is wherever the Lord directeth me, and my authority is that of the Lord of All! Now, Thou’lt heave to for boarding and questioning, or suffer the wrath of the Lord!”
The woman looked annoyed. “Screw you, you damned fanatic! I know what ‘questioning’ by one of you Swords means. We’d rather go down running.”
The man flushed. “Blasphemer! Whore! Handmaiden of the Devil! Thou’lt pay for thy insolence!” His expression turned to intense hatred. “I look forward to questioning thee, slut! We’ll have thee and a battle cruiser for the greater glory of God!”
Kas started. But the woman merely looked puzzled. “What the hell are you blathering about? What battle cruiser?”
“It shall not avail thee to pretend ignorance, whore.” The man in white said with an evil leer, “Thou’lt tell us all that we desire to know presently!” His transmission ended abruptly.
The woman turned to someone out of range of the pickup “What the hell…” Her transmission broke off, as well.
Kas whirled on Rom. “How long before their sensors pick us up?”
Rom shrugged. “If they’ve got standard sensors, about five minutes at our present closing rate, sir.”
Kas nodded, and keyed his com. “Gran to the bridge. Urgent!” Gran was Starhopper ’s gunner, and it appeared that a gunner would be needed shortly.
Gran arrived on the bridge at a dead run. Edro slid aside to give him access to the comm panel which would shortly become the weapons station.
Kas keyed his com again. “All hands prepare for action. There’s a corvette from the Glory out there pretending to be a pirate. He’s looking for us! Luckily, he jumped another ship first- but he mentioned a battle cruiser that he planned to get.”
Rom frowned. “Any chance we can avoid him, sir? Slip away to another jump point? I mean, our weapons are pretty much improvised and his are Empire standard. We’re kinda overmatched!”
Kas shook his head. “No chance. Those ships are between us and the only other jump point in the system. Besides, I can't let civilians get tortured and killed just to avoid a fight. Gran, activate your weapons console and begin decompressing the hold. We’re going to need those lasers.”
Gran nodded and began pressing switches and buttons. Powerful pumps began sucking the atmosphere out of the hold while the apparently sealed crates containing the lasers began collapsing. As the pumps reduced the hold to near-vacuum, the huge cargo doors slid aside and the two nuclear-pumped self-powered lasers rumbled down the tracks in the deck, stopping just inside the doors.
“All right,” Kas said, “The Glory hates to spend any money that doesn’t go for building churches or taking over planets, so that corvette probably hasn’t been modified. Corvettes are lightly armed and lightly shielded; their primary defense is their speed and maneuverability. The corvette's main armament is her retractable missile rack. She also carries two medium-sized laser turrets mounted amidships, but they’re not particularly accurate. They're controlled from the bridge.
“We’re not going to give her time to use her speed or maneuvering. Rom, boost directly toward her at max G. As soon as we’re in detection range use the attitude thrusters to slew us around, and try to give Gran at least twenty degrees of leeway in bringing the lasers to bear.
“Gran,” He continued, “You’re only going to get one, possibly two shots with each laser before the Glory can respond. One laser is to be aimed at her missile rack. The rack is deployed; that pompous windbag wouldn’t be making those threats if it weren’t. The other is to be aimed at his bridge. Rom, does he have his shields up?”
Rom glanced at his sensor readings. “No, sir.” Kas could feel the surge of the drive through his feet. Toj was on the job.
Kas smiled grimly. “I didn’t think he would. He’s only facing a tramp trader after all. And those Glory fanatics consider shields cowardly.” He turned back to Gran. “The idea is to get off as many shots as possible before he can get his shields up. But concentrate on that missile rack! We may get lucky and detonate a missile in the rack; but at worst we should damage the rack enough to prevent him retracting and reloading it.”
“Sir,” Gran put in hesitantly, “Those lasers we have are pretty heavy weapons; certainly much heavier than his. We may be able to hit him pretty hard with our first shots.”
Kas nodded. “I hope so. This fat old bitch is no warship; I doubt she could dodge several missiles.”
Gran smiled. “No, sir. But I was thoroughly briefed on our weapons system. We do have those quick-firers and a chaff launcher. I think I can take care of at least one or two missiles.”
Kas was unimpressed. “Really. Well, don’t forget; we have to turn our belly to the enemy to use our lasers. And the quickfirers have a very limited field of fire. We have to maneuver the ship bow-on to use them.” He shrugged. “Our shields are beefed up and may be able to stop one or two missiles, if they’re not too big. But don’t get your hopes up.”
He turned back to Rom. “As soon as you detect a missile launch or laser blast, hit the attitude jets to bring us back to bow-on. We’ll need to be the smallest target this fat old tub can be, and bring our quickfirers to bear.” Rom nodded. “Now, how long before we’re in detector range?”
“Just over three minutes, sir,” Rom replied crisply.
“Missile launch!” Gran cried. “Bandit has fired on the tramp! Another!” seconds later he added, “One missile impacted her drive coils, sir. She’s lost all acceleration. The other missile was a near-miss on her sensor array.” He snorted. “Lousy shooting for close range and an unarmed opponent.”
“All right,” Kas said. “How much speed can we gain, Rom?” he asked.
Rom shrugged. “I estimate that given our original velocity relative to the target, and adding in max boost for 3.12 minutes, we should approach at just over a hundred thousand meters per second, relative.”
Kas’ eyes widened. “Really? Excellent! That’ll cut down on the time available for him to react. How long until detection?”
Rom hesitated. “With the additional acceleration, 1.35 minutes. We’ll be in optimum weapons range in 1.6 minutes. He should have less than half a minute to react and deploy weapons.”
“Good. As soon as we’re in detection range adjust our attitude to bring our lasers to bear; say, uh, thirty degrees from straight ahead. Will that do it, Gran?”
Gran nodded. “Should do, sir. That’ll give me about twenty degrees of swing. Uh, sir, I could open fire before we reach the high-confidence point.” He shrugged. “We might hit something useful.”
Kas shook his head. “No. I want to keep him wondering until we reach high confidence. If we go in with lasers firing his first impulse will be to raise his shields. If we’re just a blip he might not raise them until you’ve had your best shots.”
Gran nodded. "Aye, sir."
The seconds ticked away, though each seemed minutes long. They were a seasoned fleet crew, but the silence was oppressive with tension.
Kas fought the temptation to ask Rom how much longer just as Rom shouted, “Detection! They can see us now! Adjusting attitude to bring weapons to bear! Raising shields!”
There was a sudden flurry of movement on the bridge. The image of the corvette slid to one side of the viewscreen, though it continued to grow larger at an impressive rate.
“We’re being hailed, sir,” Gran said calmly. “Should I answer?”
Kas shook his head. “Keep your mind on your weapons. Let ‘em keep guessing. Maybe it’ll distract him from raising his shields. What’s the time to high confidence?”
“Twenty seconds, sir. Ten seconds. Firing in five… four… three… two… one… Firing! Firing! Firing!”
If Kas hadn’t been expecting it the results would have been disappointing for the first seconds. Since there are no atmospheric particles in space to render a laser beam visible, the only indication that Gran had fired was an infinitesimal white dot that flared on the corvette’s missile rack, and another that slashed across the bridge and then disappeared, so quickly as to barely be seen. The dots faded, then bloomed again. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash as a missile detonated in its rack, followed by an even greater actinic flash, and a circular fireball that dissipated immediately.
Kas blinked rapidly, and when his vision cleared the corvette was gone, replaced by an expanding cloud of debris. “Rom!” he shouted, “bring us bow on to the debris cloud, and pray that our shields deflect that junk! Once we pass through the debris cloud cancel all acceleration and bring us back around. I hope that crew’s all right.” That hope was sincere. More than a hundred and fifty people had just died in that single flash, and Kas’ satisfaction with his victory was tempered by that realization. To Kas, the only possible justification for that loss of life would be the survival of the tramp’s crew. The mere fact that they’d avoided endangering their mission was cold comfort.
The shields held, and none of the debris that until seconds ago had been a state-of-the-art warship got through.