How Bad Could It Be?
Heather noticed something while looking over her instrument panels. Her little blue spaceship was armed. Heavily armed. Lasers, plasma cannons, grav-enhanced 30mm autoguns with over 4,000 programmable smart rounds in their magazines, and if she was reading the status displays correctly, missile launchers but no missiles. She hoped it meant that she'd fired them all at her enemies, back in the time before she could remember. She hoped she'd blown them to bits, too. She suspected that the curved row of four silver nubs forward of each control pad were the firing buttons. She hoped her hands would know what to do if they were attacked. There was another panel for some very impressive shields.
She felt the beginnings of thirst, and her clever hands had an answer for that. A small compartment held water bottles and what had probably once been food. Two years had not been kind to most of it, but there were six foil-wrapped energy bars that would keep almost forever. There were some paper napkins, too.
Her nose had stopped bleeding, but it had definitely left its mark on what remained of her white blouse. It hurt, but only a little. Her hands did something and she saw a mirrored image of herself appear on the canopy. She dampened a napkin, cleaned the blood and dirt off her face and neck, and even got some of the dust out of her hair. She finished by honking it full of red boogers, careful not to start her nose bleeding again. There were streaks and smears of grimy, drying blood on her body, too. She unbuckled all but the waist straps and spent quite a while scrubbing herself off, until she started to feel clean again. Those loathsome hands…
She stuffed the dirty napkins into one of the used-to-be-food bags. At least that didn't smell as bad as it looked. She put a water bottle to her lips and rinsed her mouth out, spat carefully into the bag, then did it again. Twice seemed to be enough, and she drank a little. She sealed the bag and returned it and the bottle to the compartment. She chuckled and thought about makeup, but her hands didn't respond. No makeup, then.
Heather appraised her projected self. The big red hand-print on the left side of her face was fading. She could see a small bruise forming on her right cheek and a much bigger one on the left side of her neck where the man-thing bit her. She felt a moment's amusement. Would she need to get shots? She didn't see any bleeding there, so he must not have broken the skin. Saving that for later, no doubt. There were more bruises on her left arm and a small scratch between her breasts. Those were the only visible mementos of her ordeal. She examined her left nipple carefully, both in the image and directly. She could almost feel the man-thing's claw again, and was deeply relieved to find that it hadn't cut her there. She felt a few other scrapes and bruises but she had escaped — been rescued — with no significant injuries. She felt a warm gratitude toward her exceptional spaceship. It had found her somehow, blasted the man-thing through at least two walls, and whisked her away from a most atrocious death. She shuddered and tried not to think of the grisly scene that would have awaited the returning staff in the morning. What would they think of what they did find? Wreckage, the purse she'd left behind, some buttons, a torn bra and her blood. Traces of the man-thing? Probably. He didn't seem the careful type. She couldn't do anything about it now.
Her blouse had three remaining buttons: the top two, which hadn't been buttoned, and the bottom one which hadn't been torn off. She buttoned the second one, but her blouse stubbornly refused to stay closed, and zero gravity wasn't helping at all. She had a sewing kit in her purse, along with a lot of other useful things, but they were lost to her now. She hadn't seen anything helpful here in her ship, and when she thought about the problem her hands didn't respond. There wasn't even any space tape! She felt a little irritated with her former self about that. She still didn't know where she was going, but it looked like she would be putting on quite a show when she got there. All things considered, the thought of a few people looking at her breasts was a trivial matter and she chose not to be concerned about it. When she re-latched all the restraint straps, they held her blouse together a little.
Heather regarded her image again. Who am I? Other than this ship's pilot, anyway? She looked like…herself. Blue eyes, full lips, slightly pointed chin, nice straight nose — just a bit swollen, but nobody else would know that — and very long, very red hair. Her right hand had scooped it into her lap in a motion as automatic as her left hand closing the canopy. She'd been advised to cut it, over and over, but it was something from her forgotten life and she had stubbornly kept it. For the rest, a little over average height and all the other features appropriate for an athletic young woman, a couple of them now prominently on display. Men, and some women, had told her she was beautiful, among other things, and she had attracted attention ranging from polite to obnoxiously persistent. A few such 'admirers' had led her to discover that she knew how to fight, and she fought dirty. Word had gotten around, and she explored and practiced her personal combat skills in her free time.
She had never followed up on any of that attention, from anybody. She didn't feel any interest in women, and she didn't dislike men, but somehow, none of the men she'd met had been right. She had a feeling, another one of those exasperating feelings, that something vital was missing from her life. There must have been a man, before, and even though she couldn't remember who he was, it appeared that at least a part of her knew who he wasn't.
She got her hands to bring the system display up again and checked her progress. She'd passed her closest approach to the next planet's orbit and was now heading outward again. The clock showed 1:46:15, but to where? Her course still ended in what looked like empty space. It's not the middle of nowhere, but you can see it from here, she thought with idle amusement. Deceleration should start in twenty minutes or so; hopefully answers would follow an hour and a half after that.
"New contact! It's a big one, Commander…maybe two hundred thousand tons." Amarone wasn't reporting every contact, just the major ones. "Range, eighteen light-seconds. Moving toward us, five-point-six KPS squared."
Captain Magno studied the new blip. "What do you think, BC? Battle-cruiser?"
"It's the right size." Buzam scrunched her/his forehead a little. "Why start after us now, though?
Magno looked a little grim. "I think they've figured out that we're here on our own. If we were bringing company, they'd have shown up by now."
Commander Calessa nodded agreement. A sort of general movement was taking place in the tactical display as the red symbols and most of the yellow ones closed in on the cluster of greens, while a few of the nearest icons pulled back. They had long since taught the enemy about 'defeat in detail'. New blips were appearing at a rate of two or three a minute as their sensors sorted out signals from background noise. Their formation provided over a hundred receivers spread around more than a light-second, giving them impressive discrimination and resolution. Unfortunately, the enemy probably had a lot more in place, and even more widely distributed.
A few minutes later Lieutenant Ketrina Ortsov at Tactical Station Two announced, "Contact! We know this one, Ma'am — assault carrier. Range, twenty-eight light-seconds, closing thirty-two-forty KPS, accelerating five-point-one KPS squared."
"Only the one?" BC asked, a little suspicious.
"All I see, Commander," she confirmed. "Be hard to hide any more, as many times as we've seen 'em."
That was true. The enemy's raider ships were too small to fit hyperdrives, so they used those carriers to deliver and retrieve them in other people's star systems. A little over 450 meters and 240,000 tons, it could transport, deploy, refuel and re-arm thirty-six raiders. On its own it had about the same defenses as a battle-cruiser, but they usually stayed out of combat due to the structural weakness of their huge open hangar bays. And, of course, if someone took out their carriers the raiders would be stuck in normal space, unable to escape retribution.
"Is it loaded, or empty?" BC asked.
"Can't tell, Ma'am," Ketrina replied. "They can make five-point-one either way." BC nodded, unsatisfied.
They all watched various symbols creep across the huge display. There were several estimated-time counters, too, showing a consensus that in about ten minutes they and the nearest enemy units would be close enough to start shooting at each other.
"Bring the Dreads and Vanguards in closer," Magno ordered. "They'll need our support soon, and we'll need theirs."
Hibiki looked over his scanner displays. His eyes were drawn to one particular symbol, and he smiled. Barnette's Dread was behind him now as they decelerated, keeping station ahead of the Nirvana as they continued to close in on the enemy's location. What were they up to in this system? He was only a little tempted to open a Command Priority channel and talk to her.
He checked the space around them, at least out to the nearest enemy units. He had access to all their tactical data, but his Vanguard's small screens could show only a fraction of it without turning into a hopelessly cluttered mess. The main holographic display in front of the Nirvana's bridge was sixty meters wide. He wondered what they were seeing in that.
"Picking up anomalies in the asteroid belt," Amarone reported. "Energy readings and signals…com lasers, I think. Multiple sources…I've got a visual on the closest one."
An image appeared above the bridge. It showed a huge lumpy rock with installations and equipment sticking out all over its surface, gaining detail and depth as it turned slowly. "About twelve hundred meters across, over two billion tons…I'm seeing missile launchers, anti-missile defenses, shield emitters, at least two big energy weapon emplacements…based on their locations, I'd say two more we can't see from here, tetrahedral positions. Full spherical coverage."
Magno examined the light gray rock carefully. "Fortified asteroids. Not a surprise, really. How many?"
"I'm still isolating signals." She was working hard, processing sensor data. "More than a dozen, but no more than twenty-five unless they've got some completely shut down. They've got some pretty big fusion reactors, and now I know what we're looking for. I should have all of them in a few minutes."
Magno nodded. "Good work, Amarone. Good work, everyone." She regarded the red and yellow symbols critically. "Bart, increase to eight-point-four KPS squared deceleration. Keep us clear of those things until we know more about them."
"Aye, Captain, eight-point-four," he acknowledged immediately. He was only too glad to keep their distance from those sinister-looking constructs. "Closest approach will be eight hundred and seventy thousand kilometers in a little over four minutes." That was just under three light-seconds, and would give them a really good look at one of them.
"Pull the Dreads and Vanguards back," the Captain ordered a minute later. "There's nothing they can do against that thing anyway."
"Flight Commander, Group Commander, pull everybody back behind the Nirvana," BC relayed the order to Meia and Hibiki.
They both acknowledged and passed it on to their various Flight and Section Leaders. The smaller green symbols retreated and spread around the large green arrowhead's point. The ones representing Hibiki, Jura, Meia and Barnette moved directly in front of it. They watched it back down towards the red splotch marking the nearest fortified asteroid, gradually slowing.
"Missile launch!" Lieutenant Ortsov announced. "Twelve missiles, from the second asteroid back, range one-point-seven million, impact in fifty-five seconds."
Bart didn't wait for orders. "Targeting…fire." Dozens of curving light beams reached out from the Nirvana's upper hull towards the oncoming missiles. He hadn't used all of them against a mere dozen targets.
Ketrina spoke again. "Missile launch, twelve, from nearest asteroid, range eight hundred eighty thousand, impact thirty-eight seconds."
"Targeting second group," Bart said tensely. "Firing." Their ship emitted more beams in a slightly different direction. They watched as the enemy missiles encountered their beams and were wiped out. Ten detonated, raising a hash of interference, slowly fading. "Those missiles were bigger than they should have been." He sounded rather offended. "Faster, too."
"Those launches were timed to hit us simultaneously," Captain Magno's tone was half-question, half-statement.
"Yes, Captain," Ketrina confirmed. "At our closest approach to the nearest asteroid."
"Mister Garsus," Magno said grimly, "Hit that rock with everything."
"Aye, Captain. Missiles away." He waited twelve seconds and added, "Firing, all beams."
They'd made some modifications over the years, adding launchers for a dozen heavy missiles to the former Ikazuchi, and six more to what was once Magno's pirate ship. Targeting and launch control had been routed to the main bridge stations, but within a week they'd found that the helm station was also tied in. Apparently the Pyxis wanted it that way.
The Nirvana's strange beam weapons were slower than light, but faster than missiles. Bart timed them for simultaneous arrival at the target, just as the enemy had.
"Enemy countermeasures active," Amarone informed them. "No effect."
Bart hadn't activated any of the missiles' internal target-seekers. He knew the asteroid's exact position, it wasn't going anywhere, and he'd simply programmed the missiles to go there and blow it up.
"Enemy anti-missile defenses firing," Amarone reported. "Three…four…five…they got five. Impact."
Thirteen capital missiles and ninety-six beams hit the asteroid, concentrated in an area less than two hundred meters across. When the interference cleared…
"Nothing," Bart growled, disgusted.
"No damage to target," Amarone confirmed. "Enemy shields holding, almost ninety percent."
"We can't do anything to it from this range," BC added.
"Closest approach in five seconds," Lieutenant Chavien informed them. They glowered at the enemy…
A glare of blinding purple-white light shone in through the dome, the center of the tactical display was blotted out by a bright red haze, and the ship lurched under them. Bart yelled wordlessly, alarms sounded and red lights appeared on bridge stations.
"Impact!" Belvedere Coco shouted. "Energy strike, type unknown, source, unknown!"
"Ow! Captain, permission to run away?!" Bart sounded a little panicked, but at least he was asking for orders instead of just acting on it.
"Do it, Bart! Full power!" Magno wasn't sure what was happening, or what they should do about it, but opening the range was a good start.
"Aye, nine-point-seven-two…seven-three. That's all she's got!" He leaned forward, seeming to strain with the ship.
"It's the asteroid, Ma'am!" Lieutenant Ortsov proclaimed. "Heat flares around those energy weapons, radiation, charged particles…never seen anything like it! No energy buildup before the shot, either."
"Ship status!" Magno barked.
"Aye, Captain," Lieutenant Coco was steadying down from her initial shock. "Minor radiation exposure across our stern, shields down to eighty-three percent. No casualties reported. Power surges have affected some systems. Vanguard launchers are off-line. A few other failures, non-critical."
"My back is burning," Bart grumbled. "That hurt."
"Divert power to aft shields," Magno ordered. "Dreads and Vanguards. Status!"
"Vanguards report no damage," Hibiki told them. "We're, uh, moving in front of the Nirvana, and closing in a little." In other words, hiding behind the Nirvana's shields. There wasn't much else they could do.
"Dreads are okay," Meia said with some relief. "A few caught some rads, but still green. They're spreading out, away from the ship." Getting some distance from the primary target was another good move.
"That was exactly when those missiles would have hit us." There was hardly any question at all in Magno's voice.
"Yes, Ma'am, to the second," Amarone confirmed.
"Bart. Progress?" she asked.
"Range eight hundred and seventy-four thousand, relative speed two hundred and fifty KPS," he answered nervously. "Still boosting at max. Best we AAAUGGH!—"
Again the blaze, the tactical plot overloaded, and the ship's gravity field twitched. Energy weapons strike at light-speed, providing little or no warning.
"Another hit," Belvedere reported. "Shields at seventy-nine percent, more radiation…that's about all."
"Ow, ow," Bart whimpered. Feeling everything through the ship had its drawbacks.
"What the hell are those things?!" Magno demanded. She got a number of confused looks in response.
BC looked up from where she/he had been going over the data with intense concentration and said thoughtfully, "I might have an idea about that."
"Well, go on," Magno almost snapped, impatiently.
"I think they're antimatter-pumped gamma cannons. There were some proposals floating around on Taraak to build a prototype, but they deemed it impractical and dumped the idea." The Exec looked around to find that she/he was now the center of attention. "The concept's pretty simple: take a long tube with insanely heavy energy shields on the inside, point it at something you don't like, and shoot some hydrogen and anti-hydrogen into the closed end. It generates a stew of exotic particles, most of which decay into gamma photons within a few microseconds. Tune the shields to reflect gamma, and the only place they can go is out the other end."
They endured another hit. Bart only groaned this time.
"Shields at seventy-six percent, minimal radiation exposure," Lieutenant Coco said.
"So what's impractical about it?" Magno queried.
"The beam's not collimated, so it disperses," Buzam explained. "They've done a decent job of focusing theirs with grav-lenses, but their effective range is still less than a million kilometers. They're barely reaching us here. They could probably take out small craft like Dreads at one-point-five or so."
"Their firing rate is about thirty seconds," the Captain observed. "Bart, where will we be then?"
"Nine hundred and fourteen thousand kay, Ma'am."
"And the next one?"
"Nine hundred and fifty thousand."
They were hit again. Bart growled angrily.
"Belvedere, will our shields hold?"
"Yes, Captain. The ship's also adapting to the attacks. That first one took us by surprise, but we're stopping each one more effectively."
Lieutenant Ortsov put in, "There are some energy readings that precede firing, too. We're getting a few seconds' warning now."
"They've got to have a fair amount of antimatter stored up," the Captain mused. "If we can get through their defenses they'll blow themselves to bits."
"That was another objection to the concept." BC remarked in a very dry tone.
"So what's the advantage? There has to be something."
BC nodded. "There's no delay running up a reactor for each shot."
Fusion reactors were slow to respond to changing demand. It could take twenty seconds or more to raise power for a capital energy weapon.
"Captain, my survey is complete," Amarone reported. "I found sixteen, confidence ninety-nine percent. Any asteroid forts I didn't see would have to be completely powered down. We'd get plenty of warning before they could be effective."
"Very good, Lieutenant," Magno said. "Analysis. Can VanDread Jura get us in close enough to take that thing out?"
Another shot hit them as they started to work, and two more before they had an answer for her.
"No." It was unanimous.
"Details?"
"Those gamma cannons would be much more effective at shorter distances. Even with VanDread Jura's support, they'd wear our shields down before we got close enough," BC admitted reluctantly.
"The forts have limited maneuverability," Amarone said. "This one has rotated twenty degrees already. If we tried to close in, they'd bring three cannons to bear on us. We'd be toast."
"Their missiles would be a lot harder to intercept at such short range," Ketrina concluded. "They're not wasting any now, but if we went that close they'd just dump all over us."
"And those forts are covering everything we want to have a look at." Again, it wasn't really a question.
"Yes, Captain. We have to keep our distance, and we can't collect much intel from out here." BC wasn't happy about that, either.
"I think they've stopped shooting at us," Lieutenant Ortsov announced. "They're already ten seconds late."
"Range!"
"One-point-one million kilometers," Bart replied.
"Stop accelerating."
"Yes, Ma'am, cutting to zero," he said. "Moving away at just over two thousand KPS."
The tactical display had steadied itself as the ship adapted. She studied it carefully. "All those ships are holding back." She drummed her fingers on the command chair's arm. "Like they're waiting for something." She tapped them again. "I don't like it."
Heather's ship had taken her past the half-way point and was now decelerating, less than forty minutes from its mysterious destination. She was impressed by her little spaceship's performance, but still couldn't see anything there worth the trip. Rocks, rocks, more rocks, and a lot of empty space by the look of it. She checked her life-support console, and found that she had more than thirty hours remaining. If she found as much nothing as the evidence suggested at the end of her voyage, she could reach just about anywhere else in the system before it ran out. She could even go back to Gunzo, purge and recharge her air recycler — but not back to Orcadia. The man-thing might still be around.
She sipped more water, but only a little. Her hands had located the backup sanitary facility and she found it, to say the least…unappealing. A plastic bottle with a wide, triangular snout, a thick batt of absorbent material inside and a finger-operated vacuum pump. Its operation was simple, obvious, and entirely inelegant. The best that could be said for it was that she hadn't used it before her arrival here. She resolved to drink only as much as necessary.
She…consumed…two of the energy bars, as well. Lunch was a long time ago, and whatever she was supposed to be doing out here, going into it with an empty stomach and low blood sugar would probably be a mistake. The things were edible, but she wouldn't give them much more than that. They were at least two years old, but she suspected they hadn't tasted any better when new, and wouldn't taste any worse a century from now.
Heather examined her destination again, and cursed her limitation of having only one perspective on her surroundings. Her spaceship should be linked up with a host of other ships to get a better view, tied into a, a…tactical net! She shouldn't be out here all alone. She told her hands to get on that, they worked some controls, but her ship was unable to access any other sources of data. Nothing was available to her here.
And that was another thing. How did her fingers know what they were doing when she didn't? It had to be her lost memories leaking through somehow, but why weren't they letting her in on the secret? She felt almost like a spectator in her own head, watching a show she didn't understand. Her right hand suddenly reached out and patted one of the displays, then returned to the controls. Was she trying to tell herself something?
Heather shook her head irritably, causing her cloud of red hair to wave around. She was curious about what might be out here, and tempted to have a look around, but something held her back. She had a feeling, dammit, that she had to get to that nowhere spot for some damn reason or other, and that time was running short.
"We can't do anything about those forts right now," Magno said decisively. "And they're not going anywhere. We can deal with the ships. Bart, set course for those cruisers, eight-point-eight KPS squared. Dreads, Vanguards, stick close."
"Aye, Captain, setting course…accelerating."
It took the enemy a couple of minutes to figure out that they weren't still running away from the asteroid forts, but moving in to attack. Their loose formations shifted and moved behind the battle-cruiser, surrounded by gathering swarms of raider ships.
"An asteroid just exploded!" Ketrina could be excused for sounding a little excited over such an unusual occurrence. "Range, four-point-six million, bearing two-six-four by minus-one-point-five." A few seconds later she corrected herself, "No, wait, it's still there, they just blew a couple million tons of rock off the surface, with chemical explosives. Why would they do that?"
Nobody had an answer for that one. They were still wondering what to make of it when the tactical computers replaced the gray blob of an asteroid with the red symbol for an enemy ship.
"It's a ship!" Amarone burst out.
"Yes, Lieutenant, I can see it's a ship," Magno said with a complete lack of expression, or emphasis. "Do you think you could tell me a little bit more about it?"
"Sorry, Captain." Lieutenant Slaintheva's dusky skin turned a few shades darker.
"We're all surprised, Amarone," she said with amusement. "Now tell us what kind of a surprise we're looking at. A nasty one, I suspect."
"Yes, Ma'am," she said obediently. "It's…over six hundred meters long, almost two million tons…accelerating toward us, eight-point-three KPS squared. It's hard to tell anything else because it's heavily stealthed and the hull looks to be dead black. I could try to get an image, but it wouldn't be…informative. Black ship against black space."
"Bloody big ship, too," Bart grumbled. "We might be in over our heads here."
"All the more reason to whittle the odds down while we can," Magno rebuked him mildly.
BC looked up at Captain Magno. "Nobody has ever found where they build their ships. Now that we know, it's obvious. Hollow out an asteroid and build a ship inside it. Takes longer than building it in the open, but it's the perfect hide. Looks just like a rock until they blow the shell apart to let the ship out. They've probably been prepping it ever since they figured out what we're doing here."
The deck tilted under them as the Nirvana changed course and her acceleration dropped to less than two hundred meters-per-second-squared.
"Bart!" Magno demanded, "What are you doing?"
"It wasn't me!" the helmsman said desperately. "The ship just did that on its own! I couldn't stop it!"
"What do you mean, 'the ship did it'?" A little of her puzzlement showed, along with some impatience.
"The ship took over the controls," he said, a little disgruntled. "Sometimes it's got AUOCHHH—"
Bart made an agonized noise as the dome lit up a baleful red, and the deck shifted again. Lights dimmed, the main display nearly faded out, and the whole ship seemed to flinch, somehow.
"We're under attack!" Lieutenant Coco proclaimed. "Power outages and system failures all over the ship! Backup power, coming on-line now."
Normally the Nirvana was entirely powered by the Pyxis. It had been years since the former pirate ship's fusion reactor had to be brought out of standby to provide emergency power. The lights and screen brightened, red lights went out, and the ship steadied. Bart groaned, and shivered in his helm station.
"What was that?" Captain Magno sounded completely calm and in control.
Lieutenant Slaintheva was working frantically at her station, so Lieutenant Ortsov answered first. "Some sort of energy weapon from that…dreadnought? We caught just the edge of it." She shook her head. "Never seen anything like it."
"It's like the Nirvana knew it was coming, somehow," Belvedere put in.
The Nirvana suddenly turned again and put on a burst of speed, seven-point-eight KPS-squared worth. Bart yelled, "Not me, again!"
"Brace for another hit!" BC's voice rang out. They waited nervously…
"A clean miss," Belvedere said with relief. Everybody else relaxed a little, too.
"Uh, Captain," Bart said hesitantly, "we could have gotten completely clear of that first one if the ship hadn't reduced power. I think…maybe it wanted a graze, to show us what it was dodging." The ship turned again before he finished speaking. "Permission to follow the ship's lead, Captain? It seems to know what it's doing."
Magno nodded decisively. "Permission granted, Mister Garsus."
Amarone finished whatever she was doing at her station. "Captain, that ship's emissions have changed completely." She swallowed nervously. "Its energy signature is now a partial match for a Harvest Flagship. But the hull is completely different."
Those words riveted her attention. "How is that possible?"
BC pursed her/his lips. "I'd say they built that ship around a Red Pyxis core they either stripped out of a Harvest Flagship, or salvaged from a wreck." The Exec chuckled. "We've left a few of those lying around."
"Or maybe, pieces cobbled together from several wrecks," Amarone speculated. "A lot of pieces. It's putting out much more energy than we've ever seen, and it's faster, too. I'd say that ship's core is two or three times the size of the Flagships we've fought before."
"That could be it," Lorelle agreed. "No way they could have dug an intact core out of the wrecks we left behind!"
"Whatever they did, they have to be working with the Earthers." BC was scowling now. "There's no way anybody could do such an extensive modification without their help. We've suspected that for years, now we've got the proof."
They all had the same thought, at about the same time. That means anyone they've captured must be long since dead, turned over to the Harvesters to keep a few Earthers alive a while longer. That would have to be part of their deal with Earth, wouldn't it?
The Nirvana jinked again, preemptively evading another red beam. Lieutenant Celtic Midori asked, hesitantly, "How does the ship know? How to avoid the beams, I mean?"
"It's generated by a part of the Red Pyxis. Our Pyxis must be able to detect when it shoots, and where it was aimed," Commander Calessa surmised. "At this distance, the beam takes almost fifteen seconds to reach us and the ship can move out of the way before it gets here." She/he continued, somberly, "They're headed for us, though. When they get close enough, we won't have time to dodge. I give it about sixteen minutes."
"What would a hit do to us, Lieutenant Chavien?" the Captain asked.
"Beam duration is more than three seconds." She swallowed nervously. "Based on the effects of their grazing shot, my best estimate is, three direct hits would take down our shields and drain most of our power. We'd be defenseless."
"If we factor in VanDread Jura, reinforcing our shields?"
"Maybe ten shots, no more than twelve. It's the Red Pyxis, Ma'am. It drains the VanDreads' power too."
BC put in, "They can already control our movements, to an extent. They can shoot a beam we have to dodge, anywhere they want. The only directions we're free to move are directly towards that ship, or directly away from it, and they've got us backed up against those fortified asteroids.
Magno was done collecting information, and opinions. She announced her decision, and gave her orders. "We're up against sixteen asteroid forts, a medium-sized enemy fleet, some amped-up imitation of a Harvest Flagship, and a deteriorating tactical position. We are now officially In Over Our Heads. Flight Commander, Group Commander, recall our Dreads and Vanguards. Commander Ballblair, bring the hyperdrive to ready. This party's not fun any more. We're leaving."
"And I'm giving it a really bad review!" Jura broke in. A few chuckles followed as her jest eased some of their tension.
Meia and Hibiki issued commands to their respective sub-leaders for an orderly return to the mothership. Green symbols started moving towards the big green arrowhead, accompanied by a few terse comments. The general attitude was of disappointment, but relief. The Nirvana swerved around two more beam attacks before they received another shock.
"Negative on the hyperdrive, Captain! The generator is showing fluctuations, above Level Three." Bart sounded apologetic, confused and a little scared. "We're being hit with gravity pulses and we can't project a stable hyperspace field. If we try to use the hyperdrive it'll tear the ship apart!"
Parfet delivered the next piece of bad news. "Something's affecting the Pyxis, Captain. It's got red spots, energy output is down eight percent, and it's getting worse. I'm detecting some sort of…subspace noise, is the only way I can describe it. What's happening?"
Amarone looked up from her station again. "It's all coming from that ship, Captain. Gravity pulses, and some kind of spatial distortion, riding on them. The Nirvana's gravity field and shields are keeping the effects from reaching the ship itself for now, but it's disrupting space-time all around us. We…we're not exactly in normal space any more. There's nothing wrong with our hyper generator, it just can't cope with the conditions we're stuck in."
"Major Garsus, get us out of here," Captain Magno ordered. "I know it won't be easy, but do your best."
"Aye aye Captain, setting course…one-seven-one by plus-eight-three," he said, with most of his attention on what the ship's navigation system was telling him. On the big screen, the green arrowhead turned. "Accelerating, nine-point-two KPS squared. That's all I can get."
Magno nodded. "Dreads, Vanguards, take your positions. We're going through, because we have to."
"Enemy ships, on intercept course, accelerating," Lieutenant Ortsov informed them.
Twenty seconds later, Lieutenant Slaintheva spoke up. "Enemy dreadnought, changing to intercept our new course." Lines, colored shapes and numbers appeared in the display, slowly stabilizing as the tactical computers analyzed the changing situation.
"I think it's obvious that ship was specifically designed to attack the Nirvana, and the VanDreads." BC regarded their commanding officer gravely. "I think it's clear what we found here, too — some sort of advanced weapons development outpost. They've got a number of things we've never seen before. Taking this place out would be a major strategic success."
"Oh, it would," Magno agreed. "Just at the moment, though, that's kind of like planning how to stuff the tiger that's gnawing your leg off."
They swapped rather grim smiles and watched as the tactical computers refined their predictions. The image told the whole story. The enemy ships' weapon ranges overlapped with those of the asteroid forts before the Nirvana could get out of the box.
We've bought ourselves another ten minutes," BC said without emotion.
Nobody had to say 'Oh shit'; their faces said it for them, eloquently.
Author's Notes
Space tape is, of course, their equivalent of duct tape. It's vacuum-proof, and can be used to fix minor leaks.