STERN CHASE
I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm's way.
-John Paul Jones-
21 JANUARY 2213
CSS ZENSEN, NEAR THE ASTEROID BELT
INTERNATIONAL SPACE
The muted roar of the engines going to maximum burn was finally making itself felt in the cramped command bridge of the CSS Zensen and a collective sigh of relief passed through the anxious crew members.
There were many ways to hide things in an organization as monolithic as the CEGA Navy, but there was no concealing the fact that the CSS Zensen was a vessel that had clearly passed her prime sometime ago.
For a tense moment, the hull groaned as the ship accelerated. It was almost as if the Tengu-class escort carrier was resisting its crew's attempts to make her go any faster.
Then the noise from the tortured hull faded away and another more pronounced sigh of relief sounded on the Zensen's bridge. It was almost as if everyone was thankful for the fact that they were even around to sigh.
At least our drives didn't just quit on us like the last time, Lieutenant Commander Kallie Chang reflected darkly as she monitored the ship's status from her workstation. Trust the dockyard geniuses to upgrade our vehicle capacity and not give a damn about the drives . . .
At least they were under thrust now, Kallie thought consolingly to herself. That was a damn sight better than what she had been expecting from the hunk of junk that had been her home for almost a month.
As the First Officer of the CSS Zensen, it was her job to oversee the smooth running of the vessel on a daily basis. Additionally, she would be on the bridge whenever the captain wasn't. And aboard the Zensen, with Captain Roger Enfield commanding, that meant Chang was on the bridge most of the time.
Enfield was already into his fifties and had been stuck patrolling the space lanes in the dilapidated escort carrier for close to six years now. Considering that most CEGA ship captains spent no more than two years commanding their vessels before moving on, that said quite a bit about the state of his career.
Kallie didn't want to try guessing who he had pissed off in the past to end up in such a predicament. Rumors abounded, of course, though none were particularly conclusive. And none were particular pleasant considering that he was her predicament now. The man himself was an idiot, living a life of limited luxury and detachment from the rest of the crew, delegating all tasks to his First Officer and the various department heads.
The lack of a skipper who looked out for the needs of his ship and crew had palpable effects which Kallie had witnessed in her weeks as First Officer of the Zensen. Spare parts had been hard to come by before their departure from Earth orbit and crew assignments were anything but the CEGA's finest.
Zensen was relatively low in priority where resupply and refit were concerned as well and she was surprise they had been allowed to deploy at all, considering the ship's overall readiness level.
And so it was with her far-from-perfect maintenance record that Zensen embarked on her latest patrol, only to be separated from her destroyer escort barely one week into the deployment. The situation was further compounded when Captain Enfield somehow managed to offend the amiable Captain Mifune whom Enfield sent back to base to base to pick up replacement drive components to belatedly fix Zensen's ailing drive system.
It had been more than a week since they last saw the Hachiman destroyer escort CSS Yawata and Kallie was beginning to suspect that Captain Mifune was deliberately dragging his feet. Not that she would have blamed him. Most of Zensen's crew wouldn't think twice if they had been given the chance to legally place their captain on the wrong side of an airlock without a spacesuit. But word had it that Yawata would finally be joining them before the day was over.
Not that it would have mattered since the patrol had been completely uneventful.
Until now . . .
Now, the Zensen's ancient drives were being run flat out as the escort carrier roared in pursuit of a suspected STRIKE vessel fleeing towards the Belt. Joint Services Intelligence had identified the Solar Wanderer (if that was even her real name), a heavily-modified Inari-class liner as a vessel modified for use by the elusive terrorist organization.
Apparently a Bricriu-class corvette had stopped the Wanderer on a routine customs spot check just as the JSI warning had gone out. The Wanderer then feigned communications difficulties, claiming inability to fully receive the CEGA vessel's demands. When the corvette tried to close to initiate a boarding operation, it came under fire from previously concealed weapons emplacements. Taken by surprise, the CEGA had been left crippled while the Wanderer made good her escape.
The brass were calling them STRIKE terrorists, but it sounded more like the average, desperate smuggler to Kallie. The bigshots have a habit of branding most piratical and smuggler scum as STRIKE operatives. Good for morale, Kallie thought darkly. Puts a face to highly effective terrorists whom we've never really caught and whose motives are never quite known . . .
"Contact, contact," the sensors operator called out as he hunched over his console. "I'm holding one steady sensor contact dead ahead. Range eleven hundred klicks."
"On the main display, please." Lieutenant Commander Chang spoke, shaken from her reverie. She had barely finished speaking when a miniaturized version of a sensor repeater display appeared up on the spherical display that wrapped around the bridge crew. Their quarry was highlighted in red, with heading and velocity information scrolling next to the blip.
"She's pretty hot on the infrared. Not trying to hide. Just plain running," came the update from the sensor operator.
"And wasting a whole lot of re-mass." Zensen's First Officer observed. No, these weren't STRIKE operatives for sure. They were just too stupid. "Sensors, is she what we're looking for?"
"Signature's about right . . . Yes, she's definitely an Inari. And there aren't any more of those around . . ." The sensor operator shrugged. "Funny that they didn't even try to change course. They just kept on running after shooting up the Bric. Not very smart for STRIKE terrorists, eh, ma'am?"
"No, not smart at all. Looks like HQ is chasing phantoms again." Chang sighed as she studied the sensor contact. It was still burning reaction mass like crazy and Zensen was straining to catch up.
True, Zensen had better acceleration, but the Wanderer had been thrusting for a lot longer and Zensen's drives weren't exactly first rate. That they had even managed to get within sensor range so quickly was due more to Zensen's fortuitous positioning rather than the skill of the escort carrier's crew. "Ivan, could you inform the Skipper that we may have found what we're looking for?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ensign Ivan Chuikov, the communications operator on duty replied crisply. "Right away, ma'am."
"Oh, and it would be nice if you could extend my invitation to Captain Enfield to join us on the bridge now that we have finally located our target."
The young Ensign's features creased slightly to reveal a wry smile and Chang noted several similar looks on the faces of the other bridge crew. She had never imagined herself maligning a superior officer until she had met Enfield.
She pushed thoughts of Zensen's inept captain aside and tried to focus on the task at hand. With Zensen charging up from behind with its active sensors pinging away, the Wanderer was bound to have detected them by now.
Ideally, whoever was in command of the fleeing vessel would realize what he or she was up against and finally quit running. It wouldn't be half as exciting, but at least they would save on reaction mass. And there was also the decreased likelihood of their reactor going critical and atomizing them all.
"So we've found the STRIKE scum now, have we?" Everyone cringed collectively as a voice that had not been heard on the bridge in nearly a week filtered through the doors that slid open.
Captain Enfield was a short, scrawny and irascible fellow who possess the rare ability to annoy everyone he came into contact with. Even after having the most frequent dealings with the man out of the entire ship's complement, she wasn't sure what she disliked most about him.
Maybe it was how he was simply so flippant towards his duties as Captain of the Zensen. Maybe it was his arrogant attitude toward anyone junior to him in rank. Or perhaps it was the way he didn't think anyone could seriously challenge the CEGA. It was a vicious cycle, Kallie thought. Since Enfield did little to prove himself, Zensen would be relegated to low-threat, routine patrols of shipping lanes where they were unlikely run into anything more than the occasional pirate or smuggler.
Perhaps what Kallie Chang hated most about her commander was the fact that he was a spineless poseur who played the part of the dashing champion of the CEGA that he was not.
Sometimes, she wondered if her captain was lost in his own world or was truly stupid enough to think himself such a good actor. Swallowing her anger, she rotated in her seat to face Enfield as he floated awkwardly towards his command chair located in the centre of the bridge sphere. He looked slightly flushed and she tried to ignore the light odor of alcohol about him as he strapped in clumsily.
"How sure are we that she's the Wanderer, Chang?" Enfield asked as he finally managed to secure himself into the seat.
"No other ships of the class have been detected in the area. And as far as we know, no Inaris are scheduled to be in the area for another four hours." Chang replied, peeved that the Captain would acknowledge her as the First Officer, addressing her by her surname instead.
"Is she running?"
"Aye, Skipper. She's still running." The First Officer confirmed.
"Then it's the STRIKE scum." Enfield declared simplistically.
Chang cleared her throat tentatively then said, "It's hard to believe this bunch of amateurs are really STRIKE terrorists."
"They're terrorists, Chang." Enfield declared with a sweeping motion of his arm that almost pitched him out of his seat if it weren't for the harness that held him back. "They're supposed to be amateurs."
"Sir," Chang almost wanted to ask the Captain if he was drunk but he seemed to steady himself with extreme effort and he looked lucid enough to take the question as grievous insult rather than concern expressed by his First Officer. "They haven't changed course since they shot up the Bric and ran. They've made no attempt to hide. They're just running flat out."
"So? They're just a stupid bunch of terrorists who panicked after making the mistake of taking on the CEGA Navy." Enfield replied haughtily. "I'm sure you don't doubt the reliability of our JSI's efforts now, do you?"
Chang found herself grinding her teeth and forcing her frustration back inside her. "What are your orders, Captain?"
"Comms, hail them." Enfield said crisply, dispelling the illusion that he was hopelessly intoxicated. "Let them know we're here and tell them they had better heave to and prepared to be board. All that usual jazz, yeah?"
"Aye aye, Skipper," the Ensign replied precisely, his tone betraying none of the sentiment he felt for his commander. "What should I tell them if they refuse to stop?"
"You tell them that I will take savage delight in using their vessel as target practice for my missile crews."
"Aye, sir,"
"Attention civilian Inari, this is the CSS Zensen. We are currently coming up your stern. Heave to and prepare to be boarded." Chuikov was saying into his headset mike. "Civilian Inari, this is the CSS Zensen, acknowledge please."
Chuikov made several more attempts, the mood on the bridge growing tauter with each unanswered query.
"Weapons, prepare your missiles for launch." Enfield said calmly.
"Uh, Captain . . ." Kallie looked over her shoulder at Zensen's commander. "Shouldn't we scramble our exos. A couple of laser bolts across the bow would be more economical than using our missile bay."
"Economical?" Enfield laughed. It was a sound that made Kallie's hair stand. "How is scrambling a pair of exos any more economical? I'm not going to risk them to return fire."
"But, Captain . . ." Chang was wondering whether she ought to lecture her captain on the proper employment of a carrier and its embarked exos but Enfield was having none of that.
"Besides, Chang." The slick, oily quality in the Captain's tone made Chang's blood go cold. "Whatever gave you the impression that I was going to fire a warning shot?"
Chang heard a sharp intake of breath across the bridge and she was about to explode forth in protest when the communications operator beat her to it.
"Captain!" Chuikov cried out suddenly. "Target is broadcasting!"
"Then put me through, Comms!" Enfield said impatiently, sounding almost unhappy that the freighter had chosen to communicate. He would have been more than happy to destroy the fleeing vessel. "What are you waiting for?"
"She's not signaling us, Skipper." Chuikov said sheepishly.
"Not . . . signaling us?" Enfield repeated, failing to comprehend. "What . . ."
Chuikov hit a switch a panicked voice filtered through the speakers though the video output remained blank.
". . . day! Requesting immediate assistance from all receivers! Repeat. Mayday, mayday! This is the Solar Wanderer! SOS! SOS! Requesting immediate assistance. All receivers, please home in on this signal . . ."
"Damn it, Ensign!" Enfield roared as he thumped the armrest on his command chair. "What are you waiting for? Jam that transmission now!"
"Aye, Skipper!"
"Captain," Chang began. "About the exos . . ."
"Fine, fine, fine!" Enfield threw his hands aside in an angry gesture. "Bring us to Readiness Four and get the ready exos out there now!"