Surprise, surprise. Another chapter in this fanfic based on
Bombsquad's original idea. Remember, I don't own nothing. Nothing there
is that I own. Owning things is something I do not do. Get the picture?
I'm writing this as a little sabbatical from my other works, as they seem to have attracted no attraction lately.
So, please, if you have enjoyed this fic, send a review. If you dislike the fic, please review, and I shall attempt to alter the fic in order to satisfy your demands. If you're too lazy to review, then bugger off. No, not really. Just read the story please.
&&&&&&
Idaho crouched down on the rock he was on, and looked into the distance. Approximately five kilometres away was one of the three frigates that had landed on this ringworld. A gust of wind blew his hair over his balding spot. He shifted it back distractedly, looking up. The sight was disconcerting to say the least. It is hard to imagine you are on the ground when you can see land above you.
A rustling sound distracted his thoughts. He turned to see one of the soldiers run up to him. The soldier wiped sweat off of his face, then stood to attention. "Captain Idaho, sir! We have successfully made contact with the nearest frigate. They shall be sending a carryall in three standard minutes."
Idaho nodded, then leapt off from the boulder, landing heavily on his feet. He brushed his uniform and straightened his cap. He marched over to the soldiers from the crusher.
Brief snatches of conversation reached his ears. "Hey! Feel that under your dogs? That ain't gravity, man!" "God, I feel as if I've broken at least five of my ribs with that landing..." "Yeah, blame the pilot for that, I ain't responsible." "Can it! It's the Captain!"
The soldiers stood more or less to attention. Idaho strode in front of them, inspecting their stance and appearance. Most of them were commoners... but they would have to do. After all, it was not expected for anything like this to occur. He stopped and faced them.
"Men, good news. Thanks to our radio operative, we have managed to let that frigate know that we are here, and they are going to send us some air support to pick us up. So, no need for an early morning constitutional." He smiled thinly at hearing the slightly forced and exhausted laughs.
"However, do not be lead to believe that your immediate life is going to be as pampered as this. We are going to need your skills soon, so get as much rest as you can. You'll need it." He nodded, biting his lower lip. "At ease."
"Sir?" One soldier raised his hand slowly, the grime on his face giving him a shadowy appearance. "Will there be any medical facilities? It's just that some of us have sustained injuries."
"Don't worry, soldier. There are going to be several doctors of the Suk School there, and I'm sure they're just dying to practise their skills." Idaho's lips drew over his teeth in a parody of a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine."
He turned away from the soldiers, pacing the slope the group was on. He noticed the crusher's pilot sitting on the edge, his legs kicking out into space lazily. The pilot turned, his peculiar eyes staring into Idaho's face.
"Did you hear, pilot?" Idaho asked. The pilot nodded in answer, then turned back to stare at the lack of horizon. Both men waited in silence, the faint binary suns bathing them in a weak light. Up ahead, they saw strange structures and alien vessels. Idaho sniffed uncomfortably. This was an unknown area. No-one had anticipated something like this.
"That damnable Navigator..." The pilot muttered. Idaho started from his thoughts. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.
The pilot looked down over the edge of the precipice. "If only he had looked over his own private dislike of the CHOAM, then we may have gotten this job done on time." He looked back up at the Covenant dropships moving ponderously along the mountain ridges. "Now, we're in this situation."
Idaho shrugged. "We are all humans. We all have our little areas of pettiness. Even someone as infallible as a Navigator must have them." He looked back at the pilot. "Do you know why we were given this assignment anyway? I presume it is due to those..." he indicated the alien aircraft idly. "...things, is it not so?"
"We were given some information from the Bene Gesserit which suggested that this ring harboured within it some great danger. I must admit, I didn't believe that was so, until these monsters appeared."
Idaho snorted angrily. "Damn, Bene Gesserit witches..." he turned back with a thoughtful look. "Within the ring, did they say?"
The pilot nodded.
"Strange... these creatures came from the ring, but not from within it." Idaho pursed his lips. "They must have made a mistake. I wouldn't put it past those damnable women."
"Damnable they may be," the pilot pointed out, "but they have been invaluable for the development of the entire Empire. Without them, we would have descended into anarchy."
"Yes, but that does not give them the right to act so superior towards the rest of the Emperor's subjects." Idaho replied. A hissing sound on the edge of his hearing made him look up into the skies. A large craft was clumsily flying towards their position.
"Soldiers!" Idaho yelled, turning back to the resting conscripts. "Look sharp! Evac coming in! Somebody, let off a jetflare!"
There was a general rush of movement, with soldiers picking up equipment and waving at the craft. One of the troopers picked up a jetflare and pulled the pin. The magnesium fuel ignited with a blinding flash of light. The carryall wiggled its wings, indicating it had seen the group. It descended towards their position, its massive turbines slowing as it began to decelerate.
"Everybody, get yourself ready! I expect us to leave in two minutes, max!" Idaho yelled. He turned and pulled the Guildsman up to his feet. "Come on, man. We're getting out of this place!" They both ran towards the hovering craft, and joined the rest of the troopers in the holding bay. The door shut behind them, and a sudden pulling sensation indicated that they were moving away from the crash site.
Idaho sighed in relief, and rested his head against the cold, hard metal of the bulkhead. He closed his eyes, listening to the dull hum and hiss of the engines. Slowly, slowly, by irresistible degrees, he fell asleep.
&&&&&&
Mentat Toure Bomoko sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he inspected the flow of data coming in from a portable terminal. Even he felt tired from the recent ordeal. It had all started when the contents of the frigate were being unloaded, with soldiers positioning themselves at certain defensive points.
A sudden surge in local energy stations caused several sensors to explode, unable to measure the astronomical amount of power being used. White light, brighter then that of a jetflare, had formed at the centre of the ring. A flash which outshone the binary stars enveloped their position. When they could look back, four new ships, clearly not any form of Spacing Guild ship had appeared. A brief transmission from the Heighliner was suddenly cut off as the new ships engaged their previous transport.
Bomoko was astounded. Ship-to-ship weaponry! No-one had thought of applying any technology that way, but then again, all ships were under the jurisdiction of the Guild. That is, up until now.
Even from the surface, the Mentats could see the silent battle being fought out in outer orbit. An hour passed, and then the first of the crushers fell from the ship. More followed. A steady rain of ships fell from space for ten minutes. Then, to Bomoko's utter surprise, the Heighliner was destroyed.
Bomoko and the other Mentats could see immediately that it was an internal, and hence self-inflicted, detonation which caused the main reactor breach, but still... the mere thought of destroying a Heighliner shook the very foundation's of Bomoko's mind, until it threatened to overthrow his Mentat training.
Radio transmissions from nearby crushers came in soon after that. Carryalls which had survived the landing were sent to far-off crushers. Nearer crash-site victims had to either walk or wait for ground transport. Reinforcements were amassing at all three of the landed frigates.
Of course, the refugees were not the most important problem, far from it. The aliens who had attacked them were foremost in every Mentat's mind. Early reports were garbled, and were of little help, but minor skirmishes against picket forces found on the ringworld brought back enough information to reach valid conclusions about the creatures. To the Bomoko's horror, the alien craft had positioned themselves, and were landing their own troops and vehicles to use against them.
Then, of course, was the fact that they now had no way of getting of off this vile place. Even if they did have access to a transport, how could they outrun the alien vessels?
Finally, there was the ring itself. The Mentats had tried to interrogate the Guildsmen about their mission, but it seemed only the Navigator had true knowledge about their mission, and now he was dead, which was a minor setback.
Still, all was not bad news. A recent radio report had indicated that Captain Idaho, commander of the conscripts, had survived the assault on the Heighliner, and he was now on his way to the frigate Bomoko was on. At least there was someone who could control the rabble of the soldiers while the Mentats calculated what to do next.
Nearby pacing distracted Bomoko from his thoughts, and he saw Guildsman Herbert walking across the deck again. Ever since he had been transported to the frigate he had seemed uneasy. A sharp, pungent smell of a match striking assaulted his nose. The temporary spokesman for the conscripts, a Colonel Bashar Halloway, was lighting a small cigarillo. He breathed in the fumes, then blew the smoke out of his cavernous nostrils like some type of elderly dragon. Bomoko wrinkled his face in mild disgust.
The sound of the portal to the frigate's bridge caught his attention. From the corridor walked a short man in a resplendent uniform. Blonde, thin hair danced across his thin, narrow-set face. His rodent-like eyes moved from one man to the next to the next. Captain Idaho had arrived.
Bomoko stood up, holding his hand out to the man. "Greetings. I am Bomoko. I presume you are Captain Idaho?"
The man nodded curtly, his eyes focusing briefly on Bomoko's carmine lips. "I presume you are a Mentat, then?" He asked.
Bomoko inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. May I introduce you to the remainder of our conclave, Colonel Bashar Halloway and Guildsman Herbert."
Idaho nodded. "I have heard of Halloway, and your reputation is matched by the proficiency of your men." Halloway nodded, accepting the compliment.
Idaho turned, facing Herbert with a sneer. "So, next time you receive direct orders from the Emperor, will your type be so willing as to be so slow in responding?" He asked. Herbert glared at him in response.
Idaho turned back towards Bomoko. "What is the status of our position on this ringworld?"
Bomoko sighed, and turned back to the portable terminal. He quickly scrolled through the data, checking his original calculations. "Well, Captain. If our data here is correct, we have approximately forty-five percent of our personnel present from the Heighliner on this ringworld." He looked up at Idaho, his eyes serious. "These forces have mostly congregated at the three frigates, but there still are some forces which are taking positions outwith the frigates. We have a full two wings of military ornithopters, one half wing of transport ornithopters and one wing of carryalls."
Idaho nodded. "What about the condition of our ground transport? How many tanks and such do we possess?"
Bomoko shrugged. "Inventory reports are still coming in, but we appear to have almost two, maybe three, hundred combat tanks and fifty siege tanks. We have full brigades of both trikes and quads. But otherwise, we have no other vehicle support."
"What about enemy units? Do we have any intelligence on them?"
"None whatsoever bar their name; the Covenant. All we do know is that their troops and vehicles have weaponry superior to ours." Bomoko grimaced. "Things are looking grim."
Idaho turned to Herbert. "How long will it be before the Spacing Guild sends another ship to investigate our sudden radio silence?"
Herbert looked up, sweat beading on his forehead. He chewed his lip, and his blue-on-blue eyes flitted slightly. "Ten days, Captain."
"Ten days?" Halloway exclaimed. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're not going to survive ten fucking hours on this place! You saw how quickly they decimated our forces on the Heighliner!" He looked at Idaho. "Captain, tell him!"
"Look," Herbert said in a calm voice that fooled no-one. "The Heighliner is designed for space transport, not for military sorties. I'm sure that if we dig ourselves in, we can easily survive that long..." Herbert looked at Bomoko hopefully.
Bomoko shook his head. "Giving what limited data I have, I doubt we'd last half as long a time."
Herbert whimpered slightly. Halloway groaned, throwing his cigarillo away in disgust. Idaho just shut his eyes.
"Besides," Bomoko continued, "even if we did survive that long, what is to stop the aliens from shooting the ship down before it began landing any dropships to pick us up?"
"I'm sure that another shielded Heighliner could survive such an assault." Herbert added. He then glared at Idaho. "Especially without any of the crew causing the main reactor to go critical."
Bomoko shook his head. "Those ships could still follow the Heighliner to other places, and call in reinforcements. If such a thing happened, it would be disasterous."
Halloway looked thoughtful. "Why haven't the Covenant called in reinforcements already?"
"It seems to me that the Covenant will not use many soldiers if they believe that they can beat the enemy with what they have." Bomoko looked up, and a rare smile graced his face, the crimson teeth glinting slightly in the glowglobes' light. "This could be a weakness we could exploit."
"What of the Covenant vessels? Where are they now?" Idaho asked.
"They are currently a few metres off of the ringworlds' surface." A solido tri-D projection activated, showing the ring. "They have 'landed' at the positions indicated." Bomoko stated, pointing to several purple markers. "They are deploying troops using landing craft and a form of elevator, which we Mentats have termed a 'gravity lift'. Small skirmish forces have been sent to inspect the areas around these craft."
Idaho nodded, his eyes still closed. "What about this ringworld? Do we have any information about it?"
Bomoko stared at Idaho steadily. "We have..." he started slowly, "made small investigations into the workings of this place. We have so far managed to get some information as to where certain main terminals are in this place, to whit, a map room, a control centre, and a munitions camp."
"Munitions?" Halloway asked, raising his eyebrow.
Bomoko pulled an apologetic face. "We're not too sure where that is exactly. We're not sure if it is even a munitions camp. It translates roughly as 'weapons holding pens'. However, we have pin-pointed the other two locations." Two new markers, both blue, appeared on the hologram. "One is at an arctic location, while another is present on a small island in the sea twenty rotations up from this position." Bomoko looked up at the three men. "A strike force has been sent to secure the map-room, but the control centre has been already approached by Covenant forces."
Idaho put a finger to his lips. "What does the control room allow the user to do?"
Bomoko shrugged. "We're not sure, but I should imagine that it would control all mechanics on this ringworld."
"Could we transfer control from that position to another position?" Idaho asked.
Bomoko nodded. "Presumably..."
"So, how well can we defend the map-room?"
"Very well. Already our troops have discovered several structures which allow the lock-down of the map-room..." Bomoko trailed off, then nodded faintly. "I see where you are going with this, Captain. You think it possible to transfer full ringworld control to the map-room. Most cunning. Yes, that is feasible."
"How long would it take?" Halloway asked.
"I don't know, I've only had limited exposure to the workings of this place, but I should imagine only a few minutes..."
"Wait," Herbert interrupted, "let us say we manage to do these tasks you have just brought up. What good will that do us? We will still be outgunned and wiped out, it'll just take more time to do so."
Bomoko smirked. "What you have not taken into account, my dear Guildsman, is that with the control room in our grasp, we can continue with the original mission."
"What, destroying the ring? How can you think of that right now?"
"It gives us a bargaining chip." Halloway muttered. "If we are reduced to a stand-off, we can detonate the atomics, and take the Covenant with us."
"Do we have enough atomics?"
"More than enough." Bomoko reassured.
Idaho started to pace the frigate's deck. He turned and faced the other three men. "Well, it seems as if we have gotten ourselves in a pretty pickle. However, I believe it is possible for us to win through." He turned to face Bomoko. "How soon can a strike force be arranged to take control of the control room?"
"Twenty minutes, I estimate."
"I want it done in fifteen. Get yourself or one of your lackeys ready for a trip. Dress warm. Be sure to send extra reinforcements to the map-room, and ensure that these frigates do not get destroyed. Those are my orders." Idaho looked at Herbert. "Unless of course, you have something to add...?"
"None, Captain."
"Good. Now, let's get going!"
&&&&&&
Finally! Another chapter done! In under twelve hours! Please R&R, tell me what you think.
I'm writing this as a little sabbatical from my other works, as they seem to have attracted no attraction lately.
So, please, if you have enjoyed this fic, send a review. If you dislike the fic, please review, and I shall attempt to alter the fic in order to satisfy your demands. If you're too lazy to review, then bugger off. No, not really. Just read the story please.
&&&&&&
Idaho crouched down on the rock he was on, and looked into the distance. Approximately five kilometres away was one of the three frigates that had landed on this ringworld. A gust of wind blew his hair over his balding spot. He shifted it back distractedly, looking up. The sight was disconcerting to say the least. It is hard to imagine you are on the ground when you can see land above you.
A rustling sound distracted his thoughts. He turned to see one of the soldiers run up to him. The soldier wiped sweat off of his face, then stood to attention. "Captain Idaho, sir! We have successfully made contact with the nearest frigate. They shall be sending a carryall in three standard minutes."
Idaho nodded, then leapt off from the boulder, landing heavily on his feet. He brushed his uniform and straightened his cap. He marched over to the soldiers from the crusher.
Brief snatches of conversation reached his ears. "Hey! Feel that under your dogs? That ain't gravity, man!" "God, I feel as if I've broken at least five of my ribs with that landing..." "Yeah, blame the pilot for that, I ain't responsible." "Can it! It's the Captain!"
The soldiers stood more or less to attention. Idaho strode in front of them, inspecting their stance and appearance. Most of them were commoners... but they would have to do. After all, it was not expected for anything like this to occur. He stopped and faced them.
"Men, good news. Thanks to our radio operative, we have managed to let that frigate know that we are here, and they are going to send us some air support to pick us up. So, no need for an early morning constitutional." He smiled thinly at hearing the slightly forced and exhausted laughs.
"However, do not be lead to believe that your immediate life is going to be as pampered as this. We are going to need your skills soon, so get as much rest as you can. You'll need it." He nodded, biting his lower lip. "At ease."
"Sir?" One soldier raised his hand slowly, the grime on his face giving him a shadowy appearance. "Will there be any medical facilities? It's just that some of us have sustained injuries."
"Don't worry, soldier. There are going to be several doctors of the Suk School there, and I'm sure they're just dying to practise their skills." Idaho's lips drew over his teeth in a parody of a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine."
He turned away from the soldiers, pacing the slope the group was on. He noticed the crusher's pilot sitting on the edge, his legs kicking out into space lazily. The pilot turned, his peculiar eyes staring into Idaho's face.
"Did you hear, pilot?" Idaho asked. The pilot nodded in answer, then turned back to stare at the lack of horizon. Both men waited in silence, the faint binary suns bathing them in a weak light. Up ahead, they saw strange structures and alien vessels. Idaho sniffed uncomfortably. This was an unknown area. No-one had anticipated something like this.
"That damnable Navigator..." The pilot muttered. Idaho started from his thoughts. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.
The pilot looked down over the edge of the precipice. "If only he had looked over his own private dislike of the CHOAM, then we may have gotten this job done on time." He looked back up at the Covenant dropships moving ponderously along the mountain ridges. "Now, we're in this situation."
Idaho shrugged. "We are all humans. We all have our little areas of pettiness. Even someone as infallible as a Navigator must have them." He looked back at the pilot. "Do you know why we were given this assignment anyway? I presume it is due to those..." he indicated the alien aircraft idly. "...things, is it not so?"
"We were given some information from the Bene Gesserit which suggested that this ring harboured within it some great danger. I must admit, I didn't believe that was so, until these monsters appeared."
Idaho snorted angrily. "Damn, Bene Gesserit witches..." he turned back with a thoughtful look. "Within the ring, did they say?"
The pilot nodded.
"Strange... these creatures came from the ring, but not from within it." Idaho pursed his lips. "They must have made a mistake. I wouldn't put it past those damnable women."
"Damnable they may be," the pilot pointed out, "but they have been invaluable for the development of the entire Empire. Without them, we would have descended into anarchy."
"Yes, but that does not give them the right to act so superior towards the rest of the Emperor's subjects." Idaho replied. A hissing sound on the edge of his hearing made him look up into the skies. A large craft was clumsily flying towards their position.
"Soldiers!" Idaho yelled, turning back to the resting conscripts. "Look sharp! Evac coming in! Somebody, let off a jetflare!"
There was a general rush of movement, with soldiers picking up equipment and waving at the craft. One of the troopers picked up a jetflare and pulled the pin. The magnesium fuel ignited with a blinding flash of light. The carryall wiggled its wings, indicating it had seen the group. It descended towards their position, its massive turbines slowing as it began to decelerate.
"Everybody, get yourself ready! I expect us to leave in two minutes, max!" Idaho yelled. He turned and pulled the Guildsman up to his feet. "Come on, man. We're getting out of this place!" They both ran towards the hovering craft, and joined the rest of the troopers in the holding bay. The door shut behind them, and a sudden pulling sensation indicated that they were moving away from the crash site.
Idaho sighed in relief, and rested his head against the cold, hard metal of the bulkhead. He closed his eyes, listening to the dull hum and hiss of the engines. Slowly, slowly, by irresistible degrees, he fell asleep.
&&&&&&
Mentat Toure Bomoko sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he inspected the flow of data coming in from a portable terminal. Even he felt tired from the recent ordeal. It had all started when the contents of the frigate were being unloaded, with soldiers positioning themselves at certain defensive points.
A sudden surge in local energy stations caused several sensors to explode, unable to measure the astronomical amount of power being used. White light, brighter then that of a jetflare, had formed at the centre of the ring. A flash which outshone the binary stars enveloped their position. When they could look back, four new ships, clearly not any form of Spacing Guild ship had appeared. A brief transmission from the Heighliner was suddenly cut off as the new ships engaged their previous transport.
Bomoko was astounded. Ship-to-ship weaponry! No-one had thought of applying any technology that way, but then again, all ships were under the jurisdiction of the Guild. That is, up until now.
Even from the surface, the Mentats could see the silent battle being fought out in outer orbit. An hour passed, and then the first of the crushers fell from the ship. More followed. A steady rain of ships fell from space for ten minutes. Then, to Bomoko's utter surprise, the Heighliner was destroyed.
Bomoko and the other Mentats could see immediately that it was an internal, and hence self-inflicted, detonation which caused the main reactor breach, but still... the mere thought of destroying a Heighliner shook the very foundation's of Bomoko's mind, until it threatened to overthrow his Mentat training.
Radio transmissions from nearby crushers came in soon after that. Carryalls which had survived the landing were sent to far-off crushers. Nearer crash-site victims had to either walk or wait for ground transport. Reinforcements were amassing at all three of the landed frigates.
Of course, the refugees were not the most important problem, far from it. The aliens who had attacked them were foremost in every Mentat's mind. Early reports were garbled, and were of little help, but minor skirmishes against picket forces found on the ringworld brought back enough information to reach valid conclusions about the creatures. To the Bomoko's horror, the alien craft had positioned themselves, and were landing their own troops and vehicles to use against them.
Then, of course, was the fact that they now had no way of getting of off this vile place. Even if they did have access to a transport, how could they outrun the alien vessels?
Finally, there was the ring itself. The Mentats had tried to interrogate the Guildsmen about their mission, but it seemed only the Navigator had true knowledge about their mission, and now he was dead, which was a minor setback.
Still, all was not bad news. A recent radio report had indicated that Captain Idaho, commander of the conscripts, had survived the assault on the Heighliner, and he was now on his way to the frigate Bomoko was on. At least there was someone who could control the rabble of the soldiers while the Mentats calculated what to do next.
Nearby pacing distracted Bomoko from his thoughts, and he saw Guildsman Herbert walking across the deck again. Ever since he had been transported to the frigate he had seemed uneasy. A sharp, pungent smell of a match striking assaulted his nose. The temporary spokesman for the conscripts, a Colonel Bashar Halloway, was lighting a small cigarillo. He breathed in the fumes, then blew the smoke out of his cavernous nostrils like some type of elderly dragon. Bomoko wrinkled his face in mild disgust.
The sound of the portal to the frigate's bridge caught his attention. From the corridor walked a short man in a resplendent uniform. Blonde, thin hair danced across his thin, narrow-set face. His rodent-like eyes moved from one man to the next to the next. Captain Idaho had arrived.
Bomoko stood up, holding his hand out to the man. "Greetings. I am Bomoko. I presume you are Captain Idaho?"
The man nodded curtly, his eyes focusing briefly on Bomoko's carmine lips. "I presume you are a Mentat, then?" He asked.
Bomoko inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. May I introduce you to the remainder of our conclave, Colonel Bashar Halloway and Guildsman Herbert."
Idaho nodded. "I have heard of Halloway, and your reputation is matched by the proficiency of your men." Halloway nodded, accepting the compliment.
Idaho turned, facing Herbert with a sneer. "So, next time you receive direct orders from the Emperor, will your type be so willing as to be so slow in responding?" He asked. Herbert glared at him in response.
Idaho turned back towards Bomoko. "What is the status of our position on this ringworld?"
Bomoko sighed, and turned back to the portable terminal. He quickly scrolled through the data, checking his original calculations. "Well, Captain. If our data here is correct, we have approximately forty-five percent of our personnel present from the Heighliner on this ringworld." He looked up at Idaho, his eyes serious. "These forces have mostly congregated at the three frigates, but there still are some forces which are taking positions outwith the frigates. We have a full two wings of military ornithopters, one half wing of transport ornithopters and one wing of carryalls."
Idaho nodded. "What about the condition of our ground transport? How many tanks and such do we possess?"
Bomoko shrugged. "Inventory reports are still coming in, but we appear to have almost two, maybe three, hundred combat tanks and fifty siege tanks. We have full brigades of both trikes and quads. But otherwise, we have no other vehicle support."
"What about enemy units? Do we have any intelligence on them?"
"None whatsoever bar their name; the Covenant. All we do know is that their troops and vehicles have weaponry superior to ours." Bomoko grimaced. "Things are looking grim."
Idaho turned to Herbert. "How long will it be before the Spacing Guild sends another ship to investigate our sudden radio silence?"
Herbert looked up, sweat beading on his forehead. He chewed his lip, and his blue-on-blue eyes flitted slightly. "Ten days, Captain."
"Ten days?" Halloway exclaimed. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're not going to survive ten fucking hours on this place! You saw how quickly they decimated our forces on the Heighliner!" He looked at Idaho. "Captain, tell him!"
"Look," Herbert said in a calm voice that fooled no-one. "The Heighliner is designed for space transport, not for military sorties. I'm sure that if we dig ourselves in, we can easily survive that long..." Herbert looked at Bomoko hopefully.
Bomoko shook his head. "Giving what limited data I have, I doubt we'd last half as long a time."
Herbert whimpered slightly. Halloway groaned, throwing his cigarillo away in disgust. Idaho just shut his eyes.
"Besides," Bomoko continued, "even if we did survive that long, what is to stop the aliens from shooting the ship down before it began landing any dropships to pick us up?"
"I'm sure that another shielded Heighliner could survive such an assault." Herbert added. He then glared at Idaho. "Especially without any of the crew causing the main reactor to go critical."
Bomoko shook his head. "Those ships could still follow the Heighliner to other places, and call in reinforcements. If such a thing happened, it would be disasterous."
Halloway looked thoughtful. "Why haven't the Covenant called in reinforcements already?"
"It seems to me that the Covenant will not use many soldiers if they believe that they can beat the enemy with what they have." Bomoko looked up, and a rare smile graced his face, the crimson teeth glinting slightly in the glowglobes' light. "This could be a weakness we could exploit."
"What of the Covenant vessels? Where are they now?" Idaho asked.
"They are currently a few metres off of the ringworlds' surface." A solido tri-D projection activated, showing the ring. "They have 'landed' at the positions indicated." Bomoko stated, pointing to several purple markers. "They are deploying troops using landing craft and a form of elevator, which we Mentats have termed a 'gravity lift'. Small skirmish forces have been sent to inspect the areas around these craft."
Idaho nodded, his eyes still closed. "What about this ringworld? Do we have any information about it?"
Bomoko stared at Idaho steadily. "We have..." he started slowly, "made small investigations into the workings of this place. We have so far managed to get some information as to where certain main terminals are in this place, to whit, a map room, a control centre, and a munitions camp."
"Munitions?" Halloway asked, raising his eyebrow.
Bomoko pulled an apologetic face. "We're not too sure where that is exactly. We're not sure if it is even a munitions camp. It translates roughly as 'weapons holding pens'. However, we have pin-pointed the other two locations." Two new markers, both blue, appeared on the hologram. "One is at an arctic location, while another is present on a small island in the sea twenty rotations up from this position." Bomoko looked up at the three men. "A strike force has been sent to secure the map-room, but the control centre has been already approached by Covenant forces."
Idaho put a finger to his lips. "What does the control room allow the user to do?"
Bomoko shrugged. "We're not sure, but I should imagine that it would control all mechanics on this ringworld."
"Could we transfer control from that position to another position?" Idaho asked.
Bomoko nodded. "Presumably..."
"So, how well can we defend the map-room?"
"Very well. Already our troops have discovered several structures which allow the lock-down of the map-room..." Bomoko trailed off, then nodded faintly. "I see where you are going with this, Captain. You think it possible to transfer full ringworld control to the map-room. Most cunning. Yes, that is feasible."
"How long would it take?" Halloway asked.
"I don't know, I've only had limited exposure to the workings of this place, but I should imagine only a few minutes..."
"Wait," Herbert interrupted, "let us say we manage to do these tasks you have just brought up. What good will that do us? We will still be outgunned and wiped out, it'll just take more time to do so."
Bomoko smirked. "What you have not taken into account, my dear Guildsman, is that with the control room in our grasp, we can continue with the original mission."
"What, destroying the ring? How can you think of that right now?"
"It gives us a bargaining chip." Halloway muttered. "If we are reduced to a stand-off, we can detonate the atomics, and take the Covenant with us."
"Do we have enough atomics?"
"More than enough." Bomoko reassured.
Idaho started to pace the frigate's deck. He turned and faced the other three men. "Well, it seems as if we have gotten ourselves in a pretty pickle. However, I believe it is possible for us to win through." He turned to face Bomoko. "How soon can a strike force be arranged to take control of the control room?"
"Twenty minutes, I estimate."
"I want it done in fifteen. Get yourself or one of your lackeys ready for a trip. Dress warm. Be sure to send extra reinforcements to the map-room, and ensure that these frigates do not get destroyed. Those are my orders." Idaho looked at Herbert. "Unless of course, you have something to add...?"
"None, Captain."
"Good. Now, let's get going!"
&&&&&&
Finally! Another chapter done! In under twelve hours! Please R&R, tell me what you think.