there.” Something very cold went through Rhodes’
eyes.
Out there was a cloud of interstellar dust, thin as a wisp
and barely visible to the naked eye, although it showed up well
enough on instruments of military sensitivity. The convoy had
steered around it, as some of the ships were not well-shielded for
micro-impact.
The captain gave Rick Allen a long
look.
“ Mr. Allen. Are your
people ready?”
“ Sir?”
“ Let’s see if we can find
that enemy ship.”
“ Yes, sir!”
***
Rick Allen’s plan was
ludicrously simple. As was known or suspected from previous
attacks, including the surprise attacks on Kepler, the Confederation had
discovered a method of cloaking their ships to avoid
electromagnetic detection. Visual detection, due to the required
shielding from radiation, was almost a forgotten science and
military ships had little provision for it—civilian ships had
virtually none, being almost purely robotic and fly-by-the-numbers.
The crews were minimal but necessary, mostly for the beginning and
end of their flights.
Non-essential personnel,
anyone who was not immediately detailed for battle stations, a
small portion of the ship’s contingent, were stationed in all
available cupolas and view-ports. There were few enough of those on
the ship. It was just as easy to take a look out at an antenna for
example, rather than suit someone up and go see if it was still there in the
case of a minor electronic malfunction. The time could be better
spent analyzing systems. Skills and people were always in short
supply on a deep-space military vessel.
The Fleet had grown so
fast since the split, as it was called, that most of the Nike’s people were on a deep cruise
for their very first time.
Allen stood beside Lane, a crewmember
fresh out of the Academy. They were at the observation dome above
the crew’s mess on Deck Five.
She had been issued with a heavy pair
of good, old-fashioned binoculars.
“ What are we looking for,
sir?”
He shook his head, chewing his
thoughts.
“ Anything, really.” A pair
of binoculars hung round his neck.
The unaccustomed weight and feel drove
some of the adrenalin-laced excitement he felt.
“ Those bastards are still
out there.”
“ You’re absolutely right,
Lane.”
She swept the star field, took the
glasses away, blinked, and then looked again.
His personal device buzzed in his
ears.
“ Commander Allen.” It was
Davies, down on Deck Nine, where the ship’s boats were stored and
launched.
“ Yes?”
“ I’m not a hundred percent
sure, sir. But I think I’ve got something.”
“ I’ll be right down!” He
clapped Lane on the shoulder. “Keep looking. This is probably
nothing—and there may be more than one of them out
there.”
***
“ Well, I’ll be damned.” He
keyed for the Captain. “Sir.”
“ Report!”
“ There’s something out
there. Port, stern. Pitch, nine or ten. Yaw, left fifteen or so.
Can we put all active systems on that, please, and check all
passive screens…”
“ Do it!”
Allen keyed back to his ‘private’
channel.
“ Special Duty
Squad.”
The acknowledgements came
swiftly.
“ We’ve spotted something
here.” He ordered those who might be in a position to see it to
have a look for it. “The rest of you, keep looking. We have no
guarantee this is it. We have no way of knowing how many are out
there…”
He clicked off and went back to the
Captain.
“ Sorry, sir.”
“ There’s nothing out
there. We can’t see it.” Captain Rhodes’ eyes bored into his from
the small screen. “What exactly are you seeing?”
Distinctly unhappy with
their present vulnerability and still shocked by the suddenness
of Draco’s destruction, now just a ball of warm haze in the rear
screens, his patience was minimal.
“ I’m taking a look now,
sir.”
Shoving the device into his pocket, he
lifted the big glasses and had a look.
“ What a devious
device…”
“ Talk to me,
Commander.”
“
eyes.
Out there was a cloud of interstellar dust, thin as a wisp
and barely visible to the naked eye, although it showed up well
enough on instruments of military sensitivity. The convoy had
steered around it, as some of the ships were not well-shielded for
micro-impact.
The captain gave Rick Allen a long
look.
“ Mr. Allen. Are your
people ready?”
“ Sir?”
“ Let’s see if we can find
that enemy ship.”
“ Yes, sir!”
***
Rick Allen’s plan was
ludicrously simple. As was known or suspected from previous
attacks, including the surprise attacks on Kepler, the Confederation had
discovered a method of cloaking their ships to avoid
electromagnetic detection. Visual detection, due to the required
shielding from radiation, was almost a forgotten science and
military ships had little provision for it—civilian ships had
virtually none, being almost purely robotic and fly-by-the-numbers.
The crews were minimal but necessary, mostly for the beginning and
end of their flights.
Non-essential personnel,
anyone who was not immediately detailed for battle stations, a
small portion of the ship’s contingent, were stationed in all
available cupolas and view-ports. There were few enough of those on
the ship. It was just as easy to take a look out at an antenna for
example, rather than suit someone up and go see if it was still there in the
case of a minor electronic malfunction. The time could be better
spent analyzing systems. Skills and people were always in short
supply on a deep-space military vessel.
The Fleet had grown so
fast since the split, as it was called, that most of the Nike’s people were on a deep cruise
for their very first time.
Allen stood beside Lane, a crewmember
fresh out of the Academy. They were at the observation dome above
the crew’s mess on Deck Five.
She had been issued with a heavy pair
of good, old-fashioned binoculars.
“ What are we looking for,
sir?”
He shook his head, chewing his
thoughts.
“ Anything, really.” A pair
of binoculars hung round his neck.
The unaccustomed weight and feel drove
some of the adrenalin-laced excitement he felt.
“ Those bastards are still
out there.”
“ You’re absolutely right,
Lane.”
She swept the star field, took the
glasses away, blinked, and then looked again.
His personal device buzzed in his
ears.
“ Commander Allen.” It was
Davies, down on Deck Nine, where the ship’s boats were stored and
launched.
“ Yes?”
“ I’m not a hundred percent
sure, sir. But I think I’ve got something.”
“ I’ll be right down!” He
clapped Lane on the shoulder. “Keep looking. This is probably
nothing—and there may be more than one of them out
there.”
***
“ Well, I’ll be damned.” He
keyed for the Captain. “Sir.”
“ Report!”
“ There’s something out
there. Port, stern. Pitch, nine or ten. Yaw, left fifteen or so.
Can we put all active systems on that, please, and check all
passive screens…”
“ Do it!”
Allen keyed back to his ‘private’
channel.
“ Special Duty
Squad.”
The acknowledgements came
swiftly.
“ We’ve spotted something
here.” He ordered those who might be in a position to see it to
have a look for it. “The rest of you, keep looking. We have no
guarantee this is it. We have no way of knowing how many are out
there…”
He clicked off and went back to the
Captain.
“ Sorry, sir.”
“ There’s nothing out
there. We can’t see it.” Captain Rhodes’ eyes bored into his from
the small screen. “What exactly are you seeing?”
Distinctly unhappy with
their present vulnerability and still shocked by the suddenness
of Draco’s destruction, now just a ball of warm haze in the rear
screens, his patience was minimal.
“ I’m taking a look now,
sir.”
Shoving the device into his pocket, he
lifted the big glasses and had a look.
“ What a devious
device…”
“ Talk to me,
Commander.”
“
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