Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy Page 45

  The wing ruptured containment along the barrel, leaving behind geysers of escaping plasma, and halting the beam with a sputter. The falcon struggled to stay on course as the nose of the First Cruiser exploded in sections behind it. One explosion sent the falcon spinning into the connections between the central fuselage and the starboard hull, severing them. The hull, already damaged, began to explode as automatic procedures ejected it.

  The Hesperus swerved underneath the massive ship, gaining enough control by the aft end to bring its cutting edge up through the thruster assemblies. The resulting explosion engulfed the one-winged bird. It emerged from the conflagration heading straight up out of the Reuleaux triangle formation. It maintained erratic flight, likely easy in that state, and stayed lined up between P-Star ships to minimize their fire.

  Incoming intercept gun hits were lost in the falcon phenomenon. When P-Star ships could fire their main weaponry without endangering their fellows, it was sporadic. A hypergun rock passed through where the Aurora's port nacelle once was. T-Beams raked the starboard side, some penetrating and some deflected by the shearing. The falcon finally began to diminish, but not before gouging an unlucky P-Star destroyer on the way out, leaving an explosion on its surface which obscured further targeting.

  The falcon faded. The Hesperus Aurora left a trail of glowing debris and plasma. It was more damaged than it had been in two centuries.

  “But he's alive,” Vittora said.

  Kord relaxed shoulders tense as rock. The First Cruiser erupted in smaller explosions from the ends in. Somehow its pocked central fuselage held together. He pulled himself from that scene of destruction to another. Unblocked portions of the Artemis beam had struck the Jetty. At first it caused a great expanding surface explosion, then it bored into the core of the asteroid base. All at once it cracked violently from top to bottom.

  An energetic sphere of plasma and spatial distortion radiated outward from the center. It shattered the jetty's halves into mighty chunks, each spewing explosions.

  “Father...” The scans were a mess amid the havoc. “Did the galleons launch?”

  “I can't get a good read,” the Verdant's data rider said. “Scanning the debris.” The smaller remains of the Jetty scattered, some heading into Aventicia's atmosphere, hopefully to burn up. The larger chunks yawed and rolled together in slow motion. “Found one.” A square contracted on the viewport over a galleon's dark hull. “The Solothurn. Dead in space, but intact.”

  The Trade Union flotilla, too close to the Jetty, was buffeted by the expanding sphere and debris. Their shields flared under the onslaught as smaller ships were blasted off course. The Drexalis and the mystic cruiser angled into the wave, but still took shield damage.

  “The Trade Union is pulling back,” the tac officer said.

  “Picking up Aventicia Defense tags,” the data rider said. “Three, no four more. Two heavily damaged; all functioning.”

  “Are any of those galleons hosting the Iron Commander's fleetnet?” Kord couldn't believe he was even asking that question, but what else could it be but one of his father's eccentric brainstorms.

  “Negative.”

  Squares continued to highlight false alarms until one required extra scrutiny. The view zoomed in to show a ship-sized hunk of asteroid connected to a galleon by a launch gantry. The beat-up galleon came to life before their eyes, still dragging its own piece of Jetty.

  “This is the Iron Commander, assuming command of the AvSec fleet. All ships rendezvous at these coordinates. Cascading wall formation. Form up on the galleons.”

  Kord smiled.

  The Iron Commander.

  Conscripted into his father's endless war, even from beyond the grave.

  “Anything from my father?” Vittora shook her head. “Even his coded sub-channel?”

  “No...” Vittora said.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Durn Stobahn pushed back in the luxurious seat of the Shade Momentum shuttle. What a respite it was from the chaos of the Jetty.

  “Why did they wait so long to release us?”

  “Fighters were in the area,” the pilot bot said from the cockpit. His voice was slightly tinny, probably to assure VIPs that their communication was with a Shade Momentum bot programmed for discretion.

  Durn brought up a nav VAD and checked the area. It was skill honed in his years at Orbital. A quick examination and he was up to speed. The Jetty gushed every possible escape vehicle. Even the long grounded galleons were launching into crowded space.

  “Best acceleration out of this war zone.” He noticed the Trade Union was turning away with formation breaking fervency. He swiped the VAD over to the Perigeum squadron. They were barreling closer and the First Cruiser was... firing? “What the drakkin' hell?”

  A flash filled space, pouring through the crystal panes. The cabin lights lit in emergency colors, and the passive restraints snugged him to the seat.

  “Please remain calm,” the pilot bot said.

  The mighty beam passed by. Durn turned with horror to the VAD as the Jetty was rent asunder and shattered. His mouth dropped open. Then he saw the expanding sphere of destruction. It smashed ships, escape vehicles...

  “Calm? Are you glitched? Go faster! Faster!”

  The wave caught up. With eyes closed the seat slammed up into him. A wrenching clamor filled the cabin. He would have been thrown into the ceiling if not for the passive restraints. He blinked, clearing confusion, thankful Shade Momentum burned some of their prodigious fees on ship toughness. These appointments were supposed to be prestige building free rides, not military operations.

  The VAD filled with red distress outlines. Three beginning reentry into Aventicia's atmosphere highlighted. Another VAD appeared with bold words, “HUMAN LIFE PROTOCOL.”

  “Targets within our ability to act selected,” the pilot bot said.

  “Act? You're a civilian shuttle service!”

  “Shade Momentum is a bonded courier for government and military use.” The protocol VAD scrolled with pages of fine print. The stars streaked from a fast turn, then the shuttle raced off at speeds for which the line was famous. “We must attempt rescue once Human Life Protocol has been enacted.”

  Shuttles and shuttle pods mostly survived the blast, but escape pods were simple, and the Jetty's were old. Most were being rescued, but the highlighted ones were out of anyone's range in the short time remaining before uncontrolled reentry destroyed them.

  “They're already too far gone. I'm sorry for them but it's beyond our reach.” The shuttles speed increased. “Are you listening, bot?”

  “Prepare for turbulence beyond grav weave tolerances.”

  Durn stormed forward, opening the service chamber hatch. Three bots moved past him to the side entry. He continued into the cockpit.

  “What are you doing, machine?”

  “Following my programming. Thank you for coming up. I cannot guarantee passenger cabin atmosphere during this high-risk transfer.” Durn sat and was locked into the copilot seat. “Please make yourself comfortable. It's for your own safety.”

  Durn knew far too much about orbital practices to feel comfortable with their perilous entry vector.

  “Are your piloting algorithms glitched?”

  “This unconventional approach is necessary for the rendezvous.”

  The bot's tinny voice was getting on Durn's frazzling nerves.

  “You can't link in uncontrolled atmospheric flight.”

  “We're under control,” the bot answered.

  “They're not!” The effects of their reentry started showing up in system warnings. “And this doesn't seem controlled.”

  “We're well within emergency operational parameters.”

  Durn gripped the arms of the seat. “How long have you been flying?”

  “I'm newly commissioned, but have thousands of man-hours of accumulated experience from our datalattice.”

  “Is anything like this in the datalattice?”

  The bot turned to hi
m. “Only a single theoretical example, but I'm finding it most helpful.” Durn went to open his mouth, but the bot continued. “Approaching first pod.” The stars were fading in the growing light of atmosphere. A dot appeared in the distance. “It's simple AI is responding. Partially blowing service hatches.”

  The pod grew larger, its tumble slowed by the protruding hatch covers. They pulled alongside it. The maneuver made Durn queasy. The cabin monitor showed the three bots, all gleaming black with their iconic red stripe, activating a smaller round hatch from within the regular one. Standardized emergency access. Green lights around the circle lit.

  “We've linked.” Durn was surprised.

  The bots pulled two people through the round opening, escorting them into the service chamber. A man and woman wearing AvSec uniforms.

  “Releasing pod,” the bot said. “It may burn up.”

  “We may burn up you—” The shuttle turned hard against thickening air. Bumps started making it through the grav weaves. “You can't link anymore with this turbulence.”

  “I'm sorry sir, you are listed only as a passenger, not a VIP. Human Life Protocol continuing. But rest assured, we are still within emergency operational parameters.”

  Another dot appeared in the distance. Embers of debris flew up to meet them. System temperatures were rising across the board.

  “How much of this shuttle is longchain?” Durn asked.

  “Most everything. We're Shade Momentum, after all. We'll hit the ground before we burn up.”

  “That's not reassuring you idiot!”

  They caught up to the damaged pod.

  “Deploying stabilizing fins.” Their flight smoothed a little, but the pod flew out of their reach again. “Increasing thrust to compensate.”

  At least this pod wasn't tumbling. They established a connection, but the wind eddies were making flight difficult. The linked shuttle and pod began to yaw, and the thrust rings were having difficulty keeping them straight.

  “Hurry with the transfer,” Durn ordered, “before we start spinning.”

  Two more people were escorted into the service chamber, but the pod tore free before completely detached. Air escaped from the cabin in a roar just as the people were secured. The third bot struggled to seal the hatch.

  “See why I wanted you up here?” the pilot bot said. Durn was surprised Shade Momentum programmers incorporated such dry wit. “Cabin will not re-pressurize. But our altitude will be low enough at the final pod. Initiating course adjustment.”

  “Low enough?” The bumps became violent. “What's wrong with you?”

  Ahead the last pod came into view. It was burning and tumbling, with glowing pieces breaking off.

  “Pod AI not responding,” the bot said.

  “Neither is yours. There's nothing more we can do. It's out of control.”

  They pulled as close as the bot dared. “Deploying docking arm.”

  The shuttle started rolling with the introduction of such a non-aerodynamic piece.

  “This is ludicrous! Don't tell me it's still within your emergency operational parameters.”

  “No, they've been exceeded, but the maneuver has already been started.” The bot looked at him again. “This is considered a bit of a gray zone.”

  “A gray zone?” Durn began to choke the bot around its spindly metal neck. “You will pull up now!”

  “Calm yourself sir. I can offer you anti-anxiety pharma free of charge.”

  “I don't want your pharma you moronic flux-jerk! I'll install your AI into a laver swirl!”

  “Please, sir. This is a delicate maneuver.” The bot changed the orientation of the arm, stopping their roll. The first grapple attempt resulted in the pod clanking against the shuttle's hull. The second try succeeded, but the pod was pulled just short of link distance. “Hmm.”

  Durn released his choke. “'Hmm'? Hmm what?”

  “The arm has ceased functioning. Apparently it's not longchain material after all. How did our designers overlook that?” The shuttle's schematic became dangerously red, and warnings were everywhere. “However, there's still a chance, and human life is the highest priority.”

  “We all might die you radiated bit-brain.”

  “Opening emergency hatch.”

  “We're not sealed!”

  The cabin VAD showed two bots anchoring themselves and reaching out, pulling the pod against the non-functioning seal. They activated emergency hatch blow on the pod, which knocked the third bot across the cabin. Air whistled loud enough to drown all other sound.

  The felled bot pulled a gasping woman and a small boy from the pod. It had them half way to the service chamber when the pod broke free. One of the bots still clasped it as they both tumbled away. The remaining two toiled to get the survivors to safety, but the shuttle began a flat spin, adding new G forces, and washing out the failing grav weaves.

  “I hate you,” Durn said.

  The schematic was all red as warnings blared.

  “Blowing cargo hatch,” the pilot bot said.

  The piece flew away from the spinning shuttle, and the opening caught air, but didn't stop the spin.

  “It's not enough,” Durn yelled.

  “Deploying landing gear.” The noise increased and the spinning slowed, but they were still unable to regain controlled flight. “Stabilizing fins malfunctioning. Ejecting.”

  A new warning, the biggest yet, appeared. Altitude. Their time was just about up.

  “I'm going to kill you. I'm famous. I have a life to live!”

  They burst through the cloud layer. The ground raced up to meet them.

  “Air density increasing.” The spin slowed and the bot pulled them up, finally leveling off into controlled flight. The ride became eerily smooth and quiet. The rescued people were released into the cabin, and the bots secured the damaged hatch. “Emergency protocols disengaged.”

  Durn's passive restraints released. “You— you—” He stormed out of the cockpit.

  The eyes of the rescued passengers lit when they saw him. They slapped his shoulders wildly. The woman hugged him with abandon.

  “You saved us,” she said.

  “That's the best piloting I've ever seen.”

  “I can't believe we're alive.”

  Durn's anger evaporated in an instant. He relaxed, raising his chin, accepting forearm bumps and all manner of appreciation. The little boy jumped up into his arms.

  “What a rescue,” one serviceman said.

  Durn smiled, showing off his recent dental work. “That's what I do.”

  “Sir,” the pilots tinny voice interrupted his moment of glory, “how are you going to pay for this shuttle?”

  “Pay?

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  ACETIC SENTINEL

  The Premiere News Service Dedicated to Adams Rush

  HERO OF ADAMS RUSH

  SAVES HALF-DOZEN IN DARING FLIGHT

  Aventicia, Banking Confederation territory, 337/2615

  At the time of this writing, much is still unclear regarding the disastrous series of events that unfolded at Aventicia. Our own Confidence Fleet apparently came under fire from the Svalbergen Blacksea Corporation and the Perigeum Starmada squadron lead by the Prime Orator himself. Heavy losses occurred to all sides, and details are still emerging as to survivors, and political outcome.

  But amid the chaos, a bright star of good news still shines. Its name, Darren Starr. Many of you are familiar with the man dubbed, “The Hero of Adams Rush.” He was instrumental in formulating our successful battle strategy during the Egress Incident. More recently he defended our observers from thuggery during the Incursion at Windermere. Now a midair rescue can be added to his list of heroics.

  When three damaged escape pods, doomed to crash or burn up in Aventicia's atmosphere, were beyond rescue, Starr seized the moment at the controls of a leased Shade Momentum shuttle. The dangerous reentry linking was performed at great risk, and the shuttle took significant damage. In the end six lives, includ
ing that of a young child, were saved. When queried how he manages to keep being at the right place at the right time to help those in need, Starr responded, “It's what I do.”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “We are in the wrong place,” Rewe said. “Get us out of here.” The First Cruiser was dying an extended death as explosions ripped its central fuselage. The entire squadron was upended. “That radiated Sojourner ship could have cut through us even more easily.”

  “I believe it's done for the day, Commodore,” Auscultare said. “One of our Archiver Aegis destroyers is heavily damaged. Shouldn't we render assistance?”

  “Who's her captain?”

  “Wisulon.”

  “Why does that sound familiar?”

  “He commanded one of our hybrid frigates at Adams Rush.”

  Rewe's lip curled. “One of those weasels who ratted me out, you mean.”

  “Colorfully put, but yes.”

  “Let him burn. Now back us away from the First Cruiser. When we're clear, best speed to hilltop.”

  “A well-played exit Rewe,” Waxad said. “What I've come to expect.”

  “I'm in no mood for your sarcasm, AI.”

  “On the contrary, I think it's best we move on.”

  Rewe shook his head, bemused. “What's with you? You've been weird for a while now.”

  “My brother is in-system. He alone has power approximate to my own. He's foolish and idealistic.”

  “And he almost killed you at Drekka where I found you marooned in space.”

  For once the smart-aleck AI was silent. Rewe liked it. It wouldn't last, but he enjoyed it all the same.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Janus's eyes were open, but his mind was not engaged. Then it all came into focus. The plasma ruptures, the upheaval and explosions. The entire ship's bridge washed in flame, and the flag bridge shockwaved into silence.

  His anger spiked. That damned Hesperus had struck his designs a mortal blow again. The disbelief of it pushed his anger aside. So many ships had tangled, and no doubt so many were still capable of fighting. But the wind had emptied from the sails of his plan. The First Cruiser, his castle in the sky, was finished.