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Chapter Eleven
By the grace of whatever gods ruled this section of space, they had a brief
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
respite, and Sassinak intended to make the most of it. She had the grain of an
idea that might work to buy them still more time. Now, however, her crew
labored to dismantle the escort's docking bay hatch -
although not as large as their own, it could form part of the repair far more
quickly than Engineering could fabricate a complete replacement.
Another working party picked its way along the
Zaid-Dayan's outer hull, rigging detector wires and dishes to replace the
damaged portside detectors. Inside the cruiser, the marines hauled away the
battered remains of the enemy assault pods, and stacked the corpses near the
docking bay. That entire quadrant remained in vacuum.
Red lights began to wink off on consoles in the bridge. A spare targeting
computer came online to replace the one destroyed by a chance shot, a minor
leak in Environmental Systems was repaired without incident, and
Engineering even found that a single portside pod could deliver power - it
had merely lost its electrical connection when the others blew. One pod wasn't
enough to do much with, but everyone felt better nonetheless.
One hour into the safe period, Sassinak confirmed that the escort vessel had
been stripped of everything Engineering thought they might need, and was
empty, held to the cruiser by their tractor field.
"This is what I want to do," she explained to her senior officers.
"It'll stretch our maneuvering capability," said Hollister, frowning.
"Especially with that hole in the hull - "
"The moon's airless - there's not going to be any pressure problem," said
Sass. "What I want to know is, have we got the power to decelerate, and has
anyone seen a good place to go in?"
Bures, the senior Navigation Officer, shrugged. "If you wanted a rugged little
moon to hide on, this one's ideal. Getting away again without being spotted is
going to be a chore - it's open to surveillance from the ground and that other
moon - but as long as we don't move, and our stealth gear works?" Sassinak
glanced at Hollister.
"That's all right - and it's the first time I've been happy with it where it
is."
" - Then I can offer any patch of it," said Bures. " - the only thing regular
about it is how irregular it is. And yes, before you ask, our surface systems
are all functional."
The next half hour or so was frantic, as working parties moved the enemy
corpses and attack pods into the escort - along with escape modules from the
cruiser, a Fleet distress beacon and every bit of spare junk they had time to
shift. Not all would fit back in, and cursing crewmen lashed nets of the stuff
to the escort's hull. Deep in the escort's hull and among the wreckage in its
docking bay, they placed powerful explosive charges. Last, and most important,
the fuses, over whose timing and placement Arly fussed busily. Finally it was
all done, and the cruiser's tractor field turned off. The
Zaid-Dayan's insystem drive caught hold again, easing the cruiser away from
the other ship, now a floating bomb continuing on the trajectory both ships
had shared. The cruiser decelerated still more, pushing its margin of safety
to get to the moonlet's surface before any of the pursuit could come in sight.
It was only then that Sassinak remembered that Huron's navigational computer,
on the transport, was still slaved to the
Zaid-Dayan's
. She dared not contact him - had no way to warn him that the violent
explosion about to occur was not the mutual destruction of two warships.
The Fleet beacon would convince him - and he was not equipped to detect that
the
Zaid-Dayan's tiny IFF was not in the wreckage - only a
Fleet ship could enable that. She looked at the navigational display -
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there, still boosting safely away, was the transport. She tapped the Nav code,
and said, "Break Huron's link."
A startled face looked back at her. "Omigod. I forgot." Bures's thumb went
down on the console and the coded tag for Huron's ship went from
Fleet blue to black neutral.
"I know. So did I - and he's going to think the worst, unless it occurs to him
that the link went quite a while first."
On the main screen, the situation plot showed the cruiser's rapid descent to
the moon's surface. Navigation were all busy, muttering cryptic comments to
one another and the computer; Helm stared silently at the steering display,
with Engineering codes popping up along its edges:
yellow, orange, and occasionally red. Sassinak called up a visual, and
swallowed hard. She'd wanted broken ground, and that's exactly what she saw.
At least the radar data said it was solid, and the IR scan said it had no
internal heat sources.
They were down, squeezed tight as a tick between two jagged slabs on the floor
of a small crater, within eight seconds of Nav's first estimate.
Given the irregularity of the moon, this was remarkable, and Sassinak gave Nav
a grin and thumbs-up. Ten seconds later, the escort blew, a vast pulse of EM,
explosion of light, fountains of debris of every sort. And on the outward
track, the Fleet distress beacon, screaming for help in every wavelength the
designers could cram into it.
"That had me worried," Hollister admitted, grinning, as he watched it. "If
that damn thing had blown this way, they might have decided to come get it and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Chapter Eleven
By the grace of whatever gods ruled this section of space, they had a brief
Page 90
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
respite, and Sassinak intended to make the most of it. She had the grain of an
idea that might work to buy them still more time. Now, however, her crew
labored to dismantle the escort's docking bay hatch -
although not as large as their own, it could form part of the repair far more
quickly than Engineering could fabricate a complete replacement.
Another working party picked its way along the
Zaid-Dayan's outer hull, rigging detector wires and dishes to replace the
damaged portside detectors. Inside the cruiser, the marines hauled away the
battered remains of the enemy assault pods, and stacked the corpses near the
docking bay. That entire quadrant remained in vacuum.
Red lights began to wink off on consoles in the bridge. A spare targeting
computer came online to replace the one destroyed by a chance shot, a minor
leak in Environmental Systems was repaired without incident, and
Engineering even found that a single portside pod could deliver power - it
had merely lost its electrical connection when the others blew. One pod wasn't
enough to do much with, but everyone felt better nonetheless.
One hour into the safe period, Sassinak confirmed that the escort vessel had
been stripped of everything Engineering thought they might need, and was
empty, held to the cruiser by their tractor field.
"This is what I want to do," she explained to her senior officers.
"It'll stretch our maneuvering capability," said Hollister, frowning.
"Especially with that hole in the hull - "
"The moon's airless - there's not going to be any pressure problem," said
Sass. "What I want to know is, have we got the power to decelerate, and has
anyone seen a good place to go in?"
Bures, the senior Navigation Officer, shrugged. "If you wanted a rugged little
moon to hide on, this one's ideal. Getting away again without being spotted is
going to be a chore - it's open to surveillance from the ground and that other
moon - but as long as we don't move, and our stealth gear works?" Sassinak
glanced at Hollister.
"That's all right - and it's the first time I've been happy with it where it
is."
" - Then I can offer any patch of it," said Bures. " - the only thing regular
about it is how irregular it is. And yes, before you ask, our surface systems
are all functional."
The next half hour or so was frantic, as working parties moved the enemy
corpses and attack pods into the escort - along with escape modules from the
cruiser, a Fleet distress beacon and every bit of spare junk they had time to
shift. Not all would fit back in, and cursing crewmen lashed nets of the stuff
to the escort's hull. Deep in the escort's hull and among the wreckage in its
docking bay, they placed powerful explosive charges. Last, and most important,
the fuses, over whose timing and placement Arly fussed busily. Finally it was
all done, and the cruiser's tractor field turned off. The
Zaid-Dayan's insystem drive caught hold again, easing the cruiser away from
the other ship, now a floating bomb continuing on the trajectory both ships
had shared. The cruiser decelerated still more, pushing its margin of safety
to get to the moonlet's surface before any of the pursuit could come in sight.
It was only then that Sassinak remembered that Huron's navigational computer,
on the transport, was still slaved to the
Zaid-Dayan's
. She dared not contact him - had no way to warn him that the violent
explosion about to occur was not the mutual destruction of two warships.
The Fleet beacon would convince him - and he was not equipped to detect that
the
Zaid-Dayan's tiny IFF was not in the wreckage - only a
Fleet ship could enable that. She looked at the navigational display -
Page 91
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
there, still boosting safely away, was the transport. She tapped the Nav code,
and said, "Break Huron's link."
A startled face looked back at her. "Omigod. I forgot." Bures's thumb went
down on the console and the coded tag for Huron's ship went from
Fleet blue to black neutral.
"I know. So did I - and he's going to think the worst, unless it occurs to him
that the link went quite a while first."
On the main screen, the situation plot showed the cruiser's rapid descent to
the moon's surface. Navigation were all busy, muttering cryptic comments to
one another and the computer; Helm stared silently at the steering display,
with Engineering codes popping up along its edges:
yellow, orange, and occasionally red. Sassinak called up a visual, and
swallowed hard. She'd wanted broken ground, and that's exactly what she saw.
At least the radar data said it was solid, and the IR scan said it had no
internal heat sources.
They were down, squeezed tight as a tick between two jagged slabs on the floor
of a small crater, within eight seconds of Nav's first estimate.
Given the irregularity of the moon, this was remarkable, and Sassinak gave Nav
a grin and thumbs-up. Ten seconds later, the escort blew, a vast pulse of EM,
explosion of light, fountains of debris of every sort. And on the outward
track, the Fleet distress beacon, screaming for help in every wavelength the
designers could cram into it.
"That had me worried," Hollister admitted, grinning, as he watched it. "If
that damn thing had blown this way, they might have decided to come get it and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]