Chapter 10C

Mermaid's engines had long since been shut down and she drifted silently through space, her passive sensors keeping an eye on the frantic search that was being undertaken on their behalf. The crew had been at general quarters for nearly five hours now, all of them anxious, scared, but also proud that they had just helped take forty thousand marines out of commission.

Brett and the rest of the bridge crew watched their screens as the Panamas continued to pass far above them and as the anti-stealth frigates and the attack ships that came from the middle portion of the security screen circled back and forth and probed into space. They picked up many radar signals and infrared sweeps bathing their ship in energy but so far they had not been detected. And as the minutes ticked by the ships in pursuit of them moved further and further away, carried along by their own momentum.

"They're well outside of potential detection range now," Sugi said as he watched the circling of a pair of A-22s about 40,000 kilometers away. They had been as close as 12,000 kilometers at one point, close enough that any sort of heat dump or engine usage would have meant instant discovery.

"Good," Brett said, puffing nervously on a cigarette, "but they won't be the only ones. We still have the rear screen to worry about. They'll be out in force as well. And all it takes is for one to get a little sniff of us."

Sugi said nothing, didn't even nod. He simply went back to studying the display, remembering how he had once begged for something to appear on it. Now there were more symbols on it than he thought he could handle. And more would be gracing his view at any time.

"Have you found them yet?" General Wrath demanded of Jules. They were sitting in Jules' quarters, both sipping from cocktails as they sat in leather bound chairs before the huge picture window that looked out on the empty space before them.

"Not yet," Jules sighed. "The first group of search ships have passed beyond where the torpedo could have conceivably been fired from and the attack ships have run out of maneuvering fuel. They're being recovered right now."

"So we lost them then? Almost forty thousand of my men dead and you can't find the people responsible for it? That's unacceptable, Jules! I want that ship dead!"

"The anti-stealth ships from our part of the screen will be coming into range in about twenty minutes," he told him. "And the entire wing of A-22's will be launching in five to fan out ahead of us. We'll find them."

"Christ," Wrath said, shaking his head angrily. "How in the hell could something like this have happened? How in the hell could you let the greenies attack this armada with nuclear weapons? That's outrageous."

"There will be a full investigation, I can assure you of that," Jules said. "Those responsible for the lapse in security will be punished harshly." He was in fact already formulating just who would be blamed for the attacks. The on duty combat information center crew made handy scapegoats. They were, after all, the ones responsible for detecting enemy craft or weapons, weren't they?

"I want some heads to roll over this, Tanner," Wrath said. "And I want them to roll soon. Nothing like this has happened to the corps since the Jupiter War. And then we were at least fighting a real enemy!"

"They'll roll," he promised. "And we'll find that ship. You have my word."

Wrath sighed and took another sip from his scotch and soda. He looked out at the stars for a moment and then turned back to his colleague. "What did the executive committee have to say about this?" he asked.

"I just got their reply about ten minutes ago. We're still able to relay messages directly instead of sending them to Jupiter first. They were a bit upset by the news of course."

"I take it that that is an understatement?"

He gave a cynical smile. "Yes, perhaps the biggest of the trip so far. They were infuriated. They're very worried about what effect this is going to have on public opinion."

"Understandable. What did they have to say? Do we have orders for what to brief the media on? They've already started picking up the rumors."

"It was a collision," Jules said. "That's what the official story is going to be."

"A collision?" Wrath said in disgust. "You've got to be kidding me."

He shook his head. "One of our captains was trying to adjust his station in the formation. He let his engine burn a little too long and ran his ship into another Panama, therefore causing the rupture of the propellant tanks aboard Camel. The explosion completely destroyed Camel and caused severe damage to Mule."

"Holy Jesus," said Wrath. "And just how are we to explain why we had to treat the survivors of Mule for radiation sickness? Did that occur to them? Or how about what's going to happen when one of the surviving bridge crew starts blabbing his mouth? Or one of our own CIC crew that was tracking this thing. Do they really think that something like this can be kept under wraps?"

"They didn't explain things any further than what they ordered," Jules told him. "They left that up to us. We could say that the surviving crewmen were exposed to intense solar radiation before being rescued. After all, we are near the sun."

"Their suits have protection from that," Wrath pointed out. "That'll never fly."

"They'll make it fly," Jules insisted. "Remember what we're talking about here. They can control the media if they really want to, if they really need to. They did it during the Jupiter War. Remember, the big three are nothing more than huge corporations themselves. And whose behalf are we really fighting this fucking war on?"

Wrath looked at him levelly. Both men of course knew the real reason for the war, but neither had ever mentioned it, not even in private. "I suppose you're right," he said. "And I suppose we can let those men from the bridge know exactly what they're facing if they go around telling lies about how they were attacked by a nuclear weapon."

"Such things have been done before," Jules said. "Many times. We'll place the blame for the collision on the captain of the Camel, since all hands were lost there. We'll portray the bridge crew of the Mule as heroic in the attempts to avoid the collision and in their diligence for saving the surviving men. As for our CIC crew, I'll speak to each one of them personally and make sure they understand what the stakes are. They stick to the story, they'll move up the ladder. If they go telling lies about nuclear weapons, they'll be destroyed, both in their career and their reputation."

"Sounds good," Wrath said. "But in the meantime, you have to find that ship. And you have to make sure that there aren't any others out there."

"I can't possibly imagine that the greenies could have manned more than one ship," Jules said. "I'm frankly quite amazed that they were even able to do that."

"And I'm sure you're right about that, but we underestimated them once. Let's make sure we don't do it again."

Sugi and Brett were watching the display of enemy vessels carefully, both of them very tense. For the past forty minutes more than sixty A-22's had been circling around them. They were teamed up in pairs and performing careful grid searches as they moved through the area. As their colleagues had been before them, they were somewhat hampered by the fact that they were moving roughly seventy kilometers per second through the search area, but they had also been given much more time to perform their search and were able to be a little more thorough.

So far, none had come within 10,000 kilometers of Mermaid, although they had passed on both sides and though their active systems were slashing all over her. Brett was certain that they had not gotten so much as a sniff from him yet, but that was only because all heat emitting systems had been shut down.

"Brett," said Mandall from the helm, "our waste heat is becoming critical. We need to make a dump soon."

Brett nodded, stifling a yawn as he looked at the display. The excess heat should have been released into space more than twenty minutes ago, but to do so now was to risk giving the A-22s a source to lock in on. If those ships found their position, they would be on them in minutes, blasting them with heavy lasers.

"We'll have to hold a little longer," he said. "I don't want to risk it until those ships are at least 40,000 kilometers out. They're coming to the end of their search arc now it looks like."

"Okay," she said worriedly.

As if that wasn't bad enough news, Sugi soon had worse. "Brett," he said, "I've just plotted out a course for target 46. It's a Seattle class and it's heading pretty much right towards us. If both of us keep on current courses, they'll pass within 12,000 kilometers. All of her systems are active too."

"Are you sure on that plot?" Brett asked.

"I've run it three times now," Sugi answered. "It looks like the closure will occur in forty-three minutes."

"That's well inside detection range for one of those vessels," Brett said. "Well inside. Especially if we don't get rid of some of this heat before then."

Worried looks passed among the crew at these words. What were they to do? Just sit there and hope that the Seattle didn't see them? Try to fight it out and get destroyed by the A-22s? The fact that Brett, their commanding officer, the man who was supposed to know what to do in these situations, looked just as helpless as they felt, didn't make them feel much better.

"Brett?" Sugi said.

He took a few deep breaths, running the problem through his head. Until now he'd never really appreciated just what kind of pressure the captain of a ship was put under. What he decided now would make the difference between them living and dying.

"We can't just hope that it'll change course," Brett said, mostly thinking aloud but wanting his crew to hear his thoughts. "They seem to be on a search course. It's unlikely that they'll deviate from it."

"It would seem so," Sugi said.

"Helm, start calculating the minimum amount that we'd have to burn the engines in order to clear them by more than 20,000 kilometers."

"Right," she said, bending to her screen. She worked the numbers for more than three minutes before coming up with an answer. "We'll have to burn at point zero eight G on a course of 139 mark 180 in order to clear that range," she announced.

He shook his head. "That's too damn much," he said. "If we light up the engines that much they'll detect us for sure." He took a few deep breaths, looking around, trying to find some inspiration. Finally, the glimmer of an idea came. It would be risky, but he didn't really see any other option. "Helm, put us on an intercept course towards them. Get us aligned to firing range as quickly as possible using as little engine power as possible."

"An intercept course?" she said doubtfully.

"You heard me," he told her. "If we can't run away from them and we can't hide from them, we'll have to fight them." He pushed a button on his panel. "Torpedo room, get a weapon ready for launch."

Since the ship was already heading almost directly towards them, it didn't take much maneuvering to put them on a collision course. A short burst of the thrusters and a five minute burn at .02G did the trick. The A-22s, which were still circling about, were on the far end of their latest circle as the burn took place and therefore didn't see it.

"Timing is the key here," Brett said, watching as the Seattle grew closer and closer to them. "We have to wait until those 22s have moved far enough past us so that they won't be able to engage us when we start our separation burn. Because once we start that, the whole fleet is going to know we're out here."

"Will we be able to clear the area?" Sugi asked.

Brett gave a worried smile. "We'll have to hope so I guess, won't we?"

The minutes ticked by, the atmosphere on the bridge thick with tension. The A-22s, which were identifiable by the heat of their thrusters and the frequent burns of their main engines, continued to circle about, their distance getting further and further away with each arc that they made. Finally they went beyond 40,000 kilometers, still blind to the enemy ship they had just encircled. There was no way that they could circle back at the speed they were moving without burning up all of their maneuvering fuel.

"Okay," Brett said, "let's get it on here. Sugi, what's the distance to that Seattle?"

"86,000 kilometers and closing rapidly," he replied.

"Got it," Brett said. "Helm, go ahead and dump the waste heat now. We should be safe from detection."

"Dumping," she said, flipping the switch that controlled that.

"Torpedo room," Brett then said into the intercom, "launch tube one immediately. Set detonation for sixty kilometers and get a lock on that thing as quick as you can."

"Launching now," was the response.

Once more the torpedo tube irised open and the hydraulic arm pushed out a weapon into space. It drifted forward, moving slightly faster than the ship, and the laser system achieved a lock on it.

"Sugi," Brett said, "get ready to employ every piece of jamming equipment at your disposal. The moment we light those engines up they're going to see us. It won't be more than a few seconds after that before they try to engage us. Your job will be to make sure that they don't get a laser locked onto us before that torpedo gets on target."

"Right," Sugi said softly, his hands trembling a little as his fingers hovered over the panel.

Brett thought about saying a few last words to the crew, telling them that he had been proud to serve with them in case his plan didn't work out the way he wanted. Instead he kept his words to himself, figuring that it was bad luck to make such a speech.

"Helm," he said, "initiate breakaway maneuver. Turn to new course 180 mark 90."

Mandall swallowed audibly and then punched in the new course. The maneuvering thrusters fired, turning the ship in space. There was no sign that they had been detected from this.

"On course," Mandall told him when the thrusters were finished doing their work.

"Okay," Brett said. "Sounding acceleration alarm." He pushed the button and let the alarm go through its course. When it was finished he looked at Mandall once again. "Full power to the engines," he told her. "Point two-five G."

"Point two-five," she repeated, sliding the computerized dial all the way to the end.

The fusion engines lit a second later, expelling a stream of plasma out the back of the ship and pushing her away from the drifting torpedo. Everyone on board was pushed forcibly downward in his or her seats as gravity returned and the ship began to pick up momentum.

"Active fire control systems coming on line from the Seattle," Sugi reported.

"All jamming systems active, right now!" Brett ordered. "Don't let them get a lock on us or we're dead!"

"Coming on line," Sugi said, his voice breaking just a bit. Nevertheless, he did his job, instructing the powerful transmitters to send a haze of conflicting radar and infrared data out towards the Seattle.

"Torpedo room," Brett said into the intercom. "How's that torp looking?"

"We're still locked on it," was the report. "All systems on line."

"Copy that. Let's pray to God that thing closes and puts that ship out of action. Keep a close eye on it."

"I'm getting laser fire from the Seattle," Sugi reported, watching as the tell-tale flashes came from the target's weapons. "They're firing at us, all weapons. Unknown how close they're coming."

"You'll know when they get too close," Brett said. "Trust me, there will be no mistaking it."

The minutes passed with agonizing slowness. Mermaid picked up speed second by second, moving further and further away from the torpedo she had launched, although the Seattle continued to close on them. Every ten to fifteen seconds the four main lasers of the Seattle would fire one by one, trying desperately to make a hit on the fleeing Owl but unable to make the beam and the ship intersect because of the confusing jamming. Some of the beams passed within a half a kilometer of the ship. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before an impact occurred, either because the Seattle had burned through the jamming or because of blind luck.

"Torpedo range?" Brett asked Hamilton via the intercom.

"22,000 kilometers and closing," was the report. "Just over four and a half minutes to detonation."

"Sugi, any signs that they know the weapon is out there?"

"Nothing yet, Brett," he answered. "All of the fire control systems seemed to be focused on us."

More weapons flashed, sending more laser energy shooting through space. Mermaid's distance from the torpedo continued to grow as her momentum picked up. But the Seattle just kept getting closer and closer and the powerful active systems kept getting more intense. And on the bridge of the ship there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and see if the lasers would find them, wait and see if the Seattle would detect the torpedo and destroy it.

Brett turned on the intercom once again. "All laser teams, get ready to engage. If that torpedo doesn't work we're going to have to slug it out with them."

This thought did not do much to encourage anyone. The weapons lasers on the hull of the Mermaid were enough to take out a crippled ship or to maybe knock out an attack craft, but it would be next to impossible to destroy a huge anti-stealth destroyer with them. Nevertheless, the gun crews manned their terminals and began to sight in on the rapidly approaching target. The lasers themselves were charged up and readied for action.

"Ten thousand kilometers and closing," Hamilton reported. "Two minutes to detonation."

"It looks like they're picking up the torp," Sugi said suddenly. "Two of the fire control radars are shifting target."

"Jamming systems just went active on the torpedo," came Hamilton's voice a second later. "They've got it."

"Hopefully that'll detract their attention from us," Brett said. "Hammy, light up the engine on the torpedo. They know its there now, might as well push it a little faster."

"Lighting it up," he responded.

On the view screen they watched as the huge thermal plume of the torpedo's rocket engine made itself known. It began to close the range even faster. All over the Seattle itself, anti-missile lasers began to fire, sending more flashes of energy onto the display.

"Eight thousand kilometers and closing," Hamilton said. "Detonation in 94 seconds."

"Come on, baby," Brett mumbled, his hands clenched nervously. "Just slip in a little closer."

Suddenly there was a violent jolt, making the entire ship shudder. On the master panel alarms began to blare.

"We've been hit!" Mandall yelled. "We have a hull breach in engineering!"

"Shit," Brett said, flipping on the intercom. "Engineering, report immediately!"

There was no answer at first and Brett had to hail two more times. Finally the voice of Mike Bellingraph, sounding frantic and scared, came on. "We've got a hull rupture in engine room number two," he said. "The engine has been hit as well. Performing an emergency shutdown now. The doors are shut and some of my people are trapped in there!"

"I copy," Brett responded. "Get the engine shut down. Hopefully the crew was able to activate their suits. They'll be okay for now."

"Understood," he said.

"Is engine number one still online?"

"So far, but that blast came awfully close to the main propellant tanks. You'd better check them."

"Checking now," Brett said, looking at Mandall. "How we looking there, helm?"

"I'm showing no loss of pressure," she reported.

"Propellant tanks seem fine," Brett told him. "Get that engine shut down and see if we can salvage it. Report back as soon as you know something."

"Right," Bellingraph said. "I'm on it."