Chapter 9C

Mermaid had no one in the official position of executive officer. There simply were not enough officers to go around for that designation. The closest that they had was Lieutenant Sugiyoto, the navigation and tracking officer, who filled the role if it was needed by virtue of being second in command.

"Green light on all exterior doors, Brett," he said now, checking a panel on his display.

"Thanks, Sugi," Brett said absently, looking at his own display board. He was now sitting in the captain's chair on the bridge, his restraints applied. He was careful not to let his voice show any of the anxiety that he felt. He was really about to try to take this ship out of dock with an understaffed, inexperienced crew. They were really going to try to fly towards the sun and attacked heavily armed WestHem vessels. Were they all mad?

He took a few deep breaths and then opened the ship's intercom system. "All personnel, this is Ingram on the bridge. All stations report your readiness for zero gravity conditions."

One by one the stations checked in. Engineering, navigation, weapons. All loose objects had reportedly been stowed and all of the men were sitting strapped into their chairs. The majority of them, at Brett's advice, had vomit bags with them since they would be undergoing the sensation of lightening for the first time.

"Let's do it then," Brett told the intercom. "Disconnecting from TNB's gravity generation system in five, four, three, two... one." He pushed a button on his panel, shutting off the flow of current to the conduits in the ship's hull. In an instant everyone became weightless. Brett himself easily absorbed the sensation. He had been through it hundreds of times before. Others weren't so lucky. From all over the ship came the sound of people moaning and retching. On the bridge itself three of the six people deployed had to vomit.

"Let's all take a few minutes to get used to the sensation," Brett said over the intercom, suppressing a sigh. "It'll go away shortly but then you'll have to get used to the zero gravity conditions. That one takes a little longer."

Little by little the ship seemed to settle down. Vomit bags were sealed and stowed. Foreheads were wiped clear of perspiration. Brett asked for another status check and received readiness reports from all stations once again.

"Okay, let's get this thing out of here then, shall we?" he said to the bridge crew. He turned to the young woman who had been chosen as the helmsperson. She was twenty-two years old and a previous ghetto inhabitant. She had scored remarkably high on her ASVAB, particularly the computer interface portion. "Mandall," he told her. "I'm releasing the docking clamps."

"Okay," she said nervously, her fingers hovering above her panel.

With a push of a button on his own screen, Brett released the magnetic clamps that held them to the dock. There was no sound or motion associated with it, only a red light that appeared on the panel. "We're free of the dock," he said. "Mandall, give us ten percent on the starboard thrusters and move us away."

"Ten percent on the starboard thrusters," she repeated, as she had been taught. She touched the screen in front of her.

On the outside of the ship the four maneuvering thrusters on that side of the ship flared to life, slowly pushing the Mermaid away from the dock. The gap between the two structures stretched out to one meter and then two and then five and then ten.

"Increase starboard thrusters to fifty percent," Brett ordered when they were sixty meters away. "Let's move out in the departure corridor."

"Increasing starboard thrusters to fifty percent," Mandall repeated, doing as she was told.

"Sir, they are definitely moving away from the dock," reported Pebley. "The aspect of the vessel is changing and I have what appears to be thruster activity on the side facing the docks."

"Christ," Warren said disgustedly as he watched the display screen. "They're going to crash that thing into the naval base."

"You suppose they're just playing around with it?" asked Lovington. "Trying to see if they can move it from one place to another? After all, they might have some greenie that used to serve on the helm doing it for them."

"Maybe," Warren said, liking the way that sounded. "Although I still can't imagine what good they think that'll do them. They can't break orbit without burning the fusion engine and I know goddamn well they don't have anyone who would know how to do that."

"Should we make a report to CINCFARSP?"

Warren thought that one over for a moment. They had just sent one of their thrice-daily reports to Jupiter via an encrypted communication laser. The next one wasn't due for another six hours. "Let's just wait until the next report goes out," he finally answered. "There's no sense in sending off a special report because they're playing games with one of our ships. We'll just keep our eye on them."

"Understood," Lovington replied.

"Sir?" said the navigation officer.

"What is it?"

"If we're going to keep tracking this target we're going to have to maneuver soon. Our orbit will take us out of range of Triad in another twenty minutes."

"Very well," Warren said. "Plot us a burn that will keep us in the vicinity. Remember, minimum G. There might be a Henry out here somewhere and we don't want to give away our position to them. There's a good chance that they're feeding information to the greenies."

"Yes sir," he said, bending to his computer screen. It took him less than a minute to give the computer the parameters he needed and get an answer from it. "Burn info is on your screen, captain," he said when it was done.

A minute later the order was given and Marlin's fusion engines began to burn, pushing the ship closer to its target at .15Gs.

Mermaid was now three kilometers out from TNB and nearly two downrange, far enough away that her fusion engines would not cause damage to any structure. Her nose was now facing nearly ninety degrees away from the planet. The navigation computer had taken over thruster activity to stabilize them in this particular inclination.

"We are in alignment for our burn," reported Sugiyoto, who had lit a cigarette and was puffing on it nervously.

"All right then," said Brett, who was puffing a smoke of his own. He touched his screen, linking his communications with the engineering spaces. "Mike," he said to Bellingraph, "we're aligned for our burn. Is everything ready to go back there?"

"The engines are turning and ready," Mike reported. "They'll burn at your command."

"Thanks, Mike," he said, shutting off the link and then turning on the ship's intercom. "All personnel, this is Ingram. Prepare to break orbit. I repeat, we will begin our burn in twenty seconds." He shut off the intercom and then looked at Sugiyoto once more. "Sugi, sound the acceleration alarm."

"Right," he replied. "Acceleration alarm sounded."

When it had sounded for twenty seconds it automatically shut off. Brett looked at Mandall. "Helm, commence burn. Point two G."

"Point two G," she repeated. Her finger trembled as it reached down to the control and pushed the button.

Everyone on board was holding their breath. Half expected nothing to happen. The other half expected the ship to explode in a fury of ignited hydrogen fuel. All of then were wrong. The fusion engines lit just like they were supposed to, expelling a stream of uncooled, white-hot plasma from the rear. The ship was pushed forward at two tenths the force of gravity, pushing everyone down in his or her seats. A collective sigh of relief was breathed as they felt the motion.

"How we looking, Sugi?" Brett asked, unsnapping his seat belt now that there was acceleration produced gravity in the ship.

"Right on the line," he reported after taking an extra long drag of his cigarette. "We'll have enough velocity to break orbit in forty-five minutes."

"Thanks, Sugi." He flipped to the engineering link again. "Mike? How are we looking back there?"

"Both engines are operating within parameters," he replied at once. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Brett laughed. "Of course not, Mike. Keep up the good work."

"Holy shit!" blurted Pebley as he saw the flare of white from his tracking computer.

"What the hell did you just say?" asked Warren, who was a notorious stickler for military courtesy.

"Sorry sir," Pebley apologized. "It's just that the greenies just lit off the fusion engines on that thing!"

"They did what?" Warren and Lovington said at the same time.

"No mistaking, sir," Pebley told them. "They've initiated what looks to be a fusion burn. They're accelerating at a rate of one point nine-six meters per second. That's point two G. They're trying to break orbit."

Lovington broke free of his chair and floated back over to Pebley to look over his shoulder once again. Warren called up the display on his own screen. Both stared intently, seeing the white flare before their eyes but still not believing it.

"Son of a bitch," Warren said quietly. "They got the fusion engines lit. They must have a crew aboard that they're forcing to work for them."

"No question," Lovington agreed. "But where the hell are they going with that thing? What could they possibly hope to do? It doesn't make sense."

"Sir," Pebley spoke up, "I have a positive identification on the vessel from the engine signature. It's the Mermaid."

"Stan Hoffman's ship," Warren said reflectively. "And I think Jack Braxton is his XO. The greenies must have one or both of them on that bridge. Helm, maneuver to keep tracking them. I want to figure out just what their post-orbital course is going to be and I don't want to lose them if they throttle down those engines."

"Plotting tracking course," the helmsman said, bending to his computer.

"That's going to put our own engines fairly high in the infrared," Lovington pointed out. "If there's a Henry out there they might catch a whiff of us."

"A chance we'll have to take," Warren responded. "It just occurred to me what those greenies might be up to with that thing."

"What's that?"

"What if they're delivering it to the EastHem military? Selling it to them in exchange for that fuel that they're planning to use? Those fucking fascists would love to get their hands on one of our Owls. They haven't had a chance to examine one since that traitorous greenie handed a C model to them during the Jupiter War."

"Damn," Lovington whispered fearfully, frightened by the very thought of the EastHem's learning the various secrets of the modern Owl. "I think you might be right. And they might hand the crew over to the EastHem's as well."

"We need to stay on their ass," Warren said. "If the EastHem's take possession of one of our Owls it will be an act of war."

"Course plotted, sir," the helmsman said. "It's on your screen."

Warren looked down, noting that they would have to increase their acceleration to three tenths of a G in order to keep close enough. That was a little bit high for maintaining stealth mode but he really had no choice. "Initiate," he said. "And let's start preparing a report for CINCFARSP. I guess we'll break the communications routine after all."

"Sir," the communications officer suddenly spoke up, "I'm afraid that we won't be able to send a message by laser for a bit."

"Our alignment?" Warren asked with a sigh.

"Yes sir. Our path puts the planet between the receiver and us. We won't be able to lock on for another hour at least. There's always the radio of course, but..."

"No, maintain radio silence," Warren ordered. "I don't want the greenies or the EastHem's knowing that we're out here if we can avoid it. We'll just wait until the receiver is back in sight and send the report then."

"Aye sir," the communications officer said.

Mermaid's velocity continued to increase as the fusion engines burned and pushed them higher and higher above the planet. Mike in the engineering spaces continued to report a good status and gradually the crew began to relax a little.

Brett was still sitting in his chair, sipping out of a cup of coffee and chain-smoking cigarettes as he tried to work out some sort of drill schedule for the first week of their deployment. He needed to get everyone up to speed on the general quarters and damage control drills first and foremost. But there was also the abandon ship drill, the emergency deceleration drill, and half a dozen others that they needed to perfect before they went into combat the first time. And then there was the fact that most of the crew didn't know how to maneuver in low G's. Already there was one person in sickbay from falling down a ladder.

"Brett," said Sugiyoto, who was monitoring the detection and navigation computers, trying to run some tracking drills, "I know this sounds strange, but..."

"But what?" he said, looking up and glancing over.

"Well, I think I'm detecting something."

"What do you mean?" he asked, not terribly interested yet. They were after all, still in orbit. He figured that Sugi was maybe getting a reading on a communications or a research satellite in high orbit. The passive sensors that he was using were very receptive to that sort of thing after all.

"There are some white lines showing up at bearing 133 mark 42. Didn't you tell me that white lines could be a stealth ship exhaust?"

"Yes," Brett said thoughtfully, becoming a little more interested now. True, it was probably nothing, but that was the spectrum that an Owl or a Henry's plasma exhaust would be in. And it had been agreed that there was a better than even chance that one or both of those entities would try to put a stealth ship into orbit around Mars. "Let me take a look." He called up a duplicate of the display and saw immediately what Sugi was talking about.

"What do you think?" Sugi asked. "Am I just seeing things?"

"Oh, you're seeing things all right," Brett said, standing up. Moving carefully he walked across the bridge until he was standing next to him. "Try to clean up that image a little," he told him. "Fine tune it with the contrast dial and then turn the array directly onto it."

"Right," Sugi said, putting his hands to the screen. He fumbled with the touch sensitive screen controls for a moment and the image suddenly sharpened, showing a lot more white and even some blue. "Wow," he said. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Damn right," Brett told him. "Designate that contact and get it on the display." He walked back to his chair and pushed the general quarters alarm. He then turned on the intercom. "General quarters everyone," he told the ship. "This is not a drill, which is a good thing because we haven't drilled in that yet. Everyone get your emergency suits on and report to the area of the ship where you were told to go when we went GQ. Do it as quickly and as safely as possible and report in to your officer as soon as you get there. In the meantime, I'll tell you what we've got going on up here." He took a deep breath, wondering how his cherry crew was going to take this. "People, we've detected a stealth ship in an orbit just higher than ours. We don't have a positive identification yet, but my instinct tells me that it's another Owl. Whoever is driving it is running dumb, flaring his engines much hotter than he really should this close to another target. I'm going to maneuver us to get a better lock on him."

"Target is designated, Brett," Sugi said, pointing to the holographic screen before him.

"Good. Keep a lock on it, just like I showed you."

"Right," he said, nodding nervously.

"Helm," Brett said, "cut engines to point one G."

"Cutting engines," Mandall told him, her fingers going to her controls. A second later the gravity on the bridge suddenly reduced to near nothing.

"Bring us to new heading, 100 mark 20."

"One zero zero mark two-zero," she repeated, making more manipulations. Everyone felt the shudder of centrifugal force as they turned on their axis.

"The picture is tightening up," Sugi announced excitedly. "I getting some readings in the low spectrum now as well."

"Run an ID check on the signature," Brett told him. "Let's see if we can figure out who we're dealing with here."

"I don't remember how to do that," Sugi told him. "Sorry, Brett, but I..."

"It's okay," Brett assured him, getting out of his chair again and moving gingerly across the floor. He nearly fell once since they were still in the midst of a turn. Finally he reached the terminal. "Right there," he told Sugi. "The window on the bottom will open up a new screen for you. Just highlight the contact and drag it over there."

"Right." He did as he was told and the computer instantly gave a reading.

"The Marlin," Brett said, shaking his head in amusement. "I should've known. That moron Warren got command of it because his family has connections with the builder. He would be stupid enough to come chasing after us with his engines firing like that. Let's see if we can get a few more bearing readings and pin down a location."

"Right," Sugi said.

"Sir," said Pebley, "the Mermaid is maneuvering! Engine thrust has been reduced and I'm getting some thruster activities. Bearing is slowly changing left to right."

"What the hell are they doing now?" Warren asked, looking at the display on his own screen. "It almost looks like they're maneuvering to prosecute us."

"If they have a detection watch operating," said Lovington, "they probably picked us up. We're awfully close to them and we're burning our engines pretty hard."

"Do you really think that a captured crew would have reported sighting us?" Warren asked. "That would be traitorous."

"Didn't Mermaid have a greenie detection operator?" Lovington said. "I seem to remember Hoffman going on and on about him once at a party."

"Yes, you're right," Warren said, shaking his head. "He said he was pretty competent for a greenie. I bet that fuck is on board that ship right now, looking at us." He sighed. "Goddamn it. We spend a million dollars training that ungrateful greenie and look how he repays us."

"What do we do now?"

Warren though it over for a few moments. "Cut engine power to a tenth of G," he finally ordered. "That should bring our signature out of detection range."

"Cutting power to point one," the helmsman answered.

"I lost the signal, Brett," Sugi said. "It just died!"

"That's okay," Brett said. "I was kind of expecting that. He figured out that we were tracking him and cut his engines."

"What do we do now?"

"We have a rough course plotted don't we?"

"Yes, but we don't have a range."

"Fire up the active sensors but keep them on standby for now," Brett ordered. "We'll find him again when we need to." He looked at the communications terminal. "Frank, get me naval operations on the screen. Use radio signals but encrypt them."

"Right," Frank replied.

"And how many stations have reported in manned and ready for GQ? It's been nearly five minutes now."

"Only engineering," Frank answered.

"Damn it, not fast enough," Brett said. He turned on the intercom again. "Listen up, crew. I really hate to rush you guys and I know we haven't done this before, but I really need you to move your asses getting to your GQ stations. We need to get the airtight doors shut and the weapons manned. We've identified the contact as the Marlin, which is a WestHem Owl. We might be shooting it out with them in a minute." He flipped the intercom back off and reached down for his cigarettes. "Why does this shit have to happen in the first hour out?" he asked the air.

Admiral Belting himself answered the emergency hail. His face appeared on Brett's screen looking worried. "Is there a problem, Brett?" he asked anxiously.

"Nothing with the ship, Admiral," Brett told him quickly. "But it seems we have some company out here. We detected the Marlin in a high orbit just as we were accelerating to break our own orbit. It appeared that she was tracking us and maneuvering to stay with us. I ordered a maneuver to prosecute them and they cut their engines down. We lost her at that point but I think she's close enough for us to pick up with an active search."

"Did you get a course and range?" Belting asked.

"Approximate course. Not enough readings for a range though and my people are still trying to get to GQ positions so I didn't want to go active until that was done. To tell you the truth, I don't think we're really up for a fight with them just now."

"Understood," Belting told him. "Stand by on your active search for now. I'll get some A-12s out to you."

"Copy that," he said. "Standing by."

"Keep me updated if there are any changes."