Of course, it could be sabotage. That’s why she walked the lines herself, struggling to relearn the details of the system so that she knew what she was looking for. But in any complicated system of tubing and pumps, a thousand opportunities exist for subtle acts of sabotage, and she didn’t expect to find anything obvious. She was right.
As the ship’s days passed in pursuit, with the Ssli certain that it had a lock on the ships ahead, Huron finally came around. Literally, as he appeared at her cabin door with a peace offering: wine and pastries. Sassinak had not realized how much she’d missed his support until she saw the old grin on his face.
“Peace offering,” he said. Typically, he wasn’t trying to pretend they’d had no quarrel. Sassinak nodded, and waved him in. He set the basket of hot, sugary treats on her desk, and opened the wine. They settled down in comfortable chairs, one on either side of the pastry basket, and munched in harmony for a few minutes.
“I was afraid they’d split up, or we’d lose them,” he said with a sideways glance. “And then when we got the final scan on the escort - that it might have been fatal to take it on - I knew you were right, but I just couldn’t - “
“Never mind.” Sassinak leaned back against the padded chair. Just to have someone to talk with, to relax with - it wasn’t over, and it was going to get worse before it got better, but if Huron could accept her decision…
“I wish we knew where they’re going!” He bit into his pastry so hard that flaky bits showered across his lap. He muttered a curse through the mouthful of food, and Sassinak chuckled. Problems and all, life was more fun with Huron in her cabin some nights.
“Huh. Don’t we all! And I don’t dare send anything back to Sector HQ in case something intercepts it…”
“Remember when Ssli and the IFTL system were new, and we were sure no one else had them?” He was still swiping crumbs from his lap, and looked up at her with the mischievous lift of eyebrow she’d come to love.
“Sure do.” Sassinak ran her hands through her dark hair, and flipped the ends toward him. His eyes widened, then narrowed again.
“One track mind.” He shook his head at her.
“You’re any different?” Sassinak pointed to the now-empty pastry basket and the bottle of wine. “Think I can’t recognize bait when I see it?”
“Brains with your beauty - and a few other things…” His eyes finished what she had started, and they were more than halfway undressed when Sassinak remembered to switch the intercom to alert-only. The bridge crew knew what that meant, she thought with satisfaction, before dragging the big brilliantly rainbowed comforter over the pair of them.
“And what I still don’t understand,” said Huron, far more awake than usual for 0200, “is how they could mount all that on a hull that size. Are they crewing it with midgets, or what?”
Sassinak had taken a short nap, and wakened to find Huron tracing elaborate curlicues on her back while he stared at the readout on the overhead display. She yawned, pushed back a thick tangle of hair, and reached up to switch the display off. “Later…”
He switched it back on. “No, seriously - “
“Seriously, I’m sleepy. Turn it off, or go look at it somewhere else.”
He glowered at her. “Some Fleet captain you are, lazing around like someone’s lapcat after a dish of cream.”
Sassinak purred loudly, yawned again, and realized she was going to wake all the way up, like it or not. “Big weapons, small hull. Reminds me of something.” Huron blushed, extensively, and Sassinak snapped her teeth at him. “Call your captain a cat, and you deserve to get bit, chum. If we’re going to go back to work, I’m getting dressed.” She felt a lot better, relaxed and alert all at once.
Now that she was awake, she realized that she had not followed through on the analysis of the escort vessel as carefully as she could have. She’d been thinking too much about her main decision and its implications. Together she and Huron ran the figures several times, and then adjourned to the main wardroom. She called in both Arly and Hollister. They arrived blinking and yawning: as mainshift crew, they were normally asleep at this hour. After a cup of stimulant and some food, they came fully awake.
“The question is, are we sure of our data, even that last? Is that thing built on a patrol-class hull, and if so does it really carry those weapons, and if so what’s their crew size and how are they staying alive?” Sassinak took the last spiced bun off the platter the night cook had brought in.
Hollister shrugged. “That new detection system isn’t really my specialty, but if that’s the size we think - dimensional and mass - then it’ll depend on weaponry. With up-to-date environmental, guidance, and drive systems, they’d need a crew of fifty to work normal shifts - plus weapons specialists. Say, sixty to seventy altogether. If they work long shifts, maybe fifty altogether, but they’d chance fatigue errors - “
“But they don’t expect to need top efficiency for long,” Sassinak said. “They come in, rout a colony, escort the transport to their base, wherever that is… and most times they never see trouble.”
“Fifty, then. That means… mmm…” He ran some figures into the nearest terminal. ”‘Bout what I thought. Look - “ A ship schematic came up on the main screen at the end of the table. “Fifty crew, here’s the calories and water needs… best guess at system efficiency… and that means they’ll need eight standard filtration units, eight sets of re-op converters, plus the UV trays - “ As he talked, the schematic filled with green lines and blocks, the standard representation of environmental system units. “This is assuming their FTL route doesn’t take more than twenty-five standard days, and they’ve got the same kind of oxygen recharge system we do. Most surveyed routes come in under twenty days, as you know. Now if we add the probable drives: we know they have insystem chem boosters as well as insystem mains, and FTL - “ The drive components came up in blue. “And minimum crew space: access and living - “ That was yellow. “Weapons?”
Arly took over, and the schematic suddenly bled with red weapons symbols. “This is what we got off the scans, captain. Their IFF was a real nutcase: no sense at all. But the passives showed two distinct patterns of radiation leakage: here, and there. And we saw how they knocked out those ground-space missiles… they do have optical weapons.”
“And it doesn’t fit,” said Huron, sounding entirely too smug. “Look.” Sure enough, the display had a blinking symbol in one corner: excess volume specified.
Arly looked stubborn. “I could not ignore the scan data - “
“Of course not.” Sassinak held up her hand for silence when both mouths opened. “Look, Huron, both the scans and this schematic come in part from assumptions we made about those criminals.If they crew their ship to a level we think safe,if they aren’t stressing their environmental system,if a few extra particles means that they’ve got a neutron bomb… all if.”
“We have to make some assumptions!”
“Yes. I do. I’m assuming they sacrifice everything else to speed and firepower. They want no witnesses: they want to be sure they can blow anything - up to a battle platform, let’s say - into nothing, before it can call in help. They want to be able to escape any pursuit. They’re not out on patrol as long as we normally are: they sacrifice comfort, and some levels of efficiency. I will bet you that they’re under-crewed and carry every scrap of armament our scans found.”
“Less crew means they could have a smaller environmental system,” said Hollister.