“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. TheZaid-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 theZaid-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 theZaid-Dayan’s tiny IFF was not in the wreckage - only a Fleet ship could enable that. She looked at the navigational display - 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 shut it off. I had it wired to the far side, but still - “
“The gods love us,” said Sass. She looked around, meeting all their eyes. “All right, people, we’ve done it so far: now we’ll be hiding out silently for awhile, until they’re convinced. Then repairs. Then I suppose we’d better explain to Fleet that we weren’t actually blown away.”
They looked good, on the whole, she thought: still tense, but not too stressed, and confident. “Full stealth,” she said, and they moved to comply, switching off non-essential systems, and powering up the big gray canisters amidships to do whatever they did however they did it.
There was still the matter of the person who caused the first disturbance, and Sassinak wondered why more trouble hadn’t surfaced during the fight. Surely that would have been the perfect time… unless she’d sent the subversive off with Huron, part of the boarding party. Her heart contracted. If she had - if he didn’t know, if he were killed because - she shook her head. No time for that. Huron had his own ship; he’d deal with it. She had to believe he could do it - and besides, she hadn’t any choice. Here, though - what about that cargo lift?
She called Major Currald, the marine commander, and asked who had been assigned to secure the cargo lift when they cordoned the area.
“Captain, it’s my fault. I didn’t give specific orders - “
She looked at his broad face in the monitor. Subversive? Saboteur? She couldn’t believe it, not with his record and the way he’d handled the rest of the engagement. If he’d slipped much, the enemy would have won. “Very well,” she said finally. “I’m holding a briefing in my quarters after the overpass - probably about four hours - we’re going to need your input, too.” So. The cargo lift could be pure accident, or “Once is accident, twice is coincidence, and three times is enemy action.” That reminded her to take it off bridge voice command, now that the fight was over. Once could be enemy action, too.
Sassinak had taken what precautions she could to ensure that only a few senior officers had access to controls for exterior systems. If her bridge crew wanted to sabotage her, there was really no way to prevent it. Now, with the ship on full stealth routine, all they could do was wait as the enemy’s ships appeared, and see if they accepted the evidence of a fierce and fatal struggle. Every kind of debris they might expect to find was there, and surely none of them had any idea what, precisely, theZaid-Dayan was. They would not know what total mass to expect. Besides, that Fleet beacon screeching its electronic head off was not the sort of thing a live captain wanted reporting on his or her actions. She winced, thinking of what would happen when its signal finally reached a Fleet relay station, if she hadn’t managed to get word through on a sublight link earlier. She had better have a whole ship, and a live crew, and a good story to tell.
In the meantime, they had another hour and a bit to wait until the first of the enemy ships came into scan. Miserable as it was, they should stay in their protective gear until it was obvious that the enemy had accepted the scam. Not that a suit would really keep anyone alive long on that moonlet, but -
“Coffee, captain?” Sassinak glanced around, and smiled at the steward with a tray of mugs. She was, she realized, feeling the letdown after battle. She waved him toward the rest of the bridge crew. They could all use something. But she had something better than coffee… a private vice, as Abe had called her leftover sweet tooth. She always kept some in her emergency gear, and this was just the time for it… chocolate, rare and expensive. And addictive, the medical teams said, but no worse than coffee. She left her mug cooling on the edge of her console as the thin brown wedge went into her mouth. Much better. As they waited, the crew settled again to routine tasks, and Sassinak assessed their mood. They had gained confidence - she liked the calm but determined expressions, the clear eyes and steady voices. Most of the bridge crew made an excuse to speak to her; she sensed their approval and trust.
The first enemy vessel appeared on scan, high and fast, a streak across their narrow wedge of vision. It continued with no visible sign of burn or course change; the computer confirmed. Another, lower, from the other side, followed within an hour. This one flooded the moonlet with targeting radar impulses… which theZaid-Dayan passively absorbed, analyzed, and reflected as if it were just another big rock. Over the next couple of hours, three more of the small ships crossed their scan; none of them changed course or showed any interest in the moon.