Impulse (16 page)

“How well do you know this man?” she demanded of me. I hesitated, but only for a second.

“Well enough to know he would give his life for me or anyone else on board, sir,” I said.

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” she replied. “Your orders, Commander, are to keep your eyes open, your sidearm loaded, and your loyalty firmly rooted to the Union Navy. Do you understand me, Commander?”

“I do, sir,” I said quickly. I felt her nod against me.

“Report any change to me immediately, not to him.” Then she straightened up. “Carry on, Commander,” she said in a casual voice, and then walked away from my station.

I turned back to my display board, wondering again what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

It took us six more hours at full propulsion, but we had halved Tralfane's lead in that time.

“What's he doing?” asked the captain rhetorically as we watched our former ship crawling toward the inner moon of Levant Prime. “It's almost like he's waiting for us.”

“That's exactly what he's doing,” said Serosian, surprising us both. The Historian's unexpected return to the yacht's nerve center had caught us off guard. We snapped around to see him standing over us after having emerged from his inner sanctum.

“Explain,” said Dobrina. This time Serosian crossed his arms.

“I've analyzed both his power emissions and his projected course. I can only conclude that he is exactly where he wants to be. He could have accelerated a long time ago and put us out of range to even track him. I can only conclude that he is therefore waiting for us to arrive.”

“Waiting for us?” asked Dobrina. “Waiting to do battle?”

Serosian shook his head. “I doubt that. He would know that this yacht and
Impulse
are an even match in any battle. He must have something else in mind. A display, perhaps.”

“Display?” I said. “Of what?”

The Historian shrugged. “I could only speculate, which I am not going to do.” Now Dobrina crossed her arms again as the two of them engaged in another standoff.

“You've been very unhelpful, Mr. Serosian,” she said. He nodded.

“And yet, here we are, within barely a light-hour of our target. I suggest, Captain, that we adjust our course not to intercept
Impulse
, but to get us within firing range as soon as possible,” he said. The captain looked to me.

“Can we do that?” she asked. I turned to my console.

“If we adjust our track, I can put us in a parabolic approach, which will shorten our distance to firing range by nearly twenty minutes,” I said, turning back to my friend and my commanding officer in expectation. The captain hesitated only a second.

“Do it,” she commanded, then walked away toward Marker and Layton, who were in their rest bunks. Serosian stepped up.

“Well done, Peter,” he said. I shrugged.

“It is
your
ship,” I said, plugging in the calculations as my fingers swept over the smooth console.

“Yes, but you have mastered the controls rather elegantly. You have great learning skills, Peter. And that may come in very handy in the next few hours.”

“You suspect trouble from Tralfane?” I said without turning from my work.

“Suspect? No,” he said. “I expect it.”

I laid in our new course without another word. The yacht adjusted and moved at my commands, diving into the darkness between two moons and into a very uncertain future.

A Battle over Levant

O
ur track took us close to the outer moon of Levant Prime, the larger of the two. The inner moon was smaller and in a close orbit to the outer moon, only about fifty thousand kilometers distant. Both were tidally locked to the main planet however, and except for the occasional close approach we were witnessing now, the two seemed to rarely bother each other.

Impulse
was between us and the inner moon. She'd slowed to nearly a crawl, in space terms, just ten thousand clicks between us. But we were starting to decelerate, hoping to gain a firing solution on her in the next few minutes as we curved under the larger outer moon and out of her shadow.

We were all at stations now: Dobrina and Serosian to my left, Layton and Marker at tactical stations behind us. I was responsible for helm and weapons, Marker for defense and Layton, propulsion. Captain Kierkopf sat nervously, obviously unhappy at being left out of both the decision making and the line duties. Her fingernails tapped on the console's metal edge.

“Status, Mr. Layton?” asked Serosian.

“Deceleration complete, sir. Impellers on standby at your command,” he replied. The Historian nodded.

“Mr. Cochrane, you're flying her now. Bring us about to point seven-five-five above the solar ecliptic. Prepare to fire on my order,” he said. I looked to the captain, who opened her mouth to say something, then nodded to me.

“Aye, sir,” I said, then adjusted our course and speed to bring
Impulse
into our sights.

“Mr. Marker,” said Serosian, “power the forward coil cannon and transfer firing command to Mr. Cochrane.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Marker. “Should I enhance the Hoagland Field forward to protect us from
Impulse's
reply?” he asked. It was a logical question, I thought. Serosian nearly bit his head off.

“
Negative
,” boomed the Earthman. “Maintain full shield integrity in all directions equally. The field generators will adjust automatically as need be. We have to be prepared for an attack from
any
angle.”

At this the captain leaned in to the Historian and spoke softly, but still loud enough for me to hear.

“What do you suspect?” she asked.

“Anything, Captain,” said Serosian, equally quietly. “Anything.”

I was momentarily distracted from my board. When I looked back at my tactical display it had gone red.

“Sir,” I said loudly, “It's
Impulse
, she's—”

“Accelerating again. I see it,” said Serosian. “Mr. Layton, impellers at half force, if you please. Mr. Cochrane, stay on your tactical display and continue to calculate a firing solution. I will handle the helm from here.”

I acknowledged his order and went back to my board, recalculating every few seconds as
Impulse
maneuvered away from us, now tacking back toward the larger moon. I focused on her, tracking her every move as I scrambled for my firing solution.

I was unsure what happened next. I found myself on the floor, looking up at my console, disoriented and dizzy. I heard a voice in my ear, but it was muddy and distant. I closed my eyes again and rolled my head from side to side. Suddenly the sound of an impact alarm became clear in my mind, groaning loudly as I tried to sit up. I felt a firm hand lift me up by the arm and drop me back in my seat. I looked to Serosian, who was back at the control console, his hands moving desperately across the board.

“What happened?” I mumbled. My own voice sounded distorted inside my head, like I was hearing it through bad speakers.

“Displacement wave,” said Serosian. “From the large moon. If we'd had our defensive field focused forward on
Impulse
we wouldn't be here now.”

I looked to the captain. She was unconscious on her station couch, as were Marker and Layton. “How—” I started. Serosian cut me off.

“You were linked into the tactical system. It kept you from taking the full surge of the wave,” he said. “Can you function, Peter? I need you to take the tactical again if you can. We have to take out those wave generators before they fire again or we're finished.” I nodded yes and then turned back to my board, linking into the plasma and “feeling” the controls under my fingertips once again. My display came back online and I tried to track what we were aiming at.
Impulse
was long gone from my screen and I could see Serosian had turned us back toward the larger moon. As near as I could tell he was trying to track an energy tracer back to the origin point of the wave. I watched as he tacked the yacht, angling her away from the trace.

“Can you get a firing solution now, Peter?” he asked. “I've got my hands full with the helm.” I nodded affirmative and took over the tracking, then activated the forward coil cannon. The tactical display gave me an almost instant firing solution.

“Got it,” I said aloud.

“Fire when ready,” Serosian responded. I hit the firing control and watched as the orange bolt of energy ripped through space instantaneously, lancing the surface of the rocky moon and causing a massive explosion of material, dust, and debris. Serosian scanned the site quickly as he turned the yacht back toward
Impulse
, which was accelerating away from us toward the inner moon on full impellers now. She'd apparently pivoted the instant we were hit by the displacement wave.

“Neutralized,” said Serosian. “Good shooting.”

At this Dobrina began to moan and opened her eyes. “What happened?” she asked.

“Displacement wave,” I said to her. “From the outer moon. It's been neutralized.” She nodded and then turned toward Marker and Layton, getting up and helping them back to their stations.

“What's our status?” she demanded of Serosian, ever the captain.

“We were hit by a displacement wave weapon from the surface of the large moon. This system seems riddled with them. The weapon has been taken out and I am now attempting to get us back in range of
Impulse
, but she's accelerating away from us again, toward the inner moon,” he said.

“Why?”

“That I don't know, Captain. But flying this yacht is a difficult task, so if you don't mind?” His tone and his use of her formal rank indicated he was not about to be distracted or deterred in his quest for
Impulse
. She motioned to me and I went back to my board, alarmed at what I saw.

“Captain, I'm picking up another displacement wave,” I warned, “Coming from the inner moon.”

Serosian checked his board in alarm then hit the impeller controls, temporarily overriding our inertial dampers and sending us scrambling about the deck of the yacht once again. I regained my seat. “Sir, we're right in its path, and so is
Impulse
,” I said.

“I know,” both Kierkopf and Serosian answered at the same time. Kierkopf moved away from Serosian and back to her station couch, quickly strapping in. The rest of us did the same. I looked at my tactical display. It was as red as a holiday bauble, showing that the weapon on the inner moon had gone critical. From my station I could see Serosian was tacking us away from the line of fire as quickly as he could. Then I took a reading on
Impulse
.

“Sir,
Impulse
has dropped her Hoagland Field!” I warned. Captain Kierkopf checked her display.

“He's right. She's helpless!” she said. “Can we extend our field around
Impulse
, to protect her?”

Serosian shook his head. “Not at this distance.”

“Is he trying to kill her?” I asked.

“Unknown,” said Serosian. “But that weapon is at least a hundred times more powerful than the one on the outer moon. If Tralfane hopes to escape the destruction of
Impulse
, he's already too late.”

We watched the primary display in silence as the wave shot out from the inner moon, a white-hot energy bolt cutting through space. I winced involuntarily, not wanting to see my ship and her crew incinerated.

The next instant changed everything.

The wave of energy terminated at a point in space, just a few hundred kilometers in front of
Impulse
. As we watched, the expended energy lit up a ring of satellites with a powerful white glow. The ring formed a perfect circle, kilometers across. The satellites pulsed into life, and a dark membrane of energy formed between them, blotting out the stars and the partial view of the inner moon's surface. We watched in astonishment as
Impulse
accelerated toward the membrane, impacted the event horizon, and then vanished completely as it crossed the plane.

Into the black.

We were investigating the now-silent inner moon, looking for the source of the wave. There was a large base on the moon, of unknown origin, and we were determined to find its secrets and figure out what had just happened to
Impulse
and its crew.

Unfortunately, we had other problems as well. The outburst of energy from the inner moon combined with the displacement wave we had taken dead-on from the outer moon had overloaded many of the yacht's principal systems. The damage was not permanent, but as Serosian explained, it would take time to repair.

“The yacht will heal itself, but that is not the issue at hand,” he said.

“Then what is?” asked the captain.

“The issue is that the more use we make of the ship's systems, the longer time the ship will require to return to full function.”

“So you're saying we should let the ship ‘rest' while it repairs itself?” asked the captain. Serosian nodded.

“It would be best. And I have coordinates on that wave. It was fired from what appears to be a base on the surface of the inner moon.” The captain looked concerned at this.

“A manned base?” she said. Serosian shrugged.

“Unknown. But I do think it might be in our best interests to find out,” he said. Kierkopf nodded absently while she considered this tactic.

“If it's manned, we'll have to go in armed,” I stated.

“Right now the base looks abandoned,” said Serosian. “Barely half an hour since the wave was launched, and the base is as cold and quiet as the rocks it's embedded in. If you weren't looking for it, you'd never know it was there.”

Captain Kierkopf ran her thumb across her lips, thinking. “What about backup? Can we contact
Starbound
with the longwave?” she asked.

“I already have,” replied the Historian. “But a reply through all of the hyperdimensional scatter in this system is unlikely. If she received my coded pulse she will be on her way, but it could still be two or three days before she arrives in-system.”

“So we're on our own. Very well. We go in then. Full shields and weapons, mind you,” Kierkopf said.

“That will delay our repair,” protested Serosian.

“I'm willing to risk that for the safety of my remaining command, Mr. Serosian,” she said. She turned to me. “Mr. Cochrane, you will organize the recon team. We'll land within a click or two of the base and make our approach on foot. If there are no surprises along the way, we'll go in and find out what the hell just happened to our Lightship.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, unsure what was coming but excited about the opportunity ahead.