“Space fighters like the Cheerick?” the XO asked.
“Possible,” Bill said. “Even likely depending upon their tech. Space fighters require that you have a technology that accelerates a small system faster than a more massive one. If they have that, then space fighters are a possibility. This is all guess-work.”
“Conn, Tactical. Target’s emission profile is changing. Target bearing seems to be changing. I believe they might have launched something. Separation. Conn, Tactical. Sierra One bearing change. Bearing now one-one-three mark one-seven. New target, designate Sierra Two. Energy profile lower. Bearing constant. Range decreasing.”
“Keep me updated on Sierra Two,” the CO said. “Send Sierra One data to Astrogation. Weaver, where are they going?”
“Working on that, sir,” Bill said. “It will be a minute.”
“Conn, Tactical. Sierra Two closing at over one thousand gravities of acceleration. Sierra Two redesignate, Bandit Group One. Count twelve. May be Bandits or Vampires, still unsure.”
“Space fighters,” the CO said, nodding. “Very high accel.”
“Higher than ours, sir,” the XO pointed out.
“Yep,” the CO replied. “Recalibrate tubes two and four for bandit signatures. Fire on my mark.”
“Aye, aye.”
“Conn, Tactical, Bandits at three light-seconds and closing.”
“Communications,” the CO said. “Send them a hail. Standard first contact dits and dashes.” He looked over at the XO. “See what they make of that. Astro, Sierra One?”
“Headed on a bearing to intercept our friends,” Bill said. “About seven hours to that location at three hundred gravities. Depending upon their system, they may have to slow down or they’ll be going really fast when they get there. In which case longer.”
“Gimme a view of Bandit One,” the CO said.
There was barely a shimmer on the viewscreen. The smaller ships were too small at that range to resolve well.
“I wonder how much fuel those things have,” Spectre mused. “Are they missiles or space fighters? Are they designed to be recovered, in other words, or do they destroy themselves in a wealth of glorious energy release? If we outrun their point of no return, will they turn around and rejoin their carrier or blow up?”
“Knowing the Dreen, they’re probably grown, sir,” Weaver said. “They could be a bit of both. If they do the mission and have enough fuel to return, they return. If not, they die in space. They’re just an organic extrusion of the ship. The way the Dreen work, anything is just an organic extrusion, no more important to them than skin cells flaking off are to us. They may even be consumed upon return rather than, say, refueled, rearmed and refurbished. The ship is probably able to grow more as long as it has the necessary components.”
“Space fighters and missiles?”
“If they fire something at us they’re space fighters,” Bill said, shrugging. “If they try to close with us and destroy us they’re missiles. We’re trying to apply human terms to Dreen. It doesn’t always work.”
“Conn, Tactical. Emission pulse from Bandit Group One—”
“They’re space fighters,” the CO said. Before Tactical could finish speaking, beams of actinic blue light flashed through space, all of them missing the rapidly jinking ship. “XO, fire tubes two and four. Wide spread.”
“Fire Tubes Two and Four!” the XO ordered. “Wide spread.”
The torpedoes were jetted out of the back of the ship under air power, then briefly engaged their spin stabilization and primary boost thrusters to launch themselves away from the ship and the incoming fire.
The ship rocked as both of the ardune torps detonated at under a thousand meters.
“Damage control!” the CO called.
“No reports of damage,” the XO replied. “Everything holding.”
“Let’s not launch any more missiles unless we’re way away from these guys,” Spectre said. “The only thing that saved us was that explosions don’t propagate for shit in space. Pilot, engage Warp One. Get us back to three light-seconds separation.”
“Warp One, aye,” the pilot replied.
“Tactical, keep us up on range.”
“Range two point three light-seconds, two point seven, two point nine…”
“Drop out of warp,” the CO said. “We’re going to give this chase another twenty minutes, then head to our friends. I just want to see if we can use up their fuel. Tactical, Sierra One?”
“Continually changing bearing,” Tactical replied. “They’re headed for somewhere other than us. Bandit group closing again.”
“They probably can do this for hours, sir,” Bill pointed out. “And we don’t know how long the repairs are going to take.”
“Agreed,” the CO said. “XO, set tubes one and two. Just drop them out this time, though.”
“Aye, aye.”
“So, Weaver, heard any good ones lately?”
“Did you hear the one about how Dreen get a date, sir?”
“No. How do Dreen — ?”
“Tubes set,” the XO interjected.
“Pilot, when I say launch, go to Warp One for three seconds.”
“Warp One three seconds on launch, aye, aye.”
“XO… launch!”
“Launch tubes one and three!”
“And they didn’t blow them up,” the CO said as they came out of warp. “Nice to know. Now to see if we can get any of them. Tactical, how long until the bandit group reaches the mines?”
“Seven minutes, Conn.”
“So we wait,” the CO said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “So, how do Dreen get a date, Astro?”
“Tactical, what’s the status on Bandit Group One?”
“Should be closing the mines, Conn,” Tactical replied. “They are within their engagement range based on previous engagement. My count says ten seconds and an additional three and a half second light delay. Any second, now…”
The space fighters were nearly impossible to pick out on the screen, but the flash wasn’t.
“Whoa,” Spectre said. “Was that one or two? Did we get them or did they detect them? Tactical?”
“Our systems are still whited out from the detonations, Conn, wait one… Conn, Tactical. Two detonations right on the second to intercept time. Bandit Group One now… Six… No, eight bandits.”
“We got four of them,” Spectre said, nodding. “That’s what I wanted to know. We can get them if we’re lucky and smart. Very well. Commander Weaver, set a course for our friends and let’s hope they can get the repairs done in time.”
18
“Good haul,” Kond said. “But that’s grapping bad news about the Dreen, man. Gonna be tighter than a gnat’s ass.”
Spectre made a killing motion with his hand and looked around the conn.
“Is it just me, or did that get more colloquial while we were gone?”
“Let’s try to explain that to them at a later date, sir,” the XO said.
“Right,” the CO replied, pointing at the screen. “How do you want to do this?”
“Bring your ship alongside and we will remove the wing,” Kond said. “We have technicians who are familiar with the system.”
“XO, bring us alongside.”
“Is the squee intact?”
“The engine on the end of the wing?” Spectre replied. “We don’t know.”
“Having a spare unreality generator would be radical, dude. I sure hope it’s working.”