Mace stabbed an orange sphere with her finger. That had to be it. With no power emissions to track and no precomputed course to search with the telescope Excalibur would be forced to use active scanning to search out her quarry. That might work but it would also give away their position. At the short detection ranges possible in the particle haze they'd probably earn a beamrider missile in the tracking array for their trouble. Earth's facilities were no use. They were powerful enough to find the kzin through the fog, but Earth was over a light-hour away and hyperwave didn't work inside the singularity. It would take an hour to ask for help, two more for Earth to bounce a beam off the scout and another for them to tell her what they'd found. By then the kzin would be long, long gone.
Mace mentally doffed her hat to the enemy captain. He'd led her straight down the garden path to her present predicament. First he'd made her think he was attacking, then that he was fleeing and while she was preoccupied chasing shadows he'd just tiptoed out the back door. She'd like to meet that cat — not that it was very likely under the circumstances. Of course she'd try her best.
With sudden decision she keyed the intercom. “Weapons officer to the bridge.”
A few moments later he stepped through the bulkhead. Lieutenant Curzon was tall and lanky, with a face that managed to be simultaneously roguish and boyish. His movements were sure and self-confident. He had a reputation as a lady-killer, and Mace could see why. Of course any sort of personal involvement was out of the question. Not that the idea was unpleasant, but its effect on shipboard morale would be disastrous. Elizabeth was no prude, but she was Excalibur's commanding officer first and last.
Quickly she outlined the situation and her conclusions, illustrated by the combat display. “We can't track him in that soup passively, and our active scanners will be so degraded that by the time we get a lock we'll be well inside his missile range. The only way we'll find him is if he emits something, and he's not going to do that until he's ready to jump out.”
“So our job is to make him give himself away, without giving ourselves away in the process.” Whatever Curzon's reputation, he was the soul of professionalism when it came to the job at hand.
“Exactly. What I want to do is launch a spread of missiles, on these courses.” She touched a key and a fan of lines spread out from Excalibur's icon, skewering the orange cloud. “I don't want them to switch to active scanning until they enter the cloud, and I want them to go to target-track mode halfway through, whether they've acquired anything or not.”
“And make them think we've got a lock on them when we don't.” Curzon was smiling, the rogue showing through.
Mace smiled back. “How long?” she asked.
Curzon was already on his way out. “Ten minutes,” he said. “Ten minutes or you can have my next leave.” He was running when he left the control room, leaving her wondering if the ambiguity in his words was deliberate or not.
In fact it was only eight minutes before the ready lights on the launch board flicked back to Armed. Excalibur had reversed course and was coasting towards Mace's best guess at the kzin's position. The viewscreen was back on but showed only stars, their hard brilliance undiminished by the particle storm. Despite the havoc it was playing with their sensors it was little more than hard vacuum in the visible spectrum. She keyed the intercom. “All turrets stand by, missile bay sequence launch as planned.” A faint tremor came through the floor and a blue icon appeared on her display. Mace held her breath and watched intently. Even if the kzin didn't fall for the ploy there was the chance that Excalibur would pick up an echo from one of the missiles. Another tremor and another icon appeared, following a different track. There was nothing to do but wait.
“Missile detected!” Sensor Operator's voice cut through the silent control room like a knife. “No lock yet.” A wiggling line on his display showed the telltale signature of the missile's search beam.
“It's not on an intercept course, Captain.” Sraowl-Navigator's voice was hushed, as though the Terran's sensors would register a louder tone.
“They are firing blind, hoping to make us betray ourselves. If they had located us they would use lasers.” Chraz-Captain was calm, in control. “Back plot its trajectory and give me a targeting point. Senior Gunner, soft-launch a four-spread on those parameters, passive seekers only.”
Seconds later Sraowl-Navigator had a firing solution punched through to the combat computer. The lights went down and the purr of the lifesystem stopped as Senior Gunner drew power to his launch coils. No need to risk increasing their generator output for the few extra minutes it would take to charge them on minimum power. Of course the enemy might detect the emission spike when the coils discharged but that risk had to be taken. The particle fog was thinning as it expanded, but it should still be thick enough to hide so small a pulse. Chraz-Captain didn't dwell on what would happen if it was not.
A series of thumps reverberated through the ship. Simultaneously the missiles appeared on Chraz-Captain's battle plot. With engines off they crawled along their trajectory lines with painful slowness. No matter, time was on his side and now he too had his claws extended. Let the humans give chase and he'd have their ears on his belt. He watched the plot with his own ears swiveled forward and his pupils dilated, a predator watching prey wander into striking distance.
“Missile has locked on, sir! Drive emissions changing aspect!” The line on Sensor Operator's screen was pulsing faster, the peaks higher and sharper. Chraz-Captain felt a spike of attack/panic run through his system, his ears whipped flat against his skull, fur bristling. Then self-control reasserted itself and he watched the flashing symbol. The missile had passed them before locking on. It would need to decelerate before it could start tracking them, giving him the precious seconds he needed to scent the wind. Perhaps they had been acquired, perhaps this was another primate trick to flush their quarry. The atmosphere grew thick with hunt-tension and an undertone of fear. Sraowl-Navigator's voice was a muted snarl as he gave commands to the computer. Moments later he reported. “Missile is reversing course, the new vector is not an intercept either.” The relief was evident in his voice.
Chraz-Captain relaxed, slightly. His eyes were still glued to the battle plot, watching the vector line of the searching enemy missile and the slow, silent progress of his own. His liver held but two desires, to see the symbol for the human ship appear and to see Silent Prowler slide across the frustratingly close line that marked the edge of Sol's singularity. At full acceleration they could cross the gap in minutes, but the destroyer would detect their drive spoor and her lasers would not miss. Had he more of the kzreeoowtz-fog-throwers he could escape behind a redensified haze screen. The monkeys would be left stalking shadows. He abandoned that line of thought. One might wish for one's tree to grow meat, but it was better to watch for prey. Silent Prowler's sensors were extensive and powerful, her mission demanded it. They were a small target while the destroyer was large and Advanced Sensor Operator was thoroughly familiar with the dynamics of the particle haze where the man-monkeys had to grope blindly for the band gaps where the interference was less intense. If the humans crept too close he would surely spot them first. Then, with their target's speed and trajectory known for certain and the range so short…