“Yes, sir. If I had to guess, I’d say the Atlantis is either a destroyer or light cruiser, and the other two are converted and possibly beefed-up corvettes.”
Firepower, and to spare. “What about the 9862 system itself? Dug up anything on that yet?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, leaning over his shoulder to tap a few keys on his console. A
chart appeared on Roman’s helm display, with the star marked in flashing brackets.
“It’s a blue-white giant, about six hundred light-years from the Cordonale. Pretty undistinguished, as far as I can see from what little we’ve got on it. No mention of any visits to the system; no indication, for that matter, that anybody’s ever so much as had a passing interest in the place.”
“Until now,” Roman said, tapping the data listing on the display. “I note the star’s very similar in size and magnitude to the one the shark chased us away from.
Coincidence?”
“It could be a yishyar,” Kennedy agreed. “I guess well know for sure in a couple of hours.”
Roman’s radio crackled. “Web One to Amity. All finished here; we’re coming in.”
“Acknowledged,” Roman said, and switched to the comm laser. “Amity to Atlantis; come in.”
“Atlantis; Captain Lekander,” the calm—and very military—voice came back promptly. The face on the screen was an excellent match to the voice. “What’s our status, Amity?”
“My web boats will be back in about ten minutes,” Roman told him. “At that point we’ll be ready whenever you are.”
“Good,” Lekander said briskly. “I’m not sure what you were told, Captain, but here’s the scenerio. A research team running on a very precise schedule has come up almost six hours overdue. We’re going in to find out what happened to them.”
“Pretending to be a civilian research team?” Roman asked mildly.
Lekander’s face didn’t change. “It was thought your Tampies might balk at ferrying military ships,” he said. “That’s not important. What is important is that you understand you’re here strictly as transport; you will not—repeat not—get involved in whatever happens once we reach the system. You will sit tight until we’re ready to go, observe everything that happens, and stay out of it. For the observing part, we’ll be sending over a boat containing a high-power telescope/recorder when we reach 9862. The sitting-tight part is your responsibility.”
Roman locked eyes with him. “And if there turn out to be vultures in the system?”
he asked bluntly.
“If you feel you’re in immediate danger,” Lekander said stolidly, “you’re authorized to Jump to the 66802 system—about two light-years away—and wait for us to rendezvous with you on Mitsuushi. Otherwise, we should have no problem clearing the vultures off you before we leave.”
Roman nodded, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “That assumes,” he said quietly, “that you will be leaving.”
Lekander’s face cracked, just slightly, into a tight smile. “Don’t worry,” he said.
“We’ll be leaving, all right.” He paused. “But the boat I’ll be sending you will also have an AA-26 midrange sub-nuke torpedo aboard. Just in case.”
Sleipnir Jumped, the task force disengaged from their tether lines and headed off, and Amity’s crew set about unpacking Lekander’s telescope/recorder from the boat Atlantis had sent across.
They also unpacked the sub-nuke torpedo and mounted it and its launcher to the outer hull. Just in case.
And when that was done, and the telescope was tracking the departing fusion tracks, there was nothing to do but wait. For hours and hours…
“They certainly seem to know where they’re going,” Kennedy said, leaning back in the helm chair and watching the task force’s progress. “There’s nothing of a search pattern about their course—they’re just heading straight across into the asteroids.”
“Must have a beacon on the missing ship,” Marlowe agreed, studying his own displays. “Damned if I can pick up the signal, though.”
“Probably a split-wave,” Kennedy told him. “Or something equally private. I’d guess they’re doing a minimum-time course, Captain; as soon as they make turnover we’ll be able to figure their endpoint.”
“Can’t we do that now?” Ferrol asked. “We should at least be able to track along their projected path.”
“I’m already doing that,” Marlowe said. “So far, I haven’t found anything that could be a ship.”
For a moment the bridge was silent. Roman thought about how the shark had tried to tear Amity apart… “They could be behind an asteroid,” he reminded them. “Let’s not assume the worst until—”
“Movement!” Marlowe snapped. “Portside of the task force, maybe four hundred kilometers away.”
“They see it,” Kennedy added. “They’re altering course—blasting lateral to swing around toward it. Breaking formation… they’re going for it.”
“Give me some more power on this scope, Marlowe,” Roman ordered, straining to make out the form that was now definitely picking up speed toward the circling task force. “I can’t tell if that’s a shark or a space horse.”
“One second, Captain—these damned controls are twitchy.” The view shimmered, gave an eye-wrenching jerk, steadied and enlarged—
“Holy mother,” someone murmured.
Roman found his voice. “What’s the scale on that?”
“Measures out to almost twenty-six hundred meters,” Marlowe said grimly. “About thirty percent longer than the one we fought, with just over twice its volume.”
And if telekinetic strength indeed scaled with volume… Roman clamped down hard on the almost overpowering urge to send out a comm laser warning. A waste of time, or worse: Lekander would certainly know what his force was up against, and the last thing he needed was extra distractions. “Any sign of vultures?” he asked instead.
“Not that I can see,” Marlowe said. “Definitely no optical nets, anyway, at least not so far. Must recognize that they’re not space horses.”
“Or else the lack of telekinetic abilities leaves the vultures nothing to lock onto,”
Roman nodded. “Either way—”
“Got laser fire,” Marlowe cut in. “All three ships.”
Roman peered at the scope screen. The pale lines of ionized gas were just barely visible as they tracked along the shark’s surface. “Any idea what power they’re using?”
“Hard to say at this distance,” Marlowe said. “Though if they’re standard combat lasers—yowp; there goes the shark.”
The huge predator swerved violently as one of the beams raked up toward its forward end. The laser corrected; but even as it found its target again, a cloud seemed to detach itself from the shark’s body and flow forward. “There go the vultures,” Ferrol muttered under his breath.
“The lasers must have hit a sensory ring,” Kennedy said. “—Firing again.”
Again, the pale lines lanced out… but this time they stopped far short of their intended target, disappearing into the cloud that had coalesced in their path. “Is that the vultures doing that?” Roman asked Marlowe.
“Affirmative,” the other nodded. “Looks like they’ve got a screen of rocks set up, a sort of heavy-duty optical net. Though against military lasers—there; got a punchthrough.”
One of the pale lines had pierced the barrier, and once again the shark twitched away from its touch. But almost instantly the beam was cut off again. “They got the hole filled in,” Marlowe reported grimly. “Those sharks learn fast, don’t they?”
“It can’t keep that up forever, though,” Ferrol shook his head. “Eventually it’s got to run out of vultures.”
“Yeah, but maybe not before the ships get within grabbing range,” Marlowe pointed out. “If enough of that barrier is rock and not vulture, they may be able to hold it together long enough.”
A tiny flare sparked at the Jnana’s hull—“Missile away,” Kennedy identified it.
“Heading for the vultures. Make that two,” she amended as a second flicker appeared beside the Starseeker.
Roman frowned as the two flares swung into alignment, the second crowding the tail of the first. The lead missile reached the laser barrier—
“Missile breaking up,” Marlowe announced. “Must be a net missile; yes, there’s a glint from the filaments. Spreading around the vultures—damn.”