"Where did you go?" Hummingbird began composing a more detailed search. At the same time he kicked the one image to the Cornuelle's main comp for identification. Then he waited, pondering the grainy, low-def image on his v-pane. The ident came back moments later and Hummingbird nodded, unsurprised, at the identification.
"A Valkyrie," he read from main comp's concise, clipped summary. "Mining shuttle, one hundred fifty tons displacement, four engines, sub-light capable. Usually paired with a Tyr-class mobile refinery." A schematic of the spacecraft was attached — a huge assemblage of ore tanks, drives and shuttle bays. Hummingbird was not familiar with the class of ship — he rarely devoted his attention to navy matters — but the manufacturer was well known to him from certain other business. His lip curled. "Ship design and construction by Norsktrad Heavy Industries, Kiruna system. A Swedish ship…"
The destruction of the ancient Kingdom of Swedish-Russia on Anбhuac in the previous century had not prevented tens of thousands of Swedes and Russians from leaving the homeworld for the colonies. Indeed, strict Imperial control of their home provinces had probably precipitated the exodus into the outer worlds. Entire companies — some once no more than Swedish governmental departments — had moved offworld as well. Two cold, desolate worlds — yet still habitable — orbiting Kiruna Prime were the center of a thriving manufacturing and shipbuilding industry.
No one, particularly not the Voice of the Mirror, could say the Kirunan companies engaged in treacherous acts. Such an event would have precipitated the destruction of both the colonies and their orbital habitats. Despite this — despite a scrupulous and timely payment of taxes and every outward sign of loyal service to the Empire — far too many Kirunan-built spacecraft found their way into the hands of pirates, rogue miners, Communards, and insurrectionists of all kinds.
"Hummingbird to the Cornuelle," he said, tapping open his comm. "I need to speak with Chu-sa Hadeishi immediately."
The Cornuelle
Finally.
Hadeishi nodded sharply to Hummingbird's image and closed the channel. He swung his command chair to the threat-well at the center of the bridge, a speculative expression on his face. "Sho-sa Kosho, ship to alert status one. All hands to stations."
Immediately, even as the captain's words faded from the air, the exec's slim finger stabbed a double-size glyph on her control panel. A sharp hooting sound rang out through every pressurized space on the light cruiser and every comm flashed an attention signal. Kosho was unable to keep a fierce smile from her face, though the cultured, exact voice issuing from the comm was perfectly devoid of emotion. "All hands to battle stations. All hands to battle stations. Ship will lock down in one hundred eighty seconds. Gravity will be zero in one hundred seconds. All hands…"
Hadeishi felt suddenly awake, his vision clear, hearing acute, his hands filled with an immediate quick energy. His combat display had already split — keyed by the alert — into four sections, one showing the status of his ship, another the immediate space around the Cornuelle, another with a summary of all known threats — empty for the moment — and the fourth filled with palm-sized v-feeds from the various divisions. Everything was entirely familiar, save for Engineering, where a suddenly sweaty and perturbed-looking Sho-i Ko-hosei Yoyontzin had started in horror at the sound of the alarm horns.
"Mister Hayes," Hadeishi snapped, feeling a cold, invincible calm settle over him. "Status?"
"No threats," the weapons officer replied, his broad face showing no emotion at all. "Palenque orbit is stable, engines cold. One shuttle docked, the other groundside at base one. Recon drones and survey satellites show no motion, no hostiles. Passive scan is quiet. Shall I go active?"
"No, Hayes-tzin, not at this time. Sho-sa Kosho?"
The exec tucked a curling trail of raven-dark hair behind one ear. She was leaning on her panel, one hand knuckled against the glassite, an antique gold stopwatch in her free hand. She was counting silently. After the briefest moment, she raised her eyes to the captain and said "fifty-eight" while clicking the stopwatch. Hadeishi waited while the lieutenant tapped open the all-hands ship channel. "Ship in lockdown," she announced, and the captain felt a distant rumble through his chair as the hab rings spun to a stop and locked in place, then a hissing clang as the main bridge pressure hatches sealed. At the same moment, his shipsuit stiffened and a warning tone sounded beside his ear.
"Gravity zero," Kosho announced, securing the watch and taking hold of the edge of her display. "Engines hot."
"All systems tracking," Hayes announced at almost the same moment. "Beam nacelles are live, missile racks one through nine are cleared to load. Shall I load out?"
"Rack with flash loads by evens," Hadeishi replied in a crisp voice. "Timing, Mister Hayes, I want timing." He turned slightly to look at his exec again. "Time, Sho-sa?"
Kosho came to attention, though no one save a shipmate could have told the difference from one moment to the next. "All hands to station in ninety-six seconds, Chu-sa. Engines hot, systems secured in one hundred fifty seconds."
Hadeishi's chair vibrated again and he knew the missile racks were loading, magazine carrels rotating into place, the slender shapes of Hayai Roku sliding into their launch tubes.
"Admirable," the captain replied, looking to the communications station. "Emissions status, Mister Smith?"
"T-relay offline," the midshipman replied, cheeks flushed, the beat of his heart thudding in the artery at his neck. "Main array in passive. Comm array on the Palenque forced down, ship to ground forced down, emissions are at minimum. Shipskin neutral."
"Hayes-tzin? Backscatter from civilian sources? Visual confirmation?"
The weapons officer suppressed a start — he'd expected to report the even-numbered missile racks loaded and their launch status green — hands moving in a blur across his panel. Hadeishi watched keenly — the request to double-check the light cruiser's emissions status from local civilian sources was unexpected, though they were rarely in position to take direct control of civilian sensor apparatus — and counted the seconds until the Thai-i responded. Out of the corner of his eye, the captain watched Kosho counting as well, ancient watch magically back in her hand.
"Civilian sensors are blank," Hayes said, his voice a fraction rushed. "Visual confirm is…is positive. I have outline from Palenque navigational cam." A finger speared sideways and a new v-pane unfolded on Hadeishi's display. With interest, the captain examined the image. "Backscatter from satellites is null, backscatter from Palenque main array is…null."
"Interesting." Hadeishi folded his hands in his lap. The civilian ship mounted an entire array of exterior cameras to assist in docking at a station or other orbital facility. Apparently they also included moderately sophisticated pattern-matching soft, which had picked the outline of the Cornuelle — even at one hundred kilometers — out of the background starfield. The Palenque comp could not make a match for ship type or registry, but it knew something was within its programmed avoidance limits. "Maintain feed from the civilian ship, Hayes-tzin. Sho-sa Kosho, please adjust ship orientation by degrees."