Indomitable, p.3
Indomitable, page 3
Stripping off the armor pieces and dropping them to the floor in frustration, Tuya snarled and slammed a fist against the wall. It left a faint dent. Rescuing her brother from the holding cells was looking more difficult than ever. She knew she’d have to find another way rather than the direct assault she had planned. She leaned back against the cool bulkhead and slid down to sit with arms wrapped around her knees.
Tuya had felt the railguns firing several days after parting from her crew and the survivors of the Telemachus. Overheard conversation had reassured her that the freighter managed to get away, but when she felt the shudder of the heavy weapons firing later on it had sparked fears that the chase was over and her friends had been blown into atoms. She’d tried to get more information, but the displays on the ship were locked down and only worked after an ocular scan to verify which systems a person had access to. Leaving behind a cracked screen, she hadn’t tried another and was left hoping that her friends still lived.
Running away from Erik and the others had been a difficult decision. At the same time, she had known there was no way she could leave her brother behind on the Syndicate warship after finding out he was still alive. In the emotions of the moment, it had seemed a simple thing to rush through the ship to rip open the cell door and be able to see and touch Altan again.
In the ensuing weeks, she’d found herself missing the presence of her captain and crewmates, a family that she’d never expected to have when she started traveling the stars. There had been times she found herself wanting to talk things out with Frost, to get his opinions on what she was doing and see if there was a better way.
Her eyes drooped as she indulged in the memories of her old life aboard the Vagabond. A small part of her still held out hope that she would one day be part of the crew again, but a larger part knew that she was more likely to die on the Syndicate cruiser trying to rescue her brother. It was a price she was willing to pay for the chance to see him once more.
Four
Wiping sweat-soaked strands of hair from her face, Nat resolved for the thousandth time to grow her hair out long enough to be tied back while working. She knew it wouldn’t be bothering her so much if she’d had time over the last three weeks to get her curly locks cut, but the frenzied pace of the upgrades and retrofitting had left her with little time outside of work. She returned to her cabin each night so exhausted that she fell into sleep without even stripping off the dirty jumpsuit. The next morning she woke feeling just as tired and had time to change and grab a quick meal before crawling into the next section of service tunnels to continue rewiring and replacing.
There were mutters of discontent from her fellow engineering crew in the last few days, complaints that even with the extra hands sent over from the orbital station they were being overworked and pushed too hard to meet a deadline that was impossible to hit. She shared the sentiment, but also felt a pride in her ability to do the work. Nat felt confident that if they fell short it wouldn’t be because her contribution wasn’t up to snuff. Spending fourteen and fifteen hours a day crawling through the tight tunnels was taking a toll on her body, but she refused to let up until the work was complete.
They had received little new information since the captain’s announcement to the ship. The rest of the Coalition’s fleet of frigates had arrived to join the Waterloo in orbit, the last of them arriving only a few days before from a patrol around Mars. Always eager to keep pace with their rivals, the Coalition had eight frigates in operation. Along with the Waterloo, another was also in the process of modernization after more than two decades of service. Even the newest of the frigates had almost a decade of continuous service and was inferior to the more modern Syndicate ships.
The few times they’d been in the cabin at the same time over the last several weeks, Janet had shared news that the naval academy was graduating the latest class of cadets early to get them loaded into frigates to pad the crews. There was also talk of adding fighters to the frigates, shoving two or three into each ship’s tightly packed cargo bays. Nat was too exhausted to debate the wisdom of such moves, but couldn’t help feeling it was not enough to counter the overwhelming force of the Syndicate cruiser even if it was only partially equipped.
Nat traded messages with her mother and sister a few times over the weeks, letting them know that she was okay. She kept trying to talk Dex into leaving the Guild office on Aldrin dome before the threat of the cruiser was too close. Her sister always told her there was too much work yet to be done, and talked about some kind of scientific work she was coordinating with labs on Deimos and in Munich. Conversely, both her mother and sister kept trying to talk Nat into requesting a transfer to a safer posting on Earth or the Coalition orbital station, even after she explained that any such transfer would be denied.
On the planet below, she knew there was rioting and growing dissent as factions within the two superpowers fought to push for reconciliation before it was too late. Some groups even denied the existence of the heavy cruiser, or claimed that the destruction of Interamnia was a propaganda event that had never happened. Nat had even heard the opinion expressed in the galley one morning, by a pampered ensign who’d been posted to the ship when it was a plum assignment seen as a stepping stone to a political career enhanced by a shining record of military service. Now that the threat of real war loomed, the woman had been speaking with trembling fear in her voice and sounded as if she were trying to reassure herself more than convince others.
Nat twisted the last pair of wires together, sliding them into the back of a new panel and clamping them in place to ensure a tight connection. A glance at her diagnostic kit showed that it was several hours past the end of her normal shift, and she groaned as she lay back in the sweltering tunnel to try and relax a cramp that had formed in her shoulders from holding her head at an awkward angle for so many weeks. The list of work for the day was finally complete, and she could crawl to the nearest service hatch to exit into the cooler, fresher air of a main corridor. With twice the number of people crawling through the tunnels, the increased body heat had overwhelmed the tight spaces.
She stumbled through the corridor as she returned to Engineering to drop off her tools and diagnostic kit. Half-hearted waves were shared with others ending or beginning shifts as she wordlessly left to return to her cabin where she would try to get enough sleep to feel a bit more rested the next morning. For the first week, she’d suffered nightmares of being caught in the service tunnels during an attack, but after that the exhaustion had overwhelmed her so much that she either no longer dreamed or could never remember them upon waking.
The door of the cabin swished open as she waved her hand in front of the sensor, and she kicked her boots off to lay wherever they landed. Janet was also working long shifts on the bridge, often pulling double duty to cover for people temporarily shifted to help out in other areas. Their shared space had grown more cluttered after several weeks of not having time to organize or clean. She flopped into her bunk, zipping it closed around her automatically. Her breathing slowed and she could feel her mind drifting into formless sleep when the cabin door opened and yelling from the corridor startled her awake.
Nat opened her eyes to see Janet standing in the open doorway, turned away to look down the corridor. “Whass goin on?” she slurred sleepily.
“Someone just set off a bomb in New York City. Right down the street from the Western Sector government buildings.”
“What? Who did it?” Nat hurriedly unzipped and got out of her bunk, all thoughts of sleep blown from her mind as she rushed over to look out into the corridor.
“Let’s go down to the rec room,” Janet said. “They’ll know more there.”
The women joined a throng of other off-duty crew on the way to the recreational area, a room large enough to hold a gym, tables set up for gaming or meeting with groups to chat, and a lounge area with screens always displaying various entertainment programs. At the moment, all three of the screens were tuned to different news reports from the planet below.
Reporters stood in front of scenes of destruction, sirens wailing behind them. Rubble covered city streets, and medical personnel moved quickly through the background to get where they were most needed. An assault shuttle arrived behind one reporter, the air jets slowing its descent and sending lighter debris flying. Two squads of heavily armed soldiers disembarked, and split off to form barricades that would keep civilians away from the disaster zone.
“Our latest information is that over seven thousand dead and another fifteen thousand wounded,” the reporter on the closest screen was saying. “An incendiary device was set off in the middle of the morning commute. There were large numbers of people on the sidewalks and streets at the time. Many more people were working in the buildings nearby most damaged in the blast. The Coalition governor for the Western Sector was in the building at the time of the explosion, but we’re told he was immediately evacuated to a secure location far from the city shortly after.”
“Dios mio,” Nat whispered, holding a hand over her mouth as she watched the report. Janet had sunk down into a nearby chair, her face going pale. Nat turned to her. “Are you okay?”
“My parents live in New York,” she said, looking at the tablet clenched tightly in one hand. “Only a few blocks from the government buildings. I sent them a message as soon as I heard the news, but I haven’t gotten a response yet.”
Kneeling down, Nat grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “The communications systems will be overloaded. I’m sure they’re fine. They’ll contact you when they can.”
They held each other as they continued to watch the news reports, mostly rehashing the details of the attack and casualties over and over. There was speculation from the pundits and experts that the attack had to be an escalation by the Syndicate, a kind of government-sponsored terrorism. No proof had yet been found and no one had claimed credit. After a few hours, Nat felt her exhaustion once again and was barely able to keep her eyes open. She crawled into one of the comfortable cushioned chairs and curled up to fall asleep with the words of the reporters and her fellow crew members flowing over her.
“Nat.” Someone was calling her name and shaking her gently. She reached out an arm to push them away so she could go back to sleep, but the shaking got more insistent. “Nat, you’re going to miss your shift if you don’t get moving.”
Opening eyes that felt gummy, she saw Janet standing over her. The woman’s face was still pale and the bags under her eyes were greatly exaggerated as a result.
“You look almost as tired as I feel,” Nat said.
“I’ve been afraid to go to sleep, thinking I might miss my parents calling me.” Janet rubbed a tear from her eye, and turned away. “I still can’t get them, and they won’t release a casualty list from the attack until the investigation is complete.”
“I’m sorry, Janet. I should have stayed up with you.” Nat rubbed at her eyes, jaws cracking as she yawned widely. “Have there been any updates on who attacked us?”
“Nothing but more speculation. The prime minister is supposed to give a speech in a few hours, so maybe we’ll learn something then.”
“Well, you’ll learn something. I’ll be stuck in yet another service tunnel with no access to the ship’s network.”
“Take breaks!” Janet told her firmly. “You never do, but you’re allowed to take time to recharge so you can tackle your work with a clearer mind. Crawl out and check in when you’re able.”
Nat sighed. “You’re right, if today isn’t the day for that then I don’t know when it will be. Let me know if you manage to get in touch with your parents.”
Leaving Janet to return her attention to the rotating reporters and news desk anchors, Nat trailed through the corridors stopping to grab her tablet from their cabin before heading to the galley for a coffee to drink on the way to Engineering. She found the room buzzing with small groups of people talking about the latest attack, but avoided them to grab her tools and diagnostic kit and check her work schedule.
She stopped outside the first service hatch to power up her tablet. There were messages from her parents asking if she knew anything that wasn’t on the news, but a conspicuous silence from her sister. She sent off a quick reply to her parents that she knew nothing more than what was shown on the networks, and then a message to her sister asking if everything was okay on Luna. Impatience kept her waiting, staring at the tablet screen until a reply came back that Dex was okay, just very busy with her work. Targeted by the same threatened attack on Aldrin dome, the Transport Guild had thrown in with the Coalition and dedicated their ships to transporting goods and fleet personnel wherever they were needed.
Slipping the tablet into a wide pocket on her thigh, Nat pulled the service hatch open and crawled through to begin another long shift of tight workspaces and finicky wiring.
Five
Lieutenant Roger Davis stood at attention in front of the narrow desk, his eyes locked on the bare wall above the superior officer’s head. His hands were rigid at his side, and his mind wandered as the tirade he had tuned out of minutes earlier continued. It had been almost a month since the Vagabond and her crew made their daring escape from the Syndicate cruiser, and he still felt conflicted about the situation. As a long serving officer of the Syndicate Navy, and especially as a member of an elite squad trusted with the highest priority jobs, he knew he should feel bitter disappointment that the freighter crew had managed to kill or wound more than a dozen Marines in the process of making their escape. He did feel a large amount of disgust that the old Telemachus crew managed to assist and join the escape, and a larger amount for the Marine captain who was warned of the plan by one of that crew and then managed to botch the operation to capture both crews.
On the other hand, he’d spent most of a week aboard the Vagabond and gotten to know Erik Frost and his crew to a certain extent. He had liked all of them, even the cargo specialist he’d been required to take into custody and question after the ship was locked down to prevent the crucial cargo pod from being offloaded. It had pained him to have to be part of that interrogation, but he had taken personal responsibility for the four crew members to guarantee they would not be executed right away. He had sympathized with their desire to be free, and knew how much it hurt them to face the loss of their ship. But he also knew how important it had been to keep the secrecy of their ship and mission intact.
Which led to his being called to this office almost every day since the escape to be berated.
“…tried to tell the Admiral that he was making a mistake putting so much faith in you, Davis, but that man has a soft spot a mile wide where you’re concerned. If it were up to me, I’d have you stripped of all rank and tossed into a cell right beside that Sansar fellow! Give me one more reason to do it, and I won’t even stop to ask the admiral for his opinion.”
Commander Guildersen finally trailed off as the quarter-hour rant came to a close. The heavyset older man looked as if the experience hurt him more than the recipient of his vitriol, with his round face scarlet and sweat dripping down from his sparse hairline. The collar of his uniform was tight around his neck at the best of times, but after the exertion of yelling at Davis it seemed to be cutting into his skin.
“Yes, Commander,” Davis replied, glad that the session was nearing an end.
Guildersen stared at him for half a minute, breathing heavily and getting his temper under control. “The admiral and I are in agreement on one thing, Lieutenant. Now that the system knows of the Indomitable, your team is going to be called into action much sooner than expected. Our frigates are on the way with more personnel and supplies, and we should rendezvous with the first of them in three or four weeks. That will be an excellent time to test your skills, yes?”
Davis waited a moment to be sure that his input was really requested. “Yes, Commander. My team is ready and I welcome the opportunity to show their skills.”
“Yes, well, we shall see what happens when the time comes. You’ll have clearance for two training sessions on the hull each of the next three weeks, four hours per session with no one else outside the ship, as you requested. Make them count, lieutenant, because I assure you that no one but me will be happy if you fail.” With a wolfish smile, the commander waved a dismissal.
Snapping a salute, Davis turned and exited the cabin. He relaxed his stance as soon as the doors closed behind him, and turned to walk to his team’s training area. With a low chuckle, he remembered how he had presented himself as a computer specialist to the crew of the Vagabond. But then the smile faded from his face as he remembered the insertion pod that was still aboard the freighter when they escaped. The pods were extremely expensive hardware, only manufactured in one small factory deep in Syndicate territory on Earth, and as a result there had been one for each member of his team aboard the Indomitable. Now they were a pod short, and he would have to make the decision of who to leave out if a mission required using them.
Entering one of the vast cargo bays that had been set aside for his use, he found the other nine members of his elite assault and insertion team suited up and waiting. The armor they used was matte black, a single-piece suit that had light armor plating sewn into the ballistic fabric along with tubing to pump water that kept the wearer hot or cool depending on the mission parameters. Each assault suit had a suite of electronics onboard that controlled a heads-up display inside the full helmet along with a communications and sensor system that allowed the members of the team to detect threats and talk with each other on a band unused by any other devices.
