Sister Ships and Alastair - Chapter 9

9. Bandit Country

High above, Cleo was being led under heavy guard down a long gangway lined with cables and junction boxes. The faces of the crewmen in the corridor were nervous - the men escorting Cleo were moving hand-over-hand down a series of grips in the walls, maintaining a constant grip in case Lieutenant Farthing changed the ship's direction without warning. The lights recessed into the walls were burning a dull red, and flickering. In the middle of a knot of crewmen, next to a huge steel door like a gigantic camera iris, stood Mr. Drague, who was not holding on to anything.
"You appear to have a problem", said Cleo.
"Ah, Miss Shakespeare. I must admit, I am relieved to weigh something again. Your terrorist confederate seems to have failed to blow up the Earth. The bomb she planted in Weaponisation failed to detonate. She has, however, managed to get on board this vessel, and I'm very much afraid she has somehow taken over our control room." His gaze moved sternly over a number of crewmen wearing officers' pips, who studiously looked in turn at anything other than Mr. Drague. "She is demanding to talk to you. She is also threatening to crash this vessel into a nearby sun if she is not allowed to."
"Lieutenant Farthing?" said Cleo. "Took over your control room?" A disbelieving grin spread over her face. "A woman who only weighs half what most of your crewmen weigh, who was born on a low gravity planet, who couldn't bench press a particularly heavy feather?"
"Lieutenant Farthing also seems to be a mistress of low cunning", grumbled Drague. "I believe there was a minor fire in a gangway leading off the bridge, and of course all hands scampered off the bridge to extinguish it, falling over each other in their enthusiasm to leave their posts. Five seconds later, there was a radiation alert on the bridge itself, causing anti-radiation doors to lock down around it in accordance with what I am informed is standard procedure. It appears the minor fire had been set by Lieutenant Farthing in order to allow her to sneak into the bridge via the other entrance, then to somehow trigger the radiation alarm and cause the safety doors to slam shut. Using welding gear she had managed to bring with her onto the bridge without arousing comment", continued Drague, again fixing the squirming bridge crew with a baleful emerald glare, "she then sealed shut all the doors apart from", Drague turned around and rapped on the metal behind him, "this one, which she claims to have booby trapped. I have to conclude that I really do wish Lieutenant Farthing were on my side."
"Maybe you're on the wrong side", said Cleo.
"I am on the side of the law", said Drague.
"Is that the side that sends men, women and children to die in pitchblende mines?" said Cleo. "I'm confused. That is what's going on on Alpha Four, isn't it? All the prisoners you took when you recaptured the planet, and their wives and families?"
"That's a Colonial Security matter", said Drague.
"That's right", nodded Cleo. "It's someone else's department, so it's not your problem. You can look the other way. You're Special Operations, after all, not, not Colonial Security, so you don't have to worry about what Colonial Security do with all those people you arrest and turn over to them..."
"I must admit", said Drague irritably, "that that is something you will shortly have a far better idea of than I do. But please remember that this is war. Your Lieutenant Farthing recently attempted to blow up a nuclear weapons stockpile in the middle of a major population area."
"If Lieutenant Farthing had intended to blow up Bedford, bits of Bedford would be raining on Northampton by now", said Cleo, "because Lieutenant Farthing gets things right. Haven't you figured it out yet? The bomb was a fake, a trick to make the Captain of this ship panic and take off. That isolated you from the base below, and put the ship in flight, in space, where anyone in charge of the bridge systems could threaten to pop open an airlock and kill everyone on board, or just make the ship hyperspatial and put her on a course for US Zed territory. Penelope won't be heading for Gondolin, of course. She's not that stupid."
"I'm not that stupid either", said Mr. Drague. "All airlocks, ventilators, heaters and alarms have already been manually overridden. We are also working on shutting down the C Plus system, but the engineers tell me a shutdown while we're in hyperspace could result in the ship catastrophically ending up inside itself -"
"Absolutely, Mr. Drague", nodded an engineer eagerly.
"What is the C Plus system?" said Cleo.
"The Warp Engine. The Faster-Than-Light Widget. The Hyperdrive. The thing that allows this ship to travel to the nearest star in five hours rather than five thousand years. I'm afraid we have no choice but to wait until your Lieutenant chooses to pop back into normal space before we can do any work to stop her from going hyperspatial again. We have to wait until she gets to where she's going. And I'm afraid that where she's going is into Soviet space."
This threw Cleo off balance. "Soviet space?"
"Yes. The nearest US Zed colony is at Groombridge 34, you see; but in order to reach it, it's necessary to cross a pseudopod of Soviet territory. The Russians have a major planetary collective orbiting the star Ross 248, which they call Krasnaya Zvezda. Krasnaya Three, I believe, produces over half the road bitumen, bakelite, and wire insulation for the entire Soviet space empire. They can be expected to defend it."
"Why can't Lieutenant Farthing just keep us in hyperspace till we pop out at, uh, Gloomfridge whatever?" said Cleo.
"Hyperspace maps on to normal space", said Drague. "It won't matter which of the two we're in. The Soviets will have patrol vessels waiting in both. Your Lieutenant is steering us to disaster. You need to talk to her and persuade her that her current course of action will kill us all, and possibly even spark an interstellar war."
Cleo came to a decision.
"All right. Get away from the door."
The crewmen in the gangway hesitated. Half of them tried to look as if they weren't holding rocket carbines.
"I mean it", said Cleo. "Shoo."
"I'm afraid I have to stay", said Drague.
"All right", said Cleo. "But unarmed." Drague spread his hands out wide and empty, assuming an expression of wounded innocence. His men around the door, meanwhile, backed away grudgingly, retiring slowly up the corridor.
Cleo rapped on the metal of the door. "LIEUTENANT FARTHING?"
Drague passed Cleo a microphone on the end of a coil of telephone cable. Cleo raised it to her mouth. "Lieutenant Farthing?"
A speaker on the wall answered: "Cleo? Is that you?"
"Yes. I'm here with Mr. Drague, the Special Ops man."
"Drague???" Farthing's voice was tinged with dread. "Whatever he says, don't believe it. Erm. And don't believe the opposite of it either."
Drague smiled in quiet satisfaction. Cleo ignored him and continued. "He says we're headed for Soviet territory."
Lieutenant Farthing's voice sounded tired and desperate. "There are only two Beria-class cruisers on patrol at Krasnaya. We can outrun them."
"The Beria class outranges and outpaces the Revere in every department", said Drague, shaking his head. "They are capable of eight gravities of acceleration to our seven, and our intelligence suggests they have a highly sophisticated neutral particle accelerator weapons system against which Black Prince might have no defence."
"If mights and mays were cosmic rays we'd all need lead lined trousers", countered Farthing.
"Very well", said Drague. "I am sorry it comes to this, but - Captain Pulsipher, can you come in here and kill this child, please?"
Cleo coloured. "CHILD?"
"I do apologize. Young adult", replied Drague.
Lieutenant Farthing lost control. "You harm a hair on her head and I'll use the C Plus system to make all this ship's coordinates zero-dimensional. It will cease to exist. And after it ceases to exist, I'll put all the onboard toilet systems in reverse, turn up the heat, and switch off the air conditioning -"
The ship's Captain, Pulsipher, an iron-grey-haired man in his forties, walked forward to the bridge door. He saluted Drague.
"I'm afraid I can't shoot an unarmed person, sir."
"I understand fully", said Drague. "Your gyrolite, please, Captain."
Without question, Pulsipher unbuckled his rocket pistol and handed it to Drague.
"Thank you, Captain", said Drague, cocked the pistol, turned it back on the captain and shot him.
The shot echoed round the ship like a distant sun exploding. Crewmen stood watching dumbfounded as Pulsipher held his midriff in apparent disbelief. Blood seeped between his fingers; he collapsed to the deck. Cleo looked on in horror.
Drague examined his handiwork dispassionately and nodded to the crewmen further back up the gangway. "You have my permission to take him to sickbay. Who knows? He may even survive. I believe I have just illustrated that I am prepared to shoot an unarmed person. Now, Lieutenant - I am giving you ten seconds to open this door safely."
"What did he just do, Cleo?" said the wall speaker nervously.
"Just - just shot the Captain of this ship", said Cleo as the crewmen scurried forward and bore Pulsipher away, leaving a snail-trail of blood. "For no reason at all, apart from refusing to shoot me."
Mutiny was in the eyes of the crew bearing the Captain away.
"Ten", said Drague.
"I must warn you, my mission is more important than the lives of my mission crew -"
"Nine."
"- I have our field operating procedures to consider, which clearly state that the objective of a live mission takes priority -"
"Eight."
"- We all accept that we are expendable when we take on a mission -"
"Seven."
"- it is against regulations to surrender due to a threat of death or torture against a captured comrade -"
"Six."
"- and it is against the Geneva Convention -"
"Five."
"- and the laws of the United Kingdom -"
"Four."
"- I'm warning you, I'll be taking out a whole ship, you'll only be taking down a child -"
"Three."
"- the mathematics of the situation don't add up -"
"Two."
" - you'll be COURT MARTIALLED -"
"One."
"- ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I'M OPENING THE DOOR NOW, DON'T SHOOT, DON'T SHOOT -"
Gas began hissing from pressure valves round the door. The metal blades of the iris began relaxing in their aperture.
Cleo was furious. "PENELOPE!"
Visible through the expanding hole in the door, Lieutenant Farthing was shamefaced. "I know. I'm sorry, Cleo."
"CAN'T YOU COUNT TO TEN?? HE WASN'T GOING TO SHOOT ME!! HE SHOULD HAVE SHOT ME ON ONE!!!"
Crewmen swarmed into the bridge, rapidly surrounding Lieutenant Farthing with more guns than was strictly necessary, making up for their earlier inattention as best they could.
"Take us out of hyperspace, Mr. Godrevy", croaked the Captain, walking past Cleo onto the bridge, blood still seeping through a bandage being wrapped round his midriff by a medical orderly. "There's no-one at the helm." Beyond the half-open radiation shield, the bridge windows showed hyperspace, a smaller, hotter, more crowded universe than Earth's, filled with tumbling lumps of white-hot rock. "That chunk over there looks the size of Essex and twice as ugly, if that's possible, and it looks like we're on a collision course with it."
Cleo gasped in shock.
"You're not dead", she said.
"Thank you for the information", said Pulsipher, winking. "I'll be sure to bear it in mind."
"Oh no", said Lieutenant Farthing, looking at Cleo in disbelief. "Please tell me you didn't fall for that."
"Fall for what?" said Cleo.
"A rocket bullet doesn't shoot out of the barrel at the speed of sound like an ordinary bullet", said Pulsipher. "It's kicked up to speed by a very small rocket in its base. That rocket is burning the whole time the bullet is in flight to its target, so the bullet accelerates gradually. If it's fired off at point blank range, it's barely doing a hundred miles an hour when it hits you." He smiled weakly. "Barely breaks the skin." He winced as a fresh patch of blood began spreading under his bandages, and two crewmen on either side of him closed in to support him.
"Thank you for your assistance, Captain", said Drague. "Without it I might never have been able to convince the Lieutenant I was serious. There'll be a commendation in this for you. Possibly even a promotion."
Pulsipher nodded wearily in a way that suggested promotion was far from his mind right now. A crewman pulled the C+ lever, and there was the claustrophobic feeling of a jolt back into normal space.
"Great", muttered another crewman. "Now we're stuck in bandit country."
"What?" said Cleo. "Can't we just turn the ship around and go back home?"
"Not for another forty-eight hours", said Lieutenant Farthing. "It's all right", she added, in that special way people had that actually meant it is not all right in any way whatever. "You didn't know."
"A regrettable design feature of saucer drive", said Drague. "It puts a great strain on the Forellen Turbine every time the ship goes into hyperspace."
"The Forellen Turbine?" said Cleo.
"The part of the drive that allows hyperspace transition", said Penelope. "It's directly connected to the Spatchcock Flange", she added helpfully.
"Hyperspace transition can cause the turbine to expand by up to a millimetre in size", said Alastair. "It has to be given time to shrink back before the ship can go back into hyperspace again. Interstellar military tactics often depend heavily on how long ago a vessel shifted to hyperspace, and how quick the recovery time of its turbine is..."
In the middle of the confusion, a small voice was speaking out of one of the bridge consoles. It was speaking in Russian. It was barely audible over flurries of static.
"Сигнал Бедствия... Сигнал Бедствия ...Это Колхоз Красная Звезда... "
"Peculiar", said Callaway. "Ross 248's a very well-behaved star in the kilohertz band, and Krasnaya Three has no magnetic field. We shouldn't be getting this much noise -"
"Turn that off, Petty Officer", said Drague.
"Belay that order", said Pulsipher suddenly, struggling upright. Cleo was amazed he was still conscious. "It's a distress signal." Releasing himself from his crewmen, he limped forward to the console, plumped himself down in a seat, and turned a dial. The voice rose in volume.
"Мы были атакованы...нам нужна помощь...Hello is Red Star Commune...We are attacked...Need assistance...Mayday..."
"Your duty, Captain", said Drague, "is to return this ship to Earth orbit immediately."
"My duty", said Pulsipher, "by international law, is to respond to distress calls. Mr. Callaway, what is the point of origin of the signal?"
Callaway, a painfully thin, bespectacled Scot, adjusted several dials and announced: "It's Krasnaya Three all right, Cap'n."
"Captain", said Drague, "I need hardly remind you that in my capacity as Special Investigator, you have a responsibility to comply with any and all of my instructions as if they had come from a member of the Shadow Ministry itself -"
"And I need hardly remind you", said Pulsipher, "that as Captain of this ship, while she is in space, I am in charge of her. At all times." He braced himself against the console, possibly to stop himself from falling forward onto it. "Lieutenant Jenkins - I am probably not going to be conscious for much longer. My final orders as Captain are as follows. I place you in temporary command, and as acting Captain, you are in sole charge of Black Prince and will accept no challenges to your authority. You are to safeguard the ship and return her to earth orbit, after investigating that distress signal with all due caution."
Cleo looked around for Lieutenant Jenkins, who proved to be a lanky, pale and uncomfortable-looking young man who looked significantly younger than Penelope Farthing. Lieutenant Jenkins possessed a large and mobile Adam's apple that quivered unsettlingly in his throat even while he wasn't talking.
"Er - sir?" said Lieutenant Jenkins. "Are you sure that's wise?"
Pulsipher didn't answer. A loud liquid SPLAT sounded from the deck plating underneath him, followed by a more rapid pitter-patter, like gathering rain.
"It's blood", said a crewman quickly, and the medical orderlies leapt forward. As they moved the Captain in his seat, more blood spilled down the sides of his chair from where it had been pooled around him. The Captain seemed no longer to care.
"Well, Acting Captain", said Cleo, "you heard your commanding officer."
Drague inhaled slowly.
"Lieutenant", he said, "please do not tell me you are about to take orders from a captured enemy combatant."
"The Captain's orders were quite clear, Mr. Jenkins, sir", said a shaven-headed NCO, fixing Drague with a faceful of hatred.
Jenkins turned and looked at the other crewmen, finding the same expressions on all of them.
"I-I believe they were", he said falteringly. "B-but we need to make sure of one thing first. How close are we to K-Krasnaya?"
Another crewman spoke up rapidly. "Point five astronomical units from the star, sir."
"Th-that's quite close. I w-would have expected us to have shown up on the screens of those patrol cruisers by now. S-so why haven't they hailed us?"
"Good grief", said Drague in disgust. "It has a stutter too. Are you men going to follow a Lieutenant?"
"Long range radar shows a large contact just to sunward of Krasnaya Three, sir", said another crewman - then, turning and looking directly at Drague, added: "Sorry. Shows a large contact, Captain."
"Contact is relatively cold, Cap'n", said another. "Heat and some ionizing radiation, but not enough to suggest battle debris. I'd say it's an intact ship, bow-on to us, with some systems operational. Neutrino emissions are what you'd expect from a front-line cruiser."
"And if she's f-face on to us", said Jenkins, "sh-she must have seen us. So why doesn't she react? Unless she's f-fired weapons at long range without warning and she's just w-waiting for them to hit..."
"Wouldn't we see that?" said Cleo.
Jenkins shook his head. "P-plasma salvoes travel just under l-lightspeed. If th-they fire off a plasma salvo at us, it'll arrive only about f-five or s-six seconds after the l-light that allows us to s-see it."
Cleo suddenly appreciated why the bridge crew were staring silently at their screens as if they expected the displays to leap out of the console and devour them.
"But you can travel faster than light", said Cleo. "Couldn't you outrun it?"
"Of course", said Jenkins. "If our turbines weren't c-cooling down. At this range, we'd have enough w-warning to go hyperspatial. But the Beria class also has hyperspatial torpedoes. We wouldn't s-see them till they h-hit us."
"Couldn't you close the distance with them by going into hyperspace yourself?"
"C-closer in, we'd put ourselves at greater risk of plasma attack. N-no seconds of warning, you see. And they'd c-certainly interpret such a move as a hostile manoeuvre. B-besides, we c-can't use our C Plus system for f-forty-eight hours in any case."
Cleo was almost screaming with frustration. "But you have to do something!"
Jenkins nodded, colouring. "Erm. Y-yes. Of course. Mr. Godrevy, p-plot and execute a transfer orbit to bring us alongside the cruiser. Mr. Callaway, f-find the Russian ph-phrasebook and transmit a message indicating we are responding to a distress signal. Inform them of our intended course so they d-don't think we're executing an attack."
The Russian voice was still broadcasting from the console speaker.
"The signal is coming from the planet", said Cleo. "Why aren't we going to the planet?"
Acting Captain Jenkins inspected the deck plating in embarrassment. "Er - b-because the c-cruiser presents a threat. We sh-should neutralize it."
"Neutralize it? How?"
"He means", said Mr. Drague, "that the Beria could still attack us. We have to make sure it won't. And if it's somehow been disabled, it would be a good idea to get on board to take a look at its neutral particle accelerator weapons system, eh Lieutenant?"
"And to t-take on any survivors", said Jenkins hurriedly.
"There won't be any survivors", said Cleo.
Every face in the bridge turned to look at her.
"What makes you so sure?" said Jenkins.
"Because this has happened before. The US Zed Ess Xenophon. Found floating in deep space with all her crew missing. All systems undamaged. Meals half-eaten on tables."
"New Dixie", said one of the crewmen fearfully.
"Yeah", echoed another rating. "The same stuff happened on New Dixie."
"The Soviets attacked New Dixie", reproved a petty officer.
"No they didn't", said Cleo with feeling. "I was there."
Even Drague was surprised. "No-one was there", he said gently. "No survivors were ever recovered."
"Not by the Americans", said Cleo. "Ant and I were recovered by the Russians. They didn't attack New Dixie. They responded to a distress signal. Like we should be doing. There's obviously still someone alive down on the planet -"
Drague shook his head. "Now it's my turn to say there's no-one alive."
Cleo jabbed her finger at the radio with rage. "Then who's that speaking?"
"It's a recorded message. Whilst you have been arguing, I have been listening. The same message repeats over and over. I've counted eighteen repetitions now." Drague looked Cleo straight in the eye. "The Xenophon report crossed my desk too. She had all systems undamaged, remember. Including radio."
"So who did attack New Dixie?" said one of the crewmen.
Cleo hung her head. "I don't know. We were out of the main settlement when it happened. There was a report over the radio of an incoming ship shaped like a cigar that didn't show up on radar."
"The Soviets said the same thing", said a crewman.
"Unless she's a Soviet agent", cautioned the petty officer.
"Laying in new course now", said Godrevy from the controls, his voice suddenly echoed in the intercom speakers throughout the ship. "BRACE FOR TUMBLE AND THRUST."
Cleo took hold of the back of a chair. All around the room, crewmen seized grab handles bolted to the walls.
"If we can't get there via hyperspace", said Cleo, "how long is this likely to take? I only have seven days till I run out of fake holiday."
Godrevy looked at the other crew members. He looked at Lieutenant Farthing.
"Uh", he said. "It'll take at least a month."
Cleo was panic-stricken. "Really?"
Godrevy's face was deadly earnest. Then, it winked.
"Nah", he said. "Few hours. This here's a starship, not Pioneer Ten. Go back to your accommodation. Get some sleep."
Farthing looked at the armed men surrounding her in apprehension. "Does our accommodation have spectacular views of the sun-drenched Mediterranean?"
Petty Officer Kay shook his head sadly.