Never got used to notes turning up out of the dark.
Didn’t like unscheduled problems arriving out of it, either.
Three ships. Corinthian, near the Object, all right, and inbound. At distance, about 2 seconds light beyond them on their vector, Silver Dream, and at 1 second’s remove—
Sprite.
Shit. —Shit!
“Michaels!”
“Sir.”
“That’s Sprite. “
“Just saw that. Dropped in front of us. Fifteen hour climb for their missiles. We’re still all right. “
A safe port, seven lights fucking distant? Off into the dark, to some Fleet refuge their navigator kept secret until now? A place no Union or Alliance optics had ever just happened to find, when optics had made a thorough scan of the edges of space?
“Nav. Why not Viking next?”
“Wouldn’t risk it, sir, if that freighter survives. “
“Nerves, nav. Plot Viking, as an in-case.”
“Yes, sir. But if that freighter gets out of here, they’ll report. They got a good position to see where we’re working. Our cargo-site… is blown, less they and Patrick both go to hell. And, sir, the Fleet said when they sent me… there’s a place you could go. I need that little card validated, captain-sir, and I can take you there, safe and sure. But I got to have the card. So does Patrick. “
Give the bastard the card, was the thought in his mind. Second chief’s refuge at seven lights could just as well be a trap. Crew taken. Ship confiscated for military refit. Rumor held it still happened.
And Capella wanted to take them off into the dark, getting them clear of this faction of the Fleet, while the other faction, Capella’s faction, was going to reward them with some damn secret port for protecting a key-card to a hulk that, if they got out of this, a freighter now knew for what it was?
Dammittobloodyhell…
Not a chance, not a damn chance he’d heard all the truth from the second chief yet.
And the Hawkins ship?
Firing was still going on, periodic boom as ordnance left Corinthian.
Corinthian had fired at Silver Dream initially from a high-energy point. Inertial-mass cannon-balls or self-propelled nukes were equally deadly at that v. And they’d sent—were still sending, at intervals—swarms of inerts after that ship. Hindmost had the advantage in that regard.
Their inerts might equally well hit Sprite. The freighter had shed all relative v, and they were close enough to be in danger—he hadn’t seen the fire-path calc’ed, but both Sprite and Silver Dream had dropped late, beyond them.
Silver Dream had likewise dumped hard, then spent time on an instant evasive maneuver, expecting those inerts to be traveling up their backside, no question: the ship was a survivor, to be this old in the game. Two seconds off from their informational wavefront. Patrick knew where they were, no question.
But even powered missiles weren’t an option for Patrick to use, not from a retreating vector at two light-seconds remove—a single light-second or so past its target was worse luck for a starship than a light-hour: Silver Dream’s stardrive couldn’t jump short enough to close the gap, Patrick’s launch platform was negative v relative to his target, and Patrick’s only choice now was a hard realspace run up to meaningful speed, with Corinthian ordnance coming right down his path.
He had to reposition for his run in.
Meanwhile a noisy damn Hawkins freighter was flooding its stupid Sprite-Sprite-Sprite ID out into the EM ambient because Sprite didn’t have a damn cut-off.
And Sprite, carrying a Pell-origin drift?
God, it was surreal. What wasn’t Sprite hauling, that it could have reached Pell and all but over-jumped them coming back toward Viking again, until their collective mass snagged it into system-drop with them? Low-mass cargo for sure.
Marie Hawkins’ hate? Marie Hawkins’ obsession?
He blinked, swallowed another metallic mouthful of liquid and a shudder raced through his gut, maybe the nutrient, maybe the realization of a ship full of fools and a handful of genuine innocents sitting out there noisier than very hell, at a single degree of separation from their position relative to the spook, the spook maneuvering to bear down on them and consequently on Sprite as fast as Patrick could get here, God help the woman, and God help her whole ship.