Overdrive (39 page)

There was now a
plethora of ships in his local space with enough firepower to take out the
Solar system.

Not including
himself, there were 2 PDS stations, 6 frigates and a variety of smaller,
warlike craft under power and heading his way in a hurry. Things weren’t
looking good for Gabriella or himself. He’d hoped Gabriella would be
sufficiently weakened after a skirmish with 2 or 3 frigates that he could swoop
in and take Felix and/or the Overdrive data out of her winsome hands. That was
before everything had turned to custard.

He could move in
now and risk a head on encounter with all and sundry in an open bid to secure
the Overdrive, or he could run back to his father and report that he’d failed,
despite that worthy’s machinations and covert deal makings over the last four
years. Or he could sit on his hands and risk loosing everything. He took option
3 and dithered.

Thankfully, option
3 seemed to be working out.

The Captain,
seated below him on the main bridge floor, turned around, nodding at Asel
significantly and pointing at the tactical display. At the Captain’s command,
the display zoomed in on the station, the icons indicating two small ships
leaving the beleaguered PDS. One small shuttle was heading for Gabriella’s
mammoth Valkyrie now lurking some 10,000 kms away in a higher orbit.

The other craft, a
small armed yacht, was hurrying away, all indicators pointing to the fact that
it was getting itself clear for a jump into nospace.

He paused to
consider, allowing his AI to conduct yet another tactical analysis. The other
PDS and the frigates were in firing range of the crippled station. As
predicted, the PDS was moving to dock with the other station, a protective
shadow over its wounded fellow. The six frigates were heading up into higher
orbit to engage Gabriella.

The information
Asel had given the Gitanian authorities had directly implicated Gabriella in
the attack on the station and Gitanians did not take such attacks lightly.

Gabriella was in a
thorny position. From the looks of things, she was awaiting the arrival of her
shuttle and could not move until that shuttle was on board; if it continued at
its current velocity, it wouldn’t dock with Gabriella for at least another 9
minutes. The Gitanian frigates would be in range in 7.

Unfortunately for
Asel, at least 4 allied merchantman of the Gitanians, all on combat status,
were heading in his general direction. AI analysis indicated that he had a 60
percent chance of success if he engaged them directly.

It was still
somewhat doubtful whether Gabriella had secured the Overdrive. The shuttle
currently on its way to her present position could conceivably contain those
precious contents. On the other hand, the small yacht, now leaving the station
and looking to jump clear into nospace was equally likely to contain the data.
Asel felt sure that if Gabriella even had a hint that the Overdrive data was
within the other shuttle, she would be launching a full out bid to secure it.
That she was not doing so was a telling factor. His male intuition was telling
him the exact opposite however. He felt sure that the key to success lay in the
other ship.

He smiled grimly.
Gauche as it may sound, there was no prize in this race for second place.

He met the
expectant look of the ship’s commander.

“Captain. Bring
the fields up to full strength. Open the doors to the slipmissile batteries and
bring the cannons on-line. Target the nearest ship and disable it."

The Captain looked
at him quizzically.

“The yacht now
leaving the PDS is our eventual goal," Asel said by way of explanation.
“Nothing must stand in our way. Target engines and weapon systems of any ships
that do and disable them."

The Captain nodded
and turned away, doubtless consulting with his crew and the ship through his
AI. Some Captains preferred to have more of a hands on approach but with Asel
on board, this Captain wisely chose to maximize efficiency at the risk of compromising
his human resource management. Asel was comforted by that. He couldn’t risk
loosing now due to some hopelessly inefficient Captain who was incapable of
utilizing the magnificent tool he had be provided with – the ship and its
godlike AI.

Commands given,
Asel’s ship brought its Ion engines on-line, increasing speed rapidly and
powering in towards the incapacitated PDS station and the escaping yacht.
Almost immediately, all four of the approaching merchantman changed
trajectories slightly, compensating for the sudden increase in velocity of
their target, placing themselves more effectively between the attacking ship
and the crippled station. Sensors on board the
Sweet Bejesus
indicated
that the weapons systems on board all 4 ships were suddenly ramped up to firing
status.

Asel ordered the
Captain to take a more indirect approach; one that would hopefully give them
more maneuvering room. His AI, linked to the ship, told him the nearest
merchantman had launched its full complement of slipmissiles at them.

Asel’s ship,
doubtless in consultation with the Captain’s own AI, immediately brought its
slipdrive on-line, disappearing into the gray rift appearing before it, only to
reappear seconds later some five hundred kilometers distant from its last position.

Twenty four
slipmissiles, programmed to search for a ship along fairly basic parameters,
appeared in the predicted location of their quarry, only to find their quarry
gone. In a fit of pique or perhaps with some forlorn hope that they might take
their target out by luck, they detonated, sending a tsunami wave of superheated
plasma 50 kilometers in every direction. The detonation was clearly visible to
all vessels within 100,000 kilometers. Captains of each ship in the vicinity
hastily upgraded their combat status, bringing fields up to maximum strength.

The
Sweet
Bejesus
was already powering away again, this time to a position that kept
the incapacitated PDS station between them and the hostile merchantmen.
Predictably, 2 merchantmen engaged their slipdrives, one emerging a safe 1,000
kms away, the other, presumably with a reckless Captain, an incompetent AI or
both, emerged less than 200 kilometers from the
Sweet Bejesus
.

A 300 kilometer
buffer between a ship and another object was the sacrosanct minimum distance
observed by any Captain worth his or her salt. To engage your slipdrive or
emerge from nospace at a distance anything less would result in a slightly more
severe penalty than a slap on the wrist from local space administration.

Rather than closing
behind them, the rift in space generated by the merchantman continued to grow,
reaching out almost to where the
Sweet Bejesus
was desperately
accelerating away.

The grey of
Nospace swept out of the rift, enveloping the merchantmen and its horrified
crew, rapidly condensing again until a solidified mass of it was centered upon
the hapless ship. The grey nonmatter swelled again, pulsed once and then
disappeared taking the merchantman with it. No one knew where any ship caught
like this went, not one having ever being seen again.

On the bridge of
the
Sweet Bejesus
, Asel laughed a throaty, hearty laugh. With idiots
like these after him, he stood a good chance of reaching the escaping yacht
before anyone else.

He gestured at his
Captain, requesting an update. Details swam into his vision through his AI. The
one merchantman in range had launched a full complement of slipmissiles at them
before opening another rift and disappearing into Nospace. The other two
merchantmen on the far side of both PDS stations were taking a more
conservative tact, staying within defensive range of the station.

The escaping yacht
was now almost 300 kilometers away from the PDS and preparing for the jump into
Nospace. The frigates intercepting Gabriella’s ship were almost in range and
preparing to fire. If Asel jumped in now along the escape trajectory of the
yacht, at the bare minimum of safe emergent distances, they could power in and
stop the ship from escaping to safety. This however, would place them at the
tender mercies of the frigates, the PDS’s and Gabriella.

Asel, his wings
suddenly extending from his back like some grotesque erection and looking
calmer than he felt, gave his orders.

◊

Gabriella paced
and fumed. She sat down in her command chair, tapped her fingers impatiently on
her armrest and then got up to pace and fume some more.

Sammael’s shuttle
was only a matter of minutes away. With him was her hostage; Felix’s crony,
Tarquin. Once the shuttle was safely on board, she could move out of range,
contact Felix - supposedly still on the planet, and make her offer; the
Overdrive for his friends life.

Gabriella was
confident that the naïve and innocent boy would jump at the chance to save his
friends life – at any cost. She’d read over his file and realized quickly that
he was an idealistic fool.

Over the centuries
she had dealt with countless idealists; she’d learnt to recognize them;
manipulating and exploiting their weaknesses for her own advantage. Felix was a
prime example; strong moral centre, a desire to help humankind, prepared to
make whatever sacrifice necessary for the good of others. Gabriella hated him.

For now though,
she had other things to worry about. Six Gitanian frigates were bearing down on
her and would be in firing range before she had the shuttle secure. Until that
time, she couldn’t jump clear if the frigates launched a slipmissile assault
against her as the shuttle was less than 300km distant.

She looked up at
the tactical screen that dominated one wall of her command centre. Another blip
had appeared, moving rapidly away from two larger blips representing the
stationary PDS stations. The information coming in indicated that it had left
the incapacitated station.

“You!” she said,
pointing imperiously at her Captain on the command floor below. “What is that?”

The terrified
Captain hastily consulted the ship’s AI. Of course Gabriella could have just as
easily done that herself but that was hardly the point. What point was there in
having lackey’s when one couldn’t order them around?

The Captain opened
his eyelid and looked at her nervously. “Its a small ship my Princess.”

Gabriella glared
at him, toying with the idea of having him thrown out the airlock.

“I know that you
idiot. What’s it doing?”

The Captain
swallowed and measured the distance to the nearest exit. He tried hard to hide
his disappointment when he realized he’d never make it.

“Leaving the PDS
and attempting to get clear for a jump into Nospace?," he suggested
hopefully.

“That much is
obvious Captain. What I want to know from you is this; who is on board and
where they are going. Fail to provide me with this information will result in
all your cavities being filled with molten hot plasma.” She grinned
encouragingly.

It was a smile
that could launch more than a thousand ships. On that face, Helen of Troy would
have had to beat ships off with a large stick. Harbors would have been full.
Men would have clamored and fought to have the privilege of rescuing her.

The effect on the
Captain was equally profound. The poor man couldn’t think of anything more
hideous. He cowered further, developing a nervous tic in one eye which was
seriously hindering his ability to communicate with the ship.

After two frantic
attempts to lower his eyelid, all the while watched by Gabriella still sporting
her dreadful grin, he finally succeeded, communicating with the ship and
extracting information that the ships AI had squeezed from the PDS during their
brief takeover. As a matter of course, The
Blazing Trumpet’s
AI had
copied all files relating to arrivals and departures after the station had been
compromised. Hopefully it would be enough to placate the Princess.

“Its
a..a..a..modified sports yacht," he said, compounding his already serious
tic problem with the beginnings of a stammer. “Reports in..in..in..indicate
that it arrived from the planet roughly at the same time as our boarding party."
He looked up, meeting the gaze of his now straight faced Princess and expected
the worse.

“Rest assured
Captain," said a grim faced Gabriella, “that you will pay for this mistake.
You can ameliorate this somewhat by your performance in the next few hours.
Serve me well and you will only lose one of your testicles.”

The Captain,
looking somewhat relied, groveled in abject terror and relief. He’d expected
worse. A small whimper escaped his quivering lips.

“Quiet!” growled
Gabriella, sitting again in her command chair. “I’m thinking.”

And indeed she
was. The yacht intrigued her. How it had been overlooked in the first place
made her furious. Her mood could easily be turned into a killing frenzy and
although it would have been pleasant to kill her Captain slowly, she could ill
afford to lose the man when they were about to engage the enemy.

All but forgotten
and unregistered at the time were reports of a ship disappearing as it tried to
leave Gitane. Gabriella had presumed it had been destroyed by the PDS station.
Perhaps not then. If it were the same ship, then it could conceivably contain
both Felix and the Overdrive. If that was the case, she could hardly overlook
them. But then she couldn’t leave Sammael and his hostage either.