Shattered Spear

Chapter Seven

“We will be within range of the battle cruiser’s weapons in ten minutes,” the senior specialist on the bridge reported.

Marphissa waved an acknowledgment, her hand now encased in the glove of the survival suit she had donned in preparation for battle. Everyone else was wearing a suit as well. The suits were nothing like the heavy battle armor of soldiers, being just strong enough to protect a human from the dangers of space and minor physical hazards if the hull of the ship was pierced by enemy weapons. “Kapitan Diaz, is your ship at maximum combat readiness?”

“Yes, Kommodor,” Diaz replied. “All shields at maximum, all crew at combat stations, all weapons ready.”

“Good.” Marphissa took a long look at her display, trying to estimate when to act given all of the uncertainties that existed. “Order your senior software and systems specialist to transmit the snake software when we are five minutes from being within range of the weapons on Vengeance.”

“Yes, Kommodor.” Diaz passed on the order, then gestured toward his display. “This marker will indicate when the software has been transmitted. Senior Specialist Beltsios has set it to show red if the knock fails, yellow if its status is uncertain, and green when the tunneling worms send back a pulse indicating success. It will remain green as long as the malware is active aboard Vengeance.”

“Understood.” Marphissa reached out to wave an extended finger through her display. “Pivot Manticore to face Vengeance bow on.”

Diaz didn’t question that command. It was an expected move prior to combat. Thrusters fired, swinging the heavy cruiser’s bow up and over in a smooth arc until more thrusters fired to halt the swing. Manticore’s bow, carrying most of her weapons and her strongest shields, now faced the enemy even though the heavy cruiser’s velocity in the other direction had not changed. Vengeance had been overtaking Manticore from both behind and a bit above and to starboard, hanging off that flank of the heavy cruiser and growing steadily larger as the remaining distance between the two warships dwindled.

As she waited through the next minute, Marphissa wondered why, after all her time in space, it still felt odd for the ship she was on to be racing backward at such incredible velocity. As long as the ship was going forward, that felt all right. But backward? It didn’t feel right at all.

The symbol marking the status of the snake malware came to life, glowing yellow.

Marphissa kept moving her gaze from the deadly threat of Vengeance drawing ever closer to the malware marker that continued to stubbornly display a yellow hue. Was it darkening to red? No. Maybe. No.

“One minute until we are within range of the battle cruiser’s weapons,” the combat systems specialist announced with a voice that somehow remained steady.

“Kommodor?”

“Wait.”

Somewhere aboard Vengeance, a different sort of battle was being fought between weapons and defenses carefully crafted by humans from coded pulses of energy. The battle was taking place at an incredible pace as the snake software attacked and the battle cruiser’s software tried to parry and block in a fencing match at the speed of light.

“Kommodor,” Diaz said urgently, “thirty seconds before Vengeance can open fire on us.”

“Wait.” Was the color of the marker altering yet? No. Yes. Darkening? But which way?

Green.

“Kapitan! Brake Manticore’s velocity enough to quickly bring us directly astern of Vengeance, then pivot one hundred eighty degrees again and target his main propulsion!”

“Yes, Kommodor!”

Manticore’s main propulsion surged to life once more, slowing the ship this time and allowing Vengeance to overtake her more rapidly.

Marphissa could not help smiling fiercely as she thought of the scene that must be playing out aboard Vengeance. Imallye would have been preparing to give the order to unleash a devastating volley upon Manticore, only to see the heavy cruiser suddenly disappear from her display. Imallye would be screaming at her crew right now, demanding that they find out what had happened, demanding that they find out how their target had completely vanished, ordering them to—

Vengeance fired her forward-facing hell lances, a lattice of deadly particle beams that speared through space.

The salvo tore through the spot where Manticore would have been if she had not reduced her velocity, then subsequent shots from Vengeance began working their way through space farther ahead along that track.

“They think we’re trying to accelerate away from them while we’re hidden,” Diaz said with a laugh. He was wearing the same sort of ferocious grin as Marphissa.

Manticore’s main propulsion had cut off as Vengeance slid by off to starboard and slightly above the heavy cruiser like a huge shark sailing past a smaller cousin. Usually, space engagements took place at combined velocities so great that the actual combat occurred within a tiny fraction of a second when the opposing forces were within range of each other. But despite the great speed that both Vengeance and Manticore were traveling, they were going in nearly the same direction, making their relative speed as slow as that of two ground vehicles passing each other.

Diaz brought the heavy cruiser back around so she was once more facing the same direction as she was going, her bow facing toward the stern of the battle cruiser as it came into view at close range. “Main propulsion on full,” Diaz ordered. “We want time to put a lot of shots into his tail! All weapons, fire!”

Manticore unleashed a barrage from her own hell lances, launching missiles and, this close to her target, also firing the ball bearings called grapeshot. “Continuous fire!” Diaz called out. “Maintain attack!”

The battle cruiser’s stern had the weakest shields and the least armor because of the main propulsion units clustered there. The bow was always supposed to be pivoted to face an enemy. But that couldn’t be done when the enemy couldn’t be seen.

The hits registering on the stern of Vengeance were a clear sign of Manticore’s general location, however. Even though the battle cruiser did not yet have a precise target to engage, Vengeance ceased hurling hell lance shots into empty space, cut off main propulsion completely, and began firing thrusters to pivot around and face toward the attacks.

But as the battle cruiser’s bow began to swing up, the stern remained clearly in sight of Manticore. The heavy cruiser’s weapons impacted on Vengeance’s stern shields with brilliant flares of light that blazed and faded with every blow as the merciless barrage continued. Marphissa, checking the time, was startled to see that barely a minute had passed since Manticore opened fire. For those used to typical microsecond-long firing engagements, this one felt incredibly prolonged.

“Enemy shields are almost down,” the combat systems specialist reported.

“Their turn rate is increasing, but we’ll still be able to hit his stern for another two minutes before it swings out of our line of sight. How much longer do we have before Vengeance can see us again?” Diaz wondered, his eyes locked on his display to monitor the attack.

“We won’t need much longer,” Marphissa said.

“Hell lance batteries are beginning to overheat,” the weapons systems specialist warned.

Marphissa breathed another one of the prayers that Bradamont had told her. Designed for fights of very short duration, the particle beam weapons could not sustain firing for long periods. If they overheated enough and shut down too soon Manticore would lose critical weapons capability.

That was just one of her concerns. Was the green malware marker changing color? Not yet. Marphissa blinked rapidly, trying to spot the first trace of change in hue.

The stern shields on the battle cruiser collapsed. Manticore’s shots began impacting the ship, slamming into Vengeance’s main propulsion units and in some cases triggering secondary explosions.

“Hit them!” someone on the bridge whispered exultantly.

Marphissa stared intently at the malware status marker. Had the green shade flickered? There it was again. “Kapitan, continue your attack with any weapons that can bear on the enemy but get this ship turned and start braking hard!”

Diaz clearly wanted to keep landing blows on the enemy, but hesitated for only a fraction of a second before calling out orders. Manticore’s main propulsion cut off again. Vengeance, though pivoting now as fast as the thrusters could bring the battle cruiser around, was still rocketing forward at undiminished velocity. The distance had already opened enough that Manticore’s grapeshot was no longer effective, but the heavy cruiser kept throwing out missiles as fast as the launchers could reload and firing any hell lance whose projector could bear on the enemy as Manticore’s bow swung through another half turn.

Facing away from her foe once more, Manticore lit off her main propulsion and began reducing velocity as fast as the ship and crew could endure. The inertial dampers shrilled protests again as red stress warnings pulsed on displays and the heavy cruiser’s structure groaned under the conflicting forces that threatened to shatter it.

Marphissa, her head once again pressed against the back of her seat by momentum forces leaking through the inertial damper fields as Manticore labored to slow down, saw the malware marker abruptly turn as red as the stress warnings. Seconds later, Vengeance, bow pointing straight up relative to Manticore, began firing the hell lances that could target the heavy cruiser astern, following those with a stream of missiles that rolled and spun onto intercepts aimed at the heavy cruiser.

With the distance between the two warships now increasing rapidly, Manticore dropped out of range of the battle cruiser’s hell lances after only a few shots had been fired, flaring against Manticore’s shields and weakening them but not breaking through. Marphissa breathed a sigh of relief as the chance of a full volley of Vengeance’s hell lances slamming home vanished. But the missiles were another matter.

“Target incoming missiles with hell lances and grapeshot,” Diaz ordered, his face reflecting the strain that the entire crew was feeling as Manticore continued to brake velocity at a rate that was producing increasingly urgent warnings from the ship’s systems.

With Manticore’s stern facing toward the rapidly receding Vengeance as the heavy cruiser reduced speed, few weapons could engage the oncoming missiles. Diaz opened his mouth to give a command.

“Hold your current vector and propulsion settings,” Marphissa ordered.

Diaz gulped as if swallowing his unspoken command before replying. “Yes, Kommodor.”

“Stand by for maneuvers, Kapitan. Keep your combat systems targeted on those incoming missiles, and remember that maneuver that Captain Bradamont showed us against the Syndicate warships.”

Marphissa waited for the right moment, watching as the missiles tore closer, hoping she had learned enough from watching and listening to Bradamont. “Main propulsion off!”

Diaz repeated the order, but Marphissa’s command was already being carried out. Manticore’s propulsion units ceased laboring to lower her velocity. Her speed unchecked now, the warship was moving faster than if she had kept slowing down. The incoming missiles, aiming to hit the heavy cruiser where she would have been if she had kept braking, were now aiming for a point behind where Manticore was.

Two missiles passed close enough to Manticore for their proximity fuses to detonate. The warship shuddered as the shock waves of particles and shrapnel slammed into her shields, but the shields held. The rest of the missiles shot past the heavy cruiser and labored to turn fast enough to reengage their target. Most of those missiles disintegrated as their structures failed under the stress of the too-rapid maneuvers. The few that survived were almost at a standstill relative to Manticore when they came out of their turns, and having raced past the heavy cruiser were now facing Manticore’s heavily armed bow. Hell lances tore into them and wiped out the remaining missiles.

“We are out of range of Vengeance’s weapons,” the combat systems specialist announced, sounding dazed.

Marphissa could see the battle cruiser on her display, the massive warship still pivoting under the push of her own thrusters to face back fully toward Manticore. “I need an assessment of damage to Vengeance’s main propulsion units.”

“Preliminary estimate from our sensors is that Vengeance has lost eighty percent of her main propulsion,” the senior watch specialist said.

“Eighty percent?” Marphissa felt herself finally beginning to relax. “And he got his velocity up to nearly point three five light speed before we clipped his wings. With that much momentum, that much mass, and only one-fifth of his normal propulsion working, it’s going to take Vengeance a long time to slow down again.”

Diaz was working on his maneuvering display. “Our systems say Vengeance won’t be able to get his velocity down to reengage us before overshooting the jump point. We can just keep going, following Vengeance at a distance, until we reach the jump point after he overruns it. Imallye’s light cruisers and HuKs back at the planet’s orbit are so far out of position they couldn’t catch us unless we dropped our velocity to the pace of a CEO going to hand out bonuses to workers.” He put up one hand to rub his forehead, smiling in disbelief. “Your plan was a good one, Kommodor.”

“I’m certain that you never doubted me,” Marphissa replied dryly, then smiled as well to take any sting out of the words.

Diaz squinted at his display again. “Our engineering specialists are saying that while we did extensive damage to the main propulsion on Vengeance, none of it was extreme because the battle cruiser was able to shift her stern out of a direct line with our incoming fire. They believe that the damage can be repaired without wholesale replacing of those units once the battle cruiser reaches an orbital dock. That won’t be until long after we leave Moorea, of course. Granaile Imallye is going to be very unhappy.”

“I imagine she is already very unhappy.”

The message that arrived from Vengeance several minutes later confirmed Marphissa’s guess. Imallye wasn’t sprawled in her seat this time but sitting rigidly, her eyes lit with a cold fury that chilled Marphissa even across the many thousands of kilometers already separating the two warships.

“I underestimated you, Kommodor,” Imallye said, her voice as frigid as the breath of space. “I will not do so again. Your tricks will not save you the next time I encounter you. Nor will tricks save CEO Iceni. When you get back to Midway, tell your president that the fate she long ago earned by her actions will soon be visited upon her and anyone who dares to follow her orders.”

The transmission cut off. That was rude, Marphissa thought, then almost laughed at the absurdity of that characterization of the message after the brutal threats contained in it. What the hell. She did laugh, drawing surprised looks and then smiles from Diaz and the rest of the crew on the bridge. “Get us back on a clean vector to the jump point for Iwa, Kapitan. We don’t appear to be welcome in Moorea Star System!”

Even with the long acceleration, chase, and a battle in which everyone had continued to head at very high velocity in the direction of the jump point, it still took two more days of travel, including the time spent braking Manticore’s velocity down to point two light speed, to reach the jump point. The sensors on the heavy cruiser had been able to spot a lot of activity on the outer hull of Vengeance as her crew labored to repair enough main propulsion to allow another fight. But Syndicate warships were designed efficiently, which meant not enough crew to repair battle damage, little repair training for a crew expected to simply swap out broken black boxes with new ones, and not enough spares or other parts aboard to do such extensive repairs even if the necessary men and women had been available. Surprisingly, Vengeance did manage to get one of the damaged main propulsion units working again despite all of those hindrances, but by the time that happened Manticore was on final approach to the jump point and Vengeance had already rocketed helplessly past that point despite all attempts to reduce velocity.

In the privacy of her stateroom, Marphissa prepared a final transmission aimed at Vengeance, ensuring that there was no trace of gloating or amusement in her expression or her voice. “Honored Granaile Imallye, I regret that our first encounter has involved hostilities. On behalf of President Iceni, I once again extend the hand of friendship to you and urge you to contact her peacefully for negotiations. Whatever past events lie between you, I assure you that President Iceni is no longer the person who did you such a wrong. I also assure you that should you come to Midway Star System with hostile intent, neither you nor any of your warships will survive. Iwa Star System offers a clear and ugly example of what the enigma race intends doing to every human-occupied star system. You can see it for yourself and know that the threat is real. We can face that threat together, to the benefit of all. For the people, Marphissa, out.”

She relaxed as the transmission ended, leaning back to gaze at the hatch to her stateroom. As was common with Syndicate warships, that hatch was both armored and outfitted with alarms, because their own subordinates were feared by Syndicate bosses almost as much as the enemy. But the defenses increasingly felt to Marphissa like anachronisms, souvenirs from another time, no longer needed when the crew was motivated by belief in what they fought for and loyalty to their leaders rather than terror of the consequences of failure or insubordination. Imallye’s grudge against President Iceni, no matter how well justified it might be, was also an anachronism, rooted in the past.

The past could not justify destroying the future Iceni was creating.

“Kommodor?” Diaz called down from the bridge. “Manticore will reach the jump point for Iwa in five minutes.”

“You have permission to jump when ready,” Marphissa said. She activated her stateroom’s display and sat watching it until the stars disappeared and were replaced by the gray nothingness of jump space.

Marphissa had Manticore once more at full combat readiness when the heavy cruiser left jump space. But there was no sign anywhere in Iwa Star System of the enigmas. Iwa was still a lifeless graveyard whose markers were debris floating between worlds and the craters pockmarking the surface of those worlds. If the aliens had returned, they had apparently departed again already.

“Head straight for the jump point for Midway?” Diaz asked.

She paused to consider the question, studying her display. Nothing visible. But… “Do you remember that the humans captured by the enigmas were confined inside an asteroid?”

“Yes.” Diaz gestured to his display. “But we would spot that. There would be waste heat that could not be hidden.”

“Maybe.” Marphissa shook her head, not sure why she was feeling uncertain. “But the enigmas hide themselves. They hide everything. We can’t take time to tour this star system looking closely at every object, though. President Iceni needs to be informed about what has happened here and at Moorea. Take us to the jump point, but route our path through the star system instead of skirting along the edge. That will bring us closer to many of the objects orbiting Iwa, though still a long ways from many others. Make sure our sensors look over every object in this star system as best they are capable for any signs of anything amiss.”

“Yes, Kommodor. I will ensure the specialists are alert.”

Another long transit through space, this one longer than necessary because of Marphissa’s orders to take a more lengthy transit that swung through the inner planets and past the star, but unmarked by any events or tension except for the need to get home. Marphissa checked at random intervals on the specialists on watch and found them always attentive to their displays, but no one reported anything and none of the automated scans reported anything unexpected.

Until they were an hour from their closest point of approach to the world where most of the Syndicate presence had been before the enigmas destroyed everything.

“Kapitan?” One of the specialists spoke with growing worry evident in her voice. “There is something happening on that planet where the Syndicate city was located.”

“Something?” Diaz prodded. “Show me.”

“What our sensors are seeing is very subtle, Kapitan.”

“Show me.”

“Yes, Kapitan.”

Marphissa watched as Diaz studied his display with a frown of puzzlement. “What am I seeing?” he finally asked the specialist. “What do these indications mean? They are barely detectable by our sensors.”

“Show me as well,” Marphissa ordered.

The data that appeared on a magnified image of that world didn’t mean anything to Marphissa, either. But she did see that it clustered near the large craters that were the grave markers for the mostly buried Syndicate city which had been totally destroyed by enigma bombardment.

“We haven’t had a good look until now at that location on that world during this transit because of the planet’s position relative to our track,” the specialist explained. “But we are now only about ten light minutes from the planet, which is approaching our track as it orbits Iwa, and we can get a clear view of the planet as it rotates.”

“What are we seeing now that we can see it?” Marphissa asked.

“I believe,” the specialist said cautiously, “that this data indicates substantial subsurface activity. From this distance, with our sensors, we would only detect large-scale events deep beneath the surface of the planet.”

“Large-scale events?” Marphissa questioned. “Do you mean earthquakes? Triggered by all of the impacts of enigma bombardment projectiles on that world?”

“No, Kommodor.” Some of the data reports glowed a little brighter. “These indicators show regular variations. That would mean they are artificial.”

“Artificial?” Marphissa felt a glow of hope. “Some of the people here survived the enigma attack by going deep? I didn’t think Syndicate shelters could have ridden out impacts of the size that struck that area.”

“No, Kommodor,” the specialist said. “They should not have. Any Syndicate shelters, even deep ones, should have been pulverized.”

“Then who is digging—” Diaz began irritably. He stopped speaking, his face going rigid. “Or should I be asking what is digging very deep on that planet?”

“We may be detecting enigma subsurface activity,” the specialist said in a rush. “A very large amount of subsurface activity.”

Marphissa exhaled slowly, feeling a coldness that was not born of any life support fluctuation. “Just as we feared. They’re establishing a base. In a place where we couldn’t see any trace of it, their work and any excavated materials hidden by the devastation where they tore that part of the planet to hell.”

“No surface facilities at all?” Diaz asked, bewildered.

“I told you. It’s consistent with what Black Jack’s fleet saw in enigma space. Captain Bradamont and I have talked about it,” Marphissa said. “She said the enigmas hide everything as much as they can from any possible observation.”

Diaz nodded, rubbing his chin as he gazed at the apparently innocuous data. “I once saw the Syndicate base at Kure. An entire moon hollowed out. If the enigmas want to construct a major base deep beneath the surface of that planet, and if they have automated construction capabilities anything like ours, they could do it. Any surface accesses, even ones big enough for a battleship, could be concealed.”

“And that fool Imallye is planning to set up shop here as well!” Marphissa said. “If they don’t check things out thoroughly, or if the enigmas have finished their major excavations by the time Imallye’s forces arrive, Imallye might be oblivious to the fact that she’s sharing this star system with an enigma force that could wipe out her base at any time with no warning!”

She spun to look at the specialist who had spoken up and was still watching Marphissa and Diaz to see how her report would be received. “Well done. Very well done. You spotted that subtle data and you interpreted it well. Kapitan Diaz, this specialist deserves a promotion.”

“I understand and will comply,” Diaz said, making the old, fearful Syndicate response sound like a pleasant tasking. “Can we bomb that enigma base out of existence?”

“We can’t, not with the bombardment projectiles that Manticore carries. They’re not big enough to get at something as deep as the enigmas apparently are. And I don’t want to tip off the enigmas that we’ve spotted their work by tossing some futile rocks their way. As for whether any of our mobile forces can do the trick, I don’t know. We might need a big asteroid to do enough damage, and that would require a while to divert and reach the planet. We will inform President Iceni. She will decide.”

Marphissa gazed at her display, morose. She perfectly understood the uncertainty of the specialist who had reported the indications of enigma activity on that planet. No one wanted to be the one to inform the boss of a problem. Sure, Marphissa had survived Imallye’s attack at Moorea, but she would be returning with news that the Syndicate presence at Iwa Star System had been wiped out by the enigmas, that Granaile Imallye had refused offers of cooperation, threatened Iceni herself, and attacked Manticore, and that the enigmas were busy constructing a major base at Iwa. If I was bringing this much and this kind of bad news back to a Syndicate superior, I’d be expecting to be sent to a labor camp for being the bearer of unwelcome information. President Iceni won’t do that. But I have let her down. Instead of returning with good news, I am going to be a herald of many dangers.

She was roused from feeling sorry for herself by an urgent tone that drew Marphissa’s attention back to her display. She stared at it in disbelief. “Is that a pickup signal?”

“Yes, Kommodor,” the senior specialist confirmed. “It is coming from the same planet on which the enigma construction is under way, not too many kilometers from the craters that mark the former site of the Syndicate city.”

“An enigma trick,” Diaz scoffed. “It must be.”

“Why would they be calling our attention to that planet?” Marphissa wondered. “How directional is that pickup signal?” she asked the comm specialist.

“It is aimed at us,” the specialist said. “They are highly directional signals.”

“How would someone on that planet, assuming they survived, know that we were out here?” Diaz demanded.

“Sir, if it is standard Syndicate ground forces armor, then it would automatically scan overhead for any visible activity. The visual sensors on ground armor would be capable of spotting the movement of this ship across the heavens when we drew close enough.”

“Could that armor identify us?” Marphissa asked.

“No, Kommodor. Not from that range. It would only know that we were an artificial object. A ship.”

She rubbed her chin and stared at her display, knowing that the next move was entirely up to her. A human might have survived on that planet and be signaling for help. Even if he or she or they had access to extra power supplies for their armor they must be near to exhausting those, and once their armor was out of power they would surely die on the surface of what had always been an inhospitable world. Their armor had seen a ship in space and, desperate, they had signaled for help, assuming or hoping that it was a human ship.

If she were still Syndicate, Marphissa knew exactly what would be expected of her. Do not risk the unit by heading into what might well be a trap. Do not risk the mission by risking loss of the ship. Whichever workers had survived on that planet were not worth diverting her ship’s track. Maybe they had important intelligence, but if so she could send a signal back ordering their battle armor to automatically upload all information their systems had accumulated. With that information in hand, she could proceed on her way without risking Manticore.

But she wasn’t Syndicate anymore, and never had been in her heart.

“What do you think?” she asked Diaz in a quiet voice.

Diaz inhaled deeply, blew out the breath, then answered in the same low tones. “Odds are it is a trap. No one has ever been recovered from a world occupied by the enigmas.”

“But the Syndicate could never mount recovery operations,” Marphissa said. “Eventually, any humans left on an enigma-occupied world would be run down and killed, but they could have remained hidden for a while. Planets look tiny from up here, but to someone on the surface a world is a very big place.”

“It would be dangerous to get close to that world,” Diaz pointed out. “We don’t know what sort of hidden defenses the enigmas might have already installed.”

“Shouldn’t we try to find out? That would be very important to know.”

“It would,” Diaz agreed. “But how do we lift anyone off the surface? We don’t have a shuttle. I can take Manticore into atmosphere, but there is no way of landing a heavy cruiser on a planet’s surface unless you crash it.”

Marphissa pondered that problem, feeling relieved that there seemed to be no way to save that person, but also feeling guilty to be relieved about it. “If there’s no means of—”

“Wait.” Diaz grimaced. “My pardon, Kommodor. I just thought of something. The tow cable.”

“The tow cable?” Marphissa took a moment to understand what he meant. Heavy cruisers, battleships, and battle cruisers were all equipped with long cables that could be hooked to other warships that had been crippled by enemy fire, allowing those damaged ships to be towed back to a repair facility. Even the efficiency-obsessed Syndicate bureaucracy had decided that the costs of tow cables were more than offset by the savings from recovering warships that otherwise would have had to be abandoned. “We could hover low enough for the cable to be just above the surface… How long is it?”

“Half a kilometer.”

“Half a kilometer,” she repeated, thinking of a heavy cruiser coming within half a kilometer of a planet’s surface. “Is that idea even technically feasible?”

“I’ll have to have my specialists run the numbers on it,” Diaz said. “The atmosphere on that world is thin, so it might be possible if we cut our velocity down to a crawl. But it would be very risky, Kommodor.”

“I know.” She looked past her display to the blank bulkhead beyond it, thinking. “When Black Jack’s fleet went into enigma territory, they learned that Syndicate citizens were prisoners inside an asteroid and they rescued them. At great risk, they rescued Syndicate citizens and brought them home.”

“It was Black Jack,” Diaz said. “He is for the people, even though he is Alliance.”

“Can we do less than an Alliance fleet?” Marphissa asked. “Can we abandon whoever is on that planet, when Black Jack would go there and somehow rescue them? We are no longer Syndicate. There are people there who need our help.”

“Would you risk this entire crew to save one man or woman?” Diaz asked.

“Yes!” Marphissa nodded firmly. “Have your specialists analyze the proposal, Kapitan. While they are doing so, alter our vector to intercept that world in its orbit.”

“Yes, Kommodor. We will have to brake as we near orbit, so it will take two and a half hours to reach a point above where that recall signal came from.”

Two and a half hours to second-guess her decision. As Manticore’s thrusters and main propulsion pushed her into a new vector, Marphissa looked at the depiction of the planet they were now directly approaching. If the enigmas deep under that world’s surface were keeping track of events above it, as surely they must be, then they would know that the human warship was now heading their way.

“They are hiding,” she said to Diaz. “The enigmas don’t want us to know they are there. Even if they detected the pickup signal sent to us, they will not want to do anything to tip us off that they are digging inside that planet. So they will stay quiet, watching, and waiting for us to go away.”

“I hope you are right, Kommodor,” Diaz said.

Half an hour later, the specialists rendered their verdicts on the plan. “It is possible,” Diaz reported to Marphissa. “My specialists recommend that we program in the task and allow our automated maneuvering systems to handle everything inside atmosphere, because no one on this ship has experience with maneuvering so close to a planet’s surface.”

“The idea of hovering half a kilometer from the surface of a planet terrifies me,” Marphissa confessed. “It is within safe operating parameters for the ship?”

“Yes, Kommodor.” Diaz checked his display again where the report was visible. “Our main propulsion is so powerful it can easily hold the ship in a hover above a planet of this size. The main fear is making some imprecise adjustment from which we would not have room to recover, but that should not happen with the automated systems controlling the approach to the surface and the hover.”

Marphissa pointed to part of the report. “This is the only way to do it? Have them latch on to the tow cable, haul everything back out of atmosphere, then bring in the cable?”

“Yes, Kommodor. We can’t bring in the cable while main propulsion is going, and we can’t shut off main propulsion until we get back into orbit.”

She sighed heavily. “Let us hope that citizen, or those citizens, have intact armor or survival suits. Can we rig anything on the cable to make it easier for them to hang on?”

Diaz nodded. “My people are putting together a… well, it’s a cage. We’ll fasten it to the end of the cable. Whoever is down there will have to grab the cage and climb inside.”

“This is crazy,” Marphissa said. “You’re thinking that, too, aren’t you?”

“I would never tell a superior officer that her plan is crazy,” Diaz said. “I would tell her if I thought it could not be done. We will be sitting ducks, though. If the enigmas choose to attack us while we are inside atmosphere, our velocity will be limited to speeds far below what we normally use.”

Marphissa frowned in thought. “When we reach the planet, I want to do some orbits before descending into atmosphere. Do some high passes, then some low ones, as if we are looking for any sign of the enigmas and want to provoke a reaction.”

“Then when we go into atmosphere they will think that’s just another attempt to get them to show themselves?” Diaz shrugged. “That might work. But it assumes the enigmas think like humans.”

“Captain Bradamont told me that staying hidden was the number one priority for enigmas,” Marphissa said. “I don’t pretend to know why that is, but as long as I know that is how they tend to act, I can use it.”

Manticore reached the planet and went into high orbit, swinging around the globe as if conducting an intensive search. And, indeed, that was happening, as the warship’s sensors strained to spot any sign of whoever had sent the pickup request.

“Let’s go closer in,” Marphissa ordered. “Is the cage ready?” she asked Diaz.

“Yes, Kommodor. It is securely attached. I inspected the cage myself. It will hold under expected stress conditions.”

Manticore slowed and dropped lower, skimming the upper atmosphere of the planet. As the heavy cruiser passed over the region where the pickup signal had originated, an alert sounded.

“We have the signal again,” the comm specialist said. “A burst transmission. Our systems have localized its origin within a twenty-kilometer radius.”

“Can we see anything?” Diaz asked, chewing his lip.

“No, Kapitan,” the senior specialist reported. “There is dust and atmospheric interference.”

“What about the indications of subsurface activity?” Marphissa asked.

“They ceased while we were still approaching the planet, Kommodor. We are detecting nothing artificial on the planet at this time except for the pickup signal.”

“The enigmas are hiding, as we hoped, trying not to betray any sign of their presence. Take us around one more time,” Marphissa ordered Diaz. “Then begin descent into atmosphere, aimed for a point at the center of the estimated position of that signal.”