Wasteland of Flint

The Cornuelle, Outbound from Ephesus III Orbit

The pitch of the vibration humming through the deck and walls shifted and Susan Kosho looked up from her v-panel, head cocked to one side. "We've reached safe distance," she said, turning her attention back to the schematics on her display. With their gravity signature pared down to the absolute minimum by shutting off the g-decking, the Cornuelle creaked and groaned with odd noises. The main hull had picked up little tics and squeaks over time. In the depths of ship's night, you could hear her speaking, if you were quiet.

Hayes nodded absently, chewing on a stylus, pale blue eyes sunken in dark hollows. Susan pushed a cup of tea toward him, letting the sealed container slide across the worktable in the senior officer's mess. "You should drink that — you need to eat."

"Yes, mother," he replied, still paging slowly through the schematic. He set the cup aside. "This thing is a monster. Look at the shielding…and these mining beam rigs look like a Mark Ninety-Six proton cannon refitted for a civilian power plant."

Susan nodded, then took a long sip from her own cup. The tea was very strong and thick with honey. She was certain the steward had added stimulants and some kind of vitamin supplement. There's an undertaste, she thought, stealing a glance at her medband. The thin, flesh-colored circlet around her wrist was quiescent, indicating a lack of toxins. Of cinnamon.

"Don't fool yourself," Susan said aloud, tapping a section of the Tyr blueprints on her panel. "The power plant for one of these has more in common with our drive than any civilian liner. See? This report from the Mirror says a Tyr has three reactors, each capable of output matching or exceeding our own. She has to, to move so much mass."

"Wonderful," Hayes grumbled, finally putting down the pad. He retrieved his tea, which had slid back along the table toward the rear bulkhead. Grimacing at the bitter/honey taste, he downed the whole thing in one gulp. "So let's consider — she's surrounded by ore carrels which — if they're full, and loaded properly — give her the equivalent of a hundred meters of low-grade armor plating. Not a reactive shield, no, but enough to shrug off most of our lighter penetrators and beam weapons. Then her core section is clad in enough radiation shielding for a battle cruiser and she mounts the most godawful huge cutting beam assemblies I've ever seen. These are nearly dreadnaught-strength mounts!"

Susan nodded, finding a page she recalled from the Seeking Eye — Fleet Intelligence — report. "Pursuant to the Treaty of Rostov," she read, "the macehualli pochteca — or industrial combines — have been required to turn all armaments and munitions factories, orbital yards, workshops and other means of naval production to nonmilitary use. This they have done." A brief, fierce smile flickered across Susan's face. "In the case of the Tyr-class mobile ore refinery, the core of the civilian ship is a stripped down Kaiserschlacht-class heavy cruiser. Some of the early refinery models, in fact, are physically built around decommissioned K-schlacht hulls."

"Sister bless!" Hayes tabbed to the same page. "They didn't leave the original sensor net and ECM intact, did they?"

Susan pursed her lips and pointed with her stylus at another section of the report. "Navigating in an asteroid belt, or an Oort cloud, is a tricky business. This requires the refinery to carry advanced avionics and sensor equipment. The targeting systems and main comp aren't supposed to be military grade, of course. Just civilian models."

Hayes leaned back against the bulkhead, his broad face looking tired and pudgy. "Easy enough to replace from the black market — if the originals were ever actually removed in the first place."

"Or to upgrade," Susan said quietly. "K-schlacht hulls are over a hundred years old. Even a modern civilian rig would be superior in head-to-head with the old Royal Navy gear. And these ships are straight out of the Norsktrad yard at Kiruna — which means they have the very latest comp and scan on board."

Hayes rubbed his face and made a groaning sound. Kosho wanted to laugh derisively, but she felt a certain sisterly affection for the senior lieutenant. He was quick on his board, and quite adept at handling dozens of incoming threats and targets in the thick of the action — but he hadn't quite the taste for the hunt a commanding officer really needed.

"So," she said, in a brisk voice, "how do we kill this thing?"

Hayes stared at her, then leaned his chin on clasped hands. "Right. Kill it…well, the firing aperture of those mining beams is restricted — they can't have full traverse with the ore carrels in the way — so there are blind spots if we can get a target lock and proper orientation."

"Good." Susan laid down her comp pad and fixed him with her full attention. "And?"

"And…they probably don't have any missile capacity, unless they're hiding some kind of pods in the carrels — which they could be! But that wouldn't pass muster anywhere they docked — and they did come here to mine, didn't they?" He seemed to perk up at the thought.

"Yes, they did." Susan rolled her stylus between middle finger and thumb. "The ship's power-to-mass ratio is also against them — they will have a hard time outmaneuvering us, and a harder time hiding from us if they do move."

"Yeah." Hayes made a face. "So we have to maneuver for position, get into one of their blinds and just hammer them, knock out engines, break through the armor… Could be messy."

"No, we can't be messy," Susan said, flipping the stylus deftly in her hand so the sharp point pointed down at the table. "We must be exact — " she made a sharp stabbing motion with the writing tool "- and swift. One blow, thrust past all that armor will — "

"— not be necessary." Hadeishi's voice was soft from the hatchway. Susan stiffened, aware her hair was unbound, her uniform jacket untabbed at the neck, and she sat up straight. Hayes had also come to attention. The chu-sa stepped into the room, nodded to them both, and drew a tea from the automat. "You two should get some sleep. We will be busy later."

"What about the Tyr?" Hayes said, betraying a little confusion. "We have to be ready to deal with this brute when we — "

Hadeishi waved him to silence, settling into a chair at the end of the table, hands curling around the warm cup. "If we engage the refinery in any kind of shooting match, we've failed. I am under strict orders to secure the miner without the use of any kind of missile, beam weapon or weapon producing an electromagnetic signature."

He smiled gently at both of them — particularly at Hayes, who was staring gape-mouthed.

"What is the pinnacle of a warrior's skill?" Hadeishi turned to Susan, his mellow brown eyes capturing hers. She felt a chill shock, as if he'd splashed ice water on her face. But her mind was quick, and she remembered both the question and the traditional answer.

"To subdue the enemy without fighting." She frowned in distaste. "You're quoting from — "

Hadeishi raised an eyebrow and finished his tea. "That does not mean," he said quietly as he stood up, "it is not true. Good night."

Kosho watched the chu-sa leave and wondered how he'd gained access to a copy of the Ping Fa. She was a little disturbed. I'm very sure all those books were destroyed.