The only option then would be to bubble out, but unless the Xre had drastically improved on their ring recharge rates, that wouldn’t be in the cards until after they’d crossed the line, either.
“We’re being painted with range-finding lasers, mum,” Warner said placidly.
“That’s only fair.”
“I can’t deploy retroreflectors while under acceleration, mum.”
“I’m aware,” Susan said. “Launch ten Mk IXs port and ten starboard, keep their drives cold, but link them into our targeting data.”
“Ten birds left, ten birds right, cold drives and hot links, aye, mum!”
Miguel cleared his throat.
“Sorry, XO,” Warner said. “Didn’t mean to skip over you. Just eager is all.”
“Mmhmm.” Miguel crossed his arms.
“Later you two,” Susan said a little saltier than she intended, but for God’s sake, they were in a hot zone.
“Boomers away,” Warner reported as the slight shudder of the ripple-fire of seven hundred tons of anti-ship missiles echoed through Ansari’s bones. “Uplinks stable, targeting data accepted. Missiles orienting themselves toward Bandit One. Hold one … missile A2C showing a thruster malfunction. Running diagnos—Nevermind, there it goes. Both flights ready and waiting for order to burn.”
“Thank you, Guns. Scopes, get two decoys prepped. But hold off on launch until—”
“Aspect change!” Mattu blurted out. “Bandit One has … wait. Power surge.”
“Are they charging capacitors?”
“No, it’s … this doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense, Scopes? Spit it out!”
“There’s been a gamma spike.”
“How? They’re already at emergency burn.”
“Acceleration falling off, half, one-third. Target orientation is changing. Negative three degrees z-axis, five degrees y-axis, half a degree per second.”
“Are they changing course?”
“No, bearing unchanged. They’re listing, mum.”
“And still headed straight for the Red Line.”
“Yes, mum, but their accel has dropped off entirely now. They’re ballistic.”
“What the hell are we supposed to make of that?” Miguel asked.
“I don’t know. Explosion?” Susan said.
“Failures involving antimatter are usually a little more catastrophic than this.”
That was true enough, as they’d been reminded not six hours ago. Susan rubbed at her jaw. “Maybe they lost containment on just one of their fusion rocket bells? That would mean what, a few grams of AM got away from them? Whatever was in the intermix chamber?”
“Or they’re faking it and wake up again the second they cross the line or we’re inside their offensive envelope and can’t maneuver out before getting shanked.”
“Is there any debris?”
“Radar is picking up a small cloud of objects spreading out from Bandit One at between one- and four-hundred meters per second.”
“How many? How big?”
“Several dozen, varying between our minimum detection threshold and about three meters in size.”
“Nothing they couldn’t shove out an airlock,” Miguel whispered.
“Bandit One’s EM signature just crashed,” Mattu said.
“Their stealth systems kicked in,” Warner said. “They’re ghosting us.”
“No, they’re still showing up on radar/lidar,” Mattu said. “Their EM emissions have just—stopped. I think they’ve lost main power. They’re dead in space, mum. Damn, they’re venting atmosphere.”
“Okay, that’s dedication,” Miguel said. Susan knew what he meant. No spacers, of either species, just threw away air. Nothing, not fuel, food, water, or heat, killed you faster than running out of air.
“Wait one…” Mattu wiped sweat away from her forehead. Susan imagined it was probably cold. Every member of the bridge crew looked at the Drone Integration Station with desperate eyes, hungry for Mattu’s next words.
She swallowed hard. “They’re hailing. Transmitted in the clear. It’s being routed through their translation matrix.”
“Shit.” Susan’s jaw clenched involuntarily. “Well, let’s hear it.”
“Yes’m,” Mattu said, then routed the feed she heard through to the CIC’s speakers. A heavily processed, synthesized voice filled the room.
“We Chusexx harmony. We announce Day in May. Rotting light leak caverns. Source energy failure. Implore not throw light-spear or javelin. Bellies to sky.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Nesbit asked incredulously.
“Mayday,” Susan answered for him. “It’s a distress call.”
“I said maximum thrust, Kivits.”
“But we have no way to replenish our annihilation fuel, Derstu. Whatever we burn, we cannot replace.”
“Yes, I was here for that,” Thuk said. “They need to think us desperate. Desperate enough to burn through our supply on a sacrificial charge. So, we consume a small fraction of our annihilation fuel to keep the ruse going and draw them across the line.”
“Very well, Derstu. I withdraw my objection.”
“Thank you. Tiller, maximum thrust. Unless anyone else has something to contribute?”
No one did. The Chusexx responded to the tiller attendant’s input.
“Maximum thrust, Derstu,” the tiller alcove reported.
“Shall we ready our light-spears and javelins?” Kivits asked.
Thuk stretched a midarm. “If it will make you feel better.”
Several attendants chortled softly until a stern look from their dulac clicked their mandibles shut. Still, it had the defusing effect Thuk had hoped for.
“It would indeed, Derstu.”
“Very well, then. Charge light-spears and unsheathe a flight of twelve javelins. Confirm the human ship’s range and velocity with a focus beam. Let them know we stare down a shaft at them.”
The harmony busied itself with preparation. For his part, Thuk sat back in his chair and took a moment in simple appreciation of their efforts. His crew was efficient and competent, like a well-run mound. He couldn’t take credit for it, of course, they’d been selected for duty aboard the Xre’s newest and greatest ship of war, after all. They had floated to the top long before he’d been given the dubious honor of serving them.
Still, if he had to be derstu, this was a fine harmony to—
With the suddenness of a bolt from the heavens, the Chusexx bucked sideways and threw Thuk painfully into the side of his chair, hard enough to knock the air from his chest. He felt one of the plates on his abdomen give way with a snap. The mighty ship’s bones groaned around them as if it, too, was in agony.
“What the seething Abyss was that?” Kivits shouted before Thuk caught back up to his breath.
“Reports are scattered and confused,” Hurg said, her voice high and tight like a plucked string.
“Somebody sing,” Thuk wheezed, his vision blurring at the edges from the pain. “What’s happened to our home?”
“Thrust is falling away,” the tiller
