other, this chase is going to end in four more days.
'Sinclair.'
Paul jerked his head around at Commander Garcia's hail.
'The captain wants you on the bridge for this intercept.'
'Sir?' Maybe Paul didn't have much to do in CIC, but he was Tweed's assistant, which meant his duty station was supposed to be here. Granted, with both Garcia and Tweed on hand as his immediate superiors, odds were Paul would never have anything to do except watch and learn, as Tweed had once advised him. Unless both Garcia and Tweed somehow died or were incapacitated, Paul wouldn't be giving any orders in CIC. Still, he had a job here. 'My general quarters station-'
'Is wherever the captain tells you it is! Get your butt up there.'
'Yes, sir.' Whatever the Captain wants of me on the bridge, I guess it doesn't matter too much. I'm not going to be giving any orders here or there, not unless that SASAL ship somehow knocks out every other line officer on the ship. Paul looked down at the two enlisted crewing the console he was supposed to superfluously supervise. 'Sorry, guys. You'll have to handle this one without me.'
One of the Operations Specialists grinned. 'We'll do our best, sir.'
Paul swung out past the other enlisted and officers at their stations, down the passageway leading to the bridge. At every bulkhead, he had to stop to open and then resecure airtight hatches sealed for general quarters. It made for a tedious journey, but Paul had no intention of attracting the wrath of the XO by failing to maintain airtight integrity on his route.
The bridge itself was far more crowded than usual already. Lieutenant Sindh, the general quarters officer of the deck, glanced over at Paul as he entered the bridge, a questioning and challenging look on her face. 'The captain wanted me here,' Paul answered the unspoken question. He felt awkward, not being part of the normal general quarters watch team, and fearing his presence might disrupt them somehow. But Sindh simply nodded and turned back to her console, the rest of the bridge watch continuing their functions as if Paul hadn't arrived.
Wakeman, sitting in his chair on the starboard side of the bridge, looked over and gestured sharply. 'Sinclair. Make sure you're close enough to answer any questions I ask.'
Paul wriggled through the watch standers, finally finding a clear spot aft and near the starboard side of the bridge. He fastened his tie-downs to the nearest securing stations, looked around to be sure he wasn't blocking anyone's view of any important display, then hung silently, his eyes on the main display.
This close, the SASAL ship was easily visible on the main display, its image magnified by the Michaelson 's visual sensors. Unlike the smooth surface of the warship, the research ship was blocky, studded with pods and apparently tacked-on compartments. Without air or water resistance to worry about, civilian spaceships often had such additions applied apparently haphazardly, though Paul had been told they were actually added with enough care to ensure the ship's center-of-mass and line-of-thrust stayed more-or-less aligned.
Paul looked forward, up, and to the right, as if there were a porthole there through which he could see the fleeing SASAL ship directly. If neither ship did anything else, the SASAL ship and the Michaelson would maintain the exact same bearings relative to each other right up to the moment their hulls bumped. Not that either the Michaelson nor the SASAL ship would actually let that happen.
'Okay, then.' Wakeman actually rubbed his hands together, smiling in anticipation. 'Let's ensure this wise guy sees us. Deactivate the visual bypass system.'
'Deactivate visual bypass system, aye. Visual bypass system deactivated, sir.' The lenses and the screens on the outside of the hull switched off, clearly revealing the Michaelson in all her menace to the nearby SASAL ship.
'Communications. Call that ship and tell them to heave to for boarding. I want them at dead-stop relative to us.'
'Aye, aye, sir.' Long moments passed, while Wakeman smiled confidently. 'Sir, there's no response.'
'Are they receiving your message?'
'Yes, sir. There's no doubt of that.'
Commander Herdez, occupying her chair on the port side of the bridge, broke in. 'What if their comm suite is down?'
Wakeman scowled. 'Can't we tell them to stop anyway?'
'Yes, sir,' communications replied. 'We can display a visual signal on the bypass system screens. International coding. There's no way they could miss that.'
'Then do it!' Minutes passed, while the distance between the ships shrank further.
'No response, sir.'
'I can see that!' Wakeman pointed at the display. 'He's not maneuvering at all! How can we get his attention?'
'Sir, we can pulse a low-power particle beam off his hull in the same international code. If there's anyone alive on that thing they'll have to hear that. It's like hitting the hull with a hammer.'
'Yes! Good. Do it.' Wakeman had lost his smile, his complexion slowly reddening.
'No response, sir.'
'Damn him! Weapons!'
'Yes, sir.'
'I want a shot across his bow. Make it powerful and make it close!'
'Captain?' Wakeman turned, scowling, at Herdez' voice. 'We're outside the American-claimed area. Use of force at this point-'
'Is justified by our orders! Right, Sinclair?'
Paul spent a fraction of a second lamenting the fate which had placed him in the middle of a debate between the Captain and the XO. 'Sir, our orders allow you to take any action which you deem necessary and appropriate.'
'Yes! You hear that, XO? Firing across their bow is necessary and damn well appropriate, I say. Weapons? Fire when ready.'
'Aye, aye, sir.' A moment later the Michaelson shuddered slightly as she fired a multi-second burst from a high-powered particle beam which ripped through the space only a few kilometers ahead of the SASAL ship.
'Now what?' somebody muttered.
'He's maneuvering, Captain,' Lieutenant Sindh called out. On the visual display, Paul watched the shape of the other ship alter as its thrusters pushed its bow around.
'What the hell's he doing?' Wakeman asked.
'Sir, I can't… he's lit off his main drive.' Projected vectors leaped to life on the maneuvering display.
'He's coming straight at us! Is he trying to ram us?'
'Sir, it's too early to-' Sindh's voice was cut-off by the wail of the collision alarm as it was automatically triggered by the ship's maneuvering systems. 'Disable that alarm! Captain, he's turned toward us and pushed onto a faster intercept. It looks like he's aiming to pass close above us from starboard bow to port stern.'
'Close aboard? How close aboard?'
'Between one and two kilometers, sir.'
'Is he insane?' Wakeman looked around as if seeking confirmation. 'Why would he take that kind of risk?'
As if in answer, Commander Garcia called up from CIC. 'Captain, the SASAL ship's projected course will put it in perfect firing position as it passes close above us. We'd be sitting ducks.'
'What?' Wakeman stared at the display. 'But it's unarmed, right?'
'Captain, we can't confirm that. He's not supposed to be armed.'
Everything seemed to be happening very fast. Paul, hanging silently now, tried to grasp the situation as the SASAL ship moved onto a near-collision course. I never realized how all those months of doing practically no maneuvering made us so unprepared for something like this. All of a sudden we're dealing with another ship nearby and we have to react fast and nobody's used to it. Even Lieutenant Sindh must be seriously out of practice. Paul found himself wishing that Jan Tweed was at the maneuvering controls.
'Weapons! I want you locked on that ship! Communications! Tell him to veer off! What's happening now?
