Somebody tell me what's happening now!'
'Ten minutes to closest point of approach,' Lieutenant Sindh announced. After months of having the luxury of long periods to plan maneuvers, they were now faced with less than ten minutes to act. On the display, the SASAL ship seemed to be closing on them with shocking speed.
'I need options, people! What's he doing?'
Commander Herdez spoke firmly over the growing tension on the bridge. 'So far, the SASAL ship has displayed a pattern of taunting us. It is reasonable to assume this is another attempt to discomfort us.'
'Reasonable?' Wakeman switched his gaze rapidly from Herdez to the displays. 'I don't-'
'Eight minutes to CPA, Captain.'
Garcia came back on. 'Recommend maneuvering immediately to complicate his firing solution, Captain.'
'Firing solution? He's not armed. Is he armed?'
'Sir, we don't know. He's on a perfect firing approach.'
'We can detect if he's charging weapons! Right? Right?'
'Yes, sir,' Garcia answered. 'But we haven't-Sir, my watch says they just detected a transient.'
'A transient?'
'Yes, sir. It could have been caused by a power surge leaking past a well-shielded weapon-'
Herdez spoke again. 'Is that the only possible explanation?'
'No, ma'am.'
'What does the combat system evaluate the transient as?'
'Ma'am, it, uh, doesn't seem to-There's another one. I've got another watch stander reporting a transient detection.'
Herdez looked at Wakeman across the bridge. 'Captain, I don't trust-' The collision alarm wailed again. 'Secure that alarm!'
'Five minutes to CPA, Captain. Combat recommends immediate maneuvers.'
Wakeman was staring at the display, then, like Paul had earlier, switched his gaze to look at the bulkhead in front of him and just above his head where the SASAL ship would be visible if there were a porthole there. 'He's on a firing run.'
'Captain?'
'The bastard's on a firing run. He's got concealed weapons. We detected them powering up. He lured us out of the American area and got us to fire that warning shot first so he could claim self-defense and now he's going to pass close above us and fire into us. Weapons.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
'Are you locked on?'
'Every weapon that will bear on the target, sir.'
Paul, watching the situation spin out of control but unable to imagine any way to intervene, wondered briefly at what point the SASAL spacecraft had changed from a ship to a target.
'Three minutes to CPA, Captain.'
'Too close! Too damn close already! Fire at will!'
'Captain?'
'Open fire, dammit! All weapons! Kill that bastard!'
'Open fire, aye.'
The lights dimmed as the Michaelson 's battery of energy weapons discharged and recharged repeatedly. Material weapons created debris and shrapnel which in space would be an endless source of peril to other ships. Particle beams and lasers evaporated their points of impact, spearing through obstacles and creating holes in vital equipment of all kinds, as well as any humans unfortunate enough to be in the way. Paul imagined he could see the SASAL ship staggering as invisible demons ripped through it from stem to stern. Lacking the sort of water blanket the Michaelson boasted, which wasn't cost-effective on civilian ships, the SASAL ship was helpless before the onslaught. Atmosphere and vaporized fluids vented from dozens of places, causing the stricken ship to wobble in its course as the escaping jets pushed it erratically.
'Officer of the Deck!' Herdez snapped. 'Immediate evasive action. Get us down and clear.'
'Aye, aye, ma'am.' Sindh, who like everyone else but Herdez had been focused on the damage being done to the SASAL ship, frantically slapped the thruster controls, pushing the Michaelson down and away from the threat of collision as the other craft staggered past overhead.
Paul blinked in the sudden silence. Everyone was watching the display, where the riddled hulk that had once been a living ship continued on its course past the Michaelson and on into empty space. After literally weeks of preparation and hours of tension, the combat had taken only a couple of minutes.
'Officer of the Deck.' Herdez spoke now with her habitual calm and control. 'Plot an intercept of that hulk.' She looked toward Captain Wakeman, who was staring at the display as if uncomprehending. 'We will need to board the wreckage.'
Wakeman focused on her, his eyes wide. 'Board it?'
'To determine if there are survivors. And to find evidence of the weapons they were carrying.'
'Right. Evidence. OOD, get that course plotted.'
'Aye, aye, Captain.'
Paul squinted at the display near his seat in the Michaelson 's gig. The hulk that had been a SASAL ship had long since ceased venting material, using up whatever had been onboard during the days the Michaelson spent bringing her mass around and accelerating on another vector to cautiously reintercept the wreck. Captain Wakeman had spent a good part of that period crafting and recrafting a message reporting on the incident and his certainty that he had saved the Michaelson from destruction by a ship which had planned its attack for months.
The final portion had been nerve-wracking to Paul, who had been on watch as the Michaelson matched course and speed precisely to the hulk so that the crafts hung motionless relative to each other even though they were hurtling through space at high velocity. 'At least we know he's not going to pull any last minute maneuvers this time,' Lieutenant Tweed had observed dispassionately.
Now, as the gig drew closer, Paul could tell Lieutenant Tweed had been, if anything, understating things. There'd been no sign of life on the SASAL ship since it had been riddled by the Michaelson, and the amount of damage Paul could easily see explained that all too well.
Paul glanced over at Sheriff Sharpe. As the ship's legal team, they'd been tapped to assist in the boarding and inspection of the wreck. Sharpe looked back, then smiled grimly. 'Sir, if I may offer a small bit of advice, when we get on board that thing, I wouldn't look at stuff too close.'
'Excuse me? That's why we're boarding it. Us and the rest of the boarding party. To look at stuff.'
'Sir, I've assisted in some pretty unpleasant crime scene investigations in my time. I'm just suggesting not looking too close at certain things. That's all. You'll understand.'
Soon enough, Paul did. While the chief engineer of the Michaelson led a group through the wreck searching for its concealed weaponry, Paul and Sharpe were ordered to find the captain's quarters and search it for records or orders which might provide further evidence of ill intent.
His progress through the wreck seemed dreamlike, floating through silence and darkness lit only by the areas his survival suit light fell upon or those spots where openings torn in the ship let through solid splashes of sunlight. The lack of atmosphere inside the wreck meant that none of the light spread in any way, so a location would be either brightly lit or totally dark. Paul set his suit light to its widest beam and moved cautiously, fearing jagged edges that might rip his spacesuit, but the energy weapons that had savaged the SASAL ship had left absurdly precise holes. Only where the ship's own equipment had flared or burst in its death throes did any torn surfaces exist.
They found the first body floating not far from their entry point. The wound on it caused from being nicked by one of the Michaelson 's powerful energy weapons was absurdly clean and smooth, instantly cauterized even as it was inflicted. The rest of the body, however, had nothing clean about it. 'Oh, God.' Paul looked away hastily. I've never actually seen a human body subjected to explosive decompression before. Now I know what the Sheriff meant when he said not to look too close. He couldn't throw up, not in a suit, so he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, fighting down nausea.
