The Deep Dark Well (29 page)

“I don’t plan to be
here for that to happen,” said the admiral.  “I’ll let the
Donut
be our
defense against the Kingdom of Surya heretics.”

“Have the data been
analyzed?” he asked the tactical officer.

“Yes,” said the chief
tactical officer.  “If we can get within the perimeter of the graviton beams,
I’m sure we can enter the station.”

“So you think they have
no other defenses within the graviton beams?”

“No sir.  I believe
they trusted to their fleet of warships to defend the station.  No beam weapons
nor torpedoes came from the
Donut
or its subsidiary stations.”

“Very well,” said the
admiral.  “Let’s go ahead and hit it while we’re out of range of our pursuers.”

*    *    *

“Where the hell did
they go?” yelled Vengeance at the computer display.  He had found the ships of
the intruders just an hour ago, and was making his plans to get to them.  Then
they had started accelerating his way.  And a new group of intruders was on the
way.  The computer had insured him their ships were of a different
configuration than the original intruders.  Enemy?  At least another race, and
maybe not sure of the capabilities of the graviton projectors.

“Alien ships all warped
into space destroying drive,” said the computer.  “Target, the
Donut
. 
It will take a few moments to determine their transition points.”

“Hopefully they will
all enter the hole, and I won’t have to worry about their damned disappearing
drive.  I didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to use such a device this
close into a gravity well.”

“There is a distinct
possibility that several of them will do so,” said the computer.  “As well as a
probability that at least half will survive.”

“I have located several
of the intruder vessels,” continued the computer.

“Show them to me.”

*    *    *

It was very apparent
where one of the vessels went.  It announced itself by trying to occupy the
same space as one of the orbiting fleet vessels.  A mathematical improbability,
it nonetheless happened.  The vessel tried to meld atomic structures with the bigger
vessel, causing the subatomic explosion that lit the sky outside that section
of the
Donut
.  The equivalent of one million tons of antimatter, gamma
rays and fast moving neutrons burned through the outer skin of the station.  It
would have been a disaster if that portion of the station had been inhabited. 
As it was only machinery was shorted out, included one of the redundant memory
cores of the station computer.  Minutes later several pieces of the larger
warship struck the outer skin at high velocity, ripping holes in the structure
and causing shock waves that radiated out in all directions.  Of course the
station had rotated on before the pieces struck, so another region was damaged
by the slower moving masses.

Two of the vessels
materialized near the black hole.  Too near.  One impacted the event horizon
immediately, compressing to degenerate matter as it was pulled through the
ultimate gravitational barrier.  The other was far enough away to survive, for
a few minutes, as its drive fought a losing battle with the pull of gravity. 
It could not use its space destroying drive at that moment in time.  It would
take hours to prep it again.  And it didn’t have hours.  The screams of the
crew came over the airwaves moving out through the system with the distinctive
Doppler shift of an origin near a high gravity source.  Then the ship slipped
over the event horizon, all information from its matter lost to the Universe.

Another ship came out
in too close a trajectory to the black hole.  Not close enough to endanger it
directly.  Its engines fought to change its course, but it swung too close into
a sling shot motion that propelled it outward, away from the
Donut
.  It
would take days for it to change course to come back to the station.  But it
would be under the guns of the graviton beams within minutes.

The remaining seven
vessels made successful transits, looping around the black hole, their engines
pulling them into a perfect orbit within the inner shell of the
Donut
. 
Safe from any defenses the station might still be able to deploy.

*    *    *

“Hold position here,”
ordered the admiral.  “This place is as good as any.”

Orca’s
orbit was just below
that of the inner surface of the
Donut
.  She crept along, all lights
pointed at the structure above her.  Hatches and doorways and protruding pieces
of machinery passed by in their thousands.

“Order the other
vessels to come up on us.”

“That will take about a
half hour,” said the chief tactical officer.  “I don’t know if we should wait
that long.  Whoever is in there will have a lot of time to arrange a welcome.”

“And I don’t want to
land only one ship full of marines,” countered the admiral.  “I would rather
have the combined forces of all our ships.”

“Sir,” said the chief
tactical officer.  “If I may make a suggestion.  The combined forces of our
entire fleet could not take control of that station.  The best we can hope for
is to get aboard, steal some technology, and get the hell out of here.”

“So you suggest landing
the marines immediately?”

“Yes sir.  At least then
we can be assured a foothold on the structure, and feed the rest of the troops
in behind them.”

“Very well,” ordered
the admiral.  “Go ahead and order the marines prepped and inserted.  Your team
of naval ratings ready to go.”

“Yes sir,” said the
chief tactical officer.  “We’ll do our best to bring back some of the good
stuff.”

Gerasi nodded, already
preoccupied with his thoughts.  He had already lost almost half his vessels. 
If he only had the marines from the lost ships he would feel better about the
whole assault.

Chapter 15

Half a league, half a
league, half a league onward.  Into the valley of death rode the five hundred.

The Charge of the Light
Brigade

“What the hell was
that,” cried Pandi as her chair shook under her.  She had been working at this
thing for she didn’t know how long.  And it resisted all of her efforts to
break into the system.

“The station is under
attack,” said the computer.  “All resources are required for the defense of the
station.”

“Access granted,” said
the voice of the local system.

“How did that happen? 
I thought I was locked out tight.”

“Tactical situation
requires extreme measures,” said the station computer.  Somehow it sounded
wrong, confused.  “System resources being rerouted.”

“You must take command
of this local system,” it continued.  “You may proceed to give it your own
access code, as well as any other identifying data you might wish to add to the
security.”

“Great,” said Pandi. 
“But you said the station was under attack.  Who from?  Where are they?”

“Intruders currently
outside of the station,” said the computer.  “Location of eventual penetration
unknown at this time.  Sentient beings required to conduct local defense.”

Pandi thought about it
a second before allowing her mind to link with the local system through her
implant.  She made sure that the station computer was not linked as well,
willing it out of the system.  She still wasn’t sure what was going on, but she
wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass. 

Soon her thoughts were
as one with the local system and she was in total control.  Her eyes were
looking through the system’s eyes, seeing millions of locations at once.  With
a thought she was focusing through just one of the sensors, able to examine the
setting of the closest transport station in microscopic detail.  Or pan back to
take in the whole of it in one swath.

The system memories
became hers.  Too many to take on at one time.  Probably too many to process in
a lifetime.  But there for her use, all open to her scrutiny.

“I need your attention
for a moment,” said the station computer on her helmet system.

“You sound better,” she
said.

“One of my redundant
memory cores was destroyed in the first attack,” said the computer. 
“Fortunately nothing important was lost.”

“Don’t all your cores
contain the same information?  I thought that was the idea behind redundancy.”

“Normally that would be
a correct assumption,” said the computer.  “But some sensitive information is
stored in only one location, so that information can be dumped immediately if
necessary.”

“What kind of
information?”

“There is a high
probability that this region will bear the brunt of the enemy penetration,”
said the computer, ignoring her question.

Pandi tapped back into
the local system, willing a view of the inner surface of the station to
appear.  It was huge, even this small region of the station. 
My home
,
she thought.  Then the view centered on a small vessel.  Small until she got
her sense of scale, and saw that it was the size of a twentieth century
aircraft carrier.  No, bigger.  And a couple of other ships were slowly
crawling into position near her.

One of the ships spat
fire, as lasers and particle beams attacked one of the station access hatches. 
Metal heated, but did not give. 
Stopped the son of bitches
, she
thought, before the twin torpedoes left the ship and slammed into the hatch. 
Her view blanked for a second under the intense white light of antimatter
detonation.

When the view came back
the hatch was gone.  And long launches were leaving the big ship, headed for the
opening.

What are my resources?
  At a thought the
order of battle appeared before her.  Dozens of the heavy combat robots. 
Thousands of the fractuals.  Millions of the standard utility robots, only ten
thousand or so configured for combat, though the others could be used for mass
wave attacks.

But only one of the
combat robots was near to the breach, and a couple of the fractuals.  She could
have a large force there within ten minutes.  But would she have time?  More of
the ships were moving into position, and more of the launches were leaving the
ships.

*    *    *

The launch hovered in
the huge docking space beyond the sundered hatch.  Lasers fired, the only
indication in the vacuum the flaring vapor of the entry hatch leading into the
interior of the station.  The marines disembarked the launch in pairs,
miniature versions of their ships’ drives propelling them the short distance
through the vacuum, covered by the weapons turret under the nose of the
launch.  The first pair fanned out to cover the long hall that was their first
objective, rifles swinging back and forth to point to every nook and cranny in
succession.  The men breathed heavily through their suits, nerves getting the
better of them.  Even in their heavy battle armor they knew they might be dead
in seconds.  Or worse, wounded and left behind.

The second pair came
through behind them, lugging a heavy laser that they set up to cover the
entrance.  The third pair, another set of riflemen, followed and moved down the
hall, taking up positions thirty meters within.  Pair after pair followed,
until the entire platoon of forty-four had entered.

Their launch moved out
of position as another moved in to take its place.  The second platoon followed
the first, leap frogging ahead to penetrate deeper into the station.  They were
followed by a team of naval personnel, organized as a landing party, and the
headquarters and weapons section of the marine company, who followed the second
platoon of marines into the station.  Third platoon came on the last launch.

*    *    *

“The marines are all
aboard,” said the executive officer of marines, Lt. Colonel Mathers, from his
station aboard the
Cachalot
.  The ship was fitted as a landing force
flag, the second in the squadron.  Mathers, the XO of the force regiment, was
the ranking survivor of the expedition.  Colonel Landrue, the Regimental
commander, had died with the other half of the regimental staff when his ship
entered the black hole.

Now the leather-faced
Lt. Colonel sat his command chair in the tactical control room.  The faces of
the two battalion commanders and fourteen company commanders looked out at him
from the screens.  Communications techs sat their stations around the room,
speaking with platoon and squad leaders, keeping the channels open.  Displays on
the status of every marine were on the graphic readouts above the stations.

Mathers’ force was
still formidable, despite the losses of the other units that had not made it. 
Each of the companies fielded 158 officers and men.  With the battalion field
staffs aboard, along with their support units, he had over 2,500 troopers on
the station, with the armed naval landing force of over five hundred men, who
could be called on to fight in a pinch.  But the naval personnel’s mission was
to gather information and pull technology for shipment back to the squadron. 
It was his marines’ mission to protect them.