Claws That Catch

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“I’m a freee-eee bird, yeah!” Weaver sang, then started in on the seemingly unending guitar solo.

“Sir,” Carpenter said, setting down his drumsticks. “Sir, it’s not working!”

The thing about harmonics is that they aren’t nearly as easy as some people make them out to be. Otherwise stadiums would fall down every time there was a rock concert. The harmonic of one material is not the same as the harmonic of another material. Two materials in juncture tend to damp the harmonic effect unless there is a chord that has the destructive harmonic for both. With more materials, the harmonics become more complex.

Shattering a wineglass is easy. Shattering a wooden bridge given a small unit of marchers isn’t that tough. Shattering a space ship, especially an organic one, is much, much harder.

“This station has so much power, there has to be a way to stop these bastards,” Weaver shouted, tearing off his guitar and preparing to sling it across the room.

“Maybe we’re going at this the wrong way,” Miriam said, holding up her hand placatingly. “If you promise to never subject me to ‘Freebird’ again, I’ll explain.”

“Go ahead,” Bill replied. “But after four straight hours of that Goth and heavy metal chither, I needed some real music.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I should make you add the entire repertoire of Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, .38 Special and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, most of whom I had never heard of before today and hope to never hear of again,” Miriam said. “But I’ll hold it at ‘Freebird.’ ”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Weaver asked.

“Do you really think that somebody went to all the trouble of making something that could fluoresce gas giants and that’s all it does?” Miriam asked, waving at the window. The space beyond was now a mass of gaseous particles that could hardly be called vacuum. Oh, even if a being breathed hydrogen, argon or methane it wasn’t going to be breathable. But it was thick enough to see without the fluorescence and stretched vertically across five degrees of view. “There are over a thousand points on this Tree. The dragonflies reported that the power was coming from the points. So you think it only fires at the gas giants and only from four of them? Chosen at random?”

“Chosen from whichever is pointed at the Jovians,” Weaver said. “But go on.”

“There’s a wall of gas out there,” Miriam said. “If you could hit it with other beams, it’s going to improve the show, yes or no?”

“Yes,” Weaver said. “But the only beams…”

“Because we haven’t figured out how to get the rest to fire,” Miriam interrupted.

“That Dreen fleet is headed this way while you’re talking,” Bill said, waving at the transparent walls and the icons of the Dreen ships. “Could you get to the point?”

“That’s the point,” Miriam said. “There has to be a way to get the other beams to work.”

“They could have used any control method, ma’am,” PO Carpenter pointed out. “If somebody from, say, 1950 tried to use most of the stuff in my apartment they wouldn’t be able to. They’d need the implant stuck in my head or one like it.”

“Implants are a transitional technology,” Miriam said. “Do you use an implant to run a grav-board? Do the Cheerick use an implant to fly their dragonflies?”

“You’re saying this thing could work by telepathy?” Bill asked. “Why would it work for us? We’re not the race that built it.”

“We’re not the race that built the boards,” Miriam pointed out. “I frankly doubt that only one race used this system. It’s worth a shot.”

“Okay,” Weaver said, plucking a chord on his guitar. “Let’s all think about invisible energy beams destroying those ships. ‘Mountain High, Valley Low’?”

“Is that Lynyrd Skynyrd?” Miriam asked dangerously.

“Actually, it was a joke,” Bill said. “Your idea. You lead.”

“Conn, CIC.”

“Go, CIC,” Prael said, watching the blue star swell on the main viewer. More than two light-days away it was still a dot, but at the speed of the Blade they were going to be on it in… What the hell?

“We’re getting strange emissions from the star, Conn,” CIC reported. “Changes in stellar output… Uh…”

“CIC, if you’ll look on your viewers you’ll see that the star just winked… What the… ?”

The star had simply disappeared on the viewer for a few seconds, then reappeared. It couldn’t have been the viewer; stars in the background were still rock solid.

“All stop,” Prael said as the star winked out again. “Damnit. What the hell is going on?”

“Conn, we’re getting lots of strange readings from that solar system,” CIC said, almost plaintively. “Frankly, we can’t make anything out of it. One of our systems is saying that the star is in preliminary nova stage, sir. Another disagrees and says that it’s simply ceased fusing, reasons unknown.”

“Damn,” the CO said. “There’s only one way to find out. Pilot.”

“Sir?”

“If that thing goes nova, get us the hell out of here before I order it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Engage.”

“Conn, CIC.”

“Go, CIC.”

“Uh… Sir, you’d better come down here.”

“I can see what you’re seeing from up here,” the CO said with a sigh. “What is causing the gas giants to flash on and off like lightbulbs?”

“Conn… CO to CIC, please…”

“Beams of what?”

“Lots of secondary output, sir,” the TACO said, pointing to the particle sensors. The CO noticed that it was his erstwhile canary manning the board. “They appear to be beams of energy high in the EM spectrum. The effect is to transfer energy to the gasses in the Jovians causing them to fluoresce. I’m not sure of the reason, sir…”

“Well, among other things it’s pretty,” the CO said dryly. “What happened to the star?”

“We’re less sure what’s going on there, sir,” White admitted. “But the current theory…”

“Dreen emission detected,” the sensor tech said calmly. “Multiple Dreen unreality translations. We’re getting them in rapid sequence because of our approach, sir, but the count is over sixty Dreen warships… Numbers and types coming up on the screen now, sir.”

The CO was glad that the need for seamen to laboriously write in the details of ships on clear glass screens was a thing of the past. Because he’d have to get half the crew in here, give them classes…

“Well… That’s a hell of a thing.”

“Sierras One through Eight are things we’ve never seen before,” the TACO said musingly. People reacted differently to disasters. Some panicked. Some became very calm. The tactical officer’s reaction was clearly to become severely academic, not the worst of reactions for that sort of position. “The Hexosehr had, though. Sierra One is a Dreen brain-ship. Ten kilometers long, heavy weapons to size. They’re considered worthy of a small fleet of Chaos ships on their own; their plasma guns and mass drivers can take out a Chaos ship at beyond even capital ship’s range. Figure with us they’ll be an increasing threat from five light-seconds out. Worse as we get closer, of course. The next seven are superdreadnoughts…”

The CO listened to it all but on another level he was drowning it out. There was no way for the Blade to take on even a fraction of this force. They mounted popguns compared to even the medium class ships in the Dreen fleet. Their most effective technique, dropping mines on the unreality node, was already moot. The Dreen were in the system.

“…Maneuvering to avoid the beams…”

“Run that one by me again,” the CO said.

“The beams from the Tree apparently took out part of the putative boarding force, sir,” the TACO said, gesturing to that part of the replay. “That was before they’d boarded. The fleet, however, is now maneuvering to avoid the beams.”

“Accident?” the CO asked.

“Since we don’t know what is causing the effect, sir, that would be my first guess,” the TACO said.

“Somebody,” the CO said, “and I’ll give you two guesses who it was, toss a coin, pressed the wrong button.”

“Or the right button, depending on your point of view, sir,” the TACO said diffidently. “The Tree did manage to take out some of the Dreen ships.”

“Point.”

“We have sufficient time to reach the Tree and extract any survivors. That assumes the Dreen have not taken the entire station and that the survivors can reach the ship. We may not even be able to contact them. However, in its current configuration, approach will be… interesting.”

“How much time?” the CO asked.

“Assuming that there is not another speed run by the boarding ships, six hours,” the TACO said. “That is the point at which the Dreen, assuming deceleration time, will be within six light-seconds of the Tree. We’ll have to maneuver to avoid them, in real space, as they approach. There is a danger from fighters…”

“That’s enough time,” Prael snapped. “I’ll be on the Conn. Contact me if there are any changes.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“ ‘And if the paths that I have followed have tread against the flow,’ ” Miriam sang, “ ‘there is no need for sorrow I am coming home…’ There! There!”

“What?” Weaver asked, placing his hands on the strings of the guitar. “Where?”

“I saw it,” Carpenter said. “Like a figure eight between Xenon and Helium.”

“Yes!” Miriam said. “Let’s try that again. From the top…”

“Wait,” Weaver said, looking at the screens. “There’s a new ship inbound… Fast. Blade’s here.”

“ ‘I have tasted the wisdom of divinity and the horrors of its sting…’ ” Berg whispered.

“Sir, the XO reports that the Blade is on its way in,” Gunny Juda said. His armor was blackened from the plasma fire but if it bothered him it wasn’t obvious.

“Acknowledged,” Berg said. Lieutenant Mendel had been lost in the running battle in the corridors when the Dreen had gotten a force around his platoon. The remainder of the platoon had fought its way out, with other casualties, so the CO had reconfigured the platoons. Berg now led the reconsolidated Second Platoon, consisting of the survivors from First and Second, while Greg Morris still had Third. Gunny Brunswick, the Third Platoon sergeant, had also been lost, so Gunny Vankleuren from First had taken the slot.

“Second,” Captain Zanella said. “Prepare for extraction. Third is going to cover the noncombatants; your job is to make sure the corridors are clear and make contact with the ship.”

“I’ll try to find a broom, sir,” Berg replied.

“What the hell?” Prael said as the Blade screamed in at almost four thousand times the speed of light. “What in the hell is that noise?”

“That would be the song ‘Return’ by the band Crüxshadows, sir,” the COB said. “A Goth band based in Tallahassee, Florida, it first hit the major charts with the song ‘Sophia’ in — ”

“Okay, COB, if you’re so smart,” the CO snapped. “Explain to me how we’re hearing it in space!”

“Got me there, sir.”

“Approaching warp-denial field,” the pilot said.

“Slow to normal space drive,” the CO said. “Flank speed to the shield. Damn… This means…”

“We’ve managed to get secondary output from the system, Captain Prael,” Weaver said, taking a puff off of his pipe. “We really should try to hold the Tree. (Puff, puff) It’s a major resource, both technically and militarily. Fascinating. Really…” (Puff.)

With the Blade back in the field of the Tree, the “anime zone” had reestablished. It looked to be a permanent issue.

“Mr. Weaver!” the CO barked. “There Are! Sixty! Dreen warships! Approaching! This Space station!”

“Fifty-eight,” (puff, puff). “Sixty-one originally. We got three. And with the secondary output system working, well… we can get more.”

“You are Basing this On Fantasy!” the CO shouted, looming over the XO. “This Is My Decision! We Are! Evacuating! Then we shall DESTROY this installation,” he added, rubbing his hands together. “The Dreen Will Never Have It! I Swear On the Blood Of Our Fathers!”

“Not so sure (puff, puff) that’s possible. Bits of it have been hit by Dreen plasma, you know? (Puff… ponder… puff.) Not sure a nuke (puff) would so much as scratch it. And if the Dreen capture it, well… (puff, puff, grin, puff) Wouldn’t want to be the feller explaining that one, by God I wouldn’t.” (Puff, grin, puff.)

“Do you think that SpaceCom would be upset?” the CO said, shrinking to normal size and suddenly wearing glasses. He’d also developed a stoop and was rubbing his hands together like a squirrel. “Really?”

“Did… (puff, puff) Did Spruance run at Midway?”

“No!” the CO said, swelling back to his monstrous size and placing his hand on his chest.

“Did Dewey (puff… puff) turn away from the Spanish Fleet?”

“He wasn’t outnumbered a thousand to one,” Prael said, suddenly nearly normal in appearance. “The brain-ship alone outmasses us by more than that.”

“Still,” Weaver said, puffing away and filling the compartment with smoke. “Fight the effect, Captain, but think… (Puff, puff, point stem at the CO) This station is a monumental victory (puff, puff) or an enormous defeat. Holding it could (puff) turn the tide of the war. Losing it (puff, puff… ponder) If the Dreen can learn to control stars?”

“We Cannot Defeat That Fleet!” the CO said, back in anime form.

“The Tree (puff, puff) can. Blood of my fathers and all that. Just (puff… ponder… puff) keep the boarders off if you can, would you be a dear?”

“If It! Is Falling! It Must! Be Destroyed!”

“Oh, I rather think, yes,” Weaver said, setting his pipe down. “Special munition?”

“The Largest We Have!” the CO said, nodding and holding out his hand. “The Megadestroyer Bomb! That Will Destroy A Star! We will evacuate the noncombatants. Good luck, Mr. Weaver!”

“Oh, one ‘noncombatant’ (puff, puff) will have to stay.”

“Who?!”

“Sou da ne bokura atarashii jidai wo!” Miriam shrilled, boucing in front of her keyboard. “Mukaete mitai ne kisekiteki ka mo ne!”

“Nooo!” the chimpanzee behind the drum set screamed, nonetheless banging away for all he was worth. “Not J-pop!”

“Load Mine Tubes!” the CO barked as the Blade made its way around the Tree and into the shadows. “Deploy All Mines As We Clear The Field!”

“Deploy All Mines!” the COB shouted. “Arrrrrh! We’ll blow them to smithereens so we will! We shall sail under the Black Flag and space shall be our empire, shiver me bones!”

“Not Until We Clear The Field! You Imbecile!”

“You hurts me with those words, Cap’n…”

“Put Yourself! On Report!”

“Am I still supposed to put myself on report, CO?” the COB asked.

“No, but we’re still dropping mines. Just as soon as we modify them a little.”

“It’ll be okay,” Weaver said, uncomfortably patting the linguist on the shoulder. “Seriously. Nobody will know.”

“You could hear it through the entire solar system!” Miriam screamed. “And the Blade records EVERYTHING! Oh My God. My reputation is so ruined. I’m going to have… otaku!”

“Hey, I was a chimpanzee for God’s sake,” Carpenter said. “And what are… Oh-ta-… whatever.”

“Anime fans,” Bill said darkly.

“Oh. Them.”

“She was playing J-pop!” Gants said, bouncing on the deck and waving his arms over his head like a monkey. Some people took longer to get over the effects of the field than others. “Sou da ne bokura atarashii jidai wo!”

“Jesus, man,” Red snapped. “Get ahold of yourself. You’re embarassing me.”