Bio-Weapon - Doom Star 02 by Vaughn Heppner

Author:Vaughn Heppner
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
Published: 2010-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

8.

Admiral Rica Sioux wore a spotless tan uniform, with a glittering row of medals. A snug, tan military cap hid her hair. She swiveled in the command chair, with a comlink embedded in her right ear and a VR-monocle over her left eye.

Everyone else on the command capsule wore a stiff, tan uniform of the Social Unity Space Fleet. Most were webbed into their modules, with VR-goggles and twitch-gloves. A clean odor filled the capsule, while brisk movement and sharply spoken words added to the military bearing. The transformation in the past eleven days had taken hold throughout the entire ship.

Admiral Sioux shifted anxiously. Short, swift, gratifying days with command briefings, inspections and practice drills had changed a sluggish, orbital-sick crew into eager warriors. Not even the flock of blips picked up by tracking had been able to check this impulse.

It was too bad about the early radar probe and the subsequent missile launches. Enemy jamming kept them in the dark about the exact nature of the incoming missiles. To warm up their own ECM pods to try to defeat the enemy sensors would give away their exact position. No. Long-distance beam shots out of the dark were the Bangladesh’s MO. The spread of enemy missiles proved the Highborn hadn’t spotted them again… unless they had done so optically. In any case, it would take over a week for the missiles to get close enough to fire any missile-borne lasers—if they even packed lasers.

Unless—she tapped her armrest—unless the very spread of missiles was a bluff! Admiral Sioux frowned, creasing her face full of wrinkles. Maybe the Highborn had spread the missiles to try to fool me. Maybe they track us with a hidden, secret ship of their own.

Admiral Sioux sipped from a sealed cup. It was a special medicated drink that smelled like coffee. This way only the medical officer knew that she was taking drugs to help calm her nerves.

Why did she have to worry so much? She hated it.

The First Gunner broke into her reverie, saying, “Entering firing range… now.”

Admiral Sioux savored the moment. Now! The Bangladesh was intact. Despite her fears, the Highborn could surely have no idea about what was to commence. 30 million kilometers was a short distance in space terms, but in terms of Solar System warfare, it was a revolution.

“Rotate the particle shield aft thirty degrees,” she said.

“Aft thirty degrees,” said the Shield Tech.

Outside the massive beamship, the huge 600-meter thick shield of rock and metal lifted as if a man lifted a visor on a helmet.

“Focus the projectors,” said Admiral Sioux.

“Projectors focused. Projectors in firing position,” said the First Gunner, his supple fingers flying over his control board.

A vast section slid open on the inner armored skin of the Bangladesh. A squat nozzle poked out, a green light winking in its orifice.

“Engage power,” Admiral Sioux said.

“Proton Beam power on,” the Power Chief said.

“Target acquired,” the First Gunner said.

Admiral Rica Sioux smiled thinly. She and ship’s AI had already chosen the targets ten days ago.

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