Faith by John Love

Author:John Love
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781597803908
Publisher: Night Shade Books
Published: 2012-01-17T05:00:00+00:00

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For the twenty-sixth time, the weapons core instructed the computers which served it to configure themselves to Attack, SemiManual. A warning harmonic; headup displays; target simulations. Her cover this time was AC-1954, another small asteroid whose destruction took only one beam-firing. Cyr reached Her with nine shots, all of which She held with Her flickerfields, before realising that Her target simulation, the white blip on the screen indicating Her position, had not moved.

At AC-1954, She had stopped running.

Cyr was surprised enough to glance up at Foord, but not enough to stop firing. Fourteen shots, fifteen. What, she wondered as she continued to fire, is She about to do that’s worth this drain on Her?

The same thought had occurred to Foord. “Joser, I expect this is another missile. Check it, please, will you?”

“Already done, Commander. It is a missile. Closing at twenty percent. Details and a visual will be on the screen shortly.”

“And the other missiles?”

“Other missiles, Commander?”

“Other missiles, Joser. Remember? She tries this every third or fourth time. The first one is a diversion for the others, coming in on parabolic courses while the first is on a straight course.”

That speech had taken Cyr up to twenty-three shots.

“I remember, Commander. I’ll find them.”

“Yes, I think you will. She used to run you ragged, but not any more. Perhaps when we have more time”—Foord was dangerously unaware, then, how little they had—“you’ll tell me how you did it.”

Thirty shots. She remained still, Her flickerfields holding the beams.

“Here are the details, Commander. Visual will follow.”

The Bridge screen displayed headups confirming the missile was under remote guidance from Faith, and showed its position and speed: 26-14-19 and closing, at ninety percent.

“Ninety percent!”

“It was twenty—”

“It’s now ninety, Joser. Impact in seventy-nine seconds, it says. Cyr, get it, please.”

(Smithson scowled at the headup display. “Something wrong about that missile,” he hissed at Joser. “It doesn’t need remote guidance. Too fast to manoeuvre, and on a straight course. So why guidance?” Joser shrugged, oddly and mechanically, as though remotely operated. Smithson turned to repeat the question to Foord, then decided not to. Oddly, he never knew why. It was one of his very few bad decisions.)

The long-range gas and semiconductor lasers lanced out at the missile, almost but not quite parallel to the particle beams which Cyr was still stabbing at Faith. The particle beams were malignant dull blue, the lasers brilliant white. The particle beams reached their target, the lasers didn’t. The approaching missile simply avoided them. It flicked to one side, let them pass by, and returned to its course. All at ninety percent.

Smithson swore. “That’s why remote guidance,” he muttered.

Joser’s expression was unreadable, almost shrouded. “Impact in sixty-four seconds.”

The missile was now visible on the Bridge screen—though Joser had omitted to supply local magnification—and the screen generated the usual side, ventral and dorsal images, and, unasked, added magnification: a grey ovoid, about twenty feet long, with no markings or external features. Considering what it had just done, it should not have looked so ordinary.

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