know we are
alone, and a civilian passenger ship.”
“What's the closest they'll get before we can Jump,
Captain?” He assumed they were running to insure that the primary Trap had
ample time to snare a tunneling Jump energy tachyon.
Mirikami grunted and cleared his throat before he answered.
“The two lead missiles will reach us in...,” he looked at his display screen,
“six minutes, twelve seconds. Unless the tachyon Trap beats the probabilities,
we are very unlikely to capture a minimum Jump energy tachyon in time.” It came
out sounding like an apology.
It was a couple of seconds sinking in for Dillon. Something
didn't add up. “I don't understand. Why can't we keep running from them,
stretch out the time to improve our odds?” Reducing acceleration for the Flight
of Fancy now seemed suicidal.
Mirikami shook his head ruefully. “That was my first
instinct, and the reason I made that course change and four g push. Jake ran a
computation for me while we were trying to run. It was hopeless. We can't
significantly counter a two hundred g real rate of acceleration! I could still
buy us a minute or so, but it would drain energy from our secondary Trap faster
than we can expect replacement low energy tacs. We would lose our best
performance maneuvering system once the Trap field was drained, leaving our
fusion generator and limited thruster propulsion. We’d have lasers, but no
plasma beams at all without Trap energy.
“Statistically we won't catch a minimum Jump particle for an
average of another fifteen or so minutes, that's an average, Doctor.
When they close on us, we can't afford to be helpless, without full thrust, or
power for the particle beams and lasers. That's why I stopped running as hard,
to conserve energy since they will surely catch us if we don’t get that miracle
Jump tac.”
Dillon's sat in stunned silence for long seconds. Then “What
happened to our forty-minute warning from Jake, Captain?” It sounded more like
an accusation than a question.
Knowing it was coming didn't make answering the question
easier. Nothing could quell the terrible guilt that consumed Mirikami. His
arrogance and clearly demonstrated ignorance was probably going cost the lives
of his passengers and crew.
He made no excuses. “The fault is mine. Neither our sensors
nor Jake's monitoring are to blame. The missiles were detected and reported to
me at our maximum detection range. My previous military experience told me that
I could stay out of range of any attacker for a good deal longer than the
maximum time it would take to make a Jump. I was wrong! These missiles have
some sort of new propulsion system that permits them to accelerate faster than
anything I thought drive physics would permit.” He shook his head in dismayed
amazement.
“A rocket engine on missiles this size, coming from Newborn,
would have burned their fuel reserves out long ago. These have to be using Trap
Drives. My promise of a forty-minute warning has proven to be worthless. They
will have covered that detection distance in less than 10 minutes, plus the
seconds I gained in trying to get away.
“I ordered the Drive Room crew to retune the primary Trap
for minimum Jump energy just as soon as the threat was detected. When I saw
there was almost no doubt they would catch us before we could Jump, I started
conserving power for a final defense and maneuvering.”
As if waiting for that cue, Jake's ever-calm voice intruded.
“Particle beam plasma in chamber one is optimum; the plasma in chamber two will
reach firing temperature in thirty-nine seconds. LDS one and two remain on
line.”
Mirikami acknowledged, placing his left hand on an armrest
that had extruded where he could reach it without reaching up to his now
overhead console. Dillon observed two covered switches were under the Captain's
hand.
Dillon knew the ship's lasers and particle beams, normally
used to ward off occasional small interplanetary debris, were scaled down
versions
alone, and a civilian passenger ship.”
“What's the closest they'll get before we can Jump,
Captain?” He assumed they were running to insure that the primary Trap had
ample time to snare a tunneling Jump energy tachyon.
Mirikami grunted and cleared his throat before he answered.
“The two lead missiles will reach us in...,” he looked at his display screen,
“six minutes, twelve seconds. Unless the tachyon Trap beats the probabilities,
we are very unlikely to capture a minimum Jump energy tachyon in time.” It came
out sounding like an apology.
It was a couple of seconds sinking in for Dillon. Something
didn't add up. “I don't understand. Why can't we keep running from them,
stretch out the time to improve our odds?” Reducing acceleration for the Flight
of Fancy now seemed suicidal.
Mirikami shook his head ruefully. “That was my first
instinct, and the reason I made that course change and four g push. Jake ran a
computation for me while we were trying to run. It was hopeless. We can't
significantly counter a two hundred g real rate of acceleration! I could still
buy us a minute or so, but it would drain energy from our secondary Trap faster
than we can expect replacement low energy tacs. We would lose our best
performance maneuvering system once the Trap field was drained, leaving our
fusion generator and limited thruster propulsion. We’d have lasers, but no
plasma beams at all without Trap energy.
“Statistically we won't catch a minimum Jump particle for an
average of another fifteen or so minutes, that's an average, Doctor.
When they close on us, we can't afford to be helpless, without full thrust, or
power for the particle beams and lasers. That's why I stopped running as hard,
to conserve energy since they will surely catch us if we don’t get that miracle
Jump tac.”
Dillon's sat in stunned silence for long seconds. Then “What
happened to our forty-minute warning from Jake, Captain?” It sounded more like
an accusation than a question.
Knowing it was coming didn't make answering the question
easier. Nothing could quell the terrible guilt that consumed Mirikami. His
arrogance and clearly demonstrated ignorance was probably going cost the lives
of his passengers and crew.
He made no excuses. “The fault is mine. Neither our sensors
nor Jake's monitoring are to blame. The missiles were detected and reported to
me at our maximum detection range. My previous military experience told me that
I could stay out of range of any attacker for a good deal longer than the
maximum time it would take to make a Jump. I was wrong! These missiles have
some sort of new propulsion system that permits them to accelerate faster than
anything I thought drive physics would permit.” He shook his head in dismayed
amazement.
“A rocket engine on missiles this size, coming from Newborn,
would have burned their fuel reserves out long ago. These have to be using Trap
Drives. My promise of a forty-minute warning has proven to be worthless. They
will have covered that detection distance in less than 10 minutes, plus the
seconds I gained in trying to get away.
“I ordered the Drive Room crew to retune the primary Trap
for minimum Jump energy just as soon as the threat was detected. When I saw
there was almost no doubt they would catch us before we could Jump, I started
conserving power for a final defense and maneuvering.”
As if waiting for that cue, Jake's ever-calm voice intruded.
“Particle beam plasma in chamber one is optimum; the plasma in chamber two will
reach firing temperature in thirty-nine seconds. LDS one and two remain on
line.”
Mirikami acknowledged, placing his left hand on an armrest
that had extruded where he could reach it without reaching up to his now
overhead console. Dillon observed two covered switches were under the Captain's
hand.
Dillon knew the ship's lasers and particle beams, normally
used to ward off occasional small interplanetary debris, were scaled down
versions
Similar Books
