Strength and Honor Read Free Page B

More diversions. Or Augustus destroying the Merrimack.
    “Lockdown not happening, sir,” Systems reported. “I’m showing a command override here.” Nordsen turned to Commander Dent. “Override on Captain Farragut’s authorization.”
    Commander Dent looked venomous. “He wouldn’t. Override that!” Gypsy ordered. “Set force field to adamant.” She pounced on the com, “Captain Farragut, please respond!” And to the com tech, “Why isn’t he answering?”
    “Sir!” the com tech acknowledged. “The captain’s personal com is not registering.” It wasn’t off. It was not registering at all, which meant the captain’s personal com had been damaged or destroyed.
    Farragut’s personal com was implanted in his wrist.
    Gypsy spoke into the loud com. Her voice resounded through the ship: “All hands. All hands. This is the commander. Set Condition Watch One. Siege stations. Siege stations. Hostile in the cargo bay. Secure cargo bay. Eliminate Colonel Augustus.”
    Systems reported, “Striker is clearing the cargo bay. Cargo doors closing.” Just because Augustus was outside the hull did not mean he was free of the ship yet.
    “He is not getting through the force field,” said Gypsy.
    The ship’s force field, rather than her hull, was the ship’s true line of containment, what really stood between the ship’s atmosphere and vacuum. The low-pressure space between the force field and the hull acted as a kind of air lock.
    With the call to siege stations, Merrimack’s gun barrels retracted, and the ship’s force field solidified over the gun-ports and torpedo tubes and missile launchers. Nothing but layered engine vents broke Merrimack’s energy barrier.
    Nevertheless, Nordsen reported, “Force field breach.”
    This could not be happening.
    “Where?” Gypsy demanded, looming over the console. She already knew. “Cargo bay egress. He’s got himself an opening.” Augustus the patterner had found a pattern in Mack’s command codes to let him out.
    “Seal force field!” Gypsy ordered.
    Nordsen attempted to obey even as he voiced concern, “Not sure how good an idea that is, sir. If we manage to trap Augustus in here, can’t he just blow himself up and gut the Mack with him? Hail Caesar and good night Merrimack!”
    Gypsy waved off the objection. “He could have done that by now if that’s all he wanted. Augustus wants out.”
    Once Augustus was outside Merrimack’s force field, then he could still shoot back through the breach and ream Merrimack’s insides out. Gypsy would not allow that. “If he guts us, he’s coming with us. Get that field sealed now.”
    Even if Gypsy had to sacrifice Mack to a Roman suicide, she could not let a Roman patterner in possession of a Striker loose on the galaxy. Because there were bigger targets out there than Merrimack.
    There was the Fort Eisenhower/Fort Roosevelt Shotgun.
    And there was Earth.
    “Striker is clear of force field!”
    “Damn!”
    Nothing to do now but survive him.
    “Seal force field!” Gypsy ordered as someone, probably Marcander Vincent at Tactical, murmured, “He’s going to wax us.” Nordsen reported, shouting with relief, “Force field sealed, aye!”
    Gypsy darted the young systems tech a withering glower to tell him it was a little late.
    She heard the com tech dressing down some baboon on his link, “Stay off the intracom if you don’t have anything to report!”
    Marcander Vincent at Tactical announced, “Striker coming round.”
    Gypsy ordered, “Change field pattern. Random seed.”
    Augustus’ knowledge of Merrimack’s codes would enable him to pierce the constantly changing force field unless Mack jumped to an unexpected point in the pattern.
    The Striker came round.
    And kept going without firing a shot.
    “Striker away!” Marcander Vincent reported, surprised. “All speed.”
    “Track him!” Gypsy ordered. “Mister Vincent, don’t lose him! Helm! Pursue hostile! I want that bastard. Lieutenant Hamilton!