If DSS Minstrel had been an animal, the fur on her back would have been bristling and her teeth would have been bared. Captain Islington had ordered her ship into a tacking orbit deep in the gravity well of Bayone Three. This put her sensors and scanners in a position to “peek” over the edge of the planet’s terminator without giving away their position.
What they saw had the angry little ship on high alert. They were trailing Argent’s orbit. The much larger capital vessel was in a standard track at roughly 190 miles altitude. What was confusing to the Minstrel signals section was the fact it wasn’t recording standard emissions from the vessel’s engines or defensive systems. From where Minstrel was sitting, the ship looked as if it were largely powered down or disabled. But even that wasn’t the real problem.
Parked only a couple thousand yards off Argent’s starboard quarter were two unidentified destroyer-class vessels apparently fitted with long-range energy batteries. Their appearance came as a shock to Minstrel’s crew, as any potentially hostile ship that close to a Citadel-class vessel would normally have been ripped to shreds by her point defense. By all appearances, Argent apparently hadn’t fired a shot. At least not yet.
“What the hell is going on?” Islington said in an urgent low tone.
“Those ships don’t have standard hull configurations but I’d say there’s a 70% chance they are operating Sarn-built engines, ma’am,” Ensign Grant reported quietly. “Shall I attempt to raise the Argent?”
“Negative.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, she may be disabled and not be aware those ships are there.”
“If we transmit, they’ll come after us. Two Sarn destroyers are way over our head, Ensign. No signals until further orders. Clear?”
“Clear, ma’am.” Grant sat back in his shock couch. He wanted to do something to help their fleet mate, but he realized his captain was right. Minstrel could observe, but her tactical options were limited. She just didn’t have the tonnage or the firepower to engage attack destroyers, especially in numbers. The hull configurations they were looking at were designed for running firefights, and while Islington’s ship was more than capable of defending herself, fast destroyers with these weapon loadouts were generally designed to kill ships in Minstrel’s class. Granted, the Perseus escort frigate had a formidable crew and more than her fair share of strengths, but long-range energy batteries vs. anti-ship missile racks put the missile-armed ship at an incredible disadvantage, even one on one and especially at short ranges. Two against one would be suicide.
“Cal, catalog those two contacts and designate hostile. Start a tape. I want a gravitic baseline.”
“Ma’am?”
Islington looked back at the tactical station. “If we get an aspect change, I want the battle computer to alert us as soon as possible so we can evade.”
“Aye ma’am.” Grant didn’t want to let on he hadn’t even thought of that, so he kept his head down and lined up his sensors on the enemy formation’s emissions.
“Helm at station keeping, Finn. Keep those engines nice and quiet.”
“Aye.”
Minstrel hovered in space only a few miles above the Bayone Three exosphere.
“Ma’am!” Meier said quietly but urgently.
“Gravitic emissions now 14% over amplitude. Possible aspect change hostile target Kilowatt Alpha Three,” Grant reported, steadily watching his readings.
“Back us off, pilot. Nice and smooth.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Minstrel slid away, ducking behind the planet’s atmosphere as the first destroyer pivoted in space and began to move away from Argent. The second followed, maintaining formation. Moments later, each ship established a drive field and kicked its cruising engines up to speed. Within 30 seconds, they were gone.
Islington unlatched her shock harness. “XO, you have the conn. Cal, notify security I want a heavily armed boarding party in the boat bay in five minutes. Full armor and decompression protocols. Engineering.”
The intraship channel clicked over.
“Engineering, Brogan.”
“Sean, I need someone who can show me about Argent.”
“Aye, ma’am. I’ll be ready in one minute.”
“I’d rather not take my top guy, Chief. You might be needed here.”
“My team can mind the store, ma’am. Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”
“Very well. Bring your crash gear. Bridge out.”
“Due respect, ma’am, what do you think you’re doing?” Meier asked as he moved to at least look like he was blocking Islington’s exit from her bridge.
“We’re going to board Argent. I want to know what’s going on over there, and with those destroyers lurking around we can’t risk a transmission.”
“Regulations state a Skywatch fleet commanding officer may not enter a hostile area except in defense of his or her own ship.”
“That’s nice.” The captain checked her sidearm, then holstered it. Although Hollis Meier and his captain were both ostensibly the same rank, Islington had the center chair. They locked gazes. “You can make a log entry if you want, XO. My command. My regulations.”
“I’ll hold off for now, captain.” Meier smiled the smile of a man with few choices. “What are my orders?”
“If you encounter hostiles, run like a botched robbery.”
“What about your landing party?”