The Contest (Part 3)

Month 9 Day 9

(Shore Leave Day 10)

1410 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

The Samson stopped lagging behind and seemed to come willingly. Bugalu added speed and put the Firebrand into a corkscrew orbit around the cargo ship, changing the size of the corkscrew at irregular intervals. Now he could take an occasional moment to aim and fire a gun himself, though he wasn’t sure he actually hit anything.

“Shields, 70%” YD stated.

“On it.” Mac stood up, flipped a couple buttons, opened up one of the top-side panels and began working inside.

Bugalu noticed a yellow light go orange. “We’ve had several hits at decks 9 & 10, NNW. Shields there are at 25%”

“On it,” Mac acknowledged, and kept doing what she was doing.

“Getting reports of minor injuries,” Beth reported. “Nothing that won’t wait. More ships are approaching, mostly in groups, but there’s 2 single ships approaching at high speed. One appears to be Scissan and the other hotheads.”

“How many crew on the Scissan?” Mac asked.

“Ummmm, over 50,” Beth answered.

“Doesn’t sound right. A typical Scissan ship holds 5 or less,” Mac stated, and finished what she was doing, started something else.

The orange light on Bugalu’s console turned bright green, but the other lights depicting the shields went dark. “What happened to the shields?”

“If I did it right, I boosted them,” Mac answered. “Now, I wonder what this knot of wiring is supposed to do?”

“She did what?” Smythe asked in the other room.

“Mr Smythe, I need more power!” Burke snapped at him.

Bugalu slipped his ship east to avoid an incoming shot. “Mac, I’ve got 1 green light on my shields display and the rest went dark!”

“I didn’t want to burn the lights out, but they should come back on when the shields get down to their usual 100%.”

“How much did you boost them?”

“75%. I think. That green light is where they were down to 25%, right?”

“Right.”

“Then maybe I’ve done it right.”

“How much more could you boost them?”

“Don’t know. I’m working mostly by guesswork.”

I doubt that. She must have studied even more than I’m aware of. “Beth, how many hotheads in that individual ship?”

“Supposedly, 500.”

Doesn’t sound like hotheads; their crews are usually a dozen or less, because they can’t get along among themselves. And they have a larger group of fighters by having a group of ships, instead of only one. So one of these singles is probably the captain’s team, disguised so we won’t recognize them. Guess I’ll have to play it by ear. “Mac, can we jam communications between these ships?”

“What?” She pulled her attention out of the interior of her console, if not her hands. “Sure, let’s do that.” Both of her hands emerged and flashed across her console. “Any particular group, or all of them?”

“Everybody you can reach.”

“You got it.” She flipped a switch and went back to inspecting the innards of her console.

Something is wrong. This is too easy. He studied his console, but found nothing except the dark shield lights that apparently meant everything was good there. A slight shiver in his chair brought his eyes to the screen, where he caught the tail-end of an expanding dispersal of an energy bolt in the shield. That doesn’t seem as large as it should be. Even with shields at full power, a hit should have sent a grumble through the entire ship.

Well, if this doesn’t show Mac – and Smythe – that she belongs in engineering, I can’t image what will.

Just to be safe, he rolled the Firebrand 180 degrees. Since his ship was fairly cylindrical, maybe his opponents wouldn’t realize his shields’ ‘tender’ spot had moved. Or maybe its new position would make it more difficult for them to hit. If they even realize we have one. Or would have, if Mac hadn’t augmented the shields somehow.

“Mac, I’m losing power in sick bay,” Beth stated. “I mean, I don’t have any patients yet, but… Oh, even life support is effected.”

“I’m tapping the engines pretty hard,” Mac returned, and turned to him. “Bugsy, how long do these games last?”

“As long as they need to,” he answered. “How long can we do without life support, Beth?”

“In the heat of battle? 2 or 3 hours, although it might get stuffy and chilly.”

“Mac, how good a grip do we have on the Samson?”

“As good as I can make it. As long as you don’t try to double our speed in under a minute…”

“Noted.” He studied his screen for a few seconds. The hothead and pirate groups were engaging each other. The 2 individual ships were mixed in, with several others sitting on the edges. It seemed like only nominal attention was being given to the Firebrand and Samson. “Seal all windows and dim interior lights by 50%. Shut off all exterior lights and life support. Keep the tractor beam and the shields strong, but give me as much speed as you can. Oh, and keep the jamming going, but fade it out over the course of 5 minutes. Got all that?”

“On it,” Mac confirmed, her hands already flying over her console. The lights dimmed. “Ready.”

“Let’s go,” Bugalu told his team, and pushed the Firebrand faster. How long before our opponents realize I’ve left?

The center of his screen showed only stars and asteroids. The scavengers were slowly sliding to the sides of the screen, and therefore being left behind. They were engrossed in fighting over the prize, and possibly didn’t realize the prize was moving away. Hope I can get up to a speed they can’t match before they decide to follow.

One ship was blasting away at any and all of the other ships. It was taking a few hits, but it kept flipping and rolling, changing position and speed so often, the chances that any one section of shield becoming fragile were practically nil. “Who are they?”

“Sensors say that’s the Scissan ship,” Beth offered.

“Captain?” YD offered.

Of course! An individual ship that somehow presented itself as a too-large ship of Scissans. Did their team do that, or is it part of the game?

The battle was behind them. Some ships decided they’d had enough and took off, but other small groups were still coming, eager to see what they could commandeer. The captain’s ship intercepted a trio that had decided to follow the Firebrand and engaged them. Bugalu pushed for more speed.

“Bugs, the engines...” Mac began softly.

“How long can you give me?”

“I don’t know. Minutes. Maybe.”

“Make them last as long as you can. We’ve got to get away. You turned off the jamming, right?” He turned the ship to run closer to a large asteroid. A dwarf planet, probably, it’s the right size.

“Jamming, jamming,” Mac was muttering to herself, and quickly studied every inch of her console. “Right. That’s off.”

Hope this works. “All crew members, hang on!” Bugalu torched all the maneuvering jets on his west side to slam his ship - and the tractored cargo ship - behind the dwarf planet. The Samson’s mass sent the 2 connected ships into a lop-sided twirl around each other. Between this and the corkscrew orbit, if they do find us, they’ll have a hard time targeting us. But I hope they don’t find us.

He couldn’t think in directions anymore; all he could do was keep his half-planned route in mind and guide the ship [Two ships, not just one. Got to keep that in mind.] for the next asteroid to hide behind for a few seconds. In this way, he hoped to put distance and several asteroids between him and all those other ships.