Providence - Max Barry Page 0,50
down. Nineteen thousand remain.”
“Whoa,” Gilly said. “Nineteen?”
“Nineteen, affirmative.”
“How can there be nineteen? Were they all inside pulse range?” He left the hive composition analysis to check the attack pattern himself. An arc of salamanders sprung up before him, closing toward a small blue dot. He manipulated the field, zooming in.
“Yes.”
“This formation is new. They’re in layers.”
Anders: “Pulsing in ten.”
“They’re shielding each other.”
“From the pulse?” Jackson said.
“Yes. The inner ring takes the brunt of the force. The ones behind are protected.”
“Pulsing,” Anders said.
“What does it mean?”
“It means they’re going to get closer. A lot closer.”
Jackson: “Hostiles down. Minor debris cascade. Seventeen thousand remain.”
“Only two thousand casualties that time? Two?” The destructive power of the pulse increased as the enemy grew closer. Additionally, it was impacting already damaged units. They should have been dying in greater numbers.
“We dialed it down,” Anders said. “Pulsed at only seventy percent.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. Ask the ship.”
He opened his mouth to make a hotheaded reply. Jackson said, “Ship is worried about the bomb.”
That was probably true. The hive bomb was still outside their theoretical pulse range, but a lot about it was unknown. He could understand if the ship wasn’t taking chances. “They’re going to reach huk range.”
“In thirty seconds, yes.”
“Pulsing in ten,” Anders said. “But we’re still dialing down. Fifty percent now, and dropping.”
“Shit,” Gilly said.
“I’m just going to say it,” Anders said. “Manual control?”
“No.” He stared at the shrinking ring of salamanders.
“Pulse is cold,” Anders said. “Ship has disabled it. What’s it doing, Gilly?”
He didn’t answer. They couldn’t know what the ship was doing; that was the point.
Jackson: “We have laser contact in five, yes, Weapons?”
“Yes. Three. Two. One. Firing. All batteries firing.”
On Gilly’s board, lines appeared in the salamander rings. Lasers, punching through their ranks. The ship didn’t normally resort to lasers, since they weren’t very effective when the enemy was spread out. But of course now they weren’t. They were in layers.
Jackson: “Mass casualties. Rising fast. Debris cascade. Scan obscured.”
Beanfield: “Power loss. Noncritical. We’re sucking juice from everywhere.”
Anders: “All batteries still firing.”
The salamander rings broke, fuzzed.
Jackson: “What are you seeing, Intel?”
“What?”
“The cores. Everything look normal to you?”
“Uh . . . everything’s green, yes.”
Anders: “Batteries eighteen through twenty-nine topping out.”
Jackson: “Intel, I want to be absolutely clear on this, you’re seeing no systems change? Nothing at all?”
“Nothing at all.”
Beanfield: “Power levels returning to normal across decks.”
Anders: “Retiring batteries eighteen through twenty-nine.”
“Thank you,” Jackson said. “One or two thousand surviving hostiles, but they’re dropping fast.”
“Banks nine through eighteen retiring. Banks one through eight. All batteries have ceased firing.”
“Reading zero hostiles. But with this much debris, it’ll take a minute to verify. In the meantime, we’re coming up on contact range with the hives.”
“Ship knew what it was doing,” Gilly said. “Had a plan all along.” He felt embarrassed. And worse than that: exposed. He had been trumpeting the ship’s infallibility since he boarded. But apparently he didn’t believe in it as deeply as he’d thought. “I want to apologize for my behavior.”
“No need,” Jackson said. “Hard starboard burn. We’re taking a wide berth of the bomb.”
“Good,” Beanfield said.
“Firing,” Anders said. “Batteries one through four.”
“First hive is down. Second hive. Third. It’s . . . all six initial hives destroyed.”
“Laser batteries returning to stow.”
“That’s it?” Beanfield said.
“Looks like it,” Jackson said. “We’re moving on. Ignoring the bomb.”
“What happened to scouring? Don’t we need to scour, Gilly?”
“It might be too dangerous,” he said. “Could be the ship’s decided it’s not worth the risk to scour.” He felt stupid and outclassed. He had no business