Chocolate
2020-12-28
The paper crinkled softly as he eased it from around the chocolate wafer. The rich brown surface, cold and smooth to his touch, stiffly minty to his nose. An explosion of sugars, fats and esters on his tongue.
A feast for the senses.
The SDCS beeped. "250000 KM TO TARGET SORD. INSERTION 14.73 MINUTES."
The tiny ship was moving at a stupifying rate of speed. Almost 300 kilometres per second. And this was /slow/ nearspace maneuvering. Nothing at all compared to the dizzying speeds possible in the space-not-space of the Sord.
The rich taste of the chocolate filled his tongue, his mouth, his sinuses. A fit reward for a job well done.
The course was locked in. Checked and verified from the last encrypted broadcast. His rendezvous with the Fleet. There was no way they could stop him now.
The SDCS lost its mind. Flashing lights, hooting alerts. A thick red bar branded the air in front of him. "THREAT"
He nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise. His hands flew for the interface, snapping switches and punching buttons. Finding the contours of the extremely bad news.
The Koams had picketed the Sord! It should have been unmapped. Unknown save for a select few like himself. Obviously, the Co-modality had been carefully surveying their new territories.
The neutrino detectors had picked up the pickets first. Now that it knew what to look for, the SDCS was focusing in optically. Three Garp-class cruisers. Each armed with at least seven torpedos. Each torpedo easily almost as large as his one-man ship. And at least ten times faster at full speed.
Of course, he was more than a match for any cruiser -- one man, a stripped down Space Data Computer System, no armaments and an engine just powerful enough to pulp him to jelly if he tried going much faster than he was already. But enough sarcasm. The ship /was/ built from low observability composites and shielded to prevent EM leakage, so maybe...
"UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL, SORD IS CLOSED FOR TRANSIT BY ORDER OF
CO-MODALITY. STOP ACCELERATION NOW AND HEAVE TO FOR INSPECTION."
No, no, no. They had neutrino detectors too. And they would certainly have as good a view of him as he did of them at this point. And there was no deniability for his ship -- it was a stealth spy craft, and thanks to unarguable physics of its required function, it looked the part. You'd have more success making a bullet that looked like a hamster.
"MULTIPLE LAUNCH"
It seemed their patience was finite. Each cruiser had fired two torpedos. Something that seemed extravagent until he remembered that they could always recall the unused ordinance. The six bolides set out at an easy lope, barely 800 kilometres a second to rendezvous with his craft's most probable trajectory five minutes out.
He had 300 seconds of life left. He cut the engine, knowing they would see the flame out immediately.
A gentle tickle of the thrusters to start the ship rotating for a deceleration burn. So slow... So sluggish and erratic. Almost as if something was wrong.
"UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL, ARE YOU IN DISTRESS?
DO YOU NEED TO DECLARE EMERGENCY?"
He was backwards relative to the small flotilla now, his engine facing them for the decel burn. He flickered the engine, letting it start then die like a worn out hotel neon sign.
The intercept gap had widened perceptibly. The missiles had made it their destination but he was no longer accellerating. 400, no 500 seconds left to live. He used the time well, quickly but carefully updating the course plot and flight plan.
It is said that a two legged man can outrun a four legged animal (like say, a horse) over short distances because he only has the two legs to manage when starting the race...
"UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL. STAND BY TO BE TAKEN
IN TOW. WE'LL SLOW YOU DOWN."
Two of the torpedos parted from the flock, advancing down his track to pull him in. The others slowly began to pivot on their gyros, preparing to head back to the barn since he was no longer a threat.
His five hundred seconds had dwindled to five... The precious data he had stolen was nestled safe in a solid state anti-g container under his seat.
Four... His eyes flicked quickly over the list of instructions he had left the SDCS and found no flaw.
Three... The perfectly functional thrusters snapped the ship back around, engine inline with the Sord. The SDCS made a final triangulation against the cold stars.
Two... The completely servicable engine ignited immediately, blowing past all the disabled safeties designed to protect fragile flesh and bone. For it was actually a torpedo engine, downgraded for human use. But with the shackles removed, nothing could catch it in straight flight. Especially not any of the nearby missiles pointed in all the wrong ways.
One... As the killing gravities stacked mercilessly on his chest, he tasted the ghost of chocolate on his tongue.
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