Now we finally had the all (for a certain value of all at least), clear permission, we began our approach.
As we passed several large pieces of floating debris, I couldn’t help but notice what they came from. Flotilla bantam class frigate? That was fair enough, I’d seen a couple of those over the years, usually you sneeze in their general direction they’re toast. They were designed primarily as lightweight transportation, best guess, somebody had tried to use one to sneak by, hoping their small size, or that they were once a flotilla vessel would serve as ID. Apparently it hadn’t. I made a note, if the boneyard turned out to be a dud, to come back and skim her for parts. The components they used weren’t a perfect match, but they might just do, with some jury-rigging, in a pinch.
There were a lot, and I mean a lot, of melter ships out there, remind me on later to explain those to you. But it seemed even here, they fit the age-old definition of madness, that when you fail you try the same thing over again, and expect different results. The thing in question being repeated application of force.
“HO-LEE-SHIT, IS THAT A CHOMPER?” I couldn’t help yelling, Chompers, or to give them their proper name MK. 5 heavy pacification units, were once over pretty much the poster child for mutually assured destruction. Mercifully, it looked like this one had somehow been hit in the core, so the weaponry wasn’t usable. They were essentially what happens when a molecular destabilisation device, and a planet cracker, decide they love each other very much. It would appear something, round here, had pissed off the Melters something fierce.
If they had used that thing on any asteroid, comet, small moon, large moon, small planet, medium planet, large planet, or anything with a debris field, there would be nothing left. They were a weapon designed for one shot, and one shot only.
It fires into the protective plate, or mantle, of the target. Then fires a sequence of MD charges into the core. This results in a planet wide game of molecular pinball, there are no winners in molecular pinball. Physics just reminds you that everything is made up of them.
Usually the destruction ends roughly a system out, usually, if the debris is widely enough spaced. Which you had better hope it is.
“Note to self: if you can, make sure that damned thing gets destroyed completely. We do not need the melters trying to salvage it.” I muttered, and judging from the horrified expressions on Jenel and Nara, there was a definite accord there. Some things should not be allowed to continue to exist.
Judging from the wreckage hereabouts, which included a fair few tugs, either it had been incapable of moving un-towed when they dragged it out of whatever hellhole it came from, or they had already tried to retrieve it at least once already, and the security had decided to deal with the problem.
As we passed, I couldn’t help, but examine the damage on the hull of The Chomper. One of the tips you learn pretty early in the salvage game, is if something might end up shooting at you, it helps to know what they’ll be shooting you with. It won’t stop them doing it, but at least you’ll know vaguely what sort of damage to expect, and what sort of injuries the Med bays should be set for. (Like we had one of those, the closest thing we had on board was ol’ hacksaw, a medical bot I’d picked up for cheap, who turned out to have none of the programs but basic cuspid, bicuspid, and canine care. I know, I know, I’m a lousy boss, but at least we have dental.) Having that knowledge in advance, may just save your sorry ass, when push comes to shove.
Looking at the hull, and the size of the holes in it, was not reassuring in the least. Those things had been blasted through the hull with a series of plasma blasts, and more worryingly, a weapon I hadn’t seen before. (Normally my heart would be all aflutter at the prospect of a new type of toy, but that’s only really a good thing when you own the toy box they’re in. Otherwise, that sorta thing can only mean trouble.)
Still, it was too late to back out now, and trying it could end up being like trying to yank your way out of a finger trap, (no not the toy ones, the ones made on Relana, which followed the same principle, but were a lot more pointy, and potentially disfiguring about it. It may not shock you to know, that they do not sell as well as the originals. Which seems to surprise the Relanans, then again they have a rep for their, unusual imports, though danger-balls do sell well. Usually to kids as a personal security device.)
Attempting to back out, may just convince the ancient security systems, that we actually have a reason to need to, meaning we may not have official permission. Ergo, we were a threat capable of getting this far in. That, I can see ending poorly for us.
********************************************************************************************* Nara was busy keeping an eye on the screens for potential security probes. So far the systems were treating them with kid-gloves, she was really hoping it would stay that way. Occasionally, one crumbling turret, or another, would send a quick query. It was her job to make sure those got answered, and where they were too badly corrupted, figure out a way to convince them.
They had been fortunate so far, in that most of the corrupted systems used the same base. Built on code so deprecated, at it’s core, that it felt like it practically belonged to the days when dinosaurs ruled the earth. (The shadow of DOS is long, and the exploits are many fold.)
She had just finished answering yet another query, when she noticed a worrying light on one of the screens. That didn’t look like a turret. OHSHIT, it wasn’t. “EILEEN CUT THE ENGINES, WE NEED TO CUT POWER, NOW.” she managed to bellow, before the entire ship was rocked by an impact.