Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

—

Juan tried not to blink as he watched the cameras on the op center’s main view screen and made tiny adjustments to the Oregon’s course using the joystick on the command chair armrest. Murph had altered the LiDAR system so that it beeped at Juan every time he got too close to one of the canyon’s walls, like the backup sensor in a new car that was backing into a parking space between two concrete pillars. The warnings sounded almost constantly.

For the first time that he could recall, Juan had his command chair seat belt snugged tight around his waist. It felt wrong to have the op center to himself, but it gave him peace of mind knowing that he was the only one in imminent danger. His eyes flicked back and forth from the port to the starboard cameras, and he had to remind himself to breathe. The jagged rocks filled the camera’s view on either side, like serrated teeth ready to chew into his ship.

When he was three-quarters of the way through, Juan felt the current suddenly pull the Oregon off course, and he heard a mournful screech as metal was torn from the ship’s hull. He rapidly corrected his path. There was no point in slowing down now. Through the canyon’s exit ahead, he could now see the bow of the Portland nosing into view.

This was it. He was committed. Juan ratcheted the throttle to full power, and the Oregon blasted forward, her armored prow aiming right for the midsection of the Portland.

* * *

—

Contact directly left!” shouted the Portland’s radar operator.

“On-screen,” Tate said.

The port camera view appeared, and Tate’s blood ran cold when he saw the Oregon racing toward them.

“No! No! That was supposed to be a solid wall of ice.” On the map, there was no gap indicated there, yet here was the nightmare image of the Oregon’s bow growing larger on-screen at a fantastic rate.

“Flank speed!” he screamed.

“Flank speed, aye!” the helmsman answered.

“Go! Go!” Tate shrieked, but the crewman’s reaction time was too slow. There was no way to avoid the impact now.

As he scrambled to latch his belt, Tate realized that he had done exactly what he warned others against doing. He had underestimated Cabrillo.

It had simply never occurred to Tate that Juan would sacrifice his own ship.

* * *

—

Eddie’s heart raced as he could do nothing more than watch the terrible sight of the Oregon plowing into the center of her doppelgänger.

With a mixture of pride and sadness, Linc said, “You got him, Chairman.”

The Oregon’s bow plunged into the Portland like a dagger into an enemy’s heart. The Portland’s thick, steel-plated hull ripped apart as easily as a sheet of tissue paper. The Oregon didn’t stop until she was buried halfway into the other ship. If the ships were truly identical, Eddie guessed that the Portland’s op center had taken the full brunt of the blow.

The two freighters were now joined as one. The Oregon was a barbed spear embedded in her quarry, and there would be no pulling her loose. The force of the collision pushed the Portland all the way to the opposite cliff, where the linked vessels finally came to a halt. Dense black smoke rose from the point of impact.

Eddie clicked his molar mic. “Chairman, do you read me? Juan?”

There was no answer.

69

Tate shook his head to clear it, but that only worsened the whiplash in his neck. He opened his eyes to see that the op center was now a complete wreck. He was the only one who had a seat belt on, so he had stayed in place even though his command chair was now pushed up at a thirty-degree angle. No one else was moving. Bodies were sprawled on the floor or had been crushed beyond recognition by the Oregon’s rusted hull, which now filled the space where the view screen had been.

Sparks flew from exposed electrical conduits, Klaxons blared, and the emergency lighting had flickered on. Tate checked the ship status on the pad on his armrest, and it winked on and off with a long series of warnings.

Engines down. Weapons off-line. Fire suppression systems disabled. Flooding in multiple compartments. The list went on.

With a hole as massive as the one the Oregon had punched in the Portland, it was just a matter of time now before the ship went down. He had to get out.

He unlatched his belt, but a new alarm sounded that caught his attention. It was the fire signal.