“It’s been an honor,” Percy said softly.
“Oh, shut up Hammer! Don’t go all maudlin on me! We’re going to make it through this!”
“Of course we are. I meant it was an honor for you to have me riding shotgun on this one.”
Imagawa could almost hear Percy’s smirk. “Yes, a great and unrivaled honor.”
“Whoever’s Wildcat has fewer holes in it buys the other drinks back on Steadfast. Ready your cash, Witch.”
Imagawa watched the Sledgehammers come within weapons range of the Ajaxian warships. These had refrained from using their own antimissiles to intercept the big antiship weapons, and instead were pouring fire from their lasers and other close-in weapon systems as they neared the carrier. She couldn’t be certain if it was the flagship but it was the most valuable vessel they had. If they got lucky. . .
Six of the weapons detonated, focusing the energies of their warheads into massively-powerful x-ray laser beams. These kissed the light carrier’s shield. The carrier shrugged off the blows, but veered off to starboard as its shield temporarily overloaded.
“Nice shooting, Captain Petrov,” Imagawa whispered over the comm to Percy. “Better than I’d hoped.”
“Better than good,” Petrov said proudly. Then he sighed. “But not enough. The carrier’s shield is already coming back up to full strength.”
Imagawa slammed her scope with a clenched fist. “Damn!”
The remaining half-dozen Sledgehammers were armed with standard fusion warheads. Each missile needed to get as close to a target ship as it could to have maximum effect. Only one got close. The destroyers and the carrier combined the weight of their defensive firepower and stopped five of the missiles in their tracks before they could reach detonation range. The final Sledgehammer did detonate after making contact with the shield on the carrier. It was impossible for Imagawa to tell what effect, if any, the weapon had on the warship. It didn’t look like it had been put out of action. Her plan had failed. Damn it!
The Wildcats were now the targets of a hurricane of defensive fire from the accompanying destroyers and several of the corvettes, all of which were blasting away, unconcerned that they might be putting their own fighters in danger.
“They’re awake, if they weren’t already,” Percy said. “The Jaxer fighters have reacquired us too. Coming from all angles. Are we really doing this? Tell me again, please.”
“Yes. We've still got to make this as difficult as possible for them.” And pray for a miracle. “On my mark: three, two, one. . .”
Each Wildcat performed an emergency ejection of one of its two J89 plasma thrust engines. These were fusion reactors that expelled reaction mass out the back of the fighter, thereby imparting thrust to the fighter. Under certain, rare circumstances, it might be necessary for a pilot to ditch one or both of the devices to avoid an explosion. Doing so in anything but emergency circumstances had not been something that Imagawa had been taught at flight school. No one at the Academy had ever breathed a word to her about chucking a working engine because she simply considered it to be a good idea. Yet here she was, ridding her Wildcat of a perfectly functional thruster.
The engines shot out backward, electromagnetic pulses shoving them in the opposite direction of the fighters. They spun, end over end, cylindrical gray chunks of titanium and composite tumbling in the vacuum.
Imagawa counted five seconds, to allow time to clear the blast radii of what were now just two lightweight nuclear bombs. “Remote detonations. . . now!”
Both engines burst into blue-white fireballs, expanding neatly in all directions. “Emergency shutdown!” commed Imagawa.
The Wildcats’ pilots cut off all power, letting their machines go dark. Imagawa’s reasoning was simple, and probably foolhardy, but had just enough moxie that it might work. If she and Percy were lucky, and they’d better be, the Ajaxian ships, all dozen or so of them, would believe that the Wildcats had been busted open by their murderous antifighter weaponry.
Imagawa tumbled in her Wildcat, hoping that its erratic motion would make it look like any other piece of debris in the speeding mass of garbage that Arles Station had puked out. She felt more alone in this moment than she had for a very long time. She’d come to rely on Percy’s wit and wisdom during the endless combat space patrols she conducted with him. They talked via tightbeam at great length on everything under the sun. They knew each other better than they did their own brothers and sisters. Now she could not speak one word to him. She had to remain silent if their deception was to have any chance of succeeding.
For two minutes their fighters tumbled, appearing to be nothing more than a knot of metal and composites, materials that could be found in any expulsion of trash from an orbital station. She caught sight of the light carrier. Despite its designation, it was an enormous ship, dwarfing her Wildcat, which was a mere insect in comparison. It was an ugly affair, a typically Ajaxian warship designed to impress with brute power. No attention had been paid giving it graceful lines. It was all jutting angles, painted in somber blacks and blood reds. It gave Imagawa a chill. The first Jaxer ship she’d ever fired upon had been painted in the same livery. These were the national colors of the Domain, and every ship in the DN wore them.
She keyed the release of a full dozen M11 ECM canisters. These pods shot out of the rear of her machine on a delayed timer. After floating behind her for fifteen seconds, they began to emit electronic wails to mimic the signatures of a Wildcat. At a distance of two kilometers, Percy had done the same, and his M11’s emitted the same electronic screeches.
The Ajaxian warships, which had been transiting toward Arles unperturbed by an assault of a dozen nuclear-tipped missiles, suddenly found themselves under attack by two dozen Halifaxian fighters at extremely close range. The ships took evasive maneuvers, dispersing from their original heading as they swerved to escape.
It took thirty seconds before the sensors aboard the Ajaxian ships determined that they had been spooked by the M-11’s, and that there really weren’t three squadrons of Wildcats inside their formation. They had delayed the enemy, for just a little while.
Imagawa hoped that some of the Jaxers had wet themselves.
“What now, Witch? Peashooters?”
“It’s what we have left.”
The Wildcats, each minus an engine, wheezily accelerated toward the light carrier. They blazed away with their lasers and railcannons, sending a continuous stream of fire toward the Ajaxian ship. The carrier’s shield was strong and it shrugged off the incoming fire, sending out a staggering amount of defensive fire in return. Imagawa raced her Wildcat, which felt like it was suffering from asthma, it was so much slower on one engine, toward the carrier. The shield would never buckle under the weight of a few small popguns like the ones that she and Percy packed in their Wildcats. But it was the Halifaxian way. Fight until the end, no matter what.
An alarm went off in her cockpit. It roared, almost deafening, as she craned her head around to see what was arriving.
“Close proximity displacement bubble collapsing!” Percy shouted.
“Steadfast?!” Imagawa blurted. Had Captain Heyward come anyway, despite her warning? Had he even gotten it before jumping?
“Oh, crap!” Percy cried. “It’s coming out right on top of us!”
Both Wildcats executed steep turns to take them out of the unwinding displacement envelope. Switching her holoscreen to the rear view, Imagawa saw a Halifaxian ship emerge from hyperspace. It’s shield came up with aching slowness, there being an inherent lag time between emergence and the raising of the barrier. Fortunately, the Ajaxian ships had been too surprised by its appearance to target it. Dozens of missiles streaked from the newcomer’s missile tubes and its four twin-railcannon turrets began pumping out a steady stream of fusion shells at the light carrier.
“It’s not Steadfast!” Imagawa shouted. “Who the hell is it?”
“Whoever it is, it’s one of ours!” Percy commed in response. “Wow! It’s bla
zing away!”
A torrent of antifighter fire singed the starboard wing of Imagawa’s Wildcat, glowing globules of superheated metal and composites boiling away into the vacuum.
“They’ve got us, Hammer! Let’s get out of here!”
Imagawa began streaking away from the carrier, which had become the focus of the new RHN warship’s attention. The ship - Imagawa’s Wildcat identified it as a Sapphire-class destroyer, unknown designation - had itself become the target of every one of the dozens of Ajaxian ships. These began to serve up a typhoon of missiles and nuclear shells, all directed at the lone RHN vessel.
The Sapphire was undeterred by this, impudently accelerating through the maelstrom toward the light carrier. It continued to hurl fusion shells and Sledgehammer missiles, which streaked across the void to impact against the carrier’s shield. The Ajaxian vessel shuddered visibly under the storm of nuclear explosions, and the shield faltered and failed. Three fusion shells detonated just meters from its unprotected hull, ripping open several layers of armor and exposing its innards to space. Fighters still embarked on the carrier were torn from their docking bays and loosed into the void. The carrier began to ripple with secondary explosions and fell away from its companions.
Imagawa watched the rest of the Ajaxian fleet begin to panic. It was impossible to know exactly what the enemy was feeling at this moment, but it could not have been confidence. The destroyers and the pummeled light carrier, along with the corvettes and sloops, veered from the station and hurried off, far from their lone tormentor, before conducting emergency jumps away from Arles. As if in confirmation of their treachery, the two freighters also bolted via displacement, leaving the sublight hospital ship alone before the station.
The Halifaxian Sapphire had suffered for its boldness. Most of the Ajaxian missiles that had been launched against it were blasted apart outside of lethal range, but four detonated against the destroyer’s shield. Miraculously, the shield held, but only until the last of the missiles had erupted, and then it failed utterly, leaving the Sapphire exposed. Her brave captain wisely turned his ship about and put distance between him and the retreating Ajaxians.
A coded transmission reached Imagawa’s Wildcat, which had cleared out of the death zone between the Sapphire and the Ajaxian fleet. The voice she heard was familiar.
“RHN fighters, RHN fighters, this is Albacore actual. Please respond.”
“Uh, Albacore, this is Lieutenant Commander Callisto Imagawa. Admiral More, is that you?”
There was no response for several seconds. Then there was laughter.
“I should have known that the Witch of Pella would be mixed up in this.”
“How the hell did you find us? That was an impressive jump!”
“We were a hundred thousand kilometers out when we picked up the electromagnetic signatures of three squadrons of RHN Wildcats,” More explained. “That couldn’t be right, since we don’t have that many machines in-system. We figured it was one of our own spewing out ECM. We used it as an aim point for our short jump. Pretty fine piece of displacement, if I do say so myself.”
“Yes it was. We thought you were Steadfast.”
“Matt Heyward is on his way. We were closer. I’ll explain everything when we have more time. Right now, I’m going to have to limp over to Arles. My ride isn’t quite as robust as Steadfast is. My DP drive is offline. My shield will need a few hours to fix. Would you and Hammer mind escorting me there? We’ve got a hospital ship to take back from the enemy.”
“Hello, admiral,” Percy said. “I don’t have any place to be, so sure.”
“Good,” More said. “Whoever is on that ship is going to have to answer some questions.”
“Copy that, admiral,” Imagawa said. She and Percy pointed their Wildcats in the direction of Arles Station, following in the wake of RHS Albacore. She had no idea what had brought an admiral out to this boondocks system of the Great Sphere, but she had the distinct sense that the war had just become a lot more interesting.
Chapter Six
Arles Station, Aquitaine System
The Steadfast broke from hyperspace several minutes later and deployed the remainder of the Golden Sabers squadron, giving Imagawa and Percy some much needed rest. Captain Matt Heyward materialized on the bridge of Albacore, a glowing blue-white ghost image showing him to be a tall man, and lean, just entering middle-age. He snorted as he caught sight of More, seated to the left of Captain Kim. "Good to see you again, Ariana. You lost a bet and have to babysit an admiral, I see."
Kim laughed. "It was either babysit or continue plowing through space, searching for mines. It's not too bad. He doesn't fuss much and he knows his way around a ship."
"Great to see you too, Matt," More smiled. "I was wondering when you were going to join the festivities here."
"Yes, well, I'd have gotten here sooner if I'd known that there was a party going on. I was held up with an inspection of a freighter carrying a cargo of meds to the outer system. They're on the right side in this, but I had to make sure. Scared the crap out of the ship's captain when I came up on him. No one likes to be overtaken by a heavy cruiser. He was sweating bullets, thinking we were Jaxers. Even when we made it clear who we were he was still jittery."
"You don't have a trustworthy face."
"No I don't. So we spent an hour looking over his cargo and then sent him off. Imagawa, as usual, managed to find something interesting to occupy her time while we were away."
More transmitted the orders from High Command over to Heyward, who quickly looked them over, then brushed them away with a sweep of his hand. "Glad to have you back, Andy," he said. "You should have been sent out here a long time ago. Tommasina and Inigo will be very pleased to have you back too. They’re around Pessac now, taking out Ajaxian merchantmen."
"I'm happy to be back in the mix. What we will be doing here won’t be much different than what you’ve already started on your own. With an additional ship we can be more flexible in what we try. I plan on letting you, Tommasina, and Inigo take the lead tactically while I sit back and direct the action. Albacore isn't quite up to slugging it out with first-class opponents, as you may have noticed by now."
"You seem to have done pretty well, all considered," Heyward said. "Imagawa told me you saved their keesters."
"A well-placed short-jump. The DP drive is down and we took a beating. I've got Howell working on it. He'll have it back online soon enough."
Heyward smiled broadly. "So you managed to persuade Julius to come back to the Navy! Good for you! Did you lure him with the high pay or the promise of adventure?"
"Mainly the high pay. Free food helped too."
"Let him know I'm happy he's with us again. He knows his stuff. Albacore will of course be a frightful comedown for him after Cordelia."
"He'll make do." More called up the tactical display, which he showed to Heyward via the technological miracle that was holographic communication. "So what do you make of this?" More asked. An image of an ungainly starship rose between More and Heyward. More gestured to two of the new ensigns who had been assigned to the Albacore to come close to take a look at it also. Both Cooper Hu and Mariano Mullins had been students of his at Cold Bay only three weeks ago.
The hospital ship was like many other civilian craft that plied the space lanes of the Great Sphere. It was a rotund cylinder, dull white in color, relieved only by a giant cross, painted in red, on its sides. Bulbous thrusters jutted from its stern, looking as if they had been stuck on as an afterthought rather than having been intended to be integral to the ship. She carried no obvious weaponry, though such systems could often be hidden inside the hull. The long-range electrooptics aboard the Albacore allowed More to pick out the details of the hull. It had seen happier days.
"Laser scores, admiral," noted Ensign Cooper Hu, pointing them out on the hologram of the ship that floated above their heads. "Here, here, and there. And there also."
To More, the ship appeared to require substantial repai
r work. "She's been in a scrap, that much is certain. She's not coming up in the database. If she's Aquitainian as her markings suggest she was probably taken by the Ajaxians in the first days they were here."
More cycled rapidly through the after action reports and related intel that Imagawa had sent to him via burst transmission. It was patchy, and was restricted almost exclusively to what the RHN's own ships had been doing in the system prior to his arrival. "Not enough information yet to come to a conclusion as to the ship’s identity. We'll find out more once we board. I'd prefer not sending a boarding party over but they insist on doing this the hard way. They're ignoring all of our hails."
"Why not blast it to pieces?" asked Mullins. He was young and aggressive, and specialized in weapons. More liked him, but his aggressiveness would be something that would have to be channeled, and sometimes kept in check.
"You are aware, Mr. Mullins, that under all conventions of war, including the Accords, hospital ships are not to be targeted? I am certain that is still taught as part of the Academy's curriculum."
Mullins proffered an embarrassed smile. "Why yes of course, Admiral More. Of course. You taught us that yourself, I remember now. In this instance, however, it is operating as part of an enemy flotilla, and it is almost certainly under Ajaxian control. . . I do not think it is likely to be a genuine hospital ship."
"You mean it is a ruse of some kind?"
"That is the most logical deduction to be made. Though it is Aquitainian in origin it is unlikely to be under their control, and has probably been converted to some unsavory purpose."
"That is my assessment too. Are you also aware that the Ajaxians, despite being signatories to the Accords, scarcely heed them, and routinely fire on hospital spacecraft?"
Mullins nodded curtly. "I am, sir. All the more reason to destroy it. If it were still under Aquitainian control, there would have been a response to our hails. The Ajaxians are up to no good here."
The Ajax Incursion Page 8
