The Alliance Trilogy
Page 43
It took some time to get out of missile range, and then they arrived at the gas giant. She made a slingshot around the planet, flashed past the enemy, traveling in the opposite direct, and shed velocity to come in against the jump point again.
The entirety of the First Wolves was through, and most of the Fourth. She had ten of fourteen destroyers on hand. Svensen had the Fourth in motion, with Boghammer leading the way. They charged out with a handful of destroyers and threw themselves in the way of the incoming enemy force. A massive barrage between the two sides resulted in damage to two destroyers and a dragoon. Svensen retreated as Void Queen reorganized.
So far, a stalemate. Two destroyers wounded, one dragoon knocked out and a second injured. The enemy was smaller in number, but Kilo was the more powerful capital ship. It would take concerted effort to eliminate, and they had roughly three hours to do so before two more star fortresses jumped out of Heaven’s Gate and into Lenin.
The dragoons were quick and maneuverable—it would be hard to force action against them without corvettes or light cruisers, but she could certainly tackle the star fortress . . . for better or worse. Do that, she was sure, and the dragoons would have no choice but to respond. She told Azavedo to warn the other ships of the fleet of her intentions.
She pulled Void Queen out front in the hopes of providing a tempting target. The war junk hung above her, hidden, and Badger detached again, but she held back her other forces, as if they were still in disarray after the jump. The falcons entered the bay to refuel and rearm.
As expected, Kilo nudged forward and released a fresh missile barrage. Bombproofs retracted and cannons emerged. It was a fearsome display of firepower.
Catarina forced herself to sit. She gripped her armrests. “Tell the war junk to soften the enemy just aft of the main battery. Tech, give coordinates. I want the gunnery targeting the same spot.”
Dragoons swooped in as her first mate passed the orders, and she released the destroyers and star wolves from their holding position. They rushed in with missiles, cannon, and pummel guns roaring.
The space between the two capital ships filled with an exchange of fire. The AI warned of explosions. The defense grid was working heroically, and Badger took her blows, but not everything could be cleared from the sky in time. Void Queen shuddered from explosions along her hull. Damage reports warned of weakening armor. The three, the two, and the one, right above the bridge.
Kilo loomed in the viewscreen. What a monster.
Her own penetrating shot broke through and crumpled a stretch of enemy armor where Nine Tiger had been patiently hitting with her energy beam. Kilo rolled—attempting to free itself, Catarina initially thought—but instead of disengaging, the carrier lashed out with another missile salvo.
Catarina clenched her jaw. “Take them down.”
“Not targeting us, sir,” Winchester said from the defense grid. The missiles soared at an angle to strike above them on the Y-axis.
Then whom? Olafsen was coming up from below, and four destroyers, led by Regal, angled in from starboard. The Fourth Wolves organized off port. That left . . .
“Nine Tiger!” Winchester shouted.
Somehow, the enemy had picked the Singaporean ship out amid the background noise, most likely from lighting up the area with the explosions of combat.
Catarina’s officers at tech and defense were already trying to bring down the missiles as the war junk emerged from cloaking and let loose with pulse cannon. Void Queen’s striker wing was back in the air, and ran down several missiles from behind. But there were too many, and the enemy targeting was too precise.
Nine Tiger made an evasive maneuver that shed a few more before a stream of missiles struck it fore and aft. Its wing-like sensor arrays shattered. Missiles smashed the armor over the bridge, and the doomed ship made a final, twisting maneuver in an attempt to escape. Two more missiles struck home, and then it was dead.
“Bring up the other war junk,” Catarina said.
It was a grim command given how quickly Nine Tiger had fallen, but she couldn’t win this fight without the Singaporeans. Three Rooster pushed forward from the jump point where it had recently emerged from Heaven’s Gate, and took a bold position near the wreckage of its companion. It laid down another energy beam.
Catarina wouldn’t leave Three Rooster dangling. She ringed the war junk with four destroyers and positioned Svensen’s Fourth Wolves, now fully constituted, above and below. Dragoons spotted the Singaporeans and tried to get at them, but allied ships drove them off.
Badger had been exchanging punches with two other dragoons, and both absorbed and delivered damage. Such was the ferocity of the battle that the brawler needed to retreat to do emergency repairs on her forward shields, so a destroyer and a star wolf escorted her to safety behind Void Queen, who continued to fight against Kilo’s renewed firepower. Catarina fired the main guns, the secondary, and launched a trio of torpedoes. One got through. Moderate damage. Three Rooster kept softening that weak stretch of Kilo’s armor, but she couldn’t get a clear shot.
Just when Catarina thought she’d have to pull back and let smaller ships take their lumps in Void Queen’s place, Olafsen shook off a pair of dragoons and led a charge of five star wolves. They came up against Kilo, who was forced to respond. Olafsen’s fellow raider commander, Svensen, had already proven that the Scandians were willing to send across boarding parties, and the carrier positioned itself against this possibility.
The star wolves had stout shields, but they were no match at close range for a star fortress’s main guns. Devil’s Tooth took a blow on the lower hull and fell back, bleeding gases. Bloodaxe, Olafsen’s ship, absorbed several hits near the engines. The damage must have been serious because the old warlord was retreating, which had to cost his ego.
The fighting opened a hole for Void Queen to approach—that was the critical thing.
“Get the wolves out of there,” she ordered, then called the gunnery herself. “We’re going to take a chance. Full explosive shot. One hit, then torpedoes in all tubes as we fall back.”
The wolves were retreating even as Void Queen pushed the attack. The battle cruiser got off one final salvo with the secondary cannon before she shifted to present the main battery at close range. Dragoons had been frantically trying to get at Three Rooster, but Catarina’s precautionary screen had kept them at bay, and the armor softening had continued for nearly twenty minutes, on top of the damage Kilo had already suffered.
The star fortress attempted to turn about. Void Queen shuddered with the roar of twenty-two guns from her cannon. Explosive shot slammed into the weakened section of the enemy’s hull. Secondary explosions burst free like popping bubbles of fire, and the shield generator sparked and then exploded. It was still shooting at the battle cruiser, but Catarina already had her ship withdrawing, and she shoved six torpedoes right down their gullet as she retreated.
Four of them got through the enemy defenses. Massive explosions rocked the enemy carrier. One of the engine fins broke off and spun away. A plume of bleeding plasma trailed behind it.
The rest of Catarina’s fleet hit and hit hard. Missiles rocked down on the carrier from all directions. A dragoon got caught between two destroyers and a star wolf, and died seconds later. Two more wolves isolated the dragoon crippled in the initial attack and finished it off. Kilo couldn’t escape, and was slowly dying.
Meanwhile, something was wrong with Bloodaxe. A single dragoon pursued Olafsen’s ship, shooting at the damaged engine shields, and the star wolf wasn’t responding. Another wolf went to relieve it, but the action had moved too far from the main battle for further support. The dragoon lit into Bloodaxe’s engine and destroyed it. And then the entire ship detonated in a fiery explosion.
The surviving dragoons fled in random directions. They threw up cloaks, and although sensors chased after them, several managed to escape in the confusion and disappear from the screens.
“I can’t believe we lost Bloodaxe,�
� Azavedo said. “And Olafsen—never thought that old Viking would die.”
Burris looked up from the tech console. “Numerous escape pods launched before Bloodaxe went down. Don’t know if Olafsen is on one of them—he had time, if he was quick about it.”
That was a bit of hope in an otherwise dark moment. Catarina was still stunned by the death of the ship itself, and what’s more, damage reports from Regal and Formosa were severe. The destroyers would have to be scuttled if they were going to get out of here alive.
When she ordered Devil’s Tooth to pick up survivors from the Bloodaxe disaster, the star wolf couldn’t muster enough engine strength to obey, and she had to send Frost Giant and two destroyers instead. So Devil’s Tooth was lost, as well.
She counted the losses. “Regal, Formosa, Devil’s Tooth, Bloodaxe, Nine Tiger. That’s going to hurt.”
“Lost a freighter, too,” Burris said. “One of the ghoul ships took potshots when it was flying out of here and blew it to pieces.”
“What was she carrying?” Catarina asked.
“Light ordnance and spare parts—nothing critical, thank God.”
“It’s all critical out here,” she told Burris. “And they’re only spare parts until you need them.”
“We took out a star fortress,” Azavedo pointed out.
He changed the view on the main screen from the Bloodaxe wreckage to Kilo, which was serving as target practice for destroyers. Not that Catarina wanted to waste ammo, but she needed that thing gutted, its stasis chambers destroyed, and all its decimators killed.
“One star fortress, sure,” she said. “But Foxtrot and Bravo will arrive shortly.”
“And so will Blackbeard and First Dragon, only a few hours after that,” Azavedo protested.
The first mate didn’t seem ready to leave off their victory and face reality. She gave him a look.
“And when the six star fortresses leave the planet and join the fight?”
“The first enemy carrier will be through in roughly forty minutes,” Burris announced. “The Fourth Wolves are moving into position to greet them.”
Catarina acknowledged the tech officer before turning back to Azavedo. “We’ve done what we came for—let’s collect survivors, scuttle those ships, and prepare to fight Foxtrot and Bravo. We’ll hit them as hard as we can while they’re recovering from the jump, then get out of here. Play cat and mouse until Tolvern and Wang appear.”
“And then?”
“Then we jump the hell out of here.”
The assistant tech officer, a man named Snood, had been hunched over the tech console, running through damage assessments, and now looked up. His eyes were wide, his face ashen. “Um, Captain? I don’t think we’re jumping anywhere.”
Chapter Nineteen
For the first thirty minutes of battle, Drake wished he were at the helm of Dreadnought.
Even during the initial exchange of long-range missiles, the battleship would be the center of enemy attention. Dreadnought had the most guns, the largest number of missiles and torpedoes, and could soak up huge amounts of damage. Drake had commanded the battleship during the war against Apex and faced down harvester ships in a way no cruiser or battle cruiser could manage.
But as Drake ordered Mose Dryz into position, and the general detached his brawlers to position them like shields off port and starboard, he felt like he was standing above a cosmic chess set, shifting his queen boldly into the center of the board. Four light cruisers—Peerless, Alacrity, Savage, and Drake’s own Vigilant—swung out to Dreadnought’s flanks like rooks and bishops. As for the other ships on the board . . .
“And my chess metaphor breaks down,” he said aloud.
“Sir?” Pearson asked, her brow furrowed.
“Get those missile frigates closer—the range is too far. I want the Second Wolves ready for a charge at the dragoons. Support them with the destroyers.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Pull the sloops in against Dreadnought. A last-ditch defense—the Hroom will be eager to keep the general safe.”
He called the torpedo boat commander himself, and told the man to hold all nine boats in reserve, ready to charge a wounded star fortress and finish it off. Three war junks, led by Six Tiger, moved autonomously, with orders to target whichever star fortress the battleship was currently engaging.
“What about the corvettes, sir?” Pearson asked when she’d finished.
He’d been considering that. He had three Swift-class corvettes: Bolt, Swordfish, and Meteor. They were his secret weapon against massed dragoon attacks, together with light cruisers, which could operate the same way. But he thought he had enough conventional firepower between the fourteen destroyers and star wolves to fight off the dragoons while the rest of the fleet concentrated on knocking out star fortresses.
After some initial probing, India and her four dragoons came in hard above Dreadnought. It was too early, and the star fortress, as powerful as it was, would be exposed to the bulk of the Alliance fleet before Echo and Juliett arrived from their bombardment of Fort Mathilde.
“Tell the general to hold fire. Let them come.”
The Second Wolves shifted to tangle with the four dragoons, and the two groups of smaller ships were shortly in a side battle. Drake split off four destroyers to join them and ordered the other four out ahead to spit mines. This was presumably to slow India’s approach, but really, he wanted to slow its departure once it had engaged. Get that big ship fully entangled and unable to extract itself.
Enemy missiles broke through Dreadnought’s defenses and splattered against her hull. Her brawlers moved into position to better block the incoming attack.
“Time for some of our own,” Drake said.
The order went out, and four Royal Navy missile frigates let loose. The cruisers followed in short order, and together with the battleship, sent an outgoing wave of missiles thundering toward the star fortress. The enemy’s countermeasures were good; a disappointingly small number broke through the defense.
India kept rolling as it approached. Word came from Six Tiger—they couldn’t get a good fix on the enemy armor. Whenever it seemed to be softening, the enemy shifted, broke the war junks’ energy beams, and allowed the tyrillium to disperse the energy and re-harden. So much for that tactic.
He finally understood what India was doing: it was holding Drake’s fleet in place so the other two star fortresses could escape being pinned between the allied ships and the asteroid base. India intended to roll right past them, get in position, then hold while Juliett and Echo joined the fight.
“We’ll have something to say about that,” he said.
Drake moved the seven secondary ships—four cruisers and three corvettes—to block India’s inevitable retreat. He had no sooner lined up his forces, main batteries exposed, when the star fortress slammed into their formation. Each cruiser fired fourteen cannon; each corvette fired eight. Together, it was a punishing line of fire that tore into the star fortress.
But the thing was a monster, and rumbled past them, muscling Drake’s ships out of the way before they could get off a second shot. It was shortly in the clear. Flaming gas and debris trailed from several wounds along its hull, but by the time torpedoes chased after it, India had shifted position, brought up countermeasures, and methodically picked the incoming fire out of the sky. The cruisers and corvettes struggled to reform lines, but they were too busy shooting down incoming missiles from India to return fire.
Dreadnought was moving, but too slowly. Most of Drake’s secondary ships were out of position. His missile frigates were between volleys. The torpedo boats were too far back, and the enemy still too strong to send them in. He could only watch helplessly as India escaped and rendezvoused with the other two star fortresses and their riders.
India’s four dragoons were a different matter. The Second Wolves bagged one, knocking out its engines and then demolishing it with pummel guns. A second dragoon, already injured, limped between Vigilant and Peerles
s in an attempt to get through to India. McGowan, alert at the helm of Peerless, fired his secondary battery to deflect its path toward Vigilant, at which point Drake shoved two torpedoes down its gullet and left it a gutted wreck.
A third injured dragoon, pursued by destroyers, tried to back out of the fight, and instead hit the minefield they’d laid down earlier. A mine destroyed its torus ring, and another forced a plasma ejection from its engines. The destroyers mauled it with crossfire. The dragoon drifted away from the battle, gutted and dead.
Only one of the four dragoons gained the clear and joined India as it regrouped with the rest. Unfortunately the other two star fortresses had broken free from Fort Mathilde, and Kelly was reduced to pea-shooting them with the only remaining long-range missiles she could bring to bear. That effectively removed Fort Mathilde from the fight, unless Drake could drive the two carriers back within sight of her guns, which didn’t seem likely.
With that option removed, there was no need to rush back into battle, and he took his time repositioning his forces. The primary target was India. She packed a mean punch, but had taken blows, and would be vulnerable. With one good engagement, Drake hoped to deliver a knockout blow.
He called Mose Dryz. The general appeared, tall and regal looking. An iron circlet rested on his brow. Two priests moved behind him, but Drake also caught glimpses of human officers he’d served with at the helm—the battleship was still largely Albionish in crew, with maybe fifteen percent Hroom, Singaporeans, and the like.
Mose Dryz made some preliminary humming and whistles. “My deepest apologies, Admiral James Drake. Had I maneuvered with greater energy, I might have forced a decisive encounter.”
“Easy, General. Dreadnought isn’t a corvette—you can’t spin on your heel like that.”
“Still, I might have better anticipated India’s move.”
“I don’t need you to anticipate. What I want is for you to slug it out. Dreadnought versus India. Can you take it down?”