A tense boredom settled over them, of the type Thatcher had experienced countless time in Space Fleet, from various positions around the CIC. Space combat was full of these: long waits before the brief clashes that decided who lived and who died. Sometimes, Thatcher found himself thinking that victory was decided more by a crew’s ability to tolerate these interminable periods than it was by the tactics employed during the actual battle.
“They’re forming up, sir.” Guerrero’s body reflected the tension in her words. “It looks like they mean to engage us.”
Thatcher could see that for himself on his holoscreen, but he wasn’t about to mention that he’d already been aware of it. He liked to build as many layers of redundancy and repetition into his CIC’s operations as he could. It minimized the chance of something vital getting missed.
Guerrero tapped at her console. “Sir, I’ve been running their profiles and I’ve got something back. It looks like one of them is an actual warship. A frigate. It’s a model that’s known for its hefty shield, and they’re keeping it at the fore, presumably to soak up damage.”
Thatcher nodded, already turning over possibilities in his head.
They were half an hour out from the battle, the CIC buzzing with barely restrained excitement, when Guerrero spoke again. She’d gone completely rigid at her console, and Thatcher knew the news wouldn’t be good.
“Sir, twenty-one ships just entered the system behind us. Reardon warships, with seven pirate vessels accompanying them. They’re headed straight for us.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aboard the New Jersey
Kava System, Lacuna Region
Earth Year 2290
“Contact,” Guerrero barked. “It’s just as we expected, sir. Their frigate has its shields up and their logistics ship is positioned directly behind it, ready to feed energy into its receiver array. The enemy is distributing its laserfire mostly between New Jersey and Lancer, with a couple ships firing on the Georgia.”
And without as much as a hello, Thatcher mused. He’d had Guerrero try contacting the opposing ships, to account for the possibility they were just hapless civilians stranded in the middle of Lacuna. That had seemed unlikely, given there were seventeen of them and they were all armed, and when they’d refused the Jersey’s transmission, Thatcher took it as all the confirmation he needed.
The storm of laserfire being directed at his ships seemed like a reliable sign as well.
On his order, every Frontier ship had raised shields two minutes ago. To conserve energy, he’d waited until the last moment before it would have become dangerous to leave them down. If he was being honest, he may have crossed that line by an inch or three. But he had to trust his captain’s intuition.
At any rate, his ships could take this rate of laserfire for a few minutes at least. Indeed, his strategy counted on it.
“Have all ships focus fire on the shielded frigate.”
“Sir? Its shield is robust, much more than average—”
“Relay the order, Guerrero!”
Guerrero’s eyes went wide, and she jerked toward her console, her face red as she punched in the commands that would connect her to the other ships.
For his part, Thatcher took a steadying breath. He hadn’t meant to snap, and considered it bad form for a captain to do so, ever. But this was the first time the lieutenant had ever questioned an order from him, and the fact she’d done it in the middle of an engagement had pissed him off.
He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t do that either. The crew’s perception of their captain as solid, stern, and effective was everything—a force multiplier he couldn’t afford to lose. His reprimanding tone had been over the top, but it would have to stand. You can curse yourself for losing your cool later.
In the holotank, bright beams lanced from all five of Frontier’s damage-dealing ships, slamming into the enemy frigate’s shield. It shimmered wildly, but held. Thatcher felt sure it was taking a beating, but Guerrero was right. There was a good chance it would hold for a while, and if he continued trying to hose it down he would soon lose a ship, possibly more.
Seeing the opening, just over half of the pirate force charged from behind the damage-absorbing frigate to take aim at all five of Thatcher’s offensive vessels, though most of their lasers remained concentrated on his two cruisers and sole frigate.
The frigate seems an odd choice. Maybe the pirates were hedging their bets. If they couldn’t take down the cruisers with this attack, at least they would get the frigate.
Either way, they had taken the bait. Now, they would pay for it.
“XO, cease laserfire. Guerrero, have all other ships do the same. I want a full missile volley divided between the ships I’m designating.” His hand dancing across his holoscreen, he selected four of the charging pirate vessels. “Stand by to mop up with autoturrets, should any of them survive. Execute immediately.”
“Aye, sir.”
In space combat terms, the pirates were charging into what was effectively point-blank range, with barely any transversal velocity relative to the Frontier ships. As such, it didn’t take long for Candle and his counterparts aboard the other vessels to whip up firing solutions.
“All ships report ready to fire.” Guerrero didn’t look at him as she spoke. Her face still bore some of its flush from before.
“Fire.”
The New Jersey shook with her missiles’ departure. The trembling was twice as violent now that she had two launch tubes.
He watched his holoscreen as seven icons representing the missiles flashed across the battlespace.
“Reload new Hellborns immediately. Guerrero, have the others do the same.”
“Aye, sir.”
Only one of the seven-missile volley missed. The other six connected solidly, causing three of the pirate ships to burst into short-lived conflagrations, including the one that had only one missile allocated to it.
“Auto turrets engaging now, sir,” Candle said. “A second volley will soon be ready. Requesting new targets.”
“Sending you the targeting now.” Thatcher had just finished designating them on his screen, and he made the flicking gesture that would transmit the data to Candle’s console. Only three ships, this time, since based on his study of the profiles Guerrero had provided him, these targets were a little bigger, and better-armored.
Apparently recovered from her earlier misstep, the lieutenant turned toward him. “The attacking ships are decelerating, sir. It looks like they’re going to pull back.” Her voice was perfectly professional, free of resentment. He would have expected nothing less from her.
“Very good, Ops. Tell Major Avery it’s time to launch Attack Shuttle One and head to that asteroid.” It had been clear for a while now which asteroid the pirates were defending. “Tell him to notify me immediately if he encounters an unexpected level of resistance there.”
“Aye, sir.”
Candle straightened from his work. “Second volley ready to launch, sir.”
“Fire in sync with our other ships.”
“Firing.”
Their second volley had less success, as the pirates were doing everything they could to introduce evasive maneuvers into their retreat. Even so, one of them caught a missile on her primary thrusters, maiming her enough for the second to slam home, finishing her off.
Then, just as it seemed the other two targets would escape, another Hellborn winged one of them, causing her to twist sideways, exposing her starboard side to Frontier autoturrets. For the space of two seconds, they tore up that section of hull, until the target could right herself once more.
Five seconds later, almost out of nowhere, she exploded. Looks like we hit something vital. “Excellent work, XO.” Passing on compliments to the other ships’ tactical officers would have to wait. He didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the battle.
Five of seventeen down. His heart raced, and endorphins flooded his body, filling him with the thrill of battle. Not just that: th
e thrill of decimating his foe.
I suppose I shouldn’t congratulate myself too much. They are just pirates.
Still, success tasted sweet.
“Ops, instruct the Charger and the Nightingale to break off from our formation in opposite directions. They’re to use the asteroids as cover, and until I tell them otherwise, they should only take shots that seem certain to hit. Tell the Lancer and Georgia to resume laserfire on that frigate’s shields. Candle, we’ll do the same.”
This time, the pirates didn’t seem quite as encouraged by Thatcher’s willingness to dump energy into the enemy frigate’s shields. They clustered behind that frigate now, edging out to take potshots at one of the Frontier vessels before cowering back.
We’ve broken their fleet’s spirit. Time to break its back.
The corvettes he’d sent through the asteroid field had passed the huddled pirate formation, and he judged it was time. “Guerrero, tell Charger and Nightingale to hit that logistics ship with everything they’ve got. When the pirates retaliate, they’re to use asteroids for cover, but until they do I want them to unleash hell on that thing.”
“Aye, sir,” Guerrero said with evident relish.
The corvette captains must have been expecting orders along those lines, since they responded to Guerrero’s transmission with satisfying speed, opening with a Hellborn each, followed by a spray of lasers mixed with solid-core rounds from their autoturrets.
Some of the pirates did respond, bringing their ships about to fire back, but both corvette captains took the risk of hanging around long enough to unleash one more missile each. That done, they each withdrew behind the protection of an asteroid.
It was the third missile that finished the pirates’ logistics ship, turning it into a cloud of shrapnel and flame that quickly sputtered out in the airless void.
After that, it took less than two minutes for the pirate frigate’s shields to fail.
“Cease fire,” Thatcher barked. “Guerrero, offer them the chance to surrender.”
A few tense seconds passed as the pirates’ laserfire continued to play across Frontier shields, which by now were close to failing themselves.
Then, the enemy fire dried up.
“They’ve accepted your offer, sir.”
Thatcher nodded. “Inform them that boarding parties will arrive shortly.” He glanced at his holoscreen, which now showed a zoomed-out view of the entire system. Even though they’d made short work of the pirates, the Reardon battle group had made an uncomfortable amount of progress closing the gap. “We don’t have much time.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Undesignated Asteroid
Kava System, Lacuna Region
Earth Year 2290
Avery’s KS 7.62 sniper rifle, his favorite weapon, felt like dead weight in his hands.
He glanced back down the tunnel they’d entered through, at his power-suited marines lining the rock walls, their tension evident even through their armor. His gaze met Private Loeung’s, who’d joined the Jersey’s company recently. The marine’s eyes were wide.
Avery turned to eye the end of the tunnel. Tens of millions of dollars worth of equipment, all sitting around like worthless junk in this God-forsaken hole.
Beyond the tunnel mouth lay a massive cavern, which the pirates had locked down. The tunnel sloped up toward the exit, and if he poked his head into sight, he’d be greeted by two heavy machine gunners, who’d be more than happy to pump his power suit full of lead at high velocities.
He knew this thanks to Miller, who’d already had that experience. His suit had been sealed up, and the armor itself would make sure he didn’t bleed to death. But he was out for the count, for today at least. Possibly for weeks. Avery had ordered him bundled back to Attack Shuttle One after one glance at his vitals.
They have to know we’re going to take that cave eventually. He was sure of that, and it bothered him more than anything else. Pirates weren’t supposed to fight this hard to protect anything. Fighting this hard required sacrifice…it required brotherhood. No one knew that better than a marine.
The fact the pirates were still in there, still fighting, despite knowing they stood no chance against a professional military outfit…
It didn’t bode well for any corp in the north. The men and women in that cave weren’t just fighting for their own self-interest anymore. They were fighting for a cause, and causes had a way of fueling long campaigns, which became full-on offensive wars.
Probably, they know Reardon is on the way. But that didn’t matter. A pirate out only for his own self-interest would have surrendered by now. These people were true believers. And that was bad news.
As for Avery and his platoon, they needed to break through, fast. The asteroid was messing with comms. That probably meant it was webbed through with metals, a good target for mining. It also meant Avery had no idea what was happening in space. Were the pirates beaten? Had Frontier lost any ships?
With Thatcher in command, he shouldn’t have worried. But he found it was impossible not to, down here in the dark, cut off from everything.
Regardless, Reardon ships were on the way, and that put a time limit on clearing the cavern so Kibishii’s cargo shuttles could start hauling away whatever supplies it held.
He looked down at the long weapon cradled in his hands, blue-lit indicators glowing softly in the dark. If I could just get off one shot…
But those gunners would take care of him before he finished lining it up. Even if he managed to take one of them out, the other would remain, leaving his marines in more or less the same situation, except without a commander.
Part of him wanted to rush into the cavern kamikaze-style, figure out a way to take down both gunners, maybe go down in a blaze of glory. But he remembered Rose’s actions on Oasis, and the danger they’d put his people in.
It doesn’t serve anyone for a leader to put his life on the line for nothing. There’s a time and place for it, sure, but only when it truly counts.
“We need to move.” He spoke over a platoon-wide channel, his voice grim.
“What are you thinking, Major?” In the weeks since they left Freedom System, Wilson had recovered from the injury he’d taken outside Frontier HQ. Which was no mean feat, considering he’d had an arm hacked off. But the new prosthetic was installed, calibrated, and working just like a biological one. Better, for some things.
“We’re going to take some hits.” Avery had to drag the words out of himself, and he felt himself wince, glad for the tunnel’s poor visibility.
His marines only nodded. They knew that as well as he did. One could argue that this was exactly what they’d signed up for. To risk dying in order to save friends, to protect loved ones.
Of course, a more cynical observer would have said they’d signed up for the pay a private military corp offered, which was four times what Space Fleet paid. Maybe that was true for other corps’ employees. But the Frontier marines had stayed marines, even after going private.
“We need to take advantage of the low gravity. They know we’re in power armor, and they’re used to thinking of that as a bit heavy, a bit cumbersome. Maybe they’ve already realized that we can move faster here in the lower gravity, realized it logically, but I can guarantee their reflexes haven’t adjusted to it yet.” He switched off his comm to draw a ragged breath, then switched it back on. “We’re going to pour through that hole and take advantage of all three dimensions. Every marine through takes a different direction from the one before him—right, left, up, or straight ahead. Flood in and scatter, find cover as quick as you can, and lay down covering fire for the ones behind you. Take out those heavy gunners.”
“Oorah.” The marines’ trademark battle cry came back to him over the comm, soft and earnest, but uttered by everyone in the platoon.
“Let’s go.”
Wilson was the first one through, the crazy bastard. Assault rifle blazing in his hands, he pounded into the cavern and out of sight. “Go, go, go!�
�� Avery screamed, waving the others through, his eyes on Wilson’s vitals. Amazingly, they remained green.
With a squad’s worth already inside the cavern, Avery couldn’t contain himself anymore. He pounded in after the last man, and as he passed into the cave, a broad, low crate caught his eye where it was affixed to metal brackets bolted into the cavern floor.
Loeung slumped against it, his power armor leaking atmosphere and blood that came out as a red, crystallized mist.
Avery checked the marine’s vitals and winced. He was dead.
At the same time, he realized he’d failed to account for the same low gravity he’d discussed with his marines. His steps were taking him higher than was safe, and from a dozen meters away a pirate fired at him from a recess in the rock.
The asteroid’s interior had no atmosphere to act as a medium for sound, but if it had, Avery would have heard shotgun rounds whizzing past his ear. His suit’s proximity sensors told him so.
The range was too close for the sniper rifle, so he shifted it to the left as he came down from the peak of his jump, whipping his sidearm from his right holster and firing over and over in the pirate’s direction. He’d only meant to cover himself, but just before falling out of sight he saw the pirate’s body being propelled slowly backward from the impact of Avery’s rounds.
That works, too. He landed near Loeung and shoved the marine’s body out of the way, clearing a place for him to shoot. It was no way to treat a fallen comrade, but sometimes battle called for such indignities.
Night vision washed the cavern green, and he scanned for a target. His marines had neutralized one of the heavy gunners, but the remaining one was still raining hell on his people.
Steadying his breath, Avery nestled his sniper on the lip of the crate. In, out. In, out. He pushed the second breath out in a steady whoosh, and with all the oxygen expelled from his lungs, his body steadied.
He squeezed the trigger with a lover’s gentle touch. The sniper kicked a little, and the heavy gunner slumped backward, his reign of terror ended.
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