by Dean Henegar
Fifteen raiders separated from the two approaching motherships and burned hard toward the task force. A full complement of raiders would have numbered sixteen for this size of mothership; one must have been lost in an earlier battle and not yet replaced. The smaller gnomish clans didn’t have heavy manufacturing abilities on their stations and relied on buying their ships from the more prosperous clans, often at ridiculously high rates, depending on how much the smaller clan was disliked.
“Main batteries on the Franklin will target the motherships. Secondaries and all others will hit the raiders on my command. Save our missiles for now. I want full magazines when we hit the station. They’re not going to be carrying prisoners on the motherships and raiders, so don’t spare the shot,” Slater ordered. Both the motherships had been in the system the whole time he had, which told Slater that any valuable loot, such as prisoners, would have been transferred to the Flobblegunk station long ago.
“Open fire,” he ordered. He had waited until the raiders were well within secondary battery range for the Franklin and main gun range for the rest of the fleet before starting their ambush. The mighty Franklin shuddered as all its weapons let loose in a furious broadside. A beam of light from his new main battery laser pulsed out, touching the bow of an approaching mothership. A brief flicker announced the shields going down as the beam tore into its target’s thin armor. The benefit of a larger main laser was not just in its ability to burn through an enemy’s defenses quickly; it was in the heat the weapon generated on the hull itself. Adjacent compartments that hadn’t been breached would increase in temperature enough to cook anyone inside. When the beam’s pulse concluded, a neat hole had been burned into the top of the cylindrical vessel.
The first mothership’s shields were out when the main battery railgun rounds arrived. Where the damage from the laser had been impressive, the destruction wrought by the huge kinetic shells was catastrophic. All four rounds were on target, the mothership not having had time to even begin evasive maneuvers. The ship seemed to shudder as each round punched through the damaged armor and kept on going, tearing through deck after deck before finally emerging out the aft in a gout of debris and atmosphere. Secondary explosions from the breached main power plant erupted, and the ship was torn to pieces. A single volley from his new and insanely powerful main battery weapons had destroyed a gnomish mothership.
“Good shooting, Franklin,” Captain Falkoff said over the fleet channel as the fire from the Franklin’s secondaries and the rest of the task force began to hit the swarm of raiders. The crew of the raiders was not caught as flat-footed as their mothership; each started aggressive evasive maneuvers even as they began to return fire on the Franklin.
Slater fired his second main battery volley at the other mothership as blasts from the raiders began to pepper his shields. He could feel the impacts burn off shield energy. It wasn’t nearly enough to drop them yet, but the cumulative effect would do so eventually. Thankfully, the swarm of rounds and laser blasts his task force was throwing at the enemy began to swat down the jinxing raiders. A single hit from a five-inch gun was enough to bring down a shield and do some damage, but multiple hits were typically required for a kill.
The shields on the Franklin dropped to ninety-five percent as the number of raiders dwindled from fifteen to ten. His second main gun volley had struck the other mothership with less spectacular yet still effective results. Only the laser and one of the rounds had hit the now-evading vessel. It was enough to burn through the shields and tear out a section of the hull. Something vital had been hit, and the ship lost all its thrust, leaving it easy meat for a third volley.
The damage from the raiders diminished as their numbers dropped. When they were down to five, the swarm turned tail and burned hard back toward the station. It didn’t save them, and the firepower of the task force soon chopped them down. Slater brought the drives back online, and his force began to head toward the station. After delaying briefly to dock with a large chunk of a destroyed mothership, Slater sent his drones to process it as they approached their target.
“Impressive, Commodore. I think I’m in love with this new ship,” Captain Guzman said over the command channel. The other captains joined in to agree. While their performance still showed that the crews were learning the ins and outs of their vessels, they were coming together quickly.
“A few raiders we hit from ambush isn’t exactly a challenge, but I’ll take an easy fight over a difficult one any day,” Slater said.
“When we take that station, I think I’m going to want to upgrade Huracan to a battlecruiser, Commodore,” Captain Moreno said. The other captains laughed and made their requests.
“Settle down, folks. Before we can see about upgrades, we need to take the station,” Slater said. He enjoyed that they were building camaraderie together, but he wanted to make sure they were focused on the task at hand.
“Commodore, we have unusual activity at the main jump point,” Captain Peirce said, drawing Slater’s attention to the system scan. Due to the amount of traffic it received, they had labeled the jump point leading deeper into gnomish space as the main jump point in the system. Multiple contacts were jumping in—far more than the normal traffic they had observed so far.
“Counting, twenty, thirty, forty-five, now fifty new contacts, Commodore,” Peirce continued. Slater could see for himself. The scanners couldn’t identify ship types yet, but this was too many to be gnomes from this system and the council wouldn’t arrive for another week.
“Sir, one of the ships is transmitting a systemwide notification on all known gnomish frequencies,” one of the officers on a corvette announced.
Slater tapped into the band and watched the message. “This is a systemwide alert. All combat-capable vessels in this system are called upon to join the council in a crusade against a common foe. A derelict vessel has gone rogue and seeks to consume you all. The council is sending a large fleet to deal with the problem, but all available ships in the system are ordered to conform to treaty Z1457b and lend aid for as long as the threat is in this region,” the creature on the display ordered. The announcer was a race he hadn’t seen before. From what he could gauge from the video, the green humanoid was slender and taller than an orc, possessing a mouth full of sharp teeth along with long claws on each hand. The creature wore armor of a type Slater hadn’t seen before. His database pulled up the race of the creature; it was a troll.
Troll: Trolls are known for their physical strength and insatiable hunger. Able to regenerate from all but the most grievous wounds, trolls are very hard to kill. The race is known to fight as mercenaries—very expensive mercenaries. They do not take prisoners and are known to consume their victims, often beginning while the victim is still alive. Fire-based attacks, beam weapons, and acidic substances generate wounds that a troll cannot regenerate from quickly. Use caution when engaging this foe.
“Wow, haven’t run into these before,” Captain Falkoff said.
“Trolls, nasty things, I’ve heard. Some of our outposts were hit by a mercenary band of these things once. Only one survivor was ‘spared’ to tell the tale. The monsters had eaten off the survivor’s hands and feet before leaving him behind,” Captain Perez added.
Slater could feel something reach out and latch onto his core energy. It wasn’t a presence that could communicate or something trying to take over, just a scan of some sort. Still, he had hoped the extra shielding over his core would have prevented any council forces from tracking him this easily.
“Bring the task force about. Maximum group acceleration toward our escape route,” Slater ordered. The ships flipped about and began to head back in the direction of the jump point leading toward home.
“Looks like we’ve been made, sir. The enemy ships are turning toward us and ordering the gnomes to engage. One of the larger clans is resisting the commands, it looks like,” Falkoff said.
Indeed, Slater could monitor the conversation as one of the larger gnomish clans put up
a fuss at having to send its ships out to do the council’s dirty work without compensation. The troll representative wasted no time in arguing; instead, he issued an extermination order against the clan while sending several of his ships and those of other gnomish clans—who were no doubt happy at a chance for pillage—to attack them.
“I’m perfectly happy to let them fight amongst themselves,” Falkoff said as the opposing forces squared off against each other.
“Getting returns on enemy fleet disposition. Looks like smaller vessels and a smattering of light cruisers, for the most part. A hodgepodge of races and ship types,” one of the crew on scanners announced. Slater kept the group channel open; the announcements and observations from his various ships had been orderly. If the crews started talking over each other or generating too much confusion, he’d restrict the channel to only captains.
Taking a look at the ships, Slater noticed several kobold vessels of the type that had boarded his derelict shortly after he was created. There were other gnomish motherships, likely from the next system over, and something akin to a corvette that the orcs used as a scout ship. A half dozen light cruisers of orcish design provided the main punch for his foes. There were also three small ships of a type he was unfamiliar with but somehow stood out to him as council vessels. One of the mystery vessels then sent a commlink directly to the Franklin. Hesitantly, Slater answered.
“Ah, there is the wayward child. Heave to, and I’ll make this as painless as possible, renegade,” the troll from earlier taunted.
“Not a chance. We’re too far ahead of you, troll. We’ll be long gone from this system before you even get close,” Slater replied.
“So? We’ll keep chasing you. The council can’t let you off the hook so easily. There is a reason why they activated my teams to catch you. You should be honored that kill team x10, team z11104, and team x974b2 have been assigned to destroy you. We’re the best the council has,” the troll taunted.
“The council really needs to step up their game if you’re the best they can do,” Slater replied before cutting off the link.
“Looks like they are all light vessels, Commodore Slater. That’s how they got here ahead of our estimate—they’ve split their fleet. The gnomes are taking some time to get organized, and half the attackers are breaking off to deal with the recalcitrant clan. Should we engage the council ships heading our way or continue to flee?” Captain Falkoff asked. The captain looked ready to fight, and several of the other captains were nodding when Falkoff suggested engaging the approaching council ships.
Slater thought about the situation. There were twenty-two council ships and a dozen gnomish motherships heading their way, quite a number even if they were smaller vessels than his battlecruiser. Still, these ships were prepared and ready to fight. Not to mention, the vessels commanded by the kill teams would likely be difficult opponents. Even more gnomish motherships were also getting underway. Though slower than his task force, they could still potentially swarm him with raiders should he be slowed by damage from an encounter with the council ships. No, he needed to flee if they wanted to survive.
“Our best bet is to get out of the system while we can. If any of us have a drive unit damaged, it would be a death sentence,” Slater ordered. The other captains agreed, and they made their best possible speed toward the jump point. The ships of the council fleet were gaining on them, but the task force would reach the jump point well before they were inside weapons range.
Still, with the council’s ability to call other races to action, Slater felt the jaws of a trap closing in on him. Even if they beat the swarm of pursuers in the next system, the ones after that were populated by hostile races. With the council’s ability to sense his core when their vessels were in the same system as him, he couldn’t hide behind camouflage, as he had planned. No, his current plan would lead them to disaster in the next system or the one after that. If his task force and the humans under his command were to survive, Slater would have to take a much greater risk.
— 26 —
Slater took stock of his options as the task force exited the jump point. In this system, he could continue to the jump point that was the long road home, or he could jump back into the system that the dragon lived in. Neither option seemed good, but he thought there just might be a chance for his other ships to survive if he could draw the dragon off. Illissa had told him the dragon was attracted to his core energy, a danger that he just might be able to use to his advantage.
“Captains, join the secure channel,” Slater ordered. He didn’t want the rest of the crew to hear his plans just yet.
“I made a mistake in the gnomish system. I got greedy and wanted to gather salvage from the Flobblegunk clan before we left the system. We should have just left immediately after the ships were completed, and I fear I may have cost us our best chance to escape. We had a long road home, but between our firepower and the camouflage systems we have on our ships, I was confident we could slip past any opponents,” Slater admitted.
“Commodore, can’t we still enact that plan? Sure, the enemy fleet will enter the system and see which jump point we took, but they would have known that was the route we were taking anyway,” Captain Guzman said.
“No. Unfortunately, at least three of the enemy ships can sense the presence of my core. They will be hot on our heels and can call on any available forces in-system to attack us, blocking our escape and rendering our camouflage useless,” Slater said.
“So we stand and fight, take out these ships that can sense you, and continue on our way,” Captain Falkoff offered. It was one of the options Slater was considering, but it was even riskier than the one he had settled on.
“That’s not without its risk. The enemy can hit us with over twenty smaller vessels. While our ships are powerful, there is a high chance at least one of us would be disabled or destroyed. To make matters worse, when we turn to fight, other ships will likely join in. Gnomes were already mobilizing their motherships, and while the motherships are slow, the raiders they carry can easily overtake us. We did fine against fifteen raiders that were caught unawares, but I fear we wouldn’t have such an easy time against a hundred that were ready for a fight,” Slater said, then waited to see if there were any other suggestions or arguments before continuing. There weren’t.
“Our best path to success is to take the unexpected route. We go into the system where I fled the dragon. The creature is attracted to my core energy, and once in the system, I’ll remove any shielding and see if I can draw the creature away from the rest of the task force. In the meantime, you will separate from the Franklin and make your best possible speed out of the system. The journey home will only take half as much time as our other plan since the path through the dragon system has far fewer jumps. Getting you and the tech I have developed back has to be our key goal,” Slater advised. The other captains looked shocked that he was willing to take a risk such as the one he was proposing.
“I have to protest, sir. We can slip through and avoid the dragon. It shouldn’t be a problem,” Guzman offered.
“I know it is a huge risk I’ll be taking, but your ships are powerful enough to fight through anything standing between you and home as long as I can draw the dragon away. Also, with me out of the task force, the council will have no way to track you directly,” Slater said.
“Why not keep the task force together to face the dragon? Surely we have enough firepower to kill such a beast,” Captain Falkoff said.
“That may be so, but it doesn’t solve the problem of the council detecting me once they enter the system. No, my plan is the best one to ensure that you and the tech upgrades make it back to humanity. I’ll make this an order if I have to, but I would prefer that you don’t force me to,” Slater said. The other captains were quiet, each contemplating the likely outcome for the Franklin if it was caught between a dragon and an enemy fleet.
“Aye, sir, we’ll go with your plan. Set a course to dragon territory,” Falkoff said. The
task force continued at maximum acceleration toward the jump point. If by some miracle they could get there before the council ships arrived, the enemy ships would head to the other jump point, assuming Slater was taking the safer route home.
Luck was not on their side, and six hours before the task force reached the jump point, the council fleet entered the system. It took them less than five minutes to locate Slater and turn in pursuit. The enemy vessels made their best time toward the human threat. Other ships continued to jump into the system, and before Task Force Vengeance hit the jump point, the ship count was over seventy. Granted, the enemy fleet was strung out over a large area of space and would take some time to reorganize for a fight. The entire task force held its collective breath as it transited into the next system, everyone breathing a sigh of relief when no dragon was found lurking at the jump point.
“No contacts on the board,” one of the crew manning the scanners on the Nestor advised.
“Captain Falkoff, I believe you are the senior officer after myself. I order you to take command of the task force. Burn as hard as you can toward the jump point leading home. Just have the Tiburon dock with the Franklin for a moment so I can offload the rest of my crew,” Slater said, wanting the few humans aboard to have a better chance at survival.
“Negative, sir. We’re fine right where we’re at. We’ve all discussed this, and we want to finish the fight at your side,” Lieutenant Camden said.
Slater looked on in shock, humbled by their gesture. “Lieutenant, I order you and the others to leave the Franklin. Get the other ships home safe, and I’ll join you when I can.”
“Sir, my orders from the admiralty were to protect this vessel until it could be recovered. As far as I’m concerned, those orders haven’t changed. I’m staying,” Lieutenant Camden said.
