The Hope, critically wounded, was unable to disengage its engines and rammed with two other Second Fleet ships. The enemy vessels took substantial damage, but with the Hope so far behind enemy lines it was quickly set upon and destroyed. Seaman winced as the starship exploded, showering nearby ships with massive chunks from its hull.
The most dramatic losses, however, came by way of the enemy LO9D cannons.
The Dreadnaught Cortisan Dawn maneuvered into position as Seaman prescribed, blocking direct planetary fire from Third Fleet’s Jericho’s Triumph. But the Triumph had no intention of tiptoeing around the Dawn to line up its shot against the planet. Instead, it charged its cannons and fired a single LOD9 round into the Dawn amidship. The vessel exploded spectacularly, first by way of two orbs of fire that emanated above and below the impact point. The hull ruptured from inside-out as the top and bottom decks flowered into hard vacuum. Finally, the titanic wave of energy rippled across the surface until it erupted out the Dawn’s sides in all directions. Only a trace of the original round’s energy made it to the surface, but it was lost amidst the sea, far from its intended planet-side target—if it had any to begin with, Seaman noted.
Jericho’s Triumph’s action wasn’t without repercussions. That much energy in such close proximity was more than the enemy Dreadnaught had probably bargained for. Shrapnel berated the Triumph’s belly like a fragmentation detonator trapped under a Marine’s gut. Seaman had seen such infantry horrors relayed via holo feed before, but never in person. He supposed this was the closest he’d ever come to seeing a ship suffer a corollary fate. Thousands of small punctures riddled the Dreadnaught’s underside—none of which were fatal by themselves. But taken collectively, the Triumph hemorrhaged air, energy, and sailors into hard vacuum. While the starship wasn’t necessarily “dead in the water,” it certainly was out of the fight, including all of its belly-mounted LO9D cannons. Like every other disabled ship this close to Prime, it would share the fate of tearing through the planet’s atmosphere and colliding with the surface. It was only a matter of time.
Second Fleet’s Telmadorian was another enemy Dreadnaught to fire its LO9Ds on one of Seaman’s ships. Whether just the circumstances of the two ships’ positions or that the enemy ship learned from the Triumph's mistake, the Telmadorian was farther from its victim before firing two orbit-to-surface rounds. The target was Seaman’s Battleship the Pride of Albertan, which took one round to the bow and the other to the bridge. The blasts breached the ship in half, folding the ends down as if pulled by too much weight. Still, the resulting explosions struck local ships with debris and took out several unlucky Talons.
The Triumph’s and Telmadorian’s use of LO9D cannons against other starships revealed an element of desperation that Seaman was not expecting. The acts were brutal, to be sure. But the fact that commanders had diverted so far from the rules of engagement—both in firing on Prime and other warships—spoke of immense collective anxiety. While the two Fleets’ combined resources were more than a challenge for First Fleet, Seaman couldn’t help but feel that Moldark was losing control. Perhaps his men were coming unnerved too—coming to grips with what they’d done. Such brutal and indiscriminate violence wasn’t human. Genocide was a fetish of monsters.
And all monsters need to be stopped, Seaman thought. But with the Black Labyrinth retreating further into the safety of the other fleets, Seaman felt his opportunity for cutting off the snake’s head slipping away from him. Inwardly, he hoped that the opposing captains would come to their senses and wake up from whatever stupor Moldark had put them in. He hoped they would turn on the venomous leader and put an end to this insanity. After all, when Moldark was done with Prime, what was the next system he would assault?
“Nooo,” Seaman said under his breath as two Dreadnaughts closed over the limping Labyrinth. He clenched his fists. The very thought of Moldark escaping to decimate some other world made Seaman sick to his stomach. He’d rather plow the Fortuna into the Labyrinth’s conning tower and sacrifice his entire crew before letting that ship get away. But Seaman knew he’d be taken out before he ever got the chance. “No!”
“Sirs,” Teloni said from her sensors console. “We’re picking up significant weapons fire from a new location.”
“From where?” Seaman spun on Teloni and strode toward her console.
“From behind the enemy fleets, Commodore. And they seem to be attacking…” Teloni paused as if to double-check her readings. “On the Labyrinth.”
DiAntora looked at Seaman. “But we have no ships in that direction.”
“That’s correct,” Seaman replied. “Teloni, can you give me a visual?”
“Yes, sir.” Teloni busied herself on three different holo screens, attempting to clarify an image. “On screen, sir.”
What Seaman saw on the main holo display baffled him. An alien vessel, the likes of which he’d never seen, appeared on the far side of the conflict, pouring weapons fire at Third Fleet. Specifically, on the Black Labyrinth. Additionally, it deployed several starfighter squadrons of unknown configuration as well as dozens of unidentified vessels.
“Someone tell me what we’re looking at,” Seaman said without taking his eyes from the main display. It was hard to make out the details since enemy ships continued to pass in and out of the heavily zoomed image and obscure the foreign vessels.
“I think I see a decommissioned Sypeurlion Jackal-class fighter,” said the weapons officer, speaking as though unsure of the information’s help.
“And an old Wilda-class starfighter,” the navigation officer said.
“That yellow ship appears to be a modified Gull-class heavy freighter,” Teloni added. “In fact, most of those ships seem to be retrofitted.”
“So what you’re telling me is that they’re not flying for any one particular faction,” Seaman said, looking back at the sensors officer.
Teloni nodded, but with a sense of reservation. “I mean, the only ships that appear to have any cohesion are those alien starfighters.”
“And you don’t have a listing for them?”
“Negative, sir. The only—wait.”
“What is it?” Seaman and DiAntora moved behind Teloni’s console.
“We’ve seen these fighters before, but at a distance.”
Seaman studied Teloni’s results. “Over Oorajee.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You think they’re Jujari?” DiAntora asked him.
“I don’t know what they are, but they attacked Third Fleet before, and now they’ve followed it from Oorajee. Which means—”
“They’re tracking Moldark.”
Seaman nodded. “I don’t know how, and right now, I don’t care. All I know is they seem to be on our side.” He turned back to his holo screens and started regrouping ships and aligning new target priorities. “DiAntora, let’s help clear a path to the Labyrinth for those ships.”
The Sekmit whipped her tail once. “Aye-aye, Commodore.”
30
“Granther Company has reached low orbit, Colonel,” Azelon said. She stood beside Caldwell on the bridge, eyes darting between several holo screens.
“What’s their ETA, Smarty Pants?” Caldwell replied.
“Eleven minutes, twenty-one seconds until safely onboard the Spire, sir.”
Caldwell studied the main holo, monitoring the Republic Fleet’s movements. First Fleet engaged Second and Third Fleets, as per Willowood’s forecast. The sage mystic had employed her entire company to work alongside Piper in the hopes of winning over the Repub’s largest fleet. And it seemed to work. First Fleet was repositioning themselves to act as a blockade between Moldark’s ships and the planet. The strategy was desperate and risky, but the right choice if the Fleet Commander wanted to save more lives.
“Whoever’s in charge of First Fleet is as brave as bare balls in a blizzard,” Caldwell said.
“But sir, what if it’s a female?” Azelon asked.
“Then she’s still got balls.”
<
br /> Azelon tilted her head but did not reply.
“I want us in that fight,” Caldwell said after a moment. “They’re going to need support if they want to stop Moldark.”
“But, sir, it will take us quite a while to navigate around the battlespace in order to—”
“I don’t want to go around, sweet cheeks. We’re gonna apply pressure from the rear.”
“An ingenious strategy, sir. Split the enemy’s attention.”
“Something like that.” Caldwell turned to TO-96. “I want your squadrons driving straight through that mess. Hit the Labyrinth with everything you’ve got. No other target matters. You hear me?”
“Of course, sir,” TO-96 said with a reassuring tone. “You’re standing one meter, twenty-one centimeters from me, and speaking at ninety-two decibels. Of course, I hear you.”
“Smartass. Prepare to deploy your damn Fangs, son. And get Sootriman back out there while you’re at it. We’re gonna need as many guns in this fight as we can muster.”
“As you command, sir. All fighters are refitting now.”
“Good. Flow, Cheeks. You ready to blow some splick up?”
The former Marines grinned ear to ear behind their weapons consoles. “We thought you’d never ask, Colonel,” Flow said. “Been a hot minute since we toasted anything.”
“I hear that. Once Brass Balls’ fighters are clear of the Spire, I want you covering the squadrons’ advance. Nothing touches them. Copy?”
“Hard copy, Colonel. We’ll give ’em hell.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Caldwell turned to Azelon. “De-cloak once the fighters are clear. I want to split the enemy’s attention and get them worried there might be more of us. I also need to know the second Magnus’s shuttle is within a safe range.”
“You will be the first to know, sir.”
“Good. Now use that magical brain of yours to help keep our fighters safe.”
“My magical brain, sir?”
“It’s a term of endearment,” TO-96 said with a consoling tone.
“Consider me endeared,” Azelon replied with a nod of her chin.
Caldwell withdrew a plasma lighter from his pocket and rolled the tip of his cigar through the blue flame. Satisfied with the pre-light, he placed the cigar back in his mouth and toked several puffs until he could draw thick white smoke. “Time to kick ass, people.”
* * *
Ezo had barely enough time to hit the head while his Fang got refit. He’d been able to splash some water in his face, down a protein sup bar, and then return to the hangar bay. He ran across the flight deck, whirling a hand in the air. “We’re going back out,” he shouted, just as the deployment alert sounded down the hangar bay. “Helmets on!” All thirty-nine Fang pilots sat upright and then bolted for their starfighters.
Sootriman waited beneath Ezo’s Fang with her hands on her hips. “And just where do you think you’re headed, husband?”
“You didn’t hear? Caldwell’s ordered a full assault on the Labyrinth. ’Six says you and the Magistrates are needed too.”
“Oh, I heard. It just seems like you were planning on leaving me again without some sugar.”
Ezo blushed. “Sugar?”
Sootriman leaned down and kissed him. Whatever expectations Ezo had of a quick smooch were dashed when she grabbed his shoulders and held him in place. At first Ezo resisted the prolonged affection, but soon warmed to it as the kiss became more impassioned. Sootriman finally let go, but Ezo’s lips were still puckered.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“To remind you to stay alive out there.”
“I might need one more reminder—so I don’t forget.”
She smiled at him. “There’s plenty more when we get back to Ki Nar Four.”
Ezo stood up a little straighter. “You know, I’ve been so preoccupied with winning, with surviving, that I think I’ve forgotten about…”
“About life after war?”
Ezo nodded.
“Me too,” Sootriman said. “But we can’t forget. The whole reason we’re fighting is because we have something to go back to.”
“And there are only so many tax incentives you can give your Magistrates before they—”
“Start throwing it in my face. Trust me, they already have.”
The two of them shared a laugh before the sound of Fangs starting up brought them back to the seriousness of the moment.
“I miss it,” Ezo said, his eyes looking off in the near distance. “Not just life before all this. I mean, I miss life with you.” He shook his head. “It’s weird how all this has brought us together again. All this fighting.”
“It does have its place.” She reached out, grabbed Ezo’s flight suit, and pulled him close. “But you and I? We’re not professional soldiers. Not like the others. So when this is over, we have a life to make together.”
“Ezo copies.”
“No, not Ezo. You.”
Ezo nodded. “I copy.”
Sootriman held him there a moment longer and then kissed him again. When she was done, she released him and walked away. “Let’s finish this.”
* * *
Ricio flew beneath the XTS shuttle’s shadow all the way out of orbit, as per Magnus’s instructions. From what he gathered, Magnus’s ship had been marked “friendly” to Moldark and would not suffer the same fate as every other transport trying to make orbit. Ricio felt it was best simply to comply and ask questions later. All that mattered was that Piper’s rescue mission had been a success, and everyone was making it back to the Spire in one piece. Had Willowood not threatened Ricio to take her, he never would have signed on for the wild idea, but he knew better than to cross the mystics, no matter their age or size.
“Sir, this is TO-96,” the bot said, appearing in Ricio’s HUD.
“I can see that, but thanks for the heads up, ’Six.”
TO-96 nodded. “As soon as Piper is back inside the Spire, your orders are to refuel, rearm, and then deploy with the rest of Fang Company. The Colonel has ordered an all-asset assault on the Black Labyrinth.”
“It’s about time.”
“What is?” Piper asked. Her bony elbows had been digging into his sides the whole trip.
“We’re making a run on the Labyrinth as soon as I get you back on the Spire.”
Piper seemed to hesitate. “You’re going to kill him.”
“Moldark? Hell yeah, we are.”
The child seemed to retreat into herself.
“He’s your grandfather,” Ricio said, reminding himself. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Mr. Ricio. He’s a bad man. And we’ve got to stop him.”
Ricio slowed as they approached the Spire’s starboard side, aiming for a forward hangar bay. “I’m still sorry, Piper. You’ve had to see more than any kid ever should.”
Ricio felt her tiny shoulders shrug. “Thanks for helping me save Awen and Mr. Lieutenant Magnus.”
“No problem, kid.”
Piper leaned forward and pulled the printed picture of Ricio’s family from the flight console. For whatever reason, it seemed she hadn’t noticed the image until just now. Perhaps the anticipation of rescuing Magnus had been too all-consuming.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“That’s my wife, Celine, and son, Arthur.”
“She’s very beautiful. And he’s handsome.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”
“Where do they live?” she asked. “They weren’t on—down there, were they?” She pointed over her shoulder toward Prime.
“They were on Capriana, yes. But they’re safe now, heading to another system.”
Piper got quiet for a moment. “Do you love them?”
“Of course. Very much.”
“Then why did you leave them?”
“What do you mean, kid?”
“Well, you left them to fly ships and fight, right?”
“Right.” R
icio sighed. “I left them because I love them.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Ricio tried to think of a different way to say what it meant for him to join the Navy. “Love is a strange thing, Piper.”
“How?”
“Well, there are lots of different ways to express it. The best way is to be close to those you love. Physically and emotionally, I mean. But you can also show people you love them by doing things to protect them, even if those actions take you far away from them physically.”
“But not emotionally.”
“Right.” He nodded and then took the picture from her and slipped it back under a bezel on the console. “So even though I’m far away right now, fighting for—” He almost said, “The Republic,” but caught himself. “Fighting for freedom, this picture reminds me that the real reason I fly, the reason I risk my life, is for them.”
“I think that’s what my daddy did for me,” Piper replied, almost inaudible.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, Piper. Not at all.”
All of a sudden, the child twisted around to look at his face. “And don’t die out there, you hear me?”
He laughed. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good. ’Cause if you do, I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna kill me yourself?”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
“Deal. Now, let’s get you back to your grandmother. Hold on.”
* * *
Caldwell watched the Fangs and Magistrate ships pour out of the Spire’s hangar bays like Limeridon azure locusts, engines burning bright against the void’s deep black. He whispered a prayer to the mystics as he watched them speed toward Labyrinth. He hoped their efforts would be enough—they had to be. They weren’t going to get another chance like this again.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 195
