“We can't wait here,” her second-in-command, Senior Lieutenant Nelyubov, said. “We'll be a sitting target for a salvo.”
“Nor can we abandon the refugees, and with a hole that big in their side, they can't maneuver worth a damn.” Turning behind her, she said, “Weitzman, get me a damage report from the Ausori. I need to know how bad they've been hit.”
“Trying, ma'am,” the harried communications technician replied. “Everything's confused as hell. Whoever's on the bridge doesn't want to talk to us.” He glanced across at a second screen, and said, “I have Lieutenant Harper on the Daedalus, ma'am, requesting combat instructions.”
Nodding, she replied, “Have her pull in close to the Neander and run interference. Hopefully she can keep some fire off their backs. Helm, slow acceleration, towards the enemy ships. If they're shooting at us, they aren't shooting at the civilians.”
“Missile tubes on-line,” her tactical officer, Lieutenant Cantrell, reported. “Laser radiators deploying, Captain. I'll have a firing solution in a few seconds, and my readouts show us in firing range in a hundred and thirty seconds.”
“Come on,” Nelyubov said, muttering at the status display. “When we've cleaned up this party, I'm going to have some words with Elevator Control.” With a curt nod, he said, “All decks cleared for action, ma'am.”
“Engines at one-quarter power,” Midshipman Armstrong said, turning from the helm. “Course computed and engaged, random walk pattern ready for deployment on your command.”
“At ten seconds before firing range,” Orlova said.
Leaning close to her, Nelyubov whispered, “If Jack Quinn wasn't running around below decks putting out fires, I know he'd be telling you that the ship can't withstand a serious battle. We took too much damage getting the refugees away.” Looking up at the tactical display, he added, “Two against one isn't great odds.”
“I have a match with the Neander warbook,” the sensor technician, Spaceman Spinelli said. “Bravo-class, about the size of our frigates. Listed here as scout-destroyers, whatever that means. Four missile tubes, light armament only.”
“Recon,” Orlova said. “They don't know where we are.”
“They'll not live to report,” Armstrong said with a confident smile.
“They don't have to,” Nelyubov replied. “Knowing the Xandari, I'd guess they'll just assume any ship that doesn't make it home will have found us, and act accordingly.”
“Orders, ma'am?” Cantrell asked.
“Fire at will, Lieutenant. Take them down.”
“Aye, ma'am,” she replied, running her hands across the controls, snapping firing solutions into position, preparing her missiles for launch as the laser cannon charged, seeping energy from the rest of the ship to unleash as one devastating bolt.
The enemy commander might not have strength on his side, but he was using what he had well. One of the ships was diving towards Alamo, the other moving over to the left, hoping to get around him for a firing run at the civilian vessel. Orlova could already see Harper moving Daedalus into an intercept course, and smiled at the audacious bravery of the hacker. She was completely outclassed, and gambling that the enemy didn't realize that. Exactly what she would have done in her place.
“Firing range in sixty seconds,” Spinelli said.
“I have the Ausori!” Weitzman said, shaking his head. “Captain Ghewon's reached their bridge, and wants to talk to you.”
“He damn well should have been there in the first place,” Nelyubov muttered, as Orlova slid on a headset.
“Orlova here. I need a damage report.”
“We've lost more than five-sixths of our fuel, and have sustained serious damage to the outer hull. Molpa says that he can fix the damage, but not for at least ninety-six hours.” The Neander paused, and said, “Captain, where are you going? We need your protection!”
“Leaving you behind is not an option, Ghewon,” she said. “Take any damage control procedures you can, and try and get some maneuvering thrusters working. We'll do everything we can to keep the heat off you, but I can't guarantee those bastards won't manage to get a couple of shots off.”
“Will do,” he replied. “I've got one of our shuttles out to pick up Ensign Cooper, and arrange for any medical attention.”
Nodding, she said, “Shuttle Two is still en route. Use them where you need them.” She looked across at the display, then said, “Things are about to get busy over here.”
“Understood. Good luck. Ausori out.”
Shaking his head, Nelyubov said, “You shouldn't have had to tell him to get his ship ready for battle, Maggie.”
“He's new to the job,” she replied.
“That's no excuse. Unless they get their act together over there, they'll get us all killed at this rate.” Running his eyes over the tactical display, he added, “One of them is liable to get past us, no matter what we do. We could split our fire?”
“No, we need to focus. One at a time,” Orlova said. “Caldwell, I want you to make the maximum possible mess of Target Alpha. We need to try and cripple it with the first salvo. Understood?”
Nodding, she replied, “Firing range in ten seconds. Midshipman, I need a good shot as soon as we enter range.”
“Initiating random walk,” the helmsman said. “Setting up firing pass for,” she glanced up at a monitor, “nine seconds mark.”
Orlova took a step forward, looking at the viewscreen, columns of information spilling down the side as they approached their pray. No longer were the Xandari a mysterious, unknown enemy, but that didn't make them any less deadly. She looked around the bridge, her crew working furiously at their stations, leaving her with nothing to do but wait and watch.
They'd have an easy five minutes in the firing range. Plenty of time, at least, with the velocity differential so low. The missiles would have an easy time finding their target, but the same would be distressingly true of the enemy.
“Sergeant Gurung has the platoon ready on the hangar deck,” Nelyubov said. “Shuttles One and Three are ready for launch.”
“Energy spike!” Spinelli reported. “Three missiles, heading right for us, bearing directly.”
“Midshipman, where's my pass?” Cantrell snapped.
“Coming around,” Armstrong replied, and Alamo danced to silent music as she swung around on her thrusters, pivoting to line up on her target for a scant millisecond, long enough for the laser to pump its stored energy into the enemy vessel, a brief burst of light too fast for the eye to see, leaving an angry black gouge running down the side of the destroyer. Alamo rocked as her missile salvo raced into space, three of them heading to eliminate their counterparts, the remainder pressing the attack.
“Heavy damage,” Erickson reported from the engineering station. “I'd say we've breached their atmospheric reservoir, as well as wiping out most of their thrusters. They can't maneuver.”
“Keep the missiles on target,” Orlova said. “Armstrong, forget random walk and bring us about. I want an extended firing solution on the second enemy vessel.”
“Target Two is on a direct collision course with Ausori, ma'am,” Spinelli reported. “They're faster than we are.”
“Initiating course change,” the midshipman said, struggling with the thrusters, guiding the computer onto the optimum path. Orlova frowned as she looked at the young cadet, for an instant contemplated taking the helm herself, but Armstrong quickly recovered, reaching down to ramp the engines up to full power, harnessing all the acceleration Alamo could muster in its pursuit.
“Laser charging,” Cantrell said. “Missile salvo ready to fire in thirty seconds.”
“They'll be in firing range of the Neander in forty,” Nelyubov said. “Not a bad safety margin.”
“Daedalus energy spike!” Spinelli said.
“What?” Armstrong replied. “They've only got dumb-shot. They c
an't possibly...”
“It's a shot across the bows,” Nelyubov replied. “They don't know what Harper's firing, and they can't take the risk. With a little luck, that'll divert a good portion of the salvo.”
“No,” Orlova said, shaking her head. “If this were a normal enemy, I'd agree with you, but we're fighting dead men. They knew, as soon as they saw Alamo, that they weren't going to live through this battle. They'll press the attack.” With a sigh, she said, “Lieutenant, you're only going to get one shot at this. Make it count.”
“Aye, ma'am,” she replied, holding her hands poised over the controls. No need to set up a special firing arc this time, Alamo already pointed directly at its prey. Behind them, six missiles exploded together, removing most of the trajectories from the screen, leaving only the remaining half of Alamo's first salvo, still heading towards their target.
“Ten seconds,” Nelyubov said, and Orlova caught herself holding her breath. Alamo was slowly creeping into range, sliding towards the optimum firing window despite the greater acceleration of the enemy, the trajectory tracks moving into position. At the exact instant, Cantrell fired, a second pulse of energy that flared the radiators white as the heat escaped into space. No long gauge on the hull this time, only a surge of power into the rear of the craft, burning out its primary engine in a fraction of a second, sending the vessel tumbling forward, on a course that would take it soaring just past the Neander vessel. The salvo of missiles was almost an afterthought, a second wave of death.
“Three impacts on the first ship, ma'am,” Spinelli said. He paused, then said, “Energy spike! Four of them, moving faster than anything I've ever seen.”
“Details, spaceman,” Nelyubov said.
“Nothing in the warbook, sir. Whatever they are, they're on a direct intercept course with the Ausori, impact in fifty seconds.”
Orlova shook her head, and said, “Contact Ghewon. Now would be a good time for them to get their thrusters working. Midshipman, put us on an intercept course.”
Armstrong gulped, then replied, “Aye, ma'am.”
“Target One has been destroyed,” Spinelli said. “That last salvo did it. Target Two is dropping escape pods.”
“Thank you, Spaceman,” Orlova said.
“I have Ghewon,” Weitzman reported.
Glancing at Nelyubov, she said, “Captain, can you alter course? Those missiles will be on you in seconds.”
“Negative, Captain,” the Neander replied. “We're still making repairs. In three minutes...”
“Too long,” she replied. “Evacuate the areas of the ship they are targeting, and get your damage control teams in position in case we get this wrong. Alamo out.”
“I can take out one of them with the laser,” Cantrell said. “No missile we've got can catch them.”
“Can you take out more than one of them?” Nelyubov asked.
“Not from our current position, and not from anywhere we can get to. And we've only got time for a single shot.”
Closing her eyes, Orlova said, “Try and work out which of them is going to do the most damage. Frank, contact sickbay and alert Doctor Duquesne to expect casualties. Prepare the shuttles for medical evacuation.”
“On it,” he said, reaching down for a headset. He paused, looked up, then said, “There wasn't anything more you could do. We were always going to get hurt if we ended up in a battle.”
“They're civilians, Frank, and people we were supposed to protect.”
“Daedalus is on the move!” Spinelli said. “Full speed towards the missiles, and they're on the right side of them!”
“If they hadn't fired their salvo,” Cantrell said, shaking her head. She froze, then said, “Spaceman, is that crazy fool putting her ship on a direct intercept course?”
Spinelli looked at Orlova, shocked, before replying, “No, ma'am. The missile tracks are too far apart. She could only block one of them.” He frowned, then said, “I think she's heading in between them, to equidistant points.”
Nodding, Orlova said, “She's got something in mind, and I think I can guess what. Salazar's decoys.”
A smile crossed Nelyubov's face, and he said, “Of course.”
“For the benefit of those not exposed to the wit and wisdom of Lieutenant Salazar...” Cantrell began.
“She's going to use escape pods to target the warheads. Weitzman, hook our security suite up to the launch mechanism, and tell Harper we'll do the shooting. Our targeting computers are an order of magnitude better than hers. Cantrell, make sure you shoot the missile that Daedalus is going to miss.” Clapping her hands together, she said, “We're going to beat the bastards yet.”
“There goes Target Two!” Spinelli reported. “All six missiles caught her amidships. The debris field is well clear of the Ausori.”
“Almost there,” Orlova muttered. “Almost there.”
Shaking his head, Nelyubov said, “I wish Harper had bothered to tell us what she was planning.”
“Probably the last thing on her mind,” Orlova replied. “As long as it works, I'll forgive her.”
“Daedalus is in position, ma'am,” Spinelli said, and the command officers turned back to the tactical display. Alamo was going to kill one of the missiles, the laser pulse saved for the surviving warhead. Assuming this plan worked.
“Now!” Nelyubov yelled, as two more targets appeared on the screen, moving away from Daedalus with astounding speed, sliding smoothly into the track of the enemy warheads. The targets vanished from the screen, leaving only a single warhead as a threat. A heartbeat later, Alamo's laser fired for the third time, blotting the last enemy missile from the screen.
Running a hand through her hair, Orlova said, “Let's try not to cut things so close next time. Any other sign of activity, Spaceman?”
Spinelli shook his head, a smile on his face, “No, ma'am. Both enemy warships are destroyed, and the escape pods are slowing to a halt.”
The blood drained from her face as she stepped towards him, saying, “Where are they going, Spaceman? I need a course projection, right now!”
Rattling his fingers across the controls, he replied, “Towards the Ausori. The nearest spacecraft, I assume. Our pods are triggered to make their way to the nearest friendly vessel.”
Looking at Nelyubov, she said, “The Xandari haven't suddenly decided to give their crew a chance to live through a defeat. This whole battle has been nothing but a decoy. Those aren't survivors, they're marines!”
Stepping over to the sensor station, Nelyubov said, “Fine-tune the sensors, Spaceman. Let's see if we can work out exactly where they are going.”
“Weitzman, contact Captain Ghewon. Tell him to prepare to repel boarders.”
Chapter 3
Lieutenant Pavel Salazar looked down at his sensor display, shaking his head with a smile on his face, while his co-pilot, Midshipman Maqua, the first Neander officer in the Triplanetary Fleet, looked on with a frown.
“Something wrong, sir?” he asked.
“Other than having to complain to Kris about stealing my best ideas, nothing at all.” He turned back to the passenger cabin, and said, “Sidearms, people. We're….”
“Alamo to Shuttle Two,” the speaker barked. “Come in, urgent.”
“Shuttle Two here,” Salazar replied. “What's wrong, Captain? The view out here looks just great at the moment.”
“We have possibly one hundred hostiles inbound to Ausori right now, most of them heading right for the bridge. I've got the other transfer shuttles loaded with the rest of the platoon, but you're the first one on the scene.”
“I'll liaise with Captain Ghewon, find out...”
“Negative,” Nelyubov's voice replied. “They've evacuated the bridge. We can't get hold of anyone over there.”
Maqua's eyes widened, and he said, “What do we do?”
“Lieutenant, ta
ke command of whatever forces you can mobilize, and push the Xandari out. We've got to keep that ship if we've got any hope of getting the refugees home. Sergeant Gurung will be with you in six minutes minus, but with Ensign Cooper out of the picture...”
“Gabe?”
“Will be picked up by a Neander shuttle, but he's going to miss this one,” Orlova said. “Take charge, win the battle, and we'll worry about the details later. Understood?”
“Yes, ma'am,” he said, shaking his head.
“Alamo's ready to accept casualties. I don't know what condition the medical facilities will be over there. I can't even get a damn damage report.” Frustration laced her words, and she continued, “Do what you can. Alamo out.”
“Aye,” he said, shaking his head. He rose from his seat, looking down at the co-pilot, and added, “Take her in. Nearest docking bay to the action. Then grab a gun and come along.”
Looking at the Neander ship in the viewscreen, Maqua turned pale, then said, “Can't I guard the shuttle, sir?”
“If you're not willing to face action...”
“It isn't that, sir.” He shook his head, “It's just...”
“That you don't know what sort of reception you're going to face on that ship. Trust me, Midshipmen, they're going to have bigger problems on their minds when we arrive, and if anyone give you any trouble, feel free to refer them to me. Or to the rather scary Espatiers we've got with us. Your score on the firing range was good enough.” He clapped the young cadet on the shoulder, and said, “We'll get through. My word on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stepping back to the passenger compartment, Salazar walked over to Lance-Sergeant Hunt, the grizzled veteran already pulling on his combat armor, the rest of the troopers preparing their equipment.
“I guess you got the message, Sergeant.”
“Loud and clear, sir.” He gestured at Lance-Corporal Rhodes, who flashed a smile at Salazar while he loaded his rifle. “We're armed for bear, and ready for battle.”
“We all know the Xandari don't allow themselves to be captured, and we all know what they do to any prisoners they capture, so we can't afford to give them any sort of a break. My intention is to take the bridge and work our way into the ship from there.” Shaking his head, he said, “As well as finding someone who can guide us through.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament Page 2
