Climbing up and into the centrifuge, Alanna walked into the debriefing room and dropped her helmet on the intelligence officer’s desk.
“Well?” he asked.
“Nothing at our primary target,” she said as she flopped into a chair. “We sighted support ships at the secondary, but they jumped away just as we arrived. Are you writing this down?”
The last part she said in an exasperated tone.
“I’m waiting for your weapons controller.”
“She isn’t coming – I told her not to. You don’t need to hear the same damn thing in stereo.”
“You’re supposed to both be here for debrief,” his voice rose angrily.
“And you’re supposed to put us onto a target,” she shouted back “not have us farting around out there for hours on end!”
“All hands! Brace for in system jump! Brace for in system jump!” the intercom system suddenly announced. Both of them gripped the table as the carrier jolted in and out of jump space. He gave her a disgusted look and hurried away. With the shift in position the intelligence section would be taking stock of the readings from the passive sensors. Udaltsov’s flight would be launching to provide cover if something was too close, while Dati’s would be ready to fly off on a strike mission.
She should probably have waited for the intelligence officer to return and complete his debrief, but that wasn’t about to happen. Picking her helmet up, she headed for the mess.
Schurenhofer was already eating by the time she arrived. Alanna joined Jacka in the queue for food. The other pilot had been a rookie when she arrived on Dauntless. Now she was a veteran and fighter ace several times over. Aside from Alanna and Schurenhofer, she was the only member of the original flight still around. Andrews disappeared on day ten, when they got involved in a dogfight over Neptune. No one saw what happened to him. Ponta’s fighter lost its jump drive close to Saturn. It was fifty-fifty but he might have made the real space passage to one of the orbital forts before the fighter’s environmental support packed up. Two replacement crews had reached them. One was lost within a day of their arrival.
With food on her plate Alanna found a seat and started to eat. There wasn’t much talk in the canteen. It might not have been as tough for the carrier crew as the flight crews, but they weren’t having it easy either. If nothing else, it wore on their nerves, spending days in enemy territory, in which a hostile force could jump in at any moment.
“Hey, you’re supposed to eat it, not sleep in it!”
Looking round, Alanna saw Jacka, further down the table, her eyes closed, her head slowly dropped and settled into her plate.
Someone guffawed and Jacka jerked upright. A piece of mushroom dropped off her chin. She glared around the room with red-rimmed eyes filled with belligerence. The compartment went silent, the humour of the previous moment lost. Jacka threw down her cutlery and stalked out. The Lieutenant’s weapons controller looked to Alanna, clearly wondering whether he should go after her. Alanna shook her head. People returned to their meals. Such incidents were now too common to be worth mentioning. Exhaustion did funny things to people. Normally easy-going individuals became snappy, ready to take offence where none was intended. Two other pilots on Udaltsov’s flight were close friends, but now, every time they spoke to each other, they did so with studied politeness, as if they were afraid that their last words in this life might be ones of anger.
The intelligence officer walked into the mess and started towards the food service area, only to alter his course towards Alanna as soon as he saw her.
If he whines about briefing I’ll… Alanna thought. She could feel herself getting hot as her temper began to go.
“Lieutenant,” he said, “we just picked up a transmission from the American starfort Cold Harbour. Lieutenant Ponta made it.”
It took her a moment to work out what he was talking about.
“I didn’t think he would,” she replied, as the heat of her anger dissipated.
“They cut oxygen flow to the point where it was just enough to keep them alive provided they didn’t move,” he said before shrugging. “Even with that, they only landed with less than an hour of air left. Still they made it.”
Alanna smiled for what felt like the first time in years.
20th January 2068
Snow crunched underfoot as he stepped out through the small door onto the flat roof. Europe was experiencing its hardest winter in twenty years, although compared to what he’d seen in some parts of the States, it was barely worth mentioning.
“Oh yeah,” said Jeff Harlow as he set down the camera tripod and sat-phone case. “This is the spot.”
“Why don’t you leave that determination to the professional there, champ?” said his camerawoman Marie, as she laboured up the stairs. “And more to the point, would you mind shifting your overpaid self out of the way?”
Jeff did as he was told and Marie stepped onto the hotel’s flat roof and looked around. It wasn’t a very tall building, but then London wasn’t a very tall city. The sun was setting fast and the metropolis was already lit up.
“You’ve got to wonder why they waited until this time. Surely it would have been better to do it during the day?” Marie asked, as she carefully set her camera bag down.
“With the Brits, God knows. Union rules or an attempt to drum up the spirit of Dunkirk,” Jeff replied as he rubbed his shoulder. The six months he’d spent in deep space covering the fighting on the Junction Line had definitely caused some muscle loss. He should have done more exercise, but he’d never been much good at that. Not much point in saying anything though. Marie was twice his age but built like a brick shithouse – so much mockery would ensue. He wasn’t about to make that mistake, not twice anyway.
“Spirit of what?”
“Never mind.”
“Well let’s get this set up. They won’t wait for us,” she grunted as she kicked open the camera tripod.
“Yeah,” Jeff replied, looking out across the city, “This will be first take stuff. Mind you, when you’ve done filming in combat…”
“Yes! Yes! YES!” Marie cut in with mock exasperation. “I know about your war heroics!”
Jeff grinned. Something landed in his hair.
“Snowing again,” he observed
“Good. It adds to the ambience.”
“Oy! Is anyone up there?” came a shout from the stairs down into the hotel.
“Yeah, Richard, we are,” Marie shouted back.
There was the thump of feet on the stairs and Richard, the film crew manager, emerged onto the roof.
“I wondered where you’d got to,” Jeff said. “Where’s Jennifer? Time’s a bit short if we’re to get those shots.”
“Guys, can you put everything down for a minute,” Richard said.
His tone immediately got Jeff’s attention. When he’d been with the fleet, it was always bad news when people talked like that.
“Richard, where’s Jen?” Marie asked trying to look past him. Jennifer was their makeup girl and gopher – and she wasn’t on the stairs behind Richard.
“I got a phone call about an hour ago from the airline. Our flight and our tickets have been cancelled.”
“What!” Jeff exclaimed. “But they were supposed to run until Tuesday!”
“Yeah,” Richard said grimly. “The thing is, a couple of governments have started requisitioning fuel from their airports. It looks like the crews got scared that they would find themselves stranded in the ass end of nowhere – probably right to be. Our plane is being used to get flight crews and embassy staff back to the States.”
“When!” Jeff asked
Richard glanced at his watch. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“And you didn’t call us!” Marie shouted at him furiously.
“Look! They were only prepared to give us one seat,” Richard shouted back. “Just one! And the plane was taking off as soon as it was full. You two weren’t there so the only choices were me or Jen.” He paused befo
re continuing more calmly. “Jen has a young family so I threw her into a cab to Heathrow. She made it, just about.” He looked back and forth at the two of them. “I made a call guys and I think I made the right one.”
“Well shit!” Marie said in a tone now more disgusted than angry.
“So where does that leave us then?” Jeff asked, as Marie circled the roof cursing and kicking. “Any chance of getting another flight?”
“Not a prayer,” Richard said shaking his head. “Even airline staff that live here are being told to go home.”
“You told them we are a film crew?”
“Oh yeah. But that was no currency.”
“So... what now? The embassy?”
“Probably closed and we’ve got a better option,” Richard said, shaking his head. “I ran into the hotel manager on the way up.”
“I thought he said he was closing up,” Jeff said.
The hotel mostly catered to business customers. In the past three days the place had become increasingly quiet as guests left without being replaced. This morning, there had only been one other person at breakfast and Jeff had seen him check out afterwards. The same was true of the staff – there appeared to be only one or two still around. In fact the city as a whole was shutting down. Most shops had pulled down their shutters more than a week ago and the supermarkets were mostly cleaned out. Only the shops that sold camping and survival gear still seemed to have trade and even they were closing now.
“He’s offered to let us stay – for free as long as we take care of the place. I think he expected the janitor to still be around, but he was the first to fuck off. I know it’s not perfect but...” he trailed off.
They’d been in Dublin covering updates from Fleet Headquarters as the battle was fought out there in the solar system. But as it ground on without resolution, a world that had become used to reliable energy suddenly discovered what happened when the hydrogen flow was turned off. The network wanted coverage from a major European capital. They could have used a local reporter but they wanted one of their own. A couple of other networks were prepared to pay syndication fees to use the footage, which sweetened the deal. They’d offered every available news team huge bonuses to stay in Europe a little longer. Jeff’s crew was an amalgamation of those few prepared stay.
Fool’s gold, Jeff thought to himself. If missiles started raining down, then the health of anyone’s bank balance would count for exactly jack-shit. But what would he have done if he had been home? If this was the end of the world, where did he want to spend it? Rattling around in an apartment that wasn’t home, but just a place where he kept his stuff? He could have gone to his parents and spent his last days with them and his family. I’d rather step out of an airlock in my birthday suit, he thought to himself. Richard and Marie both had spouses, who they pretty soon would not be in a position to contact, let alone get home to.
“Well, we knew we were taking a risk,” Jeff said.
“Yeah, we did,” Richard agreed. He shook his head and Jeff realised with embarrassment there were tears in the other man’s eyes. “I’m up to my ears in debt but what the hell will money be worth soon?”
“If the fleet wins – then the same as it was last month.”
“If it was going to win, it would have done so by now,” Marie abruptly put in. “Here we are at the start of the end of days providing expert coverage for people back home that by now probably don’t have electricity to power their screens.”
In the distance, at the visible edge of the city, an entire section of lights went out.
“Shit! It’s started!” Marie exclaimed as she sprang towards her camera.
Jeff pulled off his jacket and smoothed down his hair.
“And... go,” she muttered as she got the camera settled.
“Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, in the great city of London, I am witnessing something not seen in over a century. Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, all over Europe the lights are going out.”
21st January 2068
On the main holo, the blip with multiple damage codes wavered and vanished.
“Bridge, Sensors! Illustrious has jumped.”
Berg was too busy shouting orders at Helm and Fire Control to have time to acknowledge.
“Helm! Give me sideslip to port! Guns! Target all missiles on contact FC1 and fire!”
Mantis shuddered as she coughed out four slammer missiles towards the enemy fighter carrier. There wasn’t a hope in hell any of them would make it through, but if it forced the Nameless to use several of their own to intercept them, then that was a good enough trade off. Off to port, Puma was still breaking up as she was wracked by explosions. As the closest ship to the enemy when the four Nameless cruisers jumped in, she hadn’t stood much of a chance. But she thinned much of the first wave of missiles and mauled one cruiser with gunfire before she herself was torn open. Wasp, her armament gutted by two direct hits, was running for her life as the crew frantically tried to get the jump drive back online. Off to starboard, there was a swirling melee of fighters. One of the carrier’s flights had been flying escort when the Nameless arrived. They’d stopped the cap ship missiles aimed at the carrier, but couldn’t deal with all the dual-purpose ones that followed. The standby flight was taken out on the deck. Then a Nameless carrier jumped in and disgorged its entire complement. All the Ravens could do was to attempt to tie up the enemy fighters.
“Coms. Anything from Wasp?” Berg demanded.
“Only that they need more time.”
Berg looked towards her screen. There was an open link to Captain Liv on Scorpion.
“We can’t stay here much longer,” she said as Mantis jolted violently.
“We have to give them a little more time,” the Bull replied tightly.
The two destroyers were accelerating backwards away from the Nameless. They kept their guns bearing on the enemy but any hit could take out either ship’s jump drive. Weaving, dodging and copious amounts of chaff was the only thing keeping Mantis and Scorpion alive. But they were playing Russian roulette and the Nameless only had to be lucky once.
“Sir, we’re crossing the line between courage and stupidity!” Berg called. The incoming missiles thinned and she turned and snapped at fire control.
“Guns, switch target – two salvoes at target C3.”
One bolt struck home and on the holo the computer highlighted fragments blasting clear. A second later a Nameless missile got through Mantis’s point defence fire. A gouge was ripped in the port engine nacelle and coolant began to vent as the hull was peppered with missile fragments. Berg spun towards the damage control display. Several sections were blinking red and two thrusters had gone dark. A second later one came back online as the Lazarus systems found a working connection.
Berg opened her mouth to shout at Liv again, when she was cut off.
“Bridge, Sensors. Wasp has jumped!”
“Navigation, give me jump calculations. Helm, stand ready to make the turn,” she barked.
There was no signal from Scorpion. The Bull knew that for this manoeuvre, the captain had to rely on his or her own judgement to choose the moment to spin the ship around so that the jump drive would face in the direction of travel. It was an action that would also turn all their heavy weapons away from the enemy. Berg leaned forward in her seat, staring intently at the holo. Another missile burst close enough for Mantis to be hit by fragments. There was a gap between one salvo and another. Was it enough for Mantis to turn and engage her jump drive?
“Helm, now!”
With damage to the port side thrusters, the helmsman didn’t attempt to spin and instead flipped Mantis vertically. From the bows came the whine of the drive spinning up. Point defence continued to blaze away but the plasma cannons now had no target and the destroyer’s course steadied as she prepared to jump. Two Cap Ship missiles locked on and powered in.
“Jumping!” shouted the Navigator as the jump portal opened ahead of them. Mantis lunged through into safety.
“So much for the opinions of those who thought we should have stripped the armour off,” said Captain Chothia of the Illustrious across the laser hook up. “That first hit would have crippled us if we hadn’t had the plate to stop it.”
He looked exhausted. Designed before jump drives for fighters had been developed, of the pre-war carriers Illustrious uniquely had cruiser level armour. It had saved her, but only just. All the hangars on one side were wrecked and half the engines were bleeding coolant or plasma.
The expression on group commander Rear Admiral Paahlisson’s face suggested that at best he regarded this as cold comfort. With the task group returned to the safety of interstellar space, it was time to take stock and the picture was not pretty. The conference screen was segmented to show the face of each ship’s commander. The Wasp had lost power shortly after arriving and, now mostly evacuated, she hung from the side of the support ship Samuel Clemens. So the screen was now split only four ways.
“Yes, Captain,” Paahlisson said. “But unfortunately the level of damaged sustained is well beyond what we can repair ourselves. It was brave work by Commander Liv, covering Wasp.”
It was foolish, Berg thought to herself. There was no way Wasp could be repaired in time to be of any use in this fight. But they’d nearly thrown good after bad trying to save her. The Admiral’s chilly tone suggested he thought the same. But somehow, even misplaced bravery had to be congratulated.
“What condition are your ships in?” Paahlisson continued. “Are they combat worthy?”
“In our case no,” said Liv. “Fire Control took a hit just as we made our jump. We may be able to…”
“And you, Commander Berg?” Paahlisson cut him off.
“We have some damage, sir, which we can repair from our own resources. My ship can still fight.”
“Good. I want you to resupply your ship from the Samuel Clemens. You will then escort our ammunition ships, first to the resupply point for Huáscar. You’ll leave one of the ammunition ships with them. You are then to proceed to the Dauntless Task Group and attach yourself to them. We’re out of this fight but we have to get whatever we can back in. Commander Liv, your ship will remain here to provide Illustrious with close escort.”
The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) Page 11
