Only the Brave (Lincoln's War Book 3)

by Richard Tongue

   “You want to use Old Abe as a decoy?” Fox asked.

   “Why not?” Kirkland replied, gesturing at the sensor display. “Right now, that hyperspace core is the most important piece of hardware we’ve got. Our fighters are up, and our combat value is limited. Unless we can threaten the enemy in an unexpected way, we might as well head out of the system right now.” Turning to Forrest, she added, “This is the mission we came out here to complete, ma’am. Nothing’s changed, except the odds are perhaps a little more in our favor.”

   “Without our fighters, we’ll be reliant entirely on our turrets,” Fox warned. “Even against targets like that, we can’t do that much damage. Moreover, if any enemy ships turn our way, we’ll be hard put to maintain a strong defensive barrage. I suggest we link up with the rest of the formation, add our defensive firepower to theirs.”

   Tapping a control, Forrest said, “Bridge to Hangar Deck. What ordnance have you got down there. Current levels of fighter-based missiles.”

   After a moment, Chief Wong replied, “Three hundred plus, of varying types, but we don’t have any means of launching them. I only have one non-operational fighter down here.”

   “Any reason you can’t load them into the elevator airlocks and release them at close range?”

   There was a brief pause, and he replied, “No reason at all, ma’am, but they’ll be reliant on their own internal guidance systems only. Limited options for countermeasures. Limited at best.”

   “And against auxiliary ships?”

   “That just might be enough. I’ll get the gang loading them up now. You want me to hold back enough birds to rearm our fighters when they land?”

   Looking at the strategic view, she shook her head, replying, “No point. We won’t have time for a second fighter pass. It’ll be tricky enough just to recover them on this vector. Fill the airlocks, Chief. Don’t hold anything back. Bridge out.” Turning to Fox, she continued, “We might not be able to guide them after launch, but you’re going to have to program them for their targets. Can your systems manage the data load.”

   “Probably, as long as we’re not too worried about precise systems. I should be able to send them slamming into the side of those ships.” She paused, then added, “They won’t cause crippling damage though, ma’am. Nothing like. They’ll make a mess, but I doubt they’ll actually knock any of those ships off the table.”

   “I’m aware of that, Lieutenant. Let’s hope the enemy commander isn’t. Helm, take us in. Maximum acceleration. All turret crews, stand by to protect our missile swarm on the attack.”

   “Aye, Captain,” Fox replied, as Forrest turned once more to look at the screen. Lincoln was moving faster now, swinging back around onto their original approach vector, before the dual surprises from Romano and Flynn. She spotted a series of shuttles racing from the station, heading for the nearest friendly ships. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. They’d be lucky to make it home before the Guilder vessels arrived, and if they couldn’t land in time, they’d be sitting ducks.

   “Can we take any of them, Commander?” Forrest asked.

   “We’re too far away at the moment, ma’am, but we might be able to grab some of them when we come back around,” Kirkland replied. “I could launch our search and rescue shuttles, have them help bring them in. Some of those escape craft are pretty damn primitive.” Shaking her head, she added, “Still can’t quite get used to having the technological edge.”

   “Do it,” Forrest said. “Try and coordinate with Santos-Dumont and Yamantaka to take the bulk of them. There’s no room on the destroyers for more than a handful.” She paused, then asked, “What sort of projection do you have on numbers.”

   “Maybe a hundred, hundred-fifty, depending on how tight they’re packing them in,” Kirkland said. “And our estimates had six hundred and change on the station.” Turning to her, she said, “If we pull this attack off, there won’t be any time for a second pass. And we’re getting no signals from Tanaka or Romano.”

   “Neither of them would take a seat on an escape craft from a civilian,” Forrest replied. “They’re going to stay on the station to the end. Have we managed to make any further contact with them?”

   “Nothing, ma’am. All channels are being jammed over there anyway. There’s no way to punch a signal through, not unless they can do something about it from their end.” Kirkland threw controls, and said, “Enemy formation is still heading for Komarov. That ship’s going too damned slowly, Captain. I don’t think they’re going to make it in time. And there’s still the defense network, assuming they get through the secondary screen.”

   “One thing at a time,” she replied. “One thing at a time. Do we have a positive lock on the enemy auxiliaries?”

   “Firing solution is loaded into the computer.” Fox turned to her, and continued, “Optimum firing range will be in three minutes, ten seconds.”

   “And maximum range?”

   “Less than sixty seconds, but it’ll be a real crap shoot at that distance. Hitting anything would be blind chance, they’ll have all the time they need to evade.”

   “But the enemy commander will have a chance to react, and will be forced to work on the assumption that we’ve got a second salvo ready to go. Otherwise, why would we be crazy enough to attack at extreme range? Fire as soon as you can, Lieutenant, and give it everything you’ve got.”

   “Attitude change from the enemy fleet!” Clayton said, turning from his sensor station. “Three ships have broken away from the main force, bearing directly towards us at full speed.”

   “That’s a good start, but we’re going to need more,” Forrest replied. She looked at the monitor display, and said, “Contact Titov. I want Major Kozlov to alter course, as though he’s planning on attacking the enemy transports from the rear. If he red-lines his engines he should just be able to make it in time.”

   Kirkland nodded, then said, “General Markova requests...”

   “Tell the General that I’m still in command of this fleet, and that if she wants to actually win this battle, she’s going to have to do things my way. I need Titov on that attack vector, and I need her on there right now. That’s a direct order.”

   “Aye, ma’am,” Kirkland said with a smile. A few seconds later, she added, “Titov is changing course now, running engines on overload. Major Kozlov asks whether he should commit to the attack, or prepare to alter course again if the opportunity arises.”

   “Tell him that I don’t care what he ends up doing as long as he ends up shooting at the enemy. If that’s good enough for Admiral Nelson, it’s good enough for me!”

   “Firing in ten seconds, Captain,” Fox said.

   Merritt leaned over his helm, and said, “I assume you want me to hold off executing an evasive course for as long as possible, ma’am?”

   “That’s the intention. Don’t push our luck too far, but hold course as though we’re launching a second salvo at optimum firing range. I know that’ll get us within range of their defensive firing patterns, but that’s just a risk we’re going to have to take.”

   “Firing!” Fox said, and the ship shuddered as the elevator airlocks unleashed their deadly payload, more than two hundred missiles of all designs racing towards the enemy auxiliaries, their engines recklessly burning fuel as they closed the range. Instantly, the Guilder ships scattered, curving in all directions as they attempted to evade, spitting bolts of energy all around them, bright flashes filling the screen as, one by one, the missiles died, falling far short of their targets.

   “We’ve lost almost a quarter of them already,” Kirkland said.

   “Turrets now coming into range. Executing defensive firing pattern,” Fox added.

   Forrest sat back in her chair, watching the battle unfold before her, Lincoln’s particle beams now hammering in the sky, knocking down the enemy bolts to shield the missiles. The enemy formation was racing in all directions, str
uggling to escape the perceived threat, and Merritt turned the ship towards the nearest, a transport holding five thousand troops. It was a target too tempting to ignore, and the enemy commander had to be watching. She couldn’t win this fight by force. Guile, perhaps. The last weapon in her arsenal.

   “That did it!” Clayton said. “Multiple course changes, Captain! We’ve got fourteen enemy capital ships heading our way. They’re only holding back six to prevent the rest of the fleet making its attack run on the station.” Throwing controls with abandon, he continued, “First wave will intercept us in seven minutes, nine seconds.”

   “Nineteen impacts on the enemy auxiliaries. No appreciable damage, but we’ve certainly made a mess of the paintwork,” Fox reported.

   “That’ll make a good start,” Forrest said. “Contact General Markova, and inform her that she has as much of a clean run to the target as she’s realistically going to get.” She paused, looked at the sensors, and asked, “Where the hell are the fighters going?”

   “Damn,” Kirkland replied, looking at the board. “Lieutenant Estrada had a target of opportunity, Captain. Two monitors, close together. Looks like he’s managed to take them out of the fight, but they’ve expended a lot of their ordnance doing it.” Turning to Forrest, she continued, “He’s requesting permission to return and rearm.”

   “No chance they’d get home before we make contact with the enemy ships, ma’am,” Fox said. “They’d be flying right into a firefight.” Grimacing, she added, “Hell, right now they don’t have any good options for a landing, if it comes to that. I’m not sure where we can set them down with any safety.”

   “Have them enter a vector that gets them home as soon as we clear the enemy fleet,” Forrest said. “Stress that they’re to take no part in the battle as it stands. We’ll have to punch our way through alone. Contact Titov, have them move into close defensive formation. As close as possible.”

   “Captain,” Fox said, “with that many enemy ships heading towards us, I’m not sure what options we have left on the table.”

   “Neither am I, Lieutenant, but I think we’re about to find out.” Looking at the sensor display, she added, “Let’s just hope Komarov can make all of this worthwhile. Everything’s down to them.”

   “What about Lieutenant Romano?” Kirkland asked.

   “There’s nothing we can do,” Forrest said. “With luck he’ll work out his own salvation. Right now I’m more worried about ours.”

  Chapter 22

   Romano clipped the helmet onto the unfamiliar spacesuit, Zani reaching across to make a succession of quick adjustments to the fit. As air hissed into his suit, a series of green lights flashed across his heads-up display, too quickly for him to read, but as far as he could tell, everything was working as it should. Tanaka had already finished, was waiting for him in the airlock, and both Zani and the single guard she had selected to accompany her took up the rear.

   He hefted his rifle in his hands, testing the weight. Technically, it was designed to link into the systems in his suit, but he had little idea how the connection was made, would not be able to make use of those advanced functions without prolonged training. The weapon was simple enough, firing gyroc rounds to avoid recoil, with limited ability for autonomous targeting. Despite all that, both he and Tanaka would be restricted to providing covering fire, and both of them knew it. They were dependent on their recent allies, a state of affairs that they both would have preferred to avoid.

   Zani clipped a communications cord into position, and asked, “Can you hear me?”

   “Loud and clear,” Romano replied. “The important thing is, can anyone else?”

   “Not a chance. I disabled all communications and telemetry systems. Nobody can hear us in these things. You’re as safe here as you’re realistically going to get.” She flicked a switch, and said, “Thruster controls are about the same as PacFed designs, basically. For directional thrust, anyway. The details are different, but you’re not going to have to use any of the navigational controls. I’ve programmed your suits for a course that will take you directly to the correct airlock, with a manual override if you need it. Sensor controls will come on as soon as we leave the station, but I’ve got them on passive only. We might just be able to sneak past their detectors if we move quickly.”

   “How far to security control?”

   “A couple of hundred meters. This is going to be either damned easy or damned hard.”

   “I know where I’d put my money,” Tanaka replied.

   “No bet, Lieutenant,” Zani said. “Are you both ready?”

   “As ready as we’ll ever be. After you, Commander.”

   The four of them stepped into the airlock, Zani and the guard taking the lead, and the mechanism engaged, inner hatch slamming shut as the atmosphere leaked away, slowly draining back into the lifesystem. Then the outer hatch opened, and the quartet basked in the light of the dim star, dominating the sky.

   “Hey,” Tanaka asked. “What happens if the black hole twitches while we’re out here?”

   “Let’s just say we don’t take any more spacewalks than we have to,” Zani replied. “I’m more worried about those ships, out at mid-range. Yours?”

   Nodding, Romano said, “Looks like a group of Zemlyan destroyers, but I’ve never seen anything like that thing they’re carrying behind them.”

   “A bomb?” the guard asked. “Maybe we ought to get out of here, head for a shuttle...”

   “Unless we can do something about the defense network, that’s just a faster way to die,” Zani said. “You think Narik won’t open fire? The first wave of escape craft will hit the perimeter in less than four minutes. We’ve got to move.” She reached to her wrist control, and all four suits fired their thrusters together, kicking clear of the station before altering course, swinging to follow the lines of the hull, ducking from side to side around the forest of obstructions that festooned the station’s exterior.

   “Contacts,” Zani said. “Damn, I should have known he’d have someone on guard.”

   “Have they seen us?” Romano asked.

   “Unknown, but it doesn’t really matter,” she replied. “They’ll spot us the moment we get close. We don’t have time to abort. Sorry, Lieutenant, you’re going to have to play pigeon.”

   “What?” Romano asked, as Zani pulled the cord free, his suit spinning away, almost with a mind of its own, racing out of cover and rendering him clearly visible to anyone at their target airlock. The first projectile sped past him, a warning shot to which he couldn’t reply.

   “Damn it, Zani,” he muttered, reaching for his thruster controls. The override failed to kick in, just as he had feared, and his suit jets continued to toss him around, into a series of wild evasive courses, projectiles racing through the sky, most of them missing by only inches. He caught a glimpse of Zani, moving into position, hiding behind a solar array as she lined up her shot. She’d get one chance to hit the target, the sniper moving out of cover in a bid to get a perfect shot on Romano. Two rockets flew through the air at the same instant, one of them close enough to send his proximity detectors wailing, the other slamming square into the chest of the enemy spaceman, the force of the impact sending him tumbling, tossing him clear of the hull, destined ultimately to fall into the star, assuming he lived that long.

   Zani raised her rifle again, this time aiming it at Romano, and his eyes widened as his hands futilely worked the thruster controls, before a pair of amber lights flashed on his helmet, his suit jets firing once more, this time guiding him back towards the rest of the party. Zani tossed him a communications line, and he fumbled it into the socket as he fell back into formation.

   “What the hell were you playing at?”

   “I needed a decoy, and there wasn’t time for a poll,” she replied.

   “No, no, I got that part. I was talking about aiming a rifle at my chest.”

   “Ah.” Sh
e chuckled, then said, “I had to use the targeting laser to link up with your suit’s computer systems. I didn’t want to have to fly out there to bring you back in.” Gesturing at the tumbling guard, she added, “Looks like he left the door open. I think we’ve been outside long enough.”

   “More than long enough,” Tanaka replied.

   “Hold on,” Zani said, firing the thrusters again, this time running in a straight line towards the target. “I hope none of you mind if we use a slightly unorthodox method of entering the room?”

   “At this stage, I think that’s an excellent idea,” Romano replied, as she tapped a pouch swinging from her belt. “They must know we’re out here by now.”

   “Whatever you’re going to do, make it quick,” Tanaka warned. “My watch says that we’ve got less than two minutes to shut down the defense grid, or a lot of people are going to die.”

   “We’ll make it,” Zani said. “Firing braking jets.”

   She slammed on the deceleration fast enough to send the four of them spinning out of control, and Romano lunged for the hull, his stomach churning as another gravity pulse surged through the system, the black hole choosing the worst possible moment to twist space-time. His fingers reached for a protruding antenna, and he just managed to wrap his hand around it, lunging forward to snatch a solar array before the weak metal snapped, breaking off and rattling against the hull. Up above, Zani had managed to grab the airlock, and swung inside to plant her explosive charge, slamming the plastique into position, speed beating precision as she jabbed the detonator home. Diving out of the airlock, firing her jets to get her out of the way, she pulled out her remote control, and tapped the button.

   “Hang on, Lieutenant!” she yelled, as the fabric of the station shook underneath him. Linked to the hull, he heard a faint report as the charge detonated, destroying the inner hatch and sending a fountain of air into space, dragging a trio of technicians with it, all lunging for something, anything, hoping for a miracle that their attacks had neither the time nor inclination to realize.