Nodding, he replied, “Go right ahead. If Captain Forrest has come up with some sort of miracle, I want to see it.”
Chapter 24
“Closing on target,” Clayton reported. “Enemy formation is fifty seconds from attack range. Our escort fleet will be with us in a little over ninety.” He frowned and added, “We’re going to have twelve ships firing on us in the first wave, the remainder following in the second.”
“Our defensive fire won’t last long against that sort of onslaught, Captain,” Kirkland added.
“Then we need to change the rules of the game,” Forrest said. “Can you determine their attack pattern, Commander?”
Kirkland looked down at her panel, and replied, “Their commander seems to be playing it pretty safe. It’s a conservative envelopment. Nothing to write home about.” She paused, then added, “They’ve got overwhelming firepower on their side, Captain. I suspect they’d simply hold back some of their ships rather than risk losses from friendly fire. I don’t think they’ll fall for that trick.”
“Not what I had in mind,” Forrest said with a smile, throwing a control. “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Brooks here, Captain,” the engineer replied. “I’ve got all damage control teams...”
“Commander, can you simulate a hyperdrive initiation? Build up the power, ramp it up as high as you can without actually activating the system, and in such a way that the Guilders can see what we’re trying?”
Brooks sighed, and said, “You’re really desperate to wreck my ship, aren’t you. I think I can do something, ma’am, but if I get it wrong, we could blow out half the circuits on the drive deck.”
“If you don’t, Commander, then we’ll have a hell of a lot more damage than that to worry about. Start right now, and have it build for at least the next three minutes. And make sure it is as obvious as possible. We’ve got to put on a show for the Guilders.” Turning to Fox, she added, “Alter course to take us into the heart of their formation. Let’s make this look good.”
“Captain,” Kirkland warned, “isn’t there a danger that they might realize what we’re doing on the station? There’s no chance that they could get back there in time to prevent the charging sequence, but they’d have an opportunity to flee the system.”
“Good,” Forrest replied. “Commander, I hope at least some of them do get out of here. I want everyone to know just what happened here today. That might push some of the hard-liners back to the peace table.” Gesturing at the screen, she added, “Flynn might just have stumbled upon the weapon we can use to win this war. Not end it, win it.”
“Hiroshima,” Fox muttered.
“What was that?” Forrest asked.
“Just coming up with a new name for the system, Captain. Assuming anyone needs one when this day is done.” Working her console, she added, “First enemy forces will be in firing range in ten seconds. They’re still holding course. Our reinforcements are getting close, also, and some of the rear elements are turning away, moving to intercept them.”
“The enemy commander’s hedging his bets. That might be a mistake. That much force, concentrated, would be overwhelming,” Kirkland said. The lights flickered, and she added, “Power building is beginning, Captain. They should be detecting it any second now.”
“Evasive, ma’am?” Merritt asked.
“Not yet. Hold your course. Turrets to full defensive.”
“Commencing barrage,” Fox replied, and overhead, the turrets began to pound, hurling bolts of energy into the sky, ready to defeat an enemy attack that as yet, did not exist. On the tactical plot, Lincoln and Titov were surrounded by a halo, a force of fire and fury that would theoretically block any attack. Though with that many ships heading their way, any single weak spot could easily result in their annihilation.
“Attitude change!” Clayton reported, a smile on his face. “Three ships are breaking off, heading for the gravitational threshold. We’re getting a big spike in communications traffic. I’d say we’ve got them thinking.”
“Let’s give them something else to think about. Send a message in the clear to Komarov, warning them to prepare to evacuate the system.” She paused, then said, “Correction. Use a Zemlyan code that we know they’ll be able to break. We can’t make it too easy for them.”
“Energy spike!” Fox warned. “Enemy formation has opened fire, full weapons spread, bearing directly.” The turrets overhead pounded with increased vigor, the gunners working as furiously as they could in a bid to beat back the enemy salvo. Forrest watched with resignation as the Guilders battered their way through their defenses, not even attempting to use finesse, to find weak points, instead simply slamming into their protective screen with overwhelming force. The turrets could match each pulse individually, but each would get a little closer, a little nearer the hull, and should they manage to break their screen, Lincoln would be destroyed in a matter of seconds.
“Two more enemy ships have broken off, heading out of the system,” Clayton reported. “The auxiliaries are making the attempt as well, but there’s no chance that they can escape and evade in time. They’re still going to be in the blast radius when Commander Flynn throws the switch.” He paused, then added, “Of course, right now, so are we.”
“Think positive, Spaceman,” she replied with a smile.
“They’ll be through our defenses in less than eight seconds,” Kirkland said.
Nodding, Forrest replied, “Fox, switch turrets to defense of essential systems only.”
“We’ll take a hell of a pounding, Captain.”
“At least we might live through it, though,” she said.
“True enough,” Fox said. “Switching to Firing Pattern Sierra.”
Instantly, the image on the display shifted and changed, swirling around as the turrets altered their targeting systems. Instead of trying to deflect every bolt, they now focused instead on the primary systems that kept the ship in the fight, engines, power network, life support. Everything else would have to be expendable. Rapidly, the halo around the unprotected systems shrank, closing on the hull with hideous speed, and Forrest glanced across at the collection of dots that represented the rest of her forces, hoping against hope that they might make it in time.
The first bolts didn’t penetrate the hull, simply triggering a wail of alarms from the engineering station, the technician struggling to shut them off as rapidly as they began, but after a couple of seconds, the Guilder ships were ripping into Lincoln’s side, tearing through deck armor and bulkheads, exposing inner compartments to space. The ship lurched from side to side, escaping atmosphere tossing it asunder, Merritt struggling to keep her on any sort of heading. The lights flickered again, this time as silent testimony to a series of hits on the power grid, the systems compensating for the damage. That was a game they could play for a little while, but not for long.
Then, at last, Santos-Dumont opened fire with its primary armament, catching one of the enemy ships unawares and ripping into its hull, burning away at the side of the ship and sending it dropping out of the formation, her commander opting for the better part of valor in order to save his crew. That was an interesting tactical shift, in itself. Before, no Guilder commander would have fled the fight, knowing the punishment he would face upon his return to their territory. Evidently that was now a lesser consideration, more evidence that their campaign was having an effect.
The Guilder formation, with two enemies to fight, had to split its fire, and now the turrets could cope with the mass of incoming energy bolts, forcing the perimeter defenses back around the entire ship once more, providing at least a brief respite from the nightmare they had been facing, bare seconds ago.
“Damage report,” Forrest ordered, turning to Kirkland.
“Bad, Captain. We’ve lost most of our external sensor pickups, long-range communications are gone, as is the hyperspace transmitter. Melted complete
ly away. I’m not sure we can repair it. Three turrets are out of action, one burned out, two destroyed by enemy fire. Hull breaches on every deck, and we’re losing atmosphere faster than our lifesystem can keep it up. Damage control is trying to isolate those sections exposed to space, but they’re running a race they can’t win. We had a lot of hits on the superstructure, hull armor gone damn near everywhere.” Shaking her head, she said, “Engines are still working at two-thirds, hyperdrive still working, and we’ve got most of the power distribution network. I’m afraid that’s just about it.”
“That’s enough to get us out of here,” Forrest said, watching as the enemy fleet fragmented. Those that had broken away just before making contact with Lincoln had weakened their salvo just enough to allow them to punch their way through, and as the rest of the formation slid into position around Lincoln, Forrest allowed herself the brief luxury of a smile. Despite everything, it was beginning to look as though they might have got away with their attack. As they hammered through the formation, the rest of the enemy fleet was moving off, flying in all directions as their commanders opted to save their own lives, rather than attempt a second attack run.
On the screen, the halo began to retreat again, the enemy throwing everything they had at Lincoln in a bid to bring the battle to an end. Forrest made quick calculations in her head, mentally evaluating the difference between the two firing patterns, and her smile grew broader. They didn’t have time to get through. Her ship had been damaged, badly damaged, but they’d have all the time they needed to make repairs upon their return to Zemlya.
“That’s odd,” Clayton said. “One of the enemy ships has ceased firing, sixty seconds sooner than they should. They’re still well within firing range.” Anticipating her next question, he added, “Sensors don’t show any sign of damage that would account for that. Though I don’t have enough bandwidth to tell for sure.”
Forrest looked at the course plot, focused on the enemy ship, lurking near the rear of the formation. She ran her eyes over the ship’s lines, looking for anything suspicious, any sign of unusual activity that might explain what they were up to. As she watched, it pivoted around on its thrusters, putting itself onto a new trajectory, and cold realization gripped her as she realized what that commander was planning.
“Evasive, Merritt, now!”
“Working, Captain, but most of my thrusters are gone. There’s not much I can do!”
“What is it?” Kirkland asked, her eyes sweeping the screen.
“Attitude change!” Clayton said. “Our friend is locking onto a collision course, maximum acceleration. His weapons are turning to fire full forward.”
“A kamikaze run,” Forrest replied. “And with that much focused firepower, he’ll be able to blast his way right through our screen.”
“I could change our turret firing...” Fox began.
“Do that,” Kirkland replied, “and they’ll burn through in enough places that it won’t matter.”
“Helm, is there anything you can do?” Forrest replied.
Shaking his head, Merritt said, “Anything I try, he’s got the ability to counter.”
“No time even to abandon ship,” Kirkland said with a sigh.
“No point anyway,” Fox said. “Not with that much weapons fire flying around out there.”
Nodding, Forrest sat back on her chair, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, it has been an honor and a privilege to fly with you all.”
“Wait a second!” Clayton yelled. “Course change from Titov!”
Forrest leaned forward, watching the battle as it continued to unfold, Titov’s trajectory track turning around, locking onto the enemy ships. Both vessels danced from side to side, the Guilder vessel attempting to slip away, but Major Kozlov was a good shiphandler, good enough to press the attack. Initially, she thought he was trying simply to throw off the enemy attack, or get in a few good shots with Titov’s own primary armament. Soon, though, she realized it was more than that, far more. He wasn’t aiming for a near miss. He was countering a kamikaze run with one of his own, and Forrest looked up with a mixture of horror and admiration as Kozlov completed his last maneuver, the two trajectory tracks intersecting just short of Lincoln, anticlimactically winking out.
“He did it,” Fox said, her voice a half-whisper. “He did it.”
Clayton looked up at his screen, then yelled, “Stand by for shrapnel, all decks, starboard!”
Debris from the two dead ships smashed into the side of Lincoln, sirens screaming from every loudspeaker, red lights dancing across the monitor displays. Then the overhead lights flickered and died, replaced with the dim amber of the emergency systems.
“Report!” Forrest said.
“Main power grid offline,” Kirkland said. “Including the hyperdrive.”
“If the hyperdrive is out, then when Flynn hits the button…,” Merritt said. He looked up, and said, “We’re out of the firing line, Captain. And I still have engine controls.”
Urgently stabbing a control, Forrest said, “Bridge to engineering. I need the hyperdrive up and running in ten minutes or we’re dead.” She paused, then said, “Damn it, Brooks, answer me!” Rising from her chair, she said, “I’m going down there. Kirkland, you have the conn. Helm, get us to the gravitational threshold. Best possible speed.”
“But without the hyperdrive,” Merritt protested.
“Do it, helm!” she replied, the elevator doors sliding shut. “We’re not dead yet!”
Chapter 25
Romano glared at Zani, then looked up at the monitoring stations, watching as hundreds of prisoners and station personnel raced towards a rescue ship that would never come. Her nimble fingers sealed hatches and blast doors as they progressed, further isolating them from any hope of survival. He glanced at Tanaka, worryingly still, then turned back to the console.
“Say it, Lieutenant,” Zani replied.
“Do I have to?” he asked.
“What other decision could Commander Flynn have made. They’re a mob, Lieutenant, and mobs don’t respond to reasoned argument or debate. There was no time for anything else. If it’s any consolation, I’ve picked up more than two hundred people on escape shuttles, most of them close to making contact with your fleet. Don’t think of the lives you didn’t save. Think of the ones you did.”
“That’s cold comfort,” Romano said. “I don’t think I can look at the situation that way. I don’t think I want to, either.”
“Then you will make a poor commanding officer, when the time comes. Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good.” She paused, gestured at the sensor display, and added, “It might be something of a moot point. Lincoln’s listing, crippled. I’m showing massive damage to her power distribution network. I suspect Captain Forrest has made her own version of the same decision.”
“That’s different. Everyone on that ship signed up...”
“To protect the United States of America, yes? I doubt your recruiters were sufficiently prescient to predict that a situation such as this would arise. They’re following orders. Captain Forrest’s orders. Just as you and I are working for Commander Flynn and Major Volkov.”
“You seem rather better informed than you were.” Swinging around his rifle, he asked, “Who are you? Really, who are you? You aren’t just another garrison commander.”
“No,” Zani replied. “I’m disappointed in you, Lieutenant. Based on what I had been told, I’d anticipated that you would have put the pieces together rather more quickly than you did. Still, I suppose the circumstances were against you.”
“You’re working for Zemlyan Intelligence,” Romano said.
“Close. Lemurian. Though I understand that amounts to the same thing. I knew all about you and your crew within a couple of weeks of your arrival in our time. Though I’m not following orders today. I went off-script as soon as you arrived. I rather expected th
at something like this might happen.” Looking up at the sensors, she added, “Even if it means our death, at least we’ll have accomplished something I honestly thought impossible. You’ve ended the war in a single battle. I just hope you haven’t unleashed something far worse.”
“Worse than the Guild?”
“The implications of your arrival weren’t lost on everybody. Why do you think the Guild was obsessed with the PacFed cruisers? It wasn’t just about the technology, but far more than that. They wanted to find out just how you did it. How you turned the hyperdrive into a one-way time machine. You think you’re the only ones wanting to weaponize that?” Shaking her head, she added, “You have no room to talk about morality, Lieutenant. Not when, with your actions, you’ve dragged us back to the days of mutually assured destruction. Any ship with a hyperdrive might be a weapon capable of destroying a world. Or worse, because there would always have been the shroud of that cursed morality again. Whoever hits the button can console themselves that they aren’t dead, just thrown into an uncertain future, far in the distance. Taken out of whatever war they happen to be fighting, but without the horror of death. I suppose that’s better. Perhaps. Though I would tend to question that morality myself.”
Romano looked at her, frowned, then said, “I don’t know of I’ve got an answer for you. Though I’ll point out that Earth lived through a half-century of MAD once. And that space is big, big enough for...”
“For a hundred worlds to contest the hegemony of known space,” Zani replied.
“After what they just went through with the Guild, you think they’ll want another war?”
“What they want isn’t really relevant, is it? I have far less faith in human nature than you do. Though I hope to God that I’m wrong.” A beam of light swept through the wrecked airlock behind them, and they saw the rescue shuttle from Komarov outside, thrusters firing to keep it in position. Romano looked at the countdown clock, shaking his head.
Only the Brave (Lincoln's War Book 3) Page 17
