Attack of Shadows (Galaxy's Edge Book 4)

by Nick Cole

  “Ion gun charging to full,” said the weapons officer on the deck above Nagu’s command deck. “Thirty seconds to firing, Admiral.”

  If we can get another shot past their deflectors, thought Nagu, then we might just do something here.

  “Point defense turrets online!” cried out one of the bridge officers, a little too emphatically. The enthusiasm seemed to be catching, and Nagu found some comfort in this. It meant they were eager for battle, instead of frightened. Many of them had never had a ship shot out from under them. And neither had Nagu.

  “Deflectors charging to full!”

  Other deck officers reeled off status reports as the massive Atlantica lumbered into weapons range of the three enormous enemy battleships on the stellar horizon.

  Black Fleet

  Bridge of the Imperator

  0503 Local System Time

  “We’re listing!” shouted the CIC as the bridge of the flagship suddenly canted off beam.

  Rommal grabbed the edge of his tactical display and looked over toward telemetry. The helmsmen were fighting to restore control of the giant ship, which still reeled from the massive amount of energy it had just displaced in deflecting the shot.

  Collision alerts shrieked, and other, lesser klaxons competed for attention.

  Bridge Captain Andrun stumbled across the listing bridge’s highly polished floor and grabbed hold of the tactical display opposite Admiral Rommal. The look on his face felt like the inside of Rommal’s stomach.

  “Direct hit, sir. We’ve lost the starboard capacitors on decks forty-one through forty-three. Should be back online according to design in just a moment. Gravitational plates went a bit haywire… but they’re stabilizing. It’s all a learning curve, sir. This is our first time out.”

  He smiled hopefully.

  “But she held, sir. She took a direct shot from an ion gun and held. We’re blooded, sir! We can do this today.”

  It was a little premature to be celebrating that, thought Rommal. But he let the man have his moment. Right now a little enthusiasm and motivation might go a long way.

  Rommal nodded to show that he agreed.

  “Sir…” said the CIC from tactical, “we’ve got fighter cover up. Squadrons two through sixteen forming up.” The ship was beginning to find her balance again. “We’re tracking two hundred and seventy fighters inbound from the Seventh. And two additional squadrons coming up from Tarrago Command. That puts their number at three hundred and ten.”

  Rommal weighed that against the six squadrons each battleship carried. He had the numbers. Now, he thought, let’s see who survives first contact.

  Rommal nodded as the Imperator settled back onto her course and quietly thundered ahead into the oncoming Republic Fleet’s formation.

  “Open fire now?” asked the CIC.

  Rommal nodded again and watched as both groups of fighters moved away from their respective fleets, racing out to meet the incoming enemy.

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  First Squadron, “Gray Wolves”

  Reassigned to Oblavia Airfield, Ad Hoc Special Operations Strike Command

  Above Tarrago

  0509 Local System Time

  “Gray Leader, this is Gray Seven. We have an incoming analysis on the lead target, currently identified as battleship class. She’s a monster.”

  “Go ahead, Seven,” replied Commander Luq.

  Luq and OU7 had barely survived the direct hit on the rebel destroyer that tried to block Audacity’s jump. Most of the other tri-fighters and the rest of the Wolves had gone up in the blast wave after the orbital gun had destroyed the mysterious rebel ship, but in the seconds after the blast, Luq had found himself flying through a maelstrom of burning gas and expanding debris clouds shooting off in every direction, and somehow, he’d come out the other side of it with barely a scratch—though for a moment it had felt as though the ship was going to rattle itself apart.

  After a quick nap in the back of a noisy hangar at Oblavia Airfield while his ship was repaired and rearmed, he had found himself assigned to a special weapons strike team. The plan was for a fighter escort, accompanied by a special ECM Lancer, to fly two bombers right in under the enemy’s deflectors and try to knock out a “critical” ship system. Luq would lead that strike team, with OU7 flying escort. No “critical system” had yet been identified on the giant enemy ship, but now that the carrier group’s scout frigate was lashing the three battleships with every sensor it could bring to bear, new targeting data was being developed all the time.

  “Highlighting on your HUD now,” said Gray Seven. “If you can get us through what looks to be a lot of point defense fire, we can lob our baby into what targeting analysis tells us is their external reactor. Might be able to knock out a significant amount of their onboard power. It could even possibly be tied in to their deflector system. We won’t know until we hit it.”

  OU7 whirred and beeped angrily behind Commander Luq.

  “My bot still says we’ve got to have those deflectors down before we can even get close.”

  “Little guy’s right about that,” replied Gray Seven. His transmission distorted and popped; they were passing through Tarrago’s ionosphere. “Our weapons package won’t penetrate deflectors, Gray Leader. But once they’re down, we’re all clear for a shot.”

  OU7 beeped and clicked, announcing a new incoming message. Luq tapped the comm authorization and switched over to group leader strike comm.

  “Gray Leader here.”

  “Gray Leader, this is Bandit Leader. We copy your mission from Freedom’s air boss. Form up on us, and we’ll get you through their fighter cover and follow you in for the strike.”

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  First Squadron, “Bandits,” 29th Wing

  Assigned to Carrier Freedom

  0511 Local System Time

  “There’s too many of them!”

  “Cut that, Bandit Six.”

  Bandit Leader tried to keep his eyes off the incoming wall of enemy fighters streaking toward them in the foreground—and the three massive gray battleships in the background. They were definitely outnumbered two to one. Minimum. And who knew what else the enemy was holding back.

  He finished dialing in his deflector settings for his Lancer and checked in with his rear gunner.

  “You ready for this, kid?”

  “Roger that, sir. Just lead ’em nice and slow and I’ll fill ’em full of blaster holes.”

  Good kid, thought Bandit Leader. And a good rear gunner in a situation like this one was probably going to make a difference in whether they made it back to the flight deck, or didn’t.

  “Just keep ’em off of us, kid.”

  Bandit Leader switched to all-squadron leader comm.

  “All squadrons report in.”

  “Pirate Lead… we’re hot.”

  “Paladin Lead… roger.”

  “Knight Leader… on your six.”

  “Storm here. Let’s do this, Bandit Leader.”

  “Cyclone Leader… might as well.”

  “Red Leader… roger. We’re in.”

  “Blue Leader… copy.”

  “Hearts Leader… guns online.”

  “Spades… we hear and obey, Bandit Leader.”

  “Angel Leader… we’re in.”

  “Joker Lead… Let’s roll, Bandit Lead.”

  Bandit Leader settled back into his seat and reached up to activate the forward blasters. The sense that this was really about to happen tried to overwhelm him. He shook it off and set himself to killing and not dying.

  The wall of strange three-deflectored enemy fighters raced up on them all at once, and both masses suddenly formed a cyclone of machines and battle.

  “Here they come, boy and girls. Make ’em pay.”

  Black Fleet

  Third Wing, First Squadron, “Pit Vipers”

  Fighter Engagement, Forward of Fleets

  0512 Local System Time

  Lieutenant Haladis opened up on
an incoming Lancer. She wanted to feel the long slow BRAAAAAAAP of the slug-throwing guns she’d had on her last ship, but that had been shot to pieces, and she’d barely made it back to the Terror.

  In medical checkout, the squadron supply chief had told her they’d dropped a new tri-fighter interceptor out of stores for her. Her last ship had been an interceptor variant set up for ground attack. This one carried the standard blasters for fighter-to-fighter engagements.

  And now she was shoulder-deep in the biggest dogfight in modern galactic history. This, she felt certain, was a singular moment that might happen only once in a generation.

  The years ahead were to prove her wrong by orders of magnitude.

  And she could’ve cared less at this very instant, as battle and survival and the desire to kill or be killed transformed her.

  Because death was almost certain now.

  Both sides had gone in screaming at top speed straight for each other’s throats. At blasters range, they’d simultaneously opened up in a sudden and hellacious erratic volley of fire. Some ships went up instantly, while others broke and chased. A few even managed to slam head on into the fighter they’d only just been trying to kill in the bare seconds before both sides met. Those ships had vaporized, throwing exploding debris and vapor trails in every direction, their ion reactors cooking off and detonating in secondary explosions.

  Kat had squeezed off a few short blasts on an incoming Lancer. But her wingman, Viper Two, had gone up in sudden flames. So had the tri-fighter ahead of her. So she’d pulled back on the stick and climbed to avoid debris, and she’d lost her firing window.

  Never mind that, she thought, as she tracked a Raptor streaking through a scrum of fighters. She increased throttle to pick up his tail. A moment later she was squeezing off shots into his deflectors. The Raptor’s starboard wing disintegrated, and the fighter went spinning end around end and then came apart all at once. He was done.

  Kat broke off and fell in with a tri-fighter her HUD identified as Delta Twelve.

  “On your six, Delta Twelve.”

  “Thanks… Viper Lead. Going in close on this one.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Kat matched the other tri-fighter as it throttled up, blasters blazing, and scored a series of hits on a Lancer. Then the Lancer’s rear gunner opened up and punched Delta Twelve’s center pod, and Delta Twelve exploded in every direction.

  Kat’s ship took some deflector damage. She rerouted auxiliary batteries to reinforce the deflectors, then scanned for more bandits as she closed in on the Lancer. She didn’t feel frightened. She felt alive. And close to Dasto.

  She rolled one-eighty just to get the rear gunner thinking she was going to break, then came back in at the ship with blasters ranging in on the fat twin ion nacelles. Shots broke through the rear deflectors, which were lightly powered because the pilot thought the gunner had his back. One engine exploded, and the ship came apart.

  Kat took a deep breath and narrowly avoided smashing into another tri-fighter that had come in at a cross angle for an assist.

  She rolled her head and scanned for a new victim.

  10

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  First Squadron, “Bandits”

  Assigned to Carrier Freedom

  0515 Local System Time

  “Bandit Leader, we just lost Bandit Six. Suggest we—”

  The comm went dead.

  Bandit Leader checked the roster in his helmet HUD and thumbed through his own squadron from the Freedom. He danced the Lancer this way and that, got a sight picture for the forward blasters, and smoked an enemy fighter.

  “Three,” he whispered into the ether of the inter-ship comm.

  He had three kills so far.

  Maybe, he thought, this is just that. A game to play all by myself. Because of course, there’s no winning this, is there?

  “All squadrons—”

  He jerked his ship out of the way of two incoming enemy fighters and rolled off hard for an opposite heading.

  “Break off and commence your attack on the lead battleship.”

  “What if they forget about us and close with Freedom?” said Hearts Lead over the all-squadron comm.

  “They’ve got to get past Atlantica and the destroyer squadron. Plus Freedom’s got another surprise waiting for them. Let’s give ’em a choice. Their ships, or ours.”

  Black Fleet

  Bridge of the Imperator

  0518 Local System Time

  The CIC stepped close to Admiral Rommal. Casualty reports were coming in from the squadrons.

  “Sir, they’re breaking away from the initial dogfight engagement. They’re coming for us now. We can put up two more squadrons for cover and allow the strike to continue against the Republic Fleet. Our turret defenses should be sufficient.”

  Admiral Rommal studied the datapad the man had just handed him. The tactical analysis was sound, sensible, and could deliver the desired outcome of this phase of the operation within the hour.

  But Admiral Rommal was a cautious man.

  “Tell them to fall back and cover our approach to the fleet. If we can knock out their fighters now, that will make destroying their fleet much easier when the time comes to close.”

  The CIC stared at him for a long moment. Not a challenge. Not even really a stare. It was as though the man was running the math inside his own head. Checking and rechecking the whole scenario, because it was just far too important to leave to the machines.

  And far too important for any one man to decide all their fates in just the space of an order.

  Finally he seemed to settle on something he could live with.

  “As you wish, Admiral.”

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Bridge of the Freedom

  Rear of the Forward Line of Engagement

  0518 Local System Time

  “Put me through to the air boss.”

  Admiral Landoo waited the half second it took to pull the officer from his duties and get him on the comm. She herself was studying tactical in the combat information center. She’d moved back to this command node to better assess the battle at range. Deep sensors provided a more complete analysis, and it was a much better command center from which to control the battle.

  “Control” the battle. That seemed a joke to her right now. As if a battle can ever be controlled. It already seemed to be turning into a barroom brawl. They’d lost a third of their forces in the dogfight. The critical question in the next few moments was which way this new fleet would play it.

  Chase them back to cover their shiny new ships.

  Or…

  Come in for the kill and close with the awesome point defense capabilities of the destroyer squadron, with Atlantica and her powerful ion gun as the anchor.

  “Ops, Admiral,” came the air boss’s reply.

  “How long until we can launch?”

  Pause. She could hear the murmur of static-laden updates coming in from the dogfight now moving over the enemy battleships.

  Those are people, she told herself as she watched all the ghostly holograms suddenly mixing, disappearing, and breaking off. Your people.

  And they’re getting cut down to lay a trap.

  It’s the only way, she reminded herself. This is all new. We had to play it safe. We needed a surprise. An edge.

  “Another fifteen minutes and I can get both squadrons off the deck within five minutes. Or I can get ’em up now in fractions. It’s your call, Admiral.”

  “No. Continue with the plan. I want everything ready to go all at once.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  Admiral Landoo turned to her strike coordinator. The officer was wearing a helmet that allowed her to view the battle in rendered real-time. The admiral had to place her hand on the girl’s shoulder to get her attention.

  “Yes, Admiral?”

  “Status on our special delivery from Tarrago?”

  “He’s getting a lot of air cover, ma’am. We’re almost t
hrough the main screen. He’ll be ready to drop in the next forty-five seconds.”

  The admiral watched the strike board beneath her. If they got this one through, they might just get off easily. Taking out one of their ships right now might just check their advance.

  “Admiral…” It was a junior comm/sensors liaison officer. “Audacity has just jumped in. Her captain signals she’s ready to fight.”

  Landoo steadied herself against the rail that surrounded the display. All around her lights glimmered, holograms swam with real-time updates, and static roared and flared from incoming comm traffic. The darkness of the combat information center was a murmuring facsimile of the battle it watched.

  And still there was no way to get through to Fortress Omicron. Either they were dead, it was captured… or transmissions were being jammed.

  “Tell him to form up with the sensor frigate inside the group.”

  She would reprimand him later. Right now she needed every ship she could get her hands on.

  House of Reason

  Utopion

  Orrin Kaar chewed his fingernails. He never chewed his fingernails. They would need to be re-genned and manicured to keep up appearances. But for now, he couldn’t help himself. He spit out a piece of his thumbnail onto his carpets as he watched the holovid broadcast from Admiral Devers.

  This was a major naval battle. The single biggest since the Savage Wars, no doubt. The Seventh Fleet had arrived, and did not take the bait. They were engaging both Sullus’s Black Fleet and Devers’s Third Fleet. Admiral Landoo was entirely outmatched, and her only hope would be to retreat before her fleet was eradicated. But that chance should not have been left open to her.

  Mercifully, Admiral Devers interrupted the recorded holovid, having reached his quarters to take Kaar’s comm call. “Delegate, the battle is intense, and—”