Attack of Shadows (Galaxy's Edge Book 4)

by Nick Cole

  Raptors and tri-fighters murdered each other in the maelstrom above. The maelstrom she was racing straight into.

  Didn’t they know it was over? Kat wondered incredulously. Didn’t they know they’d lost?

  The raptor was almost on top of her now, and there was no way she could shake it. Other pilots were trailing both, calling out to Kat to break off and get out of there.

  More shots slammed into her ship; warning lights pulsed and then died. Something in the back of Kat’s mind announced that the ship had just suffered a catastrophic electrical failure. That in the next second, the controls would no longer respond. A slow horror grew inside her. She was absolutely defenseless and vulnerable.

  And then training took over. She was already reaching up for the ejection handles when the hull integrity message flashed across the entire cockpit in a massive holographic projection that swam before her eyes in white glowing letters of urgency. EJECT NOW. The ship was finished.

  She yanked both handles as hard as she could, pulling them back to her. As though she were pulling herself up from a pool she’d been drowning in her whole life.

  The pod exploded away from the side deflectors and engines as Kat lost consciousness. The last image she saw was the Raptor racing beneath her, pursued by three tri-fighters howling for the pilot’s soul.

  And then she surrendered to the twilight land between life and death.

  15

  Bridge of the Corvette Audacity

  0654 Local System Time

  “We’ve got a firing solution, Captain!” shouted the torpedo officer over the comm.

  “Look at the size of those things. They’re enormous,” mumbled the co-pilot as they sped at the formation of battleships heading straight for them.

  “Never mind them,” rumbled Desaix. “Get that jump calc ready. We pop these babies, we’re out of here once they get lock.”

  Desaix slammed his hand on the comm. A tri-fighter streaked past the front of the ship. Behind the bridge, turrets were engaging everything they could. And all around them the Raptors providing fighter cover were going down one by one.

  “Fire all of them, now!”

  The torpedo officer didn’t even bother acknowledge the command as he began the launch sequences. Everyone knew how absolutely close and desperate this was. The only play was to shoot and get out of here.

  “Stand by to jump,” Desaix announced over the ship-wide comm.

  From the rear, massive ka-thunks resounded as launch hatches popped open, followed by ominous ka-chunks indicating the newly installed torpedoes had moved into the tubes. Seconds later the torpedoes were streaking up and away from the ship, leaving curling smoky vapor trails.

  Black Fleet

  Bridge of the Imperator

  0655 Local System Time

  “Launch detected,” said one of the tactical officers. He handed his datapad to the first officer.

  The first officer quickly stepped over to Admiral Rommal. “Sir… we’ve detected some kind of launch from that corvette.” His tone was one of slight bewilderment, or even bemusement. “Scans indicate these are probably a type of torpedo not yet fielded in the Republic’s arsenal.”

  Rommal raised his eyebrows. “Probably?”

  The officer cleared his throat. An annoying habit the man didn’t seem to be able to shake. “Could be, sir. There was some intel indicating they were testing ship killers for use against local pirate warlords who were purchasing old capital ships off the black markets. Since the Republic isn’t interested in bigger ships, there were rumors they were planning to outfit the hammerhead corvette class with a new type of weapon capable of tackling bigger ships. If this is that… it could present a danger.”

  “Can we jam them?” asked Rommal.

  “Trying, sir. But as long as the launching ship remains, they’re running some kind of closed-loop quantum encryption tracking we won’t be able to break in on. If this is that system. They’re not like the regular ship torpedoes—more like an ancient guided missile. Once she jumps, it shouldn’t be a problem to scramble the torpedoes. Their signals will be vulnerable at that point.”

  Rommal was suddenly aware of the unknown variable at play. The thought of even one of these torpedoes doing serious damage to his ships was enough to make him cautious. He didn’t want to have to explain that to Goth Sullus. No. Not at all. There was too much to explain already.

  He, Rommal, was the unknown variable. His caution was making him choose between what was best for him and what was best for the operation. Knowing this did little to affect his next decision. It was almost as if he couldn’t help himself. As though a sudden fear he’d never known overrode the most logical choice he could make.

  “Switch main gun targeting to the corvette. We’ll deal with it first. Then scramble the torpedoes. The carrier will be helpless at that point.”

  “As you command, sir.”

  Bridge of the Corvette Audacity

  0658 Local System Time

  “Sensors here, Captain. They’re trying to hack the torps. As soon as we jump… they most likely will.”

  The pilot screamed, “They’re firing at us!”

  The massive ion guns of the lead battleship had opened up on the tiny corvette. One hit was most likely a kill.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” shouted Desaix. “Stand by to jump us out of here!”

  The burning disc of energy that was the first ion shot just narrowly missed the corvette.

  “Can’t jump and ensure torpedo lock integrity,” the sensor operator reminded him.

  “How many seconds till they go wild weasel?”

  “Hard to say. They’re smart torpedoes as long as they’re talking to us. They’re thinking for themselves based on our data. They’re trying to find the best angle and range to enter the warhead phase.”

  Even though they have no warheads, thought Desaix grimly.

  “Can we override?”

  “Negative. Not now. They’re using our telemetry to engage. Again… we jump, they’ll be very vulnerable, Captain.”

  Desaix turned to stare down the length of the bridge. Everyone was waiting for him to go ahead and order jump. Behind him, the massive battleships loomed larger in the cockpit window.

  Engineering Section of the Corvette Audacity

  Local System Time 0659

  Bombassa had waited. After finally managing to get through an inner-outer hull maintenance lock, he’d popped out somewhere in crew quarters. He’d quickly shucked his armor and grabbed a naval uniform that barely fit.

  As a Legion NCO, he’d taken escape and evasion courses, and he figured all the training he’d received in the month-long course on Skerith was probably relevant to his current situation.

  The mission was still in play, as far as he was concerned. Locate the governor and capture him. He had his sidearm—a snub-nosed blaster that packed a powerful punch—and the cutting torch.

  After locating a medical pack in a small dispensary currently not in use, he stowed both weapons inside the bag and moved out into the main passages. Every corridor was filled with refugees, and he could hear the howl of the battle between the fighters and the return fire from the capital ships ringing throughout the hull. All of this mixed with the close passes of tri-fighters—and occasionally the massive hollow BOOOOOOM of a starship exploding.

  Eyes on mission, he told himself as he moved forward, fearing death by decompression of a holed hull at any second.

  On a small ship like this, most everyone had a good idea of who was who. Asking where the governor was probably wasn’t going to do anything but set off alarms. So that wasn’t an option.

  But Bombassa had been on hammerhead corvettes before. He’d been assigned diplomatic duty, once, long ago when he was a private. He knew there were special quarters for dignitaries forward, below the main command deck.

  In a crowded central passage up the spine of the ship, Bombassa stopped to listen as someone from the crew announced that the corvette would be docki
ng with the carrier shortly and that all non-crew were to leave the ship immediately by a series of exits that were noted. The voice also added that there would be a lengthy security screening on the carrier’s hangar deck to ensure everyone’s safety.

  And seeing as Bombassa didn’t have even the most basic of Repub credentials—they’d been made to destroy everything during training on Tusca, erasing all traces of who they once were—staying on the ship was the only way to go.

  He listened to the powerful docking clamps of the carrier attach above and below the hull. Most likely engineering would be a safe, and dark, place to hide.

  He began to force his way through the swelling crowd as they pushed toward the various portside hatches. In time he made it aft, where he was able to move quickly until he was confronted by two marines—part of the shipboard security contingent every Repub ship carried. They were in a side passage that ran along starboard stores, deck fifteen.

  But generally they were removed from the crew. They kept to themselves. Better for security that way. Which meant they wouldn’t recognize that he wasn’t part of the crew. So Bombassa tried to bluff his way past them.

  “We’ve got a radiation leak down in engineering. I’m on my way to treat for burns. Gotta go, guys.”

  From the looks on their faces, he guessed he’d just set off warning bells. For one thing, he figured, he wasn’t wearing a navy medical uniform; he was wearing deck officer browns. More importantly, a guy like Bombassa stood out among… anyone. The marines would’ve noticed a giant dark-skinned titan who towered over them being on the ship at some point during their six-month rotation. He just wasn’t built for stealth.

  “Better call this in,” said one marine to the other.

  The mistake the two marines made was that they didn’t get their weapons up once they realized they might have a situation.

  Bombassa drove his fist in a lights-out right cross straight into the first marine’s chin. It was a cheap shot from a sledgehammer. But as they’d always said in the Legion… play to win. The guy’s head snapped back, and Bombassa’s fist felt an awful crunch.

  He distantly wondered if he hadn’t broken the man’s neck outright.

  The second marine reared back like a snake, bringing his assault blaster up swiftly to engage. Bombassa merely continued all the way around with his punch, letting his kinetic motion and massive body follow as he threw a roundhouse kick at the side of the other guy’s head with the full force of his massive boot.

  Both marines were now down, unmoving.

  He broke both their necks and moved their bodies behind some transport cases. He left their weapons, because carrying them would set off more alarm bells. His hidden blaster pistol would be enough anyway. Then he shouldered the medical bag he’d dropped in the assault and continued down the passage toward engineering. By now the ship was back underway, and Bombassa had a bad feeling that if it managed to jump out of this battle he’d end up being executed.

  Ominous ka-thunks and ka-chunks sounded above him.

  Two options now faced him. One… find an escape pod, eject out into the battle, and somehow disable the jump battery before the thing took off toward the nearest Repub-friendly port. Or two… knock out this ship’s ability to jump him into enemy hands.

  His decision was to attack engineering.

  Bombassa had no idea how to disable anything.

  Other than shoot it.

  He laid down the medical bag and withdrew the blaster pistol. Then he pulled out the torch, too. Shoot everything and everyone. Cut into all vital systems with the torch.

  In the end, he was bound to break something.

  Black Fleet

  Bridge of the Imperator

  0600 Local System Time

  Admiral Rommal watched the missiles and the corvette in holographic real time. Across the expanse of the massive battleship, the ion cannons thrummed and boomed as the corvette dodged shots and ran. Meanwhile there were twelve missiles inbound.

  “All turrets, target those missiles! Nothing gets through!” he shouted across the bridge. He’d never shouted. He’d never been this desperate. But this was too damned close.

  And then, in horror, he watched as twelve torpedoes suddenly became… many.

  Sirens whooped from sensor controls. Beyond the massive bridge windows, space was filled by torpedoes and vapor trails.

  “The torpedoes must have been some kind of multi-vehicle launch system!” the first officer shouted.

  The explanation seemed lame to Rommal. And a bit late.

  And we’re dead, he thought. “Starboard evasive. Waist guns, screening fire!”

  Maneuver alarms sounded across the ship as it hove to. Beyond the massive windows of the bridge, both Terror and Revenge were moving ponderously, heeling over to bring their devastating broadside guns in to support the screening fire that would come far too late.

  “Ninety-six… no, ninety-eight missiles tracking on our position, Admiral,” announced some desperate sensor officer.

  All across the battleship every gun that could be brought to bear was sending up a wall of blaster fire in order to knock down the myriad vapor trails tracking in on the ship.

  “One hundred!”

  Bridge of the Corvette Audacity

  0601 Local System Time

  “They’ve split! We’re clear to get out of here, Captain,” cried the torpedo officer.

  “Jump now!” ordered Desaix as a massive ion shot streaked past the hull. It must have been exceptionally close, because the deflector on that side collapsed just by attempting to absorb the latent passing energy from the seething mass of the charged ion shot.

  “We’re outta here, Captain. Hold on…”

  The pilot reached up and pushed the jump levers forward.

  Nothing.

  “Captain!” It was the comm officer. “Carrier Freedom says thank you for the assist. They’re clear to jump.”

  “I’m getting system faults all across engineering. What’s going on back there?” shouted the co-pilot. He threw his datapad to the floor and scrambled up to reach the master bus to reroute jump control through the auxiliary systems.

  He flipped switches in vain. Nothing was happening. Then he turned to Desaix. “We’re dead in space!”

  The man’s look of horror was made all the more poignant by the view beyond the bridge’s windows. The non-warhead torpedoes were now smashing—harmlessly—into the deflectors of the looming battleships. Even now the battleships were returning to course. Bearing down to fire on the stranded corvette.

  “Sir,” said the comm officer over the bridge speakers. “Inter-ship communication from engineering.”

  Desaix released his grip on the pilot’s chair. “Send it through.”

  A moment of silence passed.

  Then an unrecognized voice came through. It was deep and rich. And though its tone was pleasant… it would be the narrator of so many of Desaix’s nightmares in the POW camp he would find himself in.

  “This is Sergeant Okindo Bombassa of Third Group. Your ship’s power has been disabled. Stand down and signal your surrender to the fleet before they destroy us all.”

  Republic Third Fleet

  Super-Destroyer Rontaar

  En Route to Tarrago

  0609 Local System Time

  Admiral Devers smiled as the crew went to battle stations. In his mind, he’d played the game well. Faking distress. Convincing his conspirator that he was engaged all along. He was the information pipeline, and the man had fallen for it all, allowing Devers to make the best decision for his own future. He’d waited to see who would win. He’d filed bad reports with that idiot Karr. And now, not that Goth Sullus was clearly the winner—a thing no one had been wholly sure of—now he’d pop in and take the carrier himself.

  It was time to tighten up the alliance and grab a little glory.

  In just moments his ship, and the rest of Third Fleet, would drop in right behind Landoo’s carrier.

  Goth Sullu
s would be pleased.

  And Karr was no longer needed.

  Republic Seventh Fleet, Carrier Group

  Bridge of the Freedom

  0608 Local System Time

  Admiral Landoo watched as Devers’s fleet jumped in right behind her. At first she thought they were saved. That the Third had finally arrived. But already comm was getting a message for them to surrender. From Devers himself. It was playing across the bridge comm.

  The traitor, she thought bitterly. That explained a lot.

  And then the CIC nodded to her, pointing toward the systems display. The jump calc re-route was done.

  “Admiral, we’re clear.”

  Without hesitation she shouted, “Jump now!”

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Second Squadron, “Gunfighters”

  0609 Local System Time

  Maybe she was all that remained of her squadron. She had no idea. She’d stayed with the corvette as long as she could. Once the big ships had started shooting their main guns, the enemy tri-fighters had cleared out.

  She watched as the missiles were fired from the corvette, then she broke off. The battleships were coming in fast now.

  Moments later, the carrier group jumped away from the battle. They would live to fight another day.

  But by that time she was doing everything she could to keep her fighter from coming to pieces all around her in the vast black loneliness of enemy occupied space.

  So she made for Tarrago Prime.

  Warning bells and system malfunction alarms competed for her attention as she dove through the atmosphere. Her ship shook violently.

  In the distance she could see the main capital. It was on fire. Strange dropships and assault transports were descending through storm clouds. A private starship tried to take off and escape. Tri-fighters swooped after it and shot it down.