by Evan Currie
► The big ship shuddered again as another biting strike from enemy lasers cored deep through its armor, venting atmosphere to space and emptying lungs and terminating lives in the same blinding moment. Drey wrapped his hands around the edge of his station, knuckles white as he stared doggedly forward at the screens and tried not to think about what had been done to his ship . . . to his ship’s crew.
Drey was not—had never even imagined being—a violent man.
At that moment, however, he wanted nothing more than to bring his ship around and put his primary lasers on target. He could do it too. The warp drive would allow him to accelerate out of the system even facing the wrong way, but the efficiency wasn’t as high, and with the range opening up every passing second, getting strikes on target with only one ship firing just didn’t warrant the slight loss of acceleration.
There was nothing he could do, and it was eating him inside as he watched people working feverishly around him.
Is this what war is? Waiting to die, killing, or being forced to stand and watch as others did both? How do the Terrans do this?
CHAPTER 7
Imperial Task Group
► Misrem couldn’t help but lean a little forward in her station as she watched the “battle” underway. Calling it a battle might be a little generous. It was really more of an ambush, and she was mildly impressed that the Oather vessel hadn’t simply run from the start or succumbed to idiocy at this point.
The exchange of beams between the fleeing vessel and her own task force had piqued her strategic curiosity, however, and now she was watching each new bit of data with intense interest.
The few Oather strikes that landed on her vessels were doing damage well out of line with their power rating, which told her they had something new in their weapons technology to go with the improved armor that she was almost certain she’d already figured out the basics for.
Some sort of adaptive system, which makes me wonder if the lasers might not also be the same. Misrem made a note in her official log to ensure that if she wasn’t able to determine the truth of her deduction, then the next Imperial officer assigned would have a place to begin.
The Oather ship was able to ignore the blasts coming from one of her cruisers with relative impunity, an effect noticeably different from the other destroyers and cruisers maintaining active fire on the fleeing craft. The other ships had significantly improved results, varying a fair degree from vessel to vessel.
She made notes as the data became available and began compiling a set of orders to go out when she felt the time was right.
“New signal!”
Misrem looked up sharply from her calculations, eyes immediately drawn to the long-range display.
“Analysis,” she snapped, even as she started skimming the numbers.
“Gravity scans are consistent with Oather cruisers, Navarch,” the scanner technician answered instantly. “We are still waiting on light-speed data, however.”
“What?” She frowned.
That made little sense. Certainly, the cruisers could have remained unnoticed as they approached until the gravity scanners picked them up, but once her ship had its instruments pointed in the right direction, something should have been seen on the passive scanners.
“No explanation, Navarch,” the tech said, sounding rather frustrated. “It is like they just appeared. We have nothing on them yet, nothing at all.”
Were they waiting out there all this time? Misrem wondered, though it made no sense. Why would they light off their gravity drives this late if that were the case?
She got up and walked over to the main display to look at the numbers more closely, scowling openly at data that refused to make sense.
“How did they get that close without us picking up their gravity wave?” she demanded, angry at the lapse. “If someone missed their approach—”
“No Navarch,” the tech said instantly, surprising her with the force of his response. “No one missed anything. I ran back the scanners personally, but you can of course confirm for yourself. They had to be out there until just a few moments ago, Navarch.”
She glared at him for interrupting until he looked away, but didn’t challenge his statement. He knew that she would check, and if he had lied to her, she would have his head. No, barring something utterly stupid, he was telling the truth.
She looked back at the display again after a moment, eyes quickly picking apart the data until she had an idea of the size of the approaching force.
They weren’t enough to turn the tables, but they would certainly cut into her assembly some if they were willing to stand off.
She could take those losses, however, and still accomplish the mission. In fact, their arrival might well play into her hand if she could make proper use of it.
“How long until we get light-speed data?” she asked softly, eyes drifting along the big display.
“Another few hours, Navarch.”
“Precise numbers, please,” she snapped as she turned on her heel and stalked back to her station. “To my board. Now.”
By the time she was settled back into place, the numbers were there, and she started to evaluate the possibilities.
I can work with this.
Priminae Vessel Zeu
► The task group was rapidly accelerating down the gravity well of the local star. It had been some time since they started their course, and Druel knew that their light-speed signal would reach both the Tetanna and the enemy vessels. It was unlikely that either was truly unaware of their approach, of course, but they would soon have better access to raw numbers, if nothing else.
So far, oddly, there was no real sign in the enemy formation that they had noticed the task group’s approach.
He supposed that there wasn’t much they could react to yet, but they hadn’t even blinked for an instant.
That does not bode well, Druel supposed darkly. If they were willing to fully commit to an attack on this system, he was all too aware that his small group just didn’t have enough strength to stop them. They would follow the Tetanna’s example, at the very least, and attempt to strike and fade, tying the enemy up for as long as they could. But if help didn’t arrive, then he would eventually be forced to decide between standing and dying or fleeing to fight another day.
Without any real possibility of doing more than buying the inhabitants of the local colony more than a few hours—days at most—there was unfortunately no real decision to be made.
Before it comes to that, however, he thought grimly, we’ll bleed them out as best we can.
Tetanna
► “Visual confirmation on the incoming ships, Captain. They’re Priminae.”
Drey slumped slightly, relief flooding him. His ship was bleeding air from practically every deck, with more lancing beams now cutting through the armor regularly. If the ships on approach had been more of the enemy, it would have been the end for the Tetanna and her crew.
His only real choice then would have been surrender . . . or a final run to inflict as much damage as he could before they burned him from the void.
Drey was desperately relieved to not have to make that decision.
“Put their course up, and overlay it on ours and the enemy squadron,” he ordered.
The three vector arcs were lit up on the large holographic display an instant later, and he examined them closely to try to determine his next best move.
The attackers were steadily falling behind, but it was a slow process. The Tetanna had lost some acceleration due to battle damage but was still going to clear enemy fire relatively soon. Once that happened, they would be able to freely exit the system.
With a new squadron in the area, however, the Imperials could possibly withdraw.
Drey didn’t expect that. So far, the enemy forces had shown a disturbing lack of interest in the health of their own people, which left him with no particular optimism for what they might do to anyone else.
“Maintain optimum escape cours
e,” he confirmed after examining the approach vectors. The Priminae squadron had apparently plotted their approach based on the Tetanna’s escape course, and he saw no reason to foul whatever plan they had in mind.
Not when it only required that he continue doing what he’d already determined to be his best option.
Imperial Task Group
► “Fire orders,” Misrem called out, tapping open her orders. “Dispatch to all ships.”
“Aye Navarch. Standing by for dispatch,” her aide replied instantly.
She flicked the orders off with a gesture, sending the file out to her aide, who instantly redirected them to the fire control officers of the varying ships she’d designated.
Onscreen, she saw the results of the new orders almost instantly as several vessels shifted their deployment formation slightly. One of the cruisers was instructed to drop back from its position in the formation while two more slipped in to replace it.
She watched as they settled in, then tapped off a timer as they fired under her tactical orders.
“Now we wait,” she said, confusing her aide and several others around her.
Misrem didn’t bother to explain. She didn’t have to. They would follow orders, however confusing they might be, and that was enough.
Seconds passed, crawling in her perception as she mentally counted off the distance between her ships and their prey.
When that timer counted down, nothing happened.
Not on the screens. But Misrem smiled and rose to her feet.
“Cease fire,” she ordered. “All ships, cease fire.”
“Ma’am?” Her aide looked at her, surprise written on the man’s face.
“You did not mishear,” Misrem said. “All ships are to cease fire. We have them. No need to destroy our prize.”
“Yes Navarch,” her aide said, obviously uncertain but following orders.
Misrem didn’t bother elucidating him as she began snapping other orders.
“I want a boarding Parasite readied,” she said. “Full crew. Orders to follow after they launch.”
Tetanna
► Drey supposed that he should have known things were going too well.
They were almost out of range when it happened.
The Tetanna had become used to a certain pattern in the enemy blasts. They’d adapted their armor to one of the cruisers, and since they were aware of its firing angle, they could safely ignore the expected blasts from that ship.
When the expected beams arrived bearing not only a different frequency but also twice the density anyone had calculated, all went right to the void in a split instant of time.
The Tetanna had twisted in space, the outgassing shock alone throwing her off course, and then lurched—actually lurched—enough to throw men and women to the deck. Drey hadn’t even thought that was possible.
Alarms screamed around him as he picked himself up. He looked at the displays lit around him, trying to figure out what had happened after it was far too late.
“Acceleration is dead! We’re drifting!”
They’ll be gaining on us shortly, Drey mentally swore. We were so close!
Unfortunately, close did not count.
“Repair teams!” he ordered. “Get our drives back!”
“Captain . . .”
Drey shifted, looking over to where his second was approaching. “What is it?”
“It’s quiet.”
For a moment, he didn’t understand what that meant. Alarms were screaming and could deafen any man, but then Drey realized what the second meant. Behind the screaming of the alarms, the previously steady sound of distant pounding as the lasers cut open the decks and exposed them to explosive decompression . . . that sound had stopped.
“They stopped shooting,” he whispered. “Why did they stop shooting?”
CHAPTER 8
Priminae Colony Space
► “Secure from transition!”
The call echoed across the bridge as Eric gripped the rail in front of him with fingers cracking under tension.
His stomach was stronger than most, but even he had to fight down the urge to vomit. As if he was going to let that happen on his flag deck. A couple of deep breaths, the smell of charcoal filters burning away the last urges to release, and he straightened up to look at the plot.
The system signals were already flooding the Odysseus’ computers, but only one of the other Heroics and three Rogues were on his screens. The rest must have transitioned farther out than the few seconds of light able to reach the ship’s scanners so far.
There’s the Boudicca and her escorts now, he noted just before the last of the Rogues appeared onscreen.
All accounted for.
He turned his attention to the system. The FTL jamming was evident, making a mess of what they were able to scan in the high-energy tachyon range, but even degraded, they could now pick up traces of the Priminae’s local network.
Good to see they’re still transmitting, Eric thought. We might not be too late.
“See if you can connect to the local network,” he ordered, looking over to the comms officer. “With the jamming this intense, there probably won’t be much of anything useful on it, but anything we can grab is one more arrow in the quiver.”
“Aye Captain.”
“In the meantime . . .” Eric thumbed a button on the panel in front of him and linked into the squadron’s battle network via laser link. “Rogues, I want you to spread formation and go deep and silent. Shadow the Heroics in; we’ll be your shields. Don’t show yourselves until you have a kill shot lined up. I don’t want to waste any chances here.
“Boudicca, Bellerophon,” he went on, “give me a delta-wing formation. Odysseus will take the spear tip—”
“Captain,” the scanner chief called, causing Eric to pause and look up. “System scans are coming through the computers now. We’ve got indications of high-energy discharges deep in system. Looks like lasers, sir.”
“How far in?” Eric asked.
“About two light-hours, sir, and closing the range in our general direction according to vector data.”
Eric considered that.
That made sense, as they’d made their approach from the vector to the Priminae Central worlds. Anyone running out of this system would likely be heading in that direction. It also meant the Priminae ships were probably in withdrawal, because he’d have expected the Imperial forces to withdraw toward their own territory.
Assuming he wasn’t completely off the mark, at least. A lot of factors might change such a theory, but he’d play it the way he saw it and adjust as he got new information.
“Steph, make our course to intercept the projected vectors of those discharges,” Eric ordered. “Full military acceleration.”
“Aye aye, Skipper. Full military acceleration,” Steph confirmed from where he was running navigation vector calculations. “We’ll be underway in two minutes.”
Eric didn’t bother saying anything more. He knew that the squadron would be moving out in two or less, and that was good enough. The computers were still decoding the raw data coming in from the system and would do so for as long as they let them. There was too much data in a star system for even the Odysseus to crunch through in any reasonable time.
He was mostly interested in the area immediately around the high-energy discharges, and that was where the most CPU cycles were dedicated at the moment. Eric also checked to make sure that they weren’t completely ignoring the rest of the system. Surprises could come out of the black easily enough.
“I’m seeing multiple laser blooms across . . . thirty seconds, at least?” Eric said to Heath, nodding to the combat map that was slowly taking form. “Has to be a couple dozen ships involved.”
“More than that, sir,” Heath said without taking her eyes off the floating display. “We’re looking at, at least, a full battle squadron going up against . . . I’m not sure, but I’d say a strong squadron.”
“Which side is on the shi
t end, do you suppose?” he asked quietly.
“Do you really need to ask?”
Eric grimaced, but no, he really didn’t need to ask.
“Well, they’ll know we’re here long before we can get close,” he decided. “So once the Rogues get nice and deep, I want to announce our presence . . . in style.”
“Full system ping?”
Eric gestured with his right hand. “And fly our colors.”
Heath tilted her head slightly before nodding in his direction. “That’s bold, Skipper,” she said. “No fade and strike guerilla games?”
He snorted. “In a Heroic? No, we’ll take the lead and leave that to the Rogues. I’ve said it before, Commander, and I’ll probably say it again many times. We are not carrier task force. The Odysseus and other Heroics are battleships. We’re going to fight them like battleships. Run our guns down the enemy’s teeth and see how they like the taste of fire.”
She nodded slowly. “They’re going to have us on numbers, sir.”
“They’re going to need them.”
► As the three Heroic Class slips formed a delta wedge and began warping space downwell, their six accompanying Rogue Class ships fanned out and went dark as their armor shifted to black hole energy absorption settings.
On board the William H. Bonney, Captain Sheila McGavin settled into her station and stared at the plot that was forming from her ship’s computers instead of from the Heroics’ feed. The fighting in system was big and loud enough in terms of energy discharges, and there was no doubt about what was going on. But she was still aching for more intelligence than they were likely to get.
In the last encounter with these bastards, Sheila was well aware that the Hood had been cut in half by enemy fire. Much of the crew had been evacuated, thankfully, but she’d rather not see her Bonny turned to scrap on her first command.
“Helm, I have a vector coming your way,” Sheila said. “We’re going to come in from under the elliptic. Confirm receipt.”
