“You cannot escape,” the alien said, flatly. She was surprised he didn't say resistance is futile. “You will be destroyed.”
“We shall see,” Rebecca said.
She sent a single command to the cabin’s processor. The alien’s face vanished. She smiled, then poured herself a drink and sat back in the chair to wait as the noise of the ship’s engines grew louder. There were only two options. Either they’d make it out or they’d be dead in the next few minutes. One way or the other, she wouldn't have to pretend to be polite to them any longer.
And maybe if I fall asleep, she told herself, I might just sleep through all the excitement.
She shook her head. She knew that wasn't going to happen.
Chapter Nineteen
I cannot believe that anyone would argue that, not seriously.
The Tokomak do not lose. The Tokomak DID not lose ... until the day they did. This is not a small defeat, even if we didn't take out a percentage point of a percentage point of their mobile firepower. We gave their reputation for invincibility a black eye. There is no way they will allow us to slip back into obscurity. They have to smash us flat before we give others ideas. Even the proof the bastards can be beaten - alone - will cripple their power.
-Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).
“Enemy fortresses are bringing up tactical sensors,” Callaway reported. “Captain?”
“Activate drones,” Elton ordered. “And then start spoofing their sensors.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. “Drones going active ... now.”
Elton nodded, grimly. If they were lucky - if the Harmonies hadn't improved their sensor suites - they should have problems localising Odyssey and her charges. But if they were wrong ... he pushed the thought out of his head. They’d been committed, even if they hadn't realised it, the moment they passed through the gravity points. All that mattered now was escape.
“Bring up the drive field,” he ordered. The enemy sensors were definitely having problems locking onto their ships. “And take us out of orbit.”
“Aye, Captain,” Marie said. “Moving ... now.”
“The freighters are falling in behind us,” Biscoe put in. “I’ve got the drones shadowing them too.”
“Tell them to stay close,” Elton ordered. “We won’t be able to go back for any stragglers.”
He took a breath as the enemy sensor sweeps glided closer. “And stand by point defence.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton gripped his chair, bracing himself. The Harmonies knew they’d never be able to take Odyssey intact, not now. Their only priority was destroying his ship before they could escape and warn the Solar Union. When would they open fire? It would be safe enough in a few minutes, when Odyssey was no longer between the orbital battlestations and a very vulnerable planet ...
“They’re launching gunboats, Captain,” Callaway snapped. New icons flashed to life on the display. “And I’m picking up starships decloaking in high orbit.”
“Understood,” Elton said. It was a race now. They’d be in the danger zone within sixty seconds, perhaps less. “Engage the gunboats as soon as they enter range.”
He gritted his teeth as the gunboats came closer, their sensors sweeping space for human targets. The enemy CO hadn't made a bad call. An individual gunboat wouldn't be much of a threat, but collectively ... if they blasted the drive section, Odyssey would be trapped, helplessly dead in space. No doubt someone would whine that he’d fired the first shot, yet ... he shrugged. They were well past that stage now.
“Enemy gunboats entering phaser range,” Callaway reported.
“Fire at will,” Elton ordered.
The first wave of gunboats didn’t realise, part of his mind noted, just how effective human phasers had become over the past fifty years. For better or worse, they were about to find out. Phaser bursts flashed from Odyssey’s arrays, each one striking a gunboat and vaporising it. The second wave hastily went into a series of evasive manoeuvres, spinning madly through space and dodging bolt after bolt as they tried to get closer to Odyssey’s hull. Elton’s point defence computers, primed to deal with smaller and faster targets, updated their targeting programs and continued to fire. More gunboats vanished from the display before they had a chance to get into firing range.
“The remaining gunboats are entering their attack run,” Callaway snapped. “Point defence systems are engaging ...”
“Deploy a second flight of drones,” Elton ordered. The gunboats had been cut down sharply - he doubted they could do real damage, unless they were armed with antimatter warheads - but they could still help the fortresses to target his ships. “Prepare to take incoming fire ...”
“They’re angling the gunboats towards the freighters,” Biscoe put in. “But the freighters can take care of themselves.”
“Not enough,” Elton said. He cursed under his breath. The freighters were barely armed with popguns. They might be able to ward off a gunboat, but not a true warship. In hindsight, they shouldn’t have brought them. “Can you hit the gunboats?”
“Not unless we reverse course,” Callaway said.
Elton cursed, again. He was an officer in the Solar Navy. Defending humanity’s trade was one of his duties. But if he reversed course, he risked losing everything ... for one ship and her crew. He knew he couldn't take the risk, even though he’d hate himself later.
“Continue on our current course,” he ordered.
“Hilton has been destroyed with all hands,” Biscoe reported. There was no condemnation in his voice. Somehow, that made it worse. “Frankfurter has taken damage, but her drives remain intact.”
“Understood,” Elton said. He’d mourn later, he promised himself. “Keep alert for an opportunity to evacuate Frankfurter.”
“Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.
Elton heard the doubt in his voice, even though it wasn't expressed. And he was right. It was unlikely, vanishingly unlikely, that they’d have a chance to teleport Frankfurter’s crew to safety. Even the relatively light bursts of phaser fire they’d exchanged would be enough to disrupt a teleport beam. The crew might be safer on their damaged ship.
The last of the gunboats fell back as Odyssey raced onwards, clearly unwilling to push the offensive into the teeth of her fire. Elton wasn't reassured. The gunboats hadn't even managed to scratch his paint, but they had forced him to reveal too much about his weapons and defences. He had no doubt that the fortresses were already adjusting their targeting patterns to compensate, now they knew what he could do. A few minor modifications and they’d give him a whole series of black eyes.
And we’re entering the danger zone now, he thought, numbly. They can fire at will.
“They’re launching missiles,” Callaway reported. He sucked in his breath, sharply. “That’s overkill ...”
“As you were,” Elton said, quietly. It was overkill. There were so many missiles coming at them, from five different directions, that the display had given up trying to designate each of them with a separate icon. “Are the drones active?”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
“Then spread them out,” Elton ordered. “And bring up the full ECM fields now.”
He braced himself as the swarm of missiles came closer. It was enough missiles, even if they were nukes rather than antimatter warheads, to smash Odyssey to dust. No one would ever find a trace of her remains, if she was struck by over a thousand missiles. And yet ... and yet, a number were already being decoyed away, lured towards the ECM drones. He hoped, gripping his seat so hard it hurt, that the fortresses didn't have time to take control of the missiles manually and redirect them. The gunboats might still be close enough to see through the ECM.
“Missiles are entering engagement range,” Callaway said.
“Engage with point defence,” Elton ordered, shortly.
It was a gamble, but one he had to take. There was no way the drones could fire a single phaser bolt, let al
one match Odyssey’s point defence. The moment the point defence opened fire, the fortresses would know precisely which image was the real starship. And then ... they’d adjust their targeting projections and resume fire.
“I think we decoyed away two-thirds of the missiles,” Callaway said, as the icons swerved to follow the drones. “The remainder are being engaged ... now.”
Elton leaned forward as missiles started to disappear from the display, each one vanishing in a brilliant flash of energy. Antimatter warheads, then. It was a display of overkill unseen since the Tokomak had crushed one particularly annoying race by using antimatter to literally wipe out the entire system, even the gas giants. Perversely, it might just work in their favour. Each missile would - hopefully - take out several more missiles when it died. And, if they were very lucky, it would disrupt enemy sensors.
Or maybe not, he thought, as another wave of missiles flickered into existence. The fortresses had resumed fire, pouring missiles towards Odyssey at terrifying speed. They'd expend all their missiles at this rate, leaving the planet apparently undefended. They can still target us even through the haze ...
“Incoming,” Callaway snapped.
Elton hit his console. “Brace for impact,” he snapped. “All hands, brace for impact ...”
The starship shook, violently. Elton held on for dear life, staring at the main display as the shields struggled to cope with the impact. They’d taken the impact without failing, but he knew that wouldn’t last. Several more blows like that would be enough to do real damage as they burned out shield generators, leaving the hull bare. And then a single warhead would be enough to vaporise the entire ship.
“The second wave of drones are gone,” Callaway said. “Request permission to deploy a third.”
“Granted,” Elton said. The next wave of missiles was getting closer, even as the tiny convoy altered course to avoid it. “The freighters?”
“No further losses, so far,” Biscoe said. “Captain ...”
“I know,” Elton said. “That won’t last.”
Odyssey rocked, again. “Direct hit, port shields,” Callaway reported. “Shield Generators Three and Four have taken a beating, Shield Generator Five is gone.”
“Dispatch a damage control team,” Elton ordered.
“Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.
Elton gritted his teeth as another missile slammed into his shields. The enemy had found their range now, throwing hundreds of missiles into the killing zone in hopes of scoring a handful of hits. Odyssey’s point defence was burning dozens of missiles out of space, while others were being lured away, but the remainder kept boring in towards his ship. A handful even passed within touching distance of his shields before losing their missile locks and plunging on into empty space.
There’s going to be one hell of a clean-up bill after this, he thought, numbly. Luckily, we won’t have to pay it.
“They’re dispatching another wave of gunboats,” Callaway said. “I ...”
“Billy Butcher is gone,” Biscoe said. He cursed, savagely. “Frankfurter has been destroyed too.”
Seven left, Elton thought. He felt a bitter stab of guilt, mingled with grief for the freighter crews. They’d travelled tens of thousands of light-years to die. And every time one dies, it gets easier for the remaining missiles to target us.
“Target the gunboats with shipkillers and open fire,” he snapped. It was a waste, but he saw no alternative. The point defence had too many other targets to take out. “Try and angle some additional drones towards them.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton forced himself to take a step back and consider the situation. Odyssey was midway through the planetary defence network, twisting and turning to avoid coming into energy range of any of the orbital battlestations. They were still belching missiles, but with more caution ... he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Their tacticians could be busily trying to reprogram their missiles to compensate for humanity’s ECM. Elton’s lips twitched at the thought. If Jayne Fisher was right, if the Harmonies were still in league with the Tokomak, their masters hadn't bothered to share what they’d learned from the Battle of Earth.
Or they might have thought they had enough massed sensor power to burn through the ECM, he admitted, silently. The enemy wouldn't have been too far wrong, if they’d been challenging a proper warship. Odyssey was lousy with ECM projectors in hopes of avoiding a major confrontation. Given time, they’ll learn to compensate properly.
“Damage control teams have fixed Shield Four,” Biscoe reported quietly. The hull quivered again as a nuke struck the shields. Compared to the antimatter warheads and the tempest raging outside, it was barely noticeable. “Shield Five is beyond repair.”
And needs to be replaced, Elton finished. And doing that in the middle of an engagement may be impossible.
“Tell the teams to do what they can,” he ordered. “But right now it might be the least of our problems.”
“Understood,” Biscoe said.
“Incoming gunboats,” Callaway snapped. “They’re keeping their distance, right on the edge of point defence range ...”
“Stupid,” Williams muttered.
Elton took one look at the display and knew that Williams was wrong. “Target the gunboats and take them out,” he snapped. The tidal wave of missiles moving up behind the gunboats would be taking their targeting data from them. At that range, no ECM known to exist could fool their sensors. Odyssey could not leave those gunboats intact, even if it risked taking two or three more hits. “Fire!”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
“They’re evading,” Biscoe commented.
“Launch scatterpack missiles, targeted on the gunboats,” Elton ordered. It was another waste - and the beancounters would probably demand his hide when they got home - but cheaper than losing the entire ship. “Drive them back!”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton held himself calm as a dozen gunboats vanished from the display, followed by a cloud of missiles. Thankfully, the enemy were still hurling antimatter warheads at them. But the remainder closed in, even though Marie threw the ship into a dizzying spiral that should have convinced any missile to go seek easier prey. He braced himself as alarms howled through the hull, a moment later before the entire ship rang like a bell ...
“Starboard shield down,” Biscoe snapped. “Damage to sectors ...”
“Dispatch damage-control teams,” Elton ordered. A bare hull meant certain death, if the enemy managed to pop a missile through the gap. “Try to keep the exposed hull away from their fire!”
The ship shuddered, again. “Direct hit,” Biscoe reported. “Luckily, the prow shield held.”
“Lucia is gone,” Biscoe said. “Jackdaw has taken heavy damage ...”
Damn it, Elton thought. Odyssey wasn't in the best of shapes herself. If he’d been fighting a normal enemy, he would have offered to surrender. But the Harmonies couldn't afford word getting out. Even if they did manage to convince the other Galactics that they were the injured party, it still wouldn't look good. Elton knew, all too well, that his crew were doomed unless they made their escape soon. We’re in deep shit.
He forced himself to concentrate as they flew into a quiet patch of space. The enemy seemed to be regrouping, secure in the knowledge that Odyssey had to run another gauntlet before breaking out into interplanetary space. A second network of orbital battlestations waited for them, their sensors already locking onto the hull. It wouldn't be long before the gunboats came creeping back, ready to guide the missiles to their target ...
“They’ve adjusted Shield Nine,” Biscoe reported. “We have full shields again, but not for long.”
Elton nodded. Shield generators had their limits. The more space they had to cover, the weaker the shields would be. Perversely, incoming missiles couldn’t be used to drive wedges between the different generators, but there was enough firepower heading towards them that it hardly mattered
. They were doomed if they stayed where they were.
“Alter course,” he ordered. “Take us straight towards Target Nine.”
“Aye, Captain,” Marie said.
“Mr. Callaway, deploy the next set of drones,” Elton added. “And bring them online on my mark.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton leaned back in his chair as the next set of antimatter missiles flashed into existence on the display. The Harmonies had to be raging, given how much firepower they’d expended in the last seven minutes. He had a feeling that, whatever happened, there were going to be a few shakeups in orbit. The Harmonies had practically shot themselves dry trying to take out a single cruiser.
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 20
