Jenny tapped her console, bringing up the live feed. It was odd - or at least against galactic regulations - for a ship to drop into FTL in the middle of a system. She’d never been sure why. But now ... it was odd. And it was the first major fleet movement they’d seen since she’d moved the squadron into Daladier. The other Galactics back at Hudson were too busy arguing over what to do ...
Pity, she thought, as she contemplated the situation. We could have used some back-up - or even a strong neutral force sitting on top of the gravity point.
“This could be them,” Lieutenant Dennis said. “We have to go to their aid.”
Jenny was inclined to agree, but there were other considerations. Her squadron was formidable - she knew she commanded the deadliest force in the sector - yet it was badly outnumbered. If the Harmonies were trying to lure them out of position - she assumed they knew she’d taken the squadron to Daladier - they might manage to block her retreat, forcing her to choose between a desperate engagement or a long trip back to base. Worse, there was no way to know what was truly going on. Any message from Odyssey, assuming there was a message from Odyssey, would take hours to reach them. By then, the affair might already be over ...
She tapped her console. It was a gamble, but one she had to take. Besides, Hudson Base had already been shut down. Abandoning the system wouldn't look good on her resume - her lips twitched at the thought - but her superiors understood the tactical realities. If the Galactics wanted to chase her out of the system, they’d chase her out of the system. There was nothing to be gained by expending her squadron in a pointless engagement.
“Helm, take us towards the Chalmers Point,” she ordered. “Best possible speed.”
“Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Heinrich said.
Jenny leaned back in her chair as the drives powered up, preparing to hurl the squadron into FTL. She was blind and she hated that, but at least she was doing something. The last week had been more than a little frustrating. None of the Galactics, it seemed, were truly prepared for war. The Harmonies, damn them to hell, might get away with everything they’d done.
And galactic society plunges into chaos, she thought, morbidly. Who knows what will happen then?
***
“Enemy ships are falling into a search pattern,” Callaway reported. “They’re advancing out from the gravity point.”
He paused. “They’re also leaving two battleships to cover the gravity point itself.”
“They probably expect us to try to double back,” Elton said. It would have been reassuring, in a way, if he hadn't known the end could not be long delayed. Popping back through the gravity point would merely expose them to the enemy fortresses. “Can you calculate their search trajectories?”
“Yes, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton sucked in his breath as red cones of light appeared on the display. At least two enemy ships would pass within detection range ... and the bastards knew they needed to investigate every random energy pulse within the area. It was possible, he supposed, that they could use ECM drones to force the enemy to waste time, but there was no way he could get Odyssey clean away before it was too late. The enemy would simply fire on every stray flicker of energy, confirming - to their own satisfaction - that it was nothing more than a drone before resuming the search.
“Deploy the remaining drones,” he ordered. Maybe it was a waste of effort, but he could at least try to spite them. “Program them to pose as cloaked ships.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
“And adjust our vector,” Elton added. “Cut across the search cone rather than trying to outrun it.”
“Aye, Captain,” Marie said.
Elton made a face as Odyssey slowly altered course. She’d never been the most nimble of starships, but now ... she handled worse than a wallowing bulk freighter. The damage control teams were struggling to get the FTL drive back online, yet ... Elton didn't need Wolf’s grim updates to know that they just didn't have the time. The drive nodes would have to be completely replaced before Odyssey slipped back into FTL.
“Captain, we received an update from the drones,” Callaway said. “Nine more ships just popped through the gravity point. They’re joining the search party.”
Shit, Elton thought. The new projections made it clear that they were trapped. Maybe - just maybe - they could have evaded the original hunters, but the newcomers expanded the search cones to trap Odyssey. They’d probably already projected just how far the human starship could move before it was too late. Hell, they’d probably overestimated it. They couldn't know just how badly Odyssey had been damaged.
He closed his eyes for a long moment. Forty-seven enemy ships, eight of them battleships ... they were doomed. Even if they smashed the first enemy ship that found them, the remainder would blast Odyssey into space dust. The only consolation was that the Harmonies had no reasonable excuse for sending so many ships into the system. Who knew? Maybe the other Galactics would make them pay.
Sure, he thought, sardonically. And perhaps the horse will learn to sing.
“They’re angling four destroyers towards us,” Callaway said. “They’ll pass within detection range in nine minutes.”
Unless we’re leaking, Elton thought. The cloaking device hadn't been designed for a human ship, let alone built to human specifications. Odyssey might well be radiating an energy signature despite the cloak. His sensors were so badly battered that he had no way to find out. They might already know where we are.
“Keep us angled away from them,” he ordered, grimly. “And prepare to engage.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. “Standard missiles only?”
“Yes,” Elton said. Four destroyers ... even bruised and battered, they could handle four destroyers. It was their bigger brothers he was worried about. “Reserve the Hammers for the battleships.”
Another red icon flashed up on the display. Gravimetric sensors had gone offline. Elton reached for the console to order Wolf to focus on repairing them, then dismissed the thought in some irritation. It didn't matter any longer. The Harmonies had more than enough ships within engagement range to finish the job.
“Picking up a wide-band signal,” Grave reported. “They’re inviting us to surrender.”
“No response,” Elton ordered, sharply. They’d either die quickly or die slowly - they’d still be dead. He had no reason to believe the Harmonies would treat them as POWs. “Tactical?”
“They’re starting to close in,” Callaway said. “They’ll definitely have us in seven minutes.”
And they may pick us up before then, Elton thought. Ideally, the enemy ships would move closer - much closer - before detecting Odyssey. If he fired from such short range, there would be a very good chance of blowing all four destroyers away before they managed to return fire. But he knew he couldn't count on it. They’ll be watching for us.
“Lock missiles on their hulls,” he ordered. There was no point in trying to be clever, not now. Disabling an enemy ship was pointless when there were nearly fifty others in the vicinity. “Prepare to engage.”
He braced himself as the red icons glided closer. It was obvious the Harmonies didn't know precisely where they were - unless they were trying to lull him into a false sense of security - but they definitely had a rough idea. Their search pattern was crude and over-complex, yet it would work. No doubt they’d practiced the technique extensively. Hunting down a cloaked ship, particularly one that had sneaked too close to one’s defences, was an important military skill.
Just like hunting submarines, he thought. One of his ancestors had been on HMS Conqueror when she’d become the first nuclear-powered submarine to fire her torpedoes at an enemy ship. He wondered, absently, if his long-dead ancestor would have approved of his conduct under fire. And if they manage to get a solid lock on us before we raise our shields, we’re dead.
“Three minutes to certain detection,” Callaway said. “Missiles locked ...”
“Fire at thirty secon
ds from detection,” Elton ordered. It was a gamble - the enemy might be kind enough to come closer - but it balanced the opportunity to inflict major damage with the increasing certainty of eventual detection. “Don’t wait for orders, just fire.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton allowed himself a moment to look around the bridge. His crew had been largely untried, when they’d left Earth, but they’d acquitted themselves well. He was more proud of them than he could say. But ... none of them were going to survive the coming battle. He knew that as surely as he knew his name. The Solar Union would never know what had happened to them. They wouldn't even be sure that Odyssey had been the first casualty in a renewed war.
I’m sorry, he thought.
“Two minutes,” Callaway said. He paused. “They’re slowing ... they may have us.”
Elton didn't hesitate. “Fire!”
Odyssey jerked as she flushed her missile tubes. They weren't at optimum firing range, but they were still close enough to give the enemy a nasty fright. The destroyers rotated, as if their commanders were torn between firing back and trying to get out of range before it was too late ... their shields snapped into position, a handful of seconds before the missiles struck their targets. It wasn't enough to save them. Three destroyers were blown out of space and a fourth lost power, her hull bleeding plasma and air as she drifted out of position ...
“Target Three is apparently powerless,” Callaway reported. “Should I finish her?”
“No,” Elton said, after a moment. “Hold fire.”
He studied the enemy ship on the display, thinking fast. Could he afford to leave the damaged ship intact? Perhaps it was a trick, although he doubted any human or alien crew could shut everything down so quickly, let alone start venting on cue. No, the destroyer was out of commission for the foreseeable future. The Harmonies would probably scrap her, even though there was a universal shortage of ships. Building a replacement destroyer would be cheaper than repairing her.
“Captain,” Callaway said. “The enemy battleships are moving onto an attack vector.”
Elton nodded. “Helm, keep us moving,” he ordered. A stern chase would normally be a long one, but Odyssey’s drives were too badly damaged to keep them going for long. “And prepare to bring us about on my command.”
He forced himself to watch as the assorted vectors shook out into a brutally simple equation with only one answer. The enemy ships, moving faster than Odyssey, would catch up with her in less than ten minutes. Perhaps sooner, if they risked sending some of their battleships ahead in FTL. Navigation would be a pain, but it wasn't as if there was any real chance of losing their quarry. And once they were in firing range, they’d open fire and pound Odyssey to scrap. Hell, if they knew how badly Odyssey’s point defence had been weakened, they’d close the range as much as possible.
“Widen the sensors as much as possible,” he ordered. “Configure two shuttles as makeshift drones, then launch them ahead of us.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. He hesitated. “Sir, that will take at least ten minutes ...”
Under ideal conditions, Elton thought.
He kicked himself, mentally. He should have thought of it ... why hadn't he thought of redeploying the shuttles earlier? Because the beancounters would have thrown a fit if they’d learned he’d casually launched two shuttles into a maelstrom rather than using a - relatively - cheaper drone. Not that it mattered, part of his mind insisted. Odyssey was more expensive than all of her shuttles and drones put together and she was about to be blown out of space.
“Get the crews working on it,” he ordered. “And deploy them as soon as possible.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Elton nodded. It was a pity the shuttles weren't heavily armed or he would have deployed them as point defence platforms. Even the marine shuttles weren't configured for shooting down incoming missiles. He made a mental note to raise the issue with the procurement board, then dismissed the thought. There was no hope of getting home, let alone convincing the navy to reconfigure its entire fleet of shuttles.
New red icons flashed into existence. “Sir,” Callaway said. “The drones picked up a new wave of ships dropping out of FTL. Arrival vectors suggest that they came directly from the Parana Point.”
“Ah,” Elton said. Oddly, he felt like laughing. The odds had been insurmountable before the enemy reinforcements had arrived. “Ship count?”
“Thirty-seven battleships, nineteen battlecruisers, seventy smaller ships,” Callaway said. He looked up. “They can't get away now.”
“It will be harder to miss,” Elton agreed. A low chuckle ran around the bridge. “And if they want to waste time bunching up, let them.”
He sobered as the display kept updating. The enemy reinforcements were already altering course, coming about to give chase. There was no doubt, now, that the Harmonies were pissed. They’d sent enough firepower to give Sol a very bad day after a single badly-damaged starship. He wondered, absently, if there was anyone watching the engagement from a safe distance. The Harmonies might not recover from the damage to their reputation, after the entire galaxy had watched them crush Odyssey with overwhelming force.
It might not matter, he thought. They’re still one of the biggest kids on the block.
“They’re not bunching up,” Callaway reported. “Force One will be within engagement range in five minutes. Force Two will be within engagement range in twelve minutes.”
“Understood,” Elton said. Time had run out. There were no more clever tricks ... nothing, but certain death. “Helm, bring us about. Take us right down their throats.”
“Aye, sir,” Marie said.
Elton felt his ship trembling as she - slowly, very slowly - came about. Her hull was creaking alarmingly, suggesting that she’d taken structural damage. Humanity had learnt a great deal about building starships over the past fifty years, but ... there were limits. Odyssey needed months, perhaps years, in the yards before she could return to active service. She might even be scrapped, if she somehow got back home ...
“Firing range in three minutes, Captain,” Callaway said. “They’re reducing speed.”
“Probably wondering what trick we have up our sleeve this time,” Elton said. “Prepare to open fire.”
He paused. “Target our remaining Hammers on their battleships,” he added. “And fire a salvo of standard missiles too.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. His fingers danced over the console. “Missiles ready ...”
“Fire as soon as we enter firing range,” Elton ordered.
He gritted his teeth as the enemy ships came closer. Their formation was different, somehow ... they’d spread out their destroyers and frigates, even though that made them vulnerable to his fire. He puzzled over it for a long moment, then realised that it was their first true attempt at an anti-Hammer formation. The Hammers wouldn't be wasted on the smaller ships, allowing them a chance to engage the missiles from behind.
And they could trade a hundred destroyers for us and still come out ahead, he thought.
“Firing,” Callaway said.
The enemy fired at the same moment, belching hundreds - thousands - of missiles towards Odyssey. It was overkill, massive overkill ... it was, he supposed, a compliment of sorts, a droll admission that Odyssey had run rings around them. Elton looked at the display and saw death, advancing steadily towards them. Even the prospect of killing three - perhaps four - battleships failed to please him. If Odyssey survived the first salvo, the surviving battleships would finish the job.
“Point defence online,” Callaway said. “ECM active ...”
Elton nodded, shortly. It didn't matter. There was no way they could stop enough of the missiles to save themselves. And even if they did, there were plenty more missiles just waiting to be fired at them.
“Fire at will,” he ordered.
The first Hammer vanished, picked off by one of the enemy destroyers; the remaining Hammers
plunged into their targets, vaporising them with contemptuous ease. But the Harmonies kept coming ... either they knew Odyssey had shot herself dry or they no longer cared. Their missiles were closing in ...
“It’s been a honour,” Elton said, quietly.
Callaway started. “Captain!”
The display flared with new icons, behind them. Elton stared ... new enemy ships? It wasn't just overkill ... it was more than overkill. Odyssey was doomed. He fought down an insane urge to giggle as the sensors struggled to cope with the sudden influx of data. The Harmonies had brought over a hundred ships to crush a lone starship ...
“Picking up IFF transmissions,” Grave said. “Captain, they’re friendly!”
Elton spun around. “What?”
“They’re the Hudson Squadron,” Grave said. On the display, the newcomers had already begun to engage the missile storm. “We’re saved!”
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 40
