by Blaze Ward
Thief in the night.
CP-406 and Ballard had spent nearly a week on their silent stalk and returned safely to her laager, hiding two and a half light years away.
Jessica took a breath and checked that Enej was ready. Without Casey, he was back to doing all the main work, which he occasionally bitched about. She still teased him about it, but not today. Serious business was at hand.
She pressed a button to bring everyone live. Additionally, she began projecting the map that a week of passive scanning from various locations had gathered; washed, filtered, and cataloged by Elzbet Aukley and her team of experts. They were working on a tight network of lasers between ships, but would be long gone before even the reflecting signals might give something away.
“What you are seeing might be classified as ancient Rome, just before the first of the barbarian tribes from the north crossed the Rubicon,” Jessica began. “I won’t invoke Caesar crossing that river, because we aren’t here to conquer Rome or rescue it. We are here to destroy it. To break the empire of Buran, The Eldest, the so-called Lord of Winter. Our role is Hannibal, hoping they have no one like the Scipios. Up until now, we have been sparring with his legions at the borders, fortifications erected to keep our kind at bay. Today, we begin the campaign for his heartland in earnest.”
She paused there, rotating the map a touch and zooming it. She missed having Moirrey, right now. Saana and Elzbet were exceptional technicians, but they wouldn’t have been able to find the perfect soundtrack to play with the projections. Music would have been nice.
Jessica made a note to locate a crewmember with talent at musical composition and add them to the informal Art Department down in Engineering. Or recruit one specifically for the purpose. She was the Red Admiral, the Fleet Centurion, and the Queen of the Pirates. She could do those sorts of things and it just enhanced her legend.
“Severnaya Zemlya,” Jessica said as the planet took shape. “Capital world of the Altai Sector. According to Seeker, a major manufacturing hub and fleet repair facility for Buran. We got to our observation point at the edge of the system faster than any news could have outrun us, since it had to come via human-piloted vessel using JumpDrives, while we could sail full tilt. We were able to spot our messenger when it arrived, blurting out its news to anyone with a radio, about how the terrible dragon Red Admiral had destroyed Yenisei.”
She advanced the projection that Ballard had been able to scan, once they knew the clock had started. In the air above her, a vessel suddenly blinked out of existence in planetary orbit and reappeared next to the freighter bearing bad news.
“We don’t fully know what a Megalodon-class battleship is yet,” Jessica said. “They are new and are replacing the older Carcharias-class. There was one at St. Legier, so we have some idea about their weapons, but he didn’t get close enough to anyone for us to get a hard scan. That ship was a response to the Expeditionary Cruisers Yan Bedrov designed, so it is probably comparable to Vanguard. We know they are using a new version of the Pulse Beams that are roughly equal to a Type-3. This one has an extended range, but the same general damage. Think Moirrey’s Type-3-Tuned, without losing the focus at that range.”
A flag on her screen indicated a question.
“Hardie?” Jessica asked Robbie’s Tactical Officer as she paused.
“Carcharias has three Hammerheads as secondaries,” the woman said. “Am I right in counting six on this design?”
“You are,” Jessica replied. “This hull is almost as big as the Nightmaster we fought at Trusski, for length and probable displacement. But it is more a pure battleship, with a team of lighter escorts, rather than the heavier Makos. Now watch what happens.”
Jessica resumed the video. The Megalodon rotated to face galactic north and vanished.
Around her, Jessica heard the murmurs, curses, and cheers from the men and women watching.
“As many of you have guessed, we think that ship immediately departed,” Jessica continued. “Either to support Yenisei, or reinforce Ninagirsu. It won’t matter to us, because they aren’t here. What’s left are three Mako-class vessels, and three Hammerheads, plus one massive orbital station.”
She zoomed now on the station, the thing Buran called a Chéngbǎo, or Castle. It wasn’t a starbase, which was a pure military platform for naval operations. Nor was it an industrial station, but a facility that incorporated elements of both. As such, it was bigger than even Fleet Headquarters orbiting Ladaux, but no better armed, if Seeker’s notes were accurate. Possibly not even as well.
“Like all good, defensive structures, this one sits down below the line of the gravity well as JumpSails consider it,” Jessica said. “Buran’s JumpDrives use an older technology, and one not limited so much by gravity, so it doesn’t matter to them. This is purely for our detriment.”
She paused long enough to locate the sealed mug of coffee Marcelle had delivered earlier, half-forgotten, and sipped a bit, letting the warmth spread through her.
“In the past, such a fortification would have been impregnable,” Jessica continued. “Even tuned for range, the Type-3 beam hits no harder than a kitten at the distance of the gravity well edge. Even coming out of jump at full tilt would still give them nearly thirty seconds to notice you and bring their power absorbers to maximum defense. That is an acceptable trade for The Eldest to make. And it has stopped Fribourg at Samara, because any vessels trying it would find themselves surrounded by the defensive fleet maintained there. It would be a wild dog attacking a herd of elk. You might wound one, but the rest would gore and stomp you to death before you could escape.”
Through the projection, Jessica watched every face in front of her, each watching with the same rapt concentration. Not fascinated, but busy trying to calculate the best way forward. If Jessica had found a path, there must be one. She nearly laughed, but she had seen this too many other times.
The mark of the warrior.
She let the pause build.
“Comrades, I have studied Emmerich’s records on the topic, and found something he never tried,” she finally admitted. “But he also didn’t have the tools we do. The capabilities. II Augusta will lead the charge.”
She spotted Tamara Strnad and her top officers by the way they all recoiled in surprise: Tactical Officer Kichirou Uzun; Flight Deck Commander Ryanne Mauld; and Augustin Petrović, Merman. Interestingly, it was Uzun’s flag that turned red first.
“Senior Centurion Uzun?” Jessica prodded.
“Are we hot-launching the wing before we make our run, or in the middle of it?” he asked.
Spoken like a Strike Carrier officer. Some of the craziest people in the fleet, to charge into combat in a weakly-armed carrier, just to force the enemy to either divide fire between you and the flight wing, or ignore one completely and hope that decision didn’t kill you.
If II Augusta had any advantage there, it lay in being built on the same massively-overpowered frame as the cruisers, without the bigger guns. She could reinforce facing shields and generate ECM on a far greater scale, and still keep the Type-3 beams firing as fast they charged and cooled.
“Neither,” Jessica grinned as everyone got confused. Why else lead with a strike carrier? “We’ll rendezvous first at distance of around fifteen AU out and form into our assault pattern there. Then drop the entire squadron out at a distance of six light minutes. That gives you four minutes to launch the wing and get them formed up and moving. They’ll jump as a separate team and strike the base directly from jump, hopefully catching him cold just as the rest of us come out of jump running as hard as we can, firing into the gaps Merman’s team has hopefully blasted in their defensive panels. What’s your team’s best launch, Merman?”
“Three minutes, forty,” he said. “Average four minutes, ten.”
“There you have it,” Jessica said. “They’ll fire and blink out, just as the defenders wake up to them.”
Denis’s flag lit next.
“You said lines, Jessica,” he said
. “As opposed to line, singular?”
“That’s correct, Denis,” she replied. “II Augusta in the center, led by CA-264 and CP-406, trailed in turn by Vanguard. CM-404 and VI Ferrata on the starboard wing. CS-405 leading VI Victrix to port. 401, 402, and 403 across the back, with Ballard remaining well off to one side quietly watching and not participating.”
“Preparing for our second run?” Denis asked. “After we loop around the back of the planet and come at him again?”
“Nope,” Jessica grinned. “This is where most commanders would get greedy or stupid. I’m confident we can do significant damage to that base on one surprise pass. Maybe enough to make a second run worth considering. We’re not going to even bother unless somehow we manage to get the sort of lucky kill shot that triggers secondary and tertiary explosions as reactors start to cascade inside. No, instead of looping, we’ll blast hard and straight out the back, form up in a traditional line, and come to 015/022/0 and go for max burn.”
For that sort of thing, Denis was always the best astrogator she had ever served with. She watched him mouth the numbers, seeking their significance, before his eyes got big.
“Winterhome?” he gasped.
The murmurs exploded across the comm line. Jessica waited for them to die down before she spoke.
“As far as they know, yes, Winterhome,” she said. “Their capital world. Let me be clear: I have no intention of actually going there on this run. We’ll transition to JumpSpace and then loop down and port to our meeting point for the run home to Omicron. However, they won’t know that. Their ships have to point in the direction they are jumping, so people will see our bows and draw the same conclusion.”
“Second star to the right and straight on until morning,” Denis quoted with wonder in his voice.
“Just so,” she replied. “What will The Eldest’s servants on Severnaya Zemlya do?”
“Panic,” Denis said. “Possibly wet themselves if we’ve just killed a Starbase in passing.”
“Correct,” she said. “As I have reminded you in the past, for many of these battles, we can’t win the war in an afternoon, but we could lose it with the risks we take. This will be an even bigger risk, but we’re not conquerors. This is Second 2218 Svati Prime. This is a pack of foxes in the henhouse, and then gone. We won’t stay, we won’t slug it out, regardless of the temptation. We’re going to look like we’re going after Winterhome next. And make them worry. Any other questions?”
There were none. She had answered the important ones. The rest were maneuver orders and timing, and they would expect those soon. They were prepared.
“In twelve hours, we’ll transition to JumpSpace and begin our attack run. Duncan will meet us at the next waypoint with supplies, but he’s leaving shortly, so stock up if you have needs now.”
She cut the line and stretched. While it might be her most audacious surprise ever… No, strike that, yet; it wasn’t all that great a risk, compared to some of the others. In, out, and gone.
But she really wished she could go after Winterhome itself. Gather up all of the Empire’s Grand Fleet, throw in elements of Aquitaine’s Home and War Fleets, and throw them at the beast. Then go hunt down every Sentient warship they could find and kill it, until there were none left anywhere in the galaxy and Suvi really was the Last of the Immortals.
Severnaya Zemlya would have to do for now.
Until the tide came in for the last time.
Chapter LV
Date of the Republic Apr 02, 402 IFV Vanguard, Severnaya Zemlya
As galactic speeds went, Vanguard was a sluggard right now, even with the engines running wide open at the redline of safety and pushing the warhorse hard. Still, Jessica felt the same sort of adrenaline she got when Marcelle wanted to push the margins while driving, or any landing from orbit with Gaucho flying.
Going all in.
And blind, to top it off.
Merman’s Flight Wing had managed three minutes, fifty-six to get all twelve Fast Strike Bombers clear of the lockshields and formed up with acceleration. Still ahead of schedule when they blinked out of existence for their rendezvous with destiny, or at least history, as the first time the JumpDrive element of Bedrov’s design got used as he intended: leaping into battle, rather than chasing someone trying to get away.
Doing to Buran what they always did to everyone else.
Vanguard would be in the middle of the formation, more or less. Every vessel had a different engine signature, and different tolerances, so the level of fine tuning on the sails would determine how far down the edge of the well was finally enough that the matrix failed and they came back to RealSpace.
Everyone would miss the planet on their trajectories, but it was entirely possible that Vanguard might come out last, with the newest engines and, as far as Jessica was concerned, the best engineers in the fleet under Oz, even without Moirrey’s magic. That might put them closest to the base when they came out.
One could only hope.
She watched the timer click down to the normally-expected edge of the gravity well, according to Ballard’s charts. This was where things got weird. The trigger on the sail matrix was a zone, not a line. A probability curve, until the engineers couldn’t hold it together any more. Robbie, Alber’, and Kigali had gotten to be masters at that sort of maneuver, but Vanguard was newer, with a design that had been tweaked after Yan had seen what those boys could do.
And Denis might push a little harder, having had to miss so many parties when he commanded a mere Star Controller. She laughed to herself at the comparison, but maintained the outward sternness for her flag bridge crew. Fleet Centurions weren’t supposed to laugh out loud during battles.
Sane ones, anyway. Let’s not give them questions.
The screen showed the ships cross the high water mark and keep going without transition. Every instant now was distance cut off her attack.
There. Transition. RealSpace. Denis and Oz had managed the impossible. Vanguard was there in the van, everyone else having come out as much as a half-second earlier, from the scattering of their previous orderly lines.
Again, Fribourg would order everyone back into some formation now, just because escorts were supposed to be protecting capital ships and cruisers. But there were hardly any missiles here, and no fighters. Just ships that could land anywhere they wanted at any time, to savage whatever vessel was their target.
And Buran would be expecting a few moments of chaos on the Imperial side as orders from stupid admirals wasted time on pretty lines. It would give the sharks time to react.
Jessica just had time to see the last of Merman’s strike team vanish into their second jump. The fast bombers didn’t have missile racks, relying solely on beams, but they had a JumpDrive and enough batteries for two jumps before recharging.
In. Hit. Fade. Thinking like a pirate. Bedrov’s forte. They would go to ground now, recharging out in the darkness so they could make it to the next checkpoint and their ride home. But they had accomplished their task, that much was obvious. Power Absorber panels that failed at low power couldn’t be raised to full defense until they were repaired, which might take minutes.
Minutes that station didn’t have, as the blue-painted Picts came over Hadrian’s Wall, howling for blood.
The Bubble Guns on VI Ferrata and VI Victrix took a blink of time to track, implode, and immolate. Slow enough that a human could follow it. The beams always hit first.
Moirrey had envisioned the Bubble Gun as a way to damage all shield facings simultaneously, so that an enemy vessel couldn’t turn a damaged shield away from you for a full one. Power absorber panels normally took the incoming energy and captured it so that it could be bled off to batteries to be fired back, but that took time. And the panels held more power than the batteries. If you filled them, there was nowhere for the power to go, for several, precious seconds, perhaps as much as a minute.
If only one panel was full, the commander over there could route power to an empty panel on t
he far side of the vessel quickly, adding layers of security as he did.
Bubble Guns filled all the panels at the same time. There was nowhere for the energy to go. And they would still hit gaps in the defensive array. VI Ferrata was in line with the gap the bombers had blasted, but VI Victrix was too far off to one side.
Not that Alber’ would care. Nor Komal MacInerney, his tactical Goddess of War.
And everyone was firing as fast as they could cycle. Vanguard pinged and bumped as beams fired and the Bubble Gun erupted. Jessica felt the ship groan as Nina cut the engines and actually began to yaw a Heavy Dreadnaught on her flat axis, torqueing on all those extra gyros that the design came with, twice what a normal dreadnaught or battleship carried.
Because crazy people are the most dangerous warriors, and Jessica had a whole fleet full of them. Her people.
More fire from the port-side beams and turret as Laura came back to bear suddenly. Eight Type-4 beams outbound from her squadron. Depending on damage to the station and how she lay in relation to the attackers, up to eight inbound. Her team had one target. The Sentience on the station had one big target, three cruisers, and a swarm of corvettes to pick from. Hopefully, he was dumb enough to spread out his fire.
Vanguard could resist Type-4’s longer than anyone else, unless Tamara slowed her rate of fire to keep everything in shields. Looking at her readout, Jessica could tell II Augusta wasn’t conservative with her fire, but not putting everything on the line, either. Enough to keep the station honest, and hopefully still make it out to pick up her flight wing. The pilots could be rescued without the carrier, but the ships would be lost without their base.
Flag bridge lights flickered, and then failed, but only for a second, before emergency lighting came on.
“Enej?” Jessica called.
“Working,” he said, furiously punching buttons and scrolling. “I think we’ve pissed them off, boss. He’s concentrating fire on us with the big guns, and firing the lighter stuff at corvettes. Seems to be ignoring the cruisers completely.”
