Legacy Fleet: The Complete Trilogy

by Nick Webb

  “That’s the idea….”

  A moment later they cleared the plume and the violent shaking ceased, but Rodriguez maintained the gut-churning acceleration. A quick glance at the sensors told him the gambit had partially worked—the Swarm fighters trailing them were nowhere to be seen. Probably on the other side of the massive debris plume by now.

  But ahead of them loomed a new nightmare.

  The Swarm super dreadnought, flanked by two regular-sized carriers. Green antimatter beams lanced down toward the planet, raking across towns and smaller cities, even as a half dozen bright points shimmered around the giant ships—growing singularities readying for their imminent launch.

  “We’re screwed,” breathed the pilot.

  An odd reading on the sensors. Rodriguez studied the anomaly. A large mass approaching at a dizzying speed. No, not one large mass. It was broken up into several discreet pieces, approaching as one large clump. Had one of the Swarm carriers broken apart?

  Raf’s eyes widened as he studied the readout. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Rodriguez scanned the transponder frequencies. They were IDF ships. Packed together into as tight a formation as he’d ever seen, moving faster than any fleet had a right to.

  He grinned. “Yep.”

  The Hero of Earth had arrived.

  Chapter 4

  X-25 Fighter Cockpit

  Indira, Britannia Sector

  Lieutenant Tyler “Ballsy” Volz gripped his controls. If he wasn’t wearing flight gloves, he imagined his knuckles would be white with tension. With good reason—they’d never practiced the Granger Omega Three maneuver before. Lately, he hadn’t practiced much of anything.

  All he could think about was Fishtail. He visited her every day. Or rather, visited what had taken her place. A smug, over-confident Swarm agent—at least, when she wasn’t under full sedation. Gone were Fishtail’s mild-mannered wit and sarcasm. Her easy-going charm. In its place was … something alien. Utterly foreign.

  “All craft, prepare for launch. Watch yourselves, people. None of you have ever launched at this speed before, and you most certainly have not launched all at once like we’re trying today.” The CAG, Commander Pierce, listed off the instructions one final time. Each fighter, in its turn, would launch exactly one third of a second after the one before it. All one hundred and fifty of them. The accelerations would be gut-churning. The distances between fighters uncomfortably small.

  There was no room for error on this one.

  And the giant osmium brick tied to the undercarriage of each fighter more than doubled each craft’s mass. Maneuvering would be difficult.

  The Granger Omega Three maneuver. Omega: an appropriate term. It would most likely be the last thing they ever did.

  He glanced to his left, down the line of fighters with their engines idling. Spacechamp. Pew Pew and his brother, Fodder. He’d sure miss them. Commander Pierce’s voice cut through his headset. “Standby … five seconds … three, two, one, NOW!”

  To his right, the line of fighters started shooting out the giant bay door, one at a time, every point three three seconds. Much of it was computer-controlled, but not the actual maneuvering. When his time came, the engines roared to life automatically, and he barely had time to steer the nose of his fighter out toward the exit and space beyond.

  Fifty seconds later, they were all in position, forming a vast halo around the ISS Warrior. Thirty-some-odd heavy cruisers bunched up tightly behind the giant tungsten-armored carrier. All of them blazing toward the planet ahead of them. In orbit above that ravaged world stood the largest Swarm ship any of them had ever seen. It was still a tiny dot, but it grew larger.

  “All craft,” came Pierce’s voice, “brick launch on my mark.”

  Volz checked the computer calculations one more time, ensuring his thrusters were linked appropriately to the targeting computer. All clear.

  “Launch.”

  He flew back against his seat as the fighter leapt forward and to starboard, and moments later he felt the tell-tale clank as the osmium brick detached. A moment later he reversed thrust, aligning his nose with the edge of the Warrior’s bulk and maneuvered his fighter around the ship. There was no time for all of them to land in the fighter bay, and staying out to fight during the flyby was pointless. All they could do was hide in the shadow of the Warrior like the rest of the cruisers.

  Hide, and pray.

  Chapter 5

  Star Freighter Lucky Bandit

  Low orbit, Indira, Britannia Sector

  Something seemed dreadfully wrong. “They’re coming in way too fast. This doesn’t make any sense….” Rodriguez studied the sensor readout even as he pointed the nose of the freighter on a trajectory that would eventually let them break orbit and make their first q-jump.

  “Whatever,” said the pilot. “As long as they keep the bastards distracted while we make our getaway. And it’s not just us—there’s thousands of other freighters and colonial transports trying to make a break for—”

  Thousands of tiny explosions leapt out from the super dreadnought.

  “Hot damn!” Rodriguez watched the scene unfold in amazement. Granger, with his fleet coming in close behind, had oriented the Warrior so the bottom face of its hull was fully exposed to the super dreadnought and its two smaller companions. But peeking out from the shadow of the Warrior were hundreds of mag-rail turrets from the tightly-packed fleet of cruisers, each ship positioned such that its hull was protected by the Warrior, but with a clear enough view of the super dreadnought that it could fire several steady streams of ultra-high-velocity mag-rail slugs.

  Which they did. Thousands of impacts erupted all over the massive super dreadnought. It, along with the two escort carriers, opened up a devastating volley on the rapidly approaching Warrior, raking the underside of its hull with dozens of antimatter beams. Rodriguez could only imagine the destruction on the lower decks.

  “Pretty gutsy, but they’re flying past in less than ten seconds. I still don’t see how much good it’ll do,” said Raf, shaking his head.

  “Watch. I see it now,” interrupted Rodriguez, pointing at the sensors. They just barely detected over one hundred small projectiles which rocketed away from the Warrior. Small, but thousands of times larger than the standard mag-rail slug.

  And traveling at fifty kilometers a second.

  The incoming IDF fleet, still sheltered by the Warrior, continued pummeling the super dreadnought, some ships even turning their attention to the two Swarm carriers, but Rodriguez understood it now—the conventional fire was a ruse. Moments later, his suspicion was confirmed with a violent, eye-piercing explosion.

  One hundred and fifty eye-piercing explosions.

  “I don’t believe it.” Raf couldn’t take his eyes off the disintegrating super dreadnought. From the hundred and fifty massive, gaping holes erupted a hundred and fifty streams of debris, smoke, and fire, all up and down the hundred kilometers-long spine of the ship. “I don’t believe it,” he repeated breathlessly.

  “That’s Granger for you.” Rodriguez pushed hard on the accelerator. Now that the Swarm ships in the immediate vicinity were focused like a laser on the IDF fleet, it was the perfect chance to high-tail it out of there.

  “They still can’t win. Even without that super dreadnought there are over twenty Swarm carriers in orbit, and Granger only has thirty-six ships. Plus, he came in so fast that he’ll be flung out toward the outer solar system unless he can miraculously arrest his velocity in the next two minutes.”

  Rodriguez shook his head. “He’ll figure something out. He always does.”

  The pilot regarded him for a moment in disbelief, like an atheist skeptically eyeing the firm faith of a sincere believer, but he shrugged and began plotting their course toward a point where it would be safe to make the q-jump. Or at least, that was his intention. Instead, he gawked at the sensor readout again. “Yes, but what is he going to do about that?”

  Rodriguez’s eye followed t
he pilot’s outstretched finger.

  The sensor readout had more bad news.

  Chapter 6

  Bridge, ISS Warrior

  Indira, Britannia Sector

  Granger was beginning to regret his order—the Granger Omega Three maneuver was wreaking havoc down on the lower decks. The ship trembled and shook violently. The super dreadnought and its two accompanying carriers were unloading everything they had straight into the Warrior’s gut, tearing their lower hull to shreds.

  But the results spoke for themselves—after twenty seconds of fleet bombardment, the super dreadnought was beginning to show signs of extreme duress, to put it lightly.

  “Massive power fluctuations coming from the dreadnought!” Ensign Diamond yelled over his console.

  Granger nodded, and inclined his head toward Commander Proctor. “Brick status?”

  “Launch in ten.”

  He studied the sensor readouts coming from the super dreadnought, then waved over to the comm station. “Send to fleet: retarget accompanying vessels.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Ensign Prucha. Moments later, the IDF fleet protected under the shadow of the Warrior redirected fire toward the other two Swarm ships hovering near the super dreadnought, which also began to erupt with thousands of small explosions where the mag-rail slugs ripped into their hulls. These three buggers are toast, Granger thought.

  But he was paying for it. Dearly. The bridge jolted to starboard violently as several of the incoming antimatter beams connected with one of the main inertial cancelers. Those things were embedded at least five decks within the lower hull. Damn—they were cutting deep. The bridge jerked again, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the marines stationed near the bridge entrance sway and struggle to remain on their feet.

  Granger counted silently in his head the remaining seconds, and moments later Proctor announced, “Brick launch. Impact in five. Prepare for attitude realignment.”

  “Put it onscreen,” said Granger, gripping his armrests ferociously to steady himself against the violent buffeting of the incoming storm of antimatter beams. “At least we’ll get to enjoy the show.”

  Just moments after the viewscreen focused on the Swarm super dreadnought, which had redirected its fire to the incoming osmium projectiles in a vain attempt to destroy them, the gaping holes appeared in blinding explosions as large chunks of the hull were blasted away. Each osmium brick, though only a few tons, was moving so fast that it slammed into the massive vessel with the energy of over a hundred megaton-class nuclear warheads.

  And even though the ship was dozens of kilometers long, it was no match for explosive energy on that scale. As Warrior and the rest of the fleet flew by at nearly fifty kilometers per second, reorienting itself so the smaller cruisers would remain in the shadow of Granger’s ship, the super dreadnought shuddered as it disintegrated into hundreds of smaller smoking pieces.

  Excited whoops and cheers erupted on the bridge, and Granger, for the first time that day, allowed himself a small smile. “Full reverse. Two times safety limits. Settle us into an orbit that will take us to the next cluster of Swarm carriers.”

  Commander Proctor looked up from her status board. “Heavy damage on the lower decks, sir. Main inertial cancelers are out. Numerous casualties on decks six and seven.” Her face tightened into a pained expression. “They nearly cut all the way up to main engineering, Captain. Just a few more seconds and we would have been goners.”

  “How much thrust can we sustain?” They had to arrest some of their speed, otherwise they’d fling out from the planet, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away from the battle, leaving the ravaged planet to its doom. From the looks of his planetary sensor readout, the Swarm had already devastated dozens of cities with singularity blasts, likely killing millions. Tens of millions. But there were still a handful of major cities left, and hundreds of smaller towns that had to be defended.

  “Auxiliaries are only rated at half the safety limits of the primaries.”

  “Then full reverse—double the safety standards of the auxiliaries.” He punched the internal comm. “Hold on, folks, we’re about to have a rough ride.” He noticed Proctor shoot him a raised eyebrow. “Again,” he added.

  As the reverse thrusters engaged, they were thrown back against their seat restraints, then forward, then backward again as the inertial cancelers struggled to keep up, swinging like a pendulum between the extreme acceleration vectors they were trying to balance. The deckplate seemed to groan, and Granger could hear the screeching of twisting metal deep within the walls. How much more could the Old Bird take?

  He shook his head. Dammit. The Old Bird was dead. Still sitting on the main boulevard in South Salt Lake City, where it had crash-landed and skidded to a halt, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. IDF engineers had decided to leave it there, building up a giant scaffold around the broken hulk as they performed a refit—the goal was to restore her, though she wouldn’t be ready for months yet. But he still hadn’t shaken the habit of calling the Warrior his Old Bird.

  He heard a groan from the sensor station, and almost simultaneously he heard Proctor mutter a curse. He glanced over at her. “I’m almost afraid to ask….”

  She looked up, her face taking on an almost resigned expression, as if she knew this battle would be their last. “Two more super dreadnoughts just q-jumped in. They’ll intercept our course in five minutes.”

  The math was starting to weigh on Granger’s mind. Twenty Swarm carriers still orbited the planet, pummeling its already-ravaged surface. Less than a third of the planet’s population likely was still alive. Two new dreaded super dreadnoughts to deal with. The Warrior was a wreck. Admiral Zingano, with his fleet, was occupied with its own invasion, lightyears away.

  “Sir?” Proctor said, eyeing him.

  He sighed. “Prepare for q-jump.”

  Chapter 7

  Bridge, ISS Warrior

  Indira, Britannia Sector

  The bridge fell quiet in the aftermath of his order to q-jump. From the way they eyed him it was clear that they were expecting to make a strategic withdrawal. To stand and fight another day. Somewhere else. He saw in their eyes that it pained them, but that they were prepared to do it. To run.

  But Granger had never retreated. Ever.

  And he wasn’t about to start. “Prepare for q-jump to these coordinates,” he said, punching in a set of numbers and sending them to the helm. Ensign Prince looked at them, finally understanding Granger’s meaning.

  “We’re making another pass?”

  “You got it, Ensign.” He looked around the bridge. “Any objections?”

  No one spoke. Before he could continue, Commander Proctor cleared her throat. “We’re all behind you, Captain—” she began, but he could see in her eyes what she was going to say—that strategic withdrawal was smarter. But he wasn’t going to have any of it. He’d lectured her, and Zingano, and all the other captains more times than he could count. Stand your ground and fight, make the Swarm pay for every single system they took. Never retreat. Show no weakness of will. It was either that or fight them—and retreat from them—at the next world. And the next. And the next.

  No. The Swarm needed to be taught that humanity would never, ever, ever back down. Eventually, they would learn, calculate their own losses and realize that they would never truly win until every last human outpost was utterly obliterated.

  “Good,” he said, leaving Proctor with her mouth left half-open.

  “Sir, if I may, our lower hull is breached in three dozen locations. Engineering is a mess. Our fighters are all back in the bay and none has been reloaded with a brick yet, and you’re sending us into another Granger Omega Three against two of those super dreadnoughts? Surely there’s something else that can be done at this point.”

  He sighed. She was right, of course, but there simply was no alternative. He held up his hands. “If you have a better idea, Commander, I’m all ears.”

  With any other officer, he�
��d have them removed from the bridge. But Proctor had saved his ass more times than he could count. Still, their relationship had been strained over the past two months. Ever since that fighter pilot, Volz, had returned with Fishtail, claiming that he’d just escaped from a Swarm-controlled Captain Granger on the other side of the singularity. She’d defended him—hell, Zingano had defended him—against General Norton, the chairman of the joint chiefs, and though he’d kept his command, suspicions around him were high ever since.

  “Split the fleet. Send everyone in threes and fours and engage the carriers—they’re all spread out singly in various orbits. We’d last longer that way, and take out more of their fleet. And if we’re lucky, Zingano will show up before we’re all dead.”

  Admiral Zingano to the rescue. Dammit, that was Granger’s job.

  But she was right, of course. And he wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of the best outcome. That was something a politician would do, and, dammit, he was not a politician. He was not an Avery. Or worse, an Isaacson.

  “Do it.” He pointed to the tactical station. “Assign targets. Focus on those heading toward the remaining large population centers. Commander,” he said, turning back to her, “make the fleet assignments.”

  She nodded, focusing her attention to splitting up the fleet and informing the other captains. She looked back up. “And where will we be going, sir?”

  “My previous order stands. When our fleet has dispersed on their assignments, we make the q-jump.” He watched the viewscreen as the planet began to pull away—they were still on their highly elliptical course. “Straight down the throats of the two super dreadnoughts.”

  Proctor hesitated. “Alone?”

  “Alone.”