“Uhh…stealth ship, remember? The sneaking part? Yeah. No problem. But we don’t really have much in the way of—”
“Fer fuck’s sake!” Henricksen yelled, slamming his fist against the panel. “Would you just man up and do something useful for a change?”
“Right, right, right. We’ll see what we can do.” Shriek skedaddled in a hurry, taking his little cadre of stealth ships with him, cloaking devices securely in place. A swirl of darkness and the energy contrail from their engines the only things giving their position away.
“C’mon-c’mon-c’mon,” Henricksen whispered, staring fixedly at the windows.
Weapons fire appeared a few seconds later, lighting up Brutus’s nose. Tracked across his bridge pod to the huge array mounted above it, targeting a notch in the shielding where Bosch’s cannons had knocked a few panels loose.
The Ravens formed up, concentrating their fire on the exposed mechanism—a mounting point connecting the array to the ship. A few passes and the shielding shredded. A few more and Shriek and his boys finally managed to score a direct hit.
Small weapons on a Raven—just as Shriek said. But with the shielding gone, they chewed through the base of that array in no time, slicing it free of Brutus’s hull.
“Fuck yeah!” Henricksen pounded the panel in front of him, lips skinned back in a snarling smile. “’Bout damn time. Keep hitting him, Shriek.”
“But…the Dreadnoughts—”
“Forget the Dreadnoughts. It’s Brutus we’re after.” He raised a hand, shielding his eyes as a flare appeared, lighting up the bridge. Reached blindly for comms, keying into a Fleet-wide channel, not even caring if Brutus and his ships heard. “Focus everything you’ve got on the Bastion. The rest are just—fuck!”
Henricksen clapped his hands to his ears as a shriek of static blanketed the channel, a second flare erupting—this one brighter than the first, whiting out the bridge.
Blanked Serengeti’s forward-facing cameras in the process, leaving her blind for three whole seconds. The video feeds came back in time for her to spot the chunks of exploded Aurora flying toward her, but far too late for Serengeti to do anything about them.
Wreckage slammed into her, ripping away a huge section of hull plating, tearing a hole in Serengeti’s starboard side. Klaxons shrieked in a panic, warning of failures, everywhere, decompression on the lower levels.
“Damage report!” Henricksen called, yelling over the noise of the alarms.
Aoki queried the system, frowning at the data on her panel. “Hull compromise. Starboard side rear. We lost a few compartments.”
And the crew. The equipment. Everything inside.
“Seal it,” Henricksen barked. “Divert the emergency crew to those sections.”
Serengeti closed off the damaged compartments while Aoki sent orders to the crew, evacuating the compromised section. Automated systems dropped the pressure doors along the length of the damaged passageways, cordoning off that part of the ship.
“Damage is contained,” Aoki reported. “Crew have been evacuated.”
Henricksen nodded without looking, eyes locked on the windows, watching the battle outside. Fists clenching as Bosch scored a direct hit on Scylla’s belly, splitting the Dreadnought neatly in half.
“Die, you bitch,” the gunner muttered, moving on to the next target.
A crackle of energy and Negev let loose with that forced ion cannon of hers, sparking globe ejecting, carving its way between Grendel and Caliban. Hull plating tore free, swirling in the energy globe’s wake, the Aphelion’s orb chewing through the two Dreadnoughts before crashing head-on into Nephilim—missile and ship disappearing in a burst of cobalt fire.
Henricksen smiled, watching Nephilim die. “Aphelion’s not half bad. Nice job, Negev,” he called, cuing ship-to-ship comms.
“Getting to like this creaky old thing,” she told him. A crackle of electricity and she primed the Aphelion’s gun, charge building near the ship’s hull, sparking angrily along the forked lightning rod sticking from the ship’s nose.
“Uhh…Guys?” Shriek called, voice drifting across comms.
Henricksen stumbled a step, fetching up against a panel as railgun fire scored along Serengeti’s starboard side. “Kinda busy here, Shriek.”
“Thought you might wanna know…Brutus is sending a communication. Looks like he’s calling for help.”
“Fuck.” Henricksen lurched to the side, hitting hard, face turning grey as he clutched at his injured stomach. Leaned over like he was about to puke, hands braced against the panel in front of him as he gasped raggedly at the air. “Can you—Can you jam it?” he managed, voice a ragged-edged croak.
“What? Oh. Right. Aaaand done!” Shriek said brightly.
Henricksen straightened with an effort—eyes closed, hand gripping the panel tight. “Anything get through?”
“Probably.”
“Great.” Henricksen sighed wearily, rubbing at his face. “Just fucking great.”
“Sorry, buddy.”
Henricksen just shook his head, glancing sharply at Finlay as Scan lit up.
“Jump displacement,” she called, checking the feeds from the sensors. “Buckles are forming. We’ve got ships inbound, sir.”
“Shit. More fucking ships.” Henricksen sighed again, closing his eyes. “How many this time, Finlay?”
“Looks like a dozen. Coming in at Atacama’s six, three thousand kilometers out.”
Henricksen’s eyes opened, looking up Serengeti’s camera. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance Atacama’s expecting company?”
Doubtful. She keyed a channel to Atacama, asking anyway.
“Not ours,” Atacama told her.
“Well, crap.” Henricksen opened comms to the Fleet. “More ships inbound, people. And they’re sure as hell not friendly.”
Atacama sent a message, splitting thirty Valkyries off. Ordered them to come about and face the buckle as the jump displacement resolved and a hulking, monstrous shape emerged.
Bastion. No doubt about it. No other vessel lumbered through space like that. Cassius, the beacon named him—as much of a bastard as Brutus himself.
“Two Bastions?” Aoki’s hands slipped from the panel, piled loosely in her lap. She stared at the windows, station completely forgotten. “That’s it. We’re done for.”
“Not if I can help it. Atacama!” Serengeti called.
“I see him! We’re on it!” Atacama ordered more ships to come about, splitting her forces to target both Bastions at once.
“The rest of you keep firing on Brutus,” Henricksen ordered. “Give him everything you’ve got!”
Weapons fire lit up the darkness, globes of energy mixing with bars of light, flashing back and forth across the stars. Serengeti’s forces had the advantage of numbers, but two Bastions working together…hell of a lot of firepower. More than equal to what the Valkyries brought to bear.
They made a brave show of it anyway, the Aphelion scoring a direct hit on Wendigo that obliterated his hind end, sustained fire from Atacama and a few others carving through Cormoran and Caliban, chewing a hole in Brutus’s side.
Brutus shrugged the damage off and reoriented—tough old bastard, had to give him that—Cassius turning with him. That’s when everything started to go wrong.
Cassius unloaded, and Sonoran disappeared—obliterated by a fusion round that igniting her fuel cells, burning the Valkyrie from the inside out. Hellisey took a plasma blast head on that cored through her, leaving her a floating shell. Nagu slammed into her, sustaining heavy damage, dropped back, and drifted to one side—beacon still squawking, everything else knocked off line.
Tanami, Acoma, Kyushu, Sheshan—everywhere Serengeti looked Valkyries died. Amager took a hit that passed right through her, peeling back her hull plating, exposing the girders beneath. She slewed over and recovered, hit her thrusters, and opened her main engines wide, screaming like a Banshee as she shoved straight for Brutus—suicide run, no chance of recovery.
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She almost made it—Amager was just about there, Brutus set in her sites. But Rephaite slid in front of her at the last minute, taking the hit meant for Brutus. The two ships connected, exploding in spectacular fashion—atmosphere ejecting, fuel burning in flares as munitions popped off like fireworks.
Amager died, taking Rephaite down with her, but Brutus never noticed. Never even slowed his fire. The Bastion just kept plugging away at the ships around him—cannons blazing, rail guns rattling, chewing through the seemingly limitless munitions stores hidden deep inside him.
“This isn’t working!” Shriek yelled as Valkyries disappeared. The combined might of Serengeti’s Sisters—nearly two hundred vessels strong—withering beneath the onslaught of Brutus and Cassius’ guns.
A swirl of darkness and the stealth ship flickered into existence, stray shot poking a hole in his bow. Cloaked and disappeared again, running for the stars. “You guys should get outta here,” Shriek called, cloaked shape moving away. “One Bastion you could maybe take care of, but two? That’s suicide, Serengeti. If you’re smart, you’ll just cut and run.”
“No,” Henricksen said flatly, beating her to it. He braced himself against the Command Post’s panels, swaying slightly, looking like he might fall over at any minute. “We finish this. No backing down. No running away.”
Not that they could have if they’d wanted to. Serengeti’s jump drives being busted and all.
Klaxons erupted, note changing as Scan went berserk. Serengeti drank in the sensor feeds and stared in disbelief as yet another hyperspace buckle appeared.
“Henricksen. Vessels inbound.”
“Aw, c’mon! What the fuck now?!” He swung around, stumbling a step as a plasma cannon carved a chunk out of Serengeti’s tail. Caught himself against a panel and clung to it, fresh blood staining his jacket. “How many, Finlay?” he rasped. “How many ships this time?”
Finlay’s fingers flew across the panel, exchanging one data window for another, parsing through the information the sensors brought back. “Looks like…” She paused, frowning, swiping at a data window, layering the information from several feeds together. “Just one, sir.” Finlay blinked in surprise, throwing a look over her shoulder. Shunted the new data to the front windows, placing a video feed beside it.
“One of ours or one of theirs?” Henricksen asked, watching that feed.
“Don’t know.”
“Whaddaya mean—?”
“I don’t know!” Finlay yelled.
“It’s huge,” Samara breathed, staring at the windows. Watching the hyperspace buckle grow, and grow, and grow. “What kind of ship is that big?”
Only one that Serengeti knew of. And she wasn’t quite sure they wanted that ship here. “Henricksen—”
An actinic flare burst through the windows, blotting everything out, blinding cameras and bridge crew alike. Error messages popped up everywhere, cameras rebooting, video feeds blanked out and trying to recover.
Serengeti fired, relying on her sensors to tell her where the enemy ships were. Kept firing until the darkness lifted and the video feeds came back.
Huge ship in front of her, sliding free of the hyperspace buckle. Fortress-shaped and looming—a citadel amongst the stars.
“Cerberus,” Serengeti breathed. “Cerberus has come.”
Henricksen frowned darkly at the windows, the massive shape outside. “Fuck. This can’t be good.”
Thirty-Four
Cerberus’s entry point put him directly behind Brutus’s forces. And Serengeti herself in the unenviable position of staring down the barrels of the Citadel’s guns.
Brutus and his Dreadnoughts sat between them—a small sea of ships doing their damnedest to blow Serengeti straight to hell—while Cassius lurked off her starboard side. Atacama and her Valkyries stuck between them—back-to-back, defending against the Bastions on either side.
A powder keg set to blow—the Valkyries going down quickly once Cassius arrived. And then in came Cerberus—massive and hulking, a whole damn stack of powder kegs with an unknown timer. A sputtering, stuttering fuse.
Serengeti stared across the Dreadnoughts, wary of the Citadel’s shape. Wondering which Cerberus had come among them, and whose side he was on.
Hard to tell, based on his position—the Citadel’s guns put both sides in equal danger. And after jumping in with such fanfare, Cerberus just sat there, floating. Lurking in the darkness with his guns silent and sensors quiescent. Nothing but his beacon to show he wasn’t powered down and dead.
“Whaddaya think?” Henricksen asked, nodding to the windows. “He on Brutus’s side or ours?”
“Hard to tell,” Serengeti admitted, increasingly worried. Wishing she knew what the hell was going on.
Henricksen folded his arms, head tilting, eyes flicking from the camera to the windows. “Hail him, ya think?”
“Worth a try.” She opened a channel—private line, direct to the Citadel—and found the signal blocked. Her own hail bouncing back at her, echoing ominously in the dark. “Blocked,” she reported. “Cerberus isn’t answering.”
“So much for that idea,” Henricksen muttered.
“Uhh…boss?” Bosch flipped up his targeting visor, nodding to the Citadel’s shape outside. “Should I be—?”
“Shit! Incoming!” Henricksen screamed, as Brutus’s cannons flared, plasma rounds slamming into Serengeti’s bow.
Systems lit up, reporting damage to her hull plating, a couple of turret guns ripped away.
“Bosch! Keep firing goddammit!” Henricksen barked.
Bosch scrabbled at his visor, knocking it back into place. “What am I shooting at?” he yelled, pod pivoting, targeting system locking onto the nearest Dreadnought.
“Anything that shoots at us.”
“Got it.” Bosch squeezed the triggers and started blasting away.
Henricksen held tight to a panel, grunting as a second barrage hit them, making the ship shudder and shake. “What’s our move here, Serengeti?”
“Wish I knew.”
Bad idea attacking the Citadel if he was here to help them. Worse idea to just sit here if he’d shown up to throw in with Brutus.
“Try him again?” Henricksen suggested. “Maybe Cerberus just missed your last call?”
“Right,” Serengeti snorted.
“Worth a shot.”
“What the hell.” She sent another message—text-based this time, thinking that might somehow get through when voice comms hadn’t.
No such luck. Instead of bouncing back to her, the message just errored out. No one receiving on the other end. Nowhere for the message to go but here.
“No good. Cerberus is blocking all inbound comms.”
“Well, that’s encouraging.” Henricksen pulled a data screen onto his mash-up panel, studying the Citadel’s position, the data Serengeti’s sensors captured on the huge ship. “Pretty damn quiet. Cerberus isn’t allowing any comms in, and he sure isn’t sending anything out. Damn,” he muttered, eyes lifting to the windows, flashes of light flickering across his face. “What the hell are you up to, you overgrown bastard?”
“Sir!” Finlay called, twisting around. “You should see this.” A nod to the front windows and she touch at her panel, zooming in on the Bastion at the center of the data display. “It’s Brutus. He’s turning.”
Brutus and a dozen of his Dreadnoughts, based on the shifting about on that display. Nearly a third of the Bastion’s forces coming about and pointing their guns at Cerberus while the rest worked with Cassius to whittle away at Atacama and her Valkyries. Keep Serengeti’s ships at bay.
“Guess Cerberus isn’t talking to Brutus either.” Henricksen spared a look for Serengeti’s camera, turned his eyes back to the diagram on the front windows, watching the Bastion and his Dreadnoughts shift and shift about. “Son of a bitch is gonna do it. Brutus actually thinks he can actually take down the Citadel.” He grunted, shaking his head, looking somewhat impressed. “You suppose he can?” he asked a mom
ent later, throwing a curious look at the camera. “I mean, under normal circumstances, I’d say he didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, but you said Cerberus was acting a little…” He crossed his eyes, twirling a finger next to his temple.
“He might. If Cerberus only has the automated defense systems.”
Hard to tell from here, with all the ships between them. Weapons fire confusing the scans. And with the Citadel on lock down…no information available. Nothing allowed in, nothing at all seeping out.
“You ask me, it’s suicide,” Henricksen muttered, staring hard at the windows. A shrug of his shoulders as he turned his eyes to the camera. “His funeral, I guess. He wants to take on Cerberus, I say have at it.”
“Not sure it’s that simple. If Brutus attacks—”
Lightning flashed, flickering wildly as Brutus completed his turn and unloaded on the Citadel’s center ring, blasting it with every last gun he had left.
Henricksen’s eyebrows lifted, gaze flicking between Serengeti’s camera and the front windows. “You were saying?”
Serengeti sighed. “Doesn’t matter. It’s too late now.” She pulled up the feeds from her hull cameras, one part of her consciousness keeping tabs on the ships around her—weapons fire and positions, proximity to herself—while another watched the scene playing out in front of her. Sensor arrays wide open and trained on the Citadel as Brutus’s guns chewed away at his hull. Listening in the darkness, wondering how Cerberus would respond.
To her surprise, she found nothing. The Citadel remained silent. No signs of any activity. No indication at all that he’d even primed his guns.
“Why’s he just sitting there?” Henricksen frowned, leaning forward, squinting his eyes as he studied the Citadel’s shape. Glanced aside as a new piece of data appeared—strings of information scrolling across the front windows. “Finlay. Give me a video feed. Close up view of Cerberus.”
“Aye, sir.” Finlay cycled through the feeds, trying to find the best view of Cerberus, but they only offered glimpses.
Serengati 2: Dark And Stars Page 37
