William Keith Renegades Honor

by Renegade's Honor

  Munro looked up from his console in the well, one hand pressing his earpiece close to the side of his head. He looked puzzled. "Uh... they say that Prefect Vallens is dead, Captain. Seems there's no one in charge just now. Sounds like a riot in the background. The lady I'm talking to promises they'll find someone.. .they're requesting that we not fire until they find a spokesman, sir."

  In fact, Kendric held the Warrior's firepower in check even after the technicians and communications specialists aboard the VLCA agreed on a leader to represent them. The Gael Warrior came to a halt relative to the VLCA, only a few hundred meters away, and deployed a shuttle, as the fighters began lining up for their recovery approaches. He and his men had taken the facility with the firing of a single shot... the shot that had killed the TOG Prefect commanding the station.

  "The last of our fighters are aboard, Captain."

  "Good. Any word on the rest of the squadron?"

  MacCandless shook his head on the console screen. "Nothing, sir.

  The Scanner Chief reports them on course, outbound, range about two light minutes. The TOG cruisers are closing on an intercept course. ETA, thirty-five minutes."

  "Right," said Kendric, knowing that didn't give them much time. He touched the comm channel selector. "Alec? Tell our boarding party to snap it up. We have an appointment we'd damn well better keep!"

  One hundred of the Warrior's starmen, armed and armored with gear taken from Legionnaires now held prisoner in one of the battleship's storage holds, had been sent across to wreck the VLCA.

  "Captain? Munro here."

  "Yes, Alec."

  "Chief Grant reporting, sir, from the VLCA."

  "Put him on."

  Chief Allan Grant had gone across in command of the boarding party. His face appeared now on Kendric's screen. In the background, Kendric could see consoles and a sweep of star-filled space. Grant must be calling from the VLCA's control room.

  "Captain? All secure here. But we may have a problem."

  "What is it, Chief."

  "There're maybe fifty...sixty civilians aboard who claim they're Albans and don't want to stay behind."

  "Can we arrange to shuttle them to Alba?" Kendric was thinking of the station's own shuttles and planetary transports.

  "Yessir, but they'd rather come with us. The lady in charge..."

  "Wait... lady?"

  "Yessir. She says, sir, that they'd rather take their chances with us than be marked as traitors by TOG."

  "Chief. Wait a minute, How many of these people are women?"

  "Haven't counted, sir. Maybe half."

  Kendric frowned. Sixty people, and half of them women! He could understand their reluctance to be shipped back to Alba. With TOG in control there, the civilians who had murdered a prefect and surrendered a VLCA might well expect retribution if they remained in the Argrian system.

  What was he supposed to do with sixty civilians aboard the Gael Warrior? What if some of them were TOG agents? More serious still, where would he find accommodations on board for thirty women? What he did know was that he was not about to leave them to Gracchi's merciful judgement. The other problems he would handle when the time came.

  "O.K., Chief. Bring 'em aboard. But hurry it up! We don't have much time."

  "The boys are going after the comm gear like you said, Captain."

  Kendric could, indeed, hear shouts and dull, cracking sounds in the background, accompanied by the tinkle of broken glass and the clatter of falling electronic gear. Gracchi would be certain that he, Kendric, had guessed what the two transports were. He would know where the Gael Squadron's next destination was...an insignificant red dwarf circled by a world named Greshem, 10,000 light years away.

  Yet, the only advantage Gracchi could make of that knowledge would be if he could coordinate several TOG fleets or battle squadrons that already happened to be operating in that region—and for that he would need a VLCA. With VLCA Alba out of operation, the Overlord had only two choices. He could wait for the arrival of TOG reinforcements at Alba and then pursue the Gael Squadron to Greshem, or board a ship to some other system with a VLCA and coordinate a trap at Greshem from there.

  "One more thing, Chief."

  "Yessir!"

  "There ought to be some sort of map or chart over there that lists other VLCAs in this neck of the Galaxy. Find it. Get one of the technicians to help, if you need to." Kendric could better plan things if he knew how long it would take Gracchi to reach the next nearest VLCA.

  The destruction of VLCA Alba took less than fifteen minutes. Controls and consoles were smashed and their electronics torn out. The facility's main computer was purged, its memory cores blanked. As a final, parting gesture, space-suited starmen had planted a small plastic explosive charge on the kilometer-wide antenna outside, set to be detonated when current flowed through the antenna feed. With luck, Gracchi's men might be able to get the station working with several days of hard work. If they didn't search the apparently undamaged outer works, however, they were liable to sabotage their own antenna the moment they tried to test it.

  Meanwhile, the Warrior's shuttles were busy ferrying sixty-four civilian technicians from the station to the battleship. As each shuttle-load came aboard, enlisted ratings herded the refugees up and forward to the enlisted quarters that Kendric had ordered cleared, one for the men, the other for the women. The crewmen evicted from their quarters could double up for a while.

  The refugee traffic moved both ways, too. Out of the Gael Warrior's crew of 1160 men, 221 had informed their crew chiefs that they did not want to remain aboard. Those men now crowded aboard the shuttles as they returned to the VLCA, their belongings in duffle bags slung over their shoulders. The transfer went smoothly, with little friction between those leaving and those remaining aboard. Kendric did not want anyone aboard the Warrior who did not want to be there, and apparently his crew felt the same way.

  The communications station had a crew of over 350 people, not counting the civilian technicians. To this number was added 221 more from the Warrior. All those not wishing to board the Warrior were herded into a quarters module and locked in by the simple expedient of melting the door electronics. That done, the last of the boarding party shuttled back to the Gael Warrior.

  The battleship was making final preparations for acceleration when Kendric got another call.

  "Captain! Ops here! Our scanners have an unidentified ship approaching us from planetward, sir. Reads out as an interplanetary shuttle."

  "Any contact with them?"

  "No, sir. We've got some atmosphere leakage registering. If they're damaged, their radio could be out." The man sounded doubtful. A lone shuttle could mean more refugees from Alba Port, or it could be a shuttle, remote-controlled or piloted by a volunteer, with a cargo bay crammed with explosives or a small nuclear warhead.

  Kendric relaxed. "Kelly? Can you make out their acquisition lights yet?"

  "Yessir. They've got standard running lights...and their landing approach beacon, too. Looks like they want us to see them..."

  "Patch through to flight approach and let them land, Kelly. Alpha Bay."

  "Sir?"

  "They're on our side, Commander. Lieutenant Jaime Douglass will be aboard." Kendric's smile widened. "And a friend."

  "It wasn't my idea at all," Jaime confessed later. "You told me she could look out for herself, but I had no idea she could be so... persuasive!"

  Kendric was willing to concede that. It had been T.C.'s idea for Captain White to approach Alba Port several minutes after the Gael ships had begun their boost, volunteering assistance in the wake of an obviously major disaster, with hatch seals blown and bodies adrift in space. By the time the Corrine-aias-Agravender II had docked, other commercial vessels were making their approaches as well, eager to render assistance to the station's TOG masters and prove that they, at least, had had nothing to do with the events they'd just witnessed!

  The explosion of several hatchways not rated as pressure doors had ma
de conditions aboard the orbital facility look quite serious for a moment. T.C. and Douglass had moved freely through the corridors, joining those who were helping the TOG medics search for wounded, and the TOG Damage Control personnel search for leaks.

  At T.C.'s urging, Douglass had located a small shuttle bay on one of the lower levels. They did find shuttles there, but an unpleasant surprise as well. It looked as though someone had set off explosives in the bay some time before. No doubt the TOG masters had been attempting to deny ready shuttles to mutinous Gael crewmen who might rush in to overpower the troopers, then escape to anonymity on the planet below.

  Of five shuttles in the bay, three were ruined beyond repair, and a fourth was so badly damaged it would take hours to make it space-worthy. A fifth had escaped the worst consequences of the blast. Its gravs still worked, if roughly, and a quick circuit check showed that the bay launch system was still functioning. The pressure^ seals had been damaged, however, and the shuttle's cabin would not hold atmosphere for long. Worse, a chunk of debris had smashed the communications system, cratering the shuttle's hull directly over the circuitry panels that controlled all of the shuttle's comm systems.

  Again, it was T.C. who had suggested that Jaime check the shuttle's running lights.

  "Why?" the pilot had protested. "That's the last thing we have to worry about!"

  "Wrong, Jaime. Those lights are our auxiliary communications. But then, I guess you were asleep when we used them before, weren't you?"

  She hadn't explained that statement until after they'd seen the Warrior's flicker shields go down. For Jaime, the voyage from Alba Port to the VLCA had been worrisome. There was simply no reason for the battleship to allow the shuttle to approach without having properly identified itself!

  Kendric and T.C. gently disentangled themselves from their first embrace. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," he said softly. He looked up over her shoulder at Jaime, standing awkwardly in the Alpha Bay passageway. "You too. Commander. Glad you could make it!"

  "Do you greet all of your officers this way, Captain?" T.C. asked with a giggle.

  Kendric laughed, then said, "Now, if my official duties as receptionist have been fulfilled, I'm going back up to the bridge. Chief

  Wemyss here will show you to quarters, T.C. Jaime, I imagine you'll find your people in the Ready Room."

  "Yes, sir! On my way!"

  The Gael Warrior was already accelerating by the time Kendric had reached the bridge. Morganen's orders had been to maneuver and boost as soon as the damaged shuttle was taken aboard.

  They raced toward their planned rendezvous.

  The laws of physics being what they are, there is a certain, minimum range to T-space transitions, a distance that works out to approximately two-tenths of a light year. Kendric was gambling. Their TOG pursuers would know that the Gael Warrior would be attempting to rendezvous with the rest of the renegade fleet as quickly as possible and that Kendric did not dare split his tiny force for longer than was necessary. The TOG ships would have closed with the Gael Squadron by now, guided by their T-doppler tracking gear.

  The trick was for the Gael Warrior to arrive at the rendezvous in the proverbial nick of time.

  "... two... one... engage! "

  The familiar dropping, wrenching sensation of T-space transition swept through Kendric, and space on the viewscreen ahead shifted to its characteristic milky whiteness. A set of red, digital readout numbers in the viewer's corner began the countdown from ten to one.

  "All stations, standby!" Kendric ordered. "Mr. Fairfax, prepare to engage targets of opportunity!"

  There was no way to know what they would find when they emerged into normal space. There was no way to pinpoint their breakout point relative to the other ships, either their own, or TOG's. Coordinates exchanged with the other ships before their departure fom Alba should narrow the field considerably, but...

  The seconds to breakout flickered past, and at the moment of transition, the shuddering nausea gripped Kendric again. When the moment passed, he saw that their guesses had been educated ones!

  The battle raged a scant few tens of kilometers distant.

  "Well done, Helm crew!" Kendric roared. "Fire control! Targets!"

  A TOG light cruiser was making a slow turn, fifty kilometers ahead, her lasers and mass drivers hammering at the port flicker shields of the Abu. The little frigate had already taken damage. Under magnification, Kendric could make out gashes and craters in the hull metal along her ventral and starboard surfaces. Beyond, the second TOG light cruiser exchanged round for round with the Reannruadh, as all three Gael corvettes circled for shots at the enemy's stern. Everywhere, ships were maneuvering and firing, and space was filled with the pulsing, high-speed I-K wakes of missiles.

  The Gael ships had been unable to maintain their straight-line run outsystem, but the speed of all of the ships was so high that turns took considerable energy and time. Most of the ships were running more or less parallel, firing as they went. The Gael Warrior had entered the melee along the same vector with a higher T-space exit speed. She plowed through the battle zone like a stampeding herd of Skyean throgs through light scrub.

  The Warrior fired every weapon in her main ventral battery, hammering at the enemy cruiser's stern. White light blotted out its drive flare as the cruiser's flicker shields radiated torrents of energy from multiple hits. Brighter flashes still walked across the ship's aft quarter as hit after hit pierced the shields and struck home in soft armor. Chunks of armor peeled back from gaping craters and spun off into space. Atmosphere gushed forth in glittering clouds of ice crystals as water condensed and froze.

  "Hold the main gun for the next in line, Mr. Fairfax," Kendric warned. "I want to free the Reannruadh as quickly as possible!"

  "Aye, sir. We have full charge on the main driver. We'll fire when you give the word."

  Another volley sliced into the first light cruiser, smashing at bridge and the curved tau radiator fin aft of the bridge tower. With that, the TOG ship began falling away from the fleeing Abu. A radar housing collapsed, and then the entire upper bridge tower burst into flames instantly quelled by hard vacuum. Space everywhere was filled with hurtling fragments.

  "His aft-starboard shield is failing," MacCandless reported from Ops. It was a plea for pursuit.

  "Maintain course, Mr. Kirkpatrick," Kendric ordered the Helm. "Bear for the second cee-ell!"

  The second CL—a Mercenarius light cruiser with the name Assassin stenciled prominently along her flank—continued to trade shots with the Reannruadh at a range of thirty kilometers. The Gael cruiser had already taken heavy damage along her port and dorsal sides. Kendric could make out the smashed ruin of several forward turrets, their guns pointing drunkenly at useless angles.

  "The main gun, Mr. Fairfax. Fire as you bear!"

  "Main gun, fire!"

  The bridge lights dimmed as unthinkable power surged through the battleship's core accelerator. There was a flash, barely noticed, as the battleship's main weapon fired. Then the screen blanked out entirely as the computer masked the savage, nova radiance of a block of steel and thorium impacting on mere, meter-thick hull metal. That impact released kinetic energy at temperatures more usually found in the hearts of suns. The enemy cruiser appeared to crumple, folding around the point of impact as though it were tinfoil. Flicker shields failed in the blink of an eye, as debris cascaded outward in a ragged, spherical shell expanding into space. Lights marking ports and lounge area windows flashed off, on, off in unison, then remained off as the ship's main generators failed. Her turrets ceased tracking the Reannruadh's shark shape and the triple flares burning deep in the enemy ship's main drive Venturis flared into momentary brilliance, then died.

  "Good shooting, Lee!" Kendric cried. "Ops! Where's that heavy?"

  "Bearing two-seven-three, minus five, relative, Captain. Range 18,000 kilometers!"

  At Kendric's command, the Gael Warrior slowed, skewing into a high-speed turn to port. Stars streaked fire across
the forward screen as the Warrior changed course. The last enemy cruiser lay straight ahead, engaged in a running firefight with three destroyers.

  The Gael destroyers were powerful ships. Lightly armored but well-armed, they had high acceleration for a capital ship, coupled with superb maneuverability. Their opponent was the Mars Class heavy cruiser, the lulio, slower and less maneuverable, but mounting much heavier weapons and tougher armor under more powerful flicker screens. The lulio was rugged enough to give the Gael Warrior a stiff contest in an even match. A destroyer—even three destroyers—stood little chance against such a monster.

  It was evident that the lulio's captain was using his advantage to the fullest, ignoring the attacks of two destroyers while concentrating on one victim selected earlier in the fight. That victim was the destroyer Galad. The Gaidheal and the lolaire flashed in tight passes across the heavy cruiser, weapons chewing at armor and screens, but the lulio ignored their persistent attacks and fired salvo after well-aimed salvo into the Galad's flank.

  "Ready with the main gun," Kendric ordered.

  "Charged and ready, sir!"

  "Steady..." The range closed. "Fire!"

  Again, lights dimmed, and Kendric felt the faint jar from a dozen decks beneath his feet as the mass driver hurled its projectile.

  "All weapons," Kendric snapped. "Fire!"

  "Main weapon missed," Fairfax announced. He appeared calm, almost bored, though tension crackled on the bridge like air charged with a coming thunderstorm.

  "Crank the big gun up again, Lee. Keep the other guns firing!"

  On the TOG cruiser, turrets swung wildly to bear aft and starboard.

  A heavy cruiser might ignore destroyers for a short time, but not a battleship. The Gael Warrior's forward screens shrieked high, piping tones of light as they juggled coherent light and incoming mass chunks. A laser turret mounting vanished in green and blue fire, leaving emptiness and a hole trailing sparks.

  All three destroyers fired then, concentrating on the cruiser's aft starboard shield. The Warrior fired again, and again the heavy mass driver round missed.