“Take us in, Ensign,” Drake said.
Capp nodded. She winked at Oglethorpe, then again at Smythe. “Ready, boys? Here we go.”
The subpilot’s eyes now took on a glazed look as her nav chip interfaced with the nav computer. Her fingers moved over the console. The ship gave a subtle move beneath them. It represented a violent shift in movement, Drake knew, so much so that without artificial gravity, they’d be splattered against the far wall.
Blackbeard hurtled straight at HMS Churchill. Drake’s other two cruisers followed. The destroyers swung wide to provide fire support. Two enemy corvettes broke from the pack and pounced. They opened fire, even as the rest of Lindsell’s fleet let loose.
Drake’s forces fired their first volley in response. Soon, the region of space a half million miles out from Hot Barsa was filled with snaking missiles, lumbering torpedoes, and chunks of flying metal the size of small lorries. Blackbeard struck a lucky blow on one of the streaking corvettes and forced it to retire.
At the same time, Caites took a hit to her helm. Richmond shrugged, maneuvered and launched countermeasures to fight off the rest of the attack. The other corvette came after her, followed by two torpedo boats and supported by Lindsell’s frigates. Caites took her cruiser and veered hard from the battle. She sent a panicked distress signal over the general com. It was a convincing display, and if Drake hadn’t known better, he’d have thought her seriously wounded.
Now Caites was exposed. The corvette could pursue her, harassing, while Lindsell followed in his powerful cruiser. Drake’s forces wouldn’t be able to protect Richmond before the enemy caught her. It was the plan, though. A dangerous one, but what they needed.
But Lindsell didn’t bite. Instead, he consolidated his forces, targeted Blackbeard, and thundered forward. Drake had been outmaneuvered. The two sides were about to collide, and he had sent one of his cruisers off the battlefield.
Chapter Twenty-five
Tolvern had her small force well prepared by the time the enemy returned, with towers manned and armed, the road hastily mined, and snipers taking position in the surrounding forest. She even had an anti-tank gun, which she wielded herself. She hid in the ditch outside the base as the rumble of lorries reached her ears, and she blasted the first vehicle straight to hell. Two shots from the anti-tank gun. The second hit the fuel tank. Flames shot skyward as she hoisted the gun and raced back within the base’s protective guns.
And then the enemy arrived in bulk. They seized the road and targeted the guard tower. Tolvern had hastily welded on metal plating, but the shields also restricted her ability to return fire. Enemy forces launched mortars and grenades into the compound. Others came through the forest to take the road on the opposite side, driving out Tolvern’s snipers and replacing them with their own.
She held them off the rest of the day, but as soon as it was dark, the enemy crept up and tried to cut through the razor wire. An armored personnel carrier attacked the gates directly before Tolvern chased it off with the anti-tank gun. Somehow, they survived the night.
Three of Pez Rykan’s rebels slipped past the enemy defenses on the second day and slightly bolstered Tolvern’s force. They told her of fighting in the jungle. Pez Rykan was struggling to get her reinforcements, but he had few guns and was short on ammo. It was a terrible irony. Tolvern had all the guns and ammo she needed, but lacked the fighters to shoot them.
The third day, the first of the Hroom prisoners, forced to swallow caplets at gunpoint, began to come around. The antidote worked most quickly on the more recently addicted. Brockett tested them with sugar first, then turned them over to Tolvern to arm. She was up to twenty-five defenders by nightfall.
It wasn’t enough. The constant fire had left her exhausted and rattled. And the heat. The neverending, confounded heat. The Hroom were affected, too. Three of her fighters threw down their weapons and fled the base, running for the jungle, only to be cut down by enemy snipers. At first, Tolvern had cursed the deserters as cowards. Then, she began to envy them. By the fourth day, she was contemplating surrender.
That night, while she was climbing the staircase to take her turn in the guard tower, she glanced up to see the sky glowing. Light flashed high in the atmosphere. Moments later, more flashes, until the entire sky was lit up as if with celestial fireworks. She knew what it meant. Captain Drake had his own fight up there.
She’d tried to raise Fort Gamma or Vigilant for the past few days, but the enemy had succeeded in jamming her communication. With the fighting up above, it wasn’t like they could send her armed help, but they might be able to drop a bomb from orbit, or even parachute in arms for Pez Rykan. Maybe. She couldn’t reach her Hroom ally at the moment, either.
Carvalho rose wearily when she entered the guard room, hands on his back and groaning as he straightened himself. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“It’s my turn,” she said.
“There are others who can handle this gun. And the enemy is holding still at the moment.”
She cupped a hand to her ear and dragged out a smile. “Sounds like gunfire to me.”
“Not on this side of the base. You need company?”
“Nah, get yourself some sleep.”
“Oh, I mean to,” he said. “Going to slump in the corner and close my eyes. Not as comfortable as a cot in the barracks, but right now it doesn’t matter much where I sleep. One of those bone diggers could burrow into my skull, and it wouldn’t keep me awake.”
“Then what good will you do here?” she asked. “Go down to the barracks. Go on.”
“Nah.” He turned on the screen of his computer and wiped away the condensation. He used the screen light to get a closer look at her. “You don’t look so well yourself.”
“You wouldn’t expect me to, would you?”
“We are both shellshocked. Here, I will stay with you and keep you company.” He turned off the computer and settled in the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest and disappearing into the shadows.
Tolvern shrugged, although she wasn’t unhappy with the company. She settled in at the gun. During lulls in the fighting, a brave Hroom mechanic had swung around and welded on more blast shielding, and the gun now had a protected slit through which to fire.
The night scope was on. The road outside the base was quiet. The enemy had made a movable barricade of trees, flanked by two burned-out vehicles. They could and often did come over the barrier and attack directly. But for now, there was no sign of movement.
“Tolvern?”
“Thought you were going to sleep.”
“Should we give up?” he asked.
“How do you mean?”
“Take what arms we can and fight our way to the forest. We might escape.”
“We wouldn’t.”
“Surrender, then.”
“Wouldn’t they kill us all anyway?” she pointed out.
“Only if we lose.”
“What do you mean, if we lose? That’s what surrender means.”
“If Drake loses, I mean,” Carvalho said. “If he wins, then the planet is ours. He can force the enemy to give up prisoners. But if he does not win, then we are trapped down here anyway.”
“You’re missing the larger strategic picture.” Tolvern swung the gun to check for movement along the ditches. She thought she’d spotted something, but now all seemed still.
“How would I miss it? We are trapped by a superior force. It is only a matter of time.”
“That’s what you’re missing, Carvalho. Time is on our side, not the enemy’s. They have to get in here. We have their food and ammo. They have no resupply. And every day we hold them here, the rebellion spreads on the plantation. Every day, new eaters are broken of their addiction. Tens of thousands of doses will go out, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”
“And that means what?” he asked.
“It means if we hold out, a hundred thousand square miles will be lost to the enemy for good. They’ll be forced to
flee for the highlands. We’ll join Pez Rykan, feed him guns and ammo, and move on to other plantations. One after another, they’ll all fall.”
In a few short weeks, she’d forced the security forces to fight and had drawn Malthorne and Dreadnought to protect the planet’s vast wealth. Without the sugar of Hot Barsa, how would Malthorne maintain his hold on the throne? He had nobles to buy off, a fleet to maintain, and new wars to finance. Even with the lands gained by stealing the crown, Malthorne needed this planet.
She caught movement through the scope. This time, Tolvern was sure. A rustle in the grass in the ditch on the right side of the road, about a hundred yards from the gates.
“We’ve got an infiltrator,” she said. “I’m going to take him out.”
But not until the enemy moved. Couldn’t let them know they’d been spotted while they were protected at the bottom of the ditch. She waited for the grass to move again. Carvalho came by her side. He grabbed the end of a belt of ammo to feed it in should she shoot.
There! A movement in the grass another twenty yards closer to her position. She squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked on with an angry snarl as she let the infiltrator have it. In the darkness, the tracer bullets looked like a glowing white knife, cutting back and forth along the ditch.
A light flashed. Something streaked toward her. It slammed into the guard tower, and she threw herself down. The room rocked with a tremendous boom. A hand-fired missile or grenade. She was rattled but unhurt when she picked herself up again. Carvalho cursed and shook his head.
Tolvern grabbed the gun again. And then, the night lit up. Gunfire flashed from both sides of the road, dozens of guns targeting her position. More gunfire came from behind the burned-out lorry. Moving figures, dozens of them.
This wasn’t an infiltrator. This was a major assault to overrun the base.
#
“I’m coming out,” Rutherford said.
“Hold your position,” Drake responded.
“Is that an order?” The other captain’s tone was insolent.
Blackbeard rocked from a blow to stern. Lindsell was hammering her hard with his cruiser and a corvette, and Potterman’s cruiser was caught in the crossfire of two destroyers while torpedo boats charged him from all sides, preventing him from coming to Drake’s assistance. Catherine Caites was already swinging around with Richmond, her bluff having failed, but hadn’t yet returned to the battlefield.
“Manx, is the secondary battery ready yet?” Drake asked.
“Barker says three minutes.”
Drake glanced at the console to see the enemy corvette approaching at high speed. “I need it now.”
He turned back to Rutherford, who didn’t appear on the main screen, but on the captain’s console. “Yes, that’s an order, dammit. You’ve got to keep Dreadnought off those forts.”
“I’m sitting here like an idiot. Gamma has lost her main battery, and her torpedo tubes are getting pounded. I have to bring the fight to Dreadnought. I’ve still got one engine. Let me do something with it.”
“Malthorne is turning,” Drake said. “Gamma can catch a breather in a few minutes.”
“But you won’t,” Rutherford said.
No, he wouldn’t. Caites fired off two long-range missiles. Her guns were warming. Potterman clawed his way free of the destroyers and knocked out two torpedo boats, but he was too harried to give Drake aid.
The enemy corvette streaked past Blackbeard, but Barker had finally got the secondary cannon online. They fired all three guns and cracked the corvette a hammer blow to the upper decks as she passed. Explosions rippled along her surface.
Lindsell still came at him with Churchill, together with a full complement of support craft, but Drake swung around with the main guns just as Caites lanced in at the enemy’s left flank. Drake’s own support craft were maneuvering expertly into position. It was an encounter Drake now believed he would win, given enough time.
This small victory didn’t change the basic equation. The battle was turning against them. Drake could match Lindsell, blow for blow, but here came Dreadnought. The battleship lumbered out from Hot Barsa, abandoning the attack on the forts.
Drake sent out a general order to the fleet. “Direct all fire at Churchill.”
He’d meant to break Lindsell before playing his last card. Get past these powerful forces before taking on Dreadnought. But that wasn’t going to happen in time. So he sent a message to Isabel Vargus. Now.
The mercenary fleet had been lingering just out of Dreadnought’s range and was already following the battleship as she pulled out of orbit. But now Vargus accelerated and moved to cut off Malthorne’s flagship. It might buy Drake a few minutes.
Blackbeard gave the enemy cruiser a broadside. Calypso joined Blackbeard from below, unleashing her own torpedo boats. Caites screamed in at the helm of Richmond. Suddenly, Captain Lindsell, who’d been landing most of the blows to this point in the battle, found himself under concentrated fire.
He let loose with his guns, and one of Drake’s torpedo boats broke apart. Next, two of Lindsell’s torpedoes slammed into one of the rebel destroyers. The first torpedo blasted an opening for the second one, which cut right through the heart of the ship. The rebel destroyer vented a brilliant plume of plasma and rocked with explosions before breaking in two. Escape pods jettisoned. Screams for help came across the com.
But while the enemy was attacking, concentrated firepower ripped apart Churchill’s armor both above and below. Lindsell rolled away in a desperate maneuver to save his craft. Drake hit Churchill again with his belly guns, and Calypso landed two more missiles. Lindsell fled, crippled and chased from the battlefield while the injured corvette and two destroyers tried to guard his retreat.
Instead of giving pursuit, Drake directed fire against the other ships of Lindsell’s task force, now in disarray. He’d cornered a destroyer and was hammering it into submission when Dreadnought appeared.
Malthorne’s battleship dwarfed every other ship on the battlefield. With more armaments than an orbital fortress and nearly as invulnerable, she scattered rebel ships ahead of her. They came to take shelter behind Blackbeard. Not that Blackbeard could provide much protection. Drake braced his forces.
Vargus had been pursuing in the mercenary fleet and now attacked. Outlaw led the charge, followed by several smaller schooners and frigates. The heavily armed but poorly maneuverable Pussycat swung wide and directed fire at Dreadnought’s bridge from a different angle.
Drake had hoped to force Dreadnought to confront this threat. But the battleship continued forward, turning on a small secondary battery and a few missiles to deal with the mercenaries. Even this was more than Vargus could handle. Cannon ripped apart two schooners, mauled a frigate, and knocked a hole in Pussycat’s formidable armor. Vargus pulled back from her run, her own ship emerging unscathed, but unable to continue the attack for lack of fire support.
The three rebel cruisers swung wide in end-to-end formation to attack Dreadnought with enfilading fire. When the battleship closed, they let loose with broadsides. Explosions flashed all along her surface. Dreadnought let loose with her own guns.
As if to show off Dreadnought’s power and even indifference to the combined might of the rebel fleet, Malthorne didn’t target any one ship, but fired cannon at a frigate, torpedoes at the three cruisers, missiles at the destroyers, and secondary batteries at everything else. Showing, as she did so, that she could fight everyone and everywhere at once.
The result was minimal damage to the three cruisers. But one of Drake’s remaining destroyers was in trouble, hit by missiles and stumbling from the battlefield straight into the remaining ships of Lindsell’s fleet. A rebel frigate took three torpedoes. Her ordnance detonated, and when consoles cleared, there was nothing left of her. Another frigate lost her engines and drifted aimlessly. A torpedo boat flew off, venting gasses, the crew preparing to eject.
While Dreadnought was knocking around various enemies, the mercenaries took ad
vantage of the loss of attention. This time, Vargus seemed to catch the enemy off guard. Outlaw landed two blows right above the bridge. Pussycat landed another before Dreadnought chased them off a second time. Jane analyzed damage. Twenty-two percent degradation of Dreadnought’s secondary bridge shield.
“Capp, get us up there,” Drake said. “Oglethorpe, I want the rest of the fleet following. That’s our chance. Hit that shield with everything we’ve got.”
But Admiral Malthorne called in two destroyers to stand a few hundred miles off his bridge as a secondary defense. His main battery was hot and ready to fire again.
Another ship approached the battlefield. “It’s Vigilant, sir,” Smythe called.
And so it was. Rutherford’s cruiser was firing her remaining engine and pulling away from Fort Gamma’s protective guns. Followed by a destroyer and a frigate, Vigilant accelerated toward the battlefield.
“Balls of steel,” Capp murmured in an appreciative tone. “Bloody fool, though.”
Drake raised his old friend. “You have your orders, Rutherford. You are to stand down and protect those forts.”
“The devil take your orders.” Rutherford’s tone was unusually stiff. Almost afraid, if that were possible. What had gotten into the man? “You have no hope. Dreadnought will tear you apart.”
“And how is your death going to help that? You are the last defense of the planet. Do what I say. Get back there at once.”
“No, Drake. I will not.” Rutherford cut the link.
Malthorne’s battleship was taking fire from three sides now, but still calmly positioning herself. Another broadside from the enemy. Calypso took a pounding. Two of her shields suffered so much damage it was a miracle the cannon fire hadn’t blown through her entirely. One of Drake’s last two destroyers fled, hunted by missiles. She launched desperate countermeasures, but two of the missiles came through. More heavy damage.
Vargus was still fighting furiously, but her support vessel, Pussycat, was fleeing the battlefield, a long trail of smoke and debris pluming out her backside. Another schooner was lost. The two destroyers Malthorne had called in now turned their guns on the mercenary flagship itself, and Vargus was about to be overwhelmed.
Rebellion of Stars (Starship Blackbeard Book 4) Page 19
