“Do we have time for this, sir?” Dietrich asked. “Contact in six minutes.”
“They're moving in too quickly,” Mike replied. “And look at their fighters. They've scattered their formation to hell and gone. If we'd taken our time, they'd have had cover if they needed it. The idiots are leaving their ships wide open.”
“I've got Commander Guerrero, sir,” Petrova replied. “I'm having trouble making contact with Commander Morrison, though. Some sort of communications trouble.” She added, “At our end, sir. There's a disruption in the tactical net.”
“I can't raise Commander Duval, either,” Dietrich said. He turned to Mike, and continued, “This is bad, sir. There's someone working against us.”
“And we all know who,” Schmidt said, looking around the room. “The son of the enemy commander is sitting right here on the bridge, and I saw him wandering around the lower levels of the ship before the battle. Lieutenant Petrova will back me up.” She looked at the two guards at the elevator, confusion reigning on their faces, and added, “Tell me I'm wrong, sir.”
“Sam, can you repair the damage?”
“Working on it, Commander. Give me a few minutes.” He slammed his fists on the control panel, and added, “Damn it, Schmidt, you made a hell of a mess of this system!”
Guerrero's face flickered onto the viewscreen, and she immediately said, “What's going on over there? Our tactical status...”
With an angry glare at Schmidt, Mike said, “We're having control systems failures, Commander. Sabotage. Though somehow I don't think that this is the work of the rebellion. You and Arcturus are going to have to take point. Launch a time-on-target attack in ten minutes, and ignore any updates from the tactical network. We can't trust it. Someone's suborning our systems.”
Folding her arms, Guerrero asked, “Am I to assume command of the squadron?”
“Not while I'm still drawing breath, Commander. Launch your attack as instructed.”
“Aye, sir. Cygnus Actual out.”
As her image snapped off the screen, Dietrich turned from his work and said, “You realize that the fighters are still scattered all over the place. About half of them moved into the sentinel formation you ordered at the start of the battle, but two squadrons are trying for a fast pass on Polaris, coordinated with the cruisers.”
“With that much speed?” Kenyon said. “Polaris will be able to dance out of the way in a second!”
“Get that network up and running, Sam! Before we manage to throw away victory. And what's the story with our combat systems?”
“Undergoing recalibration now, sir. I think we might just have them ready in time for our first pass, but our accuracy is going to be a lot lower than I'd like.”
“As long as we get our shots in.”
“I wouldn't worry,” the sneering Schmidt replied. “Arcturus and Cygnus are going to be doing your job for you. They haven't managed to infest their ships with traitors.”
“Get off the bridge, Lieutenant, and...”
“No,” she replied, glaring at the guards. “When this all goes wrong, I'm going to be here to watch it as an independent witness, and you'll have to arrest me to stop me.” Taking a step forward, she added, “And I don't think either of the guards will voluntarily do that. Not given the risk they're running. I have sealed orders from Commodore McGuire that cover precisely this eventuality.”
Rising from his chair, Mike walked over to her, and said, “To take command?”
“To place you under arrest for treason if, in my opinion, such an action is justified.” She looked at Dietrich, and continued, “Don't you understand, Commander? Either you or Lieutenant Dietrich is a traitor to the Federation. There are saboteurs on board with command-level access...”
“Such as yourself,” Dietrich said, barely looking up from his work. “And I can't help but notice that I'm the only one trying to bring these systems back on.”
“If anyone is interested,” Kenyon said, “Cygnus and Arcturus are nine minutes from contact. Polaris has altered course sufficient to miss intercept with Purple and Orange Squadrons.”
“I've got them!” Dietrich said. “Command network coming back up. I've managed to slice my way through the firewall.” Reaching for the console, he added, “Orders, Commander?”
“Have all fighters form on Polaris for the second sweep,” Mike said. “Never mind blocking Polaris' retreat now. Cygnus and Arcturus can manage that if they alter course following their flyby. We'll have to finish the job if they can't.”
“No,” Schmidt said, shaking her head. “He's rigging the battlespace to let Polaris escape. I don't know what his plan is, but you can't let him complete it. Order the fighters to converge on Polaris, sphere formation, and to fire at will.”
“Are you crazy?” Kenyon replied. “We could lose a couple of dozen fighters to Polaris' defense batteries on that approach pattern. You'd be throwing away countless lives for nothing!”
“Better that than allow the rebel forces to escape.”
Mike pulled his pistol from his holster, and fired three shots into the deck, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone on the bridge. Before she could say a word, he leveled his pistol on Schmidt, careful to cover the two guards at the same time.
“We are at battle stations!” he said. “Don't you get it? This is what the rebels want! Division, disorder, chaos. That's what's going to allow them to escape, not petty disputes about strategy. I am the Commander of this ship, and the decisions are mine, and mine alone. If anyone has a problem with that, then they can leave the bridge right now. Schmidt, you can stay, but you will do so under arrest. Sergeant of the Guard, if she makes a single hostile move, don't wait for the order. Shoot to kill. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, comfortable certainty returning to his face.
“You are making a terrible mistake,” Schmidt said, desperation in her eyes. “For God's sake, you're risking all the lives on Cygnus and Arcturus.”
“Issuing the new orders to the fighters,” Dietrich replied. “They'll have to burn pretty hot to catch up now, sir, but it should throw Polaris off nicely.” He looked up at the display, and added, “It might be academic in any case. My board shows them hitting the defense network again, three minutes after the first strike from Arcturus and Cygnus. And there's no way they can escape the planet without crossing into hostile territory.”
Nodding, Kenyon added, “We're five minutes behind the first wave, Commander. I can try and build up some more acceleration...”
“Leave it as it is, Lieutenant. Our fighters are going to have enough problems as it is.”
“That's for certain,” Schmidt replied.
Mike returned to his seat, glancing back at Schmidt, now closely flanked by the two guards, her holster empty, her pistol now in the Sergeant's hand. As he turned back to the display, he spotted something on the planet, an energy reading that shouldn't have been there. He looked at Dietrich, frowning over his controls.
“I see it,” he said. “Wait one.”
“I can't, Sam. What's the story?”
“Damn it!” Dietrich said, slamming his hand on the console again. “Fighters! Fighters on the surface, and they're seconds away from launching.”
“That just isn't possible,” Petrova said.
“Don't bet on it,” Mike replied with a sigh. “They've sprung their trap, people. Now we have to smash our way through it.” He turned to Arcturus and Cygnus, still racing towards Polaris. If nothing else, it was going to be close. And they'd have the best seats in the system to watch the coming battle. Until they could reduce the range and get their fighters back into formation, there was nothing they could do.
Chapter 19
“Grey Squadron Scramble!” Kani yelled, waving his hand in the air as his canopy locked into position. Above them, the storm continued to rage, dark clouds ha
nging in the sky, blocking them from the stars above. As his canopy sealed, a thunderclap roared, a herald of their imminent launch. He looked at his sensor display, watching with disbelief as the enemy formation moved into position overhead. One fast burn, and they'd be in perfect position to strike the two leading cruisers before they could make contact with Polaris.
Running his fingers over the controls, he checked the status updates on the boosters one more time, looking at the huge solid-fuel rockets that had been strapped to the rear of the fighters. It would be the wildest ride of his life, testing his ship beyond its design limits, but if it worked, they'd be in orbit in a matter of minutes.
“Launch on request,” Kani said. “Try and hold your formation, but do what you have to do. Mel, you strike Arcturus. Diana, take Cygnus. I'll fly reserve. Major Morgan, are you ready?”
“Shuttle ready to go,” the rebel leader replied. “We're all set to kick butt and take names, Squadron Leader. Just say the word.”
“Consider it said. Going for launch. Now.” He slammed on the lateral thrusters, sending his fighter struggling into the air. He didn't have the fuel to hold her there for long, but one slight adjustment was all he needed, reaching to a key to unsheathe the power of the boosters to his rear. As warning sirens wailed, the colossal rockets fired, slamming him back into his couch as his acceleration surged, the boosters joining with his own engines to hurl him into the sky, speed furiously rising.
Through his viewscreen, he caught a half-dozen flares all around him, the rest of the squadron rising from the dead Montevideo, a cluster of phoenixes rising from the ashes of the lost starship, avenging its destruction at the hands of the enemy. The fighter rocked from side to side, caught in the furious winds of the storm, then cutting through the clouds to reveal the stars above.
On and on his rose, leading his squadron into battle once again, struggling against the crushing acceleration to work his controls, to manipulate the thrusters to hold him on trajectory. Overhead, the two cruisers continued their cautious movement towards Polaris, as though their commanders couldn't quite believe the threat that was rising from the planet to face them. He couldn't see any fighters close enough to intercept, though more than a hundred were in orbital space, ranging with the cruisers towards Polaris.
“Grey Leader to Polaris Actual,” Kani said. “We're on the move, Commander. Preparing for intercept. Recommend we join you in the battlespace, estimated contact in four minutes.” A warning light snapped on, alerting him to dangerous stress on the outer hull. “Going to be a short life and a merry one, sir, but we're going to reach you in time.”
“Roger that, Grey Leader,” Curtis' voice said. “Good to hear from you. Timing perfect. Concentrate your fire on the engines of the enemy craft. We'll provide fire support on the first pass, try and keep the enemy defense systems off your back. Make a quick pass, then come around the planet for another intercept, and for God's sake, watch out for enemy fighters. We read them forming on Canopus, so stay well clear. We'll deal with them when we can.”
“Roger, Actual, message received and understood.” He glanced across at his sensor display, noting with satisfaction that the squadron had risen out of the worst of the atmosphere, the pressure outside starting to thin, easing the force battering into their hulls. “Leader to all pilots. Hit them hard and make it count. Watch your targets. We're only going to get a single shot at this.”
“Copy, Leader,” Nguyen said. Kani was drawing ahead of the rest of the squadron, his initial burn giving him a slight edge over the others. He was already clearing out of the upper atmosphere, the stars shining once more as he soared clear of the planet below, the acceleration fading away as the booster burned out, separating from the rear of the fighter with a loud report.
The sensor display was clear now, targets shining on the panel. Arcturus and Cygnus, both less than two minutes away, closing on Polaris. He'd trained for attacks on Federation Starcruisers for his entire career, but this was the first time he had ever had the opportunity to launch an attack run for real. He ran over the schematics in his mind, going over the countless simulations they had run in the past, preparing himself for battle.
A Starcruiser was a mighty creature. The largest warships ever conceived, twice the size of the Commonwealth Monitors upon which he had served. They bristled with mass drivers and particle beams, defense systems that in theory should be able to shoot down any missile launched against them, plucking the fighters out of the air at the same time.
In theory. Not reality. Reality was always a very different beast.
With Polaris watching his back, launching suppressing fire, he'd have a chance of weaving through the defenses. Both sides would be hurling kinetic projectiles and bolts of energy into the battlespace, and he'd have to hold his missiles until the last second, but he'd still be able to press his attack home. He looked up at his sensors, a frown spreading across his face. The enemy fighters were moving into position a lot faster than he'd hoped, and they'd be a real threat in a matter of moments, his onward trajectory linking frustratingly close to theirs. Keeping clear would require most of his fuel, but that was for later. For now, the rest of his squadron was managing to catch up, only Jones still lagging behind, caught at the rear of the formation.
“Right, people. Enemy ahead. Watch your backs, and break and attack!” He rested his hand on his throttle, keeping a tight grip on the particle cannon controls. There was no point wasting his energy at this stage. His missiles would have to suffice, and the panel on his right flickered into life as the targeting computer began its work, homing in on the chosen systems, ready to commit to the attack. The massive real-space engines, fusion drives powerful enough to push the half-mile-long hulks through space, loomed at the rear of the craft. Those were the target. After a second's hesitation, he'd chosen Arcturus, taking Jones' place, trusting that she could pick her way through the fire to whichever ship seemed least damaged at the end of the ride.
As he closed the distance, space erupted in flames all around him, kinetic projectiles hurled into space at extreme range colliding with the first salvos from Polaris' particle beams, lancing out to pick off the targets before they could do damage. Kani tapped a control, throwing his fighter in a wild dance as his random walk program began, watching the sensor screen as his ship tried to pick a safe path through the clouds of debris all around him. Amber warning lights winked on, his sensors struggling to cope with the mass of data rushing through the feeds, threatening to catastrophically crash his system.
He reached for the manual override, ready to engage it if necessary, though it would be an act of sheer desperation to disengage the autopilot at this stage, while his fighter was dancing towards his destination. Another alarm sounded, heralding an attempt by Arcturus' sysop to hack into his system, and he reached across to firm up his firewall, severing his communication with the rest of the squadron. Until he'd completed his flyby, he was on his own.
Back on the planet, he'd been seconds ahead of the others, and he'd continued to gain speed, moving far enough ahead of the rest of the formation to serve as a lightning rod, drawing the worst of the defensive fire on himself as he pioneered a path to his target. He reached down for the launch controls, enabling the firing computer, ready to unleash both missiles at the correct time. Ahead, Arcturus rolled, her pilot desperately trying to evade the impact he knew was coming, Kani matching him move for move with his superior maneuverability.
Forty seconds to target. He risked a look at the sensor, spotted Jones moving back into formation, sacrificing fuel endurance to press home her attack with the others. The image was faded, blurry, and one glance at his damage control monitors revealed the reason. It was raining rocks outside, and while he could move around the larger ones, a slurry of stony shrapnel was sweeping space, rattling onto his hull with enough force to damage his more sensitive systems.
“Come on, old girl,” he muttered. “Just a little
further.” He glanced down at the medium-ranged sensors again, the sight of a hundred-plus fighters approaching unnerving, and focused again on the task at hand, Arcturus now large enough to easily show up on the screen. One good hit would do the job. Just one. Finally, at the last second, the two missiles raced away, sending the fighter bucking to the side as they surged to maximum acceleration.
The enemy helmsman was good. Very good. The explosion rippled through the flank of the ship, but a last-microsecond turn had blocked the impact, sending it hammering into non-critical systems, floating bodies drifting clear from the crew quarters he'd destroyed. Cursing under his breath, he watched as Nguyen and her flight moved into position, his friend dropping back to the rear of the formation.
He couldn't wait for them, but he could throw a brief scare on the approaching fighters, diving towards them for a moment before adjusting his course to throw him on a polar orbit, well clear of the cluster of ships heading his way. Over on the far side, Montgomery, Voronova and Jones fired their missiles at Cygnus, loud war whoops echoing over the speakers as one of the warheads hit home, slamming into the primary engine, instantly cutting her acceleration. Now Polaris could decide on the time and place of combat with one ship, at least, but while Arcturus was still under power, that didn't mean a thing.
At the same instant, Keller and Carr released their warheads at the lumbering ship, firing a dispersed wave that immediately fell to short-range defensive fire, the particle cannons crashing into them, tearing into Carr's fighter at the same time, before the luckless pilot could bail out. One pilot dead, and they'd been in the firefight for less than a minute.
He looked at the squadron status panel, the final readings from Carr's ship frozen in time on the display, lingering on the last telemetry received. Glancing at Nguyen's status report, his eyes widened, a swarm of red lights filling her board, damage sustained to her engines and sensor controls.
Starcruiser Polaris: Nothing Left To Lose Page 15
