Refusing Excalibur

by Zachary Jones

  He looked at the destroyers, reading their names. Rogers, Ivanov, Ubeki, Takeda. Victor hated himself for what he was about to order them to do.

  He opened a channel to the destroyers. “This is Captain Selan on the Osprey. I’ll order my ship to go cold. If you can increase your emissions to match ours when the Osprey goes dark, you might trick the missiles into going after you, allowing us to slip past. Do you understand?”

  “This is Commander Faller of the Takeda,” said the most senior of the destroyer captains. “We read you. We’ll sync with your shutdown. Good luck, Captain Selan. We’ll save you a spot at the table.”

  “Roger that. And thank you.” Victor closed the channel. “Prepare for full shutdown.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Commander Dace said. “It’s a good plan.”

  “No, it’s a desperate one,” Victor said. He timed shutdown to happen one minute before impact. Enough time for the destroyer to get far enough away that the blast of the warheads didn’t threaten the Osprey but short enough to minimize the ruse being detected.

  “Shut down,” Victor said. All at once, the lights dimmed, the gravity cut out, and the drives turned off. In an instant, the Osprey became a drifting hole in space. Only her passive sensors, running on minimal power, told Victor what was going on outside.

  The destroyers boosted their output just as planned, masking the Osprey’s shutdown. As time passed, it became clear the ruse was working. The destroyers went down fighting, expending the last of their countermissiles in a single volley, buying themselves a few more seconds of life. Enough to swat down a few dozen Lysandran missiles with point-defense guns before being overwhelmed and destroyed. His passive sensors were blinded and, Victor hoped, so were the enemy’s by the glare of multiple detonations.

  “Begin venting atmospheric and fuel,” Victor said.

  “That’ll make us easier to spot, Captain,” Commander Dace said.

  “Yes, but it’ll also make us look more dead,” Victor said.

  Seconds later, before the glow of the detonations faded, the Osprey vented half her air supply and two-thirds her fuel, enveloping the warship in a cloud of expanding gas.

  When the glow faded enough to see, the fleet of Lysandran cruisers and destroyers became visible, and they were approaching fast.

  Victor took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. The bridge became very quiet as old instincts overwhelmed the knowledge that no amount of sound would give them away in the vacuum of space.

  Closer and closer, the Lysandran cruisers and destroyers closed on the Osprey. Behind them, the Fersfield 23 jump point was still lit up by the continuous flashes of ships jumping in, protected by the shadow cast by the shade.

  Victor ground his teeth; the nearest Lysandran warships were only seconds away. He prayed none of them would examine his ship too closely.

  They didn’t. No enemy warships changed their course to engage the Osprey. Before he knew it, the entire Lysandran vanguard was flying away.

  “I think we tricked them,” Commander Dace said.

  Victor let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I think we—” He noticed a pair of Lysandran destroyers turn around and decelerate at full power. “Shit.”

  Dace looked at her screen. “Looks like they didn’t fall for it.”

  “They fell for it, all right. If they thought we were still operational, they’d send missiles after us, not a pair of destroyers,” Victor said.

  “Captain, one of the destroyers hailed us. They’re requesting to know our status,” Lieutenant Herrera said.

  “Ignore them. We’re just a dead wreck. Let’s stay that way for as long as possible.”

  “Those ships are pulling 200 gs. They’ll catch us well before we drift close to the Fersfield jump point,” Commander Dace said.

  “Yeah, we’ll have to deal with them,” Victor said. Depending on how close the destroyers got, it could be a simple matter of just blowing them away with the main guns. But if they decided to fire a volley of missiles from standoff range, the Osprey would be in trouble. “Our best bet is to play dead until the last moment.”

  Dace nodded. “Okay, Captain. We just sit here, right?”

  “Bring the ship to reduced readiness. They won’t have much to do while the ship is powered down, but at least they can get some sleep,” Victor said. “You should join them.”

  “After you, Captain,” Dace said.

  He shook his head. “I can’t sleep in 0 g. You go ahead. I’ll watch things here.”

  Dace gave him a stubborn look. “If you’re staying on duty, then so will I, Captain.”

  He shrugged. “Have it your way, Commander.” He ordered reduced readiness, and several members of the crew floated from the bridge, to rest, to eat, and to prepare for the end.

  ***

  The crew’s rest ended when the lead destroyer fired a pair of missiles at the Osprey.

  “You think they figured it out?” Dace said.

  “No, they’d fire more missiles than that if they did,” Victor said. “They’re cleaning up a wreck. And they’re still accelerating toward us. They probably mean to blow us up on their way back to the main body of the fleet.”

  “We’ll be dead for real if we don’t do something about those missiles, Captain,” Dace said.

  “You’re right. Lieutenant Ryam, plot a firing solution for the PD guns on those missiles,” Victor said.

  “On it, Captain,” the gunnery officer said.

  “It’ll take a few minutes for us to power up enough to fire the point-defense guns, Captain,” Dace said.

  “I know, and, when they see us powering up, they’ll fire everything they have at us,” Victor said.

  “So what do we do?” Dace asked.

  “Power up our guns when they get close enough. We could dust them easily enough. Then we just deal with any missiles they get off before we destroy them,” Victor said.

  “That’ll be chancy, Captain,” Dace said.

  “Yeah, well, it’s all I got, Commander,” Victor said.

  Dace nodded. “I guess it’s just a question of when we want to start powering up.”

  He checked the tactical screen. “We want to be ready to fight the moment those missiles reach PD range.” Victor did some calculations on his console. “Which will be thirty minutes from now. It’ll take ten minutes for us to power the Osprey back up, so we’ll wait twenty minutes.”

  “Roger that, Captain. Power back up in twenty minutes,” Dace said.

  Victor looked to the helm. “Lieutenant Herrera, as soon as the main thrusters come online, vector for the destroyers.”

  “Roger that, Captain,” the ship’s pilot said.

  “All right, now we wait,” Victor said. And wait he did. For twenty minutes, he watched the missiles and destroyers approach on his tactical screen.

  “Begin power up,” Victor said. The destroyers were now close enough and moving fast enough that they could do nothing to keep from drifting into range of the Osprey’s guns. Other than trying to destroy the Osprey before she got a chance to fire.

  The lights brightened, and gravity returned. On his telemetry screen, the bars for the Osprey’s various systems climbed.

  “Missile launch, lots of them!” Commander Dace turned to Victor. “I guess they’ve figured out we’re not dead.”

  “I think you’ve guessed right, Commander,” Victor said. It would take several minutes for the new missiles to reach his ship. The first two missiles were a more immediate problem.

  “How long until you can shoot down those missiles, Ryam?” asked Victor.

  “PD guns will finish their cooldown in eight minutes, sir,” the gunnery officer said.

  Victor gritted his teeth; the time to impact was less than nine minutes. Come on, wake up, you big bird. You only need to fight for a little longer. He tried to will his ship into powering up faster, but the bars seemed to move up slower while the missiles continued to approach faster and faster.

  He forced himself to take
a deep breath, pushing down the icy fear forming in his chest. His impending death did not worry him but rather the threat of failing and leaving Savannah, and his wife and son, to the mercy of the Lysandrans.

  Victor became so focused on calming himself that he was startled when he felt his ship vibrate.

  “PD guns firing!” Lieutenant Ryam said.

  Streams of projectiles snuffed out both of the nearby Lysandran missiles.

  The Osprey turned toward the incoming missiles and the destroyers that launched them and fired her thrusters at full power.

  “Ryam, get rid of those destroyers as soon as they’re in range,” Victor said.

  “You got it, Captain. Firing solutions plotted.”

  The missile volley was two minutes out when the Osprey’s main guns fired a ten-round burst at each destroyer.

  The destroyers attempted to evade, but their efforts were futile. The Osprey's guns ripped both vessels apart. Now it was just the missiles that remained.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” ordered Victor.

  Lieutenant Colletta lurched the Osprey over, keeping the drives at full power. A trail of decoys followed the Osprey as her vector moved away from the missiles.

  Missile tracks on the tactical screen curved to follow the cruiser, though more than a few were homing in on decoys.

  When the range closed, the Osprey vibrated as her PD guns fired. Missiles flashed from existence as the swarm was thinned out. Three missiles, then two missiles, then just one.

  Something powerful slammed into the ship.

  Victor was thrown forward and then blown back into his seat by a gale of air. Then silence.

  Breathing was the only sound in his helmet, and the rapid beating of his heart was the only feeling his body registered. Only straps held him to his seat; artificial gravity was out. The only illumination came from the dull red emergency lighting.

  Victor tried to check the damage to his ship, but his screen was blank. He turned to Commander Dace. His second-in-command’s helmet was gone, along with the top of her head. Blood and brains floated from the ruin of her skull, all cast black by the red glow of the emergency lights as they boiled in the vacuum.

  Victor tried to jump away, but his restraints held him in his seat.

  After a moment’s paralysis, he keyed the ship’s comm. “This…this is Captain Selan. Any surviving crew, report!” No one responded; when he tried again, he noticed the comms were down. Everything was down.

  Victor unbuckled his seat restraints. The bridge may not be functional, but perhaps engineering was intact. If so, then he could still maneuver the ship. Put it on a collision course with the shade, save Savannah, save Gina and Alex.

  Floating, he turned to launch himself toward the exit. But found none, not even a rear bulkhead. Out the back of the Osprey’s bridge, he saw only stars.

  Chapter 3

  A Lysandran ship docked with the remains of the Osprey and took prisoner Victor and the twelve surviving members of his crew. Once on board, he was relieved of his helmet and the variblade his father had given him.

  Sharing a cell with his surviving crew, Victor sat with his hands manacled in front of him, lost in thought.

  He had failed.

  No way Savannah’s defenses could withstand the firepower of the fleet that had emerged from the Fersfield 23 jump point. Not with the bulk of the Republic Navy busy fighting around the Arcadia jump point a billion kilometers away.

  “Captain?” asked Spacer Second Class Hale, a man who didn’t look more than twenty years old.

  “Yes, Spacer, what is it?” Victor said.

  “Do you think Savannah’s still fighting?” he asked. The answer he wanted to hear was etched on his face.

  Victor didn’t give it to him. “No, Spacer. By now Savannah has surrendered. And we should hope that’s the case. Because I don’t want to see the homeworld bombarded from orbit. Do you?”

  The hope drained from Hale’s face. “No, sir.”

  Victor smiled. “Don’t worry, Spacer Hale—”

  An Imperial Marine rapped the bars with an armored fist. “No talking!” she said.

  Victor had to settle for nodding reassuringly at his crewman.

  Eventually, though Victor wasn’t sure after how long, Lysandran guards escorted him with the survivors of his crew from their cell. However, they were separated from him, and the guards placed him on his own shuttle.

  After a short flight, the shuttle docked with a Lysandran battleship. There he was taken to an interrogation room. It was all gray metal, with a matching table and two chairs in the middle. He sat with his hands manacled to the table.

  It seemed pointless to interrogate him. They’d won. What could he possibly know that could be of value to them at this point?

  When the door opened, however, it wasn’t a Lysandran interrogator who came in, but a lean woman who looked just a little too young for her blue Imperial admiral’s uniform, along with an armored Imperial Marine.

  “Captain Selan,” she said.

  “Admiral, sir.” Victor pulled at his manacles. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t stand and salute.”

  She nodded and took a seat. “It’s quite fine, Captain. It’s good to see you haven't abandoned military courtesy in defeat.”

  Victor shrugged. “Both my parents were naval officers. I guess I’m just hard-wired that way.” He squinted as he tried to place her face. Attractive, light brown hair, gray eyes. “Admiral Loris.”

  “Ah, I see you know of me,” she said.

  “I’ve read your dossier. Youngest full admiral in the Imperial fleet. Congratulations,” Victor said. Loris was barely eight years older than him.

  She smiled. “Why thank you, Captain Selan. I have to say, I must applaud your efforts in trying to destroy the Shroud. You came distressingly close to succeeding.”

  “But I didn’t,” Victor said. “Which begs the question, why did you decide to rescue me and my crew? It couldn’t have been from admiration.”

  She shrugged. “You’re right. I decided against blowing up your ship because it was still on a collision course with the Shroud and moving fast enough to cause real damage. Instead I had my fastest corvettes fly out to nudge your cruiser’s debris into a less dangerous course. The fact there were survivors to rescue was purely incidental.”

  Victor nodded. What was left of the Osprey had no doubt fallen into the sun by now. He remembered the name she used for the shade. “The Shroud, that was the thing you used to protect the jump point?”

  “Yes, an inspired piece of engineering.” Her smile became lopsided. “Not to gloat, but it was my plan to use the Fersfield system as a back door. However, the credit for the Shroud belongs with the Imperial engineers who designed it and with the emperor for approving of its construction.”

  “Yes, well…” Victor smiled sadly. “You certainly took us by surprise. I don’t suppose you could—”

  “Inform you on the status of your world?” She nodded. “Your Republic surrendered not long after our fleet moved in on Savannah.” The look Loris gave Victor was almost sympathetic. “There was no bombardment of your homeworld.”

  Victor nodded, relieved. “Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t be quite so grateful. I’m afraid you’re likely to spend a long time in a prison camp. Assuming you’re not tried and executed with your father.”

  Victor looked down. “You mean, the terror attacks, right?” He sighed. “Is that why you’re speaking with me?”

  “No, actually I just wanted to speak with one of the most infamous starship captains ever to wage war against our empire. You know you have more kills to your name than any other enemy combatant?” Loris asked.

  “I’m aware of my combat record,” Victor said.

  “You’ve gained quite a reputation among the ranks of the Imperial fleet. You’re not as well-known as your father, but neither are you hated the way he is. You’re quite well-respected, in fact. You were…unusually chivalrous in your commerce raiding.
”

  Victor shrugged. “The ships were valuable. Killing the crews would’ve just been a waste.”

  “You’re a practical man, Captain Selan. And, dare I say, an honorable one too. So unlike your Republic,” Loris said.

  Victor smirked. “The Lysandran Empire isn’t exactly a prime example of honorable conduct.”

  That seemed to irritate the Imperial Marine standing behind Loris. He moved toward Victor but was stopped by Loris’ outstretched hand.

  “Perhaps not,” she said. “This has been a…messy war. All the better it is over.”

  “Maybe,” Victor said. It was hard to see the bright side of losing a war.

  The door opened, and a junior Imperial fleet officer came in and whispered into Loris’ ear. Victor strained to listen but only heard unintelligible muffled sounds.

  Loris dismissed the junior officer with a wave. “Ah, it seems I’m not the only one who wishes to speak with you, Captain Selan. Emperor Magnus has heard of your exploits and wishes to see you personally. This is quite an honor.”

  The prospect of meeting the Lysandran emperor didn’t exactly appeal to Victor. The people of Savannah, Victor included, loathed Magnus Lacano. So much that, when each one of his sons died, celebrations would break out in the cities of Savannah. It was a well-justified anger. Magnus started the war because he thought the worlds of the Savannan Republic should belong to him.

  Victor looked down at his pressure suit. “I’m not exactly dressed to meet an emperor.”

  “No, but we can give you clean clothing to wear. I’m afraid we don’t have any Republic Navy uniforms, and it would be too much trouble to ship one aboard,” Loris said. She pulled out a tablet and pressed a button. Two marines, wearing duty uniforms instead of combat armor, walked in. “These two will take you to a cabin to get dressed. I’ll have a meal waiting for you. I’m sure you’re famished.”

  “Much appreciated, Admiral Loris,” Victor said.

  “It’s simple courtesy for an honorable foe. It…was a pleasure to meet you.” The admiral stood and left the room, followed by her armored bodyguard.

  The two unarmored marines unlatched Victor’s manacles from the table and escorted him to a Spartan, but comfortable, cabin. True to her word, food waited for Victor. Fruit and a cold sandwich.