Badger

by Kindal Debenham

  Point defense on both sides laced vacuum with brilliant gouts of plasma fire. Explosions marked the spots where incoming shells had been destroyed, while fragments of intercepted shots peppered the armor shielding the destroyers. Jacob watched the images of all four of his ships begin to show the yellow of minor hits, at first speckling the images like a fine golden mist. Streaks of golden damage reports appeared as glancing hits made themselves felt. One shot made it through to explode on Beagle’s top armor, but the ship did not seem to have suffered terrible damage.

  The Odurans had not fared as well. Two more frigates had been chewed apart by Wolfhound’s fire, and a pair of corvettes had been knocked out as well. Jacob bared his teeth in a feral grin as the corvettes closed to point blank range, their guns swiveling to target Wolfhound this time.

  Darts sprang from all four ships, bright projectiles that swept out toward the lighter craft. Jacob’s smile grew fierce as the sailjammers detonated near their targets. The DE sails on six of the Oduran ships went suddenly dark. Helpless to do anything but continue forward, the smaller craft swept past, firing frantically at the destroyers as they went. Their brethren who were still under power managed to put in a few more effective strike, including a shot that exploded on Wolfhound’s ventral armor and a shot that actually pierced the armor on Setter, but neither ship was crippled.

  Then the last of the Oduran destroyers swept in. It was a Warmace class vessel, intended for close range combat with heavy banks of railguns. The two Oduran frigates with it were Hatchet class ships that were formidably armed as well. It sidled past Beagle, firing a pair of volleys which Leon rolled his ship to avoid, and then headed straight for Setter. The Oduran was obviously intending the cripple Flint’s ship and steal the long-range firepower it bore from the squadron.

  Yet it had forgotten about the last destroyer in the squadron, the one whose guns had remained so far silent. Feist sped past Setter at the last moment, diving in at the enemy craft from above. The Odurans opened fire, though their chosen target was no longer available. They rained shells down on Commander Kenning’s ship, pelting the destroyer with a merciless barrage. Jacob’s eyes widened as the Feist’s defense turrets picked off nearly all of the shots; Laurie had definitely not forgotten her craft either.

  Then the Feist was in range, and both plasma lances fired. Twin beams of destruction carved through the Warmace class ship, gutting it as they twisted through its armor and hull with brutal ease. The frigates that had accompanied it did not escape either. At nearly point blank range, the heavy railguns on Feist’s upper and lower gun decks opened up with a triple volley that punched through their defensive fire and blasted through their armor. All three Oduran ships staggered past the Feist, and then the enemy destroyer tore itself apart in a massive explosion. The two frigates followed suit a moment later when Feist’s railguns reversed their aim and fired into the ships again.

  Squadron 43 continued past the wreckage of the Odurans that had attacked them, leaving only nine corvettes and one frigate functional in their wake. With six of those ships unable to maneuver effectively, the Celostian ships trailing behind Jacob’s squadron found the remaining Oduran craft easy targets. Commander Earley’s corvettes swooped in on the incapacitated enemies and sprayed them with precise bursts of railgun fire. The Knife class frigates under Commander Gibson engaged the remaining active ships. A roiling dogfight ensued as the Celostian ships hunted down the frantic remnants of the Oduran screen, and it was clear the Celostians would come out on top.

  Satisfied, Jacob turned his attention to the remainder of the Oduran chase element. He studied the situation, then activated his communications again. “Beagle, fall back and join up with Setter. Your target will be the damaged destroyer and the Brute class cruiser. Feist, accelerate and close with Wolfhound. Both ships set a course to intercept the Scythe class cruiser.”

  Acknowledgements rolled back from his ships as Beagle’s long-range guns opened fire again. The wounded Crossbow class ship tried to evade the shower of shells, but with its previous damage and the concentrated fire Isaac and Leon focused on it, the Oduran ship had no chance. Shell after shell hit home, tearing through the weakened armor and opening compartment after compartment to space. Explosions sowed the space around the ship with more shrapnel until its DE sails finally died and the destroyer was set adrift, broken beyond recovery.

  Meanwhile, the duel between the cruisers had not gone nearly as well. The Richard had been able to fend off a few of the incoming missiles from the Oduran cruisers, but at least two of them had gotten through. Richard’s decks were awash with flame, and Jacob could see ragged gaps in the ship’s armor where the enemies’ fire had breached the hull. It wasn’t likely the Celostian ship would survive another brutal wave of fire, and even as Jacob watched, Captain Carson brought the cruiser on a shorter intercept course, as if trying desperately to at least close to gun range and engage the enemy before his ship was destroyed.

  There was only one bright spot in the situation. Richard’s damage meant the Odurans were completely focused on its destruction. The Scythe was already lining up another wave of missiles to expand on the previous damage, and the Brute class ship which had so far remained out of range was now rapidly trying to close to bring its heavy railguns and plasma lances to bear on the Celostian cruiser. Neither noticed the threat descending on them from above, and that was just fine with Jacob.

  Setter and Beagle had formed up already, and their course bent toward the Brute class ship. They would come in slightly behind the cruiser and be forced to swing around in order to pursue it, but Jacob was fine with that. Those ships would hardly last for long at close range under a Brute class cruiser’s fire, and Jacob had no desire to lose anyone today. Wolfhound and Feist lined up a similar course to intercept the Scythe class, and then Jacob frowned. He shook his head and tapped his communications. “Feist, Wolfhound, bring your ships around on a more solid intercept with your target. That class of ship is vulnerable in close, and that’s where you’ll be strong.”

  Al-shira glared at him, but she nodded sharply. “Yes, captain, adjusting course.”

  Jacob grunted and waited for Feist to make a similar adjustment. For a long moment, it seemed he was waiting in vain. Feist continued to pull away from Wolfhound, following its previous course as if it had not heard the orders. The ship broke formation entirely before Commander Kenning finally responded.

  “Yes, Captain Hull. Engaging the enemy more closely.”

  Jacob released a sigh of relief as Kenning’s ship returned to Wolfhound’s side. Even with Wolfhound distracting her, he couldn’t have guaranteed the Scythe would not have lashed out at Feist if the distance had been large enough. He also could not have prevented the pounding Wolfhound would have taken facing the cruiser’s guns alone, and he needed both ships functional.

  Then Setter launched her missiles again, and Jacob’s attention was caught by the Odurans’ reaction. Both torpedoes shot out ahead, leaving the slower missiles behind as they accelerated up to maximum speed. Beagle opened fire a moment later, sending successive waves of high-speed railgun fire hurtling through space. The shells caught up to the missiles and passed them by before the torpedoes made contact with their target.

  The Brute class had barely awakened to the barrage descending on it from above when one of the torpedoes slammed into its hull. Setter’s projectile drilled straight through the layers of cerrafiber armor, plowed through the hull and decks beneath it, and then burst from the opposite end of the cruiser in a plume of debris and fire. Unfortunately, the second torpedo missed, slashing past the cruiser’s wounded bulk before swinging around on a course meant to bring it back to its target. Before it could make the turn, anti-missile flechettes caught the projectile, and bursts of electromagnetic fury burned the guidance systems to a crisp.

  The nightmare was not over for the Odurans yet. Beagle’s shells arrived a moment later. In most circumstances a few shells would have been harmless. However, Isaac seem
ed to have predicted the path of the torpedoes and targeted the general area of their impact. Shells slammed into the armor that had been torn and weakened by the torpedo, ripping the opening wider and punching still more holes in the cruiser’s skin. Jacob watched explosions wrack the warship and the defensive turrets swiveled to burn the incoming shots from space. The Brute class ship was soon awash in shrapnel, shell fragments and fading lines of plasma.

  Through the chaotic wave dove the three missiles launched from Setter. The cruiser’s sensors had to have seen them, but the flechettes it launched in response must have had trouble tracking them through the wave of debris. With a much larger—and more importantly, slower—target, the missiles had little trouble maintaining their own sensor contact as they shot through the cloud of metal and fire to impact.

  One missile exploded short of the target, a victim of a drifting shell fragment that had ripped it open. A second had the misfortune of curving too close to a defense turret; a twitch and a burst of plasma detonated it early, reducing it to a wave of shrapnel that gushed along the cruiser’s armor. The third missile, however, exploded right on target, igniting a gigantic fireball just forward of the hole the torpedo had punched. Jacob saw the cruiser stagger free of the explosion still intact, but the still-burning crater in its armor promised very little of the topside armament was still functional.

  After seeing the fate of its companion, the other Oduran cruiser tried to dive away from the approaching destroyers. Missiles sprayed from its dorsal hatches, curving around to track on the destroyers. Flechettes sprayed back in response from all four ships. None of the six projectiles made it any closer than halfway to his ships, and Jacob smiled as Wolfhound and Feist closed the distance to their target. He looked up and smiled at Al-shira.

  “Our turn, Commander.”

  She nodded, and a pleased smile formed on her lips. With a flick of her wrist, she activated her own communications. “Guns, target the cruiser. I want as many hits as possible on her top-side and the forward blade where she keeps her DE sails. Commander Al-shira out.”

  Jacob turned his attention back to his own projection as the destroyers dove in. Railguns spat a vicious burst of fire from Wolfhound’s gun decks, with the three heavy batteries targeting the missile bays on the Scythe cruiser’s upper hull and the high-speed guns firing at the forward DE sails. Plasma seared through space in response as the cruiser tried to stop the incoming shells, followed closely by counterfire from the small complement of railguns aboard the Oduran ship.

  The incoming shells focused mainly on Wolfhound and, to Jacob’s regret, the Countermeasures officer on his flagship was nowhere near Laurie’s equal. Most of the initial salvo was hastily aimed and quite a few shells shot off into space without coming close. Seven shells came in on angles which would guarantee direct impacts, however, and the defensive fire only got four of them. Even as their companions exploded short of Wolfhound’s hull, two more of them bounced off of the armor and detonated, spraying the cerrafiber plates with fragments and fire.

  The seventh shell slammed home just forward of the officer’s mess, drilling a short hole and exploding. Jacob was jerked against his harness as the shockwave traveled to the bridge, and he gritted his teeth as a splotch of red grew on the corresponding projection. He looked at Al-shira, who was conferring with her officers. She met his eyes and nodded. “Not enough to stop us, sir. Damage control parties are already sealing the area off.”

  He nodded and turned his attention back to the attack in time to see Feist slide out around Wolfhound and dive straight for the cruiser. Jacob shook his head; if he hadn’t known better, he would have suspected Commander Kenning had intentionally let Wolfhound take the beating instead of his own ship. Jacob tried to banish the suspicious thought and concentrate. His squadron could not afford to make a mistake at this point, not now that they were engaging larger craft at close quarters.

  Whatever his motivations, however, Kenning showed no hesitation in bringing his own weapons to bear on the fleeing Oduran cruiser. Both heavy railgun decks sprayed shots along the length of the cruiser’s missile bays, managing to pierce the point defense enough to batter the cruiser’s armor. Then Feist tilted up on one side to give both plasma lances a clear shot, and again two beams of horrible heat stabbed out toward the enemy.

  Both streams of plasma raked the cruiser’s flank, clawing at the Scythe class ship with talons of thermonuclear fire. Armor plating and hull metal glowed, melted and burst as the superheated gas tore through them. As Feist pulled away she left nearly the entire side of the cruiser ablaze. Twin furrows continued to belch secondary explosions and burning atmosphere, and the cruiser reeled away in clear distress as her crew attempted to put some distance between their now-exposed hull and Feist’s fire.

  Unfortunately for the Odurans, Jacob had no intention of letting them escape so easily. He opened his mouth to order Wolfhound closer, but he heard Al-shira anticipating him. “Close with the enemy cruiser and try to keep us in their aft. The guns don’t fire as easily back there, and we can continue to hit them where their armor’s weak.”

  The Helm acknowledged the instruction, and Wolfhound drew close to the enemy. Still trailing debris and trying to shield its wounded side, the cruiser presented the destroyer with an opportunity for a beautiful firing pass.

  Jacob smiled. “Wide open, Commander Al-shira.”

  “I know, Captain. But it’s a little too damn obvious, don’t you think?” She tapped her console. “Guns, fire the first shots at her rear compartments, then switch to the front blade again. We’ll stop her in space and let the rest of the fleet mop her up.” Another acknowledgement came back, and she arched an eyebrow at Jacob. “You’re not the only one who can command a ship, Captain.”

  Jacob grinned, and turned his attention back to the screen when the guns fired. The Odurans caught the first incoming shells easily, their defensive fire blasting the shells into oblivion well short of the armor. The next two volleys tore straight past the Odurans’ defenses and slammed straight into the fragile looking DE sail rigs that gave the cruiser its main source of maneuverability and acceleration. Rig spars broke like sticks in the hands of a cruel giant, and DE sails fell out of existence like spiderwebs in a gale. With a sudden jerk, the Scythe class ship hurtled helplessly through space, her main source of acceleration abruptly a collection of shattered metal and electronics only a repair yard could hope to salvage.

  At the same time, the Odurans took the chance to fire back. This time their target was Feist. The modified destroyer’s armament plainly worried them, and they poured every shell their guns could fire in Kenning’s direction. Under any other circumstance, a destroyer would not have stood up to that kind of close quarters fire from a cruiser, not even one designed to stand off and hurl missiles.

  Fortunately, circumstances had placed Lieutenant Laurie Bellworth in charge of the defense turrets on Feist. The Odurans aimed nine heavy railgun turrets at the destroyer and fired each no less than four times. The shells numbered close to forty as they closed on Feist, a terrible hail of destruction that would have made a cruiser cringe. A smaller ship would have been expected to try and outmaneuver the attacks, dodging as much as possible as the shots tracked along their course. At the very least, instinct would have demanded a reflexive jerk toward safety.

  Feist did not make a frantic last minute dodge. Kenning’s destroyer stood her ground, and a sudden brilliant display of plasma fire rippled out from her defensive turrets. The lines of superheated gas traced paths through space that suddenly bloomed with explosions. Shell after shell detonated as Laurie caught them, but still more shot past those dying blasts and kept coming. Laurie’s turrets swept in tighter, sharper arcs as the range decreased, and Jacob’s breath caught when he realized how many were left. It seemed impossible the ship wouldn’t take severe damage, and he wondered if this was how the first ship of his squadron would die.

  Then the shells were past, and Jacob stared at his screen. Not a s
ingle one had struck Feist. There hadn’t even been a glancing hit or a last minute intercept. Every shell that had been spared the turret’s fury was a clean miss, and the rest had been stopped short. He let out a low whistle and glanced at Al-shira. She was staring at her own screens in astonishment.

  Jacob triggered a communications burst directed in the destroyer’s vicinity. “Well done Laurie. Feist, come around and hit the cruiser again, then we’ll help the rest of the squadron take out the other cruiser.”

  “Negative, Wolfhound. Stay clear of the cruisers.”

  Jacob blinked at the unfamiliar voice until he recognized Captain Carson. He had enough time to begin to ask what the captain of the Richard was talking about when three torpedoes slammed into the bow of the Brute class ship. They tunneled through the entire length of the Oduran craft, breaking the superstructure of the warship into splintered, shattered wreckage before they tore free of the aft. As the projectiles left the cruiser, the Oduran ship’s sails went dark and its turrets stopped firing. The final barrage of railgun fire from the Beagle reached it a moment later, only to batter an already mortally wounded ship into an even more useless hulk.

  Jacob checked the origin of those three torpedoes and found the Richard charging into the fray. While it still trailed debris from the missile hits, the Crown class cruiser obviously still had some fight left in her as she closed with the Scythe class ship. It was clear Captain Carson was intent on revenge, but Jacob was not about to let the cruiser have all the fun. He opened a channel to Setter. “Commander Flint, change missile target to the Scythe class cruiser. Try to take out their guns and missile bays if you can.”