Blood on the Stars Collection 1

by Jay Allan

  Junus…gone…

  She had watched as her fighter corps commander died. Ellian Junus had been the most gifted pilot she’d ever known, a master tactician. Yet, he’d met his match in a one on one contest against a Confederation pilot. Her people weren’t supposed to accord the Confeds any real respect as warriors, but even after she destroyed the enemy ship, she knew she would always think differently about them. She was about to do what she’d been sent to do, and her success would be the start of a new war. Part of her wanted to withdraw, to pull back to Alliance space. It would mean disgrace, the end of her career. Perhaps even a firing squad if she was found guilty of cowardice in battle. Was that too great a price to save millions of lives?

  Uncle Taks…he saw some of this, and he tried to tell me…

  Still, she knew that her mentor would be disgraced too if she withdrew. And for all she ached for the losses her people had suffered, for all the questions she’d begun to ask herself about the codes she’d followed blindly since childhood, she knew she didn’t have it in her to rebel. She was what they had made her, and if there had been another road, the branch to it was long behind her.

  “All stations…prepare for battle.”

  “All stations report ready, Commander.”

  “Arm all batteries…prepare to fire.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Here I go, Uncle Taks. One more victory, a new round of medals, a promotion. More glory for the Regulli. And my gift to the Alliance. Another war.

  She felt the force from the thrust pushing her into her chair. Invictus was damaged, but most of her batteries were operational, and the reactors were at almost ninety percent. They were fragile, held together by makeshift repairs, but the enemy was in far worse shape.

  She’d watched her fighters attacking, braving the danger to fire their torpedoes. They had been trapped by the pursuing enemy interceptors. There had been no chance of escape. But it was one thing to acknowledge they were as good as dead…and another to order them to make suicide runs at the enemy vessel.

  It was a testament to Alliance culture and training that she’d been able to give that order…and even more of one that the pilots had accepted it without question. She’d fought all her adult life, and she’d lost many subordinates, ordered them into desperate situations. But this was the first time she’d explicitly commanded her people to die for her. She knew she would carry the weight of it all her life, that she would never forget those few terrible moments.

  “Firing range in three minutes, Commander.”

  “Very well.”

  She felt a momentary flash of anger, a reaction to Wentus’s strident tone. Her exec was a gifted tactician, an accomplished warrior. She respected him, and she had some vestigial affections for him too. She considered herself fortunate to have him on Invictus. But now she saw him differently, and she found herself repelled at the herdlike behavior he displayed. That all of her crew did.

  She knew she was as much a product of Alliance culture as they were, but as she looked around the bridge, she saw no doubt, no hesitation. Just mindless adherence to the propaganda they’d been fed their entire lives.

  They are what they are. It’s not their fault. And are you better, superior in some way because you question things…and then follow the same doctrine they do? Or are you worse?

  “Two minutes to firing range.”

  “Active scanners on full. I want the damage assessments updated every thirty seconds.” Her scanners had picked up the torpedo hits, and the last fighter impacting into the enemy vessel. The energy readings were massive, and the damage had to be too. But that was all conjecture. And she wasn’t going to underestimate her enemy.

  Not this enemy…

  “All batteries are to open fire immediately upon entering range.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “All damage control parties to their stations.” Her crew expected to move into range and dispatch a crippled enemy. But Kat wasn’t so complacent.

  Even a mortally wounded animal is dangerous. More dangerous…

  “Yes, Commander Rigellus.”

  She stared straight ahead. Kat had gone into battle many times, but she was edgy now in a way she’d never been before. She could feel it in her gut. But her devotion to duty was in control.

  “Launch a spread of probes, Optiomagis. I want an intensive scan of the enemy vessel and the space in front of us.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Kat could tell Wentus thought her caution was excessive. But right now, she didn’t give a shit what he thought.

  * * *

  “We had to handle it manually, sir, but we got it done. All units are away, and we got close to the deployment plan. At least, I think we did.”

  Barron had his hand on the earpiece of his headset. “I don’t know how you did it, Atara, but it’s just one more reason I’m fortunate to have you as my exec.”

  “I wouldn’t trade it for any posting in the fleet, sir.” A short pause. “We did suffer two casualties, Captain. Specialists Linmore and Halston. The bulkheads down here are badly stressed, and one of them gave out. They were both blown into space before we could get to them.” He could hear the pain in Travis’s voice. He knew she blamed herself for the dead crewmen.

  “Atara…” He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t at fault, not by any reasonable measure. But she would take the responsibility no matter what he said to her. “You did well,” he finally added, wishing he had something better to say.

  “Thank you, sir.” She sighed softly. “With your permission, I’ll go check on Commander Fritz. She’s working on the reactors.”

  “I don’t need to tell you how critical her success is, Atara. Whatever Fritzie needs, give it to her. Our survival is in her hands now.”

  “Yes, Captain. Travis out.”

  The last fighter had hit Dauntless hard, slamming into the ship’s hull at enormous velocity. Much of the kinetic energy transformed into heat, melting and buckling whole sections of the hull. Chunks of shattered debris drove deeply into Dauntless’s guts, ripping through deck after deck, crushing systems and equipment…killing crew.

  Barron knew that could have been the end, that it still could be. But as bad as the damage was, it could have been far worse. Hundreds of kilometers of cable, piping, conduits, and cooling lines had been severed, chopped up into half-melted scrap. But the reactor cores themselves were intact, and the accelerator tubes for the primaries were unaffected. Dauntless was out of action, dead in space with both reactors scragged. But they were repairable. If there was time.

  “Captain, we’re picking up energy readings from the enemy ship.” Darrow turned to look over at the captain’s station, and Barron could see the horror in his eyes. “They’re accelerating, sir. Directly toward us.”

  Damn…if we had an hour. Even half an hour…

  “Projected time until enemy enters firing range?”

  “Four minutes, Captain.”

  Barron reached up and tapped the side of his headset, toggling up Fritz’s direct line. “Fritzie, I need reactor power in two minutes or we’re all dead.” It was blunt, brutally so, but there wasn’t time for anything else.

  “I might be able to get one of the reactors started, but there are bound to be leaks everywhere. We’ll most likely flood half the ship with radiation.”

  “Do it.”

  “Sir, a cold start like that has a lot of risks. It could scrag the reactor permanently. It could blow us up.”

  “Fritzie…do it.” Barron’s voice was firm, dripping with confidence. But he suspected Fritz saw right through him, that she knew it was all pure bullshit.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He heard her shouting orders over the still-open channel. Then he flipped to the shipwide line. “Attention all personnel. We are about to do an emergency reactor restart. We are likely to experience radiation leakage in multiple locations. Pay attention to your rad detectors. Abandon and seal off al
l non-essential compartments that are affected.” He paused for a moment then added, “It is my honor to be your commander. I won’t lie to you. We’re in a tough spot. But if we pull together, if every man and woman does his best, I have no doubt we will prevail. Now, I need everything each of you has to give.”

  He cut the line, slumping back in his chair. He didn’t like lying to his crew, but he knew that was what they needed from him now. And much of what he said was the truth. He did believe his crew was the best in the Confederation. But he still had doubts about the outcome of the battle. He could rally his crew, but he couldn’t fool himself. The odds were long. Still, none of that mattered. He was a Barron…and no matter what he was facing, he was determined to make that mean something.

  Are you with me, Granddad? Because I sure could use your help now…

  “Two minutes, thirty seconds to firing range.”

  Barron took a deep breath. “Fritzie…now…we’re out of time.”

  “Just a few more seconds, sir.”

  Barron sat motionless. The bridge was silent. It seemed as though no one even drew a breath.

  The seconds passed, slowly, torturously. Then: “Restarting reactor A.”

  Barron sucked in a deep breath. In a few seconds his ship would have power. Or he would know the battle was truly over.

  He stared around the bridge, waiting. And then the main bridge lights came on. His eyes darted to his screen, to the power level monitors. Reactor A showed as operational, producing power at eighty-eight percent.

  “Fritzie, you’re a sorcerer, do you know that?” His eyes were still on the display, watching as the radiation reports scrolled down the screen. There were leaks, a lot of them. In the compartments of his ship, from engineering to weapons control to the AI core, his people were at their posts, ignoring nearly lethal concentrations of radiation. He was overwhelmed, with pride in the men and women he commanded, and with sadness, bitterness that such fine officers and spacers of the Confederation were slowly dying, even as they executed his commands.

  Just win the fight…Stu and his people can treat the radiation cases…

  “Two minutes to firing range, sir.”

  “All available power to engines, Lieutenant. Maximum thrust, directly away from the enemy.”

  “Maximum thrust, Captain…now.”

  Dauntless shook wildly, and Barron felt the pressure of the acceleration pushing him back into his chair for a few seconds before the partially-functioning dampeners kicked in and brought some relief.

  He stared down at the display, his eyes darting back and forth between the enemy ship and Dauntless. There was nothing in between, no icons, no symbols. His scanners weren’t picking up a thing. But he knew they were there. Ninety-four fusion mines, every one of them launched into space by his first officer and a crew of spacers. By hand. And every one of them equipped with stealth technology.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  CFS Dauntless

  Krillus Asteroid Belt

  40, 000,000 kilometers from Santis, Krillus IV

  Year 58 (307 AC)

  “They’re running, Commander.” Wentus said, his voice taking on a feral tone. “They’re accelerating directly away from us.”

  “Very well, Commander.” Kat sat still, devoid of the excitement that seemed to be taking her crew. They viewed an attempt at escape as cowardice, as a sign the enemy was beaten. She wasn’t so sure. Her gut was screaming, telling her to let her adversary go, that she could hold Santis without destroying the battered enemy battleship. But her orders were clear.

  Still, this enemy commander was no coward. He was no fool either. If he’d wanted to run, he’d had plenty of time to do it.

  What is he up to?

  “Status of probes?”

  “Scanning data unchanged, Commander. Significant outer hull damage to enemy vessel. No other contacts.”

  Kat paused for a few seconds. Something was wrong, she could feel it. But her orders left her no choice.

  “All power to the reactors, Optiomagis.” Her engines were still badly damaged. She had no more than half Invictus’s normal thrust available. But the enemy ship was damaged also, its own acceleration far below normal. She had enough thrust to close, if she moved now. She couldn’t let her prey get a head start. It was time to finish this.

  “Advise engineering we need the maximum thrust they can give us.” She paused. “Suspend all safeties. Full power to the engines.”

  “Full power to the engines, Commander.”

  Kat tried to keep the frown from her face as she caught Wentus’s tone, his arrogant approval of her aggressive command. She wondered if the easy victory her first officer expected would materialize. Or if, as her instincts were telling her, Invictus still faced a serious fight.

  She leaned back as she felt the force of the acceleration. One way or another, soon she would know…

  * * *

  “The enemy vessel is accelerating, sir. They are matching our vector and pursuing.”

  Barron sat in the center of Dauntless’s bridge, bolt upright, unmoving. He’d tried to appear relaxed, calm for his crew, the model of the unflappable captain…but it had proven to be too much of a deception to maintain. His crew needed to see him focused and in control. But none of them were stupid enough to think he was calm.

  “Very well, Lieutenant. Continue course and thrust levels.”

  Barron’s com unit buzzed. It was Fritz.

  “What is it, Fritzie?”

  “I’ve got reactor B ready to restart. I doubt I can get it much past fifty percent output, at least at first. But it’s enough to give you more thrust than the enemy has now.”

  Escape. Fritz was offering him a chance to get his battered ship away from the enemy. He shook his head. Running wasn’t an option. But looking like he was running…

  “Negative, Fritzie.” He didn’t want to risk his energy readings spiking, scaring off the enemy. He needed them to pursue. “Get everything ready…but don’t restart. Not until I give the order.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fritz’s voice was non-committal. Like many ship’s engineers, she tended not to see things beyond the confines of her engines and reactors. Tactics was the province of the captain, and hers was to see he had the technology and equipment he needed ready.

  “How about the primaries?” Any fix to Dauntless’s main guns was likely to be fragile and short-lived. But if things went according to plan, even one good shot could be the difference between victory and defeat.

  “Lieutenant Carson’s team is working on them now, sir. Commander Travis is there too. They’re replacing power conduits, but the accelerators themselves appear intact. We should be able to get them online in the next twenty minutes, sir. Though I can’t promise how long the repairs will hold.”

  “Thanks, Fritzie. And good job getting the reactor ready so quickly.” He was genuinely surprised at how speedily her people had finished the repairs. He suspected it was a patchwork of temporary fixes, but if Fritzie said the reactor would restart, Barron had no doubt that it would restart.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Very well…carry on. Barron ou…wait, Fritzie…” Barron was deep in thought. He’d been trying to put himself in his enemy’s head, wondering what he would do if the roles were reversed.

  Alliance culture is aggressive, warlike, so they won’t retreat. Probably not at all, but certainly not when they think they have the edge…

  “Fritzie, I want you to eject some reaction mass…and some radioactives too.”

  “Sir?”

  “I want you to release some fuel into space. Not a lot, maybe ten percent of what we’ve got left. And I want some wastes from the reactor ejected too. And push reactor A a little harder. Get me five percent more thrust.”

  “Ah…yes, sir.” A short pause then understanding dawned. “Yes, sir! I’ll have it done immediately.”

  “Carry on. Barron out.”

  He turned and looked at the display, his eyes focusing on the sm
all red oval moving steadily closer to Dauntless.

  It’s you and me…a game of chess for the lives of our crew. No, not chess. Poker. And I’m raising you now. Am I bluffing? Or do I have a hand after all? It’s your move…

  Barron sat stone still, his eyes unmoving, locked on the enemy ship. He realized he didn’t have the answer to his own question. Was he bluffing? Or would he have what he needed to win?

  He wouldn’t know, not until the very end.

  * * *

  “More readings, Commander. The enemy ship is leaking reaction mass. We’re also getting clouds of radioactive materials.” Wentus sounded like a predator, hot on the heels of its wounded and bleeding prey.

  “Very well, Commander.” The readings suggested the Confederation ship was crippled, bleeding air and fluids. That should have made her feel more confident, but it didn’t. She didn’t trust her adversary. He was smart, she was sure of that, in many ways, a match for her. Was he really trapped, on the verge of destruction? Or…

  “Commander, we’re getting strange data from the probes…intermittent readings, almost like shadows…”

  “Cut forward thrust!” Then, half a second later, “Now! Bring us around one hundred eighty degrees and decelerate at full.”

  Wentus looked stunned, but the officer knew how to obey orders, and Kat’s tone had been deadly serious. “Cutting thrust, Commander.”

  Kat felt the weightlessness of free-fall for an instant before the ship’s compensators reacted to the change and restored some semblance of artificial gravity to the bridge.

  “Re-orienting now, Commander. Commencing full deceleration.”

  Kat leaned back as she again felt the pressure of maximum thrust. It forced the breath from her lungs before, once again, her ship’s dampeners intervened, absorbing much of the direct force.

  “Probe data directly to my screen.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Kat watched as the reports came streaming in. It was just as Wentus had reported. Vague contacts slipping in and out. No real data, just a series of intermittent presences.