This swarmer too broke apart in the time he succeeded in inhaling, but its forward momentum cast the shards hurtling toward them. In a flash his and the other fighters were flung outward, thruster boosts accelerating them away from the dangerous debris. Acid rose into his throat when the motion temporarily became too extreme for the inertial dampeners to compensate.
The next instant he was drifting peacefully in the direction he had been headed. He hesitantly reached out and sought to increase his speed. The vessel responded per normal. It was once again his.
He blinked and tried to reorient himself. The entire event had lasted less than ten seconds.
From a sim chair in a small, dark room on the engineering deck of the Federation dreadnought SFS Leonidas, Morgan enjoyed a bird’s-eye view of the battlefield—the movements of a veritable ocean of ships, en masse an exquisite dance and one she knew well.
Quadrant Five, ten swarmers approaching SFS Salerno. Assuming control of SFF H4, H7, H11, H12.
She dove into four of the nine-hundred-sixty-eight fighters that had been wired for access by Stanley and equipped with arcalasers…and smiled. She now saw through each of the four cockpits and all of them at once. It was Stanley’s vision, yet it felt like hers.
Target X4117 — H4 shift vertical 17° z — H7 descend 90° pivot — H11 + W 2.1° — H12 shadow H11 + W 3.2°. Fire.
The alien craft exploded in 1.4701 seconds.
Target X4065 — all shift S 12° E. Fire.
1.5622 seconds.
She diverted the four fighters at varying gentler angles and released them.
Human pilots were physically incapable of executing the maneuvers these ships had executed. Not even she could manipulate the controls so rapidly and with so precise a touch. And while it hadn’t been much of a factor this time, the G-forces generated often degraded the pilots’ capabilities to an unacceptable degree.
Together with Stanley she not only could do it, she could do it with four ships at once. The combined, concentrated firepower directed at a single point on a swarmer’s oculus less than half a meter wide ripped apart the vessel in a maximum of two seconds, long before the fighters’ own shields were depleted, if their shields were stressed at all.
Four fighters for one swarmer sounded like losing numbers in the long game. But she intended to move fast.
She zoomed back out to the macro view to allow Stanley to identify another set of potential targets, then in a flash she was diving again.
Assuming control of SFF S8, S2, S12, S17.
“Metigen cluster in upper Quadrant Four is breaking through the forward line. We should plug the hole ASAP.”
Alex studied the map. “SF 56th Regiment has been kicking ass in Quadrant Three and they’re close.”
She tuned out Rychen’s execution of the order to watch the map. Out the viewport, the explosions and debris made it impossible to see with any clarity, but the map filtered out the thermal readings from overheated engine cores and scorched metal to present a chess board whose pieces were legion.
Valkyrie: Twenty-eight swarmers giving chase to SF#578 and #609 in Quadrant Nine.
Alex: Morgan, target swarmers moving Quadrant Nine bearing N 42° E.
“Requesting fighter support for SF 33rd Regiment in Quadrant Seven.”
She made a face at Gianno’s request. Morgan?
Morgan: I’ll handle both. No need to make the Marshal fret.
Based on her limited exposure to Field Marshal Gianno, Alex found the idea of the woman ‘fretting’ an improbable one and decided Morgan was being sarcastic per usual.
She let Rychen know the request was being met. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of her mother in the EASC holo manipulating sub-screens and motioning to several people who moved around her. It—
Morgan: Sh-fuh-mother of Mary!
Mia: Problem?
Morgan: Swarmer took out one of my fighters from behind while I was firing. Felt like my brain burst inside my skull.
Alex: Disengage and take a breath.
Morgan: I’m fine, I’m fine. Bastard’s going to pay.
Valkyrie: Two SDs and 60 swarmers have broken off from the main force in Quadrant Six, projected target is the carrier EAS Pearl Harbor.
“Admiral, we need to send two cruisers—recommend the Cantigny and Marengo—and at least four frigates to protect the Pearl Harbor.”
The Metigens aren’t stupid. They know a carrier is a low-value target when they aren’t already winning. They’re trying to draw ships away for some reason.
Who was that? Valkyrie?
Valkyrie: I concur. It is a sound strategic analysis.
Alex: But you didn’t say it?
Valkyrie: I don’t believe so.
Alex: Devon?
Devon: Little busy here trying to tell the Senecan defense arrays where to shoot. Cranky, paranoid ware.
Alex frowned but brushed the odd feeling aside. No time for it. “Scratch that. Tell the Pearl Harbor to retreat to Staging Point #3. It can return in a few minutes at a different location.”
46
KRYSK
SENECAN FEDERATION COLONY
* * *
CALEB EYED THE YOUNG MARINE—based on the moves she had executed she was clearly special forces—over the breech of his Daemon. “Same to you.”
“You’re here to take out O’Connell, right?”
“That is the plan.” His gaze flickered beyond her to see Noah struggling to his feet, hand at his throat. “You okay, man?”
“Ugh….” In lieu of speaking he managed a haphazard wave.
The woman didn’t turn around, but her words were plainly directed at Noah. “Back away from me and I won’t need to do that again.” He complied, stumbling backward to sag against the wall a safe distance away.
She jerked a tight nod, and as one they lowered their weapons. “Who sent you?”
“Do you care who sent me? Your general needs to be stopped before he takes one more single, solitary life.”
The ship lurched beneath their feet, sending them all thudding into the wall. He snorted a laugh. “Guess I did do some damage.”
“You mean your ship tearing through half the decks like an out-of-control levtram? Probably.” She exhaled harshly. “All right. This lift leads to the bridge. I was supposed to be coming to kill you, but instead I’m going to help you. O’Connell has completely lost whatever shred of sanity he may have previously retained. He’s up there raging and screaming and threatening to execute anyone who looks at him wrong. He already has executed two officers today.
“Only a couple of other people are left on the bridge—almost everyone’s gone to help with rescue efforts or to hunt you. I’ll distract him. Give me fifteen seconds, then come up. Start shooting, and I’ll take care of his shield.”
Caleb nodded in agreement, but Noah scowled. “Why are you helping us?”
“Because this cocksucker needs to die. I had plans to make it happen in any event, but with you here I might actually be alive after it’s done.” The floor bucked again. “We need to hurry. I’m fairly certain we’re in the process of crashing.”
Caleb gestured to the lift, and in a blink she had hopped on it and was gone. He studied Noah to determine whether he was recovered sufficiently for the final push…and decided the answer was ‘enough.’ “Like the Marine said, start firing and don’t stop until O’Connell is on the floor—then shoot down.”
“What about the other soldiers up there?”
“Hope our new friend keeps them under control. If not, we’ll worry about them once the general’s out of commission.”
Noah blew out a breath through clenched teeth. “Got it.”
The seconds ticked down to zero. He activated the lift and crouched low on its base; he sensed Noah mimic his stance behind him. As soon as they began clearing the floor of the bridge, he raised the Daemon and prepared to open fire.
O’Connell’s large frame was immediately identifiable in the center of the bridge.
The man flailed in agitation atop a central platform, arms thrashing around as the woman they followed up stood at parade rest beside him. Her eyes darted to them and her chin lowered a centimeter.
Caleb began firing.
The man pivoted toward them. The steady laser stream from Caleb’s Daemon lit up the man’s shield in fiery sparks as the man reached for the gun at his hip.
In a blur of movement the woman moved behind O’Connell. Her hands slipped into the waist of his uniform pants, yanked the shield generator out of its clip and tossed it clattering across the bridge.
With a roar O’Connell spun toward her. His outstretched arm whipped around to hammer his gun into the side of her head, and the force generated by his burly frame sent her flying through the air. She landed hard on a shoulder ten meters away and skidded into the front panel of a workstation.
Caleb leapt the final half-meter up to the bridge floor and continued to fire as he stood and closed the distance.
His next shot caught O’Connell in the right shoulder as the man reoriented himself in their direction. The next ripped clean through the abdomen. A shot from Noah came an instant later to slice open the left hip.
The man reeled, his face reddening to the color of crushed maraschino cherries. He waved the gun wildly at them while the other hand went to clutch his abdomen. He was yelling something, but Caleb couldn’t make it out for all the other yelling.
Caleb continued to advance forward as O’Connell’s shot missed him altogether. Three meters away. Time for the head shot.
He leveled the Daemon at the sweating skin between O’Connell’s disbelieving eyes and pressed the trigger.
Mission fucking accomplished.
There was no time to appreciate the heavy body collapsing to the floor, though, due to the new gunfire bouncing off Caleb’s shield from multiple directions. It was a top-of-the-line military shield, but it still had a limit. He spun and dove for cover behind the closest workstation.
“Stand down!” The woman’s voice bellowed with authority across the expansive bridge. “General O’Connell was conducting an illegal operation in contravention of Alliance orders and he has been relieved of command. Now this ship is going down, so I suggest you get yourselves to escape pods—on the double, people!”
Encouraged by the sound of feet pounding past them and the corresponding lack of gunfire, Caleb cautiously emerged from his meager cover. Their unexpected ally was standing in the middle of the bridge motioning the last of its occupants toward the exit using one arm while the other hung limply at her side.
“Thanks.” He stuck out a hand as he approached her. “Caleb Marano, Senecan Federation Intelligence, sent on behalf of Earth Alliance Strategic Command to terminate General O’Connell’s offensive by any means necessary.”
She stared at his hand for a beat then headed for the lift. “Captain Brooklyn Harper, Marine Special Operations. You can tell me how such a ridiculous proposition came about after we get to your ship and off this death trap.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Noah was chuckling as he rose to his feet from behind a chair.
Caleb cocked an eyebrow. “That was your cover?”
He peered down and ran his palms along his chest. “I’m alive and don’t appear to be shot, so yeah.”
Captain Harper had stopped to activate a control panel, which turned out to be a ship-wide broadcast system. “This is a general evacuation order. Proceed to an operating shuttle or escape pod. Hostilities against this planet and the people on it have ceased, so do not shoot your rescuers when they find you. That is all.”
Increasing instability in the framework of the Akagi, but no further gunfire, marked their sprint back to the Siyane. There was still forward velocity beneath their feet, so the cruiser was still flying, but it was unquestionably a doomed vessel.
Caleb re-opened the hatch, grabbed onto the bottom lip and hoisted himself up before offering Noah a hand. Harper did them the interesting courtesy of coming to attention outside. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Granted, Captain.” Despite a visibly injured arm and shoulder she climbed up and was inside faster than he could offer assistance.
Noah was easing into his seat when Caleb joined him in the cockpit. “Okay, so how are we going to get off this death trap?”
“Like this.” Caleb fastened his harness, reached over and fired the pulse laser.
As the Siyane was canted at a sixty degree downward angle, the laser tore through the floor, the two floors under it, and finally the hull to create a hole to the outside—which they promptly fell through, ricocheting between the jagged edges until they reached open sky. He engaged the impulse engine an entire five seconds before they would’ve crashed to the desert sand four kilometers below.
Noah relaxed in his seat. “That works.”
“Hold one.” Harper appeared in the cockpit. “Swing around so we can see the Akagi.”
“Sure.” Caleb arced to port until the cruiser came into view. Fire and dense smoke billowed from numerous cracks and two yawning holes; it listed badly to starboard and down forty or so degrees. Its trajectory would send it crashing into the desert safely away from the city, eventually.
Abruptly the triple impulse engines at the rear of the ship ruptured, sending blue-white flames mushrooming outward to consume the stern of the vessel. The shockwave rolled over them with a shudder, and the Akagi plummeted from the sky to crash tail first to the ground.
He looked over his shoulder. “Care to explain?”
The woman grimaced, but it seemed to be related to her arm rather than his question. “My contingency plan. I tried to raise a mutiny, but it failed due to sheer terror of O’Connell on the part of the crew. An engineer I did win over helped me wire the engines to overload on my signal. I didn’t want to use it with a full crew onboard, though I would have if this had gone on much longer. I wanted to give my fellow crewmen one more chance to do the right thing, but you guys saved me the trouble. So what now?”
Caleb held up a finger to silence her as he again contacted his sister.
On the way. How are you doing?
Fine, we’re fine. The air’s getting a bit stuffy and—but we’re fine.
I’ll hurry.
He had vaguely noted Noah filling their new companion in during the conversation, but when he turned to face Noah she had vanished. He glanced over his shoulder to see her circling the cabin, deep in conversation. If he had to guess, on finding herself freed of the communications block she was reporting the details of O’Connell’s actions up the chain of command.
Noah joined him in his glance and muttered under his breath. “I swear, if I wasn’t already in love, I would totally be in love right now.”
“Well it’s a good thing you’re already in love, because she would eat you for breakfast.”
“Agreed.” He nodded sagely and settled back in his seat. “Then Kennedy would eat me for lunch, and I would not survive the event.”
47
SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT
SENECA STELLAR SYSTEM
* * *
“IT’S NOT ENOUGH.”
Rychen’s stare bore into Alex from two meters away. Her mother’s holo lay just outside her peripheral vision, but she felt her virtual stare nonetheless.
“Ms. Solovy, from my perspective we are rather kicking their asses.”
“While I can’t be as optimistic as Admiral Rychen without being on the scene, from here it does appear to be going definably well. A bit more problematic on Romane, but we are holding our own.”
“Holding our own isn’t enough, Mom. This is it—our one and only chance. We will never be stronger than we are right now. If the enemy makes it through this battle to fight another day, if it limps away and licks its wounds and returns, on that day we will lose. Forgive me for the momentary arrogance, but I can see everything happening everywhere, and I am telling you we may be winning, but as it stands now we will not h
ave victory.”
“Alex, your arrogance has never been momentary—which is fine. What do you suggest we do about it?”
She scanned the large screen behind her. “Get me on one of the superdreadnoughts.”
Rychen nearly choked—on what, she didn’t hazard a guess. “Excuse me?”
In her head Morgan called her ‘bat-shit cracked’ and Devon hooted and Mia mumbled something about how she and Caleb truly were meant for one another. She ignored them all except for Valkyrie’s sentiment of support.
“Get me on one of the superdreadnoughts. Valkyrie says we can access the interior through one of the empty swarmer docks. We’ve been studying the pure Metigen code I copied non-stop, and we think if given direct access we can corrupt their operating code. Though they’re not a hive mind in the technical sense, the SDs are constantly communicating and cooperating—you’ve seen it happen. Our signal interference broadcasts are hampering them but not stopping them.”
She met Rychen’s gaze full-on. She had discerned hours ago that her mother trusted his battlefield judgment; if she could convince him, her mother would fall in line. “I can slow their shield and weapon reaction time. I can confuse their formations and maneuvers. Hell, I may even be able to get them to shoot at or crash into each other. I can insert errors into their code which will recursively degrade their programming until it’s nothing but gibberish. I can give us a victory, today and for all future days.”
The man regarded her silently for a long stretch, and she conceded that had she been a subordinate officer she would likely have melted to her knees under the weight of the scrutiny. Then he exhaled with a dry laugh. “Miriam, you didn’t tell me she was as crazy as her father.”
“An oversight on my part. She is easily as crazy as her father. Alex, this is insane.”
“Of course it is—but it’s also necessary.”
Rychen examined his own semi-circle of screens. “How do you propose we ‘get you on one of the superdreadnoughts’?”
Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection Page 120
