by Jay Allan
“Captain, it’s taking all we’ve got to keep life support going. Comm, scanners…it’s all part of the same problem. We’ve got massive power transmission breaks all over the ship. The good news is, given some time, it’s relatively easy to fix most of it. The bad news is, the only way to do it is one severed line at a time.”
“I know, Fritzie, but we’re totally blind. We need to see what’s going on. Without scanners or communications, we’re totally cut off.”
“The enemy stopped shooting at us, sir. That’s what’s going on. I have no idea what caused that, but it’s good, whatever it is. Because if those ships had kept up the pounding, we’d all be dead by now.”
“I know, Fritzie…but sitting here not knowing what’s happening…” He paused. “I’m grateful for whatever reprieve we got, but we were in the middle of a battle, one that wasn’t going very well.”
“Captain…even if I get you scanners, and I’m not saying I can, what difference would it make? We’ve got no engines, no weapons…and if one more thing goes wrong down here, we’re going to have no life support either. We’re down to battery power, and when that’s gone we’ll have none at all. So, my priority has to be getting one of the reactors at least partially operational.”
“You’re right, Fritzie,” Barron said softly. “The reactor is the priority.” He paused. “But try to get me some scanners too.”
* * *
Stockton watched as the Alliance frigate grew larger on his screen. He couldn’t have caught the thing from behind, but he was coming in at an angle, and his calculations had been true. He’d only have a few shots before he zipped by, and he had to make them count. Part of him understood the hopelessness of his mission…but he would never give up.
He glanced down at the screen, tapping at his controls. He was trying to find the best place to target his lasers…and then he realized his course was no longer true. He was going to go by before the frigate got there.
He didn’t understand. He’d checked and rechecked the calculations. Unless the enemy had changed its thrust.
Yes. The frigate had cut its engines completely. But why?
He looked at the full scan. Not only were the engines shut down…there were no energy readings at all.
He rescanned. The same result. The frigate’s reactor was on extremely low output…or it was shut down completely.
Then, suddenly, he understood. With the reactors down, there was no way for incoming fire to destroy the vessel. There would be no core breaches, no catastrophic releases of hot reaction mass. The only way to destroy the thing would be to blast it apart, piece by piece.
That would take a thousand hits from his fighter’s small lasers. Ten thousand.
Shit!
Stockton adjusted his course, cutting back slightly on his thrust and angling the engines to compensate for the enemy’s engine shutdown. He would follow through, take his best shot…but he knew now it was totally hopeless. There was no way his lasers could obliterate the entire frigate, and anything less would still leave a two hundred-thousand-ton mass slamming into Dauntless.
Stockton remembered enough of his physics to have an idea of the kinetic energy that would be released on impact…and to realize it was many times what it would take to vaporize Dauntless.
* * *
“Captain, I think I can get you some partial scans. I’ve only got battery power to work with, so you won’t get any long-range stuff, and I can’t hold it for long. But maybe you can get a quick sense of what’s going on out there.”
Barron couldn’t help but smile briefly, even amid the carnage and destruction. Fritz had practically lectured him about the scanners being a low priority…and then she’d managed to get them working anyway. He wondered how much having Travis down there, giving Fritzie a taste of the same merciless intensity the engineer used to drive her own people, had to do with it.
“You’re a wizard, Fritzie.”
“It’s not much, sir…and I’ll have to put it on your workstation screen. We can’t waste power on the main display. I’m stretching it to the limit even now, just to get these scans.”
“Understood, Fritzie. I just want to get a look.”
“Okay, Captain…should be coming on any second.”
Barron looked down at the small screen as it lit up, and fuzzy images started to appear. It took about twenty seconds for the display to stabilize, and then it was clear.
The enemy battleships were gone. There was nothing else within the shortened range of the makeshift scans…except…
Barron looked for a few seconds, an instant’s confusion giving way to cold understanding.
“Fritzie, I need the engines!”
“The engines? That’s impossible, Cap…”
“We need to change our course. Now!”
“Captain…”
“Fritzie…there’s an enemy ship coming right at us. If we don’t get our vector changed now, it looks like they’re going to ram.”
“How long?” the engineer snapped back, instantly understanding the gravity of the situation. “There’s no chance with the engines. But maybe we can blow out a few compartments…enough to give us a push.”
Barron looked back at the screen, his eyes zeroing in on the velocity of the enemy vessel…and in an instant, he knew they were dead.
“Eighty seconds, Fritzie…maybe ninety.”
“There’s no way…we need to get charges to the outer hull…the lifts are down, the ship’s cars are down…”
“Do what you can, Fritzie,” Barron said, his voice making it clear he knew there was nothing his engineer could do, not quickly enough.
Then his eyes caught the second symbol, a tiny dot. A fighter…and it was heading right toward the Alliance ship. There was a tiny ID number next to it, and some words. He couldn’t read them on the small screen.
He reached out, moved his fingers on the screen, zooming in. Blue One. Raptor.
He’d been worried about Stockton, as a member of his crew, as a friend. And now, the troubled pilot was the only one in range. But even if the old Raptor was back…what could one fighter do?
* * *
“Raptor, with the reactor down, you don’t have any chance at all, not even that million to one shot. You might as well decelerate as much as you can before your fuel supply is exhausted.”
Stockton let a small smile slip onto his face as he listened to Jamison. You’re a true friend, Kyle…I hope I’ve appreciated that the way I should have.
“Thunder, I’m still going in.”
“A few laser blasts aren’t going to do anything. With the reactor down, there’s just no way to vaporize that thing.”
“I don’t need to vaporize it, Thunder.” Stockton’s voice was cool, calm…almost as though the two were sitting over beers in the wardroom. “I need to change its vector. Just a little.” A miniscule fraction of one degree…and the farther out I do it, the less of a change I need.
“Your lasers don’t have any appreciable impa…” Jamison’s voice went silent for a few seconds. “Jake, no.”
“I’m moving along here, Kyle…pretty close to one percent of lightspeed. My fighter isn’t that big, but—well, calculations were never my strong suit, but I’m betting it’s enough.” That was a lie. Stockton was a bit of a math whiz, something no one on Dauntless knew. If he hadn’t been such a natural in the cockpit, he might have ended up crunching numbers at some science institute. Where no one would be shooting at me…note to self, if you ever get a chance to talk to the young Jake…
“I don’t need to take the thing out,” he continued, “just nudge it a little. With the reactor down, they won’t be able to readjust. Not in time.”
“Jake…”
“Don’t worry, old buddy. I’m not suicidal, at least not completely. I’ll eject at the last minute. If I time it right, the push from the release mechanism should shove me clear of the frigate.” And, if I miscalculate…well, I’ll get a close up idea of the energy released hit
ting something at a hundredth of the speed of light.
More like one two-hundredth, actually. He wouldn’t be hitting the frigate dead on…the ship’s vector was partially in line with his fighter’s, and that would reduce the effective relative impact velocity.
Still enough to turn you back into the atoms you’re made of, though…so don’t miscalculate.
“You’re too far out and moving too fast. You’ll run out of life support before anybody can get to you.”
“One problem at a time, buddy. First things first. And number one on the list is saving Dauntless.” He moved his hand over the comm unit, but he hesitated. “And, Jake…in case something goes wrong, I just wanted to say, thanks…for everything. I know I’m a pain in the ass sometimes.” He shut down the unit. It was selfish, he knew, to cut off Jamison, but he had to focus…and his best friend’s frantic pleas, or heartfelt goodbyes, weren’t going to help with that. Too many lives depended on this. Including Stara’s.
He adjusted his vector slightly, checking and rechecking. He was dead on. He’d hit the ship just right…and if he’d figured everything perfectly, the frigate would miss Dauntless and go flying off into deep space. It wouldn’t miss by much…but he’d settle for ten meters right now.
He looked straight ahead, his fingers moving across the dashboard, flipping a series of controls, activating the escape pod. He tried not to think past bringing his ship in and pulling the eject lever. Worrying about life support, rescue, if the ejection would push him far enough to escape the heat generated when his fighter slammed home…none of it seemed worthwhile. He’d rediscovered his instincts, and he would go with them. He’d either live or he wouldn’t, but he had to do this, and that was all that mattered now.
He counted down, watching the looming mass of the frigate grow on his scanners. He checked everything one last time…and then he pulled the escape lever.
Chapter Forty-Three
CFS Dauntless
Cilian System
Deep in the Alliance
Year 310 AC
Barron watched on the tiny screen as Stockton’s fighter smashed into the Alliance frigate. There was a strange symmetry to it all. Stockton had done to the Alliance ship what it had intended to do to Dauntless. Might still do to Dauntless. Barron was far from sure Stockton’s reckless bravery would succeed.
He was relieved to see that the pilot had ejected, and again when it became clear that Stockton’s pod had cleared the frigate and the roiling energy of his ship’s impact.
The fighter wasn’t massive enough to completely destroy the frigate, but all around where it impacted, the vessel’s hull melted and twisted. The partially operable scanners proved inadequate to the job of measuring the energy released, but he was sure of one thing. Whatever crew had volunteered for this mission—or been press-ganged into it—they were dead now. There was still a massive chunk of metal streaming through space, but nothing human could have endured the impact of Stockton’s ship.
Barron watched the remnants of the Alliance vessel ripping toward Dauntless. He could see almost at once that Stockton had managed to alter the frigate’s vector…but the impact had also split the ship into several pieces. Barron didn’t have the scanning power or the AI, and all he could do was guess if one of those chunks was still on a course to hit Dauntless. Guess, and then wait.
He watched, counting down in his head, as several large pieces streamed past, missing his ship by several kilometers. His eyes were fixed on the last chunk, the smallest—though one still massive enough to cause catastrophic damage. For a few seconds, his gut tightened, and he thought it might clip Dauntless’s bow, but it just missed, passing perhaps one hundred meters away.
He let out a long exhale, turning toward the bridge crew, most of whom had no line of sight to the small screen. “It missed us. He did it!” But even as the words escaped his lips, he looked back to the screen. There was only one symbol left…Stockton’s escape pod, transmitting its distress beacon. It appeared to be intact…but it was also traveling at the last intrinsic velocity of the pilot’s now-disintegrated fighter. That meant Stockton was moving away from every ship in the system…at 0.01c.
Barron turned, moved to pick up the portable comm unit. But he stopped. There was no way Dauntless could launch a rescue boat, not now. The fighter bays were badly damaged, of course, but he might have risked that. But without power, there was no way to get a ship into the launch track, no way even to open the outer doors.
Jake Stockton had saved Dauntless. He’d saved Barron and every member of the crew. But there was no way they could rescue him, nothing they could do but sit and watch him drift off into the depths of space. Watch him die.
Barron looked down at his headset connected to the ship’s dead comm system. He couldn’t even contact the pilot, couldn’t thank him.
Couldn’t say goodbye. All he could do was watch his friend disappear into the endless darkness.
* * *
“I’ve dispatched two escorts with instructions to proceed at full thrust. They are the only light ships undamaged in the battle…but I fear they will not reach your pilot in time.” There was genuine sorrow in Vennius’s voice. Lafarge was surprised as she listened to the broadcast, but then she realized she shouldn’t be. Alliance warriors respected courage above all things…and what Jake Stockton had just done was as pure a display of raw bravery as she’d ever seen.
She was still shaking, still trying to convince herself that Dauntless had truly been saved. She couldn’t be sure who was and was not alive inside the battered hull, but she felt certain Barron was okay. She couldn’t explain why, but she didn’t doubt her instinct.
She’d been listening to the back and forth comm chatter. Everyone in the system was trying to get to Stockton, to save the heroic pilot. But none of them could do it. All their efforts would be in vain.
It’s a good thing we blasted this way at full thrust…
“Vig, set a course to go after Stockton. We’re closest, and our velocity is already close to half his.”
“Yes, Andi…I’ve got it ready now.”
She just smiled. “Then, let’s go.” She flipped on her comm unit. “Attention all vessels, this the Free Trader Pegasus. We are close to Commander Stockton, and already traveling at 0.005c. We are moving to recover him, and expect to arrive in…” She glanced over at Merrick as he mouthed some words to her. “…one hundred seventeen minutes.” She didn’t know how much life support a fighter’s escape pod carried, but she was pretty sure it was more than two hours. So, if nothing else went wrong, Commander Stockton wouldn’t pay with his life for his heroics…and that seemed right to her. On many levels, not the least of which was, she owed him big. He had saved Dauntless…and that meant he had saved Tyler. Whatever else happened, she was going to give the wild pilot a big wet kiss…and then she’d drink him under the table, her treat.
“All right, Vig…let’s go get him.”
* * *
Barron gazed at the screen in astonishment, seeing the three ships but not quite believing it, even as he listened to the voice on the comm Fritz had just restored.
“Sara, what in the Eleven Hells are you doing out here? Not that I’m not glad to see you…or ungrateful that you saved our lives. But I’m shocked.” Barron was leaning back in his chair. Fritzie had gotten reactor B started again…gingerly, she’d assured him. She’d used the resulting power to get a few things working, including the lifts, and the comm. The bridge was still a wreck, but some work had been done, including—thank God—the removal of Darrow’s body. Barron mourned the officer’s loss, as he did all those who’d been killed in the battle, but he’d been looking back at the dead man’s still-open eyes for hours. Darrow deserved better, a more dignified resting place.
“Admiral Striker sent me. He figured you might need some help.”
“He figured right. You got here just in time. I had no idea why the enemy ships stopped firing at us. I’d have never guessed.” He paused. “But w
here did your ships come from? I’ve never even seen anything like those monsters.”
“They’re new…fresh out of the shipyard. Considering the urgency of the situation, Admiral Striker waived the normal testing and shakedown cruises. We’ve had to chase down a number of malfunctions and minor problems, but all things considered, the ships are in great shape.”
“But I thought it would be four or five months at least before any new battleships were ready.”
“Well, as it turns out, the admiral can be pretty persuasive when he’s motivating civilians as well as military personnel. It seems like a shipyard owner on Thralia was trying to impress someone by driving his workers a bit harder than most of the other Iron Belt moguls. And it worked. Admiral Striker went there to give the man a commendation…and he offered him something—I have no idea what—if he could speed things up further. And so, here we are.”
“That’s amazing.”
“I’m betting those Thralian workers would have a different opinion, but yes, it turned out to be vital. If the admiral hadn’t dispatched us when he did, not only would Dauntless have been destroyed, Commander Vennius would have been defeated too.”
“Well, once again, let me assure you how welcome you are.” He paused. “But I should be speaking more formally to a superior officer. Congratulations on the promotion, Commodore Eaton.”
She laughed softly. “No, sir…it is I who should be addressing the superior. I’m acting commodore. My orders were to bring these three ships after you…and to place them and myself under your command. I must say, it wasn’t easy finding you. either. We knew you’d left Archellia, but we had no idea you’d be all the way out here, in the middle of the Alliance. At least I bring good news as well as reinforcements. I have your star, Commodore Barron, as well as the orders for your promotion…sir.”
