A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4

by Michael Kotcher

  “I like the way you think, Captain,” Aldys replied, pointing at the zheen through the vid pickup. “Out.”

  “Three hundred staff,” Skygexx muttered. “Seems about right for a station of that size. Shouldn’t take them too long to get back to the station once we’re gone.” He twitched his antennae as he saw the looks he was getting from the other bridge crew. “Well, we don’t want to be doing the mining, we want them to. And with the number of their personnel that are rocketing away in their escape pods, they should be able to get that station back up and running in a few months.”

  Kufazik nodded. “Makes sense. I know I don’t want to be out there cracking rocks.”

  “Lord Verrikoth should be well pleased with the swag we’re coming back with,” Hekai put in. “And you, sir, managed to preserve all of the ships he sent out to carry out his orders. Not losing any ships, gaining one of their cargo shuttles, all these new workers and the stockpile of metal? He should be quite happy with that.”

  “Yes, Hekai, I believe you’re right.” Skygexx chittered a bit, straightening in his command seat. “Continue with the recovery operation and make sure our guests are secured. Once we have them on board, we’ll link up with the cargo ship and transfer them over with the others. Then I want to get back to Skale and be sure they can get their systems back online. From there, we’ll regroup and see if Lord Verrikoth wants our assistance with the attack on the gas mine and their defenses.”

  The others went about their business, and Skygexx stared at his display, watching the various ship icons moving around. Yes, this had been an amazing day so far.

  Book 1 – The Outer System Battlespace

  Chapter 1

  Lord Verrikoth sat in his command seat aboard his flagship, the, heavy cruiser Nemesis, watching as his ships drew closer to the gas giant. The local cargo ships, shuttles, and tugs were accelerating all out, heading deeper in system, as far from the battle space as possible. He watched them go, his antennae flicking in amusement. The mauve-carapaced insectoid rubbed a blunt-fingered hand along one wrist, feeling the indentations, the heavy scratches that had scarred his exoskeleton from fights and battles long ago. They were reminders of those fights and each one held a memory.

  He would like to capture those ships, the shuttles and cargo vessels to add to his fleet, but for now there were bigger pinkskins to fry. Perhaps if there was time or opportunity later, they might try and chase a few of those ships down, but right now, the gas mine and the stores of He3 fuel were the priority. The locals here had a few defensive ships and a squadron of fighters, which meant there would be a bit of a scrap here in a bit but with the overwhelming firepower his forces held, unless their battlecruiser joined the party, he would carry the day.

  “No sign of the battlecruiser, my Lord,” Commander Jensen Tyler, Nemesis’s flag captain, reported. “Only those corvettes.”

  “Very good, Commander,” the zheen replied, continuing to rub his scarred wrist. “Take uss in. I want thiss done quickly, before the battlecruizer can arrive. Because you know they will be sscreaming for help.”

  “Aye, my Lord,” Tyler said. “Helm, maintain course and speed. Take us in.”

  “Have the gunboatss launch az well,” Verrikoth ordered. “I want them to be sseparated from the resst of the fleet. And launch the fighterz.”

  Tyler issued the orders and the smaller ships in the fleet were flying free. The squadron of the boxy Sepulcre fighters and the near-ovoid shaped Muon fighters spread out in front of the fleet, leading the way. A short distance behind them were the eight gunboats, slightly larger, holding in two loose circular formations.

  After a moment of continued acceleration, the sensor officer spoke up. “Commander, the Seylonique forces are accelerating toward us on an intercept vector. Looks like four corvettes and starfighters.”

  Verrikoth pulled up the display and hissed at the information. There were four corvettes, not the three he had been expecting. And it appeared that Toroj’s sensor data about the fighter squadrons was inaccurate as well. There were forty signatures coming this way, which was nearly four squadrons of fighters coming their way, not the one he was expecting. His own ships typically flew in squadrons of twelve, and if the locals did the same, they were only a few fighters shy of four squadrons. He hissed again in irritation. But from what he could tell from the reports, Skygexx and his ships had captured the mining facility, captured a number of the workers for slaves and were loading up everything of value there. Somehow the young pup had managed it without losing a single ship. Clearly, some more attention would need to be given to the capable zheen captain.

  The Seylonique fighters were spreading out into groups of four, holding in loose diamond formations, all of them vectoring in toward his fleet. It appeared, though that four of the fighters were holding back, allowing all the rest of the ships increase their lead. The quartet of fighters was interposing themselves between his forces and the gas giant. The gas mining station was on the far side of the planet, and it appeared that the locals wanted to ensure that he couldn’t slip any of his ships by to strike at the mine directly. Not without a fight anyway.

  “We will have to deal with their defenderz firsst,” he said, nodding slightly. “Make sure that the freighterz hold back. I don’t want to looze them in a crossfire.”

  “Comms,” Tyler said, and one of the comm-techs nodded, sending a signal to the three cargo ships.

  Verrikoth watched as the three icons indicating Fletcher’s Dolly and General Typhon’s two freighters pulled back and separated from the rest of the fleet. That was one worry out of the way. His fighters were closing with those of the locals and were outdistancing the rest of the fleet, which was fine, if the fighters could tear apart the locals before they got too close to his larger ships, so much the better.

  “Order the fighterz to engage,” Verrikoth said, keeping his attention on the displays.

  Commander Sokann acknowledged the order from the flagship and then keyed the comms for the squadrons. His was a hodgepodge of ships and groupings, the blocky and more heavily armed and armored Sepulcre fighters and the ovoid, nimble and lightly armed and armored Muon fighters. All of his fighters were equipped with missiles, though the Muons only carried a single weapon and the Sepulcres only had two. These fighters had a very light throw weight compared to other ships Sokann had seen, but Lord Verrikoth’s priorities were more toward large ships, not fighters. Though, the zheen pilot admitted to himself, if he and his fellows managed to do well enough today, perhaps he could convince the pirate lord to spare some time for getting his pilots some new and better ships.

  But that was a worry and a thought for another day. Now, they were going all out against the locals here in Seylonique, the system with a near-mythical boogeyman, that war demon battlecruiser. No one had actually seen the battlecruiser recently, no one from this fleet anyway, but sensor logs and anecdotal evidence from cargo ships that had come through this part of the Argos Cluster had, and brought that information to Lord Verrikoth, either freely or by force.

  So far there was no sign of the beast, which suited Sokann just fine. The last thing this fleet needed was a whopping great war machine to drop in on this party. It was, as the pirate lord had decreed, a private party.

  Nazan Tariq watched as the invader fleet drew nearer. They were splitting into three distinct groups and as he watched the display, it seemed as though the closest group was splitting further. He nodded to himself just as the tactical officer spoke up.

  “Captain, we’ve got fighters inbound,” she said, her voice icy calm. The woman had shown a unique talent for grace under pressure. She’d been that way when Cavalier had been in Ulla-tran and now with a fleet larger and more powerful than anyone had seen in the Cluster in centuries, she was speaking as though this was just another shift, just another watch.

  “Yes, Alys, I see them,” Nazan replied, rubbing his chin. “But that’s not for us to deal with. Comms, get the rest of the corvettes on the line. We
need to figure this out.” A moment later, the three other captains appeared on a split screen in front of him. “I’m thinking we let the fighters do their thing, but we concentrate on that second wave. And since we’ve already gotten confirmation that the bastards have attacked the mining station, we don’t have to waste time or initiative by playing communication games.”

  “So we’re going after another wave of fighters?” the captain of Eridain asked.

  Tariq shook his head. “No. On those corvettes coming up behind.” The others showed signs of understanding, two of them nodded. “They’re racing in pretty quickly.”

  “We can’t let them get in close to the planet,” Angara’s captain told them.

  “No we can’t. So there’s five of them and four of us,” Maitland’s captain piped up. “But we all pounce on one of them, I think we can take them down.”

  “You think?” Eridain demanded. He threw his hands wide. “There are four of us, ganging up on one of them?”

  “What’s to stop the others from doing the same?” Angara asked, sounding concerned.

  “Nothing,” Tariq replied with a shrug. “We’re just going to have to cover each other. We strike, we keep moving, we don’t let any of them get too concentrated. And we hope that Commander Korqath and his pilots came provide some support.”

  “And what about those?” Eridain asked, pointing at something off screen, but on the main tactical plot, the three icons indicating the larger warships grew brighter. “Three cruisers, one of them pretty big.”

  “We just keep moving,” Tariq said, now sounding unsure. “We deal with the lighter units first. Maybe if we can hurt their fleet badly enough, they’ll withdraw.”

  Angara snorted. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

  “Anyone else got a better idea?” he challenged. No one spoke. “All right then. We make for that one,” Tariq pointed to the display, lighting up the icon for the corvette on the far right flank. The invader ships, their light units, had formed into a ragged line, moving in toward the planet at a high rate of speed. “Hopefully we can hit it hard before the others can get organized.”

  “Wait, I’m sorry. Who put you in charge?”

  Tariq sighed. “Are we really going to be playing this game now?” he demanded. The others stared back at him, but there were a couple of hostile looks. “This time, I had a good idea. The next good idea, we follow that person. How about that?”

  “Fine,” Eridain grumbled.

  “Helm, take us in. Tactical,” Tariq ordered. “Target that corvette.”

  “All right Aploras, Twin Novas, let’s get it together,” Korqath called from the cockpit of his Zlk’vzn or what some of the pilots and techs were calling the Vision fighter. The fighters were a roughly manta-ray shape without the tail with slightly downward-canted wings. They were fast, maneuverable, well-armed and had decent shields, if Korqath had to say. And he liked to say, as often and to as many people as possible. He was proud of his ship and his squadron and wasn’t shy about telling anyone who would listen. The rest of the squadron, zheen all, followed suit, much to the annoyance of others on the gas mine. But they were fighter pilots and most of the crews simply accepted that this was the way they were.

  “Ready to go, Lead!” Hukriss, one of the Aplora pilots, cried. “Let’s get ‘em!” Hukriss was one of the few pilots who had been part of the squadron from the beginning and had proven himself as a skilled pilot. He had been one of the few who had fought against the Leytonstone and survived, which was something he would bring up whenever it seemed someone wasn’t paying him the respect he felt he was due. Most of the rest of his squadmates would shout him down good-naturedly, while the newer pilots would try and remain quiet.

  “All right, everyone lock on to one of the fighters. Kalzee, you hang back. Take Rokek, Korat and Ka’reen with you,” he ordered. “I want you to act as a blocking force for the tank farm. You don’t let anybody through, you read me?”

  “Copy, Lead,” the pilots replied. Korqath checked his displays and saw that the four ships were pulling back as the rest of the two squadrons were accelerating forward. A few seconds later, the quartet flipped end for end, decelerating for all they were worth, and then slowly accelerating again to take up position according to orders.

  “Target locked,” he called, as the collection of enemy fighters came into range. A solid tone sounded. There was a chorus of agreement from the others. Thirty-six pilots, each one locking a single missile onto the twenty-two pirate ships coming straight at them. It was overkill and Korqath knew that, wasting their throat-ripper missiles on fighters like that, but they needed to be done with those fighters quickly so they could engage the bigger ships, keep them occupied. Certainly a few of the defenders’ missiles would be shot down, but more than half again of the number of missiles as ships coming at them, the pirates wouldn’t be able to get them all; not in time. And even if they only got a handful of them, it would reduce their number and maybe even make a couple of them break off in fear.

  “Firing!” he called, depressing the trigger. A TR-2 throat-ripper missile dropped from the port wing of his ship and streaked forward. A quick glance at his display showed the others in the squadrons loosing their weapons as well. Thirty-six missiles raced toward the oncoming invaders, homing in on their targets.

  ~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~

  Sokann’s systems detected the incoming ordnance and began sounding alarms. He hissed in surprise. The locals had twice their numbers and were closing the gap to engage. And then they just fired off a salvo of missiles. His mandibles clacked in envy that these pilots had missiles to throw away. If at all possible, he hoped that Lord Verrikoth could get his hands on a few of those ships coming to attack them now. If nothing else, they held an impressive armament.

  But there wasn’t time to really think about that. “All fighters, go evasive!” he ordered, his voice harsh. He jinked his Muon fighter up and to the left. He drew a bead on the closest incoming missile and with a single hit of his triggers, he fired, blowing it apart.

  The rest of his attack force wasn’t so lucky or skilled. Of the twenty-two ships that started the engagement, barely thirteen made it through that first salvo. Eight of the blocky and slower Sepulcres were blasted apart in nuclear fireballs, unable to outmaneuver the speedy weapons. Only one of the nimble Muons got hit, the pilot turned sharply to evade one weapon and ran headlong into the teeth of another.

  In less than a second, his squadron was cut in half. He cursed in near despair. Those same feelings that had coursed through his thorax when his squadron had fought against that Republic cruiser back in Tyseus all those months ago were surging up again. “All ships, accelerate to attacking speed! Get in close; I don’t want to lose any more of us to the missile strikes.”

  He kicked up his own acceleration and raced after the incoming fighters. Locking on, he let loose his own missile, and hissed in triumph as it exploded and tore the enemy ship apart.

  It had been too easy. He’d been a fan of the Sepulcres when they’d been a part of FP’s defensive arsenal. They were sturdy, had decent armament, were easy to fly, easy with maintain. But now after a few months of flying in the Visions, Korqath decided that they were a decidedly outdated design. They were perfect for pirates, but they were sitting ducks for his squadrons as his first barrage of missiles proved. That and the punch and accuracy of Commander Samair’s throat-ripper missile designs.

  “All fighters, break and attack,” he ordered. “Get those fighters, but save your missiles. We’ve got some big boys that are getting belligerent.”

  “The fighters are moving in to engage, Captain,” Alys Flynn piped up from tactical. “I’ve got gunboats moving to interpose themselves between us and those other corvettes.”

  “I see them, Alys,” Tariq replied, pursing his lips as he studied the displays.

  “But they’re coming in at us from the portside angle,” the tactical officer continued. “They won’t be able to intercept us before we can h
it the target corvette.”

  “Good. Maintain course,” he ordered. He watched the displays as he saw the icon indicating the Cavalier as well as her three sister ships closing on the pirate corvette marked “P1”. “Fire at will,” he ordered.

  All four ships approached weapons range of the pirate corvette, which was trying to dive under the defenders’ angle of attack. It didn’t succeed, and all four of the ships cut loose with their weapons. Missiles streaked forth, followed seconds later by coherent energy weapons from their forward heavy lasers. A shower of kinetic kill metallic slugs spewed forth from the ships’ railguns. All of the weapons hammered into the pirate corvette’s dorsal shields, which flared opaque for a brief second and then collapsed. The hits struck and tore into the top of the ship ripping it open, almost as though the hull metal was being unzipped. The pirates hadn’t even tried to make any counterfire, which might have saved them. Four corvettes couldn’t throw that much in the way of fire, they were more designed toward high speed slashing attacks. By not taking down any of the incoming missiles or rail gun slugs, the pirate ship took the full brunt of the assault.

  “Yes!” Alys crowed, pumping a fist in the air. There were other cries of triumph from the rest of the bridge crew.

  “Belay that!” Tariq ordered, his voice harsh. His eyes flicked to the longer ranged sensors, showing those cruisers and support ships getting ever closer. “We have a lot of work yet to do. Helm, change course. Comms, get the others on the line, we’re going to move in on the other corvettes.”

  “Aploras, on me,” Korqath called, jinking his Vision hard to port to evade the incoming fire from the last remaining Sepulcre fighter. The energy blasts narrowly missed him, but a narrow miss was still a miss. “We’re going after those gunships; leave the egg fighters to the Twin Novas.”

  “Copy that, Lead,” Hukriss replied, as did several others. “Forming up.”