“Certainly not, ma’am,” Viktoriya said, gesturing. “Lead the way.”
“Fine, we can talk while we walk.” And she did. Federation technology at the time of Tamara’s long sleep was roughly equivalent of Republic technology, perhaps even a tiny fraction better. Small arms were of slightly different make and design, but were functionally equivalent. Federation soldiers (regular Army, Special Forces, and their other elite divisions) used powered and unpowered armor; they were all hoping that the lupusan soldiers were outfitted with the non-powered variety. Even if it was two hundred and fifty year old design, power armor would give the soldiers a huge edge over anything that Corajen’s people had; security deputies who had no powered armor.
“I have a slight issue, Ma’am,” Viktoriya replied. “You know an awful lot about antiquated Federation technology, but why nothing more recent?”
Tamara smirked at her, making sure not to show teeth. The last thing that Tamara needed right now was her lupusan guard feeling that her principle (and a prey creature) was acting like a threat. “You seem to have forgotten, Serzhant Eristov, that I’m a lot older than I might look.”
The lupusan blinked and stopped walking for a step. Then she got it. “You were in that escape pod,” she said. “I’d forgotten. Forgive me.”
“Which is why my knowledge is pretty much in the past tense,” she replied. “I recognize those two pirate ships because they’re ancient. Older than me, actually. I don’t recognize the names, but I do recognize the ship classes.”
“So they’re former Federation military,” Viktoriya said. “The troops and crews probably are too.”
“Too bad they’re maintaining radio silence,” Tamara mused. “Actually, have we attempted to open any communications with them, Magnus?”
The AI’s warthog face appeared on both females’ HUD’s. “No, Tamara. We have been in contact with the other First Principles’ ships but none of our vessels or stations have made any contact with the aggressor forces.”
“See if you can pull any of their chatter,” Tamara told him. “It’s probably encrypted, but we can scrub it later for any intelligence value. Besides, it never hurts to know who the enemy is.”
“You’re not going to call them, are you?” Viktoriya asked, sounding concerned.
“If I had any kind of ace in the hole, I’d consider it,” she replied. They resumed their walk down to the replicator compartments. “As it is, we’ve got very little left. Maitland is still out there, as are the bulk of the Aploras and the Twin Novas. But I think the fighters have pretty much exhausted their expendable munitions.”
“Which means they’ve lost most of their offensive punch.”
“Correct.” Tamara grimaced. “They’re still dangerous, but the Vision fighters won’t be able to do a whole lot of damage to the cruisers. They can harass them, and maybe do some damage, but I think that they won’t be able to do more than surface damage. I’m actually more concerned that strafing runs would open the fighters up to getting shot down.”
“Isn’t that sort of in their job description?” Viktoriya asked, with a chuckle.
“Yes, but right now the pirate ships are pulling back. I’m afraid if I send them in, they’ll get chewed up because they’ll have to get in so close to hit those cruisers.” She shook her head. “We’ve lost enough people today. I don’t want to lose those pilots if we can help it.”
“And if that transport really does start launching ships, the Visions might be better used in shooting them down before they can get here,” Viktoriya put in.
Tamara nodded. “There’s only so much that can be done. But you’re right. I think it might be better to keep the fighters back to try keep those troop shuttles off of us.” She sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something. Definitely pump out another salvo of missiles if the shuttles get too close.”
“Seems like overkill.”
“You’re lecturing me on overkill?” Tamara asked, a tired smile tugging the corners of her lips.
The black-furred lupusan grunted.
~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~
“Comms are back up, General,” the wolf reported, looking a bit frazzled. With every passing minute, it was clear that Typhon’s patience was fraying ever further.
“Finally,” he said. “Get Commander Luurr on the line. Now.”
“I’ve got him, General.”
The display activated, showing the image of the lupusan commander. He looked rather scraggly and worse for wear. Of course, he had an intimate understanding of what the general would do to him if he didn’t get his ship in order, so it was unsurprising he looked stressed. “General, we’ve taken serious damage, but we’re bringing primary systems back up now.”
Typhon nodded, suppressing a sigh of relief. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough,” the commander replied, anger clear on his features. “Those fighters tore us up. We’re sealing off the hull breaches now, but most of the shuttles have been disabled.”
Typhon’s fist clenched. “Sabotage.”
“Yes, sir. And they did an efficient job of it, too. Three of my bays full of shuttles are damaged, and all but eight, well seven now, of the shuttles are down. And there are over one hundred and eighty casualties. The numbers are still coming in.”
He pounded a fist on the arm of his chair. “Kazhet!” he shouted, his breath was shallow and ragged. Losing his wolves in battle, that he could accept, even appreciate. But to lose some of them, nearly two hundred because of sabotage? Luurr would be exceptionally lucky to keep his command after this cluster-grope. He would be very lucky to keep his life after allowing this mess to happen under his very muzzle.
“How long to get your systems back up?” he asked instead.
“We’ll have the shields back up in two hours,” Luurr reported. He held up a hand. “I know, sir. I’m pushing them as hard as I can. Medical is swamped with wounded. There are some issues with control lines due to the missile strikes but engineering is sorting it out.”
The general sighed. “Bottom line this for me, Commander.” His voice was very low, very quiet and very dangerous. Everyone on the bridge immediately had their back up; their fur ruffled, ears flattened back against their heads. The commander’s life hung by the most gossamer of threads.
The other wolf sighed. “The hyperdrive is still on line, the drives themselves, I mean. Once we get the shields up and the control lines sorted…” The wolf paused, looking off to the side, possibly at another display out of the range of the pickup. “Possibly about ten hours or so before the ship would be able to jump to hyperspace.”
Ten hours. “Get to it,” Typhon ordered, the harshness tapered out of his voice. “And I want a complete review of all security procedures on that ship, Commander. And I want to know how the hell it is that so much damage and so many casualties occurred and how it fell to me out here on Illuyanka to deal with the saboteurs.”
The other ship commander tensed. Then he nodded. “Very good, sir. I will have the information for you by the time that HT-626 is back up and running.”
Typhon didn’t answer; he just pressed a control which cut the connection.
“General, Byvennot is pulling alongside.”
The black furred general slapped his palm on the arm of the chair. “Finally, some small good news. Have them tuck in tight to the assault transport, between us. I want to make sure that we can cover them both as best we can.” He checked his own displays. Ganges was leading the convoy of cargo vessels out from the planet, away from the action. “What the hell are they doing? Why the hell is that bug pulling his warship out away from the planet?”
He was on his feet. “Comms!” he snarled. “Get Lord Verrikoth on the line, NOW!”
“You’re actually going to do it, you bastard?”
Verrikoth buzzed a sigh. “I’m actually going to do what, General?”
“You’re actually going to leave this system! You’re actually going to just tuck tail and run!”
V
errikoth straightened a bit in his command seat. “My intentionz for thiss ssysstem were only ever a raid. Get in, take a haul and get out. I’ve lost far more in the way of sshipss than I ever imagined on thiss raid. I’m not going to wasste time and ressourcez and my ssoldierz livez on attacking that gass mine.”
The wolf spluttered, losing control and apparently his ability to string a sentence together. “You… you…”
“General, I told you when we sstarted thiss that we are here to load up the holdz with sswag, and then leave. The fact that the battlecruizer iz misssing or out of pozition waz a sstroke of unbelievable luck. I am not going to press that any further than necessary.” The general was pacing around the bridge of his ship, barely staying in range of the pickup. “What I don’t undersstand, General, iz why you are ssurprized to hear thiss.” He clacked his mouthparts derisively. “Apparently age haz made you feeble.”
The wolf’s raging ceased and he went stock still. He turned to face the pickup. “You think that because you have that ship you are untouchable. That I will swallow these insults.”
“I think you will do sso becauze you know that I am right,” the zheen countered. “Occupying and desstroying the gass mine will do nothing but tie down resourcez and sspend your soldierz’ livez. In the end you will have little to sshow for their effortss because the battlecruizer will come and blasst you piecez.”
“You are showing a remarkably silver-plated tongue for one who doesn’t actually have one,” the general spat.
Verrikoth considered the lupusan general over the display pickup. He tilted his head slightly for a moment and then straightened up and spoke. “What happened to the determined military leader who cared for hiz troopss?”
“Don’t you speak to me about caring for my troops,” Typhon told him flatly. He whirled and barked, “End transmission!” The display blanked.
Jensen Tyler looked to his lord. “What now, my Lord? The General seems not to understand your orders.”
“He iz not used to following orderz.” Verrikoth mused. “But I expect you are correct. I do not want that mine destroyed. I want them to be able to fill my cofferz again when I ssend sshipss here again.”
“He is concerned for his people, my Lord,” Tyler said, considering.
The zheen turned his head. “With a battlecruizer that could drop in on uss at any time, he clearly isn’t that concerned.”
“But he’s fixated on the resistance from the locals.”
“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have issue with his aggressive nature,” Verrikoth hissed. “I brought him along for just that reazon, but I want thiss ssysstem relatively intact.”
Tyler nodded. “Then in that case, my Lord, you need to shift his attention away from the locals somehow.”
The zheen turned his compound eyes on his flag captain. “And how would you ssuggest doing that, Commander? By sshifting it to me? I have already losst too much thiss day, I have no dezire to fight General Typhon directly.”
“My Lord!” one of the sensor officers called out.
“What iz it?” Verrikoth demanded, his voice sounding tired. “I am quite fatigued with ssurprizez today.”
“There is a ship coming into sensor range at high speed,” the officer continued, pointing to his display. “They’re decelerating hard.”
“What kind of ship?” Tyler demanded. Verrikoth was impressed with how the man managed to keep his posture straight and his shoulders set, despite the fact that the officer’s words probably portended doom.
It seems the battlecruiser has finally decided to join the party.
~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~
“Thirty seconds to battlespace,” Wotan’s voice boomed over the ship’s speakers.
“Finally,” Kol Raydor gasped. The last fifty-seven minutes had been pure agony but now they were here. Now, they could show the pirates and the rest of First Principles how the strongest ship in their arsenal could do battle. In the odd moment when he could think clearly (and through the crushing g-forces it was very difficult), he was considering the battlespace. They didn’t have any updated intelligence packets from the rest of the FP forces; they’d been a bit busy fighting a battle while Persistence of Vision was racing to the gas giant. Which meant, absolute worse case, that the destroyer would be taking on three cruisers and a half dozen corvettes, not to mention any fighters or the gunboats that were hanging around. It was unlikely that the pirate forces would be completely intact, so there would be slightly better odds, but Kol was not ready to count the pirates out. From all the intelligence reports he’d read, this pirate lord was tough and cagey. He certainly had to be if his forces punched out the Republic flotilla at Byra-Kae. Kol mentally shrugged (it was too difficult to physically do so right now). Now that things were really rolling, he found himself irritated at the government and really the population’s apathy toward anything not directly involved with this star system. It meant that the military and security forces were playing a serious game of catch up, sifting through every single piece of information that came into the system, but so far the only info that was coming in was from the various freighters plying their trade. And from the Republic ship, of course. That’s where they’d gotten the plans to copy it and built Persistence of Vision. But they’d never even seen Verrikoth’s heavy cruiser before, or that other light cruiser that’d he’d brought in, or the troop transport. There was so much they didn’t know. And there was so much they needed to know. Like where this pirate scourge was located, how many ships they had, what kind of revenue stream they had: i.e. did they have a constant stream of goods and money coming their way or did they have to go out and raid planets and ships to get it?
But of primary concern at the moment were the capabilities of that heavy cruiser and her escorts. Hopefully, the defense ships were able to soften it up a bit. He took a deep breath and flexed his arms and legs, trying to keep the blood moving. He could feel himself wheezing now, as he desperately tried to suck air into his lungs. Apparently, Persistence of Vision was having a similar problem, as Kol could hear the metal of the ship groaning under the strain of deceleration.
“Five seconds,” the AI said cheerfully. “Four… three… two… one… now.” Suddenly, the pressure on Kol’s body ceased as the ship’s main propulsion units powered down. “Captain, you should report to the bridge. There is a battle to fight.”
Feeling as though he’d been battered, Kol heaved himself out of the chair in his small stateroom and rushed out into the corridor. He was on the bridge in less than thirty seconds, just as the rest of the bridge crew waking up. Well, as far as Kol could see it looked as though they were waking up. There was a lot of stretching and groaning, which quickly stopped when someone called, “Captain on the bridge!”
“As you were!” he said, sliding into his command seat. “Status?”
“Nothing has changed, Captain,” Wotan said, appearing on the bridge holo projector. “My systems are online and ready, shields are up, weapons coming on line.”
“Talk to me, Sensors,” Kol ordered, pulling up his own sensor display.
“I’m showing the pirate ships, sir,” the aged male lupusan at sensors replied. But then he frowned. “There are fewer than I expected. I’m only showing one pirate corvette, and the light cruisers are regrouping.”
Kol scanned over the data. His officer was right. According to the data packet they’d received from Cavalier at the beginning of the battle, there should have been six enemy corvettes, and now there was only one. There was also only one of the smaller gunships here as well. The heavy cruiser and one of the light cruisers also looked to have taken a beating, as had that large transport vessel. The smaller cargo ships (which were still huge) were moving slowly, and the sensors calculated that their bays were probably laden down with stolen goods.
“Captain, the tank farm,” Wotan indicated, gesturing to the outside of the ship. Kol shifted the view on the display and then swore. Apparently, the pirates had gotten what they’d wanted, because the platform w
here the massive fueling tanks were positioned had been completely slagged. Bits of metal and carbon composite were forming a small cloud in the very high orbit.
“Damn them,” he said.
“Sir, I’m getting the reading from three escape pods, and they’re broadcasting Cavalier’s beacon ID. I’m not showing any sign of the FP defense corvettes,” the lupusan reported. “Wait, strike my last. I’m showing Maitland coming around the curve of the gas giant toward us.”
Kol nodded. “Well that’s something. Thank you, Bayram.” He looked over to the man at comms. “Comms, open a channel to Maitland.”
“Aye, sir,” he replied. He pressed a few controls, then nodded. “You’re on, sir.”
“Maitland, this is Persistence of Vision. We’ve arrived on scene and we’re ready to assist. Report your status, please.”
“Commander, I’ve got a ship that just came on scene, sir,” the sensor officer called out. “It just piled on some massive deceleration.”
“Why are we only just hearing about this now?” Jensen Tyler demanded.
“The ship was coming in at a very high rate of speed, Commander. Based on their rate of deceleration, they’ve been slowing for a good while, but their rate of speed has been extremely high. I’m sorry, sir, I was focused on more local threats.” The man looked apologetic and unafraid. He knew the consequences of failure on this ship.
Verrikoth did not intervene; this was something for Tyler to handle. He sat in his command seat and considered the data from the new arrival. It was smaller than his cruisers, but was clearly a warship. Of course, considering that display of engine power, it could only be a warship. His antennae waggled as he considered the sensor readings. The readings were remarkably familiar.
“Ssenssorz,” he spoke up. The man whirled around to face him. “Compare these readingz with the databassez. I know I have sseen a sship with thoze characteristics before.”
“Yes, my Lord,” the sensor officer replied, pressing several keys. He frowned as he looked over the data. “My Lord,” he said a moment later, “You were correct, we have seen readings like this before. Ganges had information in her databanks about it.”
A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 Page 13
