The Lost Colony (Lost Starship Series Book 4)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Ah, he was in luck. Three Star Watch destroyers orbited the Earthlike planet along with a Chin super-junk and a Windsor League hammership. That was interesting. It looked as if Admiral Fletcher was attempting to integrate the Grand Fleet. Strand had predicted that would happen after the incident in the Inferno System and Commodore Garcia’s death.

  The sub-men were becoming scared. They listened more intently now to the one sub-man who had bested a New Men fleet. He’d done so in the Tannish System two years ago with Starship Victory’s help. Did Fletcher think his integration would save the Grand Fleet from annihilation?

  According to Strand, the Grand Fleet had bunched-up once again, and this time it would stay bunched-up possibly until its end. That had allowed Strand to guide Pa Kur around to New Venezuela. The enemy still had several brave Patrol officers willing to scout on their own. The rest of the ships moved with the Grand Fleet, hoping their size would save them from the clever New Men.

  It actually might do so…except that Strand had a surprise for them once the Grand Fleet entered the wrong star system. First, in order to frighten them even more and cause their herd-like instincts to harden, they needed this last example.

  Pa Kur turned in his chair, hearing the others begin to stir. Soon, messages would reach the hammership, as the sub-men in orbit around New Venezuela III would detect them and send queries.

  “Captain,” a sub-woman said, wearing the uniform of his Majesty’s Windsor League service. She was one of the five surviving crewmembers from Palain’s water moon, saved for this very reason.

  Pa Kur had spent countless hours hypnotizing the Windsor League officers. All five were on the bridge at their normal stations. Only Pa Kur and the warfare specialist were with them.

  Their hammership, renamed as the Resolute, accelerated toward the sub-men in orbit around New Venezuela III.

  The sub-man playing captain for Pa Kur raised his head. The man had glazed eyes and slack features.

  “Captain,” a woman said. “I’m receiving signals from the Golden Hind.” It was a hammership. “They want us to identify ourselves.”

  The pretend captain peered at Pa Kur.

  The New Man nodded slightly.

  The slack skin tightened on the captain’s face. His eyes shined and he spoke confidently. “Put them on the main screen,” he said.

  Soon, an enemy sub-man appeared on the screen. He wore a Windsor League uniform, the symbols showing him to be a commander. He asked the usual questions.

  The shiny-eyed captain said this was the Resolute. “His Majesty has decided on sending early reinforcements,” the hypnotized sub-man said. “There are four more hammerships on their way. How goes the counteroffensive, Commander?”

  Time passed as the questions and answers traveled back and forth. The time lag made it a painful, drawn-out process. Finally—almost an hour later—the sub-man commander in orbit around New Venezuela III welcomed them to the Grand Fleet.

  The hours grew as the Resolute headed in-system. New questions came and were answered more quickly, as the time lag between ships was constantly shortened. After half a day of this, the hypnotized captain began to show signs of strain.

  Pa Kur realized the sub-man’s former personality was trying to reassert itself. It was time for some comm problems. He signaled the comm officer, the woman.

  She leaned toward the comm. “Come in, Golden Hind. I say again, come in, please.” She glanced at Pa Kur.

  He chopped his hand through the air.

  The comm officer promptly clicked off the comm.

  “Why did you do that?” the sub-man captain asked her.

  “Attend me,” Pa Kur said, sharply.

  The five subhumans stopped their various activities, looking up, turning toward him robotically.

  “Captain,” Pa Kur said.

  The sub-man sitting in the command chair did not respond properly. Instead, he hunched his head.

  “Captain.”

  The sub-man hunched more.

  Pa Kur hesitated trying again. Three failures in a row might begin a new conditioning. The captain’s hindbrain might be able to lever free using that.

  “Look into my eyes, Captain,” Pa Kur said.

  The sub-man fought the compulsion. He scowled and squirmed in his chair. Finally, he gripped the armrests until his fingertips turned white. Ever so slowly, however, his neck muscles forced his head upward. His eyes jerked up and down like the frisky colts the New Men kept on the Throne World. Against the man’s will, his gaze locked on Pa Kur’s black eyes.

  The New Man began to speak to him quietly, gently.

  “No!” the sub-man screamed. “No! You’re devils! You’re using me.” He twisted around on the chair. “Wake up, people. Can’t you see—?”

  The sub-man gurgled, his eyes widening in shock and in pain. Deftly, Pa Kur removed the force blade from the man’s back and stepped to one side. The man gasped once more as the smell of charred flesh wafted through the bridge.

  “Emergency!” Pa Kur shouted. “Flee the bridge. We’re having an electrical fire.”

  The four remaining subhumans glanced at each other.

  “Hurry,” Pa Kur told them. “The captain died trying to save you. Run to safety before it’s too late or he’ll have died in vain.”

  They got up, hurrying to the exit. The chief engineer turned around, staring at the dead sub-man on the floor.

  Pa Kur marked that sub-man for death. He did not want another problem like the imitation captain.

  After the Windsor League captives had departed the bridge, Pa Kur turned to the warfare specialist. “Clean him up. Wipe away the blood. I’ll have to modify the others.”

  The specialist nodded.

  Pa Kur closed his eyes a moment. He had a few difficult hours ahead. The comm officer should prove the most malleable. They had to get in close for this attack, and it had to be a complete surprise. He opened his eyes and headed for the exit.

  ***

  The Resolute began to brake. The former comm officer now sat in the captain’s chair. The engineer was missing from his station. Like the former captain, he was dead, already processed through the ship’s incinerator.

  One of the Star Watch destroyers left through a Laumer-Point. It was going to bring the good news to the main concentration of warships that reinforcements were already here.

  The Golden Hind was beginning to slow its orbital path around New Venezuela III. It was going to match velocities with the approaching Resolute. All the while, new messages from his Majesty’s hammership became more insistent.

  “You may proceed,” Pa Kur said.

  The new captain pressed a button on her armrest. The planet, hammership and super-junk coming into view around New Venezuela III disappeared from the main screen. The Golden Hind’s commander appeared there now, a small, bearded man.

  “You fixed your comm problem?” the Windsor League commander asked.

  “Yes,” the sub-woman comm officer said, smiling.

  “Where’s the captain?”

  The comm officer hesitated, opening her mouth but saying nothing.

  “Is something wrong?” the Golden Hind’s commander asked.

  The comm officer glanced at Pa Kur.

  “The captain is sick,” he said softly.

  The sub-woman licked her lips, facing the main screen. “The, ah, captain fell sick,” she said. “We had…had trouble on the bridge.”

  Pa Kur stiffened. What was wrong with the sub-woman? She wasn’t supposed to say those things.

  “What kind of trouble?” the Windsor League commander asked.

  “Electrical,” she said. “It was a power outage. The captain ran to repair it and was electrocuted.”

  “What?” the commander asked.

  “It fried him,” the sub-woman said in a robotic voice, with her eyes wide and staring. “It was horrible.”

  The Golden Hind’s commander stared at her in shock and disbelief.

  Pa Kur made a swift calcul
ation and decision. He turned to his board and tapped fast. The Resolute quit braking and began accelerating instead. He motioned the warfare specialist, who immediately brought the shields online and warmed up the railguns.

  New Venezuela III was still too far out for effective fire under normal circumstances, but with their special rounds, it was time to attack.

  “I’m not sure I understand this,” the Golden Hind’s commander said. “You’ve raised your shields. Is there a reason for this?”

  “Fire,” Pa Kur told the warfare specialist. “Aim the first volley at the Golden Hind. Aim the next at the super-junk.”

  The comm officer stared at the screen.

  “Tell him we’re having mechanical trouble,” Pa Kur ordered the sub-woman.

  The comm officer turned to stare at him.

  “Captain,” the Golden Hind’s commander said. “What is the meaning of this? Who is giving you orders?”

  Pa Kur cut the connection and concentrated on his board.

  “What is wrong with me?” the sub-woman asked, rubbing between her eyes.

  Pa Kur took time from his tapping to draw his blaster. He set it on needle-fire and beamed the remaining subhumans. They each toppled onto the deck, dead. They were no longer useful, and he didn’t have time to escort them to the brig. He had a battle to fight, and he’d lost the all-important element of surprise.

  ***

  The hammership, super-junk and destroyers were accelerating out of orbit from New Venezuela III. They were still deep in the gravity well. They’d had two choices and they’d made them fast. Each had decided to come up out of the gravity well to fight instead of trying to race around the other side of the planet to hide.

  The Resolute bored in, heading into the gravity well. Pa Kur had already played his chief card, the initial shots launched from the hammership’s railguns some time ago. They were nova bombs although without any cloaking. Otherwise, they were the same weapons that had annihilated the majority of Commodore Garcia’s flotilla.

  The Golden Hind’s railguns chugged auto-fire, sending solid rounds at the approaching nova bombs. It was next to impossible to hit those until the bombs were only five thousand kilometers away or so. By then, because of the bombs’ massive damage radius, it would hardly matter. The sub-men couldn’t possibly possess that good of targeting computers to hit farther out.

  Then, a nova bomb ignited fifteen thousand kilometers from the Golden Hind. An enemy auto-round must have been on-target, setting off the nova bomb’s proximity switch.

  The nova blast must have damaged the enemy, but Pa Kur had no way of knowing yet. Although the Resolute was much farther away, the blast overloaded his hammership’s sensors, whitening the main screen.

  “I need sensors,” Pa Kur said.

  The warfare specialist took the sensors offline, saving them from another nova blast. They had lost the use of the superior sensors, as Strand had taken them back after the incident in the Inferno System. The minutes passed. The other nova bombs should have already ignited. The specialist brought the sensors back online, removing their outer combat coverings.

  Some of the former whiteness had dissipated.

  The bridge door opened and the comm specialist ran into the chamber, sliding into his spot at the comm. His fingers blurred across his board.

  “The Golden Hind’s triple shields are down,” the comm specialist said. “The hull armor is breached. They’re losing water and oxygen. Fifth Rank,” he said. “They’re firing railguns.”

  Pa Kur listened to the data in silence. How had the sub-woman broken through her conditioning? She had ruined a perfect surprise.

  “I’m retargeting the Golden Hind,” the warfare specialist said.

  Pa Kur focused on the main screen.

  With New Venezuela III behind it, the Golden Hind trained its railguns on the nearing Resolute, firing thermonuclear rounds. Air and water boiled out of gaping wounds in the crippled hammership’s hull. The giant craft shuddered. A piece of hull armor ripped loose, spinning away.

  The super-junk was nearer. Its shield was dark and it held onto its fighters. Maybe its commander realized the strikefighters would never survive the coming nuclear holocaust.

  “Can Strand help us?” the warfare specialist asked.

  Pa Kur’s shoulders twitched. The Methuselah Man would help them only if that helped himself. For all he knew, Strand had already left the star system.

  “Send another salvo at each,” Pa Kur said. “Then, shut down the sensors.”

  The two New Men tapped their consoles.

  Pa Kur’s stomach clenched. Thermonuclear rounds approached. He had to save their now brittle sensors. If they were blind, the enemy could annihilate them at their leisure. Pa Kur would then cease to exist. He did not like how that made him feel.

  After several minutes passed, he said, “Turn on the sensors.”

  The came online again but only partially worked.

  “Enemy nuclear blasts have breached our two outer shields,” the warfare specialist announced. “The third shield is dark. We must finish this, Commander.”

  Pa Kur signaled with his hand.

  The hammership’s mighty railguns chugged round after another at the reeling Golden Hind. Meanwhile, the super-junk began to launch fighters.

  “Impressive,” the warfare specialist said. “They’re launching into a radioactive mess. None of those pilots are going to survive the fight.”

  “The strikefighters are suiciding against us,” Pa Kur said. “They could prove dangerous.”

  The normal procedure for a carrier or a super-junk was to stay back and launch fighters and bombers. The mothership was precious. This time, the super-junk continued to accelerate at Resolute as it launched craft the entire time.

  “Commander,” the warfare specialist said. “We have a situation. All the sub-men in their various craft are boring in against us.”

  Pa Kur could see that for himself. He had an elbow on an armrest and rested his chin on a fist. What did this mean? Strand’s actions were to have demoralized the sub-men. Those attacking did not seem demoralized in the least.

  “They have reckless courage,” Pa Kur said.

  “I’m targeting the super-junk,” the warfare specialist said.

  Pa Kur nodded absently.

  “The destroyers are coming up behind the junk,” the warfare specialist said. “It’s as if they’re using the bigger ship as a shield.”

  “Is desperate courage a symptom that occurs before cowardice strikes deep?” Pa Kur asked.

  “Commander,” the warfare specialist said. “What are you orders?”

  Pa Kur frowned. “Destroy them, of course. Destroy them all.” No matter what happened, he must survive.

  The hammership continued to send railgun rounds at the super-junk. The Resolute’s auto-defense cannons chugged away at the closing strikefighters.

  The junk had defensive lasers, beaming as many nuclear warheads as they could before they ignited. The Resolute sent too many rounds, however, swamping the junk’s defenses. Thermonuclear blasts hammered the junk’s shield. It went from red to brown to total collapse. The next nuclear blast tore away armor plating. Then, the huge carrier shuddered for a long moment and exploded. The monstrous blast blew heat and debris in a growing circumference.

  One of the destroyers zoomed through the destruction. The other never appeared. The blasts from the super-junk must have annihilated it.

  Three of the Golden Hind’s last thermonuclear rounds blew down Resolute’s last shield. That allowed a cloud of strikefighters to fire their guns and launch missiles and space marine pods directly at the hull armor.

  The Star Watch destroyer added its laser beams. They were not heavy battleship beams or even cruiser beams. But they did help. Without a shield to breach, the lasers began to burn into the hammership’s armor.

  “Sir,” the comm specialist said. “I have discovered a problem.”

  “The junk and hammership are gone,” Pa K
ur said. “We’re out of danger.”

  “No, Commander, there is a danger. The—”

  The bulkheads shuddered around them on the bridge as a massive blast shook the hammership.

  “What was that?” Pa Kur asked.

  “Antimatter warheads, Commander,” the comm specialist said. “It is a new weapon.”

  “Marine pods are landing on the outer skin,” the warfare specialist said.

  “How many marines?” Pa Kur asked.

  “The first wave—almost one hundred,” the warfare specialist said. “Another five hundred are on the way.”

  “We can defeat six hundred space marines boarding us in waves,” Pa Kur said.

  “True,” the warfare specialist said. “But we cannot defeat them and fight the strikefighters at the same time.”

  Another destroyer appeared, adding its lasers and firing more antimatter missiles at them.

  “This should not be happening,” Pa Kur said.

  “What are your orders, Commander?” the warfare specialist said.

  “We fight,” Pa Kur said.

  And fight they did, trading shots with the destroyers and clouds of strikefighters. The Resolute took out eighty percent of the enemy. While the hammership did so, hundreds of sub-men space marines entered the captured Windsor League vessel.

  The marines did not attempt to take control. Instead, as they fought their way deeper into the ship, battling New Men, they planted demolition devices. Those began to explode, crippling the mighty warship further.

  “Sir,” the warfare specialist said. “The sub-men have behaved in a suicidal fashion throughout. It appears they are willing to die as long as they can kill some of us.”

  “I have concluded the same thing,” Pa Kur said.

  “While we have annihilated almost all of their ships, enough strikefighters remain to finish our hammership. What, now, sir?”

  Pa Kur stared the warfare specialist in the eyes. “It is wasteful to throw away our lives.”

  “That is so.”

  “Come,” Pa Kur told the other two. “We will abandon ship.”

  “What shall I tell my brothers battling the space marines?” the warfare specialist asked.