“Aye, Captain, relaying the message now,” Comms acknowledged.
“First wave away, ma’am,” Tactical announced.
“Jesus Christ,” Andrew whispered hoarsely as thousands of missile plots suddenly appeared on the display. A veritable wall of white dots marched quickly across the screen, through the region where the Saracen had launched the foil without difficulty, and barreled down on the Dominion ships of TF1. “Those poor bastards…”
“Their deaths are on Admiral Rankapurta’s head as well as mine, not yours,” Captain Ezell stated in a firm voice. “Remember that.”
“Conn, Ops. Second wave of enemy missiles approaching, ma’am,” Wandrey informed them.
“Acknowledged,” Captain Ezell said softly. “Countermeasures?”
“Up and running, ma’am,” Wandrey replied.
“Very well. Keep me informed.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Andrew watched in horrified fascination as the missiles of Typhon Fleet continued to pour forth like a waterfall, their numbers seemingly endless as they marched inexorably toward their targets. TF1’s formation began to break up as ships struggled, taking evasive action, as the ECM missiles burned out, and the true threat revealed itself. Hundreds of missiles fell to the Dominion Navy’s point-defense systems, which Andrew knew to be very good, but there were thousands of missiles making it through.
Wincing, Andrew began to count as the first ship to fall in TF1’s defensive line was the DV Hariri Bay, a frigate with over two thousand crewmembers. The frigate buckled under the onslaught and eventually cracked along its spine. Broken and defeated, Hariri Bay became a ghost of a relic, and it was marked on the display as no longer being a threat.
Andrew couldn’t help but cry as he watched thousands of men and women die under the furious counterattack. Princess Sarah went next, followed closely by Tashmoo and Aguila. Even near-misses were devastating, as the missiles’ burst radius often caught the unshielded escape pods of the already doomed ships and vaporized them. There was nowhere for them to run—not anymore. This crushed Andrew more than anything he’d seen in a long time.
“I didn’t want this,” Andrew whispered as he watched the continuing destruction of the Dominion’s Second Fleet. “I’m just trying to end the civil war.”
“Nobody wants this except a relative few, Andrew,” Captain Ezell consoled him in a quiet tone. “That’s the problem when certain individuals gain power. They remove themselves from the everyday lives of humanity and, in so doing, lose theirs.”
“Conn, Ops. We have missiles breaking through the electronic countermeasures, Captain,” Wandrey announced.
“Track them.”
“Conn, Comms,” the young ensign called out. “Hoquiam has taken multiple hits and is severely damaged. Captain Schmid is ordering fire control parties to salvage what they can, but she regrets to inform you they’re out of the fight for now, ma’am. More reports coming in. Aldea has taken one to the stern and lost one thruster. Arrow has taken multiple hits, but her captain says they’re still in this fight, ma’am.”
“Captain Evans never did know when to quit,” Captain Ezell murmured. “Comms, inform Captain Evans to fall back unless he’s certain he can continue to fight. Have Vicksburg move up to cover the gap left by Hoquiam.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Please flash your surrender lights,” Andrew heard the captain whisper under her breath. He wholeheartedly agreed. The thought of losing many more lives pointlessly was heartbreaking, especially since it was painfully obvious the Dominion was outclassed. Though Captain Ezell was technically an enemy of the Dominion, she didn’t see the need to waste countless more lives on a hopeless endeavor.
More missiles slipped through their defenses, and Iroquois was rocked as a missile hit. Andrew grabbed a side rail near the captain’s chair to balance himself. Captain Ezell was unfazed by the strike.
“Damage report?” she asked.
“Missile tubes fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen are down, ma’am,” Commander Wandrey announced as she consulted her board. “Damage control teams en route. Fire on Deck Fourteen-Bravo, suppression system is activated. Awaiting a casualty list now, Captain.”
“Damn it,” Captain Ezell growled. “Tactical?”
“No more will get through, ma’am, I swear,” the lieutenant promised.
“Ops, range to TF1?” she asked.
“Ten thousand kilometers and closing fast, ma’am,” Wandrey answered.
“Open fire with all available particle blasters,” Captain Ezell ordered. “Rake the screens, then target the dreadnought. We need to force Admiral Rankapurta to surrender before this gets out of hand.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Helm, come fifteen degrees to port. Lee helm, drop your point to five.”
“Conn, Ops. TF2 is breaking off,” Commander Wandrey suddenly reported. “Avante just flashed it’s surrender lights!”
“Excellent,” Captain Ezell murmured. “Now it’s your turn, Vijay.”
“Conn, Comms. Argos reports successful destruction of enemy watcher ship; Saracen is nearly there to provide search and rescue support.”
“Shit!” Tactical suddenly shouted. “They’re using nukes, and they just mauled the Vicksburg.”
Andrew paled. Nobody used nukes anymore, especially after it was shown they were far more destructive in space and often caused as much damage to the allied ships as they did to the enemy. For anyone to be fielding nukes, much less tossing them about in battle, bespoke a desperation he hadn’t anticipated. Just how badly are they hurt? he wondered.
Suddenly, the blip on the screen representing the Vicksburg disappeared.
“Conn, Ops…ma’am, Vicksburg…she’s gone, Captain,” Commander Wandrey said in a quiet voice. “Double explosion indicates a magazine detonation. No…no signs of life pods at this time.”
“Conn, Tactical. Multiple enemy ships are flashing their surrender lights, ma’am.”
“And the dreadnought Ceres?” Captain Ezell asked.
“Still on approach, ma’am.”
“Focus fire on Ceres,” the captain ordered. “All particle blasters, open fire. No missiles, we’re too close for that. Pummel him into submission.”
Under such a heavy onslaught, the DV Ceres, lead ship of the Second Fleet, began to burn as the high energy weapons pierced the thickly armored hull and rent it asunder. Return beams lanced back and hit Huron, but the ship shrugged most of the fire off and joined in with the Iroquois. More particle blasters focused their sights on the dreadnought, and suddenly the ship split open just starboard of the center spine. All fire from the Ceres ceased, and silence filled the bridge of Iroquois. Ceres began to drift lifelessly in space, yet her surrender lights still didn’t flash.
Andrew bit his lip, worried. He knew just how stubborn the admiral was, having met him once while undercover as Darius Hastings. How much loyalty does he have to the men and women on that ship? Andrew wondered. How much does he owe Prince Edward to keep fighting, even when it’s obvious to all that he cannot win?
“Open a channel,” Captain Ezell said and got out of her chair. “Address this to all the Dominion ships. I want them all to hear it.”
“Aye, Captain,” the young ensign manning the comms station acknowledged. A moment later he looked back at his captain. “Ma’am? It’s ready.”
“Attention Dominion Navy ships orbiting the planet Ceres,” Captain Ezell began. “This doesn’t need to continue. Don’t waste lives needlessly. Anyone who surrenders will be paroled back to their ships. We aren’t here to fight you. If you acknowledge your defeat, please flash your surrender lights.”
There was no response. Andrew had half-expected this, given the grit of most Dominion naval officers. They considered themselves to be the best in the universe, and having it handed to them in such a rude and abrupt manner was jarring. Andrew continued to pray silently they’d surrender so there’d be no more bloodshed.
“I came in pea
ce. I brought neither city-busters nor planet killers with me,” Captain Ezell told the wounded ships scattered about the planet in a near-earth orbit. Her voice was soft, yet firm. An underlying steel in her tone gave even Andrew pause. You could hear a pin drop on the bridge as she continued, “But I’m pleading with you, with tears in my eyes and sadness in my heart…if you fuck with me, if you reject the hand of peace a second time, I will kill you all. For your family’s sake—for your own—flash your surrender lights now.”
Andrew, along with every man and woman standing on the battle bridge, waited with bated breath for some sign of the task force’s acquiescence. There was nothing but dark silhouettes on the vid screen. Andrew began to grow nervous as the remnants of Second Fleet refused. He knew Admiral Rankapurta had sworn to never surrender unless ordered to do so, but Andrew also knew he was loyal to his crew. Surely he wouldn’t waste a quarter million souls knowing he would be unable to defeat the superior Alliance fleet?
Finally, the last surviving dreadnought flashed its lights. Then another ship, and another, until all the surviving ships had signaled their surrender. Andrew exhaled slowly, relief flooding over him. They’d won. It felt strange to the former Jericho agent. He’d helped what was legally the enemy of the state defeat a Dominion naval battle group. However, the earlier internal conflict was gone, for which he was immensely grateful.
“What had wrath wrought but death and chaos?” Andrew whispered as he closed his eyes. He quietly offered a prayer to the brave men and women of the opposing battle group who’d died during the fighting. Immense sadness filled his aching heart as the surviving ships continued to burn in the darkness of endless space.
“Thank God,” Captain Ezell murmured. Andrew opened his eyes and looked at the serene face of the captain. Her expression was something to behold. Andrew had never seen a warrior such as this. He hadn’t believed they were possible. Despite her previous anger, and her determination to win, she’d become something more. There was no anger on her flawless features, only compassion and pity. While proud of her ship and its crew, Andrew could see the butchery didn’t please her. To Andrew, Captain Kacey Ezell represented everything Octavio Nunez, the Justice of the Black, couldn’t hope to come close to. Cruelty wasn’t in her nature. She continued in a gentle voice that floated throughout the silent bridge.
“Thank God I didn’t have to kill them all.”
* * * * *
Chapter Fourteen
Christine
“Fuck.”
Dealing with a body wasn’t how Christine had wanted to start her escape from Corus. It was bad enough she hadn’t had a chance yet to purchase a jump-gate capable ship off the ’net, but more complications—like the woman bleeding on the floor of the living room—weren’t needed. The woman would have to be moved, but how?
Christine slid her sidearm into her holster and grabbed the downed woman by her arm with her free hand. Grunting with exertion, she dragged the body into the living room, leaving a trail of slick blood on the hardwood. Thankful the hardwood wasn’t carpet, she let the woman’s arm drop and inspected her.
“Damn it,” Christine muttered as she found the DIB agent’s badge. Carefully checking the raised bumps along the bottom of the badge, she quickly verified that she was a real DIB agent, and not one of the theoretical undercover Praetorians. Was the DIB hunting her again? It seemed unlikely, since according to public record she was still on Belleza Sutil. In fact, it seemed more likely it was pure bad luck the Deeb had stumbled onto Christine as she was leaving.
The dead woman suddenly groaned, and Christine almost freaked out. The Deeb was still alive, even after taking a round to the face. Upon closer inspection, she decided that the agent would most definitely lose her eye, but would probably live if she received medical attention soon.
Her day kept getting better. Christine hurried into the master bedroom where the medical supplies were kept. The medkit was right where it should be, and she quickly found a topical nanite agent to apply over the eye. It wouldn’t rebuild the destroyed organ, but it could help repair the damaged blood vessels to control the bleeding. She also grabbed some sterile pads to go on top of the eye socket after the nanite gel was squirted into the wound.
Only then would she leave. Christine knew backup was on the way, since the agent had managed to get off an emergency burst message before she’d been shot, so she would get proper medical care soon enough.
“Sorry, Agent,” Christine whispered and patted her shoulder. “I’m really sorry about this.”
The only thing Christine still had going for her was the element of surprise. If Joel was right, the people searching the city weren’t looking for her, but for Lady Ravenwood. Unless the noblewoman had been caught and vigorously questioned, Christine should be in the clear. Before Malachi’s assassination, she’d never have believed they’d torture a member of the nobility for answers, but now Christine was no longer certain.
All she knew was she needed to get the hell off Corus, and quickly.
She checked on the wounded agent one final time and made sure Maxwell was still sleeping soundly. The infant hadn’t even budged. She smiled. Lord, please let this child grow up in a world where violence is the last resort.
It was an odd prayer for someone who’d just shot an unsuspecting federal agent in the face, but Christine had always known she was an odd woman.
The wind outside had grown worse, but Christine was on the clock. She’d have to brave the elements. Grabbing her bag with one hand, keeping Maxwell nestled safely against her body and wrapped in the protective ballistic silks and sarong, leaving her right hand free in case she needed her weapon, Christine exited the safe house and started walking down the street.
The icy cold slapped her in the face. The snow was beginning to accumulate on the pavement as well as on the street. Knowing the full brunt of the storm would soon slam into Lares, she increased her pace. Head down, hair whipping about her face, and covered with an odd assortment of clothing and wraps, she was probably a sight. It was fortunate there weren’t many people on the streets.
One air carriage cruised by at a slow sped, hovering a few feet off the ground. Christine recognized the make and model as one the Praetorians typically drove, and felt her heart rate increase. The vehicle slowed further as it passed by, and she fought the urge to watch it. She could feel the driver looking at her, and her tension ratcheted up by leaps and bounds. Paranoid before, Christine was now seeing threats everywhere.
However, even paranoids had enemies, and the air carriage stopped and began to turn around. Christine’s pace increased, and she could hear a faint voice behind her, calling out. At the next intersection, the street turned sharply to the left, toward downtown. On the right side of the road was a small forest. Through the trees, she could make out a body of water. Wondering if the pond was the same one she’d seen when leaving the hospital, she glanced behind her. The air carriage was following her, staying just far enough behind her to throw off suspicion.
Unlike a trained DIB agent, who’d have known the only vehicle in sight would be scrutinized, whoever was inside the carriage was determined to follow her no matter how obvious they were. That told her a kidnapper or a Praetorian was on her tail. She could probably handle the former with ease, but the latter would likely have backup lurking somewhere. It was either fight or flight, and Christine knew, with Maxwell, fighting was a last resort option. They’d need to run.
Instead of following the street at the turn, Christine left the sidewalk and tromped into the small forest. The snow was a little deeper here, and she proceeded a little slower, but the sooner she got away from whoever was following her, the better.
Using the trees as cover, she risked another look. Through the windy snow blowing into her face, she recognized the cheap uniform of a Praetorian. He appeared to be talking into his datapad, calling her location in to someone. Frowning, she pushed onward into the forest, keeping an eye on the pond to her right. If it was the same p
ond she’d seen before, Christine knew she’d eventually be dumped onto Victory Circle, where the statue of Empress Sarah stood.
And sure enough, there it was. The tall, bronze statue was green with age, but still stood strong in the center of the large traffic circle, replete with the scales of justice in one hand and a sword in the other, raised high in the air. Christine sighed in relief and looked back over her shoulder, but she’d lost track of the Praetorian. The trees were too thick to see the street, so she slogged onward.
Following the giant statue made the going easier, though snow was beginning to build up on it. Nonetheless, she had a fairly good navigation point which was better than walking the streets looking for somewhere safe where she could use her datapad to look for a ship to purchase. There were lots of dealers on the ’net, she figured. The hardest part would be finding someone local who still had a ship for sale and would be open to making the sale as fast as possible. However, millions of credits tended to motivate individuals.
She started to see lights from buildings ahead of her. Keeping the statue as a waypoint, she maneuvered through the forest and eventually lost sight of the pond. Doublechecking on Maxwell, she was profoundly thankful that all the baby wanted to do was eat and sleep. If he’d been fussy, their escape would have been a nightmare.
As it was, fleeing potential captors at the beginning of a blizzard was difficult. She needed a place where she could get out of the wind and use her datapad without attracting too much attention. A small café that hadn’t closed yet would be ideal, but Christine wasn’t sure how prevalent those were on Corus. On most Core worlds, one could find a café on every street corner in a major city, and within blocks of one another in smaller towns. She hoped Corus would be no different. Knowing there were a multitude of shops off Victory Circle, and her current route was getting more difficult, she angled slightly to the left to walk through the parking lot of a large building. It would make the going easier, as well as quicker.
Homeguard Page 27
