Serkan nodded looking at his tea but was watching the Imam and Masam closely out of the corner of his eyes.
“Do you think we will find the hidden colony out here?” Masam asked and the Imam looked up to watch Serkan.
“If Allah wills,” Serkan said. “I will not fail a second time. The other ships of the fleet stand ready and I will call on them if we do.”
Serkan’s cup shattered in his tightening grip as he thought about the ones who had escaped.
The Imam nodded sagely and went back to his tea.
“Sadah you foolish girl,” Serkan growled, needing someone to beat. “You have given me a broken cup.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Chonka Battle
Leonessa sat in the Captain’s chair. They were an hour from safety. They would be able to get around the planetoid and use it for shelter but the Caliphate would know where they were and would run them down. Even unopposed the fourth planet and the strange vessels were a month away.
“Wormhole activity detected,” Carmichael said.
Leonessa wanted to cry. So very close.
“Fiddle sticks,” she whispered. All her life she had wanted to leave the solar system. To be assigned to the first wormhole exploratory vessel had been a dream come true. Now she had found aliens or the lost colony, seen them on sensors but she would not live long enough find out who they were.
“Orders?” Bebchuck asked.
“Maintain course. If they see us there is nothing we can do except pray,” Leonessa said.
They watched the sensors for several minutes as the Caliphate ships slipped out of the wormhole in good order. There were too many of them.
“Incoming transmission,” Bebchuck said. “Guess who.”
“On speaker,” Leonessa said, dreading the upcoming conversation.
“I can ignore it Captain,” Bebchuck said softly.
Leonessa shook her head.
“This is Captain Leonessa of the Jupiter Alliance exploration vessel Shrike. Please state your intention.”
“You are a woman?!” the voice said. “Are all the men dead then?”
“Yes, I am a woman and the Captain and no, the men are not dead,” Leonessa said, her voice hardening.
“Link is closed,” Bebchuck said.
“Maintain maximum speed,” Leonessa answered, hoping she could have found some way to piss him off even more. Caliphate officers would not negotiate with women if they had the upper hand. Women were second class citizens according to Islamic law, inferior to men.
***
“A woman!?” Amir Serkan said, his anger evident. “A half breed woman? The Jupiter Alliance must be truly weak to trust a mere woman to command a vessel.”
“Your orders my Amir,” Masam asked.
“Hunt them down and kill them. We will not accept their surrender only their pleas for mercy, which we will not grant. Full speed ahead.”
“Insha’Allah my Amir,” Masam said and gave the orders.
***
“You pissed them off good,” Bebchuck said with a smile. “They are piling on the G’s. At least they will not take their time and toy with us.”
Leonessa smiled grimly.
“ETA is about three hours based on their current acceleration,” Bebchuck said.
Leonessa reviewed her options, again, no weapons. The drive was crippled, life support would not last, and nobody was within range. She felt so helpless. They could not even turn the ship and try to ram.
It was two and a half hours later, and they were about to enter the extreme range envelope of the Caliphate ships. So far, the enemy had been staying together and had not sent the faster frigates ahead.
Time passed too quickly. It wouldn’t be long now. Leonessa stared at death, coming for them.
“Oh shit,” Carmichael said. “Incoming something, a ship maybe. It is fast!”
Everyone checked his or her monitors. There was something coming. It was bigger than the Caliphate battle cruiser.
“Hail them,” Leonessa said, a glimmer of hope.
“Attention unidentified vessel,” Bebchuck said. “This is the JAS Shrike requesting assistance, I say again. This is the JAS Shrike requesting assistance.”
Bebchuck repeated himself several times. “Nothing, maybe they don’t use radio?”
“Attention JAS Shrike. This is Conglomerate ship seven-seven-five-four, what kind of assistance required.”
Everyone stared at the screen or his or her instruments. They had spoken English.
“The lost colony!” Leonessa said. “Put me on!”
“Conglomerate ship seven-seven-five-four,” Leonessa said. “We are being pursued by a Caliphate task force. We have sustained major damage. We request protection and assistance.”
“JAS Shrike, do you accept the hostility of the Caliphate vessels pursuing you and preparing weapons?”
“No!” Leonessa said hoping she understood what they meant. “We are crippled and our weapons are destroyed.”
“Vessels identified as Caliphate. This is Conglomerate ship seven-seven-five-four. Do you deny hostility toward the JAS Shrike?”
It took several long minutes before the same voice they had heard before came on the line.
“Who are you?” the voice demanded without identifying itself.
“This is Conglomerate system defense cruiser seven-seven-five-four. We are authorized by the Topa, the Chonka Federation, and Conglomerate to maintain the peace and initiate hostilities against those who insist on willful violence against others without proper licensure. We have neither vessel on record as belonging to a properly authorized warring faction. Therefore, hostility must be accepted before we can deny involvement. The vessel identified as JAS Shrike has denied hostility and lacks the ability to engage your ships.”
“They are criminals fleeing justice,” the voice said, sounding cautious.
“Identify yourself, your vessel, and please explain,” the Conglomerate ship broadcast.
“I am Janissary Amir Serkan ibn Jackson, commander of the fleet and the vessel Khalid. My loyalty is to Allah. If you do not recognize the authority of Allah, I do not recognize your authority or rules. If you interfere with the destruction of the infidel ship then you will be destroyed as well.”
“The newcomer is moving toward the Caliphate vessels,” Carmichael said. Leonessa hoped.
“Missile launch from the Caliphate vessels,” Carmichael said. “Holy crap!”
Leonessa checked the board. It looked like the Caliphate fleet had emptied their missile tubes in one massive launch.
Checking the range, she could see they were in it. There was a total of fifteen Caliphate warships and two support ships. Checking the plot there were over ninety-eight missiles coming her way.
So close. She was glad she was sitting down. The missiles would strike in less than thirty minutes.
“I could use some coffee about now,” she said. Several of the CIC crew looked at her as if she was crazy, including Bebchuck. She looked at Bebchuck and shrugged.
“Get the captain some coffee,” Bebchuck growled at her junior comm technician. JCT Everett tried to jump to his feet but was held fast by his seat by the restraints, with a reddening face he unbuckled and then ran over to the coffee machine.
“Only ninety-eight missiles?” Leonessa asked. Obviously overkill, and an attempt to send a message of intimidation. She stared at the display, finding it hard to care how many. All it would take is one.
“Um, ninety-seven,” Carmichael said. “It looks like one had a mechanical failure and has changed course for deep space.”
Leonessa nodded as if she expected it. Everett appeared at her elbow with some coffee.
“Thank you, Everett,” Leonessa said. She was learning people’s names now.
“You’re welcome Captain,” Everett said and returned to his seat.
“Typical Caliphate efficiency. I guess Allah didn’t will that one to kill us. Just ninety-seven more mechanical failures and they wi
ll get the message.”
Leonessa sipped the coffee, burning her tongue, but she didn’t let her pain show. She hated coffee, it tasted nasty. She did not know why she had asked for it. In retrospect, it made no sense.
They were all going to die and she was going to die with the nasty taste of coffee on her tongue. Missiles lanced out from their new friend but not enough.
“Are all the missiles targeted at us?” Leonessa asked taking another sip.
“I can’t tell,” Carmichael said, “Not yet and not with our sensors degraded the way they are.”
“Do your best,” Leonessa said. She felt at peace knowing she would die soon and there was nothing she could do. “I’m just curious.”
“Aye Captain,” Carmichael said, not sure how to take it.
Leonessa sighed. “Sound battle stations,” she said. She had forgotten and chastised herself. Some Captain she was.
“Energy weapons from the Conglomerate ship are starting to pick off the incoming missiles,” Carmichael said and Leonessa pulled up Carmichael’s view on her own screen. The range and accuracy was impressive, and she wondered what they were. Maybe if the Shrike hadn’t been so damaged the sensor might have given her some clue.
The Conglomerate ship was destroying the incoming missiles. Leonessa smiled and then did the math. It would not be enough. The missiles were about ten minutes out. The Conglomerate ship was picking them off at about three a minute.
“Conglomerate missile hits!” Carmichael said. Checking the board, seven of the eight missiles had impacted, one appeared to have detonated prematurely because of defensive fire. Another eight lanced out from the Conglomerate vessel.
“Seven kills and the Khalid is leaking atmosphere from the near hit,” Carmichael reported. Cheering erupted from the CIC. It looked like the Conglomerate vessel was closing with the Shrike in attempt to provide defensive fire.
“The Khalid is breaking away,” Carmichael said. “We’ve won!”
Leonessa remained silent. Not exactly, she thought counting the incoming missiles. The Conglomerate vessel launched more missiles and then point defense weapons came online, killing missiles more quickly. Then the missiles popped, spewing out their warheads and countermeasures. She couldn’t tell if they were targeting the JAS Shrike or the Conglomerate vessel.
“Helmets on,” Leonessa said watching the board and putting down her coffee cup into the holder and covering it in case of lost gravity. She felt lightheaded, fully awake, and alert. The adrenaline slamming through her system made her want to run, to move to react but there was nothing to do. Everyone held his or her position, waiting, but wanting to move, to fight or flee. She looked at the crew around her. They were focused, their eyes darting about, their fingers quick but clumsy from the gloves and the adrenaline.
“Brace for impact,” Leonessa said over the ship intercom, sounding bored. “Damage control teams stand by. This is not a drill.”
The explosion slammed the ship hard. All power went out, there was screaming and crying, sparks lit the darkness briefly. A helmet mounted light switched on and then another.
“Are you okay Captain?” Bebchuck asked pulling her up. Gravity was gone and wreckage, drops of blood, coffee, and equipment floated throughout the CIC.
Leonessa was still seeing stars and the ringing in her ears would not go away, which made little sense. Her vision was blurry and she wondered why she was not in her seat, then she understood she was, and she was in the Captain’s seat, but it still did not make sense.
“Damage ‘port,” she said after a few seconds when she understood who she was and why she was in the Captain’s chair. Her tongue did not want to cooperate, and her command was slurred, barely understandable.
“Working on it Captain,” Bebchuck said with evident relief.
“Captain’s still with us,” he said, Leonessa considered arguing since she was not the original Captain, but decided not to, maybe later.
There was a whistling in the CIC and Leonessa looked around.
“Check seals,” she said, checking her own, her speech was still slurred. Not good. “Patch furst.”
She hoped it was the only missile. If it was, they were going to live for a little longer. If it was not, then it wouldn’t matter if they stayed in their seats, they would be dead before they knew it.
“Enguneeing?” Leonessa said, suddenly wanting to vomit. Everything was blurry. Their suit radios functioned. Vomiting in a suit would cause problems and could be fatal. Probably radiation poisoning.
“Engineering here,” Burke said. He sounded tired or possibly injured and sedated.
“Staetusss?” Leonessa asked.
“I’m looking at space,” Burke said slowly and Leonessa was content to wait for him to finish as she fought to control the urge to vomit. “We have nothing."
Leonessa looked around her at the shattered CIC as Burke continued, “I’ve lost at least three of my people and part of our ship is just missing.”
She couldn’t recognize the CIC, nothing looked familiar anymore. Nothing seemed to be where it belonged.
“A sizable part of the engine is just gone. I’m sorry Captain,” Burke said.
“Not yer fault,” Leonessa said, closing her eyes and concentrating on her speech. It improved. “Take care your people.”
“Did you see what happened to the Conglomerate ship?” Leonessa asked Carmichael who was sitting there cradling her wrist.
Ensign Carmichael shook her head. “I think most of the missiles were targeted at it. What got us was a missile that missed its lock-on or something. I don’t know. We shouldn’t have survived.”
“We did, and we will continue to do so,” Leonessa said moving over to look at Carmichael’s wrist, stifling the urge to vomit, the vertigo was bad, especially without gravity. Carmichael’s wrist was bent at the wrong angle. Everything was still blurry to Leonessa but it was clearing up. Carmichael had already injected herself with painkillers. Nanites in the med kit should be able to fix the wrist given a few hours. Everyone was pumped full of specialized nanites trying to heal the radiation poisoning and the suits were pumping in excessive amounts of anti-radiation medicine to help. Leonessa checked the external display on Carmichael’s suit. She had suit integrity but the radiation counter was in the lighter red.
“I’ll be back,” Leonessa said, moving to the next injured person. Step one would be to save who they could. The whistling told her atmosphere was leaking but the priority would be to make sure as many people had functioning life suits as possible. It could take them days to find all the leaks in the hull.
There was no power, no sensors and no clue what was going on outside unless they stepped out on to the hull and looked. Leonessa thought perhaps she was saving as many people as they could so they could all die more slowly later, but that was her duty and she would do it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Retreat
Amir Serkan swore. His flagship the Khalid was floundering and had suffered severe damage. The rest of his fleet had nearly been destroyed, their wreckage now littering the alien system. Emergency lighting lit the bridge, making it look like hell with the smoke, holographs and shadows. Someone was crying, and a body drifted through the holographic display.
“Twice!” he yelled. “TWICE those fiends from New Alamo have tried to kill me and failed, but they have massacred my brothers. These heretics must die.”
The enemy ship was stationary between them and the Jupiter Alliance ship. It had taken damage but did not press the attack.
“Order the Qudamah to attack,” Serkan said thoughtfully, staring at the flickering holographic display. It was the least damaged ship and Serkan wanted to know if the stranger was hurt or just not pressing the attack. “And get this ship operational!”
Serkan watched the screen while the bridge crew fought to regain control of the ship. The near detonation of the enemy missile had caused serious equipment failures like from an EMP burst and several decks were open to space.
<
br /> With half an ear, he listed to the damage reports. Masam was trying to make sense of the damage while organizing the damage control teams. It was not going well. Masam spent more time than necessary berating crew members because they did not move fast enough for him. It was interesting to watch Masam deal with the pressure and it did not take long for Serkan to realize Masam could not deal with it. It was obvious to Serkan that Masam was unsuitable for command. Masam failed to ask key questions or set proper priorities, he was a political appointee and rarely were such officers competent.
The Qudamah turned and approached the strange vessel. When it launched a missile, so did the stranger and Serkan had his answer. The Conglomerate ship still had teeth. Separated from the rest of the crippled ships the point defense weapons of the Qudamah were insufficient and it died. Almost casually, a beam lanced out from the Conglomerate ship to eradicate the Qudamah’s missiles.
Serkan watched the death of the Qudamah carefully.
“Give the orders to the fleet to return to the wormhole,” Serkan said seething. There were no other options.
“We are going to flee from the infidels?” Masam said, his anger now directed at his commanding officer.
Serkan drew his sidearm and shot Masam between the eyes. Masam’s body collapsed but was held in place by his restraints as Serkan holstered his weapon. Everyone stared at Serkan with fear in their eyes. Masam had outlived his usefulness and failed Allah.
“Muslims do not flee from infidels,” Serkan said looking at the screen. “We are going to muster our forces and re-evaluate the situation. We have a mission to report what we found to the Caliphate. Dying out here will not warn the Caliph, peace be upon him.”
Imam Khulus nodded his head. “The Amir is correct. We have found the lost colony and they are more powerful than we expected. Allah the Gracious, the Merciful the all-powerful, is on our side and will lead us to victory. Today however, we must return and report this change in the balance.”
Sitting there, Serkan seethed with anger. This was intolerable, unacceptable. The Conglomerate ship had taken the full force of the task forces missiles and survived. After the death of the Qudamah, he had no doubt it could kill the rest of them. Its missiles were too fast and did not fall for standard countermeasures. When it fired, it killed. Serkan knew the only reason the Khalid had survived was the concentrated defensive fires of the fleet had been tasked with saving it, which meant the Lost Colony was powerful, but not all-powerful.
The Return: The Conglomerate Trilogy (Volume 1) Page 11
