“Watch it and let me know where it moves,” Dalton ordered. “Alert Lightning Three to intercept.”
“Ayem sir,” the chorus of voices responded.
Dalton had parked himself behind the Ch’Tauk dreadnought guarding the buoy. It was not strictly good form on his part, but it did make sense for the operation. The dreadnought was more than a match for the antique ship Pearce commanded, even with the improvements to her systems. He had deployed two cruisers and four Ch’Tauk frigates in a sort of orbit around the massive alien ship. Zeus was positioned directly behind. Dalton had ordered no fewer than ten of his own batteries to stay trained on the Ch’Tauk at all times. He was being ordered to trust the former slave-masters of the human race, but it didn’t mean he had to throw away his own security.
“Sir,” called the voice again. “She’s not moving. The signal is stable.”
“Does L3 have a visual yet?”
“Negative. They’re having some interference problems.”
“What kind of interference?” Dalton asked, standing from his chair and stepping closer to the walkway over the command pit.
“I … I don’t know, sir. I think it’s natural but it looks like … I don’t know, sir … but it’s disrupting scanners all over the fleet.”
“Can we call Jaegar?” Dalton asked his comms officer, a young Vadne with a bright orange coat.
“No sir,” the felinoid replied. “Jaegar is out of contact in sector four-gee. I can barely keep contact with the dreadnought. The interference is getting stronger.”
“Scramble fighters and get them out there now. I think this is where Pearce makes his stand.”
“Sir, other than jamming communications and sensors, what can he do?” asked Tambor, who had returned as soon as the orders began to fly. “We outman and outgun him in every way.”
“He’s blinding us and stuffing cotton in our ears,” Dalton replied. “He’s trying to even the playing field. Can the Ch’Tauk get anything from their sensors?”
“I’m having trouble reaching them, but I don’t think they’re any more able to talk than we are, sir. Their sensor systems are less advanced than ours.”
“Then get a net out there and get every relay we have in storage out into space and scanning. Whatever he’s planning, he’s doing it now.”
“Yes, sir,” Tambor replied, tapping a control on his data tablet. “I am transferring relays from life sciences to active duty. They won’t give us much but they—”
“Sir! Sensor contact at zero mark two-forty,” called the sensor operator. “It’s directly below us.”
“Alright, he’s above and below us,” Dalton called. “Theories? I want to know what he’s planning before he attacks.”
“He’s creating the interference by bridging two M-space engines,” called out one of the other sensor operators. “It’s raw and primitive but effective here.”
“Can we break up the interference?” Dalton asked.
“Not without turning on our own generator,” replied the young woman. “With that much interference, though, he’s got those things turned up on high.”
“He’s twisting local space,” called one of the engineers. “He’s creating a sort of whirlpool with the generators. We might be able to fire up our own engines and the generators of the other ships and counter the drift, but it’s gonna be a choppy ride.”
“Recall the fighters and get our engines on-line,” Dalton replied. “Relay to the fleet by laser signal if you have to, but make sure they are all ready to go on my command.”
“Aye.”
Dalton watched his crew work. Commands he did not need to give were being followed as efficiently as he could hope for. Zeus might not be a top of the line vessel anymore, but his crew was as close as he could get. He returned to his seat and called up the holo-image. The tactical area map was blurry and unsteady. He could make out the dots where the two frigates were holding station, but the cruisers were invisible. The large blob indicating the dreadnought was wavering but still there. He saw several launches from Zeus speed away. As the relays found purchase in local space, the image began to clear. Relays were being spread along the whirlpool lines where the contacts had been made before.
Dalton analyzed the view as if it were a computer simulation. If he had been programming the engagement, he would eliminate the fore and aft areas of his own ship as potential attack targets. Even blinded, the dreadnought could still manually target incoming, and the aft position would be too heavily guarded by Zeus to make viable targets. That left port or starboard as ingress points. Deploying the cruisers to the ninety and two-forty positions at zero elevation would cover their flanks. Dalton reached into the holo-image and maneuvered the orders sending the ships into position. He could hear the communications crew relaying the orders.
“Generators are warm, sir,” the engineers called out above the noise of the bridge. “We’re seeing counter waves from the Ch’Tauk ships too. I think it’s going to work and give them one hell of a ride.”
“Keep focused, Lieutenant,” Dalton replied. “Pearce isn’t a fool. He knows what we’re going to do. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Of course, sir. I apologize.”
“Sir!”
“Yes?”
“We’ve got two more contacts to port and starboard. Zero elevation. Distortion waves are increasing.”
“Can we still counter?”
“Yes, sir. The dreadnought is starting to counter the effects already.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Tambor said to his commander. “Why is he setting up the distortion if he knows we can counter it?”
“He’s trying to spook the fleet,” Dalton replied, again studying the image projected around his chair. “He’s behind the majority of the ships and wrapping himself around us like a ghost. Look for an attack from the diagonal. He’s going to come in for the buoy fast. I’d bet Resolute will be coming in from port. Pearce attacks from the port side about sixty percent of the time.”
“Sir?”
“Know your enemy, Tambor,” Dalton said with a grin. “The admiral taught me that once.”
“Sir, we’ve got contact with small targets at zero-zero,” called the sensor team. “Three targets stationary.”
“In this interference?” Tambor asked. “They must have misunderstood what the bridge would create. They can’t get close now.”
“They’re spreading out, sir. Lateral movement but no advancement towards target.”
“Are our fighters back on board?” Dalton asked.
“The last of Lightning Three just landed. CAG is reporting a lot of chop outside. He doesn’t recommend launching.”
Dalton thought about the statement. Chop referred to the disruptions in the surrounding space the ships were facing outside. If the Air Group commander of the carrier, a former pilot and ace, recommended safety, it must be dangerous indeed. Almost as if on cue, the carrier began to rumble under Dalton’s feet. It was a steady vibration unlike anything he had ever felt before. He looked to Tambor for an answer but the man had none to give. Both turned back to the command bridge and looked out at the pit. The sensor and engineering officers were conferring and did not seem to see them watching. After a few moments, the engineer looked up, startled to see his commander looking down.
“Sir, we’ve been getting some strange readings from the Sea,” explained the man. “We thought it was being caused by the interference bridge, but now I’m thinking it’s something else.”
“What else, Commander?” Dalton asked, feeling the rumble through the deck plate increasing. “What’s causing turbulence bad enough to disrupt my ship’s inertial compensators?”
“We are,” the sensor officer replied, “by counteracting the interference. I think we haven’t got the counter-frequency right and it’s setting up a feedback loop in local space, but that isn’t what we’re talking about. There’s something big headed this way and I don’t think we can move out of the way.”
�
�Is it Resolute?”
“Not unless she’s grown by a factor of about twenty,” replied the sensor operator. “Let me show you, sir.”
The woman tapped a few keys and the large projection screen at the front of the semi-circular bridge snapped to life. The image was not real in the literal sense, but an amalgam of the sensor data the ship was receiving. Static flashes ran through the image as the interference bridge played havoc with the systems. Dalton could make out what appeared to be a rolling wave of energy heading straight at them. The silhouette of the big dreadnought made the image seem unreal, like a hole in the middle of the image. The Ch’Tauk ship was swaying in the projection as though anchored in a rough sea. Dalton swore as he noticed the red dots indicating the Demon squadron ships getting picked up by the energy wave.
“Dammit!” Dalton cursed. “He couldn’t win legally so he broke the rules again. Get us out from behind that ship!”
The rumbling of the ship increased as her reactionless drive tried to move the carrier from the shadow of the dreadnought. The wave was heading straight at them from the front and the best thing he could think of was to move and try to ride it out.
“Sir, I’m not reading anything behind the wave,” called out the sensor officer. “It’s like the sea just disappears back there.”
“Oh there’s something there and it has a big damn red star on the side,” Dalton replied, thinking of the red sun symbol of the battleship Resolute. “Signal the fleet to get clear. This isn’t going to be fun.”
The screen began to waver as Dalton rushed back to his seat. His holo-imager was displaying a thick red line where the wave front was approaching. As the woman had told him, there was nothing behind the wave, but it didn’t matter. Resolute was pushing the Enxy Sea before it like a typhoon. Their own feedback had set up a thickened area of space like a deep water pit. The wave would come crashing over them in seconds and there was nothing they could do.
“Turn us nose in and—”
The wave slammed into the carrier, disrupting the gravity generators. Dalton watched his ops officer rise up and then slam down onto the deck. It was a sickening display which reminded him of the loss of his former first officer. Sparks flew from the big screen as the relays blew out and the bridge was sent into darkness. Dalton heard screams from several officers as the gravity flickered on and off. The captain held on tight to his chair even as his stomach threatened to let loose his breakfast. As suddenly as it had begun, the turbulence ended. Emergency lights flickered on and he could see the ruins of his bridge through the smoky yellow light.
“Report!”
There was chaos as his officers tried to regain lost footing. Tambor was struggling to lift his head, dazed by the blow to his head. Dalton tapped at his chair, trying to bring something back to life, but the furniture refused to acknowledge his authority.
“Dammit,” Dalton ordered, leaping to his feet. “Get me something. We’re blind and deaf here.”
“I think I’ve got something, sir,” called the engineer from his monitor stand. “Or … maybe, I don’t have it…”
“Well, which is it?” Dalton ordered.
“I don’t know. We should be reading particulates and radiation surges from the Sea, but … I got nothin’.”
“Sensor malfunctions?”
“Negative, sir,” replied the young man. “The Sea is gone.”
“That’s ridiculous. The Enxy Sea is still there. We’ve just been moved out of it by the wave.”
The bridge flickered to life suddenly as lights and console power were restored. There was a pop as the big screen flashed back on. Dalton motioned to the engineer to transfer his console to the big screen. Franklin had expected to see the fuzzy white particulate matter of the Enxy Sea at some distance, but instead of the thick energy field he had grown used to, he could see stars in the distance.
“Where are we?” Dalton asked his navigation officers. “Get us turned back to the field and start scanning for Resolute.”
“That’s just it, sir,” replied the engineer. “According to my console we haven’t really moved. We’re still where we were, give or take a kilometer. The Sea is gone, or at least about four hundred kilometers of it…”
“Confirmed, sir,” confirmed the pilots. “Stars confirm it. We are still in the Enxy Sea. Whatever just swept through here cleaned up the whole area out to five hundred twenty klicks.”
“Where is Resolute?” Dalton asked, dreading the answer. “What’s happened to the buoy?”
“Buoy’s gone, sir, but I have a reading on the transponder,” replied the sensor operator. “Target is moving away from us towards the red safe zone. She’ll be there in maybe two minutes.”
“Can we fire?”
“Sir, in our present condition we can’t do much more than watch,” replied Tambor. “Resolute is holding station aft of us at about two hundred kilometers.”
“What?” Dalton shouted. “That son of a bitch! He’s stopped to gloat.”
“Incoming transmission from Resolute, sir.”
Dalton gritted his teeth and tried to calm himself down. The bridge noises suddenly seemed to go very quiet for him. Tambor stepped closer to the captain and held out the data pad he had recovered. On the pad was a small icon. Dalton recognized it as the red sun symbol of the battleship. It blinked at him, taunting him to smash the tablet. Instead, he reached out and tapped the icon.
“Sir,” called the weapons officer in an apologetic tone. “We’ve just been marked by Resolute with a targeting beam. We’re out of the game.”
Dalton restrained himself for a long moment before looking at the tablet. The red sun was still there but it had been joined by three words. Once again, Franklin Dalton had been beaten down by a pilot. The man who had been instrumental in the death of his father and the eventual overthrow of the Ch’Tauk Empire had sent him a taunt to prove how insignificant he really was. He handed the tablet back to Tambor and walked away from the command chair. The ops officer watched as his captain strode from the bridge, head held high. When he looked at the tablet, he wondered what the words meant.
TAG. YOU’RE IT.
10
Battleship Resolute
“Order … arms!”
The old-fashioned call echoed inside the small landing bay of the battleship Resolute. With the deck space in between the two separate bays cleared, the bay now seemed more spacious and could be used to receive important visitors. Lee straightened his white dress uniform and stood a little straighter. The ceremony he was about to take part in was entirely unnecessary, but it was part of the bet the other captain had lost.
As the door to the passenger shuttle clam-shelled open, Franklin Dalton, resplendent in his own white dress uniform, stepped onto the deck of the battleship for the first time. Rows of Resolute crewmen snapped their arms up in a traditional salute accompanied by piped-in fanfare. A small smile crossed Lee’s face at the music. It had not been part of his original plans, but added by Kama Yu, who had stayed on the bridge keeping an eye on Na’Tora, while Josh Goldstein, Roy Booth, and Jackal stood beside him. Jackal had a dark bruise on the left side of her face from the rough ride through the energy wave, but she still stood straight and tall. Her husband, the pilot once known as Baron, stood next to her wearing his orange duty uniform. As flight deck officer, he hadn’t had time to change while the shuttle came to a landing.
“Captain Pearce,” Dalton said, stepping to the shorter man and saluting. “Permission to come aboard?”
“Granted,” Lee said, returning the salute with a smile. “Welcome aboard the Resolute, Captain Dalton.”
“Pearce,” Dalton said, leaning closer. “Do we really have to do all of this? I know I lost. I don’t know how you did it, but I accept the loss. Can’t we just shake hands and move on?”
“Franklin, you of all people should understand the forms must be obeyed between captains in the fleet,” Lee replied. “We wouldn’t want military discipline to break down over this now, wou
ld we?”
Dalton leaned back and gave him an appraising look. He clenched his jaw tight and extended a hand.
“Captain Pearce, on behalf of the crew of the carrier Zeus,” Dalton began, “I formally surrender and acknowledge defeat. I place myself and my crew at your mercy.”
“I accept your defeat, Captain,” Lee said in accordance with their bet. “But not your surrender. Instead, I offer mercy to your crew.”
The words were archaic and clichéd, but Dalton had agreed to them. When Lee had proposed the bet, the carrier captain had assumed he would win. As Pearce had handed him the tablet with the old book encoded on the screen, he had given it a quick glance and agreed to the terms. Only after they had recovered their bearings and Dalton had taken the time to look over the document had he seen what he had agreed to. The novel was centuries old and could only be characterized as a pulp adventure novel. Resolute’s comm officer had sent instructions as they waited for the carrier to lumber over to the safe zone.
“Your mercy is accepted,” Dalton replied, bowing his head slightly. “If you spare my crew, then I accept whatever punitive measures you wish to take.”
“Captain Dalton,” Lee said aloud. “I accept your terms and have thought long and hard about your punishment. After conferring with my officers I have decided on an appropriate way of dealing with you.”
Dalton shuddered at the words. This part of the ceremony was not in the book. He didn’t believe Pearce would do anything too severe to him, but you could never tell with pilots. He braced himself for whatever would come next.
Instead of announcing the punishment, Lee waved a hand to a young Tonal officer. The yeoman moved away quickly to the edge of the bay. As Dalton watched, a line of uniformed crew stepped into two parallel lines. Each held up a plasma rifle. Dalton let out a sigh at the theatrics.
The yeoman pulled a small package from a wall panel. Dalton could see the object being placed on a velvet pillow proffered from out of view. It was so over the top he could scarcely believe he was seeing this. A quick glance at Pearce showed a serious expression on the man. It seemed so out of place on the face of a man he had thought of as reckless and bad for morale. He looked back as the yeoman straightened and began to walk back towards them. As the young male stepped, the rifles began to twirl. It was a brilliantly executed show of martial flair. Without thinking, Dalton felt a smile cross his face. He quickly corrected his expression even as he struggled not to admire the precision drill.
Resolute Strike (The War for Terra Book 7) Page 8
