by B. V. Larson
“Dammit… They must still have reinforcement. Continue firing.”
The tactical plot showed the attack squadron racing ahead and beginning to fire with their lasers—small by capital ship standards, mere pinpricks.
When the numbers lined up properly, Engels said, “Launch our missile.”
“Shipkiller launching.”
The big rocket ejected from the corvette’s tube and accelerated away at phenomenal speed. With nothing organic inside, it could pull high Gs and its computer would do its machine-minded best to merge with its target and explode. It rapidly began to overtake the attack squadron.
“One attack ship casualty, complete destruction,” said Lorton. “It…that must have been a railgun shot meant for us.”
Engels shook her head, imagining the hammer blow of the fast-moving projectile tearing apart the attack craft like a rifle bullet through a sparrow. “That’s bad news. It means their railgun is still up. If we were sure it was down, we could pull back and pound her. Now we have to make it a knife fight.”
“Heavy laser strike on our prow. They’re targeting our railgun port.”
“Not the shipkiller?”
“Negative. Shipkiller is closing. Passing attack ships now.”
“Full laser fire!” Engels gripped her armrests. “Come on, baby…”
On the screen, the destroyer suddenly turned broadside. Spears of light blazed. “Missile destroyed,” Lorton confirmed. “Multiple point-defense lasers took it out.”
“Yeah, but now you’re off centerline, you bitch,” Engels snarled. “Pass to attack ships: target their heavy lasers, and then try to rake her nose and tail. Take out her railgun and engines. Weapons, concentrate on her stern until she turns. Ops, reduce forward shielding to twenty percent.” With the enemy railgun pointing away from them, the reinforcement wasn’t as critical.
“Looks like they’ve lost at least one fusion engine,” Engels remarked. “Otherwise, why aren’t they maneuvering faster?”
“Don’t know, ma’am,” Lorton said.
She hadn’t really expected an answer to her rhetorical question. Thirty seconds of relative calm passed, then new contacts appeared.
“Missile launch,” Lorton announced. “Correction: I’m seeing multiple missile launches. Four launches.”
“Targets?” Engels asked, her heart sinking.
“One on the attack squadron, three on us.”
“Shift fire to the ones targeting us,” she said without feeling guilty about it. Polzin had eleven lasers to kill only one missile. Engels, on the other hand, had to fend off three missiles with only six lasers.
She considered turning around to extend the range again, but there was no way to outrun the missiles. She was too deep into the destroyer’s engagement envelope. She might as well continue to accelerate and evade.
“Vectoring spinward and rolling,” she said. That would unmask all of her lasers and force the missiles to turn more and more sharply—to try to predict where Liberator would be, and intercept.
Once the predictive software of the three guided weapons had pointed themselves firmly ahead of her, trying to cut her off, she turned the corvette hard into them, then behind them. “Vectoring anti-spinward.”
The missiles now had to turn twice as sharply back, in order to try to aim themselves at the new location they expected her to be.
If the opposing missile controllers were on the ball, they could override the semi-AI guidance and use their own analysis to predict her actions better than any machine. However, she was hoping the enemy had their hands full with repairs, and that they had fired the missile barrage in hopes of buying time and keeping their enemies at bay.
Once the missiles had found their new course, she whipsawed them again. This time, they simply could not turn fast enough and she was able to slip past them.
The closest one detonated. “Heat surge in fusion plenum,” ops declared.
“Reducing burn,” she replied. EMP from the nuclear detonation had sent a thermal pulse up her tailpipe, and with her fusion engine already running at maximum, she couldn’t risk overheating.
The other two missiles swept by her and turned for Freiheit.
“Crap,” she said. “Message Carson that they have two shipkiller leakers inbound.”
“Transmission sent.”
Engels couldn’t worry about those now. She had a much larger fish to fry.
Nine icons still showed from Polzin’s original twelve. The destroyer must have taken two more of them out. She lined up Liberator again on the enemy, aiming at her nose, which was swinging forward again. “Railgun: lock and fire.”
“Firing.”
The range had closed now to medium, approaching short, and the alloy penetrator slammed into the destroyer’s forward quarter, tearing off a chunk of the hull and creating a spray of debris.
“Yes!” she cried. As she’d guessed, they couldn’t reinforce everywhere now that the narrow nose wasn’t turned directly toward Liberator.
“More missile launches,” said Lorton.
Engels acknowledged. “They know they’re in a fight to the death, so they’re dumping their whole load. Weapons, fire our shipkiller.” She had one tube and three missiles total. This was the second launch. “Use it defensively. Intercept theirs. It’s still a chess match.”
Again, three enemy missiles headed for her, one for the attack squadron. This time, the small ships seemed ready. They shot theirs down right away.
Instead of vectoring away and dragging the missiles this time, Engels remained steady on course directly at the enemy. This caused all the guided rockets to line up. When her weapons officer detonated Liberator’s missile, the oncoming warheads flew straight into the fireball, and the remnants of the explosion covered her approach.
“We’ve silenced one heavy laser,” said Polzin. “I’m down to eight effectives.”
“Keep hitting them hard, Major. Don’t let up!”
As the destroyer loomed larger and larger, Engels braked with her impeller. She had no shot at the railgun, as the enemy nose was now turned away. ”Line up our railgun on one of those damned missile tubes. Fire railgun,” she said.
“Firing... Impact. Missile tube destroyed.”
The destroyer’s remaining heavy laser jolted the corvette’s nose, and lights flickered.
“Batteries empty,” ops called out. “I need prioritization, ma’am.”
Engels shut down her impeller. That would leave more power for weapons. “Full lasers, then railgun capacitor. Only reinforce when we have excess. Shut down life support. Our suits will be enough for now.”
Air circulation stopped. It wouldn’t be long before the temperature dropped, but the battle would be over by the time it became critical—she hoped.
“Shift lasers to concentrated fire. Target their missile tubes, then their lasers, one by one.”
In rapid succession, Liberator’s six medium lasers obliterated the enemy’s missile launchers. They might not have any weapons left to fire anyway, but the shipkillers were the biggest potential threat.
Engels continued to slow her ship as she approached to point-blank range, aiming her railgun but not firing yet. “Give me a wideband transmission in the clear, all standard freqs.”
“Transmission open. Comlink not established.”
“Well, we’ll see if they’re listening.” Engels cleared her throat. “Liberator to Mutuality ship. This is Captain Carla Engels. Surrender now. Continue to fight and we will dismantle you piece by piece.”
Nothing but static returned.
“Continue firing. Keep trying to smash her railgun.”
“Firing.”
Suddenly the destroyer seemed to shake herself like a fish, and her fusion engines flared at full, apparently all back in action. She swung in a tight circle to point directly away from Liberator—and incidentally toward Straker’s Revenge.
“They’re running,” Engels said.
“It’s not over,” said Straker. “Keep hamme
ring them. If we let them get distance now, they can come back and start all over again with the same long-range advantages.”
“Understood. We’ll keep harrying them,” said Engels.
The attack ships harassed the fleeing destroyer, buzzing around like angry hornets. It fought back with point-defense lasers, knocking out another of its tormenters. Engels almost called them off, but as Straker had intuited, now was not the time to give the enemy a rest. Two days remained before Freiheit made its jump to sidespace. Letting the destroyer get away to recover would simply reset the battle situation, giving the advantage back to the bigger ship. She couldn’t assume they would run clear to flatspace and depart.
Engels pushed the corvette closer and closer, up and to the outward side of the destroyer to get a firing angle past the hard flare of the fusion engine, trying to herd her enemy toward Straker. This battle was balanced on a knife-edge, and she had to use every resource she had, even if it put the man she loved directly in death’s path. She knew instinctively that if she tried to protect him at the expense of winning, he might never forgive her.
* * *
Straker jabbed his fist repeatedly against the nearest handrail, causing himself enough pain to distract from the waiting, waiting, waiting. He bit his tongue listening to Engels’s open comlink, not interfering with her concentration. He cheered when the destroyer turned to run, knowing the battle was half won. Pride flared in his chest as he watched her throw her corvette at the enemy.
“We have achieved negative extension rate,” his helm officer said.
“What? Say that in Earthan.”
“I did, sir.”
“Then say it more simply. I may be a War Male, but space combat isn’t my specialty.”
“The destroyer has turned toward us. Combined with our reverse acceleration, we’re now closing on the enemy instead of extending away from them.”
Straker took another look at the tactical plot and understood. Revenge had been clawing to get back to the battle. Now the battle was accelerating toward Revenge.
“Any chance of getting underspace back?”
“No, sir,” said the ops officer. “The underspace engine will need major repairs.”
Straker racked his brain. He had one laser and one missile that had been damaged, and may or may not work. The float mines were worse than useless; without the ability to vanish, deploying them would destroy his own ship.
Unless…
“Can we drop float mines in normal space?”
“Yes, but we would destroy ourselves, sir.”
“That might be our final option, but let’s not get suicidal just yet. Can we set them for delayed detonation?”
“Yes, sir…” said the weapons officer.
“How about proximity fuses?”
“Yes, they have proximity fuses if you prefer.”
Straker ordered, “Helm, keep us directly in the path of the enemy. I want her to run right over the top of us, close as possible.”
“Aye aye, sir. I must point out, though, that one railgun strike will wreck us. As will a collision.”
“I know. Evade as much as possible while keeping us in their general path. We have to risk it. I’m betting that they’re too busy fighting and too low on power to use their railgun.”
The destroyer’s icon began flashing red. “Unfortunately, sir, your supposition is incorrect. They have fired their railgun,” said the sensors officer.
“Evade!”
“I have done so, sir,” the helm officer said with the appearance of calm. “In fact, by the time you spoke, the projectile had already missed us. I took the liberty of evading before your order. I hope the War Male is not displeased.”
“Hell no, I’m not displeased,” Straker said, slapping his helm-squid on the back—or at least on the part of his torso that was facing away from the console. He wasn’t sure Ruxins really had fronts or backs, considering they had eyes and arms in all directions.
The helm officer shrank from him. “Why are you striking me, sir?”
“It’s… it’s a human gesture of comradeship and approval.”
“Ah. Very well.” The Ruxin slapped Straker’s chest with a tentacle.
“No, not… never mind. You’ll get it.” Straker refocused his attention on the tactical plot, trying to estimate when to make his play. “Ready float mine deployment. How many do we have left in inventory?”
“Seven.”
“Use six, keep one in reserve. Set them to proximity fuse, with a timed activation after we have moved out of range. Drop them every ten seconds once we’re approximately two minutes from crossing paths with the destroyer. Weapons, choose the exact times to drop based on our relative ship courses. Work with the helm to plant them directly in the enemy’s path.”
“Aye aye, sir.” The Ruxins began chattering in their own tongue.
When the destroyer and the hidden ship were two minutes apart the weapons officer began deploying them as ordered.
Because the Revenge was still accelerating directly toward the enemy, the mines fell back to her stern, but continued on a ballistic course in her wake. Ten seconds separation should eliminate the possibility of fratricide and give each a chance to detonate when its proximity fuse detected the destroyer… assuming they didn’t see the mines.
Straker had one more trick up his sleeve. “Weapons, aim our laser at them, wide beam, continuous fire.”
“That will do no damage, sir.”
“I don’t care about damage. I want to screw up their sensors.”
“You wish to reduce their ability to detect our mines?”
“Of course. Get with the program.”
“Not understood.”
Straker sighed. “I mean do it now!”
“I am already doing it, sir. The fact that I am conversing with you doesn’t preclude my carrying out your orders. I am Ruxin, after all.”
“You sure are.” Straker waited until the intercept chrono hit forty seconds. “Prepare to launch missile.”
“Missile ready.”
At thirty seconds, he gave the order. “Launch!”
“Missile away. Running true, no malfunction.”
“Open secure broadcast comlink to all friendly ships.”
“Secure broadcast comlink open.”
“Straker to all ships. Break off now! I have laid mines in the enemy’s path and have launched a shipkiller missile. Move to the side and get out of the way!”
The comlink channel burbled as their replies stepped on each other. Straker might have given more warning, but he couldn’t risk letting up the pressure on the destroyer, or by their actions, giving anything away. The enemy had to remain distracted and miss the threats in their ship’s path.
The missile failed to detonate—perhaps because of a malfunction, perhaps because it had been plucked out of space by a point-defense laser—and the intercept chrono dropped to single digits. Straker held his breath as it reached zero. If the unlikely happened and the two ships crashed head-on despite the vastness of space, he’d never know it. The Archer would be obliterated, and the destroyer would probably be crippled.
The two icons merged on the tactical plot, and then separated with no collision. Those of the corvette and the attack ships passed by the Revenge, well outside the line of travel. The six pips representing the float mines pulsed ominously, and Straker held another breath, waiting, waiting…
The destroyer’s icon met a mine, which disappeared. “Give me a tight optical, maximum magnification!” Straker barked.
“On screen.”
The screen cleared to show the destroyer still traveling, her fusion engine flaring without letup.
“Must not have been close enough,” he muttered.
“That appears to be the case,” said the weapons officer. “The disadvantage of proximity fusing is, detonation is only triggered when the target ceases approaching and begins moving away. This reduces the impact of the blast.”
Straker rounded on the w
eapons officer. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“You’re the War Male. I’m following your orders.”
“Dammit! Can you command-detonate the mines?”
“Yes.”
Holding a tight leash on his temper, Straker said, “Then do so, as effectively as possible. Don’t forget to take transmission lag into account.”
“Of course not, sir.” The weapons officer skimmed two tentacles over his console. “Mines two and three command-detonated.”
The optical view whited out again, and when the destroyer was again visible, it appeared crumpled, bent in the center.
“Is she still on course toward more mines?”
“No, sir. The explosion diverted her path.”
“Save the mines, then,” said Straker. “Shut them down. We’ll recover them later. Comlink to Liberator.”
“Comlink remains open.”
“Carla, you there?”
“I’m here, Derek.”
“I think we got them. We’re shutting down the mines. You’re cleared to approach and see if there are any survivors. Don’t…”
The optical view flared yet again with a large fusion explosion.
“I thought I said to shut down all the mines!”
“That was not a mine, sir,” said the weapons officer. “That was an internal detonation. It appears the enemy triggered a fusion warhead inside their own ship.”
“Damn fanatics. What’s wrong with these people?” Straker stared for a moment at the spreading debris, somehow feeling cheated by his prey. He deliberately reminded himself of the larger issues, and the fact that they’d won.
“All right. We did it… Stand down everyone. Let’s go home.”
“Home?” asked Engels.
Straker took a deep breath, sighing with relief. “Freiheit. That’s home now.”
Chapter 44
Aboard Freiheit.
As he walked along a paved path from the mechsuit factory toward the Base Control Center, Straker imagined the gray of sidespace surrounding Freiheit and he shivered. For some reason the asteroid, as large as it was, felt more vulnerable to the oddity of the alternate dimension, as if the void were trying to break in and devour everyone. Maybe it was because there was so much space inside Freiheit, without the nearby walls of a ship or the cocoon of a mechsuit cockpit to swaddle him.
