Admiral's War Part Two (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 10)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “What’s she doing?” asked Hammer.

  Not waiting to hear the response, I pulled up an image of the Titan on my personal screen. It was currently shedding escape pods and on a collision course with the Invictus Rising.

  Belatedly, all but one of the Cruisers currently pounding us into attempted submission turned away from the Royal Rage to chase the Metal Titan.

  The shield strength of the area of overlapping shields facing the Metal Titan started to strengthen and the entire broadside, as well as every other ship within range, started firing on Rampage’s Battleship.

  Another sudden flurry of escape pods flew out and the Battleship’s engines flared before being struck by the full force and fury of half a dozen Cruisers—each of which now had a clear up-the-kilt shot. The engines flickered and died, but the Battleship was still falling toward the Invictus Rising.

  “The Command Carrier will be able to shoot her main cannon before the Titan can get to her,” shouted Brightenbauc from his console at navigation where he’d been running the numbers.

  “I’m reading a charge from the Lucky Clover but I don’t think she’ll be able to fire before the Rising,” reported Sensors.

  “Come on!” I glared at the screen, toggling the zoom function first to look at the Imperial Command Carrier and then at the half built Lucky Clover 2.0.

  The Imperial ship, despite its heavy engine damage, looked just like you’d expect: large, powerful, majestic, and—above all—incredibly deadly. Apart from the pair of impacts Spalding had managed, the rest of the Command Carrier was seemingly untouched by everything that the Sector 25 fleet had thrown at it.

  “I have movement in front of the Clover!” cried a Sensor Operator with the sound of excitement and disbelief entwined in her voice.

  At first all I saw were fighters moving around, their fire raking the half-built warship. Damage and small explosions caused by the fighter’s missiles wracked the lumbering vessel’s hull and then, as if in unison, both of her accompanying warships moved.

  The Furious Phoenix fell back in a spiral maneuver as she picked off Imperial Strike fighters with an unending spray of point defense and plasma cannon fire. At the same time, the North Hampton lit off a single drive at less than half power and moved directly in front of the Lucky Clover, totally occluding her line of fire—and, at the same time, blocking the Invictus Rising’s shot with the only thing she had available: her own hull, and the bodies of her entire crew.

  “What is she doing?” Steiner whispered, looking at the North Hampton with disbelief. Hammer and I shared a short, but meaningful look.

  “The North Hampton’s shields facing the enemy have risen back to maximum,” reported the Sensor Chief from his station down in the sensor pit.

  “Any sign they’re releasing escape pods?” I asked, closing my eyes. I knew what I’d see: absolutely nothing.

  “No, Admiral. No sign,” reported Hammer her voice detached as her fingers tapped on a data interface, “Records indicate records indicate the current captain, a Charlie McBride, formerly the XO on an Alliance Cutter.

  “Where they probably didn’t have escape pods,” I finished. We had a green captain, with a green crew scraped up from the bottom of the barrel back at Gambit Station. And the worst of it was that while I wished that they’d use the escape pods to save who they could, even more I wished that even if it took the sacrifice of every single person onboard the North Hampton they just might save—

  “The Rising just fired,” Lieutenant Hart reported in a steady voice.

  I opened my eyes, fearing what I’d see.

  In a flash, the main cannon of the Imperial Warship fired. That terrible, white beam—which had completely destroyed the heavily armed, armored and shielded Wolf-9’s Starbase—once again lanced out and scoured the space between the mighty, titanic warships.

  Oh, how I wished I had such a weapon. At the same time, an undeniable hate for it grew within my belly. The Imperials could smash everything in their path with that monstrous weapon, and so far nothing we had could stand against it—certainly not a Battleship or a half-built titan, in my opinion.

  Right before the Imperial cannon hit, the North Hampton started a roll. Her captain had already shown his bravery and mettle by interposing his ship between the Imperial Command Carrier and our side’s only hope of defeating it. But, despite the failure to send his crew to the pods, the sudden roll showed that he might not be entirely lacking in normal thought and the potential for intelligent action.

  “We’re receiving a transmission from the North Hampton,” reported Lieutenant Steiner, her voice barely emerging from the background noise. Because, at that moment and on the main-screen for all to see, the Imperial weapon struck the North Hampton.

  Shields flared, and then failed entirely as the North Hampton’s shield generator overloaded. The overload destroyed the generator in a spectacular explosion—but it was one that didn’t hold a candle to the main show as the beam scourged the Battleship’s hull.

  After punching through the shields, the white beam slammed into the hull and tunneled through her heavy armor and straight into the guts of the North Hampton and, as I watched, punched right out the other side!

  The North Hampton was wracked with internal damage and explosive decompression from both sides of her hull—but the Imperial beam wasn’t yet done. It had originally been aimed at Spalding and the Lucky Clover and it was not yet completely expended.

  The Imperials’ attack was weakened, but not yet done as it stuck the half-built titan in front of her head-on.

  “The Lucky Clover’s shields—“ started Hart as the Clover’s forward facing shields proved to be much stronger, only to fall silent as they flared majestically and the white beam of death sheared through them.

  “Someone started trying to maneuver the ship a few seconds before the beam attack hit the North Hampton,” reported the Sensor Chief in an unsteady voice as the beam struck the thick forward facing armor of the Lucky Clover, the only part of the ship that seemed to be ‘mostly’ completed being the face of its front end.

  “Too little, too late,” remarked Hammer as the North Hampton’s roll caused the beam to flicker briefly, and then there was an explosion on the starboard bow of the 2.0.

  “Punch-through,” Hart reported steadily as the sensor feed flickered due to the new damage.

  “Blast,” muttered the ship’s XO, and for a long moment even the Imperial fighters seemed to pause in their attack and perform a victory roll away from the ship—and the potentially lethal deadly beam—instead of continuing the attack.

  Then the sensors started cleared and the pit in my stomach seemed to grow in size until it was the size of a rock. There was a hole in the front of the 2.0—or make that two holes, counting the forward-facing opening of the 2.0’s plasma cannon.

  A groan seemed to echo throughout the ship as the image of the damage came in. There was now a giant, gaping hole that started from what would have been a person’s nose and exited out through the side or what would have been the equivalent of the ears, if the ship’s bow had been a human face.

  “The 2.0 still appears to have helm control. She’s…adjusting her position with maneuver thrusters. She’s turning back up to face the Invictus Rising with her plasma cannon, Admiral!” the Sensor Chief cried with disbelief.

  “What?” demanded Captain Hammer before turning to her bridge. “Verify that reading, Bridge!”

  “And sensors show her energy banks are continuing to build to a critical charge!” reported the Sensor Chief as the now-powerless derelict that was the North Hampton continued to roll and slowly tumbled past the 2.0, its hull still wracked with explosions as it drifted clear of the 2.0’s firing arc.

  The Imperial Fighters suddenly swarmed back toward the 2.0, and belatedly the escape pods started coming off the North Hampton.

  I felt a sense of relief so powerful that I literally swayed, and it was at that moment I knew just how far I’d fallen because I didn�
��t care that the North Hampton was for all intents and purposes gone—I only cared that the 2.0 and its big cannon had been saved. I realized in that moment, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I was a terrible person.

  Then, like a growing thunder, the bridge broke out into spontaneous cheers.

  “Will she survive if she fires again?” I asked, forced to yell the question over the clamor that was one part relief and two parts pure, savage desire for revenge—revenge over what we and the rest of Sector 25’s Amalgamated Fleet had been forced to endure for the past day as the Imperials had ground us down.

  Hammer looked even more concerned that I did. The Imperial Beam had, in spacer terms, struck right beside plasma cannon’s barrel. It was anyone’s guess if it could fire again, or at least whether it could do so without tearing the entire front end of the ship to pieces!

  “Unknown, Admiral,” she said seriously. The rest of the bridge cheered and, as the 2.0 lined back up ponderously for another attack, I felt a chill run up and down my spine.

  Chapter One hundred fifteen: He was the very model of an old, outdated space engineer

  “There’s too much damage to the bow, Spalding. We must withdraw—at least until we’ve had the chance to get eyes on it and assess the damage,” urged Baldwin.

  “I’m afraid she’s right, Sir. We need to get a team out to the front end of the ship pronto,” agreed Brence.

  Spalding’s eyes shot over to Parkiney, and the crew chief reluctantly nodded his agreement.

  The Commander’s eyes hardened. “So you’ve all turned against me,” he said to the instant disagreement of two voices—voices which he ignored—as he pulled up the schematics and peered at the affected areas.

  “Sir—” started Brence.

  “No time, lad. I understand what you’re saying, but there’s literally no time. It’d take at least half an hour to get a team up there and then assess the damage. From the recharge rate on that Carrier, it’ll take less than twenty for her to fire again. No,” Spalding shook his head mulishly, “this ship is over-engineered. She’s been made right. When they say ‘they don’t make them like they used to anymore,’ this, boys, is how they used to make them! She can handle it.”

  “She’s half-built, Spalding,” the Construction Manager interjected, her voice pleading, “even if she’s designed to handle it, she’s not done yet. You…we took her into battle half-ready. If you honestly can’t get to and assess the damage before they attack again then…”

  “Then lass?” Spalding prompted with a frown.

  “You have to get all hands to the escape pods,” she said finally, “we did our best. It was a great effort—a better one than I even thought possible, but…”

  “And let that oversized particle cannon—that white beam of death, belched from the Demon’s own guts—destroy the Lucky Clover without lifting so much as a finger in response?” he asked with disbelief, which quickly turned to anger as he asked the question and got his own internal answer. “Not just ‘no,’ but Hades no, Glenda! This is not the civilian freighter fleet that you’re used to—this is a warship. She’s sworn to defend the space ways against any enemy foreign or domestic. She’ll not withdraw. She’ll fight! Frankly I’m more worried about those fighters outside than I am the damage we took. But either way, we’ll go down with all hands willing if that’s what it takes to stop the Empire cold. In the name of the Sweet Saint himself, I say enough and no more,” he made a chopping gesture with his hands, “it’s time to show the Empire what we’re made of out here in the Spineward Sectors!”

  “Grit and determination,” Parkiney took the moment to chime in.

  “And we are chock full of that, man!” Spalding agreed.

  “At least use one of the lighter rounds,” she urged.

  Spalding shook his head. “And give them an even better chance to survive than they already have? They’ve taken two shots from the cannon already. I give them another one, we’ll be as good as dead then wouldn’t we?” he asked rhetorically and then turned to Tactical.

  “What’s your order, Sir?” asked Brence from where he now stood, having moved while Spalding wasn’t looking, a hand placed on the shoulder of the skittish looking ensign manning the console.

  Spalding nodded again. He was a good lad—despite the tendency toward squeamishness.

  “Reload!” he cried, stomping over to the captain’s chair his metal feet clanking as he moved. This wasn’t a matter of calculations anymore. It was a matter of belief and, even half-finished, he believed in the Lucky Clover more than he did any other ship built by human hands.

  “Size, sir?” Brence asked, his hands squeezing the Ensigns shoulder.

  “We’re going to give those Imperials the surprise of their lives. We’ll use another bunker buster,” he ordered. It was time to lay it on the line, go all-in, and let it all hang out.

  It took half a minute to finish running a diagnostic on the HCP, which came back clean.

  Spalding looked over at Glenda and raised his brows. “What,” he asked, “no calls to be put off the ship on an escape pod?”

  “I’ll see it through,” she said shortly and then, after a moment, added less stiffly, “I want these Imperials dead and gone just as much as you do. I just objected to doing it in a ship that still belongs in a construction slip, with a crew that deserves to still be at the academy learning their jobs instead of out here risking their lives.”

  Spalding nodded. He understood completely. “Remind me to tell you someday about Grandfather, Old Reliable’s, training cruise,” he said, turning back to look at the Imperials one last time before giving the order. “Are you sure you have her locked in, Tactical?”

  “She’s ready, Commander,” said Brence.

  “Good lad,” Spalding said absently then took a breath and drew himself up. “Then by all means—fire!”

  At Brence’s nod, the Ensign pressed the firing button on his console.

  The entire ship seemed to shudder and then, with a crash that threw everyone forward in their seats, the bridge went as dark as a black hole.

  Chapter One hundred sixteen: The Metal Titan

  “This is Captain Charlie McBride. I just wanted to say that every person on this ship decided to stay at our posts and make sure the Lucky Clover had another chance at that Imperial Carrier. We made a conscious choice to stay at our posts and do our darnedest to stop the Empire, Little Admiral,” said the woman on the screen from her seat in the captain’s chair before the message suddenly ended.

  “Who was that?” I asked, feeling a hint of admiration for their brave—and, maybe, ultimately stupid actions, but brave nonetheless.

  “Captain McBride, Sir,” Hammer said, looking at me head cocked.

  “I thought Charlie McBride was a man!” I said, feeling my face coloring with a hint of redness.

  “Learn something new every day, don’t we, Admiral?” she asked jokingly, to help take our minds off the North Hampton and what the Metal Titan was about to do, “You know, I’ve known Charlie’s, Sam’s and even one Bob—short for Roberta. Tried to get her to go by Berta while onboard, but she insisted that everyone back home just called her Bob and she was used to it. Heck, I even knew a guy in security named Sue—meanest, toughest bar fighter I ever knew. Just goes to show you can’t judge a spacer on first name’s alone.”

  “The Clover 2.0 just fired,” reported Hart.

  “Does the Metal Titan have enough time?” Hammer asked with concern.

  “It’s going to be tight, Captain,” reported the Lieutenant, “running the numbers now.”

  “Someone warn the Marines to hunker down and secure themselves to the hull. They’re going to have a bumpy ride,” I said with a pang at the thought that more of our own people were going to die today thanks to the efforts of their own side.

  “On it,” said Lieutenant Steiner.

  Despite everything the Carrier and her Cruisers could do, the Metal Titan continued on its collision course with the Command Carrier. T
he enemy had tried to delay her, but…

  Hart looked back up and shook his head, causing me to wince. Hopefully they didn’t mess up the targeting solution for the 2.0’s plasma round.

  As we watched, the Metal Titan slammed into the rear of the Invictus Rising and I actually shuddered. I could only hope the Titan’s heroic efforts wouldn’t let the Demon into the Clover’s firing solution.

  Shields flared, crumpling the nose of the Metal Titan, and then the beleaguered MSP Battleship showed exactly why she was considered armor-heavy while the now defunct Messene’s Shield had been a shield-heavy ship. Taking a blow that would have folded the Shield in half—if the Shield hadn’t already been in two pieces, the Metal Titan continued on. Her nose had been pushed to the side so, instead of ramming point-on to the side of the Invictus Rising, the Titan slammed into the rear of the Imperial Warship.

  Battered, dented, and now with her port side crushed into the rest of the ship, the Titan careened away. She was now totally dead in space, adrift with what little remained of her inertia.

  Captain Rampage had done his job better than even I could have asked from him, but despite all of that, other than some crushed and fractured hull crystal, the Carrier looked like it had survived. Unfortunately, considering the current state of the Invictus Rising’s engine and thruster status, the nose of the Imperial warship turned from the force of the blow and kept going.

  “What’s the status on the Clover’s strike—will it still hit?” I queried urgently.

  But there was no time for anyone to answer as the plasma round streaked across the intervening space between the Clover and the Command Carrier. In a way, I guess I wouldn’t have wanted to know the answer anyway.

  I wanted to close my eyes and have someone wake me up when it was over, but I was the ‘Little Admiral’—I didn’t have the choice of looking away.

  Then the plasma round arrived and struck the Invictus Rising amidships, seeming to push her back towards us by the sheer force of the blow, and a fiery eruption seemed to wrap around the side of the titanic Carrier which faced the 2.0.