“Activating our stealth module,” he said. “Let’s hope nothing shows of that weapon we’re carrying.”
His hands had already adjusted to the compensation required for the death pulse generator, but the Viper’s stealth module added to the strain. Griffin pursed his lips and held tightly to the controls. With delicate movements, he took the spaceship clear of the bay and then increased speed gradually. The Defiant receded into the distance.
“Are we visible?” he asked.
“The guys in the bay say not, sir.”
“Good. Better than good. What’s the latest data on the position of the Ragger fleet?” he asked.
“Not much change – they’re in high orbit around New Destiny, sir.”
Griffin banked and brought the Viper into alignment with the course overlay provided by Dominguez. He didn’t push things, but the spaceship’s engines grumbled and the monitoring tools betrayed how much the propulsion was loaded. The Vipers had always been reliable craft and Griffin knew the technology was going to be tested to its limit.
Once the course was set, Griffin kept one eye on the tactical. The enemy fleet was mostly stationary and clustered, which in normal circumstances would make them more vulnerable. Here, they likely didn’t care because they believed victory was already theirs.
“We’re still getting data from the Vanquisher?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Dominguez. “We’re going to rely on that most of all, since our sensors can’t locate a cloaked Ragger ship.”
“Let’s hope the enemy don’t realize what the Vanquisher’s crew are doing.”
“Indriss-Zar probably thought he was being a winner when he demanded we hand over a Hantisar ship early,” said Dominguez. “Now it’s going to bite him on the ass.”
The Viper had to fly a long distance and Griffin increased speed. The acceleration was far more gradual than usual – nothing like the usual full-thrust kick in the spine.
“We’ve fallen out of the weapons team’s monitoring range, sir,” said Kenyon.
“Not much we can do about that.” Griffin remembered something. “I thought the Raggers were going to use the Vanquisher to attack the Sekar rift,” he mused.
“The Raggers say one thing and make every effort to do something else,” said Dominguez. “Our sensors aren’t strong enough to get a reliable reading on the rift from here.”
“Lieutenant Kenyon – speak to someone on the Avatar and find out if the rift is stable.”
“On it, sir,” said Kenyon. A moment later: “The rift is growing again.”
“Well isn’t that just great? Any sign of Sekar?”
“The Avatar’s sensors are good but not that good, sir.”
“Make sure they update us if they find something new.”
Time passed and the Raider came close enough to the planet that Dominguez was able to obtain a crystal-clear image of the oceans and the continents. Staring at it, Griffin imagined the white-capped waves rolling up the perfect yellow beaches. It only made him angry.
“Eighteen hundred klicks radius on the death pulse,” he said, directing that anger towards the mission ahead. “How many of those assholes can we catch with the first activation?”
“Two options, sir. The maximum is five hundred Ragger ships if we go for the place they’re packed most tightly. If we want to take out Prime002, that number drops to three hundred total.”
“Cut the head off the snake. That’s what Admiral Stone wants, Lieutenant. We’re going for the mothership.”
Griffin gave the tactical his full attention. New Destiny was represented by a rotatable blue sphere and the Ragger warships were red dots scattered above its surface. A single green dot – the Vanquisher – was stationary near Prime002.
“Did they finish the burnout modelling for the death pulse generator?” asked Griffin. “A single discharge won’t be nearly enough.”
“No, sir. We did not receive modelling data. I guess we’re expected to do what we’re going to do.”
The more Griffin thought about it, the more flaws he identified in the plan, like everything was held together by a mesh of fine thread, the compromises loosely tied and wriggling to snap the bonds.
“Right – we’re going to skim the top of the atmosphere and fly past Prime002 at a distance of three hundred klicks,” said Griffin. “We’ll activate the death pulse and take it from there.”
The instruction only required a slight alteration to their course and Griffin adjusted to the new heading. At the Viper’s current speed, the death pulse discharge would take place in five minutes. Griffin’s palms sweated within his flight gloves and his body didn’t know if it felt hot or cold.
“The Vanquisher’s moving, sir,” said Dominguez.
“Do we know why?”
“No, sir,” said Kenyon. “They weren’t able to maintain comms contact after the handover – not without alerting the Raggers to the fact they’re sending us sensor data.”
“I’ve predicted their course, sir,” said Dominguez, stress dripping from her voice. “They’re making for the Sekar rift.”
Griffin chewed his lip. “Maybe they’ve been ordered to fire their tharniol weaponry.”
“Or the Sekar are coming through,” said Dominguez, putting voice to the second possibility. “Prime002 is accelerating in the opposite direction.”
“What about the other ships in the Ragger fleet?”
“They’re moving as well, sir – most are following the mothership.”
The tactical – calm only moments ago – became a morass of red dots accelerating in different directions. They’d likely converge, but for now Griffin couldn’t see where it would happen.
“This is going to screw with the death pulse,” he said.
Dominguez didn’t answer, her attention fixed on her console. “Oh crap.” She swore again. “Something just hit the surface of New Destiny.”
“A weapon?” asked Griffin sharply.
“No, sir. I think it’s Sekar. I’m trying get an enhancement on the sensor.”
It didn’t take her longer than a few seconds. An image came up on the bulkhead screen of a patch of inky blackness in the approximate center of the planet’s largest forest. It took Griffin a moment to comprehend the size of the area covered by the Sekar and another moment to spot the undulations around the edges as the creature spread to cover an even greater part of the forest.
“Everything’s about to turn into a steaming heap of crap,” said Griffin, wondering what the hell he could do to change things. “Get me a new course,” he ordered. “Raggers first, Sekar second.”
“I’m working on that course, sir,” said Dominguez, having to deal with new variables now that Prime002 was on the move.
A vast cloud of darkness and fire appeared on the feed, a roiling explosion which completely obscured the Sekar on New Destiny. A second explosion came and then a third.
“The Vanquisher,” said Griffin.
“Or the Raggers,” said Dominguez. “Maybe New Destiny is a prize they don’t want to lose – not to the Sekar anyway.”
“Not a chance, Lieutenant. The Raggers don’t care if we live or die.”
The Vanquisher diverted from its previous heading. The Hantisar battleship’s vantrium drive gave it punishing acceleration and the spaceship raced across the tactical. Griffin had no idea what its crew intended, or even if they were in full control.
One thing was sure: the fan was spinning and the shit was on a high-speed collision course with the blades.
“I think it’s time for Admiral Stone to commit,” said Griffin.
“I’ll pass on your recommendation via the Avatar, sir.”
New Destiny was so close that Griffin could clearly see the towns and cities along the coastline far below. The Durham base was a few hundred klicks ahead and there lived the hopes and dreams not only of Captain Conway, but of so many others.
“Get me that course!” snapped Griffin, harsher than he meant. “Sorry.”
/> “I’ve got what you need, sir. On your tactical.”
Prime002 was a fast ship and it wasn’t travelling in a completely straight line. Even so, Dominguez had worked out an intercept course and Griffin banked to bring the Raider onto a new heading, all the while keeping the spaceship clear of the atmosphere to avoid heat buildup that might damage the precariously-constructed weapon hanging by gravity chains underneath.
Meanwhile, the Vanquisher continued streaming data from its sensors about the movement of the Ragger fleet – data it would be unable to transmit once Prime002 went blindside of New Destiny.
“We’re going to lose sight of the mothership soon,” said Dominguez. “Then it’ll be fire and hope.”
The crew of the Vanquisher had a lot on their plates and Griffin saw them adjust course again, to keep Prime002 in sensor sight. Indriss-Zar-005 would already know that the crew of the Hantisar battleship had mutinied, and it was a question of how long until he decided to punish the citizens of New Destiny.
“Prime002 has gone blindside, sir. It brought a lot of ships with it. A hell of a lot of ships.”
“Word from the Avatar, sir. Our fleet is moving.”
“The die is well and truly cast,” muttered Griffin.
“The Sekar rift is still growing, sir.”
The Vanquisher gave up its pursuit of Prime002 and Griffin expected its crew would focus on the Sekar. He watched the tactical anxiously for the first sign of a weapons launch. So far – nothing.
“If the Vanquisher gets knocked out, will the rest of the fleet be able to detect the Raggers?” asked Griffin.
“Not perfectly – not until they’re a lot closer.”
The Raider continued along its intercept course and the sphere that was New Destiny rotated on the tactical. A red line – the anticipated trajectory of Prime002 - became visible, way over the curvature.
“Add another overlay,” Griffin ordered. “A sphere – radius eighteen hundred klicks.”
Dominguez had it on the tactical in seconds and Griffin watched the furthest edge of the death pulse sphere as it neared the projected course of Prime002. With the moment approaching, he felt the stress building like a rapidly tightening hand around his throat. The sphere overlapped the red line but Griffin held, not wishing to miss what might be a single chance to take out the Ragger commanding officer.
“Sir?”
“I know.”
The overlap extended by a hundred klicks and then two hundred. With Prime002 out of sensor sight, the margin for error on the course prediction was growing with each second.
“Screw it,” said Griffin.
He activated the death pulse.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The physical effects of the death pulse made a bad lightspeed transition feel as pleasant as a summer breeze. The pain, the aches and the general feelings of crapness tried and failed to interfere with Griffin’s concentration. With so much riding on his ability to stay focused, he brushed these distractions aside and treated them as no more than a minor irritation.
For several seconds immediately after the discharge, the monitoring gauges on the bridge went crazy, jumping around and refusing to settle. Such was the effect on the Raider’s propulsion that Griffin thought it would stall and the engine note went up and down, regardless of his attempts to assert control.
Bit-by-bit, the spaceship’s onboard systems recovered and the crew got a grip on the hardware.
“Report!” said Griffin.
“No sign of the Ragger ships, sir. The death pulse won’t bring them out of stealth. It’ll just kill the crews.”
“I’ve advised the Avatar,” said Kenyon. “Admiral Isental asked about the death pulse agitation. I don’t know what that means, sir.”
The mission briefing hadn’t covered everything, but Griffin had learned about the limitations on the death pulse recharge. A tiny transmitter fitted to the death pulse sent data on the weapon’s status to the Raider’s mainframe.
“High levels of agitation,” read Griffin. “Do not discharge.”
“I’ve given you a new heading based on sensor readings from the Vanquisher, sir.”
Griffin altered course at once and when the Raider was set, he used one hand to rotate the sphere on his tactical. The Vanquisher’s sensors had detected a large group of enemy warships a third of a turn around the planet. At that moment, the red dots began flashing to indicate the positional data was no longer being updated.
“They took out the Vanquisher.”
“I can’t confirm that, sir.”
The planet sped by underneath and Griffin watched the death pulse sphere advance across the tactical.
“Did you have enough time to obtain a course prediction on any of those spaceships?”
“For some of them. I’m analyzing to find out if they’re aiming for the same place.”
“How long before one of them decides to drop incendiaries?” asked Kenyon.
The rest of the ULAF fleet was a long way off and would be unable to shoot down the Ragger bombs if the enemy attacked the planet. It seemed to Griffin that the best hope was to rely on confusion and to take out as many of the alien ships while the going was good.
“High levels of agitation,” he repeated, after another glance at the status panel.
The death pulse sphere overlapped the now-static position of the red dots on the tactical. With no idea where those ships had gone, Griffin could only guess at their location. He held off for as long as possible.
“Activating death pulse.”
The second time was no easier to bear than the first and sour bile rose in Griffin’s throat. For thirty seconds, he felt like he was suffering the worst hangover of his life and then it faded almost as quickly as it had come. At the same time as he fought against the intense discomfort, Griffin was required to keep the Raider under control. He wasn’t entirely sure how he managed, but somehow nothing went wrong.
“Ultra-high levels of agitation. Device destruction possible. Do not discharge,” he read through stinging eyes that felt like they had a spoonful of ground glass rubbed into each.
“Sounds like a challenge to me,” said Dominguez.
“Me too,” added Kenyon.
Griffin would have gladly accepted that challenge as well, except that he was left with no reliable positional data on the Ragger fleet. As well as that, he didn’t know exactly what destruction entailed. A simple explosion was one thing – a massive blast that wiped out New Destiny was another thing altogether.
Suddenly, a smattering of red dots appeared on the tactical. They flashed and then stabilized.
“The approaching fleet is getting a better view on the enemy, sir,” said Dominguez excitedly.
More dots appeared over the planet’s largest ocean and the pattern snapped into place in Griffin’s mind.
“They’re converging,” he said. Griffin knew the planet well and he traced an imaginary line across the surface. “The Durham base,” he said.
“I think they’re just making for land, sir.”
“They’re going to attack.”
“Our fleet is too far away. There’s no way we’ll be able to intercept the enemy weapons.”
Griffin knew it too. He didn’t require a trajectory line on the tactical for what he planned and he aimed the Raider for the same land mass.
“Sir, you’re coming too close to the enemy fleet,” said Dominguez. “They might see us.”
“They might. We’ve got to stick with them, Lieutenant. And give this death pulse a chance to recover from the last discharge.”
From her mumbled response, Dominguez wasn’t convinced. Griffin hoped he hadn’t misjudged – the enemy were on a straight-line course and the Raider would arrive too late if he diverged. Red dots surrounded the Viper and Griffin was hard pressed to stay more than ten kilometers from the enemy warships. He looked anxiously around, but the Raider’s sensors couldn’t penetrate stealth. As far as he could see, the skies were empty.
&nb
sp; “Continental landmass five hundred klicks ahead, sir.”
The tactical was looking busy and a target count informed Griffin the Raggers had 172 warships within a hundred klicks of the Raider.
“How far out can they launch incendiaries, sir?” asked Kenyon.
“I don’t think we have that data, Lieutenant.”
“Maybe it’s time.”
“I think you’re right.”
Griffin closed his eyes in anticipation of the pain. He fired the death pulse and agony washed over him. It was much worse than before, like his body had been worn down by the previous two expulsions. The soldiers on Glesia had endured many more than three death pulses and Griffin briefly wondered if they were simply tougher than he was, or if the ULAF version of the death pulse was somehow dirtier or more intense.
The death pulse hardware didn’t explode and the Raider didn’t crash down into the ocean below. For a time, it appeared as though nothing had happened to the Raggers, but then a few of their spaceships began drifting off course.
“Did we…?”
“I don’t know,” said Griffin. “We fired three times and I still don’t know.”
His eyes caught sight of the status screen.
“Agitation levels critical. Destruction imminent.”
Griffin switched off the status display. His hands pulled back on the sticks and the Raider climbed reluctantly.
“We’re pulling out folks. What’s done is done.”
“Ragger fleet approaching New Durham, sir.”
In silence, Griffin watched at the same time as he brought the Raider away from the planet.
“No sign of a launch, sir.”
The mid-range tactical slowly filled with green dots as the ULAF fleet closed in. They were still too far away, but it wouldn’t be long.
“The Ragger fleet overshot, sir. Still no launch.”
Griffin couldn’t resist. He switched the death pulse module status display on again.
“Agitation levels critical. Destruction imminent.”
“No change is good change, huh?” said Kenyon.
Ten minutes later, Griffin was drawn to the conclusion that the death pulse module wasn’t going to explode. Even so, he didn’t return to New Destiny. The Raider was on a new course, to tie up one more loose end.
Scum of the Universe (Fire and Rust Book 7) Page 24
