“Just a second,” Candle said. “I think you’ll find it advantageous to not fire on us.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Do you think my orders were to come and reveal myself to you immediately? Wouldn’t it have been much smarter to hold Captain Middleton at gunpoint and force him to tell you that all is well aboard the Charger?”
Beitler drummed her fingers against her chair’s armrest. “Do you mean to try convincing me that you’re going against your captain?”
“I do. Because I am. We are: I also have the New Jersey’s marine commander here with me, along with half the marine company, and they’re all of the same mind. Captain Thatcher’s been a disappointment to us, and with the Cluster changing like it is, we plan to look to other horizons to make our fortunes.”
“What horizons?”
Candle shrugged. “I know you probably won’t admit to working with Reardon Interstellar, but everyone knows you are. If you ask me, Reardon should just come out and admit it—though I guess they want plausible deniability, in case the wormhole reopens. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I don’t think the wormhole is going to open, and I never joined Frontier for the sort of ‘good cause’ that seems to drive Thatcher. I joined to make money. If the company’s getting away from that, then I want to join up with a corp that has its shit together. The UNC’s sitting in the middle of the Cluster with its hands tied, which means there’s a killing to be made for corps that move fast enough. If you’re forming a corp, I want in, and so do the marines here. Of course, we’ll want our fair share of any spoils from the battle we’re about to help you win.”
Beitler studied Candle’s face. “You’re asking for a lot of trust based on very little.”
The Frontier officer spread his hands. “What can I do to convince you I’m being honest?”
“You’re not being honest, for one. You’re betraying your captain—that’s not honest. But I can definitely work with it, if I’m persuaded that betrayal is genuine. Here’s what you can do to persuade me. I want intel. And a lot of it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Aboard the Sabre
Epact System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
“If Reardon still wants to maintain deniability,” Candle said from her console display as all seven ships crossed the Epact System together, “then we should probably take out the Jersey and the Victorious and then salvage the scrap from their wrecks. Nothing has to get out about pirates doing Reardon’s dirty work for them. And as an added bonus, Frontier and Sunder will both lose their CEOs, along with a bunch of execs, in Frontier’s case. Ramon Pegg will be happy about that.”
“I still haven’t said we’re working with Reardon,” Beitler said, and Candle just rolled his eyes. That made her smile in spite of herself. “How many missiles does each ship carry?”
She’d taken Candle off the bridge’s main screen and replaced his image there with a tactical display, so that her officers could focus on the coming engagement. In the meantime, she busied herself with extracting all the information she could before reaching the moon Prosper Station orbited. “I don’t know about the Victorious,” Candle said, “but the Jersey has nearly its full complement of Hellborns, less the four we’ve fired since we last restocked in the Clime Region. So, forty-six.”
“Her other weapons are fully operational, I presume?”
“I’m afraid so. Her automated railgun turrets are online, and so is her primary laser—although without me on board, Thatcher will have to rely on Tim Ortega to operate the primary, and he isn’t as good a shot. The secondary lasers are all in working order as well, and the Jersey’s gunner crews are among the best in the Cluster. You may have six ships at your disposal, Captain—seven, counting the Charger—but it wouldn’t be smart to count Thatcher out yet. I watched him outmaneuver seven ships in Olent, and neutralize all of them with just the Jersey and the Squall.”
“We’re ten minutes from entering effective firing range on the targets, ma’am,” Earl Van de Hey said.
“Acknowledged.” She turned back to Candle. “The Squall is an electronic warfare ship, correct?
“Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
“She was destroyed in the engagement near Prosper Station, along with the Sunder logistics vessel, the Lightfoot.”
“Very good. I heard Thatcher’s victory in Olent hinged on tricks he played using his eWar ship, so I’m glad to hear it’s gone.”
Candle nodded. “Exactly.”
Beitler was watching the Frontier officer closely. “I also heard he did something fancy with his missiles. Something unheard of. Were you planing to mention that, Commander?”
“It didn’t seem necessary, since that maneuver required extensive jamming to pull off—something Thatcher couldn’t execute now even if he had the Squall, with the way you’ve spread out your ships. I don’t want to waste our time discussing tactics not relevant to the immediate engagement.”
“Right.” She leaned back in her chair a little, considering the tactical display on the bridge’s main screen. “Under normal circumstances, I’d order all ships to target down the destroyer first. But you’ve made me consider that focusing our fire on Thatcher’s light cruiser might be the best move, here.”
“It likely is, Captain.”
She hadn’t yet told Candle her name, so he’d resorted to calling her “captain.” If they both got through this engagement intact, she intended to change that. Candle had a certain charm about him, and though he had to be at least fifteen years her junior, she’d begun to wonder if a dinner with him in her quarters might be arranged. I can help you rise far in the corp we’re building. If you play your cards right. The thought surprised her, but it also curled the corners of her lips. My, my.
Earl Van de Hey went rigid at his console again. “Ma’am.” For a moment, he didn’t continue. His gaze flitted to her console, then to her face. “Can I have a word?”
Instantly, she knew something was wrong. “Just say it, Earl.”
“I’ve been analyzing the debris around Prosper Station. There’s no way four vessels were destroyed there, as our new friend is claiming. It can’t have been any more than two ships. The ones Thatcher and his people destroyed themselves.”
Beitler turned back to her console’s screen and attempted to burn a hole through Candle’s skull with her gaze. “You have ten seconds to explain the meaning of this.”
“Only two ships?” Candle wore a blank expression. “That doesn’t make any sense. You must be missing some sensor data. Here, I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Wait. Missing sensor data?” Beitler narrowed her eyes. “That’s impossible. We’ve been running active scans ever since we arrived in—”
But the display had gone blank. Candle had cut off their conversation.
“The Charger just launched an Ogre at us,” Van de Hey shouted. “Her batteries are firing on us as well!”
Then came the rumble of solid-core rounds hitting her ship.
“You bastard,” she spat, meaning Candle, though Van de Hey shot her a scandalized look. “Tactical, fire back with everything we have!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aboard the New Jersey
Epact System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
“They sniffed out the Charger early, Captain,” Lucy Guerrero said, barely able to push the words out. “They’re firing on her.”
Damn. A few more minutes would have put the pirates right where he wanted them. So much of warfare was appearing weaker than you really were, so the enemy would attack you where you wanted them to.
I can still work with this. But it’s going to be a slugfest, now. “Engines full ahead, Helm, and Guerrero, have the Victorious join the charge. Tell the support ships to come out from behind that moon. I want the Squall to jam as many of the ships firing on the Charger as she can.”
“Just to confirm, sir—not omnidirectional jamming, then?”
“Correct. Directional only. We certainly aren’t running from this, and we can’t afford to blind ourselves.”
Cruiser and destroyer raced across the intervening void, mere minutes from entering effective firing range. In the meantime, Candle was taking a beating in the Charger. The corvette had no shields, and though its small complement of repair drones buzzed across her hull, welding rifts shut here and replacing sections there as the ship fled at full power, their efforts were already being overtaken by the sheer firepower the pirates were bringing to bear.
Did this mean Candle was loyal after all, or merely that he intended to wait until after the engagement to move against Thatcher? He couldn’t tell, but it did come as a relief that the Charger hadn’t joined the pirates in fighting him. He wouldn’t have wanted to destroy a ship with several of his officers and half his marines aboard it.
“Ortega, calculate a firing solution for the corvette I’m designating.” He tapped the icon representing the target, and the vessel flashed red inside the holotank at the CIC’s fore, just as it would on his Chief Tactical Officer’s display. “Let’s open with a Hellborn and follow with laserfire from our forward gunners. Send your targeting data to Guerrero, for sharing with the Victorious.”
“Aye, sir.”
Mittelman had again made himself useful soon after their initial meeting, by providing intelligence on three of the six pirate ships that had appeared in Epact. The corvette Thatcher had designated was one of them, and according to the spymaster’s profile, it lacked shields. It also sat in the dead center of the pirate formation, close enough to pressure the Charger but too far for the Squall to jam her. Neutralizing that corvette would go a long way to securing his people’s safety.
“I have the firing solution, Captain,” Ortega said. “Ready to fire on your command.”
“Fire.”
The Jersey shuddered with the Hellborn’s departure, and moments later the Squall rounded the moon’s horizon, popping onto the tactical display. She was followed almost immediately by the Lightfoot.
Excellent. “Have our logistics ship make for the Charger with all haste, Guerrero, to add her repair drones to the corvette’s.”
The eWar ship would have begun jamming the two nearest pirate vessels—both frigates—the moment she had line of sight, and soon Thatcher saw the effects of that interference: those ships began shooting wild, their fire tapering as they tried to fight off the jamming.
In the meantime, the Jersey’s Hellborn struck home, slamming into her target’s hull and blasting her open wide enough that it would take repair drones ten minutes or more to mend the fissure.
Thatcher’s eyes locked onto the back of his tactical officer’s head. “The forward gunners will direct their fire into that spot.”
“Aye, sir.”
Blue laserfire shot across the battlespace from multiple batteries, and a pair of Hellborns from the Victorious closed in to finish the job. The targeted corvette ruptured all along her hull, expelling equipment and crew into the breathless void.
The Lightfoot’s first repair drones landed on the Charger, which was finally putting meaningful distance between it and its pursuers. The three remaining unjammed pirate vessels now turned their attention on the ships that had just dismantled one of their own.
“Reverse thrust, Helm. Guerrero, signal to the Victorious to do the same.”
“Aye, sir,” came the reply from both officers.
The jammed frigates would be clearing their sensors about now, no doubt with the help of sensor feeds from their allied ships. That left the enemy captains with a choice: continue chasing the Charger, make for the Squall, or join their allies in chasing down Captains Thatcher and Moll.
He decided he would make the choice for them. “Ortega, target the Sabre with our primary laser.” Unlike the corvette they’d destroyed, Thatcher knew this ship to have shields. He lacked any intel about the other frigate, but it was of a similar make, and he felt safe assuming it also had them. Currently, neither vessel had shields raised, but by leading with his primary he gave himself the chance of melting part of the Sabre’s hull, while still having a meaningful effect if she raised her shields, since lasers worked best for taking those down.
The Sunder destroyer quickly added her own primary to Jersey’s, and while they connected only briefly with the frigate’s exposed hull, once she raised her shields they began to shimmer spastically under the strain.
All five pirate ships were giving chase, now. The frigates loosed a missile each, then followed with lasers of their own, while the remaining corvette fired railguns, as did the two converted freighters. Every shot had been aimed at the New Jersey as she continued to fall back.
“Shields up,” Thatcher said.
“Aye, sir.” Ortega tapped at his console. “Raising shields now.”
The concentrated fire hammered the force field, causing it to ripple with even greater violence than the Sabre’s.
Guerrero gripped both sides of her console as she stared at the falling numbers, calling them out. “Down to seventy-four percent shield power, sir. Sixty-eight percent. Sixty-three.”
But Thatcher’s attention was on the holotank, where the 3D model representing the New Jersey inched backward, getting closer and closer to Prosper Station as the pirates continued to abuse her shield.
“Fifty-one percent.” Guerrero’s voice thrummed with tension. “Forty-four.”
The shields fell all the way to thirty-two percent—and then his operations officer gave an audible sigh of relief. “The station has begun maser energy transfer, sir. Shield power is still dropping, but much slower now. Thirty-one percent.”
At that moment, the Sabre’s shields gave way under the concentrated firepower of Jersey’s and Victorious’s primary lasers. The bright beams extended to connect with her hull once more, and though she reversed thrust immediately, trying to evade the lasers while her repair drones scurried toward the damage, it was too late. The energy being dumped into the Sabre’s frame tore her apart.
Thatcher allowed himself a small smile. The pirates from the last engagement, who’d used the station to bolster their own shields, had shown him a neat trick, and he wasn’t above learning from his enemies. Far from it. Your greatest enemy is your greatest teacher. A Buddhist proverb, if he remembered correctly. He wondered what Ramon Pegg would have to teach him.
“Target the nearest converted freighter with our primary. And send a Hellborn their way for good measure. Guerrero, request that Captain Moll do the same.” Now that the need to lure the frigates had passed, he could focus on wiping the smaller vessels from the battlespace. “Helm, full ahead thrust.”
The pirates were in retreat, now, perhaps having realized why Jersey had pulled back to the station. It’s too late for you, I’m afraid. He’d positioned a shield readout in the corner of his holoscreen, and he saw its health indicators were all creeping back up. Soon, his cruiser’s receiver array would move out of the station’s microwave beam range, and the numbers would start falling again. But he doubted they’d fall fast enough to matter.
The digital model representing the converted freighter vanished from the tactical display, leaving a shattered wreck in its place. With that, they shifted targets to the other one, which quickly fell.
Two pirate ships remained. Beyond them, Candle had brought the Charger back around, her hull in slightly better condition than before, with the double helping of repair drones working on her.
Thatcher almost chuckled at the textbook neatness of the savage flanking maneuver unfolding within the holotank. Minutes later, the engagement was over, without a single casualty taken.
“The Charger’s hailing us, sir.” Guerrero’s voice came out much steadier than before. “It’s Commander Candle.”
“Put him through.”
Candle’s face replaced the tactical display on the holotank—a 2D representation, since the corvette’s bridge lacked the necessary sensors to render him in 3D.
&nb
sp; “We have a situation over here, sir.”
“What’s going on?”
“Major Hancock’s trying to take over the ship—has been ever since we turned against the pirates, which, uh, wasn’t in the plan he thought I’d agreed to. I’m requesting that you send over some marines whose loyalty can be guaranteed. If you’d like, I can make some recommendations.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aboard the Charger
Epact System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
Corporal Emmons had tried his best to talk Thatcher out of boarding Attack Shuttle Two and heading over to the Charger with his marines, but he failed.
“Get me a suit of power armor,” Thatcher had said flatly. He was willing to make that concession to his safety, but the chance of him remaining on the Jersey, of leaving his mutinying marines for Emmons and his men to deal with, was zero. This was his responsibility.
Emmons had returned his gaze with an anguished expression, but they both knew time was of the essence, and he could no doubt see the resolve in Thatcher’s eyes. This ends today. Either we leave this system with a crew united under my command, or we don’t leave it at all.
Now, he crossed the shuttle’s airlock and stepped over the docking bay’s threshold, his sidearm’s holster unclasped and ready to be drawn. Emmons had already taken in a squad of marines to clear the Charger’s bay, and they’d given the green light for the captain to enter.
When he did, he strode toward the nearby control station connected to the loudspeakers located throughout the ship. Once there, he snatched up the mic and pressed the button to sync it up with his helmet.
“Marines of the New Jersey. I understand Major Hancock has taken it upon himself to make our day even more challenging than it already was. When your commander takes it upon himself to incite a mutiny against your captain while aboard a different vessel altogether, it puts you in a difficult position, and I want every one of you to know I understand that.”
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