“Throw everything we have at them,” Josette ordered, watching as all of Fidelity’s energy weapons, railguns and missile launchers fired, focused on the forward section of the defense ship. The destroyer, as it passed, returned the favor, savaging Fidelity’s screens. Damage icons started appearing on Josette’s display, and she gritted her teeth.
“Got the bastard!” the tactical officer screamed, punching a fist in the air. “Shields on the destroyer are penetrated on the port side, looks like those missiles blasted open their hull!”
Josette grinned wolfishly. “Good job, Sykes. Helm, bring us around for another attack run. Sykes, get their engines this time.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” the man stated savagely.
“Damage report,” she asked. It would take several minutes to bring the ship around for another pass.
“Starboard shields are down to twelve percent,” the damage control specialist replied. He was a domak, one of the hard-shelled turtle like species and he rubbed one arm absently. “Massive spotting. I’m showing hull damage all along that area, and two sensor clusters are out. Sealing off the area now. Laser battery 1B is damaged, crew is dead.”
“Damn it,” Josette said, clenching a fist. “Helm, once we’re back on an attack course, roll ship to present our port side.” She looked over to the shields operator. “Shields, get those port shields back up. Don’t argue, do it.”
The operator closed his mouth, clearly ready to make some sort of prevarication. “Yes, Captain. Working to restore now.”
She eyed him for a long moment. “Don’t fail me, Reyklan.” He wisely refrained from commenting and just concentrated on his job. She looked away, back to the tactical display.
“Comms, hail the Sever.” A moment later, the channel was open. “Fenton, talk to me. What’s your status?”
There was no video, only an audio transmission, but Josette could hear a lot of background noise on this channel. “We’re holding together, Captain. One of the main engines is out, going to take a complete rebuild to get it back on line. Engine two should be back online within thirty minutes, or so my engineer tells me.”
The Sever was currently on a ballistic course, heading out system. A lucky shot early in the battle had ripped apart her aft shields and smashed their engines. Fenton had returned fire as best he could, but the destroyer’s shields simply absorbed the hits. It would have taken more than one firing pass on the part of the cutter to do any appreciable damage. Now, the small warship was helpless and heading away from the battle. The other four ships had stayed behind, brawling with one another, changing their courses and vectors thus arresting their course toward the hyper limit.
Josette sighed. “Fenton, I am giving you a direct order. Get your engine back on line, repair your shields and then get to the hyper limit. Don’t come back here and try and be a hero. I want you to get back to base and report in. Acknowledge. Now.”
There was a long pause before the man replied. “Fine. I’ll go. Good hunting.” And he cut the connection.
Josette scowled at the display for a moment. She of course, understood Cormyrn’s frustrations, and his humiliation at being knocked out of the fighting early. They both knew that the Sever had been in poor repair when he’d taken command, and that even with the hasty repairs, she was never going to be able to face down a destroyer and a corvette. But of course, they also knew that having the corvette there to back up Fidelity would have been helpful. Now, Kaeli was watching Josette’s back, doing the best she could, but after all was said and done, Kaeli was only an armed freighter. In fact, she was only a light freighter with a few guns tacked on. Her drives, shields and hull were all civilian grade, far inferior to that of the Sever, but there was nothing that could be done about it now.
“Coming around on the destroyer again, Captain,” the sensor officer reported a few moments later.
“Tactical, find a weak spot and hammer them,” Josette ordered her voice harsh. “Then we’ll go to the aid of the Kaeli.” Her eyebrow shot up as an indicator lit up on one of the displays. “Now what the hell is that about?”
((--[][]--))
Kapitan Flayl, haughty in a way that only the hak’ruk serving among zheen could be, sat in her command chair of the Warlord’s destroyer Kopesh and stared at three different displays. One showing the sensor feeds for the fight with the pirate frigate, another showing the fight between the Gr’kenth and the captured light freighter and the third showing the damage control data. Those damned pirates were holding their own against her small defense squadron better than she’d expected. But she hadn’t been a complete nerf about the situation. The cutter was on a ballistic trajectory out system, heavily damaged; the light freighter had just taken a hit that punched all the way through one side of the ship and out the other, and she was losing power. The frigate was, unsurprisingly, the best off of the lot. The ship was a lot better armored than the sensors had intimated, though perhaps that was just Flayl just refusing to believe that a pirate captain from an inferior caste could possibly be a good tactician.
Regardless, the fight was almost over. Gr’kenth was still in good shape, and while her own Kopesh had taken a few hits, she was still in this fight. She would take them all down and haul what few carcasses that remained back to the station to face judgment. The frigate, in fact, was coming around for another pass and then she would show them.
“Kapitan, we’re receiving a transmission from Hyperidon station,” the zheen at comms reported.
She checked the display. Six minutes to contact with the frigate. She could spare a moment for the Primary. “Put it through to my station.” The zheen pressed a control, and a small display window activated, showing an image of the Warlord’s banner, the blue-green planet intersected by the spearhead of his first ship, the Ysleth. It was the way Yokusk sent any transmissions; he never showed his face in any transmission.
“This is Primary Yokusk to Kapitan Flayl. You have done enough. Break off your attack and return to the station. Let them go. The Warlord can deal with them, but I need you to get your ships back here. I am concerned that there might be other pirate ships incoming and that this might be an elaborate feint. This is a direct command, Leader. Get back here now! Yokusk out.”
Flayl seethed. He’s recalling me now? When we’re so close? How dare he? Flayl scratched her talons on the metal arm of her chair, eliciting a delightful screech. A deep, subsonic hum began to emit from her chest, which wouldn’t be audible to human ears, but everyone on the bridge could hear and feel it, and they knew her displeasure. “Send a message to Gr’kenth, order them to disengage. Tactical, helm, disengage from the fight as best we can, but do your best to keep our engines from being exposed.”
The helmsman turned and looked back at her. “You sure, Kapitan?”
She turned her head in his direction, but even though he could not see her eyes, he knew she was addressing him. “Yes, helm, I’m sure. Do it. Alter course fifty degrees up, take us to max accel.” Flayl tightened her grip on the arms of the chair as the thrusters shoved the ship around and the main propulsion units kicked on at full.
“The frigate did not change course,” the sensor watch called. “They’re passing beneath us. I think you surprised them, Captain!”
Flayl hummed in satisfaction as the destroyer roared away from the smaller warship, however surprised, both ships still unloaded their beam weapons at one another. Kopesh shuddered a bit as more damage indicators appeared on the display, but then they were clear. Thankfully, the sudden maneuver seemed to have thrown off the aim of the frigate’s gunners who targeted the destroyer’s forward section instead of her engines, and while Kopesh did receive a hammering from the other ship, she wasn’t crippled.
The destroyer’s own fire had savaged the frigate, and Flayl saw some minor damage to their engines. It seemed the tactical officer had done good work and the gunners had managed a few hits. But that’s over now. We go back to the station. “Helm, plot us a course back to Hyperidon. And make sure that we a
nd Gr’Kenth rendezvous on the way back.”
“Yes, Captain.”
She pressed a control with one talon. “Damage control. Get those breaches sealed and get started on repairs.”
((--[][]--))
“They’re breaking off, Captain!” the sensor operator gasped.
Josette Martel watched the display in disbelief. “I see it,” she said, wiping a hand across her forehead, taking a few deep breaths. “I’m not going to question it. Signal the Kaeli. Get us both turned around, and let’s rendezvous with Sever. We have to get back to base.” She allowed herself to relax just slightly in her seat. We’ve got a ton of repairs to take care of to get just this ship back up to fighting trim again, to say nothing of the other ships. But I’m sure that Command will be pleased with our new acquisitions.
Josette stayed on the bridge for a full hour longer, watching the displays to make sure that this wasn’t some elaborate trick. If it was, it was far too subtle and far-reaching for her tired eyes. The two defense ships continued on their long, sweeping course back to Hyperidon Station, the gap between them and her own ship increasing with every minute. Finally, she stood. “I’ll be in my stateroom. Take us down to Condition Two, make sure damage control teams get the hull sealed.”
“Aye Captain.”
“Sykes,” she said to her tactical officer. “You have the bridge.”
((--[][]--))
Verrikoth tapped impatiently on the arm of his command seat, ensconced on Nemesis’s flag bridge. There was less than a minute to breakout, and as far as he was concerned, it could not come quick enough. He and Commander Tyler were busy during the relatively short transit, running drills on all sections of the ship. He wanted his flagship to be well-trained and disciplined for this encounter, well, for any encounter, really.
He marveled at the speed of his ship. A trip that normally would take a month was pared down to less than two weeks; an unbelievable luxury in the Argos Cluster. He idly wished that his cargo ships could be upgraded in such a fashion, though the expense and time needed for such an upgrade might be a bit prohibitive. It was a thought for a later time, though; not something to be forgotten.
“Ten seconds,” the helmsman called, bringing the Warlord’s mind back to the present. When the clock ran down, the zheen at the helm mashed the button, and the ship gave a shiver through the deck plates.
Verrikoth nodded in approval at the smooth transit.
“Sensors, report,” Tyler barked, and the bridge crew snapped into action.
“Scopes are clear,” the sensor watch reported, then chittered. “Strike that, Gawilghur just transited, ten thousand klicks off starboard.”
Verrikoth clicked in satisfaction. “Very well.” He pressed a comm control. “All sshipss, thiss iz the Warlord. Accelerate in ssysstem to sspeed sseven hundred, on coursse for Hyperidon Sstation. Maintain ssenssor watch. Execute now.” He gestured to his own Flag Captain, who nodded and issued the appropriate order.
He ended that call, then pressed the command for another call. “All sshipss, make ssure all gunsshipss are prepped and ready for launch, ssame for the Ssparhawkss. Out.” It felt odd giving orders for a squadron of only two cruisers with no escorts, but he wanted to be sure all the attack craft were ready. Tyler turned and nodded again to him, then looked at the woman at Flight Ops. In fact, she was the only human female on the bridge. She was short and stocky, well-muscled like all heavy worlders, with short fur on the top of her head. Though she was female, and by all accounts attractive to the opposite sex, none of the crew dared to try anything with her since she could snap most of them in half and had a cruel streak a light year wide. She was also a competent flight controller, able to wrangle the various pilots and deck gangs with ease. Tyler was ecstatic to have her on board. The Warlord, however, always had trouble with her name: Gilabon or Garabosh or something. Human names all sound the same.
“Commz, ready a tranzmission for Hyperidon, routed to Primary Yokussk.”
A male zheen, Pyrikk, pressed several keys on his console, then turned back. “Ready Warlord. Recording in three… two…” And he pointed at Verrikoth.
“Primary, thiss iz the Warlord. Nemessiss and Gawilghur have arrived in ssysstem and are moving at high sspeed in your direction. Report your sstatss, including all actionz against pirate forcez and all damage ssusstained. Verrikoth out.” At the distances involved, it would be a good forty hours for a zero-zero intercept, and more than two hours for the transmission to reach the station. An unfortunate wait.
“I will be in my sstateroom,” he said, rising from the command seat. There was little to do here, and the ships’ captains could manage things for a while in his absence.
“Yes, my Lord,” Commander Tyler replied as his leader departed the Flag bridge.
((--[][]--))
In his stateroom, the Warlord accessed the available sensor feeds of the system, seeing as there was nothing else pressing happening at this time. There were indications that Yokusk had started some serious construction work, was it related to the recent battles or had it been planned? Verrikoth certainly would have remembered getting a report about something this grand… and expensive. His antennae twitched at the thought of how much the addition to Hyperidon Station would cost.
As one of the star systems and facilities closest to Tyseus, Amethyst had a tight trade relationship, though with the damage from recent fights and spreading his resources throughout his territories, the flow of goods and reports to and from Amethyst had been sporadic at best in recent months. Yokusk’s reports would make for interesting reading, at the very least.
Things were considerably more complicated now he was no longer but a humble pirate. Oh, it was certain that there were people who would dispute that, but that was no concern of his. Building things was much more difficult than raiding or simply smashing things. While neither of these things had been removed from his repertoire (he was a warlord, after all) he made it a strict policy that his people would not prey upon themselves or others within his domain, under penalty of his wrath. He’d gutted two of his fighters with his own knife who had taken liberties with the females in a bar on one of the smaller worlds and sent boarding teams over to one of his own corvettes for attacking a mining station in Cetetia. They believed him when he told them now.
All the worlds in his domain paid him a minimal tax, and it was minimal, barely two percent of their annual income, and they were otherwise free to do as they liked. Trade with your neighbors, build your industries, teach, learn, grow; Verrikoth was indifferent. Obey his few rules, pay his taxes, allow any who wished to join his growing forces to do so and he was a happy zheen.
But Verrikoth’s was not the only armed outfit working in the Argos Cluster. General Typhon and his wolves were out there as were numerous other groups, as evidenced by Yokusk’s signal and his own response. They were a nuisance, for the most part, disorganized, lightly armed and undisciplined. They preyed on easy targets, soft worlds; getting only enough swag to cover their fuel and ammunition costs and their latest drinking binge. Once their hangovers went away, they loaded up again and went back out. They were only a minor threat to his domain at the best of times, but it was still one he needed to respond to if he wanted to maintain trust with the people on the planets he controlled.
Of course, even if this was a legitimate emergency, there was every possibility he would arrive too late to prevent anything, only to assist with battle damage assessment and the cleanup. That meant he’d need more ships on patrol to protect his assets. Having Tyseus putting out more ships, especially the light escorts was a start. Even having a small deterrent force was something, but there needed to be more.
That got him to thinking. The Republic was certainly still a threat; no way was Republic Admiral Tandred going to forget about what occurred at Byra-Kae and who was responsible. Since one of the destroyers managed to fight its way clear, not to mention that twice-damned heavy cruiser, word would get back to the Admiral. Verrikoth knew his
response would be brutal, though he had no idea of how swiftly that retribution would arrive. He still believed that the Republic people and by extension the Senate, had no stomach for sending military forces so far from home to fight opponents that no one back home cared about. Unnecessary conflicts, expenses and all that. Perhaps that would tie Tandred’s hands, or at least check his response.
He clicked his mandibles in amusement at his own folly. The Senate might try to restrain Admiral Tandred, but from what Verrikoth knew of the man, he might be a frail, squishy human, the man had frozen helium in his veins. His activities and those of his ships when they ventured into the Argos Cluster over the last few years were proof of that. Attacks on civilian populations, looting of goods, forced conscription and outright slavery, among other things, were common under Tandred’s tenure. Verrikoth, the purveyor of some of those goods over the years, knew the Admiral was lining his own pockets with many of those transactions. What he spent that wealth on, Verrikoth had no idea, but he’d be very interested to find out. He envisioned the Admiral owning his own pleasure planet, a fleet of luxury yachts, thousands of slaves all prepared to cater to his every whim and desire. Then he hissed at himself. He wasn’t a freak for soft pleasures. No, Tandred might have a planet, but it would be more of an armed camp, bristling with ships, troops, and weapons.
He hissed at himself again, this time in irritation. You’re scaring yourself, bug. Tandred is powerful and dangerous, but you’re already building up forces to oppose him, should he come out this way. No need to frighten yourself with imagined tales of the evil human Admiral.
But of course, there was legitimate cause to fear. Tandred was stationed aboard a battleship, the Titan, a vessel that, while no longer new, was more than capable of raining down an unceasing hail of pain and death on all who opposed him. And if his intel was correct, Tandred had two more battleships within his command, the Second Fleet, in addition to a number of cruisers, destroyers, and other light escorts.
The Warlord's Path: Samair in Argos: Book 6 Page 6
