McKnight's Mission

by Caleb Wachter

  Naturally, any tactician worth her lytes would know to avoid engaging such a target until its vulnerability was actually established via probing attacks and maneuvers.

  Captain Alex, it seemed, was not worth her lytes.

  “The Cis is approaching the intercept point, ma’am,” Brickley reported tightly, “she’ll reach the PNR in twenty seconds.”

  The tactical display set beside the main view screen flickered with a series of updates as the Gamer Gate hammered the nearest Corvette with its longest-ranged weaponry. Archibald had bitten on the enemy’s bait by driving hard for the furthest Corvette, just as McKnight had hoped he would, which had prompted the other two ships to reorient themselves to maintain consistent pressure while their third member burned away to create distance and better present fresh shield facings.

  “Three direct hits, ma’am,” Brickley reported unnecessarily as McKnight saw for herself that Archibald’s people had indeed landed three hits against the shields of the enemy vessel, which was named Data Impervious while its sister Corvette was the Enduring Trauma. The Data Impervious had finally managed to begin putting distance between herself and the Gamer Gate, and it was now only a matter of minutes until Archibald’s weapons would be out of their effective range.

  The fact that the Corvettes would be able to dictate range was less than optimal for McKnight’s two-ship formation, but it was also predictable given the nature of the vessels involved. What was more concerning was the fact that of the twelve turbo-lasers Archibald had brought to bear, only three of them had landed. At these ranges—and with capable gunners—Archibald should have been able to land with at least forty percent of his long guns per salvo, but his running accuracy was sitting closer below thirty percent thus far in the battle.

  “Seems like he might have needed those gunners, after all,” McKnight muttered under her breath as the Cis moved past the PNR. It was time to show the insufferable Captain Alex that McKnight’s ship was far from a wounded prize, as her ruse had been intended to suggest, and McKnight was only too happy to show her enemy the error of her ways. “Helm, initiate maximum burn in twenty seconds,” she commanded as she opened a link to Main Engineering. “Engineering, we’re going to full burn on the engines.”

  A surprisingly respectful Tiberius Spalding replied, “We’re ready when you are, Captain.”

  “Good work, Lieutenant,” she acknowledged before cutting the channel.

  “Maximum burn…now,” Marcos said, and the ship lurched beneath their feet as the grav-plates failed to automatically compensate for all of the ship’s acceleration. McKnight made a note to herself to have the engineers review the gravity plates and their control processors. She knew it was just one of a hundred important items on their list of things to do, but she also knew that every single item would eventually prove crucial to the mission.

  “The Cis is altering her course,” Brickley reported. “She’s moving to split the distance between us and the Gate.”

  “We’ll be in firing range of our weapons in eight minutes,” McKnight said in a raised, steady voice, “but we can expect they’ll get into their own range soon—“

  The ship shuddered, cutting her off mid-sentence as the enemy saved her the trouble of warning her people of incoming fire. She logged the distance for later review, since it seemed that the modified turbo-lasers which had just struck their shields had ranges that were several percent greater than those which they had encountered at The Bulwark.

  “Like I was saying,” she quipped irritably, causing an actual snicker or two—but she couldn’t tell if they were somehow at her expense so she added, “stay sharp, people. We’re going to take a few hits before this is over.”

  The Gamer Gate unloaded with another spiraling salvo, which took several seconds to complete, and landed another three hits against the Data Impervious’s shields.

  “The Data Impervious is presenting her port side,” Brickley reported. “Their shields on the starboard facing are spotting.”

  A quick check of the distances and relative velocities of the two ships showed McKnight that Captain Archibald would be lucky to get off another salvo before his chances to land weapon strikes became remote.

  “How are the Gate’s shields?” McKnight asked, more than slightly frustrated at her less-than-complete tactical readout on her chair’s console.

  “Holding at 70% on exposed facings, ma’am,” Brickley reported promptly, followed by a series of turbo-laser strikes from both Corvettes which landed on the Gate’s screens.

  The ship shuddered again, prompting McKnight to check her ship’s shields and finding that the bow was down to 60% as they closed distance with the opposing Destroyer.

  “Firing range in three minutes, ma’am,” McKnight’s new Tactical Officer reported. He was a talented Petty Officer named Ryan, who had actually beaten McKnight at a handful of one-on-one virtual simulator challenges back at Gambit Station.

  McKnight knew that her gunners were working in sub-optimal conditions, having to operate within work suits just as her engineers were doing, due to the lack of proper life support systems on the ship. So she would be unlikely to get off more than a salvo or two before her people would fall dangerously behind their counterparts in the battle.

  That meant they needed to make those first shots count.

  “I’m getting thermal fluctuations in the engines,” Marcos reported tightly as her fingers flew over her console. “It looks like there’s a coolant issue; recommend we back off to 85% output, Captain.”

  McKnight did a quick check of the intercept trajectory and saw that Marcos had done her math; a reduction to 85% would still give them two long range shots on target, with another at extreme range before the Cis escaped their firing arc.

  “Reduce engine output to 85%, Helm,” McKnight said approvingly, “let’s see if that gives Engineering a chance to correct the issue.”

  “85%, aye,” Marcos acknowledged.

  The truth was that McKnight was even more nervous about pushing the ship in combat conditions than her Chief Engineer appeared to be. But she knew that it was the only way they could possibly determine just how much more work the ship needed. Tiberius Spalding and his people had worked wonders with the relatively limited means available to them, which meant there was a legitimate chance they could get the ship in fighting trim in another couple months of full-time work.

  “The Gate has knocked the Data Impervious’s engines offline!” Brickley reported eagerly. “She’s coming to bear on the Cis, ma’am.”

  “One down, two to go,” McKnight muttered as she checked the trajectory of the second Corvette. Its current course would carry it well clear of the Gamer Gate’s firing range, as well as out of McKnight’s. There was a slim possibility that McKnight could intercept the vessel for a few shots if the battle played out as she had predicted it would, but the chance of that happening was much higher if the Cis was disabled first. “How are my engines, Helm?” McKnight asked tersely, reminded yet again that her command chair was woefully inadequate compared to the Pride or the Slice.

  “Still experiencing thermal fluctuations, ma’am,” Marcos replied as she fine-tuned their course to maintain optimal firing solutions on the Cis as the other vessel modified its course.

  “First salvo in three…two…one…firing!” Ryan reported, and the tactical display lit up as McKnight’s paired turbo-lasers struck home against the Cis’s shields. “Two-for-two,” Petty Officer Ryan declared proudly, “enemy shields on the port facing are down to 55%.”

  Seemingly determined not to be upstaged, the Gamer Gate opened fire with its own turbo-lasers in a slow spiral which brought each of her weapons to bear on the Cis in turn.

  “Three of eight turbo-laser strikes landed,” Brickley reported with a hint of smugness.

  “Stow that tone, Sensors,” McKnight scolded sharply. It wasn’t that she failed to share a measure of pride in her own crew’s performance thus far in the fight, compared to that of their heavier-hi
tting allies aboard the Gamer Gate—far from it, in fact.

  But she knew that this battle could literally make or break the tenuous relationship between the crews of the two vessels, and McKnight had been through enough during her time with Captain Middleton to know that they would need every ally they could get in the mission to come.

  “Aye, ma’am,” Brickley acknowledged smartly before adding in surprise, “I’m reading power fluctuations on the Cis’s stern shields.”

  “Confirm that,” McKnight said with forced neutrality as she felt a surge of hope that they might actually get all three enemy ships disabled before any of them could reach the hyper limit.

  “They’re faint,” Brickley said hesitantly, “but they’re present.”

  “Tactical?” McKnight turned to Ryan, gripping the arms of her chair as she fought against the urge to leap across the bridge and take a look through the instruments herself.

  “The fluctuations are consistent with an overload of their secondary power grid,” Ryan replied after far too lengthy of a delay. “But they might be too consistent, ma’am.”

  “Explain?” McKnight snapped more irritably than she would have liked.

  Before he replied directly, he reported, “Second salvo away, ma’am.” Her ship’s twin turbo-lasers lashed out at the enemy vessel, but one missed the mark. “Scanning their shields…” he surprisingly pre-empted her command before it left her throat, “their briefly compromised shield integrity after the strike is consistent with a critically impaired secondary power grid.”

  McKnight knew that her own ship was unable to bring enough firepower to bear on the Cis’s stern shields, but the Gamer Gate still had one more chance to clear its guns on target. “Open a point-to-point line to Captain Archibald,” she instructed.

  “I can’t get a lock established at this range during combat maneuvers, ma’am,” the Comm. stander reported anxiously.

  “Then broadcast the following information packet on MSP channels,” McKnight snapped after inputting the target coordinates on the Cis which represented the weakest point in the enemy shields. If she could instruct Archibald to fire on that point, and if he could land with three or more turbo-laser strikes, it just might be enough to bring the enemy destroyer’s stern shields down. The window wouldn’t last for very long, but she still had one more shot of her own that she might be able to get up the enemy’s skirt—and without any shields covering her rear, Captain Alex’s ship had a roughly 50% chance of being disabled by a single turbo-laser strike.

  “Ma’am,” Ryan argued, “regulations clearly state that no tactical information be broadcast in combat—“

  “Blast the regulations!” McKnight snarled, shooting daggers at her Tactical Officer before turning to face the Comm. stander. “Send the transmission, Comm.—and do it now!”

  “Transmitting,” the stander acknowledged. Several seconds passed before the stander added, “Transmission received, ma’am.”

  Not eight seconds later, the Gamer Gate unloaded her guns on the enemy warship and McKnight sucked in a breath in anticipation of the sensor data.

  “Three strikes on target, ma’am!” Brickley reported excitedly. “The Cis’s stern shields have collapsed!”

  “Tactical,” McKnight rounded on Ryan, “instruct Gunnery to target their engines and fire as soon as our systems cycle.”

  “Done, ma’am,” Ryan acknowledged, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead which reminded McKnight of her own first time in live combat. But Ryan had proved just as unflappable during the real thing as he had been during their heated virtual competition—a competition which had lasted for nineteen uninterrupted hours, and had served as the bulk of her interview with the red-haired man.

  The seconds seemed to pass at a crawl as McKnight watched the Cis drove ever further from the barely-overlapping fields of fire for the Gamer Gate and McKnight’s ship. But just before the enemy Destroyer reached the outer limit of her firing arc, she saw the recharge cycle near completion on the tactical display.

  “Firing…now!” Ryan said with a hunger note that McKnight knew all too well, and their twin turbo-lasers pierced the space between the enemy Destroyers.

  For a brief moment it seemed as though nothing had happened—which suggested they had missed with both shots—but then the Cis’s icon began flashing yellow and its acceleration figures flat-lined, signaling that the vessel had begun to drift.

  “The Cis’s engines have been disabled, ma’am!” Brickley cheered.

  “Helm, plot a new intercept course with the Cis,” McKnight quickly ordered. “Comm., send a coded message on scrambled frequency package Theta instructing the Gamer Gate to establish point to point communications with us.”

  “Aye ma’am,” came the concurrent acknowledgments.

  Twenty three seconds later, the Comm. stander reported, “P2P connection established, ma’am.”

  More frustrated by the unacceptably long interval required to establish a point to point line with their ally warship than she was with the improper use of an informal abbreviation ‘P2P,’ McKnight decided against a rebuke as she opened the video feed with Captain Archibald.

  “That was good intel, Captain,” Archibald said appreciatively. “We should be able to cut off that second Corvette before she makes the hyper limit, but it will be close.”

  “My recommendation is to pursue them,” McKnight said quickly, her heart rate finally catching up with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, “but if you are unable to do so, don’t let them lead you a merry chase. We have two enemy birds down; we’re best served by seizing them and interrogating their crews in a timely fashion.”

  “I’ve already got Lancers prepped in the shuttle bay,” Captain Archibald nodded. “I’ll launch them once we have a fully neutralized target to board; I won’t risk my people unnecessarily.”

  “Agreed. I only have twenty Lancers aboard this ship,” McKnight pressed forward briskly, “but we’ll dispatch them to the Cis so they can disable the enemy’s engines completely before awaiting your reinforcements.” Twenty Lancers was probably enough to take one of the Corvettes, but the relative positions of the three vessels meant that McKnight’s Lancers would be best deployed by harassing the Cis’s repair efforts rather than seizing the Data Impervious, which was the furthest of the three enemy warships from McKnight’s present location.

  “Understood,” Archibald acknowledged. “We’ll see about securing the Corvettes before reinforcing your assault on the Cis. Archibald out.”

  The connection was severed, and McKnight opened the Lancer Command channel to speak with Bernice. “Corporal, prepare your people to launch—we’ll reach deployment range in thirty one minutes.”

  “What is the mission?” Bernice asked in her thick accent.

  “You are to conduct a ‘harry and stall’ operation,” McKnight replied. “Target the enemy vessel’s engines and weapons, but remain on the ship’s hull until reinforcements arrive. Repeat: you are not to initiate a boarding action to the ship’s interior until reinforcements arrive. Remain a-hull until reinforcements arrive unless you find yourself unable to hold that position, in which case exercise your best judgment.”

  “Understood,” Bernice acknowledged crisply. “We will succeed.”

  McKnight nodded in satisfaction, “McKnight out; good hunting, Corporal.”

  Chapter XV: Blood and Treasure

  “That’s the final tally,” Archibald explained over the com-link as McKnight perused the after action reports for his team’s actions against the two Corvettes. “The Data Impervious was secured with eight Lancers lost and four more currently being worked on in my sickbay, and the Cis was all but captured by the time my team got there. All told, six suits of armor and a pair of plasma cannons are beyond repair. We seized twenty two suits of armor and over a hundred small arms.”

  “It’s unfortunate that the second Corvette got away,” McKnight said sourly. “Still, this is quite the haul. My Chief Engineer thinks the Data
Impervious will be repairable, given the proper facilities, but he’s writing the Cis off as unsalvageable without a mobile repair yard—or a Constructor.”

  “Should we scuttle it?” Archibald asked, and for the first time since interacting with the man she saw the same uneasy anxiety which seemed to surround her every decision. It was nice, in a way, to know that she wasn’t the only one who felt like she had no idea what she was doing out here.

  But after a moment’s consideration she shook her head, “The Xanatos System will want to know what happened to their ships and, if possible, they’ll want them back if only as a point of pride. Besides, we don’t have the sentient or material resources necessary to mount a proper salvage operation of either ship.” She paused as she considered the matter carefully before nodding to herself, “We’ll let official representatives from Xanatos know of the ships’ locations after we’ve performed a thorough search of each vessel—including scouring their data banks—once we reach Capital.”

  Archibald arched an eyebrow humorously, “I never took you for a politician, McKnight,”

  McKnight actually smarted at the lighthearted rebuke. “Out here—a Sector away from HQ and proper reinforcements—we’ve had to learn to cultivate every resource we can find, Captain Archibald,” she said icily. “We don’t have the luxury of calling in the cavalry like so many of our fellows—“

  Archibald held up his hands in mock surrender, “I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re right; it’s the smart move. But I’m going to suggest we leave a team of Lancers aboard the Destroyer.”

  “You’re worried about the enemy coming back into possession of them?” McKnight asked, more than a little interested in Archibald’s reply. She had given significant thought to how they should proceed with the two warships, and this would be a good gauge of Archibald’s outside-the-box thinking skills.