Dark Moon Arisen

by Chris Kennedy

* * *

  EMS Pegasus, Golara System

  “They’re facing stiff opposition,” Paka said, looking at the relayed tactical data from Sleipnir.

  “He’ll handle it,” Alexis said. While Yoshuka might not be quite as good a commander as Kowalczy, the little Maki was still quite competent. Pegasus, Manticore, and Shadowfax were still slowing, their fusion torches burning a steady three Gs. The engagement with the 17 enemy ships had been a success, but it had left them with considerable delta-V.

  “Update from the assault teams?” she ordered.

  “Cavaliers have reached their objective and are beginning their boarding operation,” Hoot said. “Offering was destroyed.” The CIC was quiet as the Buma read off the losses. “Hrunting has major damage, but they’re still underway. Captain Hogshead says he has 29 dead and seven injured. Secretariat got hit with three particle beams. Captain Kaskata says she’s still evaluating the damage but has massive loses. She still has maneuvering and shields.”

  “That Maki captain is a badass,” Xander said. Alexis had to agree. There weren’t many Maki in the Winged Hussars—the race tended to stick to their own—but the ones who’d joined were a credit to the company. Alexis grinned a little. She had two Maki captains in her company, one a task force commander, and these were mostly Maki they were facing. Eat that, Peepo.

  “Helm, ETA to the docks?”

  “Ninety-three minutes at this velocity,” Chug said.

  Alexis ran the numbers through her pinplants. They could up the thrust to six Gs, but they’d get there about the time the fight was over, and they’d have to leave the carrier Manticore behind to do it. It wasn’t worth the risk to the crew.

  “Maintain course,” she said. “Drone control, dispatch your drones to assist at the space docks.”

  * * *

  EMS Sleipnir, Golara System

  “Forward elements, begin firing,” Yoshuka ordered. At the front of the fleet, the escort frigates opened up with laser fire. Each had three 100-megawatt lasers which could fire at single targets, multiple targets, or, through beam-splitters, act as anti-missile point defense. The Hussars’ frigates fired on the enemy frigates at the front of the Merc Guild’s fleet waiting to launch missiles. The enemy returned fire.

  Shields flashed on both side as the frigates absorbed fire. Some shields flashed more than others. Some on both sides took enough damage that they were forced to maneuver behind others, or out of the field of fire. A scattering of shots passed to impact against other ships further back in the formation. Most scarcely noticed the lighter fire.

  Drones from both sides raced across the intervening space. One or two were destroyed by the crisscrossing laser fire. The Hussars’ three carriers put 360 drones in the black, while the two enemy carriers sent 500 in response. Their job was to attack capital ships, not each other; however, the Hussars’ drones were smarter than average. Where the opportunity presented itself, they attacked the enemy drones, successfully destroying 21.

  “Drones inbound,” TacCom Soos said. The Stonewall Jackson had reached the front of the formation and was the first large warship in line, and the drones made a beeline for it. The Hussars’ frigates and escorts switched to defensive laser fire, trying their best to down the nimble enemy drones. Dozens were hit. Of these, a few survived, but most exploded with little puffs in the black.

  The former Izlian heavy cruiser Stonewall Jackson waited until the last possible moment before it engaged the racing drones. With so many ships in front of it, there was a considerable danger of hitting its own escorts, so it did not fire any missiles. It knocked out 12 more, and then the survivors, 408 of them, unleashed their attack on the heavy cruiser.

  “Entropy,” Yoshuka said as the tactical Tri-V lit up with a sea of missiles launched by the drones.

  “That’s gonna hurt,” someone else said in the CIC.

  Shaped like an old zeppelin, the bulging shape of Stonewall Jackson flashed as explosions detonated across her shields, far too numerous to count. So much radiation was released that nearby frigates’ shields glowed. The attack lasted less than five seconds, and after the images cleared, Stonewall Jackson was still there.

  The drones spun away from the attack, burning tiny but powerful fusion cores that generated hundreds of Gs of thrust, but they passed inside the firing solutions of the cruisers. The Crown-class cruisers bristled with close-in defensive lasers. The ones facing the racing drones unleashed a hurricane of one-megawatt lasers. This time, 191 of the drones didn’t make it through the storm.

  “Stupid,” Soos said. Yoshuka nodded. The Hussars’ drones wouldn’t have peeled off, they would have shot through the middle of the enemy fleet to reduce anti-drone laser fire. Of course, theirs also wouldn’t have wasted every damned missile on a heavy cruiser!

  “Status on Stonewall Jackson?” the captain asked.

  “We’re still here,” Captain Ewald said, the excitement in his voice evident. “What a ride!”

  “Any damage?” Yoshuka asked.

  “We lost half our shield generators and a dozen secondary systems. No hull penetrations.”

  Yoshuka smiled. He’d been excited to learn that the colonel had brought a heavy cruiser back, because all the tactical commanders knew what was coming their way.

  The heavy cruisers weren’t used anymore because they were slow and lacked a big offensive punch. They also didn’t fit the doctrine of the Hussars. Heavy cruisers weren’t any bigger than battlecruisers like the Steed-class or Egleesius. However, they mounted the same shields as a small battleship, and their armor was equally massive. In the ancient days, they had been designed to soak up enemy fire, and that’s exactly what the Stonewall Jackson had done.

  “Do we need to switch to Shell B?” Yoshuka asked.

  Ewald laughed. “Oh, hell no, I’ll have shields up again in a minute. Push on.”

  “Roger that,” Yoshuka said.

  The Hussars’ drones hit the enemy formation, spreading out and hunting for appropriate targets. Unlike the enemies, they didn’t just carry two small missiles. Some carried a single powerful Hussar ship killer, a tiny nuclear-tipped missile; others had high pulse-rate lasers. The drones worked together to decide targets and overlapped their attacks. All fire directed at the Hussars’ fleet stopped as the enemy fought furiously to stop the drones which, just like Soos had noted, didn’t dodge away, but spun and corkscrewed within the enemy formation.

  Nine of the enemy ships were hit, many losing partial shields from ship killers. Other drones with lasers swooped by, pumping laser rounds into the hulls through the holes in their shields. One cruiser captain was slow to respond, not rolling his ship away from an attack, and a drone deftly slipped a ship killer through a hole in the ship’s shields. The weapon went directly into its engines, and the detonation splashed lethal radiation through the rear of the ship, killing all the engineering crew. The EMP also knocked out power, and laser-equipped drones chopped the cruiser to pieces in seconds.

  “Order all cruisers to charge particle weapons,” Yoshuka ordered. Shields on all the cruisers and battlecruisers dimmed as their main weapons charged. The enemy commanders were aware of the Hussars’ tactics, and despite being pummeled by the drones, began to maneuver.

  “They’re making this harder,” Soos said.

  “Best discretion,” Yoshuka said in a calming voice. The status lights on each of the Hussars’ cruisers changed to indicate readiness. “Concentrate on those three battlecruisers,” he said, “and fire.”

  When Pegasus was salvaged, and the power of her disproportionately massive 40-terawatt particle cannon had been realized, a strategy had been built around it. Once the Hussars had the ability to build their own ships, they were all constructed with at least some kind of particle beam weapon as primary firepower.

  Each Steed-class battlecruiser sported two one-terawatt particle accelerator barbettes with some degree of aim, but only in the forward arc. The smaller Crown-class cruisers sported a single one-terawatt spina
l-mounted particle weapon. Compared to the behemoth in the Egleesius, it was tiny. But a terawatt of energy was a terawatt of energy. Even the Crown-class’s single weapon was equal to 10,000 of the 100-megawatt lasers mounted on the Legend-class. Of course, it took time for the four 25-gigawatt fusion power plants in the Crown to generate that much power, or even the three heavier 50-gigawatt plants in the Steed.

  Twenty seconds per shot was the charge time. The particle beams also had much less range than the lasers. The excited subatomic particles in the beam didn’t like going in one direction; they spread, no matter what you did.

  The enemy battlecruisers knew they were in deadly peril and maneuvered as radically as they could. A total of 10 particle beams lanced out at the speed of light, the pulse lasting just 1/10 of a second to deliver its devastating terawatt of energy. The enemy’s multiphasic shields were designed to overlap each other, reinforce, and keep a penetration from happening. A terawatt in one place that quickly was impossible to stop.

  Three found their marks, all on one of the battlecruisers which was unlucky enough to have suffered some drive damage from a pair of Hussars’ ship killers delivered by the drones. One beam cleaved into its flank, slicing open a reaction tank. Another went through amidships and destroyed much of the ship’s computing power, along with the officers’ galley and the entire marine contingent. The last neatly bisected the engine room, destroying one of the ship’s three fusion reactors and ruining the hyperspace generator.

  Two nearby Hussars’ drones dove in and unleashed ship killers from less than a kilometer away. The sub-critical nuclear weapons unleashed two kilotons of energy against the crippled battlecruiser’s hull, which cracked like an egg. The ship remained intact, but spun out of control. Both drones died in the attack.

  “Good shooting,” Yoshuka said. The enemy battlecruisers responded in kind, using collimated laser energy in the 200-gigawatt range. The cruiser Sir Barton was hit twice, with the second impact partially penetrating and doing damage to her forward missile launchers. The frigate Skofnung took a hit as well, but the frigate’s shields were not designed to take that level of energy. Half the ship’s shield arrays exploded in a chain reaction, and the laser retained enough power to punch through her hull diagonally. The shot went through her rear missile magazine, which detonated, completely destroying the ship.

  “Maneuver the fleet,” Yoshuka said, “Bloom formation. Commence missile launch.”

  The remaining six frigates deftly pushed to the edge of the formation and began unleashing missiles at the rate of five each, every five seconds.

  “Retask remaining drones, suppress their frigates. Begin recharging particle cannons.” The two fleets grew ever closer.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  Gray Wolves’ Warehouse, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “The Science Guild is involved in this?” the Golden Horde’s XO, Lieutenant Colonel Laverno, asked.

  “That’s what the head guy from Nicholas Imports said, sir. He said there were more guilds involved than just the Merc Guild.” Hanson reviewed the mission logs in her mind. “His quote was, ‘It’s more than just the Merc Guild; the Science Guild is involved, too, and probably other guilds as well.’”

  “Got it,” Laverno said. “I will pass that on with the intel update. Anything else?”

  “No, sir,” Hanson replied. “That’s it.”

  “Very well. You know I can’t help you on your next mission?”

  “Yes, sir, I understand completely,” Sergeant Kayla Hanson said, nodding once for emphasis. “I’m on my own and won’t expect any support from you.”

  “I wish I could do more for you,” Laverno replied from the other side of the desk in the sparsely-furnished room. “We need info on what they’re doing—what their plans are—and we need someone on the inside to get it. You’ll have to use your best judgment on when to break cover. If they ever suspect your loyalty is to anything other than them, though, they will kill you. Do what you need to in order to get us the info.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Hanson said. “I will do my best.”

  “Well, let’s make it official, then,” Laverno said, turning his slate toward her.

  Hanson sighed as she looked at the form she would have sworn she would never have voluntarily signed, then she took the stylus and signed her name, terminating her employment with the Golden Horde.

  “It’s been great having you in the Horde,” Laverno said. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied. “I feel like I’m going to need it.”

  * * *

  Merc Guild Recruiting Office, Moscow, Earth

  “I heard you’re looking for recruits,” Kayla Hanson said as she approached the desk at the recruiting office. “Where do I sign?”

  “Do you have any experience?” the Flatar seated on the desk asked.

  “Yeah,” Hanson said. “I used to be a sergeant with the Golden Horde.”

  “Oh? And what are you doing here?”

  “Are you asking why I’m alive or why I’m physically present here?”

  “Both, actually.”

  “When the Merc Guild blew up my former employer, I was on leave, visiting a friend.”

  “Point of fact,” the Flatar said. “The Golden Horde detonated the nuclear devices used to destroy their headquarters, not the Merc Guild. I saw the Tri-V tapes of it. Why would a former Golden Horde merc want to sign up here, anyway? Aren’t you too high and mighty?”

  Hanson shrugged. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know who blew up the HQ, and it really doesn’t matter. What matters is my former employer is out of business, and you’re recruiting. I’m here because I like to eat, and I need a job in order to continue doing so. At least, that’s what Peepo said on my Tri-V. When it worked, that is. Now, do you have any job openings you need to fill, or are you just here to annoy the passersby?”

  The Flatar looked at her for a moment, obviously put off by her tone, then asked, “What’s your Merc Guild number?”

  “I’m Hanson, Kayla. Merc Guild Human Number 7833-2335-0925.”

  The Flatar tapped on his slate, then looked up in surprise. “There is someone with that number, and she looks like you.”

  “Of course it’s me. Everything I told you is the truth.”

  “Yack,” the Flatar said, holding out a claw. Hanson handed over her UACC, and the Flatar checked her data. “Yep, that’s you. Sign here,” he said, holding out the slate.

  Hanson signed.

  “Welcome back to the Merc Guild,” the Flatar said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  The Flatar watched Hanson leave the recruiting office, then climbed down from the desk and went to one of the offices in the back of the building. “Did you see my last recruit?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the Veetanho sitting behind the desk replied. “That one is trouble. I don’t care what story she gave you, but once a Horseman, always a Horseman. I wouldn’t trust her in any sort of leadership position, despite her previous experience. She is to be watched, and watched closely.”

  “If you don’t trust her, why would we accept her at all?”

  “Have you met your recruiting numbers this month?”

  “You know I haven’t.”

  “Then we will need to take a chance on her. Who knows? Maybe her enlistment is legitimate. Still, I want you to put in her file that she is to be watched closely. The first time she tries to contaminate any of the other recruits, she is to be killed. Make her an example of what happens to traitors.”

  “It shall be done as you say.”

  * * *

  Merc Training Center, Houston, Earth

  “You think you’re better than me?” the drill sergeant asked.

  “No, Staff Sergeant,” Private Kayla Hanson yelled, continuing to do pushups under the scorching south Texas sun while the former Varangian Guard soldier yelled at her. The Merc Guild had taken over Asbaran Solutions’ facility as their training bas
e. As far as training bases went, it had everything needed to train outstanding CASPer operators…and weather conditions that drill sergeants loved to make their charges miserable. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to attract the bastard’s attention; she’d kept her head down, she hadn’t told anyone where she’d come from, and she followed the drill sergeant’s instructions to the letter.

  “It’s because of you Horsemen,”—the staff sergeant sneered at the word “Horsemen”—”that we’re in this position.”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant!” she yelled.

  Awesome. Someone had told him she’d previously been in the Golden Horde. She could now expect an extra ration of shit, no matter what she did. The stereotype that the Varangian Guard was made up of the biggest officious prick assholes on Earth obviously had some truth to it. Not that a drill sergeant had to be Varangian Guard to be an asshole. That came with the territory.

  “How about a nice 10-mile run?” the drill sergeant asked.

  “Sounds great, Staff Sergeant!” she yelled. She’d been through cadre training once before. She could do it again.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alpha Arm, Space Dock 17, Golara System

  “Well, Sulda,” Nigel said as he left the boss’ office, “it appears your contract with them has been terminated.”

  “Big boss is dead?” the Lumar asked. “Who will pay Bold Warrior Company what is owed?”

  Nigel handed him the box of credit chits. “Here you go; this ought to cover what he owed you.” He nodded to Sergeant Rahimi. “The sergeant also entered into the boss’ slate that you successfully completed your contract, so your record with the Mercenary Guild is clean.”

  The big merc opened the box with his lower set of hands and a strange look came over his face. He picked up a million credit chit and held it close to his face to inspect it. “This box is more than what the Bold Warriors are owed,” he said, putting it back in the box. “Much more.”