* * *
Ten minutes later, Ryan transmitted his own "objective secure" message. The bulk of the Elemental security force had settled into a defensive position in the tiny secure area just outside the JumpShip's bridge. The fighting had been short, fierce, and brutal. Three of the Elementals, including one whose armor bore the double gold bars of a Star Commander, were killed during the initial assault. Two more died in the close-quarters fighting that followed. The remaining three were badly wounded.
Ryan's team did not get away undamaged. Kenichi Akida was seriously injured when an Elemental grabbed his Kage suit by its folded stub wings, hurled him against the bulkhead, and rammed the fisted battle claw into the DEST trooper's middle. Before the Clanner could finish the job, Raiko lopped off both of the massive Elemental's arms with a pitiless swipe of his vibrokatana. Akida dropped to the deck, writhing in agony, as the Talon Sergeant sent the Clanner to greet Kerensky in person, with a thrust so powerful that the slightly glowing tip of the high-tech katana came out through the back of the man's armor. Frank Hollis was nursing a couple of cracked ribs, inflicted when an Elemental, bigger than any he'd ever seen, back-handed him into a steel bulkhead. If not for the protection afforded by the suit, Hollis would have probably been killed. As it was, the communications operator had had the breath knocked from his lungs. He recovered in time to blast a pair of deep, steaming holes into the assailant's armor.
When DEST Team Six burst through the door onto the Invader's bridge, they were met by a scene of chaos and destruction. The Elementals had sold their lives to give the bridge crew a few minutes to wreck every panel, display, control, and readout they could lay their hands on.
As Peter Wu forced open the locked door, a crewman lifted a heavy half-rifle. The powerful laser bolt struck Wu's right pauldron, leaving a deep furrow in the armored shoulder-piece and a slight burn on the trooper's upper arm. A few more shots were traded, with the unarmored Ghost Bears getting the worst of the bargain, be fore a large Clansman with blood-stained white hair got his crew under control.
* * *
For a moment, Star Captain Hector surveyed the blank, expressionless masks of the armored troops who had burst onto his bridge. He could not help but recall how much fear Clan Elementals had once struck into the weak hearts of the Inner Sphere barbarians. And now these freebirths had overcome him, but he felt no fear of them. He had seen the face of battle and death before, had lived with it all his life. No, he felt only shame that he had lost a valuable command to the barbarians he had once helped to conquer. He was only consoled by the knowledge that he and his bridge crew had erased or corrupted every bit of data in the ship's computer core that the Inner Sphere surats might find useful. To make matters worse for the barbarians, Hector and his crew had smashed as much of the bridge equipment as they could before the enemy had come crashing through the door.
He understood that destroying the expensive, delicate systems would be considered wasteful by strict Clan standards. Still, the Winter Wind was dead. Worse, she had been captured by barbarians. By wrecking every bridge system and dumping the contents of the ship's computer core, Hector made sure that the Inner Sphere technicians would be unable to use that vital data against the Clans. He allowed himself a bitter laugh at the thought.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, head held high, hands spread in a gesture of peace.
"I am Star Captain Hector of Clan Ghost Bear. In accordance with your batchall, I formally surrender my vessel to you, and accept service as your bondsman."
* * *
As Michael Ryan shouldered his way through his troops, he felt a deep sense of pride at the accomplishment of his mission. He had fulfilled his duty to the Dragon in a way few had ever done before. He and his men had captured a Clan JumpShip with only light casualties.
With the touch of a button, he lifted the visor on his helmet. "Sir," he said to the Clansman who seemed to be the ship's captain. "I am Major Michael Ryan, Draconis Elite Team Six." Ryan almost stumbled over the words. Morgan-sama had passed instructions that any captured Clansmen were to be taken as bondsmen, but the formal words came hard to a warrior used to killing, rather than capturing an enemy. "I formally declare you and your ship isorla. You are now the property of the Star League, and Task Force Serpent."
Before Ryan or the Clanner could speak again, Raiko interrupted.
"Sir? The mission."
Ryan flushed slightly. In the excitement of capturing his objective, and the sudden necessity of dealing with a captured Clan officer, he had almost forgotten where he was.
"Hai. Talon Sergeant, you, Carter, and Hollis will remain here to watch the prisoners. The rest of us . . ."
"Ronin One, this is Ronin Two." The sudden squawk from the commline forced Ryan to break off his instructions.
"Two, this is One, go ahead."
"Ronin One, Ronin Two has secured secondary objective. Sir, we need med-evac. We've got a few casualties. A couple of them are pretty bad."
"Very well, Two. Stand by in the docking bay. I'll call the Bisan in to take off the wounded."
27
Battle Cruiser ISS Invisible Truth
Unnamed Star System
Deep Periphery
15 December 3059 1925 Hours
Morgan was beginning to feel like a spectator as he watched the battle swirling around him, played out in exquisitely detailed miniature in the Invisible Truth's holotank. Though he knew that men and women were struggling for their lives aboard the ships represented by the insubstantial replicas floating around him, he felt as though he were standing in the midst of a giant hologame.
He had often heard the criticism that war was rapidly becoming a contest played out on computers, by generals who had no more regard for the lives of their men than for the multitude of electronic ones and zeros shuffled around by kids playing Immortal Warrior. Morgan had never really believed the accusations leveled by those he called the "peace-at-any-price-so-long-as-I-don't-have-to-pay-it" crowd. But here, standing in the middle of the holographic representation of a battle, contributing nothing more than his approval, he wondered if the anti-military critics might not have something. He was aware that the days of honorable combat were gone. They had died a violent and noisy death centuries ago.
Well, the musket and muzzle-loading cannon were gone, too, replaced by the laser and the PPC. And with them went the last vestiges of romance, the image of the "thin red line," and fighting for a glorious Cause.
Morgan shook his head angrily. Pay attention, blast it. You still have a job to do, he told himself, although he had no idea what that job was right now.
Watching the cold, deadly dance of WarShips and fighters through the electronic display of the Invisible Truth's holotank had produced an odd detached feeling in Morgan, a detachment he didn't like. It was far too easy to look at the insubstantial projections of the combat vessels and see them as mere objects. It was far too easy to forget that there were living men and women aboard the ships represented by the tiny flickering images, men and women for whom he was responsible.
Again burning frustration seared his heart. He had been a warrior all his life, used to taking the reins of battle in his own hands. Now, here, aboard one of the most powerful WarShips ever built, he was nothing more than a spectator.
Several times Morgan opened his mouth to give an order or make a suggestion, but closed it again, the words unspoken. He was completely out of his element. His vast store of tactical knowledge, built up through long years of combat experience and command, was based on ground-based 'Mech actions. In a battle between capital ships, it was useless.
Briefly, he considered departing the bridge, leaving management of the battle in Commodore Beresick's obviously capable hands.
No dammit, he told himself angrily, frustration giving even his thoughts a rough edge. I'm still the commander of this task force, and my place is here.
Returning his attention to the battle, he watched as the Clan Whirlwind rolled al
ong her long axis, presenting her relatively undamaged starboard side to the Invisible Truth. The WarShips had been engaged in a close-quarters battle that alternately resembled a graceful waltz and a brutal slugging match. The Clan Whirlwind, with her superior speed and maneuverability, danced around the ponderous battle cruiser, pricking the Truth's hide with weapons better suited to destroying fighters than attacking a capital ship. The Truth's gunners did their best to answer the volleys of missile and laser fire, but the Clan ship captain always managed to evade the worst of the cruiser's attack.
Twice, the Truth had managed to deliver a devastating broadside to the darting, circling destroyer, but the Clan Whirlwind's heavy armor had blunted most of the damage. It was like a battle between a cat and a bear. The cat was faster, more agile, but the bear was stronger, and only needed one good bite.
"He's swinging around again!" the Truth's tactical officer shouted. "Cannons firing."
On a secondary monitor, Morgan saw minute flashes spring from the Clan WarShip's bow.
"For what we are about to receive, the Lord make us truly thankful," one of the bridge crewmen quipped, seconds before a volley of autocannon shells slammed into the Truth's port bow.
Armor shattered. The Invisible Truth trembled under the impact of the explosive shells. The Truth replied to this attack with a PPC blast.
The stream of high-energy protons cut into the Clan destroyer's armor like a blowtorch. The ship staggered under the blow, as she failed to slough off the fire savaging her ferro-carbide skin. The thick armor held, but a steaming crater forward of her secondary sensor array told how badly she'd been hit.
"Helm, twenty degrees to starboard. All guns, fire as you bear!" Beresick shouted. Seconds later, a pair of gray-painted missiles left a thin layer of black soot on the Truth's outer hull as they leapt free of their launch rails. For sixteen long seconds, Morgan watched the missiles' drive flares burn their way across the gap between the Invisible Truth and the Clan destroyer. Then, there was a brief explosion, as bright as the flare of a match. It faded.
"Missile number one intercepted and destroyed," the missile control officer sang out. A heartbeat later, a brighter fireball flashed into existence, expanded until it seemed to engulf the target vessel, and died out.
"Number two, direct hit."
Before the Clan Whirlwind could recover from the effects of the missile's warhead, a firestorm of particle, laser, and autocannon fire blasted into her hull. Armor spalled away in chunks the size of ground cars.
"Sensors indicate major damage to target vessel," the sensor tech reported.
"Put it on the screen," Beresick commanded. As the chief sensor operator complied with the order, Beresick rose from his seat to watch.
The Clan WarShip's armor had been breached. Dense clouds of ice crystals jetted away from deep holes reaching into the personnel spaces of the ship. Miniature lightning storms from the severed power feeds played across great scars in her hull. And, all along her six-hundred-meter length, fires burned through shattered viewports and rents in her hull. The total effect made it seem as though the destroyer was consuming herself in her death throes.
"Oh, my God." Morgan's whisper was a horrified prayer for a dying ship.
Out of control, the Clan Whirlwind canted sharply to starboard, dropping by her head as she rolled.
Beresick punched a switch on his command console.
"Clan Whirlwind, this is the Star League WarShip Invisible Truth. Abandon your vessel. We are standing by to take on survivors."
There was no reply.
"Whirlwind, this is no time for Clan heroics. Your ship is dead, let us take on survivors .. . Whirlwind, do you copy?" Cursing, Beresick slammed his fist down on the panel, shutting off the broad-band hail. "That evil, bloody-minded Clan bastard! He won't answer, even to save his crew!"
"Commodore, our comm system is out," shouted a horror-stricken crewman. "What?"
"Sir, that last attack hit the main communications array, blew the antennas clean off. Damage control says they can fix it, but it'll have to wait until we're out of this fur-ball first."
"Dammit." Beresick slammed his fist into his command console. "Air Boss, launch the Integrity and the Honor. Integrity is to lay alongside the Truth to act as a message-relay ship. Honor will assist in rescuing survivors."
It seemed like a long time before the Truth's Union Class DropShips were detached from their docking collars, and longer still until the secure laser communications link could be established between the relay ship and her parent vessel. The relay system was slow and clumsy, but by using the Integrity's long-range communications system, Beresick was able to maintain contact with the rest of the task force's WarShips.
Able to understand, but unable to contribute to, the delicate process of matching speed and direction between a 900,000-ton WarShip and a DropShip massing less than one percent of that, Morgan turned his attention, with a sort of sick fascination, back to the dying Whirlwind.
The Honor made its way, moving at "dead slow" speed, toward the burning destroyer. At several points along the Clan ship's flank and dorsal surfaces, Morgan saw tiny, brick-shaped lifeboats pulling away, backlit by the fires consuming the vessel. He counted six of the little rescue ships. He knew from his time aboard the Invisible Truth that lifeboats usually held only a half-dozen passengers, though ten could be crowded aboard if the survivors expected to be adrift but a short time.
Sixty men. Morgan shook his head in sorrow. Sixty, out of what? Beresick told me there are twice that many aboard the Ranger.
Cautiously, the Honor picked her way through the expanding field of twisted armor, charred structural members, and other debris. Twice, she came to a complete stop, allowing the minuscule life boats to drift into her empty fighter bay. In a display of courage as great as any Morgan had seen on the field of battle, the DropShip pulled to within five hundred meters of the wrecked Clan Whirlwind. The Honor's captain must have known that the burning destroyer might explode at any second. Still, he held his ship close aboard the shattered WarShip as the lifeboats made two more trips each.
When, after what felt like an eternity, the Honor backed away from the Clan destroyer, Morgan felt an odd tightness in his chest. He realized he had been holding his breath while he willed the DropShip away from the burning Clan WarShip.
"Message from the Honor, Commodore," a commtech sang out. "Captain Zeco reports ninety-six survivors taken off the Whirlwind, including her captain. Some are badly wounded. Survivors report the ship's name was Ursus."
"Very well. Have them brought aboard," Beresick said. "Get the wounded to sickbay, and lock the rest in the number four cargo hold."
* * *
Morgan watched the ghostly holographic image of the Haruna flicker as a blast of autocannon fire smashed into her side. His limited knowledge of naval warfare told him that the Combine frigate was primarily a fighter-defense ship. The majority of her weapons had been designed to counter the threat of small attack craft, rather than trade blows with another capital ship. Only the fact that she had been joined by a pair of assault ships had saved the Haruna from taking severe damage.
As he watched, the massive frigate swung, crossing her opponent's stern. Despite his own frustration at not being able to join the fight directly, Morgan could not help but be impressed at the way Captain DeMoise handled his ship. A flash lit the viewscreen, as one of the Avengers, gaps showing in its nose and right wing, swooped in, pressing home his attack against the Whirlwind's battered port side. The destroyer must have seen the disk-shaped DropShip begin its dive, because it unleashed a point-blank blast of PPC and laser fire into the attacking ship. The already-abused armor gave way, collapsing under the megajoule caress of the destroyer's laser cannons. The Avenger rocketed past the Clan ship, avoiding a collision by sheer good luck.
"Commodore, the Hainan reports severe damage to all major systems, Captain Cho is dead, and their weapons systems are out. Lieutenant Kindig is ordering 'Abandon ship.' "
Morgan felt a momentary pang as the holographic image of the Avenger assault DropShip flickered into a dull gray representation of its former self. As the Truth's sensors tracked the crippled vessel, the holotank would continue to display its location. Soon enough rescue would stand to, hoping to recover the Hainan's survivors.
The Whirlwinds image flickered as the Haruna raked her from stem to stern with her broadside guns.
"She won't last much longer," Beresick said, gesturing at the tiny Clan WarShip as he spared Morgan a word. "Look, the Haruna is reversing her turn. In a few more seconds, she'll blow the Clanner out of existence."
Evidently, the Clanner knew it too.
"Unknown WarShip, this is Star Captain Manfred Snuka, commanding the destroyer Fire Fang," the voice-only message broke from the Truth's bridge communications speakers. "My ship is no longer able to fight effectively. In accordance with your batchall, I concede the battle. My crew and I are your bondsmen."
"V-very well, Star Captain." To Morgan's ear, it sounded as though DeMoise was unprepared for such an occurrence. "Power down your drives and weapons. Stand by to be boarded."
"It will be as you say." Exhaustion, mixed with unbroken pride, colored Snuka's reply. "My ship and my crew are yours, as isorla."
As the communications link went dead, a quiet chuckle rumbled in Morgan's throat.
"What's so funny, sir?" Beresick asked, confusion evident on his face.
"Well, Alain." Morgan turned an amused grin on the naval officer. "You don't suppose the Coordinator will allow them to keep that ship, do you? To say nothing of her crew."
"Well, sir," Beresick smiled his reply. "Bushido does allow the taking of booty. It also permits keeping prisoners as personal servants. But, somehow, I think Theodore-san is going to ask for the Fire Fang as his liege-share."
Twilight of the clans III: the hunters Page 27