by Jay Allan
His force had held its own so far, but the ships they were facing were the same as his, crewed by old comrades, their training identical. It was comforting to think of his crews as veterans with an advantage against most opponents, but they were facing other Alliance warriors now, Palatians just like them. The superiority he’d come to take as a given in war was gone. The men and women trying to kill his people were their equals.
He fancied himself a skilled tactician, but despite his intense direction of the fight, his warriors were struggling to gain even a temporary respite. The split between Mellus’s forces had widened. The Commander was trapped with the flagship and two of her other battleships, plus a cluster of escorts, almost completely surrounded and under relentless assault.
He’d been wracking his brain for a way to cut open a path, to clear the way for Mellus and her ships to escape. But there was nothing he could conceive, at least not without Barron’s ships. It galled him to feel he needed the Confed vessels, but his prejudice didn’t blind him completely to their combat power. Maybe…just maybe, they could be the spearpoint, using their superior range to surprise the Red forces, and slice open a hole for Mellus’s battered ships to escape.
But Barron’s ships were nowhere to be seen. Tulus turned and looked at the display again, his frustration growing. But this time something came through the transit point as his eyes were fixed on the screen.
For an instant, he thought it might be one of Barron’s ships, but that hope only lasted a second or two. The vessel transiting was far too small.
It was one of his escorts, the scoutship he’d left behind to report on Dauntless and Illustrious.
Maybe they came through to report that Barron is on the way.
“Commander, Optiomagis Dyanis is…”
“Put her through.”
“Yes, sir…on your line.”
“Optiomagis, report,” Tulus snapped.
“Commander, Dauntless and Illustrious were attacked by Red forces hidden in the dust clouds near the Porea transit point. The last communication we received advised they were heavily engaged with multiple attack squadrons.”
The words hit Tulus like a sledgehammer. He’d been concerned about Red scouts hiding in the clouds, but a force large enough to engage two battleships? Two large and powerful Confed ships?
“Your report is neither complete nor conclusive, Optiomagis. What did your scanners pick up? You must have gotten readings from attacking battleships.”
“Negative, sir. We detected no battleships. We were too far out for detailed scans of fighter groups, but what we could read, plus the information in Dauntless’s transmissions, suggests more than twenty squadrons.”
“Twenty squadrons?” Tulus tried to bite back on the shock in his tone, but he couldn’t hold it all.
“Yes, sir.” A short pause. “At least.”
“With no battleships?”
“None that we could detect, sir.”
Tulus looked across the bridge, silent, his mind racing. There were no bases in Tarantum, no inhabited planets. Not even an outpost or refueling station. How could that many fighters operate there without battleships?
Unless the battleships are hiding somewhere…
He had no idea how the Reds could have assembled the force his people were now fighting plus another five or six battleships besides. But if there was a fleet that large, behind his ships…
On the only route back to Sentinel-2…
“Get me a line to Commander Mellus immediately.” He felt his throat tighten. If the Red fleet here could pursue his people…and a blocking force was waiting for them…
“On your channel, sir. Twenty-three second transmission time.”
Mellus’s ship was closer than it had been, but the distance was still considerable. “Commander Mellus, we have just received a report of substantial enemy forces in the Tarantum system.” He hesitated. If you had the guts you like to think you do, you’d tell her flat out, you’ve got to get your people out of here. Now. You’ve got to leave her to die. “Commander, I urge you to set a course for the transit point at maximum thrust, regardless of enemy activity. Immediately.” Coward. You know she’ll never make it. You might get the three closest ships out. But Mellus is trapped. She’s as good as dead.
He turned back toward his exec. “Set a course for the transit point. Maximum thrust.” The words were thick, forced from his throat. “Fleet order…all ships proceed to the transit point at top possible speed.” The thought of running from any fight was hard enough for a Palatian warrior to swallow. But fleeing and leaving comrades behind? Worse, pretending they have a chance, that you’re not just abandoning them…
He felt the urge to retract the order, to stand and fight against the overwhelming forces in front of his ships…and whatever dire threat lay behind. He could control his fear of death in battle. But a warrior’s creed went beyond bravery, to duty. It was at the core of everything that made him, made all of his officer and spacers, what they were. They were warriors, yes, but soldiers as well, parts of a greater whole. It would appease some primal need for him to stay and fight to the end alongside Mellus and her people. But the honor in such a course was false, overcome by the shame of failing his cause. Imperator Vennius couldn’t spare his ships, nor Barron’s Alliance craft. The Gray cause was on the verge of defeat already. If Tulus’s entire fleet was destroyed, the war would be as good as over.
“Commander Tulus…Vian.” Mellus’s words were somber as her response trickled into his headset. “You have done all you could, more than honor and comradeship demand. To share our fate would serve no purpose, for my warriors and I shall have sufficient company in death. Go, now. Extricate what forces you may. Half of my ships have a chance at escape. I entrust them to you. My sole request is for you to take them…do what you can to enable them to escape.” A short pause. “As I will do my best to create a diversion, to distract the enemy while you withdraw.”
Tulus sat bolt upright, still hearing the last words of Mellus’s message. Diversion? What is she going to do?
“Commander…”
His exec’s voice drew his attention, and he looked up, eyes finding their way to the main display, to the symbols representing Viribus and the ships around her.
Oh my God…
* * *
“I want damage control teams diverted to the reactors and engines, Ilius. We need that thrust.” Mellus had always referred to Sasca formally on the bridge, in front of other officers. She had a reputation as being a bit stiff, perhaps not a martinet, but tight in the way she conducted herself. But there didn’t seem to be a point now. Perhaps it was okay to let a little of the human being out from behind the grim warrior’s façade…before death came for them all.
“Yes, Commander.” Sasca’s tone was as firm as ever. Almost. Mellus’s ear caught a hint of emotion. Her aide knew as well as she did, their long partnership was almost at its end.
Every warrior must face that final battle…
“Maintain full fire, all batteries.” The longer the enemy was confused about her intentions, the better.
She looked at the display. Tulus’s forces were already blasting at full thrust. Good. It would take some time for the ships to offset their current vectors and establish a course for the transit point—and even more time for her three battleships, which were the farthest from the jump point. At least the farthest with any chance of getting out.
She felt a burst of uncertainty, a renewed round of hope that perhaps there was something she’d overlooked, to save her people. But rationality reasserted itself almost immediately. Mellus had never been one to believe in fantasies, and she wasn’t about to start now. There was no escape, not for her, nor for the crews of the vessels lined up around Viribus.
Still…there are different ways to die.
“Put me on the fleetwide comm, Ilius.”
“Yes, Commander…on your line.”
“All ships, please broadcast this over your intraship comm.
” She paused for a few seconds. “This is Commander Mellus. As you know, Viribus and half of the fleet is cut off, surrounded by enemy forces. Most of you are unaware that there are enemy forces operating in the Tarantum system as well. This necessitates that Commander Tulus and his forces, along with the ships of our fleet close enough to retreat, depart at once.” Another pause. “For those of you within range of the transit point, it is my final order to you that you retreat with Commander Tulus. I know such things are…difficult…for us, that many of you would choose to stand here, to fight to the finish. But there is more to a warrior’s soul than courage. There is duty.”
She looked around the bridge, at her officers watching her. They were staring in rapt attention. “For those of you who can reach the transit point, your duty is not to die here with us. It is to carry on the fight. In many ways, I know I lay a greater burden on you than on those of us trapped…but I urge you nevertheless to find the strength you need to continue the fight. For only in your ultimate triumph can our deaths be vindicated. I know most of you followed me into the service of the Red fleet, and then again in our attempt to correct that error, to join the Grays, and the legitimate Imperator. I have one final request of all of you, for it is not something that I can command. Go, escape this trap and join the Grays. Serve Imperator Vennius, and win the victory, not only for yourselves, or for me, but for all our people. Each of you carries with you my gratitude and my undying respect. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to command you all in battle.”
She cut the line, and she took a deep breath. “All right, Illius…” She looked around the bridge. “…all of you. Let’s do this.” She sat silently for a few seconds, then she said, “There.” She pointed toward the display, to a single small circle. “Tempestas.”
She turned and looked right at Sasca. “Increase reactor output to one hundred twenty percent. Ramming course directly for Tempestas.”
There was a brief silence, not a sound on the bridge save for the background hum of the engines. Then, “Yes, Commander. One hundred twenty percent.”
Mellus leaned back in her chair, trying to ignore the crushing pain of acceleration as the engines fired, driving a massive overload of thrust. She looked to the side, with considerable difficulty, checking on the rest of her officers. They were all focused on their stations, not a single one allowing themselves to be distracted by the g forces pressing against them.
She felt as though her ribs were breaking in her chest, and she turned slightly, trying to find a more comfortable posture.
“Maintain maximum possible laser fire, Commander.” She knew there wasn’t enough spare power for all her guns to fire, but she wanted every bit of destructive force she could get now. She couldn’t win the fight. She couldn’t even survive it. But she could see what filled the spine of her adversary.
“Forward batteries firing at maximum, Commander.”
Even as Sasca was finishing his report, she saw a pair of shots hit the target. Her hand in her lap balled into a triumphant fist. Her people knew they were doomed. They were working under terrible conditions, being crushed even as they raced toward their deaths. But they were at their stations, giving all they had. She felt the weight of guilt for leading them to this…but pride as well in who they were, the warriors they’d become under her command.
She glanced over at the display. Her ships closest to the transit point were following her orders. She could see the energy readings as they blasted at full thrust. They were all under attack…but if her plan worked, she might…just…take some of the pressure off. For long enough, at least.
She watched as her two closest battleship companions, and the small cloud of escort vessels trapped with her, pushed forward. She hadn’t given them explicit orders, but they’d fallen in around her ship, running interference as well as they could, trying to protect her flanks. It was clear they knew what she was attempting…and they were with her.
She winced as one of the frigates blinked from the scanner…and a few seconds later, another. Her eyes were still fixed on the screen when Viribus shook. Her abrupt course change—and the recklessness of running her reactors and engines on critical overloads—had confused her attackers, but now they came on with renewed vigor, her terrible purpose all too clear to them now.
Viribus lurched hard again…and then once more. The rumble of distant explosions shook the bridge, but Mellus ignored them. She could feel the engines still blasting, and as long as her ship had thrust, nothing else mattered. She imagined her engineers, rushing around the reactors, and the network of conduits that fed power to Viribus’s colossal engines. The reactor operating at one hundred twenty percent would be overloading its radiation control mechanisms. Her people down there were probably getting massive blasts of radiation, even lethal doses. But the continued operation of the engines attested to their diligence at their posts.
An engineer who stands at his post, tools in hand, dies no less a warrior’s death than a fighter with fingers gripped tightly around his rifle. There were no non-fighters aboard an Alliance vessel, and certainly not on hers. Medics charged into the flames and radiation to tend to the wounded. Stewards backed up their technician comrades, fighting fires and shoving structural supports back into place.
Her body snapped forward as the ship took another hit, a bad one this time. She felt the relief of freefall as the engines cut out completely. Though she savored the physical respite from the grinding pressure, she felt a sense of despair as well. It was too soon. Viribus was still too far out. Worse, her ships moving toward the transit point hadn’t gotten close enough…and they were still under heavy attack.
She’d made peace with her impending death, but not with sitting in space, crippled, as her enemies destroyed Viribus at their leisure. She was struggling to hold off the darkness, trying to focus on what she could do, when the thrust resumed, slamming her hard into her chair.
It wasn’t as strong as it had been, not quite, but it was enough. As long as we can maintain it.
She didn’t need to actually make it to her target, though she relished the thought of taking the enemy flagship down with her. No, she just needed to get close enough. It was a test of wills. She had given herself over to fate. She would die here, no matter what. But her counterpart, whoever was commanding this enemy fleet, did not expect to meet destruction here. That was the true test of courage. Will you stand and face what is coming toward you? Or will you blink? Will you call the rest of your ships in to stop us?
She stared at the screen, trying to imagine who she was facing off against. Calavius had a number of senior officers serving him, at least three or four of whom would have fought for this assignment. She had some idea of the ones likeliest to hold firm, but in the end, she was well aware, you could never know what someone would do until you put them in that position.
Are you ready to risk Viribus getting through? Are you ready to die, as your forces win the victory?
She glanced back at the screen as her ship shook again, and a shower of sparks flew across the bridge. Still nothing. Tempestas was blasting hard now, firing its thrusters to move away from the onrushing Viribus, but the rest of the fleet had not changed course. Damn.
She knew not every ship would react, not even if the opposing commander completely lost his nerve. But she didn’t need them all…she just needed enough to give her people an opening, to get them to the transit point before they were blasted to slag.
Viribus shook again, and a section of the ceiling came loose and crashed into the rear wall, into two of her people. She was about to call for a medic, but she managed to turn around under the intense g forces, and she could see immediately there was no reason. Her officers had been crushed against the bulkhead, one of them sliced literally in half by the steel girder. The gory scene struck at even her veteran’s resolve, and she felt nauseous.
She let herself fall back into her seat, wondering if it was more her stubbornness or the intense pressure slamming into her chest
that held back the vomit.
Come on…come on…call for help…
The fleet sent to attack her forces had changed its codes. All of Calavius’s ships would have done so once they’d gotten news of her defection, so she had no idea what was being said in the intrafleet communications channels. She wouldn’t know her opponent had called for aid until she saw the actual course changes on the scanners.
The screens on the bridge blinked off and then back on, as Viribus took yet another direct hit. Assuming we have scanners by then…
She was running out of time. Her ship couldn’t take much more. Viribus had already given her more than she had a right to expect, and the fact that the engines were still blasting so near to full thrust was a virtual miracle. One she knew she owed at least in part to her sweating, struggling…dying…engineers. She couldn’t imagine the nightmare down there, the rad leaks, the heat from insulation breaches, the hastily jury-rigged structural supports holding the whole engineering section together. Viribus could go at any time. One hit in the right spot, one blast to her tortured reactors, and it would be all over.
She could see her three battleships from the far wing, each of them moving toward the transit point. They were under attack from their flanks and rear, but they might just make it. If she could divert some of the attacking ships, even just the few closest to Viribus.
She stared straight ahead, frustrated that there was nothing more she could do except watch, and hope. Most of her escorts were gone now, the few that remained fighting six or seven times their number, desperately trying to provide what cover they could to the flagship. They’ll be gone in another minute, two at most.
She was about to turn away when a flash lit up the display. She knew what it was, even before she looked. Murus. The battleship had been on Viribus’s port, deflecting as much fire as possible while Mellus’s vessel continued its relentless approach to the enemy’s flagship. But Murus had given all she had to give, and now she had vanished in a blaze of thermonuclear fire.