Admiral's Challenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 8)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “No. Like I said: this is just a drill. If anyone asks, you can just tell them the Old Man had a wild hair and decided to take shipboard drills up to the next level,” Druid said with a smile.

  The corner of the Lieutenant Commander’s mouth ticked up. “I’ll do that,” he said easily.

  Shaking his head, Druid turned back to look at the countdown timer. As a ship commander, all the orders had been given and there was nothing else to do until something broke or they arrived in the next Star System along their route.

  Chapter Fifty-eight: Imperial Sweep

  “There’s no sign of the Prometheus Fire or any other Promethean survivors inside this star system, Sir,” reported the Captain of the Triumphant Nebula, a Dagger Class Imperial Destroyer.

  “I don’t want your excuses, Captain. I want that Cruiser—find it!” ordered Acting Rear Admiral—and former Imperial Captain, Junior Grade—Nicolas Wessex.

  “Aye-aye, Admiral,” the Captain of the Triumphant Nebula said neutrally.

  “It’s out here somewhere, Lieutenant Commander,” the Rear Admiral said, calming only fractionally, “if not in this system, then in another. They can’t have gone far.”

  “We’ll find them, sir,” said the Captain of the Triumphant.

  “I want their ship’s builder plate on the wall beside my graduation diploma from the Triad Imperial Naval Academy, Lieutenant Commander. I know they’re around here somewhere,” barked the Rear Admiral.

  The Captain of the Triumphant Nebula opened his mouth, but was distracted by a sudden stir behind him on the bridge of the Destroyer. Cocking his head for a long moment, the Lieutenant Commander nodded and turned back to the Acting Admiral.

  “Sir,” he turned back to the Admiral, “another ship has just jumped into this star system. It could be the Prometheus Fire,” he said with a hunter’s smile.

  “Whoever it is, they’re about to have a very bad day,” the Rear Admiral smiled crookedly. “Fight your ship, Captain,” he said, cutting the channel and then opening a line to his communications officer, “get me Captain Goddard on the line.”

  “Yes, Rear Admiral,” said the First Lieutenant manning the post this shift.

  Chapter Fifty-nine: Blown to Hades

  “Point Emergence,” reported the Parliamentary Power’s Navigator with controlled excitement.

  Druid nodded at yet another successful point-transfer and leaned forward intently as each department reported in and the ship opened back up.

  He listened with satisfaction as the sounds of a calm, professional crew—one in control of both themselves and their warship—ticked steadily through their checklists. As they did so, nothing jumped out at point blank range to cause them disaster and emergency.

  He was just starting to lean back in his command chair when his pleasant thoughts were rudely interrupted.

  “Contact!” cried one of the Sensor Operators.

  Druid had to suppress his reflexive frown. It had taken months to retrain the sensor operators sent to him by the Admiral from the Admiral’s personal flagship, and they’d had weeks without an exclamation incident backslide and now this.

  “I’m reading multiple warships…Capital Class!” the Operator reported with unprofessional excitement. “They’re on heading nine-zero-five by zero-zero-six, at speed two-four-zero,” the Operator reported with excitement.

  Druid’s blood ran cold.

  “This is an empty system; no one’s supposed to be here,” said Lieutenant Commander Slim, mirroring his Commodore’s thoughts and speaking with a sense of suppressed urgency in his voice.

  On the screen, the icons of a squadron of warships—with sizes still to be determined—appeared far too close to the Parliamentary Power for Druid’s comfort.

  “Activate our friend or foe IFF signal and initiate a standard hail and challenge protocol, Coms,” Druid ordered, his mouth running on instinct as his mind raced. Then he turned to Tactical, “Open gun ports and go to active combat targeting, Tactical. I want gunnery ready to return fire five minutes ago.”

  “First Squadron confirmed: four Cruiser class warships, unknown make and model,” reported the Sensor Operator who had originally spotted the group.

  “Commodore,” cut in the Sensor Officer, “we’ve just identified a squadron of three Destroyers at new coordinates on a separate course…they’re near the system gas giant. It took a few minutes to spot them because of the moons, but they’re at military power on the drives and they’ve gone to active scans. They’re looking for something, sir.”

  “Holy moly,” yelped a Sensor Technician, “I’m reading a pair of battleships outside the hyper limit in close proximity to each other. Power signatures indicate they’ve been charging their jump drives for several hours.”

  Druid clenched his fist. “What’s their friend or foe identification?” he barked rounding on his Comm. Officer.

  “They’re squawking Reunification Navy, 3rd Fleet, Task Force 5 on the IFF channel, Commodore. No response to our hails or challenge as of yet,” the Officer said tensely.

  “And I walked in it…fat, dumb, and happy,” Druid mentally castigated himself for thinking he was alone out here with the biggest, baddest ship in this part of the Sector. There were two other battleships in this system alone!

  “Sir?” asked Slim.

  “Start charging the hyper drive, point us away from this System, and go to full military power on the engines—now!” he snapped, ignoring his XO for the moment. “Notify me at once, if there is a reply to our challenge!”

  “Aye-aye’s!” echoed throughout the bridge.

  “They could belong to a Core World’s SDF,” Lieutenant Commander Slim pointed out, playing devil’s advocate as was his job.

  “Squawking that Reunification Navy, 3rd Fleet business? Not bloody likely,” Druid said angrily.

  “It could be cover; we’ve had reports of a blockade on Prometheus,” said the XO.

  “Activate the ship’s long range array and get me the ComStat network. I want an emergency update to Admiral Montagne ASAP. Start with ‘encountered Reunification Navy x2 Battleships, unresponsive to hails’ and work your way down the warship listings as we identify them,” Druid said ignoring the last comment from his XO. “And Comm., get me the commander of those battleships on the horn.”

  “Long range array deployed, signal strength is low,” the com-tech reported. “We’re at extreme range relative to the nearest com-bug, Commodore. Attempting to boost our strength and link up.”

  Druid opened his mouth.

  “Point Transfer!” screamed a trio of Sensor Operators all getting the information at the same time.

  The screen rippled and shook as an enemy warship appeared—doing so well within medium range of their heavy laser weaponry.

  “Gunnery is locking on target. Do we have a ‘go, no-go’ on weapons free for our broadside weaponry, Commodore?” Tactical called out over the growing din.

  “Slewing the ship around to bring port broadside to bear,” the helmsman said, maneuvering the ship on his own initiative.

  “It’s big, sir…larger than a battleship,” shouted the Sensor Officer, “computer has tentatively identified it an Imperial Command Carrier!”

  “Weapons hot—fire at will as soon as you have a target,” Druid snapped, hoping to get in a few shots before the enemy’s shields came up. “Keep us on target so our weapons can be brought to bear, but work an angle so we can continue to open the distance, Helm.”

  “Hit!” exclaimed Tactical as the Parliamentary Power’s turbo- and heavy lasers slammed into the Command Carrier’s unshielded port side, “multiple hits to the Imperial Carrier’s outer hull…no out-gassing registered at this time.”

  “Keep it up!” snapped Druid.

  “We can’t fight the Empire, Commodore,” Lieutenant Commander Slim reminded him.

  “I don’t know of any Reclamation Fleet in the Empire,” Druid growled, “and unless and until they identify themselves for who and what they
really are, they’re nothing more than pirates as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Pirates with two battleships and a Command Carrier?” urged the XO. “Let me clarify: we can’t fight an Imperial Command Carrier, sir!”

  “You think I want this?” Druid looked at him strangely and Slim flushed. “I’m charging the hyper drive and trying to leave—they’re the ones that aren’t giving us much of a choice—”

  The Power shook beneath their feet, cutting the debate short.

  “Imperial Carrier launching fighters and firing secondary weaponry,” reported Tactical.

  “Shields down to 78%,” reported the Shields operator.

  “Open a channel to that Carrier,” Druid commanded.

  “Enemy Carrier is charging its main weaponry,” reported Tactical with a hint of dread in his voice, “unknown time until their main cannon is charged.”

  “Channel open; you are broadcasting in the clear, sir,” said Coms.

  On the view screen, the Command Carrier’s shields fluctuated and came on at full power.

  “Commander of hostile Command Carrier, this is Commodore Druid of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet. You are in Confederation space. I say again: this is a Confederation Fleet Battleship, operating within Confederation space on a routine patrol. I demand you cease combat operations and withdraw from this star system,” he said.

  The screen flickered, and all around him departments reported as the battle raged. Weapons fire erupted from each ship, cascading from one to the other—and so far, the Parliamentary Power getting the worst of it now that the Carrier’s shields were back up.

  “This is Captain Goddard of the Reclamation Main Battle Fleet,” said a stern-faced Imperial looking officer in a standard Imperial Uniform with strange insignia in the place of the usual Imperial regalia. “This Sector of Space has been abandoned by both the Empire and the Confederacy; we are the new power in this region of space.”

  Druid blinked and then glared at the other man. “Break off your attack and withdraw,” the Commodore ordered.

  “You are instructed to strike your shields, step down your fusion generators, and prepare to be boarded. If you act in full and total compliance with my orders, you and your crew will be escorted off your ship and placed in an internment camp until hostilities have ceased. You and your men will be held as enemy combatants, but no charges will be brought against you in relation to your actions so far. You will not be held responsible for the misguided belief that you were doing your duty as you wrongly understood it,” Captain Goddard said, his eyes seeming to drill into the main screen. “But be warned: if you continue to resist, this offer will be rescinded the moment so much as even one of my men are seriously wounded in this action.”

  Druid’s nostrils flared. His ship was hopelessly outgunned and totally outnumbered—even forgetting the Command Carrier.

  “Sir, what are your orders,” Lieutenant Commander Slim demanded in his ear.

  “I’ve got this, Commander,” Druid replied, his eyes burning into the XO’s.

  Slim nodded and took a step back, and Druid turned back to face the Captain of the Command Carrier.

  “All I want is to withdraw my ship from this star system, Captain,” the Confederation Commodore said evenly, “if you do so, you can continue along with your business until after I return home to report and receive direction. I swear it on my honor as an officer.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Commodore,” Captain Goddard said flatly, “this region will be reunified under a single authority, and I cannot allow potential agitators who claim affiliation with the old order to interfere with the Reclamation effort.”

  “Piracy, by any other name, then,” Druid ground out.

  “You have been given two warnings; there will not be a third,” Goddard warned.

  Druid sucked in a deep breath while his mind raced. He could give up his ship and his men while meekly walking off toward a prison. His ship, undamaged, would then fall into the hands of the very sorts of people he was sworn to defend this sector against. Or he could fight a hopeless fight and, in all likelihood, die.

  The choice was clear.

  “Then I’ll see you in, Hades,” Druid snapped before ordering the channel closed. “Helm, roll the ship and push the engines to full speed if they aren’t already. Tactical, fire as the starboard side is brought to bear.”

  “Firing, aye,” the Tactical Officer swallowed and turned back to his console.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” Slim asked.

  Druid’s eyes flared. “It is our duty to defend this Sector against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and these ‘Reclamationists’ sure as anything qualify as enemies in my book,” he said direly.

  Slim lowered his voice. “This is a hopeless battle; you know that. We won’t be able to jump before we are destroyed,” said the XO.

  “Where there’s life, there’s hope…and even,” he said lifting a hand to stall the protest he knew was forming, “when all hope is lost, it is our duty to deny any aid to the enemy. I won’t allow this battleship to fall into the hands of our enemies. Besides,” he bared his teeth, “this battle isn’t over yet!”

  “Yes sir!” Slim said seeming to rally taking comfort from Druid’s words.

  “Enemy Carrier is charging main cannon!” yelled Tactical.

  “Full power to the starboard shields!” roared Druid.

  “Redirecting now,” called back the Shield Officer.

  “Carrier is launching fighters,” reported Sensors.

  “I’m not sure how powerful their main spinal cannon is; it’s rated a level above the turbo-laser, officially, but I’ve got no records of its actual effect on a ship of this class,” warned Tactical.

  “Helm, put a spin on her and roll this ship,” barked the Commodore.

  “Carrier is launching fighters, si—” started the Sensor Officer.

  “Rolling now—” said the Helmsman.

  Space seemed to warp, and a giant white beam of energy lanced out from the nose of the massive Imperial Warship.

  With a flash and a puff of smoke, half of the bridge’s starboard consoles went dark—including the four-man section that controlled the ship’s shields. The power loss was followed instantly by a lurch to port, and the sudden screech of metal pressed well beyond its endurance.

  “Hold!” bellowed Druid, as if he could hold his ship together by ordering it to do so.

  The ship’s gravity twisted like a snake in the gut, and a red alert siren indicating heavy damage starting howling as the grav-plates flickered, and finally died changing everything to zero-gee.

  “Damage control! Tactical! Report,” ordered Druid as men and women who had failed to strap themselves in started floating out of their seats. The main lighting died only to instantly be replaced with the red of emergency lighting.

  “Tactical Computers booting back up,” reported Tactical.

  Druid’s eye cut toward Damage Control.

  “Starboard trunk line has been severed, causing major power fluctuations. Attempting to transfer to the port side, but damage to the secondary power distribution network is causing difficulties,” reported the Lieutenant at Damage Control. “Inner hull penetration on Decks Seven through Ten; major out-gassing reported, internal blast doors automatically activated.”

  “What about shields?” Druid demanded.

  “Starboard shield generator unresponsive. Attempting to reroute to this console and initiate a system reboot,” reported Damage Control.

  “Get my shields back up,” Druid growled, while slowly the dark, unresponsive bridge consoles booted back into life.

  “Port shields coming back up,” the Shield Officer reported as soon as his console finished booting up.

  “Helm, continue on course and put the port side toward that Imperial Carrier,” Druid barked, “and someone get my starboard shields back up!”

  “Bow thrusters are unresponsive,” reported the Helm as he labored with a red and sweating face ov
er the controls, “going to backups on the secondaries…I have a response on the starboard side.”

  Druid could tell the moment the thrusters started to work again as the ship seemed to groan and twist before finally settling. That wasn’t natural, and internally the Commodore started to wonder just how bad the damage had really been.

  The main screen flickered and wavered before turning back on. However, everything was unmoving and still set at its last known position, before the readout hiccoughed one more time, causing icons to jump before beginning to move once again.

  What he saw on the screen made him set his jaw defiantly.

  “Engineering reports major buckling on the starboard side internal supports. They hit us hard, sir; they say we can’t take another shot like that one,” reported Damage Control.

  “One shot,” Druid whispered with disbelief as the realization began to catch up with him. If even a fully-armed, armored, and shielded Dreadnaught class Battleship couldn’t take more than one shot from an Imperial Command Carrier, then...

  It was a worry for another day. As of right now, his first—no, his only—priority was getting as far away from the Command Carrier as he could so he could save his crew and his ship, in that order.

  “Chief Engineer Johanson strongly recommends we step down to the engines to 75% of maximum,” reported the Helmsman.

  “Cut the engines by 25%; has he lost his mind?!” Druid snapped, pulling up the screen on the arm of his captain’s chair and comparing the speed of the Parliamentary Power against that of the Command Carrier. What he saw caused his jaw to tighten even more. Even at their best speed, they weren’t likely to get away. For a ship twice the size of their battleship, the Command Carrier was far too fast for comfort.

  In that moment, he came face to face with a harsh reality: Imperial tech really was superior to the aging Confederation tech base.

  “He says the internal hull’s been compromised; if we don’t slow down the ship’ll tear herself apart,” reported the Helmsman.