by Ken Lozito
The lighting on the bridge dimmed and Connor felt a shimmy move through the weakened hull of their ship. Their two remaining drive pods gleamed as they were brought to maximum capacity. The Vigilant lurched forward with the maneuvering thrusters firing at the behest of the navigation computers that kept the ship on course. The energy drain on their main reactor was enormous, and Connor ordered all available power to the engines and the comms array. They had to keep that signal up for as long as they could.
The Vigilant flew through a nightmarish maze of charged particle beams in the heart of the Vemus fleet. Connor watched the PRADIS screen, knowing that a maelstrom of HADES IV missiles was about to tear the Vemus fleet apart.
“Detonation detected, sir,” Lieutenant LaCroix said.
Connor looked at the main holoscreen and saw that the first wave of HADES IV missiles was striking at the rearmost forces of the Vemus fleet. They would drive the Vemus forces forward into the orbital defense platforms that were stationed at the Lagrange points around the planet.
Klaxon alarms blared on the bridge as a particle beam lanced through the forward section of the ship. There was nothing he could do for the CDF soldiers serving there. Bulkhead doors would automatically shut and there were damage-control teams moving to the area. The casualty count kept rising. How many more of them would need to die in order to stop this enemy fleet?
A rough shimmy worked its way through the ship and Connor gritted his teeth. He didn’t need LaCroix to confirm that they were now within the shockwaves of multiple HADES IV missiles that had delivered their warheads.
The optical sensors went offline and the holoscreen blanked out. They still had PRADIS, but for how long?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Chmiel had passed the orbital defense platforms and Captain Benson had his ship on an approach to New Earth. It seemed strange to Noah to be offloading people from the ship when there was an attack force on its way to the planet. HADES IV missiles had been launched from the defense platforms and the monitoring systems running on those platforms reported updates for as long as they could. Once the warheads started to detonate, they lost their visibility into what was happening to the enemy and, more importantly, what the fate of the Vigilant was to be. In the lengthy time between updates, the snapshots showed the Vemus ships in the interior of the attack force going into complete disarray and the ships on the edge converging in a feeble attempt to restore order.
The chaotic mass of enemy ships moved closer to them.
“Orbital defense platforms have begun firing their weapons,” Kara said.
“How do they even know what they’re firing at?” Noah asked.
“They’re using the rail-guns to paint the targets, then the plasma-cannon to finish the job,” Kara said.
Shuttles were inbound from New Sierra and would be arriving soon. Offloading the CDF personnel from Titan Space Station would begin as soon as they arrived. Noah felt completely drained and useless. They’d succeeded in updating the targeting systems of the missile-defense platforms, but this constant waiting was wearing on his nerves. Even now, those missiles were tearing apart the remains of the Vemus fleet, but there was no way for them to know exactly how much damage they were inflicting on the enemy. Were the orbital defense platforms enough to finish the job?
Thirty minutes later the shuttles arrived. They still hadn’t gotten usable data from the missile-defense platforms. Most of them were now offline, which wasn’t a surprise given how much interference there was from all the detonations in the area.
“COMCENT has sent a request for you to be in the first group to return to the planet,” Captain Benson said.
Noah’s brows pulled together. Jade protocol—protect the best and the brightest. “I’m not going,” he said harshly.
Kara looked at him in concern.
“I may not officially be in the Colonial Defense Force, but refusing direct orders isn’t tolerated, as far as I know,” Captain Benson said.
Noah clenched his teeth. “You’ve done as they asked and delivered the message. I’m not going anywhere, not until I know what happened to the Vigilant.”
Captain Benson regarded him for a moment. “I understand, and I’ll have them informed.”
Noah looked away and focused on the main holoscreen. He didn’t want to believe the Vigilant was gone. They must have survived but were unable to contact them.
Stay focused, Noah thought to himself.
Captain Benson had given them full access to the ship’s systems, so he went over to his terminal and opened the communications interface for the Chmiel. He started scanning different broadcast signals, hoping for some sign that the Vigilant was still intact.
The Chmiel was a cargo ship and wasn’t equipped with military-grade sensor arrays or high-res optics. They had standard avoidance protocols, which could identity if a ship was in the vicinity of a communications array. The data that fed the plot on the main holoscreen was hours old, so Noah removed the plot in favor of using the limited optics on the ship. They could see flashes of bright red from the orbital defense platforms, but the targets the onboard computers were firing at were too far away to see. He rubbed his eyes, giving them a momentary respite. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept and he was sure he could use a shower.
He snorted as a thought came to mind. Kara glanced at him questioningly.
“I just thought of something. Don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me before,” Noah said.
He opened a comms channel to the orbital defense platforms and connected to their onboard computer systems. Since the Chmiel had the slowest data processing capabilities imaginable, Noah stopped what he was doing to consider how best to access the data he wanted.
“I got this. We just need to see what it’s firing at,” Kara said and took over the comms session. She quickly coded a query to pull only the targeting data from the system and then had it output to the plot they’d used before.
The software suite took the new data and added it to the plot.
“Thanks,” Noah said tiredly.
They watched as ships emerged from the area where their last payload of HADES IV missiles had torn into the Vemus fleets. The targeting systems first scoured the area for something to shoot and then fired their weapons. If the Vigilant was there, it would have to broadcast its unique identifier so the orbital defense platforms wouldn’t fire at it. They couldn’t tell what the condition the few ships appearing on the plot were in, only that they were there.
A bright flash shone from the sub-holoscreen, followed by an explosion as one of the orbital defense platforms went offline. The weapons systems on the remaining two platforms targeted another blip on the plot. The ship was still far away. There was another bright flash that lanced across their video feeds.
Noah’s screen began filling with errors as the orbital defense platforms’ systems became unresponsive.
“That has to be a main weapon from a battleship carrier,” Kara said.
Noah was about to reply when he noticed another ship appearing on the plot, but then it just as quickly disappeared. Noah leaned in, peering at the holoscreen.
“What did you see?” Kara asked.
“I thought I saw the Vigilant,” Noah said.
The CDF ship signatures appeared as green on the plot so they could easily identify friendly ships. Noah glanced at the terminal session he had open to the orbital defense platforms. The data connection for one of them was still alive. He did a quick rundown of the critical systems.
“We have to help them,” Noah said.
“What can we do? This isn’t a warship,” Captain Benson said.
“I know what I saw. The Vigilant is still out there, fighting,” Noah said.
He turned back to his workstation, his eyes taking in all the holoscreens with renewed vigor. “The plasma-cannon from that platform is still online. It can still fire,” Noah said.
He pulled up the targeting systems and they were online as well. Noa
h frowned, trying to think of why the weapon wasn’t firing, and glanced at one of the error messages on the screen.
::Turret field out of alignment.::
Noah pointed to the error message and looked at Kara. “Do you know what this means? What turret field?”
Kara peered at the error. “It means the actual turret is damaged and the system can’t point the weapon in the right direction.”
Noah rubbed the top of his head and pulled his hair. “We have to get out there,” he said, rising out of his chair.
Captain Benson shook his head. “There are thousands of lives on this ship. We can’t just stop offloading people to the surface.”
Several members of the Chmiel’s bridge crew turned in their direction and glanced at both of them.
Noah clenched his teeth. He suspected the bridge crew would overwhelm him if the captain ordered it. Regardless, the cargo ship captain was right. “What about a shuttle? Something. You must have something you use to do visual inspections of the ship.”
Captain Benson’s mouth hung open, then he swallowed hard. “We do have a shuttle.”
“Fine. I’m taking the shuttle. Where is it?” Noah asked and started walking toward the doors.
“Mid-ship hangar. I’ll tell them you’re coming down,” Captain Benson said.
Noah fled the bridge and Kara followed him.
“You didn’t think I was going to let you go off by yourself,” Kara said.
Noah knew better than to ask her to stay behind. Truth be told, he’d need the help. He didn’t know how to fix a turret, but he had to do something. He had to find a way to get that plasma-cannon to fire its weapons again.
They ran to the small mid-ship hangar. The shuttle was strictly used on maintenance runs for the ship. Noah had learned to fly years ago because Lenora Bishop had questionable flying skills, and he preferred softer landings.
They climbed aboard and headed for the cockpit. After a quick check of the flight systems, they flew the shuttle away from the cargo ship. Noah punched in the coordinates for the orbital defense platforms. The distance to the Lagrange point from New Earth wasn’t that far. There hadn’t been any more weapons fire from the battleship carrier. The Vemus must have thought the platforms were no longer a threat. While the shuttle was en route, he and Kara slipped into EVA suits. They didn’t engage their helmets, which were collapsed into a tight compartment near the base of the necks.
There was a debris field from the remains of the other platforms, and Noah piloted the shuttle through it, heading toward one of the larger sections that was intact. The shuttle was highly maneuverable and they quickly wove their way through. Noah engaged the searchlights.
“The cannon looks intact,” Kara said.
It appeared that the orbital defense platform had been sheared in half and the section that housed the rail-cannon was nowhere to be found. Noah circled around the large plasma-cannon. There was a damaged section that was blackened from when it had been hit, but the cannon itself looked intact. Most of the damage was restricted to the base of the cannon where the rollers were that swung it in the direction it was to fire.
Noah patched into the platform’s systems. Power levels were slowly falling, but there was enough to fire a few more shots. Now all they had to worry about was aiming the plasma-cannon, and he had no idea how they were going to do it.
Chapter Thirty
Connor didn’t know how the Vigilant was still holding together. It might have been their relatively central position when the HADES IV missiles had hit the remains of the Vemus fleet. Or perhaps it was the Vemus signal they’d been disrupting that prevented them from launching countermeasures or taking evasive maneuvers. What he did know was that the enemy ships had formed a temporary cocoon that protected them from destruction.
Connor glanced through his helmet at the others on the bridge. He’d ordered the surviving crew to go to life support. There were large sections near the central part of the ship where the interior atmosphere was intact, including the bridge, but places like the forward rail-gun batteries were completely exposed.
“Ops, what’s the status of 01?” Connor asked.
They’d been having problems getting ammunition to their only remaining rail-cannon due to extensive damage to the ship. Engineering teams were connecting a workaround to take the ammunition from other rail-gun batteries that were damaged beyond repair.
“They’re still working on it. A few minutes more, sir,” Sergeant Browning said.
Connor glared at the blank PRADIS output. They were still flying blind. There was another Vemus battleship carrier that had been hidden away in the rear of the fleet, and there had been a handful of smaller vessels that survived the onslaught of HADES IVs, but they’d been picked off by the orbital defense platforms.
The PRADIS screen became active and showed a Barracuda-class battleship carrier nearby. It was heavily damaged and Connor narrowed his gaze at the onscreen designation. Indianapolis. The battleship carrier had fired its main particle-cannon, which had chewed through the orbital defense platforms in short order.
They tracked the battleship carrier visually since their sensor array was offline. The damage-assessment teams couldn’t make it to where the sensors were housed and the armored hatches that protected the secondary sensor array had been damaged. If it weren’t for the optical array, they’d be flying completely blind.
New Earth appeared as a bright blue orb in the distance, but the Vemus battleship carrier was much closer to them. The exoskeletal hull had been burnt away by the fusion warheads of the HADES IVs, and there were large sections of the original battle-steel hull once again exposed to space.
“Do I have to go down to the forward sections and load the damn gun myself? I need that weapon now!” Connor growled.
If they couldn’t get the rail-cannon back online, Connor would order the remaining crew to abandon ship and he’d take out the engines of the battleship cruiser himself.
“Sir, they’re really close,” Sergeant Browning said.
Major Hayes had left the bridge to organize the engineering crews. Connor knew the man was doing everything he could, but it just might not be enough. The Vemus appeared hell-bent on getting at least one of their ships to the planet that the last of humanity called home. But no trace of the Vemus could be allowed to reach New Earth, which might include the Vigilant’s crew since some of them had been exposed.
Connor could barely discern where the orbital defense platforms had been. All that was left of them was debris. All their preparation for the past seven years had led to this. That enemy ship must be stopped.
Connor opened a comms channel to broadcast to the entire ship. “All hands—”
“Sir, rail-cannon is back online!” Sergeant Browning said.
Connor glanced at the operations officer and gave him a nod. “We’re about to make our final attack run on the enemy. We’re all that stands between them and our home. Should this attack run fail to disable that ship, I will sacrifice this ship in order to stop the enemy from reaching New Earth.”
Connor closed the comms channel. “Tactical, one more firing solution. Concentrate fire behind the MPDs. Helm, keep us in position as long as you can.”
Connor’s orders were confirmed. He heard some of his officers muttering a prayer. The die was about to be cast, and sometimes one had to roll the hard six.
Noah and Kara left the shuttle, each of them carrying a plasma cutter. He thought that if he could remove some of the damaged sections, he could free the turret enough so they could align it for a shot, but they had to move fast. The plasma-cannon was the size of a large building. They quickly circled around the base and closed in on the damaged sections. Noah peered at the area and there were several large pieces of twisted metal jutting out from the base. They looked to have been pieces from another platform.
He’d been poised, ready to use the plasma cutters, but when he saw the extent of the damage, he glanced down helplessly at the tool. If he
had a week and a crew of fifty, he might have been able to do something.
“This isn’t going to work,” Noah said.
Kara had been standing off to the side and had an access panel open. “Come over here.”
Noah walked over to her, his mag-boots keeping him firmly attached to the metallic surface.
“What did you find?” Noah asked.
“Look here. There are still some thrusters active,” Kara said.
Noah peered at the maintenance terminal and his eyes widened. “You’re a genius! Come on. We need to get back to the shuttle,” he said, a plan forming in his mind.
He’d been so focused on trying to fix the turret that he’d overlooked the main problem of just aiming the weapon. The orbital platforms were large space vehicles designed to be stabilized while the weapons were active. Stability came with the use of gravity fields, along with redundant power stations.
“I should have caught this,” Noah said as they went through the hatch and back onto the shuttle.
“We both missed it. I didn’t even think of it until we saw the extent of the damage,” Kara replied.
Noah sat in the pilot’s seat and engaged the shuttle’s controls, easing away from the base of the plasma-cannon.
“I have thruster control online,” Kara said.
Noah swung the shuttle around so they could see the approach of the enemy warship. There were several bright flashes of light and he felt his mouth go dry. Kara gasped. If that ship fired on them, they had no chance of getting away.
Noah squinted, trying to extract every bit of detail from the tele-view on the shuttle’s heads-up display. There were more flashes of light, but it was gleaming sections of the battleship carrier as it tumbled toward them, out of control. The flashing was from the ship’s magneto-drive pods, half of which were disabled.
Noah brought up the platform’s control systems. “I’m ready to disable the gravity field.”
“Go,” Kara replied.