The hatch itself should have been open and wasn’t. It had been closed and sealed since he left, and the sight of the heavy steel airlock door sent a chill down his spine as he registered an acrid, metallic scent.
He couldn’t see the MPs, but he was suddenly coldly certain what had happened to them.
Andrew wasn’t surprised when Washington’s security hatches proved to be locked, but he was the destroyer’s Captain. The security panel eventually gave way under his override codes, both of the airlock doors sliding open as he shut down the safety precaution.
The faint smell of blood turned into a wall and he looked into the airlock at the two MPs who’d cheerfully waved him out barely fifteen minutes before. Both were dead, shot in the back at close range.
For a moment, all Washington’s Captain could do was stare at the bodies in shock, swallowing down his gorge as he struggled to make sense of things. The only conclusion he could reach was that someone was aboard his ship.
Rallying his brain to the job, he realized that the MPs’ guns had been tossed in with them. The stubby SMGs were still the old UESF-issue, twelve-millimeter weapons loaded with rocket rounds—weapons that Andrew was trained on.
He wasn’t any kind of expert, but he could aim and fire. He took one of the weapons, muttering an apology to the dead MP as he made sure it was loaded. No one had interrupted him so far, so he might still have a chance.
Hopefully, there were only a handful of traitors aboard, but, one way or another, Andrew Lougheed’s place was on Washington’s bridge.
#
Washington’s corridors were as silent as the grave. Unlike BugWorks itself, though, it was obvious why that was…and grave was far too appropriate a metaphor.
Most of the people aboard the destroyer would have been at one station or another, but many of the tasks required aboard a docked ship getting ready to stand down called for individuals or small teams to wander the corridors, making sure that volatile lines and similar risk factors were rendered safe.
Whoever had killed the MPs appeared to have followed the same route to the bridge Andrew was now following, and they’d run into several of those small teams—and killed them all.
Andrew passed at least a dozen corpses in the corridors, accelerating his pace each time. None of them appeared to have fought back. All had been gunned down at close range, without struggling.
He ran into no one alive between the main airlock and the bridge, and a cold certainty settled into his chest. The only explanation he could see was that they’d known their killer, a thought that was neither welcome nor, somehow, a surprise.
The bridge security hatch was closed and sealed, in full counter-mutiny mode. Unfortunately for whoever had sealed it, the warship’s A!Tol designers had been seriously paranoid. Those seals could not be locked against the Captain’s override code.
With a deep breath, Andrew readied the submachine gun and input that code. The massive hatch slid slowly but silently open, revealing a tableau from his worst nightmares.
Arendse had been holding down the bridge with three petty officers and six technicians. Half of the crew were dead or wounded, lying immobile on the deck where they’d been shot. The other half were backed against the wall, their hands in the air.
The young African officer was on her knees in front of the crewmembers, her hand pressed to her shoulder where she’d clearly been shot, facing Thomas Warner as the XO pointed an ugly suppressed pistol at them.
“Dammit, Thomas, what the hell is this?” Arendse demanded. “Are you insane?”
“Sorry, Farai,” Warner said calmly as he extended the gun toward her head. “You knew what happens to collaborators. Good night.”
Andrew fired first.
He wasn’t a good shot and the first several rounds slammed into the floor—but his training had been good. He used the recoil to walk the bullets up and across Warner’s torso, the impacts knocking his XO forward and forcing Warner to miss.
The pistol collapsed to the floor as Andrew charged to his XO’s side, rolling the man over as he coughed blood onto the floor.
“Fuck you,” Warner spat. “Traitor. Don’t have to pretend anymore.” He coughed up more blood. “Could have just let…me strip the ship. Then…no one here would have died.”
“I swore an oath,” Andrew said flatly.
“You broke an oath,” Warner told him. “Everything…after…was just a lie.”
The man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he spasmed again, coughing chunks of blood, then was still.
Andrew stared at him for a long moment, then shook himself.
“PO Martin, grab the first aid kit, see if you can get Farai’s wound bound,” he snapped as he looked to see who was alive. “PO Calypso, take the helm. Close the hatches, get us moving away from BugWorks.”
“What’s going on, sir?” Arendse asked, keeping pressure on her wound.
“The Weber Network is trying to steal the Capitals,” Andrew told her. “Which makes Washington the only warship in Sol I know we can rely on.”
#
Andrew took a moment to be sure Arendse was all right, double-checking Petty Officer Martin’s bandaging.
“I’ll live, sir,” she told him. “Where do you need me?”
“Calypso’s on helm,” he reminded her. “You did the tac-console training, right?”
“I’ve only been on a live console twice, sir,” she warned him, gasping as Martin tightened the bandage around her shoulder.
“That puts you ahead of everyone else on the bridge, Lieutenant,” Andrew told her. “Including me. I need a tactical breakdown and I need someone ready on the weapons. Can you do that?”
Arendse glanced at the Petty Officer bandaging her, apparently focusing on his tactical department shoulder flash.
“Martin and I can make it happen,” she said firmly. “PO, can you help me to the console?”
“Of course, Lieutenant,” the old spacer with the buzz cut said promptly, looking at her with something Andrew hoped was newfound respect as he helped her balance with his shoulder.
Andrew left them to it and dropped into his command chair, mirroring the consoles to his screen as he tried to get a feel for just what was going on.
The destroyer shivered as he did so, Calypso tearing multiple umbilicals and airlock connections apart as she moved the destroyer away. The petty officer was a qualified pilot, but some aspects clearly hadn’t occurred to her.
A series of commands from Andrew’s chair locked down airlocks and fuel lines, preventing leakage as Washington cleared BugWorks Station.
“Lieutenant Arendse,” he said formally. “What’s our weapon status?”
It was an easy question, one a tactical officer would normally have immediately to hand. It still took her and Martin a moment to find it.
“Magazines are full,” she reported. “Point seven cee birds. Proton-beam capacitors are discharged—we’re initiating the charging cycle now but we won’t have beam weapons for at least fifteen minutes.”
“The capacitors shouldn’t have been discharged until morning,” Andrew objected.
“Records show Warner discharged them several hours ago,” Arendse told him. “Fifteen minutes is a long time, sir.”
“Missiles should be enough,” he concluded. “I don’t think Warner was expecting this ship to be combat-capable at all.”
“Sensor sweeps are online,” Arendse continued. “We are still being jammed, but we have eyes again.”
The holotank started to fill with details.
“What’s the status of the Capitals?”
“Ottawa and Geneva are cold,” Martin reported for Arendse. “Canberra and London have begun their warm-up sequences and could be in motion in the next five minutes.”
BugWorks was between Washington and the four ships. There was only one order Andrew could give, even if it ripped the bottom of his stomach to give it.
“Calypso, bring us up around BugWorks. Clear a line of fire on Canber
ra and London,” he ordered. “Arendse, Martin—prep a missile salvo on whichever is further along.”
As the ship swung around, he hit a key for an all-hands communication.
“All hands, all hands, this is the Captain speaking,” he announced. “It appears that elements of the Militia have been infiltrated by rebels working for Commodore Anderson. They have jammed all wireless communications and appear to be in the process of attempting to steal two of the Capital destroyers.
“Commander Warner was one of them,” Andrew noted grimly. “He killed many of our crewmates.
“Report to your battle stations. We are taking Washington into action.”
He paused, wishing there was something, anything he could say.
“Remember your duty,” he said finally. “Thank you.”
#
“We have movement near BugWorks,” Lamb reported loudly. “Washington has broken free and is maneuvering around the station.”
Jean stepped up next to the tech, studying her screen over her shoulder.
“Broken free, indeed,” the Admiral murmured, studying the spectrographic scan that showed out-gassing from shattered umbilicals. “Do we have any coms with her?”
“Negative, she’s still inside the jamming zone,” Shang replied. “I’ll try and get a com laser on her—no one on the station is responding, but Washington is clearly live.”
“Keep me informed,” Jean ordered. “What’s the status of Salvatore’s people?”
“They’ve finished loading the Chinese contingent,” Lamb told him. “All shuttles will break atmosphere and commence an assault approach to BugWorks Station in just over ninety seconds. Contact in two minutes, forty seconds.”
Jean nodded choppily.
“Remind Salvatore that we need the station and its crew intact,” he said. “Are there any signs of damage to the matter compressors?”
“Negative,” Lamb replied. “I’ve got a couple of the defense constellation platforms close enough to get a clear look. There is no apparent damage anywhere.”
That was a good sign…so far. It left Jean worrying just what Anderson—and he was very certain this was Commodore Anderson’s people—had planned. There was no way the Commodore would leave the station intact behind him.
“Beijing has broken clear as well,” Lamb snapped. “Geneva just commenced startup.” She paused. “Canberra and London are moving.”
“We have a link to Washington!” Shang announced. “Admiral Villeneuve, I have Captain Lougheed for you!”
Jean technically had a specific station in the command center, but he’d spent the crisis floating, watching over people’s shoulders. Now, he made his way back to his desk and looked at the shaded face of Washington’s Chinese-Canadian commanding officer.
“Captain, what’s your status?” he demanded.
“My XO turned on us and tried to disable Washington,” Lougheed said grimly. “I have one shift aboard, barely a skeleton crew, and my proton capacitors are drained. I’m moving to head off Canberra and London.”
“Be advised, Beijing is also in motion and Geneva is powering up,” Jean told him. “Is there any chance Captain Laurent or Captain Sade made it to a ship?”
“I don’t about Sade,” Lougheed admitted. “Sarah was heading for Geneva, but…”
“Without communications, we don’t know,” Jean concluded. “We’ll try and raise everyone, Captain, but I’ll warn you now: any vessel that attempts to leave the area of BugWorks will be fired upon and destroyed.”
“I understand, sir,” Lougheed confirmed. “I hope at least one of those ships is friendly. Canberra or London on their own can take Washington.”
“Watch yourself, Captain,” Jean ordered. “I’d rather blow all four Capitals to hell with the defense constellation than lose a loyal crew. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The channel dropped.
“We still have a telemetry link,” Shang reported. “Maintaining datanet with Washington, coordinating the constellation.”
“Sir,” Lamb said quietly. “I’ve been running the numbers.”
“Yes, PO?”
The rest of the command center’s crew were arriving and slotting into place. Lamb’s CO was probably around somewhere, but Jean had been leaning on these noncoms since the crisis began. Things were moving too quickly to bring someone else up to speed.
“If they’ve got Sword and Buckler fully online and make a run for it, I’m not certain the constellation can destroy them before they’re out of range,” she told him.
“Merde,” Jean cursed. “Make sure Lougheed knows. This might be about to get messy.”
#
Chapter 42
“What do we do, sir?” Arendse asked as Washington looped over BugWorks Station.
All of the ships involved were moving at a glacial speed for their interface drives. Four destroyers were in motion, a third powering up. Communications were still hashed, the jammer messing with everything.
Shuttles were rising from the surface. They’d board Ottawa, Andrew’s soon-to-be command, to make sure no one tried to steal her, but they’d be too late for the other ships.
Beijing was probably Captain Sade. Geneva was probably Sarah Laurent. Neither of those was certain, Andrew knew, but he was certain that both London and Canberra had been stolen.
“What’s London and Canberra’s status?” he asked.
“They’re maneuvering under minimal interface drive,” she reported. “Shields are down, but heat signatures suggest the Sword system is online.”
“They haven’t deployed shields or their Buckler drones,” he noted. “Trying to stay sneaky.”
The raiders had already lost that game, but keeping everyone guessing was to the bastards’ advantage.
Andrew could com them, order them to stand down…but that would let them get their shields online. At this range, even the laser defenses wouldn’t stop his missiles, but the Capital destroyers’ shields and armor would.
There was no one else to make the decision, and Andrew leaned back in his chair as he made it.
“Target London and open fire as soon as we clear the station,” he told Arendse quietly. “Maximum rate of fire until she comes apart.”
Without beams, he couldn’t disable her. All he could do was destroy two of Earth’s most advanced warships…and hope the other two ships in the vicinity were friends.
Washington trembled, an almost imperceptible shiver as she opened fire. At a range of less than five kilometers, her interface missiles spent more time clearing her launchers than reaching their target.
London lurched under Andrew’s fire, the missiles hammering along her length, smashing into the compressed-matter-laced plating that rendered the destroyer vastly harder to kill than any Imperial craft.
There was a flicker of energy as the destroyer’s crew tried to bring her shields up from standby, then Washington’s second salvo hit home. Andrew nodded approvingly as he realized that Arendse had clearly brought up the Capital’s design schematics to plan her fire: the Sword turrets had been wiped away in the first salvo, and her second had hammered into the weld-lines between London’s compressed-matter plating.
Those spots weren’t much weaker than the rest of the hull, but they were weaker. Without shields, under point-blank fire, it was enough. London came apart before her shields fully materialized.
And Andrew Lougheed had destroyed twenty percent of the Duchy of Terra’s modern warships.
“Canberra’s shields have come up and she’s gone to maximum interface drive,” Arendse reported. “Opening the distance at point five cee!”
“Take us after her, PO Calypso,” Andrew ordered. “Arendse, sustain fire on her. The defense constellation will be engaging her shortly.”
“Sir!” Martin interrupted. “The jamming is down; we’re being hailed from the station.”
Andrew flipped his screen up and was somehow unsurprised to see Amanda Camber’s face looking at him out of
the screen. He recognized the Guard Major standing with her.
“This is a general transmission to all ships near BugWorks Station,” Camber announced. “We have disabled the jammer aboard the platform, but we have located multiple thermonuclear weapons set to destroy the station.
“The Guard is attempting to disarm the weapons, but we are calling for evacuation assistance from any nearby vessel.” She paused. “We do not know the detonation timeline, but we are looking at multiple one-hundred-megaton warheads.
“I repeat, we are requesting evacuation assistance ASAP.”
#
“We have telemetry with Geneva, Washington and Beijing,” Shang announced a moment after the transmission from BugWorks ended. “Linked in to Major Salvatore’s assault as well.”
“Who’s in charge on Geneva and Beijing?” Jean demanded immediately.
“Captains Laurent and Sade, sir. Both are with us.”
“Any coms from Canberra?”
“Negative, she is running.”
“General alert to the defense constellation,” Jean said loudly. “Canberra is to be labeled hostile and engaged immediately.”
Missile traces started to show on the holotank before he’d finished the order, first from Washington, then from the other defense platforms and satellites.
The older, less-efficient missiles the A!Tol Imperium had sold the Duchy only had a point two cee edge over Canberra. They wouldn’t be in useful range for long—the defense constellation was designed to stop ships attacking Earth, not fleeing.
“Get me Laurent and Sade,” he ordered a moment later, waiting for a moment as the two women popped onto his screen. “Status report, Captains.”
“Geneva is riddled with bombs,” Laurent snapped. “We started booting her before we realized she was wired to blow. I think we’ve headed off the immediate detonation, but we’re disarming and she isn’t going anywhere.
“I suggest you get a team aboard Ottawa ASAP, or we might find ourselves short another destroyer.”
Duchess of Terra (Duchy of Terra Book 2) Page 28