Sagitta

by C M Benamati

  This was the most dangerous part. Mog had gone over the parameters for an in-system hyperspace jump a hundred times, and it still made him nervous. If the Narma Kull were a civilian ship with a conventional hyperdrive, he would never attempt this, but the navy had developed a tactical drive that could compensate for close-proximity gravity wells such as planets and asteroids. At least, it could in theory.

  “Ja’tar,” said Mog. “Signal the three frigates to form up on our flank, thrusters only. Once we’re in position, coordinate the tactical jump. The Narma Kull will paint the first target. Have them concentrate all weapons on our mark.” Kremp, those orbital guns had better work. Literally, this is going to be trial by fire.

  “Yes sir,” said Ja’tar, with a slight tremor in his voice. A moment later, he said, “Escorts in battle formation. Meela’s helm is linked.”

  Mog bowed his head, listening to the gentle beeping of the bridge. This might be the last quiet moment of his life.

  “Do it,” he said. “Full power, maximum shields. Jump!”

  There was a deep throb of power, and the view on the forward screen morphed into a kaleidoscope of color.

  “Ten seconds to Sledgim,” said Meela.

  Mog held his breath. He couldn’t shake the thought that this was all in vain. The Ta’Krell were forming a sphere. Why not a concentrated attack formation? They must have some advantage he hadn’t counted on. What was it? The Narma Kull had her own surprise. He could only hope that the new PPC cannons were enough to offset whatever the Ta’Krell were planning.

  “They’ve seen us,” said Nali. The nearest three ships are adjusting course.”

  “Good, that will take some pressure off Ruba.”

  “Dropping out of hyperspace now,” said Meela.

  With a mild tremble, the dancing colors on the viewscreen disappeared. Mog could just see the small dot that was Sledgim on the screen. He exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. A red bracket marked the presence of the nearest Ta’Krell ship.

  “Magnify that ship,” said Mog. The viewscreen zoomed in. When it focused, it showed a light cruiser. Shaped like a fat arrowhead, its annular engine ring emitted a long fusion tail as it burned hard to intercept the Narma Kull.

  Small as they were, the Ta’Krell light cruisers were still a formidable threat. They were faster than any Maurian ship and outgunned even the largest capital ships with their hard-mounted forward cannons. However, they were only lightly armed at the beam and stern. It was too bad that the majority of the Maurian fighter craft had been destroyed. Fighters were ideal for attacking the undefended flanks of such craft.

  “Should I hail them?” said Ja’tar.

  Ryal laughed. “Hail them with fire! Nali, set the PPC cannons to full compression mode and charge the capacitors. Make ready the forward torpedo launchers.”

  “PPC cannons online,” said Nali. “Warhead control confirms torpedo tubes one and two are loaded.”

  There were two blue flashes, and two more Ta’Krell vessels appeared.

  “Looks like we’re forcing them to change formation,” said Nali. “There’s a hole in their sphere.”

  “They want to deal with us quickly,” said Mog. “We’re only four ships. They think this will be easy. Ja’tar, tell the frigates to tighten up and get behind us. Our shields are the strongest, so we’ll take the initial attack. As soon as the Ta’Krell fire on us, give the frigates the go ahead to break formation and target the lead ship.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Ja’Tar’s voice was strained. Mog glanced around, noting the numerous crewmembers from Sledgim’s naval academy. These cadets had never seen combat. When the fires and the flames arrived, would they stay at their stations?

  This is it.

  “Meela, go to full burn.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The gentle rumble from the twin fusion engines became a roar, and Mog felt the push of the acceleration despite the inertial suppressors. He glanced down at the recessed restraining belt in the side of his chair. He dismissed the idea of strapping in.

  “We’re entering weapons range of our heavy guns,” said Nali. “Permission to fire?”

  Mog glanced over at Ryal. “This one’s yours, sub-commander.”

  Ryal puffed out his chest. “Nali, send them to the dark place.”

  The lights on the bridge dimmed as the new weapons soaked up the ship’s power. Mog didn’t dare to blink. Everything hinged on this. A second went by, and then another.

  Nothing happened.

  “Status?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Nali. “Something’s gone wrong. The capacitors are charged but the cannons aren’t firing.”

  Mog tapped the control panel next to his chair. “Kremp where are my guns?”

  “Bolted to the hull,” said the engineer.

  “They’re not working.”

  “Yeah, I’m on it.”

  Mog growled. “Nali, we’re going to have to do this the old way. Charge the plasma cannons.”

  “Without the PPC’s,” whispered Ryal, “they’ve got us on range and firepower.”

  Mog said nothing, lest the dread that had filled him pass into his words.

  “We are entering their weapons range,” said Nali. “Stand ready.”

  Almost immediately after she spoke, the nose of the lead Ta’Krell vessel erupted with a blinding volley of transplasma. The Ta’Krell’s version of the magnetically jacketed, dimensionally unstable plasma had always been particularly disruptive, causing severe spatial distortions as the plasma burned.

  The bridge bucked. Mog gripped the command chair, staring at a wall of green fire that engulfed the bow.

  “Forward shields down to sixty percent,” said Nali. “There’s some damage to the outer armor, but there’s no risk of burn through yet.”

  “Can we fire?” said Mog.

  “We’re still out of range,” said Nali. Another ten seconds.”

  He swore. Why couldn’t the PPC’s have worked? He could see lines of disruption starting to form where the shield grids overlapped.

  “Forward shields failing,” said Nali. “We’ve still five seconds to firing range.”

  “Bridge to engine room,” said Ryal. “More power to the forward shields.”

  “Acknowledged bridge,” said one of Kremp’s team through the bridge speakers. “We’re dumping auxiliary power now.”

  The fatigue ripples in the shields faded. Auxiliary power. Who would have thought? The repair crews at Sledgim had worked wonders. A twinkle of hope returned.

  “Sir,” said Nali with a delighted snarl. “Plasma cannons locked.”

  Mog jumped up and pointed at the lead ship. “Fire all!”

  Five streams of transplasma bolts struck the lead Ta’Krell ship, soon followed by three more streams from the Narma Kull’s supporting frigates. The vessel veered to the side, its forward shields burning with blue fire.

  “We hit em good!” said Ryal. “They’re stumbling!”

  The bridge rocked again as the two flanking Ta’Krell vessels lashed out.

  “Keep the pressure on that ship,” said Mog. “Meela, fly us straight at them. Nali, ready a torpedo.”

  “I have a torpedo lock,” said Nali.

  “Not yet,” said Mog. “Wait for them to turn and hit them broadside on their front port quarter. I don’t want to lose that torpedo to any stray plasma.”

  By now, the three Ta’Krell ships occupied the entire width of the viewscreen.

  “They’re slippery,” said Meela.

  “Stay with them,” snapped Mog. “Nali, secure plasma cannons. Fire torpedo!”

  There was a dull thwump as the port torpedo launcher cast out its deadly payload. A second later, a glistening black warhead accelerated into view, propelled by a fiery red stream from its rocket engine. The Ta’Krell ship pulled up, but it was too late. The torpedo curved upward and, for a brief moment, became indistinguishable against the enemy’s black hull.

  The p
iercing explosion rocked the enemy ship. For a millisecond, the protective bubble in front of the vessel’s bow held off the explosion. But it must have been weakened from the Maurian fleet’s concentrated fire. A massive ripple coursed through the shields from bow to stern, and they flickered out altogether.

  “Fire two!” roared Mog.

  There was another thwump, and a second torpedo made a beeline towards the damaged ship. It hit the unshielded vessel dead on the nose. The impact blew the bow right off. A second later the ship was engulfed in a brilliant flash.

  “Got em!” screamed Nali. “I hope that hurt.”

  Cheers erupted on the bridge.

  “Bring us about,” roared Mog over the din. “Coordinate all fire on the next nearest enemy.”

  They had done it. They had drawn first blood. He sat back in his command chair and pulled up a damage report.

  “Not too bad yet,” he muttered.

  The stars danced across the viewscreen as the Narma Kull turned. One of the tri-hull frigates slipped into view, soon followed by the other two. They were engaged in a heavy firefight with the remaining Ta’Krell ships. The closest frigate was in trouble. Plasma bolts were starting to penetrate its dorsal shields, leaving scorch marks on the hull. Suddenly, three small objects lanced out from the rear of one of the Ta’Krell cruisers. Mog held his breath as they made their way towards the weakened frigate.

  The frigate flipped sideways, and two of the torpedoes overshot it. The third however went straight through the ship’s weakened shields and struck the central engineering section. The section shattered in a fiery explosion. The frigate came apart, sending out scattered debris that broke across the Narma Kull’s bow.

  “There goes the Dunentra,” said Nali.

  Mog stiffened. Commander El was an old friend from his academy days. She was deeply religious. Hopefully her faith had given her some peace in her last moments.

  Ryal cursed as debris bounced off the Narma Kull. “Reload torpedo tubes,” he shouted. “Hit those bastards with everything we have.”

  “Lay in a pursuit course on that vessel,” said Mog. “Keep our nose on them.”

  He glowered at the viewscreen as the tail end of the offending vessel slipped in and out of view. Below the screen, Meela sat bolt upright, her muscles tied in knots beneath her uniform. Mog felt a surge of admiration for his young helmswoman. Dogging a vessel one fifth the size and twice as maneuverable was no easy task.

  It didn’t take long for Meela to get them centered on the Ta’Krell ship. The enemy launched two more torpedoes, this time at the Narma Kull. If it was an attempt to get Meela to dodge, it didn’t work. She stayed true to the course, despite the impressive lurch when the torpedoes exploded in their path, destroyed before they could get in lethal range by Nali’s ace marksmanship.

  “Torpedoes away,” said Nali.

  The mechanical melody of the torpedo launchers sang once more, soon accompanied by the muted twang of the plasma cannons. The volley hit the enemy dead on, breached their rear shields, and shattered their engine substructure. The crippled ship spun to the side, powerless. Another volley of blue plasma tore into its aft section and it exploded, sending molten hull fragments everywhere.

  Mog could hardly believe it. There was only one left! He wondered if Ruba’s battle group was faring as well against the spread-out Ta’Krell forces. He didn’t have time to check up on it.

  “Coming about on the third cruiser,” said Meela.

  The viewscreen flared as Sledgim’s sun came into view, followed by the combatants. The two Maurian frigates had multiple hull breaches. They were trading fire with the remaining Ta’Krell cruiser. The Ta’Krell ship was pinned between the Maurian vessels, and by the looks of things it wouldn’t last much longer. Multiple streams of blue bolts tore into its shields, and a constant barrage of torpedoes rocked it mercilessly.

  “Sir,” said Ja’tar. “The Eleseum and Vorsa Mor report that the Ta’Krell vessel has been disabled. They are holding their fire.”

  “Tell them to form up behind us,” said Mog.

  “Yes sir,” said Ja’tar.

  The two frigates swooped upwards and slipped off screen.

  Mog swiveled around in his chair. “Nali, what’s the status of that ship?”

  “They’re adrift. I can’t scan through their hull, but I don’t think there can be much working inside that thing.”

  “Sir,” said Meela, “if we can board them, take prisoners, then we might finally learn why they did this. We don’t even know what they look like. If we capture them, we could maybe find a weakness.”

  “No,” said Mog. “There’s no time. We must get to the planet and help Ruba.” He paused, contemplating the drifting ship. Even in its disabled state, its presence was offensive. He raised a hand to give the order to fire.

  Murderers. They deserve to die.

  His hand wavered. It would be so easy.

  “Do it,” whispered Ryal in his ear.

  Mog sighed. “No,” he said, lowering his hand. “They’re the murderers, not us. Meela’s right. We’ll come back when we can. Meela, program another tactical jump to the planet and engage.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Five seconds later, the Narma Kull and her two remaining escorts were streaking through hyperspace towards the main battle.

  “Commander,” said Ja’tar. “Mar-Ruba reports that the planetary defense satellites are almost gone. Our forces are concentrated in the defense of the southern hemisphere, but they’ll have to disperse to deal with the Ta’Krell that are entering orbit on the far side of the planet.”

  “Tell him to hold on, we’re almost there,” said Mog. “Nali, tell Kremp that we need those projection cannons.”

  The bridge pitched forward. Mog was dumped out of his chair and only managed to stay on his feet by snagging the command platform railing. A groan sounded from somewhere deep within the ship, and the bridge was plunged into darkness. The red emergency lights flickered on just in time for Mog to see Meela climb back into her seat. Beside him, crumpled over the railing, was one of the new junior boardmen. He must have fallen from the upper deck.

  Mog pulled the boardman off the railing and laid him on the deck. He was still breathing, but his eyes were rolled back and his tongue lolled.

  “Report,” said Ryal.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” said Meela. “The hyperdrive field destabilized.”

  “Confirmed,” said Ryal from the port auxiliary station. “We’re caught in some sort of dimensional web. It’s being projected by the large Ta’Krell vessel and reflected between all the light cruisers surrounding the planet. There is no way to form a stable hyperspace field in this thing.”

  “Nazpah,” spat Ja’tar. “Mar-Ruba reports all hyperdrives are useless.”

  On the viewscreen, Sledgim appeared much larger now. Explosions like miniature flash bulbs dotted the horizon above the planet.

  Mog stiffened. So, this was the Ta’Krell surprise. This small fleet must be an expeditionary force, sent to find and hold any Maurians they encountered at bay until the main fleet could be summoned.

  We never had a chance.

  “Ryal, where is the enemy command ship?”

  “Bearing two-five-seven mark four. I’m putting it on screen, maximum magnification.”

  The viewscreen flickered, and a ship unlike anything Mog had ever seen appeared in the center. He glanced down at his tactical display. The ship was twice as large as a Ta’Krell dreadnaught. Its hull was white, and countless windows indicated the presence of hundreds of decks. The primary section of the ship was an oval, which tapered to a horizontal fin-like tail. A fusion flame burned white-hot from a central engine assembly at the rear.

  “By Ramas’ claws,” said Ryal. “That’s a big ship.”

  Bright white beams lanced out from the underside of the vessel. His heart sank; the target was the Narma Kai, a Vinitavi class vessel, a sister ship to Mog’s own command. The beams pierced right through the
Narma Kai and severed both starboard wings from the hull. A second volley punched through her heart and came out the other side.

  Ryal groaned as the Narma Kai exploded.

  “Meela,” said Mog. “How long will it take us to reach them at sublight?”

  “Twenty minutes at maximum burn. If we overdrove the engines…” Her voice trailed off as she watched the cloud of debris expand, fires guttering out in the vacuum.

  “Transmission coming in from mar-Ruba.” Ja’tar’s voice was scarcely a whisper. “They’re surrendering.”

  We’ve failed. He didn’t know what to say. Words were meaningless. There was only one thing left to do.

  “The transports?” said Meela. “Are they being pursued?”

  Ja’tar checked his console. “That’s a neg. The Ta’Krell are holding position around the planet.”

  “At least some will survive,” said Meela.

  But for how long? Those were big ships, and it would take hours for their hyperspace wakes to dissipate. They could be easily tracked. Mog rose from his chair and walked over to Ryal.

  “We need to take out that ship.”

  Ryal locked eyes with him. “They’d tear us apart.”

  “I know.” He reached out and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Make the necessary preparations to abandon the Narma Kull.”

  Ryal’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to ram them, aren’t you.”

  Mog bowed his head.

  Ryal’s expression was flat. He said nothing for a moment, then tipped an ear. “See you on the other side, by Ramas’ grace.”

  Mog didn’t bother arguing. Gods or no gods, he welcomed death. Let’s see how many of those Ta’Krell bastards I can take with me.

  Chapter 25

  The stars outside the brig’s porthole window had taken on strange colors. Some were red, some blue, depending on where you looked. The ones straight out were white, but elongated into thin threads of light. Liz pulled herself closer. “I’m sure of it,” she said. “It explains everything. This is why everyone on this ship is so uptight.”