“My mother gave birth to me on Reymeyk, and there was no wandering around the outlands or a miraculous rescue for me. My childhood was spent in hiding, with a thirst for revenge, fed with my mother’s milk, who was taken away from me.”
Tera shook her head. “Wake up!” She looked around at everyone who was in the control room. “Come to your senses, we’re about to do battle with the dreaded Enemy, and you are stabbing me in the back like cowards! Don’t you understand what will happen? You will destroy the fleet. You will destroy the entire kingdom! Do you think you will be forgiven for that?”
Estelle laughed. “It is your fleet you scumbag, and it is your kingdom! You’re too stupid to realize that everyone who stands beside me are Reymeyks too.” She smiled wryly and coming very close to Tera, she hissed. “It wasn’t too much of a struggle to fool or buy your judges to make them close their eyes to the fact that the Reymeyks had changed their passports. After that, making them officers of the fleet and transferring them close to me on your flagship was simple.” Estelle stared into Tera’s eyes and laughed again. “You still do not understand anything! If your fleet is destroyed, Reymeyk will be free!”
The flagship captain swung her arm and slapped Tera across the face. Tera lunged forward, but the officers surrounding her acted together, and she fell to the deck groaning, clutching a wound on her leg.
Umarka fought violently against the hands of the Space Marines, but her muscles were not able to overcome the artificial muscles of their exoskeletons. The flagship captain looked on the scene contentedly. When Umarka, panting heavily, again hung in her captors’ hands, Estelle turned, nodded in satisfaction, and walked at a leisurely pace to the command console.
“Drag them to the wall! Everyone except the man in the corner—he still has to do his share of the work.” The word ‘man’ sounded like a curse on her lips.
The disarmed captives were forced by blades to their knees against the wall, with their hands above their heads. Using a few keystrokes, the flagship Captain launched a program and turned to them with a cunning smile. “Attention, ladies. Now you will see something interesting.”
Tera’s face appeared on the screen. If Yv had not been a witness to the events in the control room, he would have sworn that he was looking at an image of the flagship’s control room, in which everyone was hard at work. Tera busily turned her face, and her familiar voice was broadcast throughout the kingdom.
“Attention, there has been an urgent change to the plan of attack. We have received fresh information from the dons’ scout ships. Command and control centers on all ships prepare to reboot.”
A moan was heard from the wall, where the captives were being held. The flagship captain threw them a vindictive look and pressed the keys again. Suddenly, the screen flickered, the picture floated and disappeared. A second later the screen displayed an image of what was really happening in the control room. Everyone’s eyes widened in puzzlement and the flagship captain screamed madly. “Adam be damned! What’s going on?”
She heard her own cry from the screen, and hurriedly turned off the image. Yv grinned. Console Head’s and Hardball Fatlips’ work was even better than he could have expected. The most difficult part was to isolate the virus only in one particular program without destroying a substantial portion of the memory array of the fleet’s command and control systems.
So, he and Hardball Fatlips had created a single killer virus, equipped with a variety of fuses. It could work only if the program was simultaneously downloaded by no less than three hundred and fifty control systems. Once the download was stopped the virus would be wiped out.
Now the virus was working not only as a program of attack, but also on the computer image that the flagship captain had uploaded from her crystal-decoder to the ships of both squadrons. When everything was going so smoothly, it was no wonder he could believe in his own luck. Estelle looked around dumbfounded. Her eyes fell upon Yv’s grinning face and she cried out. “You!”
At that moment, Yv switched to high-speed mode and leaped forward.
When he stopped at the door and turned to jump back to normal time, the entire control room was filled with the writhing stumps of human bodies. Against the walls lay stilled figures in combat suits. Not all were dead - some were just under the influence of horse-sized anti-shock doses of drugs injected into the bloodstream by the medical contours of their combat suits. The flagship captain lay in her command chair, looking vacantly at the stumps where her right arm and right leg used to be.
Sandra’s weary voice came from the wall, along which the captives were lined up. “So, do you still believe, my dear that I deceived the officers there at the palace, when I told them that he wiped out the baron and her entire gang single-handedly?”
The flagship captain turned her pale face to her.
“But that’s impossible ... There was a squad of dons lay in ambush. I saw the report of the guard’s investigation team.”
Sandra stood up with a groan, straightening her stiff legs. “That was a fake.”
She walked over to the console and opened up the main screen, which was immediately filled with dozens of anxious faces. A cacophony of worried voices poured out from the speakers. Sandra winced, then snapped irritably. “Everybody shut up! Attention, I have a message for the entire squadron! There has been a mutiny on the flagship by Reymeyks. The plan of attack must be deleted. Cancel the attacks and return to position.”
There was silence for a moment, then Don Krushinka’s calm voice was heard.
“It’s too late. Weapons contact was made two minutes ago. We are expecting a squadron of around seven hundred pennants face on.”
An anxious stream of questions blew out from the speakers. Sandra stood for a second, thinking hard, then abruptly shut off the control and turned to Yv.
“Well, how long are you just going to stand there like a pillar? Open a closed communication between my Whiskered One and me and do it fast!”
Yv jumped to the console, and a second later the big screen showed only Don Krushinka’s face. Sandra looked at him closely and smiled.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a backup plan”
“No harm in having an extra plan.” Don Krushinka grinned.
They were silent, looking at each other, then in a trembling voice the don asked, “How are you?”
Sandra swallowed.
“It could be worse. Your guy is great. I counted upon him and I wasn’t disappointed.”
Everybody in the room stared at them dumbfounded. The two spoke to each other as if the forward ships had not yet engaged The Enemy ships, but Sandra was stood on a bloodstained deck surrounded by corpses and those who were dying.
“OK, my Whiskered One, you win, go ahead,” The admiral sighed, and abruptly switched the screen to broad mode and barked over the air. “Attention, I urgently need to introduce a new plan of battle. The flagship will be under a yellow flag, until the flagship is prepared for operational duties. Until then, command is passed to the Unpleasant Surprise. Send any requests for confirmation but prepare for control systems download.” She hesitated for a few minutes, then turned to the liaison officer, who had quietly taken his place. “How many requests?”
“Not one.”
Sandra nodded.
“Well, the battle has started, and Eve our Savior help us, we will not get another chance.” She turned to Yv, chuckled, and said. “You really are lucky aren’t you. Well, what at you doing standing there? Go help Tera!”
4
The fleets were rushing toward each other. The combined fleet of the kingdom, plus the noble dons, feverishly rebuilt themselves into a new order of battle.
Before them, at a distance of twenty minutes flight away the battle was already in full swing. The advanced ships were exchanging volleys with their onboard weapons batteries, engaged in a hot embrace of boarding, but the most important thing was yet to come.
More than a thousand ships were racing towards each other, burni
ng with impatience to grab the opponent’s throat and spit it out like a monstrous vampire, ready to infect them with the horrific viruses of boarding teams, to later suck all the life from the convulsing Enemy.
Don Krushinka sat, gripping the arms of the command chair, and in a low voice he counted down the seconds, even though he knew it was a stupid idea. What was the difference in how many seconds the fleet had to readjust to the new order of battle?
Also, if he really wanted to keep track of the time it was much easier to use a simple function on the command console and use an electronic stopwatch.
However, Don Krushinka kept muttering numbers.
It had been less than half an hour since the main forces had made contact, and the rebuilding was still ongoing. The order of battle, which the combined fleet was now adapting to, was contrary to all regulations and instructions. From time immemorial, a battle group was tied to maneuverable groups of lightweight frigates, which attempted to break up and divide the order of The Enemy’s squadrons and put them under the firepower of the ships that constituted the main force of the fleet.
Now, Don Krushinka was putting forward the most powerful ships that he had—the kingdom’s battleships and heavy cruisers. The noble dons’ ships took refuge behind their powerful force fields for protection. However, everything needed to look normal to The Enemy, so the ships of the kingdom squeezed their reflection fields almost to their hulls, trying to pretend that the frigates and corvettes, and the ships of the noble dons were battleships.
Of course, all this camouflage would fall apart at the first salvo - because the force field required several orders of magnitude more power, and as soon as the external field boundaries deflected the first shots, the moment of truth would come. The force fields would outline the configuration of the hull, immediately displaying the class of ships hiding behind them. But by then it would be too late for The Enemy to change their battle formation.
The battle would turn into a multisided duel of tangled and grappled ships, which would initially be of benefit for those who fired the first volley and had the best battle formation. Theoretically, the skill of the fleet commander would be in pulling out the ships of the combined fleet where they had a distinct advantage and using the extra ships to hastily form assault teams then throw them to assist where luck was turning its back on them.
If, in the absence of serious mistakes, the fleet could quickly destroy The Enemy ships and lose fewer of its own, then eventually it would lead to victory. But in this situation, Don Krushinka would lose the lion’s share of the fleet and the assault on Outpost could be abandoned - and in fact, this was the main objective of the battle. He had to find another way, but so far all he could do was wait—wait until the point when the chance occurred for one of the tricks that the dons had always been famous for.
Don Krushinka gasped and stopped counting. Changing the order of battle was complete. He glanced at the side of the screen and yelled.
“Squadron. Countdown to contact.”
The speaker immediately responded.
“Old Fart. twenty minutes.”
“Two Pints. Not more than fifteen.”
“Seven Feet. Twenty-two minutes.”
“Um ... Admiral Shantorin. Thirty minutes.”
“Admiral Germain. Forty minutes.”
“A Crowd of Vagrants. Seventeen minutes.”
The last report was from Sad Drifter, who the dons that had joined Don Krushinka’s squadron in the hope of the law of ‘living prize’, had elected their commander.
Don Krushinka winced.
He had been forced to put admirals from the kingdom in charge of both squadrons, to limit the stress as much as possible in a whole fleet that had been put together in such a short time. According to the plan developed by the main headquarters of the kingdom, the squadron was to attack the enemy fleet, then attack Outpost under two separate commands—although, of course, the commander would with great pleasure have put any of his veterans at the head of these units.
All the officers of the fleet, ranging from admiral and ending with the last lieutenant, had received sufficient information about the structure of the squadrons, subordination, tactics, internal structure, and the characteristics of the formation of the teams of The Enemy ships.
However, firstly, there is no substitute for experience, and secondly ... there was still a lot of ‘Thirdly’, ‘Fourthly’, ‘Fifthly’ and so on, and, in the end, no matter which admiral he would be happy to see in charge of the squadrons, that he himself could trust ...
Don Krushinka pondered for a few moments, then resignedly waved his hand, and switched to a full-duplex communication channel with both admirals. When the serious faces of the ladies commanding the fleets, the admirals, appeared, Don Krushinka put an expression of total trust on his face, and with the greatest possible courtesy rumbled on.
“Excuse me, ladies.” He paused, choosing his words, but then dropped the Chinese ceremony and decided to go ahead. “Forgive my importunity, but still you have to understand me. For you, this is the first battle with this particular Enemy.” He paused in anticipation of the reaction from the women.
Admiral Germain looked at the noble don and nodded silently, and Shantorin slightly lifted her chin. Don Krushinka smirked to himself inwardly. Shantorin was going to be the difficult one. Even if he practiced chivalry and bent over backwards, she still wouldn’t buy it!
“I just meant that there are guys close to you, who once led fleets into battle that were not much smaller than ours, so if something happens to you do not be ashamed to ask them for good advice,” explained Don Krushinka.
These words acted on Shantorin like a freshly eaten lemon.
“Thank you for your concern, Admiral, but I hope to cope on my own,” she said coldly then disappeared from the screen.
Don Krushinka looked at Admiral Germain without much hope, who, as he expected, did not deign to answer. When the silence was somewhat delayed, she grinned from the corners of her lips and said. “I understand that you are trying to give us a chaperone. I, of course, am also vain, but in your place, I would have done exactly the same thing.” The admiral paused for effect. “So, who will be my advisor?”
“I would recommend Greasy Head,” replied Don Krushinka.
Admiral Germain glanced to the side of the screen.
“On the frigate ‘Trebuchet’?”
Don Krushinka nodded. The admiral stared at him, then smiled again and also disappeared from the screen. At that moment, Two Pints appeared on the central display. He looked cheerfully at Don Krushinka and barked out happily. “I am ready to go.”
The flagship control room had been washed down, the dead and wounded were taken away, and a team of repairwomen hastily repaired the damaged chairs at the consoles.
Sandra strolled around irritably beside the command chair, scowling at the pale, but indomitable Tera, who was sitting beside her. Her thigh was covered in medical skin repair. Yv stayed next to his console and chastely averted his eyes from Tera’s naked feet.
On the main screen, and on the holocube, tangles of light slowly flashed sparks of weapons fire. The flagship still remained out of the battle. The rebellion had cost the lives of seven senior officers of the battleship; forty people were detained in solitary confinement or in medical facilities.
Although most of them were from the boarding party, several officers from the control room were among them, including the flagship captain herself.
Sandra stopped abruptly and turned on her heels.
“Hey, Lucky!”
He raised his eyes to her, and Sandra looked back at him closely.
“Let me tell you something. I can assume command of this ship without a problem, but I am missing at least another three specialists ...” She grinned. “Unless, of course, we are not counting yesterday’s cadets from the fleet’s academy, which have traditionally formed a backup on the flagship.” Sandra winced. “In any case, on one console I need a real expert.” Sh
e nodded toward the fire control console emphatically. “Can you manage that?”
Yv hesitated for a moment, but the situation was too desperate for him to be able to stop for any moral considerations or his own indecision. He nodded.
“Well, what in Damn Adam’s name are you still doing there?” Sandra barked in a more cheerful voice.
Yv chuckled and walked to the console, muttering on the way. “You and Don Krushinka are becoming awfully alike.”
Sandra’s puzzled eyes opened wide, then she threw her head back and laughed. A second later, her booming laughter was joined by Tera’s thin laughter, and soon everyone in the control room was laughing. When, after a while, the laughter died down, everyone felt greatly relieved.
The burst of amusement seemed to completely rid the tension from the control room. All that remained was enthusiasm for the fight ahead, mixed with some apprehension, which was quite understandable, after all, this battle would decide the fate of the kingdom.
When all the newly appointed officers had taken their places, Sandra sat in the command chair, and made contact with Don Krushinka. He twitched nervously when images of the control room in the flagship came on screen, then looked around at their watchful eyes and noticing Yv at the weapons control console, he grinned.
“Ready to transfer command.”
“Can’t you just shut up?” Sandra muttered in fun. “What are you thinking of transferring command in the middle of a battle. Better that you should tell us what we should do. After all, we have six batteries of orbital mortars.”
“While holding the rear,” said Don Krushinka more seriously, and noticing how Sandra and Tera’s eyes flashed he added hastily. “I still do not see that monster ship anywhere around that our scout ships bumped into. Seems to me it is preparing some kind of deception, and I want to have an ace card up my sleeve.”
Sandra looked searchingly into his eyes, then turned to Tera. She slowly nodded. It was well worth holding their ship back, regardless of whether what he said was true. On the other hand, Sandra remembered that Tera was on board the battleship, and it was an extra argument to believe in what her Whiskered One was saying.
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