Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  Jordahk was beginning to understand their function, but was struggling to bring forth even this first level, base manifestation.

  “We're out of time,” Max said. “Entering firing range.”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  The ship was changing beneath Solia's feet. Systems were moving and activating. So many elements she thought fixed, were actually fluid. She knew Jordahk was doing something, and felt in her heart that it was too much for him.

  Jhapa shook his head. “Foolish headstrong boy! Come on, girlie. I've grown too fond of you to let you get swirled away.” He dashed forward with speed beguiling his girth and years. “You're safest with me.”

  She raced behind him to a reinforced hatch she could have sworn was not there before.

  “Whats happening?”

  “Your boyfriend's pushing too hard... again.”

  “He's not my—”

  The chamber brightened with circular patterns of symbols when Jhapa touched a gold panel. They began highlighting in a way that brought order to their chaos. Then the hatch layers pulled open. Inside was another starkeel room, but the keel ran perpendicular to the ship.

  The room, the systems... there was so much platinum group metal here. She had become knowledgeable enough about relic hunting to know that Jordahk would love to see this. And another reactor. It was different, even boggling. Spherical, with two rings rotating on opposite axes around it.

  Jhapa looked beyond the bulkheads, seeing something she couldn't. “We're out of time.”

  He swept a dramatic hand across the strange starkeel. Strips of symbols wrapped around its length. The ship lurched beneath her feet.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Mason waited for the end. The Krayctian cruiser that had taken so much heat for him was at last falling out of formation, crippled.

  He grimaced. “Why? Brave, and unnecessary...”

  The Svals didn't bother finishing it off before turning their guns on him. They probably wanted to capture the unusual ship for their fleet. He doubted that was the case for his light cruiser. It shook with a violence that only occurred at the end. The displays flutzed.

  An unfounded hope came to him. A ridiculous one, but he indulged it in his last minute. The Truxton was finished. When he got out of this he was going to ask for a full cruiser. No, better yet, a deploy cruiser. That would be platinum grade.

  Yeah...

  He smiled. Then the displays showed something unexpected.

  “Sir!” the data rider said. “Something that shows big on the detensor is coming right at us.”

  “Something? What is it?” Their displays were failing.

  “I thought it was the Hesperus,” the tac officer said. “Now I'm not sure what it is, but it's distorting space like I've never seen.”

  “I've got a visual,” the data rider said.

  Something approached from behind the 'Decimals, who were being pelted by Sval frigates. The plan to capture a Sval destroyer succeeded in giving them a clean shot at a Sval Thunar, even if the capture itself looked doomed.

  The moving distortion in space, with perhaps a ship at its center, suddenly flared super-bright, obscuring anything underneath. A purple bordered VAD popped up in front of him. The Sojourner protocol communication did not surprise him this time.

  It transmitted only a silhouette and a gruff voice. “Hold steady a little longer.”

  “Are you... What happened to that kid?”

  “He's real busy. Hold your course. Hesperus Aurora out.”

  The VAD winked away. In space, the bright shape resembled a giant bird. A falcon, Mason determined, by appearance and the old stories. The forms Sojourner tech took were colorful indeed. It careened past the 'Decimals and plowed one extended wing into the lead Sval frigate. A violent explosion erupted at the impact, fully consuming both ships. But the falcon shape emerged from the explosion, flickering unevenly, offering glimpses of the ship underneath. It swerved toward the next sval frigate, but this time only brushed its wing along the hull.

  The Sval's shield controllers blew along that entire side. Shield plasma erupted into space, propelled by chaining explosions. The falcon passed, leaving the frigate's hull gashed its entire length. A second set of detonations ripped across the gash and the frigate dropped out of pursuit, systems sputtering.

  The remaining two pursuing frigates veered off hard. The falcon soared between them, causing the shields of the next closest pursuer to fail on one side. The fourth, already damaged from the squadron battle, turned away with all due haste.

  “It's coming right at us,” the tac officer said.

  “It's coming at them first,” Mason said. “Hold steady! Prepare the group to come about and bring all remaining weapons to bear.”

  Now if they could only bear the pounding a few more seconds.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Hitting that frigate was like running full speed into a wall. It almost knocked him out. He pushed back blackness at the edges of his vision. In the last few seconds of his approach the paths to the wings opened fully, allowing him to pour energy into them. It made the deeper penetration approach possible. Although maybe it wasn't a good idea.

  “You're not ready to be ramming ships, boy!” Jhapa chided from below decks. “I'm not your permanent crew to indulge your every combat whim.”

  Obviously Jhapa had helped, for Jordahk couldn't open those paths that wide himself. But his mind was too occupied to understand more, and the wings were pulling him apart, right down the center. He didn't want to risk Solia's life, but he couldn't stand by and watch his friends and family die either. He turned the Aurora toward the cruisers bearing down on Mason.

  The Aurora was in desperate need of stop-gap repairs, and he couldn't keep manifesting the falcon. He knew if he wanted to live to fight another day he needed to heed the reprimand of that kooky imprimatur. The cruiser started firing at them. The dimensional sheering, forming wings and protruding beyond the bow, acted as a shield of sorts. Incoming T-beams refracted away and rocks shattered. Well, most of them. The ship shook from partial impacts.

  “We're only going to get one pass,” Max said.

  “You're nuts!” Zoraida said.

  She went to get out of her seat, but the auto-restraints held her fast.

  “Please stay seated for your own safety,” Aurora said.

  Jordahk pushed the thrusters hard, increasing speed as he skimmed the white-striped Sval cruiser. A line of shield controllers down its side blew, and two heavy weapons emplacements exploded on its massive surface. But the ship held its course.

  “It's not good enough,” Jordahk said through gritted teeth, “Sval Thunars are too tough.” The three-striper was close to Mason's ship. It cleared the Krayctian cruiser and opened fire. “No. No!”

  He would not lose another compatriot when he had the power to stop it. He. Would. Not.

  The heat of that passion filled his body. He pushed it out through the control stalks and the manifested wings of the falcon flared bright. He steered closer to the three-striper and the wingtip made contact. The bridge filled with a complex sheering noise. It reminded him of when that DAWG was blasted on Adams Rush and the mountain behind it was hit. But the volume was deafening, and he couldn't release to cover his ears.

  “I can't stop it,” Max said.

  “It's a dimensionally generated vibration,” Aurora said. “It can't be nulled like ordinary sound.”

  The experience was excruciating, and Aurora's systems flashed red. His left arm felt like it was being ground down by some industrial reducer. But he also felt the satisfaction of the cruiser's granix hull ripping open. The sensations warred as the pain increased.

  How long is this ship?

  Finally he cried out.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  From the private correspondence of:

  Decimus, Acting Field Commander,

  Neumanus Vexillation, 206/2413

  Janus my son,

  After establishing a beachhead in the Neuma
nus system, I hoped the most bitter battles were behind us, but I was wrong. We launched numerous offenses from our fortified station, but our progress inward was thwarted time and again. However each foray depleted the resources of these so-called Freespacers, and our penetration was greater. And with our repair facilities now in-system, the tide has turned against them and it is only a matter of time before our victory is complete.

  Our deepest push, from which we will not retreat, has reached Neumanus's hill bottom. Our discipline serves us well, and we have organized numbers. As a contrast, the Neumanus ArgoNav has fought these last battles alone, with no help from other starmadas. I thought honor meant more to these Freespacers. Even so, our Field Commander's bravery outpaced our ability. He led the charge to our current position and lost his life when his battleship was destroyed.

  I have been named Acting Field Commander, and I think I will remain in that position for some time. I understand that most officers who could be appointed have declined the invitation to be dropped into our hottest battle zone. I agree it is not the place for those less familiar with the local particulars.

  For example, a convoy escaping Neumanus with materiel we seek was recently intercepted. They were about to surrender when the Mad Sailor reappeared with his peculiar sailing ship. Standing on its deck was one of their mysterious high ones. He supposedly helped the natives escape by disabling one of our ships with a bow and arrow. As ludicrous as it sounds, the records do seem to bear out something along those lines. I wonder if these high ones are even human, or human any more. But one cannot deny the physics of the impossible when there are those who can do the impossible.

  Fortunately I have received commship word of our final trump card's imminent arrival. This campaign will end as it was destined to from its inception. Only the timeline was ever in question.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “Sojourners!” Janus exclaimed. “Draxy, drakkin' Sojourners!”

  He took a deep breath to compose himself. Any on the flag bridge within earshot had the good sense to look away. He glanced out of habit to where Sybaris used to sit and demean such outbursts in dry fashion. Leisal caught his glance and offered a bubbly smile.

  Yeech.

  He couldn't stand that insipid personality.

  The hated Sojourners, since their inception, had been a plague upon his family. But he survived to see their extinction from civilization, and he would be spaced before he allowed their return to power.

  He reigned in his anger. The turn of events had him fuming. Especially a turn spurred by a single ship. Just because the Trade Union lost a few fighters to that blasted wrecking machine was no reason to be so squeamish about seizing the Jetty.

  Dysig has control of the place. It won't shoot back!

  Nor could the galleons launch. And even if possible, they wouldn't if the Jetty were surrounded. But the Trade Union refused to advance any faster than absolutely necessary. Battles were won by the decisive. They were too busy protecting their radiated museum pieces, letting the fighters do all the work.

  Lawyers make poor soldiers. Move in you dolts!

  Damn Vizier and his Consortium imps. They were one of the few players in this he couldn't push with full strength.

  “Distance to Jetty.”

  The ship AI highlighted the information as he paced before the command chair VADs. He glanced at the ship cannon status readouts.

  “Charged to eighty percent and holding,” the ship AI offered.

  “Take it up to ninety.”

  Charging beyond 80% took tremendous energy. It switched the ship out of combat mode and dedicated it to the Artemis systems.

  Gimmelstau's face appeared. “Target, Prime Orator?”

  “See if you can arrange this little trap.”

  Janus sketched out his idea and let the experienced captain run with it.

  “The Svalbergen squadron is retreating!” an officer said.

  Janus muffled a curse even though the cold, Operis Apparaticum android was long gone. He couldn't blame the brutes. They'd taken it on their oversized chins far harder than the Trade Union. That bane of a Sojourner ship was finally moving away from them. It looked half-dead and spent. Such displays of power came with a price.

  The Svals disorganization was unusual. It must have been quite the ordeal. He jumped into the Perigeum tactical channel.

  “—Hesperus has withdrawn from engaging the Svals.”

  “Engaging? Looked more like scrapping.”

  “The Svalbergen flagship is damaged. Squadron power has dropped below effective level.”

  “The Asterfraeo squadron looks more wrecked, but they're trying to reform and counterattack the Svals while their in disarray.”

  “Their javelin's still in decent shape.”

  Janus highlighted the Sval three-stripe Thunar. It was gushing sideways from a gash along its length. Opposing thrust rings tried in vain to compensate. It launched only a few boats for a large ship. Perhaps that was the culture fostered by the Blacksea Corporation. Go down with your ship. Or perhaps more accurately, don't let your ship go down.

  The AI judged it borderline salvageable, but the Asterfraeo squadron's javelin was moving in on it.

  “Leisal, Svalbergen losses.”

  The android stepped over. “One destroyed Thunar, one out of control—” A sudden explosion engulfed the gashed cruiser. “Correction, one scuttled Thunar.”

  “Not surprising. They don't want their secret getting out. But it looks like the grimes snagged one of their destroyers anyway.”

  “Yes, and one frigate destroyed, two damaged and retreating from those unusual Hexadecimal cloud frigates.”

  Janus daubed at the betraying wrinkles around his eyes. “The Svals got more than they bargained for, but they did pirate a galleon. And they decimated half of the Banking Confederation's stooges.”

  “The Asterfraeo's lead squadron is making another run,” an officer's voice was repeated at his station by the AI.

  “This grime commander is really starting to annoy me.”

  “They're making passes because we're not stopping to engage,” Gimmelstau said. “But if we let them move in front, I might be able to swing your idea.”

  “I don't want to lose any more ships to these dregs, captain.”

  “Their latest passes have focused on the First Cruiser. Damage is accumulating, but we're still fully operational.”

  “Because of the Aegis destroyers I procured.”

  “Yes. But they're losing plates.”

  Leisal spoke up. “Aegis effectiveness down to fifty-two percent.”

  A private indicator lit. Heavy traffic was flowing from Dysig's lab. Janus muted the captain and enclosed himself and the android in privacy mode. The Bitsmith's face appeared, looking more alive than Janus had ever seen it. The man's pallor actually had color.

  “I'm being actively countered by someone half-decent!” Dysig exclaimed without prompting. He was positively beaming.

  “That's not good news. What's wrong with you?”

  “Well... It's just that it happens so rarely. I've gone to direct control.”

  Janus looked at the bitsmith askance. “Are you toying with your opponent? This isn't some dustball thresh with a low-orbit Octal.” He noticed Leisal looking intently over his shoulder. He shooed her back with a wave. “This is for keeps you sophomoric link-head.”

  Dysig finally exhibited sense enough to grasp the bigger picture. “I understand. I've just brought the fullness of my power down upon him. He's as good as finished.”

  “Keep the Jetty's guns down and the galleons penned.” An indicator from Gimmelstau beckoned. “Or I might be inclined to send you over there personally—without a suit. Out.” He opened the captain's comm. “What?” he snapped.

  “AI estimates a decent-probability window in one minute. You want to try for it?”

  The ship's schematic indicated hits coming in from the Asterfraeo squadron's pass. The port hull's aft thrust ring was hit hard, and ev
en the main thrusters took damage.

  “Both Aegis now below fifty percent efficiency,” Leisal said.

  Janus flicked her back again. “Who's the aim-point?”

  “The Frulieste Thunar I believe is the Asterfraeo flagship,” Gimmelstau answered.

  “Don't vaporize it if we can help it. I still want prisoners from that one. He grinned. Leisal cocked her head and her eye color began flickering again. Janus curled his lip and pushed her toward the adjutant's chair. “Go do something useful.”

  “Fleet AIs have traded information,” Gimmelstau said. “Looks like the Trade Union will do their part.”

  “Good. Continue the operation. Don't let the Asterfraeo gnats delay things any longer.”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “One of our destroyers is dropping out,” the Verdant's tac officer said.

  “Which one?” Arceneaux asked.

  “Utica Cyr's Vigorous.”

  Kord watched the exchange though a bridge hazy with smoke. The Verdant wasn't much better off than the hapless Vigorous on the schematic display. At least the destroyer was falling away from the P-stars. But they still might take pot shots at it.

  “Move the Autumnal down to cover until it's clear,” The captain looked up at him. “We've slowed their headlong approach to the Jetty, but we don't have much to show for it.”

  “We have hope, captain.”

  “Well I hope you have another idea, because any one of our ships can be next with even non-focused fire.”

  Their repertoire was strong enough to withstand Arceneaux's understandable frustration. The last run had taken a lot out of Alpha Squadron. And Kord couldn't put a finger on any particular thing in which to have hope. Poor Jordahk and the Aurora had wrecked the Svals and saved Mason's life along with many others in Beta Squadron. But at a price.

  The mystic corvette drifted, but was whole. He had hope that Jordahk and the Hesperus would survive, but not that they would create another miraculous intervention.