Her gaze was level as more Imperial cruisers died. The Laians were ignoring the destroyers, focusing their fire on the Thunderstorms and Stalwarts—and Harvester herself was clearly focusing her projects on Emperor of China.
Then something changed.
One moment, the Laian formation was spread out, the cruisers expanding their formation to provide better missile defense and presumably clear lines of fire for the energy projectors.
The next, six of the remaining cruisers swarmed together in a desperate attempt to stop something Harriet couldn’t see—and then blew apart as a swarm of starfighters the Imperial ships hadn’t seen yet hammered into them on their way to Harvester of Glory.
#
Chapter 36
For a moment, Pat Kurzman simply took relief in the fact that the Laians had stopped shooting at his ships, and then the reality of what he was seeing sunk in. A wave of over five hundred Wendira starfighters swept over Harvester of Glory’s escorts, shattering cruiser after cruiser with point-blank missile fire and devastatingly powerful plasma pulses.
One moment, he’d known his entire fleet was dead. The next, only Harvester of Glory remained of the attacking battle group, and hundreds of starfighters swarmed toward the war-dreadnought. There were seconds to make a decision, maybe less.
It was surprisingly easy. The Laians had killed his people. Threatened his civilians. Fought him, surprised him, condescended to him…
But Pincer of the Republic Kandak had at least talked to him.
The Wendira had done nothing of the sort. They’d simply shown up and started killing everyone.
“Redirect our missiles,” he barked. “Target the Wendira.”
“We’re protecting Harvester?” Captain Fang demanded.
“No, we’re killing the Wendira before they come for us,” Pat replied. “Those starfighters are maneuverable as hell. Kill them now!”
Lightspeed delays meant they couldn’t turn aside every missile, and with the cruisers gone and the plasma-cannon defense drones turned on the starfighters, dozens still slammed into Harvester of Glory. Her shields flickered under the combined pounding and missiles slipped through, cratering her massive armor and breaking off compressed-matter plating.
Then the next salvos leapt to the starfighters. The Imperial missiles weren’t even much faster than the deadly little ships, but they were enough faster. Starfighters that had focused on the war-dreadnought, clearly the only thing they’d registered as a real threat, had missiles slam into them from behind at a relative five percent of lightspeed.
Dozens of starfighters died. Then hundreds.
Then Tanaka’s fleet was there, slipping into proton-beam range of both Harvester of Glory and her attackers—and followed Pat’s example.
The remaining starfighters split apart, their formation shattering into a scattered swarm of dancing fireflies that outpaced Imperial and Laian starships alike.
They left Harvester of Glory behind. Her shields were down. Her engines were damaged and she was gently spinning in space—and both Imperial Fleets were now in proton-beam range of her.
For a moment that seemed to last for eternity, Pat knew he could destroy Kandak’s ship, end the Laian threat to the world he was protecting and avenge his people.
No one in the galaxy would blame him—but Tanaka was following his lead. If his ships fired, Tanaka’s would follow. A war would follow…and the starfighter swarm meant that they’d missed a star hive arriving in system.
“Get me a channel to Pincer Kandak,” he ordered with a sigh.
#
For the first time, there were no delays, no connection issues, and no attempt to ignore Pat Kurzman’s transmission. They were close enough for a live video feed, and Kandak immediately opened one when Emperor of China reached out.
Harvester of Glory’s bridge looked pristine. Untouched by the fire that had hammered the vessel…except that half of the screens behind Pincer of the Republic Kandak were black, and two large holograms that had been present in previous video of him were gone.
Kandak himself no longer stood as straight as he had. The mandibles around his mouth were retracted protectively and his upper clawed hands were held stiffly, as if he didn’t trust them not to tremble.
“Pincer Kandak,” Pat said flatly. “Your shields are disabled. Your interface drive is running at half efficiency. You are under our guns and have no chance of escaping proton-beam or plasma range of Imperial forces.”
He let that sink in. Kandak straightened slightly, attempting to project some defiance, but the scarab beetle–like alien remained silent, refusing to dispute Pat’s assessment of the situation.
“Too many of both of our people have died here today for this bloody stupidity,” Pat continued. “We both know I have the power to destroy your ship, but that I’d lose ships doing it.
“The Imperium does not want a war with the Republic, and for that reason—and that reason alone, Pincer Kandak—I will let my dead lie unavenged.
“Get the fuck out of my star system.”
It was a threat. A demand, backed by the certainty of deadly force…but it was also a mercy and a peace offering, and both he and Kandak knew it.
The Laian officer managed to return to his fully straightened height, a towering edifice of carapace and claws, and slammed his middle right claw into his chest in salute. The middle claws were the Laian limbs most commonly used for delicate manipulation—and much more vulnerable than the armored upper pincers.
“I thank you for the wisdom of your nest,” Kandak said quietly. “I trust your honor, Vice Admiral Pat Kurzman, and I will repay your honor in kind.
“We will withdraw.”
Several long seconds dragged on with the channel still open, and Pat wondered what the alien was thinking.
“We will also provide you with our full files on Wendira combat forces,” Kandak said. “I do not know what strength they have brought here, Admiral, but I would rather that ship remain in your hands than ended in theirs.”
The video cut off, but a flashing icon told Pat that the channel was still open.
“We are receiving a data stream,” Chan announced. “Feeding it into a secure system air-gapped from the rest of the computers.”
“Good.” He was willing, however grudgingly, to let Kandak go. He wasn’t willing to trust the big beetle.
“Is he moving?”
“Yes, sir,” his scanner tech reported. “Heading in the opposite direction to those Wendira starfighters at point one five cee. They kicked the shit out of Harvester, sir.”
A video channel opened on Pat’s command chair from the bridge.
“We could have taken him, sir,” Captain Fang said.
“I know,” Pat agreed. “We might have even done so without casualties…but we don’t want a war with the Laian Republic. All we want is for them to go away, and that mission is done.”
He scanned the displays around him.
“Right now, the Wendira may be the bigger threat,” he concluded. “That fighter launch came from somewhere. Find me that star hive, people.”
#
“Give me something,” Harriet demanded. “Five hundred starfighters don’t just appear from nowhere and disappear!”
“They came in ballistic at about five percent of lightspeed,” Ikil told her grumpily. “They were probably heading for Kurzman’s fleet originally but basically collided with the Laians.”
“So, backtrack them and find me the star hive,” she replied.
“We’re running the files that Kandak sent Kurzman,” Han said. “I…” The young human officer looked at his Indiri commander, who made a “go ahead” gesture.
“I don’t think we’re looking at a star hive yet, Echelon Lord,” he concluded. “First thing I pulled was the starfighter capacity of one of them: it’s listed as four Grand Wings.”
“Which is?” Harriet asked gently.
“Sixteen wings of sixteen starfighters apiece,” Han reeled off immedia
tely. “A star hive carries over a thousand starfighters. We only saw five hundred.”
“And between us and the Laians, we killed three hundred or so of those,” Sier added, the Captain linked in from the bridge. “Not a bad ratio.”
“Not an unusual ratio for starfighter strikes, either,” Harriet told her flag captain. “There’s a reason none of the other Core Powers use them. The Wendira can replace the pilots far more easily than anyone else can.”
She turned back to Han.
“If it’s not a star hive, what are we looking at?”
Ikil gestured for the human officer to take over the display, and a new ship appeared in the hologram. It was similar in design to the star hive, the same stacked concentric circles, but the display marked the scale as being significantly smaller.
“The name for this translates as ‘star intruder’,” Han explained. “The Laians think they’re the largest stealth ship in the Wendira inventory, used as a mother ship for covert operations and stealth ground assaults.”
“Well, that certainly fits with what we’ve been seeing,” Harriet agreed. “And they have five hundred starfighters?”
“No. They each carry a single Grand Wing,” the junior officer explained. “According to the Laians, they’re basically unarmed themselves, but with over two hundred and fifty starfighters, they don’t need guns.”
He paused, mentally rewinding, and sighed.
“I’m reviewing the post-processed data run we did for stealth ships,” he said quietly. “I think we have two star intruders in the system.”
“Pass that on to the team,” Ikil ordered immediately. “You and I need to see if we can follow the remaining fighters and let the Echelon Lord know if we can find the ships.”
That was a good call in Harriet’s opinion, too. Han had picked up the highest probability of what they were facing; his analysis was solid. The NCOs aboard could confirm his analysis with the brute-force data crunching. He and Ikil would be better suited to finding the enemy.
“We know there’s at least one star hive out here, too,” she reminded them. “The Laian files say they have no stealth fields?”
“There’s something in their files about a hyperspatial anomaly cloak,” Ikil replied, “but no normal space stealth fields.”
Harriet remembered the strange flickering ghosts they’d seen in hyperspace.
“Shit. The star intruders are here…and the hive is nearby.”
“In that case, Echelon Lord, what in darkest waters are they waiting for?” the Indiri officer snapped.
Harriet turned her gaze to the screen with Sier on it, her flag captain looking noticeably unhappy.
“We’re not a threat in their minds,” her flag captain pointed out. “So…”
“They were waiting for Harvester to leave,” she concluded.
#
Chapter 37
His ship was gone.
Harold stared at the orbital display in something close to shock. Liberty was gone, blown apart by a Laian mystery weapon they hadn’t been able to see or dodge. Lyon was dead. Popovitch was dead. Saab had died before ever discovering if his time in command had been enough to earn him a ship of his own.
There was a horrible feeling to being a captain who’d outlived their ship.
His reverie was interrupted by Sommers clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Rolfson, are you still with us?” he asked softly. “Hell of a day. Hell of a day.”
Harold shook his head, trying to focus on the moment.
“Where are we at?” he replied.
“Your packages are in place,” the Guard Captain told him. “Should I be telling anybody else just what we did?”
“Not yet. My call for now, at least until the Duchess gets here,” Harold replied. On the display, Harvester of Glory continued to move away from the Imperial fleet. They were letting her go. Intellectually, he could understand that.
But he wanted the son of a bitch who’d killed his crew dead.
Sommers was eyeing him, and he suspected his face showed what he was thinking.
“You weren’t on Earth when the A!Tol took over,” Sommers reminded him. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?”
“I was Triple-S, Captain,” the Guard officer said. “I had friends and brothers-in-arms on the ships that died. The A!Tol killed my best friend, my fiancée, and my oldest brother.
“I had a cousin in Russia. He died when our new overlords dropped rocks on the Russian surface-to-orbit missile sites. Another cousin only lived because the A!Tol decided to just stun the American last stand.”
Sommers shook his head.
“A second cousin suicide-bombed the landing site in Delhi,” he continued. “They had shielded tanks. His bomb vest didn’t even scratch the paint.
“So, yes, Captain Rolfson, I know what it feels like to watch the people who killed your friends walk away without punishment because it’s the right political decision,” Sommers said grimly. “I understand why the Duchess made the call she did, and I can’t argue that the Imperium’s been bad for us, but I watched half a generation of my family die protecting Earth from them.”
“And you’re still in the Guard,” Harold said, latching on to something—anything—other than the knowledge that his ship was gone.
“Life goes on,” Sommers told him flatly. “I chose a long damned time ago to put myself between the people and those who would endanger them. Only way to do that now is in the service of the Duchess and the A!Tol.
“So, I serve the sons of bitches who killed half my family. Indirectly, sure, but I serve them nonetheless.
“So, you, sir, can bloody well watch that ship fly away and live with yourself,” he concluded. “Because you can’t do anything else, and because the Imperium can’t fight the Laians.”
“No, we can’t,” Harold confirmed, shaking his head. He held out his hand to the Indian Ducal Guard officer and accepted the transmitter Sommers passed him.
“We’ll soon discover if we can fight the Wendira,” he continued. “And quite possibly the Mesharom. But this”—he tapped the transmitter—“means I can bloody well guarantee no one gets this ship but us.”
#
Chapter 38
The next few hours, to Harriet’s surprise, passed without incident.
The remaining starfighters disappeared, presumably back aboard their cloaked carriers. Ikil and Han managed to confirm where the star intruders had picked up their broods, but not in time to allow the Imperial forces to do anything useful with the information.
Instead, Harriet moved her fleet into orbit of Hope, reclaiming Division Lord Torandus’s surviving cruisers and the destroyers from the original picket.
Once all of the ships were in orbit, she sighed as she studied the neat formations.
The Duchy of Terra Militia contingent had been smashed. Vice Admiral Kurzman was technically senior to her, but Navy officers had priority, and with only a single super-battleship and two Thunderstorms left under his command…
“I’m going to contact Vice Admiral Kurzman from my office,” she told Piditel. “Alert me if we have any sign of the Wendira—or anybody else, for that matter!”
“Yes, Echelon Lord.”
Imperial design was quite fixed on where the office of a ship or formation commander should be: attached to their primary battle station. Harriet’s office was just outside the flag deck, and fully linked into the super-battleship’s communications system.
In the thirty seconds it took her to get to her seat and pour herself a cup of tea, Piditel had already set up the link to Emperor of China. She clicked connect and then carefully hid her disquiet at Pat Kurzman’s face when he came onto the screen.
She and the Militia Vice Admiral were almost exactly the same age, barely into their forties, but Kurzman looked like he’d aged decades since she’d last seen him, barely six months before.
Somehow, she knew most of that was in the last twenty-four hours.
/>
“Pat,” she said softly. “How are you holding up?”
He glanced around, revealing that he was in his own office. He’d clearly guessed that she wanted to have this conversation quietly.
“We lost more people at Second Sol,” Kurzman finally replied, “but I wasn’t in command then. We underestimated the Laians. And then…I let the bastard go.”
“It was the right call,” Harriet told him firmly. Technically, she could have overridden him. But it had been the right call.
“How long do you think we have before it all goes to hell?” he asked.
“We picked up at least two hyperspace anomaly signatures that were screwing with our long-range sensors when we arrived,” she warned him. “I’d like to think those were the star intruders and they just managed to actually sneak in this time, but…”
“We have to assume they weren’t,” Kurzman agreed with a sigh. “We need to make sure there’s no confusion on the chain of command, Harriet. The Imperial Navy has preeminence; we know the rules.”
The rules were often ignored when Militia forces heavily outweighed the local Imperial force, as when Torandus had accepted Kurzman’s authority, but that was no longer the case in Alpha Centauri.
“Thank you,” she said. “I assume command. We’ll make sure everyone knows before it comes down to a fight.”
“Time is on our side so far,” he told her. “Villeneuve is only nine hours away, twelve at most. Seven more capital ships—including the new Manticores.”
“I’m glad Kas!Val is being sensible,” Harriet admitted. “She and I…did not get along when we last met.”
And Kas!Val was senior to her, which meant she technically could be ordered to surrender command to the A!Tol when A Dawning of Swords arrived.
“She’s a tentacled bitch,” Kurzman replied, “but she’s not stupid.”
“The good news is that I think we took out enough starfighters than the star intruders aren’t going to pick a fight until their bigger siblings get here,” Harriet told him. “The bad news is, well, they’ve got at least one bigger sibling on the way.
Terra and Imperium (Duchy of Terra Book 3) Page 29