by J. N. Chaney
“Privateers,” Wei-Ping hissed.
Dash held up a hand. “Tell us what you know,” he said to Temo. “And take your time.”
Temo ran a hand over his shaved head, which was now furred with stubble. “I am—used to be—commander of a transfer station. It was”—he shuffled toward the star map and pointed at a system—“here.”
“Pretty damned close to Verity space,” Benzel said.
“Yes, I…I suppose it was,” Temo replied. “But we didn’t know that. We didn’t know anything about them, until—” He stopped and took a long, shuddering breath.
“Take your time,” Dash said.
“I was away, checking a satellite link. It had gone down. It put me on the far side of a distant moon relative to the station where my family was .”
Silence.
“They—the Verity—attacked. Took them. All of them. My family, my crew—”
Temo stopped, swallowing hard.
“If you’d like to take a few minutes—” Leira started, but Temo cut her off.
“No. I know you’re fighting back against these bastards. I want you to know this.” He took another breath. “Anyway, I managed to escape. My shuttle could translate, just not too far. So I had to be careful. Jump from system to system. I still drained the anti-deuterium tanks pretty much dry, which is how I ended up with the rest of those people aboard those freighters.”
Dash glanced at the others, but waited.
“Those bastards, those Verity, turns out they were right behind me.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “Guess I get to be one of the few guys who got away from them in the nick of time, twice.”
“You mentioned you knew something,” Dash said. “Something we could use.”
“Yes. When I was jumping between systems, I noticed this one.” He pointed at a star system near the six they’d chosen to focus on. “It had more of your Verity in it. A big installation. I didn’t hang around long, just recalibrated my nav and translated the hell out of there. But I did notice it wasn’t very well defended…like, at all.”
Dash looked again at the others. “All due respect, Temo, but you’re not exactly a soldier. So what exactly does not well defended mean to you?”
“No static defenses, four picket ships at most, a wide-open approach along an axis perpendicular to the system’s ecliptic.”
Temo stopped when he noticed everyone staring at him. He shrugged. “I actually was a soldier. Ten years in the corporate security business as an assault marine.” He raised his mechanic hand. “That’s how I ended up with this.”
“What outfit?” Ragsdale asked, but Dash interrupted.
“Before you guys start swapping war stories, let’s stick to the matter at hand, huh?” Dash peered at the system Temo had indicated. “Looks like a binary planet orbiting a blue dwarf. A few smaller rocky bodies. No ice or gas giants or much else of anything. And that’s all we know about it.” He looked back at Temo. “You said it was a big installation?”
“Yeah. Huge, but poorly defended.”
“Probably because they’ve got all the systems around it fortified with missile platforms and supporting ships,” Benzel said. He looked at Dash. “It’s not one of those six systems we talked about, but it’s awfully damned close.”
Dash nodded. “Okay, Temo, have a seat. We’re going to pick your brain for every detail we possibly can.”
Temo nodded right back. “When it comes to taking out the bastards that killed my—”
He stopped again.
Dash put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Oh, we’re going to take them out, all right. We’re going to attack and destroy everything we find at that blue dwarf. And that’s just going to be the beginning.”
22
Dash watched the heads-up as the fleet of the Cygnus Realm deployed, readying itself to translate away from the Forge and launch their campaign against the Verity. Temo had been able to provide them with solid intelligence, albeit with a lot of holes. Understandably, though, he hadn’t been keen on sticking around in a Verity-controlled system for long; he certainly hadn’t been on an intelligence-gathering mission.
Accordingly, they’d decided on a somewhat less-direct approach to things this time. Again, Dash and Leira in their mechs would lead, but this time they would quietly translate into the blue dwarf system at a point well removed from the ecliptic. There, they would take a look at what they were facing. If it appeared clear, they would translate back out, and then in again, as far into the system as they could. The rest of their fleet—the Herald and her Silent Fleet cohorts, the Snow Leopard and the Slipwing, and another flotilla of drones loaded with missiles and mines, would hang back, ready to be committed to battle according to whatever they found. A second squadron of mine-laying drones would be ready to deploy scrambler mines at strategic points around the blue dwarf system, to cut it off from easy reinforcement by other Verity forces.
That was the plan, anyway.
Of course, plans only really got you to the action; once the shooting started, a plan would be, at best, a loose framework upon which you would hang a slew of improvisations, contingencies, and frantic reactions. And to help with that, they had two innovations up their collective sleeves.
The first was an experimental system deployed on the Archetype and the Herald. It was designed to generate a powerful electromagnetic field in the frequency range of human brain waves, the theory being that it would disrupt communications between the modified nerve cells that seemed to effectively be the pilots of the linked Verity ships that had come so close to defeating them. Leira had worried about the effect on their own brains, but Custodian had been confident there wouldn’t be any and, sure enough, when they’d tested it on Dash, nothing had happened to him. Leira then remarked that it might be due to the fact that Dash already had very little brain activity, which earned her a rude gesture.
They hadn’t been able to test it on linked nerve cells, though, because none of them wanted to go there. So, whether it worked or not would have to be confirmed in the field.
Their other secret weapon was the Mako. The little fighter, now equipped with a translation pod and their own prototype blast cannon, was keeping close formation with the Slipwing. Conover had clambered into the cockpit for the first test flight with a tight look on his face that bordered on nauseated, but afterward he’d emerged with a broad smile.
“Okay,” he’d said, “that was—”
“Fun?” Dash asked.
“Yeah. Fun. I think about what I want to do, and the ship does it. I don’t have to worry about thrusters or power levels or stabilizers or any of that. Once I got the hang of it, all I had to do was decide I wanted to go somewhere or do something, and I did!”
Dash had to grin at the young man’s bubbling enthusiasm. Indeed, his initially cautious, restrained maneuvers had become more and more wild as the flight progressed. But flying it in spins and rolls and loops in empty space near the Forge was one thing—flying the Mako in battle, when missiles and energy blasts were flying, was another matter. For that, it would be very much learn-as-you-go for Conover.
At least the blast cannon worked. Conover had fired it once, loosing a colossal blast—and that was very much the right word for it—that pulverized a kilometer-wide asteroid to gravel. It also turned out that the weapon had a much longer recuperation time than they’d expected, something Custodian would work on when they got back. As for now, it was time to fight.
“Okay, everyone, it’s h-hour. You all know the plan, so let’s go.”
Acknowledgements came in from the rest of the fleet, and Dash flung the Archetype toward the translation point, everyone else following.
He actually hated heading into battle. Not so much for himself, but for the others he was leading. But this time, considering what was at stake, and the truly vile nature of their enemy, he was actually looking forward to it.
What he wasn’t expecting—long before they even reached the translation point away from the Forg
e—was the threat indicator lighting up like a nuclear fireworks display.
“Aside from that big ship, I see two cruisers, six of those damned linked corvettes, and some gun drones,” Dash said.
“So how do you want to do this?” Leira asked.
Dash glared at the heads-up. They hadn’t even made it away from the Forge, and had been bounced by a powerful Verity flotilla. Custodian speculated that it had followed the refugee ships, having hacked into their scanners, then used them to surreptitiously gain intel. They’d then taken their time to work a long way around the Forge’s system, to come at them from an unexpected direction. It was only through dumb luck that the Cygnus forces were already marshalled and ready for battle—something Dash intended to make abundantly clear to the Verity.
“Benzel, you bring the Herald in with me—our priority targets are those linked corvettes, and let’s hope those new neural disruptor systems do their thing. Leira and Conover, focus on that big ship. Wei-Ping, take the Snow Leopard and everyone else to deal with the rest, but stand ready to help me and Benzel, or Leira and Conover. Custodian, make sure the Forge—”
“Is ready, yes,” Custodian replied, his smooth voice a rock of reassurance. “All defensive and weapon systems are powered up and standing by.”
“You don’t know how good it is to have the Forge at our backs,” Dash said. He confirmed acknowledgements from everyone else, then launched the Archetype into battle.
Dash yanked the Archetype through a hard turn, then activated the neural disruptor again. He was immensely satisfied to see the trio of nimble corvettes fall into momentary chaos, their otherwise precisely choreographed maneuvers suddenly plunged into an uncoordinated mess. Dash seized the chance to pummel one of them with dark-lance shots, ripping it open from bow to stern. He couldn’t follow up, though, because one of the two heavy cruisers swung into the combat, batteries of pulse cannons pumping a deluge of shots. Dash dodged and wove among them, wincing as shots hit home, splashing against the Archetype’s shield.
“Hey, Dash,” Benzel said. “Could use a little help here!”
Dash threw the Archetype through another series of evasive gyrations, taking in the situation on the heads-up as he did. The other heavy cruiser had charged the Herald head-on, but its weight of fire was heavier than Benzel’s by a wide margin. At once, Dash saw the Verity tactics—they were going to keep him and Benzel decisively engaged so the linked corvettes could make a break for the Forge.
Dash considered pursuing, but that would leave Benzel facing both heavy cruisers with no one else immediately able to support him. So he flung the Archetype toward the Herald instead.
“Custodian, there are some of the linked ships coming your way.”
“I am aware.”
“Well, okay then,” Dash muttered, firing the dark-lance at the nearest of the two cruisers. It pumped shots right back, making it clear that the Archetype wasn’t going to win a stand-off gunfight.
Fine.
Dash slammed the Archetype through a course change and charged straight at the cruiser in one of those unpredictable human ways. It threw off the cruiser’s firing solution, its pulse-cannon batteries flinging energy into empty space. By the time he’d been reacquired, he had the power sword deployed and charged up; without missing a beat, he raced over the top of the cruiser and slammed the sword into the hull, cutting a deep gash across her. At first, nothing seemed to happen—and then the forward quarter of the cruiser slowly folded back, tearing free of the rest of it along the cut. Atmospheric gases, debris, and bodies spilled from the widening gap.
Dash didn’t look too closely at the bodies. Instead, he raced on toward the Herald, thinking, yeah, there you go, sometimes it pays to bring a knife to a gunfight.
“Dash, the power sword is currently stuck in the deployed position because of damage,” Sentinel said. “You won’t be able to stow it.”
Dash shrugged. “Fine. If I can’t put it away, I guess I’ll keep using it. And you just used another contraction.”
“That is an error mode I must—”
“Not the time to worry about it,” Dash said, but he still managed a quick laugh.
Brandishing the power sword, he flew the Archetype into a new storm of pulsing cannon fire from the second cruiser. The Herald, he saw, had taken numerous hits, but the Silent Fleet ships were tough; she kept snapping out dark-lance shots, loosing salvos of missiles, and swatting away enemy missiles with her point defenses. The fire pounding her slackened as the enemy cruiser switched targets to the Archetype, which was all the excuse Benzel needed to drive her in closer to her opponent.
“Benzel, what the hell are you doing?” Dash shouted.
“What we Gentle Friends do best: preparing to board!”
“Are you insane? You have no idea how many Verity are aboard that thing, how many bots they might have—”
“Only one way to find out. Besides, Dash, you know as well as I do how much we could use another ship, especially one that big.”
Dash had to admit that. Okay, then.
No.
Wait. Dash shook his head. Not that long ago, he would have been all for it. Do the most aggressive thing possible and, well, basically just count on it all working out. But that was Dash then. Dash now was responsible for these people, for their lives, and beyond them, countless other lives across the galactic arm. It might be incredibly satisfying to take this ship—hell, Benzel’s big motivator was probably getting some face-to-face payback from these inhuman monsters called the Verity—but strategically it was a bad move.
“Benzel, no. Break off. That’s an order.”
An order. He’d never given someone an order before.
The comm stayed silent. Dash fired the dark-lance and swooped toward the enemy cruiser, fully expecting Benzel to ignore him and just press home his boarding action. Shit. An order? He thought Benzel—a freebooting pirate to the core—would break off just because Dash ordered him to? Dash realized he was fooling himself if he thought Benzel would just quietly—
“Understood,” Benzel finally replied. “We’ll break off and just shoot this bastard into scrap. We could use the raw materials and make better stuff on our own, anyway.”
Dash watched as the Herald accelerated hard, vectoring herself laterally to warp her trajectory, passing well clear of the Verity cruiser.
Well, holy shit.
Dash would have marvelled some more, but he didn’t have time. The pulse-cannon fire slackened as he closed in on the cruiser. He was too close now for the main batteries to generate a firing solution. Instead, the point-defense systems opened up, a storm of weaker, but far more numerous shots that enveloped the Archetype like a single, rippling blast that went on and on. In a way, it was worse than the big pulse-cannons, because it quickly ate away the mech’s shield.
Dash lashed out with the power sword at a point-defense battery as he swept past it, slicing it to scrap. He raced across the upper hull of the cruiser, aiming himself at—he narrowed his eyes, searching.
That spot, right there.
The Archetype’s shield flared and died. The barrage of point-defense fire began chewing at the Archetype’s armor, leaving a glowing trail of vaporized metal in its wake. An instant later, Dash slammed the power sword into the cruiser’s bridge, ripping it open to space. The impact spun the Archetype hard, but Dash was ready, taking the impact on the mech’s feet. They slammed into a sensor cluster, smashing it to scrap, then the mech rebounded, bouncing back into open space, maddened sparks flying from the storm of metal around him.
He tried firing the dark-lance, but damage had taken it offline. He fired the distortion cannon instead, trying to target a point somewhere inside the cruiser’s hull. He was rewarded with the sudden implosion of a section amidships as the surge of sudden gravitational pull collapsed the cruiser’s structure in on itself. Mortally wounded, the ship began slewing to one side.
A colossal explosion erupted from a few thousand klicks away. Dash left Be
nzel to finish off the cruiser—with pleasure! had been his enthusiastic response—and raced toward the massive blast. Something had exploded, but he wasn’t sure what and feared the worst. He punched up the magnification on the heads-up, trying to figure out what was happening.
He saw the big Verity battleship, the Swift, and the Slipwing dancing around it, pumping out shots, while the Snow Leopard and the other Silent Fleet ships hammered it from a distance with perfectly synchronized, targeted fire. The battleship itself seemed crippled, a massive, glowing gap blown in her stern quarter leaking atmo in furious spurts.
“Dash, we need your help!” Leira called. “It’s Conover!”
Dash’s stomach knotted up, hard. “What about him? Is he okay?”
“Just get here as soon as you can!”
Dash hissed a curse before answering. “On my way.”
Dash grimly closed on the new battle. He passed by the drifting wreckage of the Verity gun platforms interspersed with the derelict remains of most of their own drones. An entire, mostly automated battle had played out here, he realized—machines at war. But he dodged them, wincing as debris banged and clattered against the Archetype’s hull. He finally got close enough to the fight around the battleship to make out details.
All of the Cygnus ships were battered, the Snow Leopard in particular venting shimmering bands of atmosphere. Even the Swift had taken some heavy hits and was now missing a lower leg and foot. But the Verity battlewagon was much worse, with two colossal chunks having been ripped out of her hull, exposing the deepest interior of the staggering warship.
“Messenger, the battleship’s reactors are giving unstable and increasing power outputs. I estimate an explosion in one minute, plus or minus ten seconds.”
Something that big, exploding, would be a problem. And soon.
“Everyone clear out!” he shouted. “Maximum acceleration! That thing is going to blow!”
“Dash, Conover’s hurt, and the Mako’s disabled,” Leira replied. “He’s only a few klicks from that ship.”