by J. N. Chaney
But it was a war, and it had to be won.
“Okay, if you guys are good with this, so am I,” he said, and turned to Benzel. “Get the fleet deployed.”
“Already given the orders,” Benzel said, grinning. “Figured I’d get a jump on things. We should be ready to launch in about an hour.”
“Okay, then,” Dash said, then he started to turn away but paused. “How could you be so sure I’d say yes that you’d start getting things deployed? And before you even really knew what we were planning?”
“To answer the second question, Custodian gave us updates along the way as we came here. And to answer the first”—Benzel’s grin widened, and now Wei-Ping smiled along with him—“we’ve come to know you pretty well, Dash. We knew you’d want to go all in on attacking these bastards, because it’s what we would have done.” He put a hand on Dash’s shoulder. “You would have made a great addition to the Gentle Friends, you know.”
“I think he’d count as an honorary member now,” Wei-Ping said.
Dash smiled and shrugged at their words, but honestly, it was one of the greatest compliments he’d ever been given.
Dash watched the skirmish between the Verity force and the Aquarians play out on the Archetype’s heads-up. The imagery and data were being relayed to them from the Ring; racing through the tenacious dust and gas of the nebula they’d chosen to cover their approach, they were blind to what was happening more than about a hundred thousand klicks away.
“Those Aquarian ships need to break off,” Leira said. “They’re getting their asses kicked.”
Dash gave a grim nod. The Aquarian scout ships were about as durable as dry paper in the face of the Verity attacks. They had scored one solid hit with a gamma-ray laser that had raked a light cruiser from bow to stern, gutting it, but Leira was right—they were getting their asses kicked.
Dash called up Al’Bijea. “Your people have done all that was needed,” Dash said. “Hell, I think they’ve done all that they can. Get them out of there.”
“The commander of the Comet has already ordered a withdrawal,” Al’Bijea replied. “I think you’re right, we’ve done what we can. It’s over to you now, Dash.”
“We’ll be deploying for battle in about twenty minutes,” Dash said, glancing at the chrono. “Don’t worry, we’ll take these assholes out before they get anywhere near you.”
“I hope so. Al’Bijea out.”
Dash heard everything he needed to in that I hope so. What the Aquarian leader was saying was, I’ve decided to throw in my lot with you. Now, you have to convince me it's worth the blood of my people.
“Dash,” Sentinel said. “There are anomalous scanner returns from ahead and to port on the bearing shown.”
Dash looked at the heads-up, showing the tactical display. It did show what seemed to be a localized source of neutrinos, hidden somewhere in the billowing dust. It might just be the emissions from a star the charts showed as laying in that direction but otherwise hidden from them by the nebula. Sentinel was right, though; the exact characteristics of the neutrino emissions were off; they were detecting more of the elusive particles than should be emanating from a star of the class shown. There seemed to be astronomical exceptions to everything, though, so it could be some natural effect.
Or it could be a spaceship trying to conceal its reactor emissions by putting itself in front of a more distant star.
“Leira, I’m going to take A squadron off in the direction of that anomaly, just in case. You and B Squadron keep on your current course and get ready to intercept that Verity fleet approaching the Ring. We should only be a short distance behind you.”
“Roger that.”
Dash veered the Archetype onto a new trajectory, heading straight for the anomaly. The rest of A Squadron, led by the Herald, followed in his wake. Dash hated calling them A Squadron and B Squadron. They needed to come up with something more personalized that would instill pride.
The threat indicator lit up. At the same time, a pair of big ships emerged from a cloud of electrostatically charged dust.
“Two Verity heavy cruisers ahead,” Benzel said, and began snapping out a series of coded orders that made the squadron smoothly rearrange itself into a battle line. At the same time, the Herald erupted with a torrent of fire, pulse-cannons, dark-lances, and missiles ripping into the closer of the two cruisers. This Verity force was likely trying to use the nebula the same way they were, as a covered approach to the Ring, so they could take the Aquarians in the flank. They hadn’t counted on Dash and the Cygnus fleet using the nebula in much the same way, and seemed to be in the middle of trying to spring an ambush. They would have gotten away with it, too, if not for Sentinel very much living up to her name.
The cruiser staggered under the weight of the Herald’s fire. It managed a few desultory return shots, and a few more from its surviving point-defense systems as the Herald ’s missiles raced and slammed home. Leira hit it with a nova-cannon shot even as she raced by, leading B Squadron to the rescue of the Aquarians still doing battle beyond the opaque veil of the nebula. Her blast hit the drive section, leaving the cruiser stricken, coasting helplessly along on her last trajectory, slew a little to one side as she vented atmosphere from the rents in her hull.
Dash turned his attention to her companion. The other cruiser was burning hard, changing her course to vanish back into a thicker part of the nebula. She knew she was outgunned, and badly at that, facing the entirety of A Squadron. A flotilla of lighter ships, a frigate, and a half dozen corvettes darted forward and launched missiles, desperately trying to screen the bigger ship as it fled.
“Benzel, that damaged Verity cruiser looks pretty much intact,” Dash said. “Think we could take her as a prize? She’s got to mass about as much as the Herald.”
“Why not? Wei-Ping, can your squadron and Leira deal with whatever’s attacking the Aquarians?” Benzel asked.
Wei-Ping answered immediately. “Based on the data they’re sending us from the Ring, yeah, I think so. We just need to keep an eye out for that heavy cruiser that you guys chased off.”
“The last maneuver detected for that vessel had it accelerating at a high rate directly away from, and above, the ecliptic plane of the galaxy,” Sentinel put in. “Unless it uses some method or technology we have yet to encounter, it will take at least an hour to return to the current battlespace.”
“Pfft, that gives us lots of time,” Wei-Ping said. “Leira, you okay with this?”
“Of course. Dash, you and Benzel go get yourselves a new ship for the fleet,” Leira replied.
“Okay, then,” Dash said. “Benzel, I’ll meet you outside the rear-most airlock.”
The reply that came back rang with fierce anticipation. “We’ll be there!”
Dash pulled himself along a corridor lit by fitful, flickering lights. A squad of Gentle Friends ranged ahead, clearing the way. Benzel led another squad forward, heading for the bridge.
“We’ve got another sealed bulkhead up here!” the squad leader called back. “Dash, can your mech do anything about that? Open it for us?”
“I’ll check. Sentinel, have you hacked in yet? Can you open that?”
“I can,” Sentinel cut in. “But there is a more urgent matter.”
Dash noticed that Sentinel had replied on a private channel, so whatever she was about to say she’d obviously intended for Dash’s ears only.
His stomach clenched.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“There is a scuttling program running. It will detonate the remaining ordnance aboard the cruiser in just over two minutes.”
“Oh. Shit. Can you stop it?”
“I am attempting to do so now.”
“It’s going to take us longer than that to get out of here, you know.”
“I am aware of that.”
“Dash,” the squad leader called back. “Any word?”
Dash switched the comm to the tactical channel. “She’s working on it
. Just stand by.” He switched back to the private channel. “How’s it going?”
“I am still working on it.”
It struck Dash that he’d actually not lied to the Gentle Friends squad leader—Sentinel was working on it, even if it was something entirely different. All it did was buy him a moment of clearer conscience though; he was going to have to decide, sometime in the next few seconds, if he was going to even tell the Gentle Friends about their danger. Not that there was anything he, or the rest of them, could do about it.
“I anticipate that I am going to be unable to terminate the scuttling program in time,” Sentinel said.
Dash stared up the corridor and at the Gentle Friends, who were glancing back from the sealed bulkhead, at him, waiting.
Shit. Do I tell them, or just let this happen? Dash thought.
As he confronted the quandary, Dash had a sudden vision of Freya’s park back on the Forge. He remembered that moist, green smell, the riot of colors from the flowering plants, the grass under his feet.
He wished that’s where he was right now. More than anything, that he was—
Wait.
“Sentinel, you said the scuttling program will detonate all of the ordnance?”
“That is correct. In about forty-five seconds.”
“How much ordnance is aboard?”
“Almost the entire load out. The Herald’s attack prevented the launch of—”
“Can you access fire control?”
“Yes. The Verity failed to lock down that system against intrusion.” She paused, then said, “You want me to launch the ordnance, don’t you?”
“Can you?”
In answer, tremors ran through the ship, again and again. The Gentle Friends tensed, and the squad leader called back, “Status update! What’s happening?”
“Just keep standing by,” Dash replied, then switched channels again. “Sentinel?”
“I have launched all ordnance, except for a single missile jammed—”
A heavy shudder rippled through the ship, flinging them all sideways.
“That was jammed in a launch tube,” Sentinel finished.
Dash took a long breath then let it out. “Okay. Now that my heart is starting to beat again, can you open up this door ahead of us?”
“At your command.”
Dash switched back to the tactical channel. “You ready? Sentinel’s going to open the blast door.”
The squad leader gave a thumbs up and rattled orders to his people.
“Okay, Sentinel, now.” Dash called.
The door slid open. As soon as it did, a blinding flash flooded the corridor. Dash’s last thought was, guess Sentinel was wrong about that ordnance.
The lack of atmosphere saved them from what could have been a catastrophe. With no medium to carry a shockwave from the Verity booby trap, there was no blast effect along the corridor. There was still shrapnel, of course, from the charge casing; three of the Gentle Friends had their vac suits breached, and one of those probably would have been killed if not for their new body armor.
Still, it made them far more cautious as they advanced toward engineering. They encountered three more charges, two of which the Gentle Friends were able to disarm. The third, unfortunately, went off and badly injured one of their number with a fragment that punched right through her helmet and lodged in her neck. As she was evacuated back to safety, the rest of the squad pressed on, working their way through the inconstant lights strobing along the passages and in the compartments they passed.
“Dash, Benzel here. We’ve got the bridge—” He paused then went on. “The fire control board is showing a massive ordnance launch not long after we boarded. Was that what we felt, that shaking?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“What was that all about?”
“I’ll tell you later. We’re right outside main engineering, about to enter—”
Another tremor ran through the ship. Dash frowned at that. Now what?
“Benzel, did you just do something? Launch something?”
Sentinel answered. “That was the launch of several escape pods. They have already translated away, their trajectory toward the galactic core.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the final blast doors leading into engineering rolled open partway, then stopped. The Gentle Friends threw in a broadband charge; a few seconds later, it detonated with a dazzling visible-light flash and a pulse of energy that would momentarily swamp much of the EM spectrum, short of the far gamma and radio-frequency bands.
They immediately raced in. Dash heard shouts and saw pulse-gun discharges; he piled in after them and found himself embroiled in a vicious firefight. The next few moments were search, find target, shoot, and take cover, over and over. But they knew now that the Verity despised getting into close quarters, so they deliberately pressed in against them, closing and, in a few instances, engaging Verity in melee with boarding cutlasses, axes, and the butts of snap- and pulse-guns.
Dash got in a few hits of his own, knocking two Verity aside to set up attacks from nearby Gentle Friends, then taking down a third with a kick, a fist to knock aside a wild return swing with a shock baton, then a bash from his pulse-gun across his opponent’s helmet. The Verity stumbled back, and Dash yanked out his slug-pistol and fired it, all in one smooth motion that was faster than trying to reorient the pulse-gun. The round slammed through the Verity’s chest, spraying viscous, whitish fluid in globules that wobbled and spattered against the bulkhead behind it.
“Engineering’s secure,” the Gentle Friends squad leader said, gasping into his comm. “No more resistance.”
For the next few minutes, they confirmed that all of the Verity were down and dead, then they gathered their own wounded back to the Herald for treatment. In the midst of it all, Benzel showed up with more Gentle Friends.
“We’ve got a hold up,” Benzel said when he found Dash. “There’s quite a battle being fought out there. And I don’t mean just Leira and Wei-Ping with B Squadron, although it sounds like they arrived in time to save the Aquarians and kick the Verity’s ass out past this nebula. I mean literally right outside this ship.”
Dash stared at him through his faceplate. “A battle? Who’s fighting? Sentinel, what’s going on?”
“The Verity light ships, a frigate, and several corvettes did not accompany the heavy cruiser when it withdrew. They have returned and are attacking, apparently—”
A heavy thud shook the ship around Dash.
“—intent on destroying the ship you have just secured, rather than letting you take it as a prize.”
Dash started for the corridor leading forward. “I’m on my way!”
“Actually, Dash, you should remain where you are. You could not safely re-enter the Archetype, given the current tactical situation. Moreover, the Herald and the rest of her squadron are, with my assistance, dealing with the matter.”
“You’re running the Archetype in battle?” Dash made a hmph sound. “Hey, does that mean I’m out of a job? I can go back to the Forge and just spend my days drinking plumato wine?”
“The Archetype was meant to be piloted by the Messenger. I am only meant to operate it in exceptional circumstances, such as this one.”
Dash gave a wry smile. “And here I thought I could retire.”
“Operating the Archetype with you is not the same.”
That made Dash’s eyes widen. “Are you saying you miss me?”
“I am merely stating a fact. The Archetype does not function as efficiently or effectively without you piloting it. Therefore, it is not the same.”
“I think you miss me.”
“Please standby, Dash. I have a battle to fight. Sentinel out.”
Dash turned to find Benzel grinning at him. He scowled back. “What?”
“That was on an open channel,” Benzel replied. Then he sang out, “Dash has a girlfriend.”
The Gentle Friends—all of them—laughed, and one of them said, “You need a better body fo
r her than the Archetype, Dash. I don’t think you’d last long slow dancing with that mech.”
More laughter came, and Dash just shrugged. “Can I help it if I’m popular with the ladies? Even the virtual ones?”
Benzel laughed yet again, along with the rest, but he switched over to a private channel. “So that big ordnance launch—that was to stop this thing from self-destructing, wasn’t it?”
Dash looked at Benzel’s face through their helmet faceplates, making eye contact with him, and nodded.
“Yeah, it was.”
“How long did we have?”
“Less than a minute. Guess they wanted to give themselves time to get away.”
“Well, they screwed that up. Those escape pods launched later.” Benzel’s eyes narrowed. “Were you going to tell us about it, or just let us find out when we went poof?”
“Which would you have preferred?”
He saw Benzel ponder it for a moment, then shrug. “Don’t really know.”
“Yeah. Neither do I.” He shrugged back. “Which means I’m just going to hope I never have to actually make that decision.”
Benzel punched a gloved hand into Dash’s shoulder. “You and me both, brother. You and me both.”
13
“We lost four scout ships and their crews,” Al’Bijea said. “Twelve in total. Overall, a relatively small loss—but we don’t have a lot of people, so we feel every death keenly.”
Dash leaned on the table and nodded. They were back in the sumptuous meeting room aboard the Oasis, the remote station the Aquarians had established a few tens of thousands of klicks from their artificial home world, the Ring. This was where Dash had first met Al’Bijea, and it made a convenient place to meet now, while the fleet reorganized itself and patched up its battle damage. The thick carpet, wood paneling, and subdued lighting made it seem so incongruous, though, as a place to talk about the war.
“I understand exactly what you mean,” Dash said. “We don’t have a lot of people, either. I hate losing any of them.”