Star Swarm: The Chaos Wave Book One

by James Palmer

  “Gunner Cade,” said Kuttner. “Be ready to fire on the Armitage as soon as we’re in range.”

  “The Armitage is a formidable vessel,” advised Hamilton. “Heavy armor, powerful weapons.”

  “I know what we’re up against, Commander,” muttered Kuttner. “But I’m sick and tired of being pushed around, aren’t you?”

  Hamilton looked grimly at the view screen. He knew full well what the Colonel’s flagship was capable of. “Brackett, erase our transponder ID and push out as much tachyon static as you can. Maybe that will buy us some time.”

  “Smart thinking,” said Kuttner. “Helm, increase speed.”

  “I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet,” said Hudson. “They’re maintaining course.”

  “Their weapons are offline,” added Cade.

  “Cocky bastard, isn’t he?” said Kuttner.

  “You don’t know the half of it, sir,” said Hamilton. “But at this point we could use every advantage we can find.”

  Kuttner said, “Increase speed.”

  “We’re in weapons range,” said Cade.

  “Then fire!”

  The ship’s ion cannons blasted the Armitage with a deadly stream of charged particles, which struck the vessel amidships.

  “They’re coming about,” said Hudson.

  “Keep firing,” said Kuttner. “Don’t give them a chance to breathe.”

  “Sir,” said Hamilton. “Lt. Niles is aboard that ship.”

  Kuttner looked at his second in command. “I know, son. And I’m sorry. But we’ve got to shut Straker down to stop the Swarm.”

  Hamilton nodded. “I know. It’s just—.”

  Kuttner placed a hand on his left shoulder. “It’s not just good guys and bad guys. Things start exploding, everyone gets hurt.”

  Hamilton looked down at the floor.

  “She’s sustained heavy damage,” said Hudson, but she’s coming about.”

  “Our deflectors are gone, Captain,” said Cade.

  “I know, Gunner. Just keep firing.”

  Gunner Cade held down the firing controls, sending a continuous particle stream into the Armitage, overwhelming its deflectors and striking one of the capacitors that powered them, obliterating it. He kept up the barrage, carving a dark jagged line across the gleaming hull of the larger, more powerful ship.

  “They’re firing back,” said Cade, gripping the edges of his weapons console.

  “All hands, brace for impact,” Kuttner warned.

  The whole ship shook as a volley of depleted uranium shells struck home, smashing through the already fragile Onslaught’s hull like tinfoil. Warning klaxons went off, and Kuttner ordered them silenced. A panel shorted out somewhere behind them, filling the air with the tang of ozone and burnt wiring.

  Cade re-aimed his ion cannons and fired, searing the Armitage as it fully came around to face them. “The guns won’t hold out much longer.”

  “Give them everything we’ve got,” said Kuttner.

  With the rail gun down permanently, the ion cannons were the only weapons they had at their disposal. Cade made good use of them, activating an automatic firing sequence he’d developed to cause the guns to move independently of the targeting system, allowing them to fire on different areas of the Armitage, exploiting weak points until one of the guns overheated and powered down. A well-placed shell from the Armitage destroyed the other one, causing the ship to shudder and jerk once more as it was struck. From all over the ship they could hear muffled explosions, the smell of distant smoke filling the air.

  The Armitage was worse for wear too, portions of its hull melted and warped, huge holes in its skin open to vacuum. But it had something the Onslaught didn’t have—ammo. It hurled volley after volley of depleted uranium shells at them, many of them missing by a wide margin, others striking crucial areas of the ship.

  “I think we got their targeting system,” said Cade. They’re shooting blind.”

  “They’re still shooting, Lieutenant,” said Hamilton morosely.

  “We’ve still got one thing left,” said Kuttner.

  “What is that?” asked Hamilton.

  “The Onslaught itself.”

  “Sir?”

  Kuttner stood and pointed at the Armitage in the viewer. “Mr. Hudson, ramming speed.”

  Hudson turned and glared at him. “What?”

  “You heard me,” said Kuttner. “The Swarm is being controlled from that ship. We’ve got to stop Straker at any cost.”

  “Yes sir,” said Hudson and made the course adjustments. The ship lurched as it picked up speed, its tired engines coerced into one last push of speed and energy.

  “But what about Led—Lt. Niles?” said Hamilton.

  “She’ll have to fend for herself,” said Kuttner, his eyes never leaving the viewer.

  Hamilton regarded the old man. He was right, of course. Still, he wished there was another way.

  “Don’t look so glum,” said Kuttner, straightening his uniform. “You’re all getting off this ship.” He slapped a button on his chair, opening the ship’s common circuit. “All hands, this is Captain Kuttner. Abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship.”

  He palmed the circuit closed. “Now, I want you to take Drizda and the rest of the command crew and get out of here. Drizda will still need to figure out a way to stop the Swarm.”

  “Sir,” said Hudson. “What about you?”

  “I’m staying.”

  The rest of the crew stared at their commanding officer in disbelief.

  “Without anyone to pilot the ship, it could get off course and miss its target. And once upon a time I used to be one hell of a pilot.”

  “Do you realize what you’re doing?” said Hamilton.

  “Yeah, kid. I know. But it’s time for this captain to go down with his ship. Besides, I was never cut out for retirement anyway.” He winked. “Can you see me sitting on a quiet beach somewhere, getting sunburn?”

  “It doesn’t suit you, no,” said Hamilton.

  Kuttner turned to the navigator. “Hudson,” he snapped. “Pour on the speed. I want to shove our rail gun right up Straker’s ass.”

  “It’s been an honor, sir,” said Hamilton.

  “Same here, son. You’re one helluva leader.”

  “You have shown more honor than an entire clutch of our fiercest Draconi warriors,” said Drizda. “My people will write war hymns about you.”

  Kuttner dismissed this flattery with a wave of his hand. “One more thing before you go.” He reached into a small storage unit attached to the side of his command chair and pulled out a bottle full of amber liquid. The ship shook again as another depleted uranium shell struck, and he almost dropped it.

  “Scotch,” he said. “A hundred years old. Spun up from Earth’s gravity well at considerable expense, I might add. Hell, it’s considered contraband on seven planets. Promise me when this nonsense is over that you’ll be the one to finally open and enjoy it.”

  Hamilton took the bottle and nodded.

  “Now all of you, get the hell off my ship. That’s an order.”

  They left the command deck, Hamilton and Drizda leading the way. “What are we going to do now?” said Drizda. “Float in space in a lifepod with battling warships and Swarm probes all around us?”

  “We need another ship, Commander,” added Brackett.

  Hamilton nodded. “You are absolutely right. And I know just the one. Lieutenant, did you keep our souvenir?”

  Brackett hefted the small tightbeam encoder that Dutton had used, and had until moments earlier been tied into their communications net. “Sure did.”

  “Perfect. Let’s make a call.”

  Chapter 35

  Kuttner’s Last Stand

  Captain Henry Kuttner sat at the navigation controls of the now empty vessel. He hadn’t personally piloted a vessel in going on forty years, and that one had been a whole lot smaller than the Onslaught. It was a strange feeling. Different and yet very familiar. Like coming full
circle.

  The Armitage grew larger and larger in the viewer as he hurtled the Onslaught toward it, bearing numerous impacts from the larger ship’s weapons. A panel near him shorted out, exploding in a blast of heat and light. He ignored it. He felt something warm and moist on his forehead and swiped at it, thinking it was sweat. It was blood. Some bit of debris had cut him. It didn’t matter. Taking out Straker did.

  The Armitage was clearly trying to get out of the way, but it had suffered heavy damage. The once proud vessel had been reduced to a limping brute. Kuttner wondered if Straker was trying to contact the Onslaught. Without the tightbeam encoder, the ship’s communications were inoperable. But he liked to think Straker was trying to contact him. Kuttner wanted him to know what was coming and that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  The Armitage kept up its assault. Most of the shells went wild, but a few struck home in strategic places, detonating in critical sections of the ship. Kuttner gave full power to the engines. If he was going to be dead in minutes anyway, he planned on taking Straker with him. The dying Onslaught shuddered and rocked with each impact, warning messages from the ship’s computer going unheeded. A section of metal fell from the ceiling, falling atop Kuttner’s command chair behind him. If he had been sitting there it would have killed him.

  Kuttner chuckled at the irony and winced as the panel next to him shorted out. The whole ship was shaking now, and he imagined bolts and rivets shaking loose all over the once proud vessel.

  The Armitage loomed closer. It had managed to alter its position, attempting to dive beneath the Onslaught’s fatal trajectory. In this position the Onslaught would still impact it near the engine core. Kuttner grinned as he poured on the speed, gripping the edges of the navigation console tightly as the old ship finally threatened to tear itself apart.

  “Just a little further, old girl. For glory’s sake.” He muttered. “Once more into the breach. Or some shit like that.”

  Captain Henry “Hank” Kuttner was laughing at his little joke when the Onslaught struck the Armitage, the leading section of his ship’s forward rail gun impaling the slightly larger vessel just forward of the engine core. There was a shuddering concussion and a flash of white light as the ruined vessel fell apart around him. Then he knew only oblivion.

  Chapter 35

  Trapped

  Leda stepped away from the terminal. It was hard to work the controls with her wrists fastened together, but she got it done. She stared at the silent army of metal Ix warriors, which were now starting to awaken. Their eyes burned an eerie blue, with a matching blue coming from their chests. She had to get out of there. But how?

  She shrank away from them, getting as close to the far wall as she could. Any moment they would become aware enough to sense her presence. Then she’d be finished. The first casualty in a new kind of war. She scanned the ceiling, spotting an access panel between her and the Ix. If she could get up there, she’d have unimpeded access to most of the ship. She could steal a shuttle and get out of there. But it was too high.

  She stared at the Ix. One in particular caught her attention. Standing at the end of the front row, its right arm ended in a wicked looking scythe.

  All of the Ix still hadn’t come online yet, and those that seemed to be were not yet aware of her presence. Leda ran over to the scythe-armed Ix and slid the center of the manacle chains quickly down the blade. Just as she’d hoped, the magnetic connection was severed, and the manacles clattered to the floor.

  One problem solved, but she still had one more, and it was a big one: how to reach the access panel. She carefully studied the scythe-armed Ix’s companion, a solid-looking robot holding a long, gleaming rifle at parade rest. She looked it over, wondering how it worked. The Ix were vaguely humanoid. Their knees bent backwards, giving them legs like the Draconi, but their upper torsos resembled human anatomy. They all seemed to have five fingers on each hand, and their weapons were designed for use with a being matching that physiology. Still, it was a gamble.

  She watched as a another row of the alien killing machines hummed to life. That made her decision for her. She had no more time for study; it was now time to act.

  Leda gripped the Ix weapon in both hands, wrenching it from the thing’s grasp. It was surprisingly light; whatever it was made from was better than any alloy mankind could produce. Flipping it around, she wedged the scalloped stock against her shoulder, took quick aim, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon glowed blue and hummed, and a powerful stream of bluish energy pulsed from the gun’s tip. It struck its former owner, and there was a shower of sparks as the Ix’s torso turned to super-heated slag before what was left of it fell to the ground.

  Leda shot too more in quick succession, dragging them out of line by their feet and stacking them haphazardly beneath the access panel. This had to be the craziest idea she had ever come up with, but there was no backing out now.

  As each Ix came fully awake and took aim at her, she fired, blasting it to pieces. It was like shooting ducks in a barrel. She had five or six in a pile before they got the upper hand.

  The next one she fired upon was ready. A shimmering blue field of energy crackled over it seconds before the particle stream from her gun could strike, the beam dispersing harmlessly into the field. Emboldened, the Ix marched toward her as one body now, weapons and blades raised and ready. They studied her for a long moment before revealing another surprise, their legs shifting around so that their knees bent like hers, which had the added menace of making them almost a foot taller.

  Leda shouted as she fired at them again, the blasts hitting their energy fields. Leda had never seen a weapon more powerful than the one she now held in her hands. If the Ix’s own weapons couldn’t defeat them, then Navy weapons didn’t stand a chance.

  Leda wondered why they didn’t just fire on her and end it. They still seemed to be studying her. They almost had a half-distracted look, like they were seeing her but their minds were really somewhere else, like when someone spoke to her through her cochlear implant.

  This, she knew, was her chance to get out of there. She looked at the pile of Ix bodies she had created. She raised the gun and fired at the panel. It disappeared instantly under the blue beam. Then she leapt onto the bodies of the Ix, tossed the weapon up through the hole, and went up the hole after it.

  She almost made it up and into the access space, when a cold metal hand wrapped itself around her right ankle. She kicked at it with her left, screaming as the extra weight threatened to pull her down. Another grunt and she was up and through, grabbing the Ix weapon and moving as far away from the hatchway as she could. A metal head jutted up into the space, and she kicked it hard three times before it disappeared. Leda waited, covering the hole with the Ix rifle. No other attempts were made to come after her, but she heard the sound of more of their weapons fire, as the place filled with the smell of ozone. Leda looked through the opening in the ceiling to see the Ix charging at the door, now turned to slag. They killed the guard, and were now making their way through the ship.

  Leda was pondering her next move when the whole ship suddenly shook violently. She heard the sound of distant warning klaxons, and the air filled with smoke and the tang of burnt wiring. The concussion knocked her head-first out of the hole, still gripping her rifle. She fell down into darkness.

  Chapter 36

  Out of the Frying Pan

  Commander Hamilton, Drizda, and the Onslaught’s command crew had stuffed themselves into a shuttle that was now headed for open space. “Brackett, can you get the Razor?”

  “I can try, Commander. “The shuttle’s tightbeam relay isn’t as powerful as the Onslaught’s but this little black box gizmo should boost the signal.”

  Hamilton was confident it would work. The encoder held the Draconi ship’s quantum frequency from when they had conversed aboard the Onslaught. It was just a matter of finding her. The ship could be too far out of range, or destroyed, or—

  “This is Grand Lea
der Kark of the Razor. Identify yourself.”

  “This is Commander Hamilton, formerly of the Onslaught. Me and my crew are that ship’s only survivors. We are formally surrendering ourselves to you. If you still want us, come and get us.”

  Silence for a long moment, then, “Send me your coordinates.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Gunner Cade.

  Hamilton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was the largest shuttle the Onslaught had on board, but Hamilton, Hudson, Bracket, and Drizda were still crammed in elbow to elbow. “It’ll have to be. The Razor is the closest ship in range.”

  “But we’ll be their prisoners.”

  “It’ll be all right, Lieutenant. I have a plan.”

  Hamilton glanced at Drizda before adding, “Sort of.”

  The Onslaught’s remaining crew didn’t have to wait long for their questionable rescue. After about thirty standard minutes the Razor loomed large in the shuttle’s viewport, looking more intimidating than ever. Hudson cocked his head to the left, listening to his cochlear implant. “We’re getting docking orders from the Razor,” he said, nervously.

  “It’s all right, Lieutenant,” said Hamilton. “Do as they say.”

  “Leave your weapons,” ordered Hamilton. “If interrogated, give name, rank and serial number only. Let me and Drizda do all the talking.”

  “Sir,” said Cade. “The Draconi eat their enemies.” He glanced self-consciously at Drizda as he said it.

  “Don’t worry, Gunner,” said Hamilton. “They won’t do that right away. They’ll want to cook us first.”

  Lt. Brackett groaned. Hamilton looked down at the floor and sighed. He did not have the old man’s flair for gallows humor. He missed Kuttner already.

  “Look. I know you’re apprehensive. But I wouldn’t have suggested this route if I didn’t it had a good chance to succeed. Our people are out there fighting a war based on false pretenses. Both sides are fighting and dying while the real enemy is still among us. We are going to do the best we can to stop that war and defeat that enemy. Our ship is gone. Our captain is gone. But we are still soldiers.”