Pettigrew, Nyondo, and the bridge crew looked on helplessly as the surgewave crashed into Warlock, shattering the hull of the destroyer like a hammer striking an egg. It was over in the blink of an eye. A second ago, Warlock carried over two-hundred people, and now they were gone, the first casualties in what might become humankind’s ultimate struggle—a fight for survival.
“Ms. Kuypers, activate shields. Helm, come to course one-four-four mark two. Emergency acceleration to flank speed,” ordered Nyondo. Everyone on the bridge was stunned at what just happened to Warlock, and Ensign Hayes took a tick to respond.
“Mr. Hayes!” roared the captain.
The ensign’s hands went to his console. “One-four-four mark two, ma’am, aye!”
Nyondo stood up. “People—focus! We are not going to let what just happened to Warlock happen to us. We grieve later, but right now, damn it, we fight! We fight and survive, do you hear me!”
“Hearing you loud and clear, ma’am!” shouted Commander Mullenhoff, who had just come out of the turbolift on her way to the bridge engineering station.
“You know,” Pettigrew whispered to his flag captain as she sat back down beside him, “for a small woman, sometimes you can be the biggest person in the room.”
“You and Swoboda taught me well,” she said looking around the bridge. “My crew, my responsibility.”
Pettigrew understood that responsibility all too well, nodding his head in support. “Our gas miners will jump out to the emergency rendezvous point when they see what just happened to Warlock. Once they translate safely away, we will do the same.” A nearby star system, code named Sanctuary, had already been designated as an emergency rally point.
Commander Paruzzi spoke up from his station. “Commodore, since the Massang are jamming our comms, it will take thirty-five minutes for the light of Warlock’s destruction to reach Vasant and Maroth.”
“They already know something is wrong,” pointed out Nyondo. “If the Massang are jamming our communications, our transponder signals got cut off too. When Captain Washam tries to check in to ask about the problem, he won’t be able to reach us.”
Everyone was watching the situation screen at the front of the bridge. It showed Tempest heading away from the moon Stobi. The two Massang destroyers that had killed Warlock were now coming at them from eight o’clock, with the enemy cruiser Yaxa closing from further back.
“That cruiser didn’t move this fast during their battle with the Lytori,” muttered Nyondo as she watched the tactical display.
“Harradoss wasn’t showing all of his cards that day,” said Pettigrew. “Plus I think he wanted to draw us into the battle, make us fire on the Lytori ship. Of course, I stupidly played right into his hands, even though my flag captain advised caution.”
“Well, the Lytori did try to blow us up with that computer worm,” said Nyondo, speaking a little louder now. “We’ve been in Summit for two weeks, and already we’ve got two alien species who want to kill us. Pretty cool, huh?”
The captain’s comment prompted a few tentative smiles around the bridge, even as the tactical screen showed the three enemy ships closing on them.
Nyondo turned to Pettigrew again. “If the Massang wanted to destroy us, why didn’t they just attack us when we first arrived?”
That question had already crossed his mind, and Pettigrew was pretty sure he knew the answer. “The odds were too even when we arrived in Summit. They expected our government to send a scout ship, something small and soft—certainly not a heavy cruiser. That’s what these two destroyers were all about—the reinforcements.”
“But, sir, they told us those destroyers arrived to protect their base from further Lytori attacks,” said Paruzzi, who had been listening.
“So they said, but the timing was all wrong. Those two destroyers arrived very shortly after the Lytori attack. They couldn’t have gotten here that fast—they must have already been en route.”
“For us?” ask Nyondo.
Pettigrew nodded. “For us. I’m not even sure they want to kill Tempest. After all, this ship would make a great prize if they captured it intact.”
“And us,” said Nyondo. “A hundred seventy-eight humans for the Shartoks to… work on.”
Pettigrew turned squarely to the captain and spoke in a low, grave voice. “That will never happen. I will order Tempest and our other ships to self-destruct before I allow them to touch one member of our crew.”
“Captain, ma’am,” spoke up Ensign Hayes from the helm. “Check out the enemy vectors.”
“He’s right,” said Paruzzi. “They’ve altered course, now heading for a point several thousand klicks in front of us. That gives us a little maneuvering room.”
Pettigrew smiled. “Big mistake, Harradoss. If you had kept coming on strong, you might have gotten off some shots at us.”
Nyondo stood, placed hands on her hips and studied the situation. “Harradoss thinks we’re trying to go for the sixth planet, to reach our gas miners.”
“Ma’am, look,” said Paruzzi. “One of the destroyers is breaking off and heading out to the gas miners.”
“Mistake number two,” said Pettigrew, who quickly grabbed a datapad to make some calculations. “That destroyer will never get there quick enough. The miners will see it coming and jump out of the system, and that’s exactly what we want them to do anyway.” Pettigrew put down the pad and drummed his fingers on the arm of his command chair, deciding if he wanted to commit to an idea he had.
“Mr. Hayes,” he said finally, “come right to course one-zero-two mark six. That will head us back toward Stobi without breaching their weapons envelope—at least I don’t think we will, based on what we know from their battle with the Lytori. Mr. Paruzzi, show me Stobi and the Massang base there.”
A hologram of the moon popped up in front of him with the enemy base marked on it.
“CHENG, a moment of your time please,” Pettigrew said, summoning Mullenhoff forward from her bridge station. “Chief Engineer, am I correct in thinking that the Massang surgewave cannons are area weapons?”
“Correct, sir. Point, fire, and smash everything in the path of the wave—hostile or friendly, the wave doesn’t care.”
That was just what he wanted to hear. “And Commander, could one of these waves reach the surface of Stobi, say if it missed its target in space.”
Mullenhoff smiled. “Even if it hit us, the remainder of the wave would continue until it dissipated or hit the moon’s surface, whichever came first. The closer the enemy is when it fires, the more likely it will be to strike the surface.”
And now for the key question. “Will our shields protect us?”
Mullenhoff crossed her arms and considered for a moment. “Based on what we saw during the Massang battle against the Lytori, our shields would probably protect us for at least one surgewave attack, maybe two. By a third volley, however, all our shielding will almost certainly be burned out and beyond repair, especially considering that the nearest repair dock is a hundred-fifty light-years away.”
“But we could survive the first volley,” said Pettigrew. “Too bad Warlock didn’t have shields.”
“You’re hoping Harradoss shoots at us and destroys his own base?” asked Nyondo as she sat back down.
“I’m hoping he doesn’t fire the weapon at all. I have a feeling this base actually is important to the Massang—it’s one of the few honest things the Shartoks have told us. If we keep Tempest between the enemy ships and the position of the base on Stobi, I think they may hold off on using surgewaves against us.”
“What about the gas miners?” asked Mullenhoff.
“I’d like to stay in system long enough to confirm they’ve jumped, but if things get too bad, we’ll head out and keep our fingers crossed that the miners meet us at the rendezvous.”
Minutes passed with the two sides initiating missile fire against each other, but neither scored significant hits.
“Their fire patterns are pretty clear,”
Nyondo reported. “They are trying to disable our engines. I think you were correct, sir—they want to capture us.”
“And no surgewaves,” added Mullenhoff. “Looks like you were right there too. They don’t want to take any chances in hitting their own base.”
“Or destroying their prize.” Pettigrew leaned forward and interlocked his fingers. “Before anyone breaks an arm patting me on the back, check out the tactical display.” The enemy icons were now roughly five-hundred kilometers away and edging closer to the moon’s surface.
“They’re trying to flank us,” said Nyondo. “And when they do…”
“We’ll be getting a face full of surgewaves,” said Pettigrew. “All right, time to end this. If our miners have already jumped, it will take the light from that event thirty-five minutes to get back to us. So even though we still see those ships out at the sixth planet, I’m counting on the fact that they put two and two together and have already left the system. Captain Nyondo, if you please…”
Nyondo, who had been at the XO’s station conferring with Paruzzi, walked to the center of the bridge. “Mr. Hayes, come to heading three-niner-zero. Fifteen degrees to the elliptic and roll negative to the mark.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
The captain sat down in her command chair and keyed the ship’s PA. “This is the captain. All hands prepare for the jump to hyperspace.” Purple warning lights on the fringes of the bridge shone softly as anyone who was standing or walking quickly found a seat.
Pettigrew checked his console, then said the words he knew one crew member had been longing to hear.
“Ms. Kuypers, you may wheel and deal.”
“Aye aye, sir,” she said, her fingers hitting the virtual display in front of her. Kuypers had a way of speaking under her breath so that everyone on the bridge could hear it. “These are for Warlock,” she said in her loudest whisper. “Choke on ‘em, you two-faced assholes.” On Kuypers’ command, a dozen neutron missiles sprang from their tubes and raced downward toward the Massang base on Stobi.
At almost the same moment, alarms rang out on the bridge. “Missiles rising from the surface,” shouted Paruzzi as he watched his console. “Six—no, eight enemy missiles inbound on the port quarter. All hands brace for impact!”
Seeing that the enemy warheads were going to reach Tempest just before they jumped, Nyondo reacted. “Helm, abort the jump!”
“Can’t,” replied Hayes swiftly. “We’re too deep into the cycle. Jump in five, four, three, two…”
The hostile missiles arrived at the instant Tempest was being consumed by a hyperspace bubble, a pocket of the alternate reality through which human ships journeyed between the stars. The missiles, the shields, the ship itself—all physical matter in that area of space was breaking down at the command of Tempest’s hyperdrive engines, shifting from one plane of existence into another. Most of the enemy missiles detonated against the last remnants of shielding, and the automatic point-defense cannons remained intact long enough to kill the others.
All except one.
21: Showdown
Koenig Manor
Esterkeep
Sarissan capital
Renata couldn’t stand it anymore. “Channa, please stop talking.”
The Fleet Admiral was seated at the opposite end of a long conference table and had been chattering on for thirty minutes now about the war against the Jangsuvians. From the start of the briefing, the mood between the two one-time friends was tense. Maxon had even used a device like Preiss had employed to sweep the room for bugs before the meeting began. Nothing remained of the trust and warmth once shared by the two most powerful women in the Empire.
“But, Your Majesty, I thought you would be pleased with our progress,” said Maxon cynically. “Victory in the Coventina system gives us a bridgehead into Jangsuvian space. Admiral Dehner has done well. We are fortunate to have such a gifted commander.”
“Dehner?” Renata said with disdain. “Some would say that Dehner is a butcher who throws people and ships at the enemy without regard to cost. How many of our own people died in this great victory of yours?”
“Acceptable losses.”
“Acceptable to Dehner? Acceptable to you? What about our dead spacer’s loved ones? Do you think it’s acceptable to them?” The question went unanswered, like so many others during these briefings. It had become customary that the Supreme Commander appear at Koenig Manor once a week to confer with the Empress on matters of state. Over the past month however, Maxon had opted out of the sessions, sending this or that member of her staff in her place. It was yet another part of her campaign to marginalize Renata’s power.
“Over two thousand dead at Coventina,” said Renata scornfully as she looked over the casualty figures. “Two thousand! A battleship and three cruisers lost. Some great victory your Admiral Dehner delivers to me.” Maxon said nothing, remaining quiet as Renata fumed. “We can’t afford these losses, especially in light of what’s coming.”
“Majesty?” Maxon asked, feigning ignorance.
Renata wagged a finger at the Supreme Commander. “Don’t play dumb with me, Channa. I know all about what’s happening in the Summit system. Commodore Pettigrew has discovered the Adversary.”
“I see Admiral Tovar has been whispering in your ear again,” Maxon said, shoving aside a mobile computer terminal she had been using. “We don’t know for sure that these aliens are this Adversary of yours.”
“Not mine,” Renata quickly corrected. “The New Earthers have—”
“Yes, yes, I know all about what the New Earthers claim. Whether any of it is true or not remains to be seen. And if it is, then it’s more important than ever to win our war against the Jangsuvians and unite the Renaissance Sector behind the Empire.”
“You mean behind you.”
“All right—behind me,” said Maxon, lowering her voice and reaching to tap some keys which called up a virtual projection. “We can’t very well unite behind you, Rennie. Seems you’re having a serious credibility problem right now.” A holographic image appeared in the air which displayed one of the major newsnets. ‘All Hail Her Travesty, Renata!’ screamed the headline situated over a looping video of the chaos at Grenzbach Primary.
“Your girlfriend did a good job of leaking that video onto the Nets. She did an even better job in planting those people, those provocateurs, but you won’t be rid of me because of Grenzbach.”
“It’s a cumulative effect,” smirked Maxon. “The Grenzbach fiasco, Prince Karl’s legal problems, the murder of Leo Sanchez and Karl’s possible connection to it—or your connection.”
“You know damn well that neither of us had anything to do with Leo’s death,” Renata snarled.
“I know that, but the public doesn’t.”
“That’s because your Ministry of Culture goons keep planting lies in the minds of the public. Call them off, Channa, or—”
“Rennie, I’m bored,” blurted out Maxon. “You bore me. I thought you would be an interesting partner, but instead you’ve just become a tedious rival.”
“A partner? A partner in what? Channa, you don’t even know what you want anymore. First it was to crush the Gerrhan Commonwealth…”
“Which I did.”
“Then it was the Jangsuvians, now it’s me, and all the while you’re expending the resources of this starhold at a staggering rate. You’ll get your empire alright, but it will be a kingdom of ash.” Renata stopped to look at her one-time friend. Was there anyone left to reach inside the woman sitting at the end of the table?
“Channa, I look at you today and see passion without compassion, ambition without justification. Sarissa is in a position to lead humanity right now, we don’t need more war. It can be done by influence and example, not aggression and destruction. The direction you are taking us actually diminishes our power, no matter how many star systems we control. It’s not too late to change course, to scrap the Ministry of Culture, to stop this pointless conflict against the Jang
suvian Worlds. You can still unite humanity, but you can’t do it this way.”
Maxon stared at her sovereign for a few seconds and then raised a glass of wine, holding it up in a mocking salute. “Pretty speech, Rennie. Mercifully, it’s probably your last.”
It was futile to continue. Maxon was not going to listen to reason. Renata had summoned the Fleet Admiral here tonight for one purpose, and now it was time to do what must be done. The question was, could she actually pull it off? Dismissing Channa Maxon would require support from at least some of the military, a little luck, and running the biggest bluff of her life.
“Fleet Admiral Maxon,” Renata began in a stern, steady voice. “I cannot continue to sanction the policies you have set for this starhold. The people of the Ten Worlds cannot continue to pay such a steep price for your personal ambition. Therefore, I—”
“Your Imperial Majesty!” Maxon bellowed suddenly as she stood up. “I’ll be the one doing the sacking. Renata Darracott—you will abdicate your position as Empress within the next ten days.”
Maxon placed her hands behind her back, assuming a formal parade rest stance as she continued. “I leave to you the manner in which you make the announcement. If you comply, I guarantee your safety and that of your husband as well as your personal staff, whom I know you hold dear.” That last part was a veiled threat. She and Karl were not the only ones at risk now—there was Flood, Bennett Boyer, and possibly others.
You can’t fire me, I’m firing you, was Channa’s ploy. But the stakes were higher than that—much higher. No wonder the Fleet Admiral had checked for hidden listening devices before the meeting. Maxon had come here for the same reason she was called—to deliver an ultimatum, but she was upping the stakes with deadly intimidation.
Renata tried to feign coolness by casually taking a sip of wine. Truth was, she needed it. “Just so I’m not misunderstanding, if I don’t step down, I’ll be the next Tyrus Covington, is that it?”
Keeper of the Sun (Starhold Series Book 3) Page 21