The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Aye, Captain,” Grave said.

  “Enemy destroyers opening fire,” Callaway said. “They’re trying to brush past us!”

  “Take them out,” Elton ordered. If one of the destroyers got through the gravity point, whatever was waiting on the far side would have enough warning to get their weapons up and ready to fire before Odyssey arrived. “Helm, take us into the gravity point!”

  Odyssey rocked, twice. “Two direct hits, starboard shield,” Callaway reported. “Shields are holding ...”

  “Stay on course,” Elton said. He cursed as one of the enemy destroyers jumped into FTL, curving a long arc through space before dropping back into realspace. It looked pointless, but any naval officer worth his salt would recognise it as a signal. The Harmonies guarding the other gravity points would know that something was wrong. “Time to gravity point?”

  “Two minutes,” Marie said. Odyssey shook, again. “We’ll be following King Whatever within seconds.”

  “It can't be helped,” Elton said. “Warn Mr. Biscoe to move.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Marie said.

  “Incoming fire,” Callaway snapped. “Brace for impact!”

  Elton gritted his teeth as more missiles slammed into the hull. Alarms started to sound a second later. “Damage report!”

  “Shield Nine has been knocked out,” Callaway said. He sounded frantic. “Shields Eight and Ten are working to compensate, but we have a weak spot!”

  “Hold them in place,” Elton ordered. Another enemy destroyer vanished from the display, but the remainder kept boring in for the kill. Worse, the gravimetric sensors reported a number of starships leaving the other gravity points. They’d be on top of him within minutes, at best. “Keep us going!”

  “Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.

  ***

  Commander Rupert Biscoe would never have admitted it, but he was starting to get ever so slightly sick of King Whatever. She was a battlecruiser - and there was no way the Solar Navy would give him a battlecruiser as his first command - yet he couldn’t help feeling as though she’d been designed by idiots. Or, perhaps, by people who’d wanted to hobble their crews as much as possible. King Whatever was tough, true, but she was also as slow and stupid as one of the pre-contact computers he’d seen in museums. Hell, he’d actually played a few pre-contact games - one of his boyfriends had loved refurbishing old machines - and they’d been quicker than King Whatever.

  But she was still his first command.

  “Take us into the gravity point,” he ordered, sharply. The entire ship shook, repeatedly, as the nearest destroyer slammed blast after blast into his shields. He’d ordered her destroyed, but a lucky shot had knocked some of his missile tubes offline. The enemy commander had been smart - or lucky - enough to take up position in his blind spot and keep firing. “Move!”

  “Aye, Captain,” Williams said. “We’re moving as quickly as we can!”

  “Not quickly enough,” Rupert snapped.

  He cursed under his breath as another wave of missiles slammed into his shields. Five of his seven generators were on the verge of burning out, leaving his hull dangerously exposed to enemy fire. He keyed his console, launching a salvo of missiles back at the damaged fortress, hoping it would buy them some more time. A moment later, a spread of missiles from Odyssey smashed the pesky destroyer out of existence before she could roll over and make a run for it. Biscoe felt a moment of grim satisfaction, mingled with bitter relief. He wouldn't have to face that enemy commander again.

  “Gravity point in ten seconds,” Williams reported.

  “Jump as soon as we’re within the point,” Rupert ordered. It wasn't going to be pleasant, even if they were practically crawling towards the point. “And prepare to engage whatever is on the far side.”

  Williams looked up. “Captain?”

  “Do it,” Rupert snapped. “They’ll fire on us as soon as they get over the shock!”

  He clenched his fists in rage. There was no way they could pretend to be innocent, not now. The hull was scorched and broken - one missile had come within bare metres of smashing his drive section to rubble - and his shields were failing. Another series of internal explosions underlined his thoughts. The enemy forces on the far side would take one look at them and know that something was badly wrong. Even if they didn't realise that King Whatever was no longer friendly, they'd want answers ...

  Williams cleared his throat. “Gravity point ... now.”

  The shaking stopped. An instant later, Rupert doubled over. He'd expected it to be bad, but it was worse ... far worse. He retched, uncontrollably. The pain struck him a second later ...

  “... Report,” he managed. Williams seemed to be alive and well - damn him - but Lieutenant Valarie Richards was lying over her console, clearly out of it. “What happened?”

  “Major damage, all decks,” Williams managed. His voice sounded hoarse. “Captain ... I’m picking up a single enemy fortress ... no, make that two enemy fortresses ... they’re scanning us.”

  Rupert forced himself to stagger forwards and push Lieutenant Richards out of her seat. The helm console lit up at his touch, granting him control ... it was almost pointless. King Whatever was so badly damaged that it was all her drives could do to push her off the gravity point before it was too late. The labouring sound echoing through her decks couldn't be healthy. He knew the engineering crew would do all they could, but they just didn't have the time.

  “Two fortresses,” he repeated. It was staggering ... and infuriating. They’d come all this way, evading enemy fleets and tricking their way past enemy fortresses, only to be defeated at the final hurdle? “Do they have any ships escorting them?”

  “Only gunboats, sir,” Williams said. “But there are a lot of ships in-system. The scanners are too badly damaged to tell if they’re friendly or not.”

  He broke off. “Sir, the fortresses are raising their shields,” he added. “And they’re hailing us, urgently. They want answers!”

  “I’m sure they do,” Rupert said. He ran his hands over the console. “Deploy drones for Odyssey, then divert all remaining power to drives and shields.”

  “Aye, sir,” Williams said. A low hum echoed through the ship, rising for a long moment before falling again. “I do have some missiles ...”

  “Hold your fire,” Rupert said. “Order all personnel to prepare to evacuate to the shuttles.”

  He felt an odd sense of calm come over him as he keyed in the final set of commands. Two fortresses ... Odyssey wouldn't have a chance of breaking clear before they smashed her to atoms. But if one of the fortresses happened to be taken out first ... his captain and crew might just have a chance to escape. He felt a rumble echoing through the ship as her drive fields strained against space, even though most of the drive nodes were on the verge of failure. They’d hold together long enough, he hoped, to slam King Whatever into the nearest fortress ...

  “They’re repeating their hail,” Williams reported. “Sir ...”

  “No response,” Rupert ordered. Hopefully, King Whatever’s shields would last long enough - once the fortresses started shooting - for her to reach her final destination. “Tell the crew to abandon ship, now! You too.”

  Williams blanched. “Sir ...”

  “Go,” Rupert snapped. Someone had to remain on the bridge. The idiots who’d designed the command and control system had never considered the crew turning the ship into an oversized projectile. “That’s an order, mister!”

  “But ...”

  “Go,” Rupert retreated. “And make sure Odyssey picks you up before it’s too late.”

  He turned his attention back to the display, refusing to watch as the remaining bridge crew teleported to the shuttles. They might just have a chance to make it out, if Odyssey picked them up or they flew through the maelstrom towards the Hudson Point. A passing freighter might just save them ...

  But there’s no hope for me, he thought, as the fortress grew closer. It sparkled with deadly light -
the commander had overcome his reluctance to open fire - but it was too late. Oddly, the thought of certain death didn't bother him. As long as the ship gets out ...

  ***

  “Transit completed,” Marie reported.

  “I’m picking up a live feed from deployed drones,” Grave added. “Sir ... my god.”

  “Show me,” Elton snapped.

  The image appeared in front of him a second later, far too late. He watched, helplessly, as King Whatever glided towards the enemy fortress and slammed into her shields. The colossal explosion vaporised both the battlecruiser and the immense fortress. A second later, a whole string of red lights blinked up on the display: a second fortress, a small fleet of gunboats ... and a set of shuttlecraft.

  “The shuttles are hailing us,” Grave said. “Captain, Commander Biscoe went down with the ship. A number of others were unable to evacuate.”

  “Understood,” Elton snarled. He’d mourn later, if there was a later. The second fortress was already targeting Odyssey. “Deploy ECM drones, then bring the shuttles onboard.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.

  Five Hammers left, Elton thought, as the fortress belched a lethal hail of red icons. The missiles would reach them bare seconds before the gunboats. And no way to know what’s waiting at the Hudson Point.

  “Helm, move us away from the gravity point as fast as possible,” he ordered. “Tactical, prepare to engage with point defence.”

  “Aye, sir,” Callaway said.

  Elton forced himself to study the display, trying to think. He could expend one or more of his remaining Hammers on the fortress, but with so many gunboats between Odyssey and her target he was all-too-aware that the Hammer might be blasted out of space before it reached the fortress. And he still had no way to know what was waiting for him. The Harmonies might have moved a significant force into the system already ... hell, they might have launched their invasion of Hudson by now. All he knew for sure was that traffic through the system had sunk to a tiny fraction of its former self.

  And if they have taken Hudson Base, he asked himself, what then?

  It was a bitter thought. Odyssey and her crew had been through hell. Commander Biscoe was dead, along with at least thirty others. God alone knew what had happened to Lieutenant Dennis and Mickey Tyler. The idea that it had all been for nothing, that Odyssey had already failed in her mission ... it couldn't be faced. And yet, it had to be faced.

  We could cut out of the system and find a place to make some proper repairs, if we knew, he thought. But we don’t know ...

  “Incoming missiles,” Callaway snapped. “Point defence engaging ... now!”

  Elton dragged his attention back to the engagement. The alien fortress clearly did have the latest set of updates. Only a handful of missiles were diverted by the drones, no matter how hard they tried to lure the seeker heads away from their targets. The remainder kept coming, followed by the gunboats. Hundreds were burned out of space, vanishing when the phaser blasts struck them, while the remainder ...

  “Brace for impact,” he snapped. “All hands, brace for impact ...”

  The starship rang like a bell. Elton bit his lip, hard, as the gravity field flickered sharply, then nearly vanished altogether. A low rumble echoed through the ship, followed by a series of sharp retorts. He knew that was bad ...

  “Shields Eight, Nine and Ten have failed,” Callaway reported. “Drive One is offline; Drive Two has taken significant damage and may fail at any moment ...”

  “Keep us moving as fast as you can,” Elton snapped. He cursed under his breath. If they didn’t risk using the Hammers now, it was unlikely they'd survive long enough to reach their next target. “Fire a Hammer, surrounded by conventional missiles and ECM drones.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. He broke off. “Sir, the gunboats are closing to attack range ...”

  “And there’s a gaping hole in our shields to attract them,” Elton finished. The fortress had fired a second salvo, but it would take them several minutes to reach attack range. “Divert point defence to taking out the gunboats.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. The ship shuddered, again. “Missiles away!”

  Elton closed his eyes - just for a second - to say a silent prayer. The Hammer was far too noticeable, even surrounded by conventional missiles ... the Harmonies might not know how to produce them for themselves, but they’d figure out the principles just by observing the weapons in action. A small black hole wasn’t something that could be easily hidden. He opened his eyes again, just as the gunboats swooped down to attack. A dozen were picked off, easily, but the remainder lasted long enough to strafe the hull with phaser bolts ...

  “They can't get through the hull,” Callaway reported.

  “They can pick off our point defence,” Elton said. The gunboats had sold their lives dearly, even if they didn't know it ... he knew they knew it. They’d done more than enough damage to his point defence that the next volley of missiles might well do serious harm. “Retarget some of our own missiles to take out their salvo.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.

  Elton allowed himself a moment, just a moment, of hope when the Hammer reached its target. The fortress fought desperately to save itself, but it was at precisely the wrong angle to take out a hammer. Dodging was the only solution and the fortress had nothing stronger than manoeuvring jets. Moments later, the Hammer plunged into the structure and vaporised it. The salvos of missiles cut off sharply ...

  ... And then the first red icons emerged from the gravity point.

  “Captain,” Callaway said. “I’m picking up three ... no, four ... battleships. No ... five ...”

  “Noted,” Elton said. “Prepare to ...”

  “Incoming missiles,” Callaway snapped. “Point defence is spinning around ... ready to engage.”

  Elton swore. The fortress had been destroyed, but its crew might just have the last laugh. Their gunboats had weakened the point defence too badly and there was no time to make repairs ...

  “Spin us around,” he ordered. It was a gamble, but they might just be able to interpose another shield between the hull and the incoming missiles. “And brace for impact ...”

  An alarm sounded. “Drive Two is down,” Marie snapped. “I ...”

  The missiles slammed home. Odyssey bucked like a wild animal, the gravity failing completely. Elton took hold of his command chair as the lights flickered before slowly recovering, forcing himself to look at the status display. Entire compartments had greyed out, warning him that the internal datanet had failed. The damage was far worse than he’d dared fear. It was the beginning of the end.

  “Drive Two is beyond repair,” Callaway said. “Drive Three and Drive Four are still intact, but we’ve lost too many drive nodes to generate an FTL field.”

  Elton looked at the display. A steady stream of enemy starships were slowly emerging from the gravity point. Two had dropped into FTL and were racing towards the Parana Point, while the remainder were slowly heading towards Odyssey. They might not have a solid lock on her - and it might just be possible to reactivate the cloaking device - but it didn't matter.

  “Activate the cloaking device, if possible,” he ordered. “And then ...”

  He sucked in his breath. They were doomed. Cloaked or uncloaked, they didn't have a hope of evading detection indefinitely. The enemy already knew their rough location. And that meant ...

  Elton smiled, coldly. Maybe they were about to die. No, there was no doubt. They were about to die. But he was damned if he was selling his life cheaply ...

  We may die, he thought. But at least the bastards will know they’ve been in a fight.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I hope you’re right.

  But I am a pessimist and that forces me to doubt it. The Solar Union represents a very different mindset to either Earthers or our alien friends. To risk losing that, to risk surrendering all that makes us what we are, is beyond comprehension. If So
larians and Earthers are different, mentally if not biologically ... what then are aliens?

  Will we win one war only to lay the groundwork for another?

  -Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).

  “Captain,” Lieutenant Pei said. “I’m picking up some unusual activity.”

  Captain-Commodore Jenny Longlegs looked up. “What sort of activity?”

  “Ten minutes ago, two ships dropped into FTL - heading from the Chalmers Point to the Parana Point,” Pei said. She was strikingly young for her post, but Jenny had never had any reason to doubt her competence. “Now, we have a number of starships - at least thirty - leaving the Parana Point and heading to Chalmers.”