“Wilder out.”
Okoye’s voice replaced the other admiral’s seamlessly as the main display reverted to a real-time view of the system plus the battle schematic and the strategic display. “There are indicators of enemy activity beyond the field. It’s clear that they’re waiting just inside the rocks for us. When we break through, each squadron will focus on the assignment that’s been transmitted to you. In the hope that our little disinformation campaign worked at all, we’re not to give them any more time to figure things out. The other two locations will take a little longer to punch through, but we’re not going to wait.”
The strategic display updated with vectors for each of the squadrons heading into the weakened area of the asteroid belt. Okoye said, “Energy weapons are taking too long. In fifteen seconds, all of our missile decks will fire into the field. Squadrons will form up in three ranks of four and fire energy weapons at the field. Once we make a hole, we break it wide enough to go in at least two squadrons abreast in pairs, and we race through. On the other side, I’ll deploy reserves to keep expanding the opening while we take on the enemy forces.”
There was a pause, and Cross was about to speak when he was cut off. “Captain Cross, Commander Flynn, Commander Martin this message is just for you. You are my headhunters. If you see vital targets, don’t wait for permission. Once we get in, you’re clear to mix it up with the birds. It has been my pleasure to serve with each of you. Stay safe, and drinks are on me when it’s over.”
Cross swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “Flores, Matthews, make sure our squadron connections are as they should be. Captain Hiroshi, are you on this channel?”
The commander of the Tianjin, his assigned wing, answered immediately, “Sure am, Captain.”
Captain Hiroshi Ishana was one of Cross’s favorite members of the Allied Asian Nations. Dima had introduced the two of them, and they’d struck up a fast friendship over their bizarre and passionate love of films from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Hiroshi was especially fond of westerns and slipped into an accented Texas drawl at odd moments. It hardly ever failed to make him bust out laughing.
“I have only one thing to say to you, Hiroshi,” Cross said in a gravelly tone.
“Yes, Hoss?” he replied.
“Giddyup.” He pointed at Lee, and his squadron exploded into motion.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was fitting, Cross thought, that the Washington, DC should be among the first ships to enter alien territory. He watched as the squadrons in front of him opened a gap that met the admiral’s conditions. Okoye’s voice sounded as the last obstacle was eliminated. “Force One, squadrons one through eight, advance as planned. Nine and ten, continue opening the passage.”
Cross commanded squadron five, and his ships trailed the paired approaches of one through four. The front groups continued to hammer on asteroids as they came into position, widening the gap for those that would follow.
He got an unobstructed view of the enemy, and his draw jaw dropped open. Ships of countless kinds, in a range of sizes, scurried in space before him. Their weapons stabbed out at the encroaching humans the instant they were in range, and the battle was on.
Before he could attack, the trap the aliens had set for them was sprung.
“Evasive,” Cross yelled as the asteroids, which had been slowly spinning and sliding through their individual patterns suddenly became self-determined. Scores of the giant rocks came under power and accelerated toward the human forces. The Rio shouted out its own warning, but it was impossible to avoid the attack.
The forward elements rocketed through the gap before the asteroids reached them but found themselves bereft of support as others blasted into the trailing ships. There was no subtlety, just a huge mass under power ramming into the human ships. A seemingly endless number of rocks crowded the passage. Cross assumed that slowing the followers down enough to finish off the front rank was the enemy’s goal.
Cross assumed wrong.
The explosives set deep within the asteroids detonated, filling the space with additional concussion damage and flying shrapnel to batter everyone’s shields. The first ship to explode set off a chain, and by the time the ships behind them had cleared every autonomous rock from their path, more than twenty decks out of Force One’s total of 127 had been lost.
“Keep it together, people. This changes nothing,” Cross said over the squadron channel. He barked, “Lee,” and his helm officer threw the Washington into a sliding roll to avoid the sparking remains of a UAL cruiser as it spun past them. Cross’s eyes narrowed as his adrenaline spiked, and the noise and uncertainty around him fell away, replaced by a singular focus.
Then his group was through the rubble, and a wealth of targets opened before him. “Break it up,” he commanded, and his squadron split into pairs to seek opponents. Cross didn’t immediately dive in but watched as the battle display populated with ship types and locations. He pointed at one. “There,” he said. “That’s a rammer with what looks like an escort of six or seven cruisers. Kate, let’s go after the rammer. The rest of you, once you’re done with your current engagement, come and join us. Let’s get that thing off the board before it causes trouble.”
He didn’t wait for confirmation but ordered Lee onto a new heading to intercept the rammer.
“Give us a target, Kate,” he said, and seconds later an impact marker appeared on the enemy ship. In preparation for the battle, Pandora had been continually analyzing the Xroeshyn vessels to find their most likely weak spots. It was guesswork, even for the computer, but it was better than anything else they had at the moment.
“Matthews, verify the whole squadron has the mark. Walsh, let’s send in some torpedoes at the rammer, but as soon as we’re near a cruiser, unload everything we have at it. Ideally, pick one that’s already engaged. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and the shields will be imbalanced.” He received a nod from the weapons officer and turned back to the screen.
In the lower corner, the strategic overview showed the human forces nearing the inner edge of the asteroid field in the other two attack locations. The existence of the Xroeshyn vessels awaiting them was a given, but the humans’ sensors couldn’t identify any details yet. Cross switched to the channel he shared with his wing. “Tianjin, follow our lead. Cruiser first, then rammer if the opportunity is there.”
“Gotcha. We’re on it,” Captain Hiroshi replied.
Cross waited with a complete lack of patience as the distances closed, and then they were in the mix. Torpedoes rocketed out toward the rammer from the bow tubes, accompanied by a spattering of laser and plasma. Lee jerked the ship to the right, and Walsh fired the port broadside at the cruiser he’d chosen. The Tianjin fired at almost the same moment, then both ships rolled to bring their other broadsides to bear. A double-double serving of missiles and energy forced the enemy ship to break off and flee, but the aliens’ reactions were just an instant too slow. The squadron claimed its first kill as the cruiser spun out of control into the enemy next to it.
Kate swept in with a battle cry and speared the second ship with a full barrage of sustained energy, her gimbaled weapons tracking as the Pandora flew past and seamlessly switched to aft weapons to keep up the assault. It was too much for the reeling vessel, and it exploded.
While they fought, the rammer had set its sights on a member of Cross’s squadron that was embroiled in a three on two battle. The trio of enemy ships wasn’t giving an inch and dove in front of the Saskatoon every time it tried to get out of the triangle they’d formed. “Little help,” Cross said on the squadron channel, and marked one of the three. It quickly took energy blasts from half the ships in his squadron, plus the Pandora, and torpedoes followed. The trapped members of his team accelerated at the marked ship, and it hesitated, torn between running and continuing to block them in. Its hesitation cost it the chance to outrun the missiles. It came apart at the seams, and Cross’s ships escaped through the debris, evading the rammer that
passed within a score of meters of their tails.
“Yes,” Cross enthused. “We’re up three to nothing. Great job, folks.”
“Incoming,” Matthews yelled, and the Washington changed course erratically, a sign that Lee had been alarmed enough to trigger computer control for a moment. Cross was thrown hard against his restraints and felt the torque of the motion as each of his bones tried to leap out of his skin at once. The ship was rocked by repetitive concussions as missiles rained down upon her. The real-time view showed the same thing happening to the rest of his group where they’d surrounded the rammer again. “What the hell, Matthews,” he asked. He followed up with, “Squadron, spread to max range but stay in pairs. Make it harder for those bastards to target us.” The icons shifted on the screen in response to his command.
“It’s those damned alien missile boats, Captain. There’s a ton of them at the back of their lines, and apparently they’ve figured out how to hide the torpedoes from our sensors.”
Pandora’s gentle voice joined the conversation. “I was unable to sense them until the last instant, as well. However, I believe I can provide greater warning now that I know what to look for.”
Cross nodded. “Great, Pandora, thanks. Matthews, set that up.”
He turned to take stock of the display again. Four enemy cruisers remained near the rammer and harassed his squadron as they poured fire into it. The giant battering ship moved sluggishly, rotating on its center point as its momentum carried it forward before applying thrust to bring it back toward one of his ships.
“Kate, is it worth ramming this thing so we can move on to bigger prizes?”
“We’ve discussed that and have decided to reserve the armor for an emergency. This doesn’t qualify.” There was no apology in her voice, only a simple statement of fact.
“Okay, then, let’s plan a series of strafing runs on that spot that’ll keep continuous damage on it, and—"
Cross’s lower jaw slammed up into his top one as the ship rang like a bell. He spat blood from where a broken tooth cut his mouth and said, “Report.”
“Medical to the bridge,” was Matthew’s first response, and Cross swiveled his head to see that Flores was hanging in his chair against his restraints. Matthews continued, “Rammer is gone. Presumably a sacrifice. The Jakarta, Manila, and Panama are all destroyed. The rest of us are damaged.”
He hit the squadron channel. “Saskatoon and Rostov, you’re wings. Tianjin and Kilkenny, you’re together. First priority is to look out for one another.” He shook his head and failed to clear the ringing, succeeding only in making the jangling of his thoughts worse.
“Holy hell,” he breathed as sparkles on the screen caught his eye. All around the battlefield, rammers were detonating, taking the human ships engaged with them out of the fight. The lucky ones began to limp back toward the protection of the squadrons that had just come through the gap.
Okoye’s voice overrode the other comm chatter. “Force One, retreat and regroup according to plan Beta. Missile platforms, discourage the enemy from following.”
Cross nodded, and Lee adjusted their course accordingly. Small icons representing hundreds of missiles appeared on the screen, on course to intercept the nearest Xroeshyn vessels as they pursued the wounded humans. Most of them broke off, save for a cluster that was coming right for the Washington.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Cross’s voice started incredulous and ended with a grim chuckle.
“You are correct, Captain,” said Matthews. “It’s the Ruby Rain.”
Her squadron rocketed at him. “Kate, she’s here,” he called.
“Busy. Out of position. You’ll have to deal with your girlfriend on your own.” A set of missiles departed from the Pandora and headed for the scarlet ship, but they weren’t going to arrive in time to make a difference.
“Incoming hail, Captain,” said Fitzpatrick.
“Put the wench on the screen,” he replied. She appeared, and the arrogance that so frustrated him was visible in every line of her reclining body and every contour of her smug smile. “Captain Cross, what a pleasure to see you again.” Her words were punctuated by the impact of energy weapons against the Washington’s shields. The three ships accompanying the Ruby Rain hung back to allow her the honor of the kill while preventing his squadron from interfering.
“Early days yet, Captain Indraat.”
“It’s Fleet-Captain now, but no matter.” She waved a hand negligently in the air. “A long, long time ago, I promised to claim the death of your ship and everyone on it as my own. Today, I end you and deliver on that promise.” Her image faded from the screen.
The Ruby Rain fired and kept firing. Energy hammered the Washington’s aft shields as she ran. “Status?” Cross demanded.
Matthew’s voice was confused. “She’s hitting us, but the blasts are weak. They’re hardly depleting our defenses at all.”
“Probably another damn secret bird weapon we haven’t seen yet,” he growled. “Lee, evasive Theta. Helm control to the computer.” The force of the escape pattern was enough to make stars appear in his vision as the ship heeled over. Finally, the Ruby Rain was forced to break off pursuit as missiles rained down behind the Washington.
“Captain,” came the pain-filled voice of sensor officer. Cross turned to see the medical team continuing to work on him. One arm was clearly broken, but with the other he manipulated his displays. “There was something else weird going on right there.”
“I’ve got it too,” Fitzpatrick added. “It appears to be a piece of computer code, transmitted on audio wavelengths.”
“Verified,” Flores grunted. His hand flew across his console, and he said, “Okay, it’s in a protected virtual run space. We can give it a try and see what happens if you want, Captain.”
Cross looked up at the screen and saw that his ship, and those of his squadron, were in the clear for the moment as both sides regrouped. “Do it.”
On-screen, a window appeared. It bore a single word: “Endbringer.” Cross frowned and asked, “We think this is from the wench, right?”
“It is positively from the Ruby Rain,” said Fitzpatrick.
“Damn her to hell,” Cross said. “And you’re sure that this is safely isolated, Flores?”
“Yes,” he replied
“Alright. Enter her name.”
“Indraat Vray” filled the input area, and as the last letter was entered, the image disappeared and a male voice, highly distorted and raspy, began to speak. It was unintelligible.
“Fitzpatrick,” Cross started, but she interrupted him.
“On it.”
He drummed his fingers for half a minute while she worked her console, and then the message began again. Though it was still low-quality, he could make out the words. “Human. I speak for one with whom you’ve had dealings. That individual wishes you to know that a trap, one in violation of the moral strictures the gods have provided us, is in play. If, at any time during the battle, the situation seems lost, it will be activated.”
Cross’s eyes widened in disbelief as the voice continued. “The floating fortresses will be sacrificed, wiping the battlefield clean of all upon it. This action would be entirely without honor and is beneath both of our species. If we could assist in taking this option from the table, we would. However, this message is the limit of what we can do, so the choice is yours. If your human forces win this battle, everything is lost.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Unexpected commands rang out over the command net. Okoye’s voice carried across the bridge of the Pandora, as Kate was sure it did on all the ships in Force One. “We have a new priority: commandeering the floating fortresses. Squadrons seven through nine are to encircle and defend the boarding action on the one nearest the planet. Squadrons four through six and ten will do the same against the one closer to our entrance. The Washington DC and the Cancun will supply the boarding parties for their respective fortress assignments.”
Kate drov
e her ship toward their assigned target as all the squadrons of Force One lurched into motion. Other ships swept in to tangle with the enemy vessels in the area.
“The Phoebe will attempt to jam transmissions from both of the installations. Our goal is to keep the enemy from realizing that we’re boarding, or if we cannot do that, to leave them uncertain about the outcome. Once the Marines are on board, support squadrons are to discourage any and all ships that try to approach the fortresses. The command squadron, the missile squadrons, plus squadrons one through three will continue to push forward to keep the aliens honest. Make no mistake, though, the fortresses are now our primary objective. We’ll have to rely on Forces Two and Three to handle the planetary conquest until we’re done.”
Kate activated the channel for her squadron. “Well, Cross, he certainly knows how to throw a wrench into a perfectly good plan.”
“Saint just said something similar, although he used the words ‘card game’ instead of plan.” Chuckles came from several people on the connection. He explained the message he’d received from the Ruby Rain, and all the levity left her.
“How long?” Kate asked.
“At least fifteen minutes, they say. Something about supplementing the gear they’d normally take with some extra toys. They’ll be using all three shuttles.”
“Plenty of time to scrape some birds away, then,” Kate said.
“Do feel free to indulge yourself,” Cross quipped. She pictured the expression that would accompany the sarcastic words and clicked off.
“What do you have for me, Diaz?” she asked.
Several target designators popped on the display in response. “It seems we have an enemy carrier and some escorting squadrons chasing down one of ours.”
She squinted at the screen. “Is that the Beijing?”
“Affirmative,” he replied.
“Peterson, open a channel,” Kate said, and routed her ship onto an intercept course. The image of a tall woman in the Beijing’s colors appeared in a portion of the display. “Greetings, Commander Flynn. I’m Senior Lieutenant Zuan Tai, in command of the Beijing.”
Victors Page 17