Supercarrier: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 1

by Scott Bartlett

  “The Gok never waste a battle asset, and they know our mobility is confined to the moon’s diameter. Given the carrier’s relative lack of weaponry, as well as her acceleration, such a maneuver seemed likely.”

  “But the Gok have only ever bluffed a collision. Sure, their destroyers are designed to ram, but they’ve never actually committed to colliding with another ship—they’ve only bullied others into giving way, like they did to us at Larkspur-Caprice.”

  The Fin returned Keyes’s gaze with her usual calm. “I have observed a recent change in Gok behavior. Clearly, they are fully committed to your destruction, no matter the cost.”

  “Captain…” The helmsman shifted nervously at his station.

  “Wait for my mark,” Keyes snapped. “And get that viewscreen back to a tactical display, Ensign Werner.” In the meantime, he stared at the smaller display his own console showed.

  This has to be exact. If they moved to evade too soon, the oncoming carrier would simply adjust its course. Too late, and she’d hit his ship.

  He caught himself stroking the cold metal arm of his chair and stopped. I won’t let them hit you, old girl. This is not your last run.

  “Captain?” his helmsman said.

  “I said to wait for my mark!”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Now!”

  The helmsman executed the command he’d already queued up on his console, and the supercarrier lurched backward, throwing everyone against their safety straps.

  Keyes’s eyes never left the tactical display. As the Providence moved to evade, the Gok carrier did adjust its course, turning inward toward its quarry. But Keyes’s reaction was well-timed. The enemy slid past them, already reorienting for another attempt.

  “They’re going to try again, Captain,” his sensor operator said.

  “I can see that,” he barked. “Arsenyev, prepare four Banshees, and don’t let up on the solid-core rounds. We need to take out that ship. Otherwise, it’s going to catch us eventually.” He looked around at his crew. “I want silence in the CIC, unless someone has something to say other than the bleeding obvious.”

  He returned to scrutinizing the tactical display, though out of the corner of his eye he could see Werner wilt.

  I can coddle them or I can increase our chances of survival. Not both.

  Chapter 74

  Scattershot

  The subsurface rooms Husher and his platoon had infiltrated seemed mostly dedicated to communications and data storage. They were lightly staffed, defended only by noncombat personnel armed with handguns, most of who surrendered their weapons as soon as they saw the Providence marines.

  “Good call on blowing that hatch,” Wahlburg said as he returned from checking the next room. As always, he dispensed with honorifics, even when paying Husher a compliment. “Dumb birds still haven’t figured out we’re down here.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Husher said. “More likely they’ve simply chosen a battleground that favors them—a more easily defended room we haven’t reached yet.”

  “Even so,” the sniper said, glancing around the room they were currently in, which had viewscreens that showed tactical displays as well as visuals of both the planet below and the surface of the orbital platform. “These rooms seem to be getting more important. Could be we’ll find one that lets us deactivate that EMP field remotely.”

  Davies laughed at that. “Stick to what you know, Wahlburg. There’s no way they’d give us uncontested access to critical control systems. If a shutoff exists, it’ll be near the center of the platform, just like the main reactor.”

  That drew a sharp sniff from the sniper, but otherwise he acted as though Davies hadn’t spoken.

  At that moment, Caine’s voice filled Husher’s helmet, which he still wore even though these rooms had oxygen—he refused to expose himself or his troops to chemical attacks, so helmets stayed on. “Sir, we’re under heavy fire from the Wingers. I think they’ve figured out how important this ship is to our plan.”

  “That’s why I left you there, Sergeant,” he said. “I want you and your platoon to defend that nuke at any cost.”

  “I’ll try, sir. But—”

  “But what?”

  “Have you ever considered that maybe…maybe we deserve this? For everything humans have done?”

  He suppressed an urge to yell. “Sergeant, you assured me that you were fit for this mission, and yet now I hear you entertaining delusions. Was I mistaken in trusting you? Should I reassign command of your platoon to someone more fit to lead?”

  “No, sir,” Caine answered in a quiet voice.

  Something about her tone told Husher that an important part of Caine was very close to breaking. That bothered him, a lot, and not just because it could mean the end of their mission.

  “Caine…remember what you told me, back in that weapons lockers. You said we’d need you, and you were right. We do need you. And…and I need you. Okay? I need to find you waiting for me once I make it back to that ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, and her voice sounded stronger this time.

  “Thank you, Sergeant. Husher out.”

  Striving to push the conversation out of his mind, he motioned for his marines to follow him into the room that Wahlburg had just cleared. As soon as he entered a bullet whizzed by him, burying itself in the wall near his left arm and sending chips of metal flying.

  “Fall back,” he shouted, turning and shoving Wahlburg out of his way. “You said that room was clear!”

  “It was.”

  “They just fired at me from the doorway on the other side.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, First Lieutenant. It was clear a few seconds ago.”

  Wow. He actually addressed me by my proper rank. That convinced him Wahlburg actually was sorry.

  Husher inhaled slowly. “All right. They must have just taken up that position, so we need to act fast before they properly entrench themselves. Wahlburg and Siu, you’re going to provide cover fire while I rush into the room with a stun grenade. I’ll lob it through the doorway they fired from, and once it goes off, we’ll all rush in together and overwhelm them.”

  Davies was shaking her head. “Sir, you’re our commanding officer. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be the one to go in first.”

  An image popped into his head, of Caine back on Thessaly, risking herself to protect her squad. “I’m not ordering anyone else to take on this much risk. We’re also not wasting time arguing. Everyone has their orders. Wahlburg, Siu, let’s go!”

  Husher pulled out a stun grenade with his right hand and his pistol with his left. Then he ran into the room where he’d been shot at, making a hard right as soon as he was past the door.

  Firing at the doorway with his off-hand, he ran across the room to give himself a good angle for throwing the grenade. Behind him roared the staccato of Wahlburg’s and Siu’s suppressive fire.

  A shotgun boomed, and pain exploded in Husher’s left shoulder, sending him to his knees. He lobbed the stun grenade blind, even though he knew it was a desperate, dangerous move. If he missed the doorway, he’d incapacitate himself as well as the two marines he’d ordered into this room.

  He continued to fire his pistol into the doorway, looking away to avoid getting blinded by the grenade. A sharp blast told him it had gone off, and he waited a second before looking.

  The Winger who’d shot him stumbled back, blinded, clutching its shotgun to its chest. Husher leveled his pistol at its head and fired. His bullet struck home, making a hole in the center of the Winger’s faceplate. The alien fell to the ground.

  “Move!” he yelled to the others.

  As the marines rushed past him to attack the Wingers, Davies ran over to him wearing a concerned look. “Sir, we need to patch up your suit and get you back to the stealth ship.”

  “Not an option,” Husher said through gritted teeth. “Caine is surrounded, and besides, I intend to continue leading this mission.
Patch me up while I instruct my suit to start administering stims.”

  Davies opened her mouth, but Husher cut her off. “No arguing, Corporal. As you said, I am your commanding officer, and you will follow my orders.”

  She nodded. “Do you think the scattershot hit any vital organs?”

  Leaning heavily against the wall, Husher found his feet. “I’m still breathing, and I’m still giving orders. For now, that’s all that matters.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 75

  At Any Cost

  Caine ended the transmission with Husher and forced herself to make eye contact with the marines huddled near the stealth ship’s airlock. Outside, other members of her platoon traded fire with the Winger defenders.

  “What did he say?” Blackwing demanded, his ebony eyes piercing into hers.

  “He said to defend the nuke at all costs.”

  “Did you happen to mention how that’s impossible?” the pirate captain asked.

  “More or less. But…everything about this is impossible. Isn’t it?”

  “That’s not exactly encouraging.”

  “But it doesn’t matter. Whether it’s encouraging or not, whether it’s actually possible…none of that matters. Because if we can’t do it, we lose everything. Humanity loses everything. And so do you Wingers. So we have to do it.”

  “How?” Blackwing asked.

  “There are more of them, ma’am,” one of her marines radioed in. “We’re pinned here, and they’re advancing on our position.”

  “Thank you, Private,” she said.

  “What do we do?”

  Caine ignored the question. Instead of answering, she turned to Blackwing again. “What kind of guns does this ship have?”

  The Winger clacked his beak. “Guns? This ship wasn’t meant for combat.”

  “But she must have guns of some kind. Right?”

  “Twin frontal rail guns. Very small. And they’re stationary. This ship wasn’t designed like a Talon. She can’t easily turn along her axis to point weapons at an enemy. She’s completely outmatched in a dogfight.”

  “We’re not in a dogfight.”

  Blackwing paused, studying her. “What are you proposing, exactly?”

  “Are you telling me you haven’t figured it out yet, Winger?” She switched to a platoon-wide channel. “Everyone back inside the ship, now!”

  “Sergeant Caine, this is way too risky,” Blackwing said, and now he sounded panicky—or at least, more panicky than Wingers normally sounded. “To use the guns we’d have to achieve liftoff and then rotate the ship downward, tilting it to fire at the enemy. If we go too high, the platform’s turrets will shoot us down.”

  “Then don’t go too high.”

  “I’ll have to—”

  “You do captain this ship, don’t you, Blackwing?” Caine raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes,” the Winger said.

  “And you’re known as a talented pilot. So prove it. You say it’s a risky maneuver—I say letting the enemy have our nuke is far riskier. This is how we continue fighting. Now let’s get to the cockpit. Unless you want me to try piloting her.”

  Caine started jogging through the ship, not waiting to see whether Blackwing followed. When she reached the cockpit, he was right behind her.

  All over his body, the pirate’s feathers stood at attention. “Strap in, you crazy human,” he said.

  “Crazier than you know,” Caine muttered, pulling the copilot chair’s safety straps across her chest.

  Twenty seconds later, the marines were inside, and they were rising into the air. The cockpit’s main screen showed a shifting view of the orbital platform, and far sooner than she expected, Blackwing started tilting the ship downward.

  Too soon. Her nose will scrape the surface. But it didn’t. And as the enemy Wingers realized what was about to happen, they began to run.

  “Open fire,” Caine commanded.

  Blackwing did. The stealth ship’s twin railguns, though he’d described them as small, did a lot more damage than anything the Wingers carried.

  The pirate captain strafed the enemy ranks, sending spray after spray of bullets into their fleeing backs.

  To Caine, watching the enemy get mowed down as they retreated didn’t feel honorable. It didn’t even feel like victory.

  It felt like following orders. And though their mission aimed to save billions, she wondered if any goal, no matter how lofty, could ever be worth this.

  Chapter 76

  Brave Bastard

  “Madcap, Providence is in trouble.”

  “And she’ll be in even more trouble if we don’t hold off these fliers,” Fesky snapped. “How long do you think she’ll last with hundreds of Talons and Gok fighters directing coordinated alpha strikes at her? The best thing we can do for her is—”

  She cut off with a gasp as enemy ordnance cut through her Condor, entering above her head and exiting near her left boot. The interior of her fighter plummeted in temperature, and her suit fought to keep her warm. A deafening hiss filled the cockpit as the Condor depressurized.

  “Madcap, you all right? Madcap!”

  Her first instinct was to whip her guns around to blast the Talon that got her. Then the hissing sound penetrated her thoughts, scattering them, and she thought about ejecting. The flight suit was designed to keep her alive while floating in the void, but…

  But who will pick me up?

  No one. “Breathe, Fesky,” she muttered as she racked her brain for what to do. Ejection didn’t seem like a good way to continue surviving…not with the most fraught battle she’d ever experienced raging around her.

  It also wasn’t a good way to make sure they won.

  “Madcap? Did they get you? Come in!”

  Just a few seconds had passed since the hull breach. She didn’t move to retaliate. Instead, she kept an eye on her helmet’s heads-up tactical display as she rooted behind her seat for the repair kit.

  “Voodoo.”

  “Madcap! Thank God you’re okay. Why didn’t you answer me?”

  “Distracted by leaking atmosphere.” Tearing off a strip of self-fusing tape, Fesky went to work on the first hole. “Listen, Voodoo. I haven’t reacted since the enemy shot me, so there’s no reason for them to think I’m still alive. I want you to lure an enemy squadron right on top of me.”

  “Are you crazy? You’ve been hit!”

  “I’m fine, and none of my critical systems have been damaged. We have an opportunity for a tactical advantage, which hasn’t happened much in this fight. This will probably only work once, so let’s make it count, all right?”

  “Roger that, Madcap. Allow me to get our friends’ attention.”

  Keeping an eye on the tactical display, she watched Voodoo dispatch a few harrying shots at a full squadron of Talons. Brave bastard. She could see why Husher liked him. Not only was he talented, he stood ready to risk it all for victory.

  She was just starting on the second patch as Voodoo drew closer, flawlessly executing guns-D maneuvers. Encouraging words rose to her lips, but she squashed them. It’ll only break his concentration. And I need to move faster.

  Anchoring the tape as she’d been taught in flight school took up the rest of her time, and she finished just as the first Talon was passing her. She leapt back into the seat and held her breath while the next two enemy fighters rocketed by.

  Steady, Fesky. Wait for it…

  “Chew on this,” she said, with more anger than she’d expected to feel. She taxed her gyros to swing her fighter around as quickly as possible, assigning a single Sidewinder to each receding Talon.

  She ran out of missiles after nine, and then she fired a stream of kinetic impactors at the Talons nearest her. By now the enemy fighters were turning around to engage her, but they’d been thrown into total disarray, and the damage had already been done.

  Nine explosions took out nine Talons, and her barrage of ordnance soon neutralized two more. On the other side of what remained
of the Talon formation, Voodoo had come about and was performing an engine burn back at the enemy while launching missiles of his own.

  Within seconds, nothing remained of the enemy squadron.

  “Holy shit,” Voodoo’s voice screamed in her ear. “Holy shit! I love you, Fesky. I don’t care if you’re a Winger, I’m ready to marry you. That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Stick around,” Fesky said. “There’s more where that came from.”

  “Oh, shit,” her wingman said, and the jubilation had seeped out of his voice as quickly as it had come.

  “What?”

  “The Providence, Fesky.”

  She looked at he tactical display, and her mouth went dry. “Oh, no,” she said, her voice small. “Oh, no.”

  The Gok warship was colliding with the supercarrier.

  Chapter 77

  Impact

  The Providence shook as though undergoing a seven-point earthquake.

  Keyes’s body bucked in his seat till he worried whether the straps would hold. He knew they would—he’d replaced them all two years ago, with the latest in nanofabrics, which could withstand more or less anything. But the violence of the collision did not allow for rational thought.

  Members of his CIC cried out in terror and pain. Keyes gritted his teeth and rode out the shaking. It seemed impossible that his ship would survive this, and he knew the others were thinking the same thing.

  As the rumbling finally began to lessen, the CIC lights flickered and went out.

  “Werner,” he said. “Where are the God damn—”

  The emergency lighting came on, filling the CIC with a light slightly dimmer than before. Then the alarms began, and every console, every face, became awash with red.

  Keyes took a deep breath. Another. Everything inside urged him to slam his fists against his console, to give this rage a channel to get out. To abuse his crew verbally, to paint them with the blame for what had just happened.

  Then, a quiet voice spoke inside him: