“Core Three is powering up,” Mason reported. “Mr. Finch reports that it looks fine.”
“Good,” Susan said. Maybe it was just her imagination, but the lights seemed to get a little brighter. “And Core Five?”
“Held in standby,” Mason said. “She’ll be powering up soon.”
Wait, Susan told herself. If they’d missed something, if there was a damaged component that had escaped discovery, they were in real trouble. Let them take it slowly.
“Core Three appears to be fine,” Mason reported. “Core Five is powering up now.”
There was a long pause. “Core Five is only at seventy-percent power,” he added, after a moment. “The engineers are looking for the problem now.”
Susan cursed under her breath. Core Five ... they could make it through the tramline, if Core Three was working. But it was a serious problem. Any unexpected demands on their power would be enough to finish them. She forced herself to wait, even though she knew they were now broadcasting their presence to the entire star system. There hadn't been any sign that ES-13 had any remaining mobile defenders ...
Unless they were sent to ES-11, she mused. That would be bad.
“Captain, Mr. Finch is reporting a power blockage within the distribution network,” Mason reported. “He says it’ll take at least two days to fix, but we can move now.”
“And we’ll have to,” Susan said. “We just told the aliens where we are.”
She leaned back in her command chair. “Mr. Reed, take us along the pre-planned course,” she ordered. “Miss. Watson, continue to monitor local space for any sign of the enemy.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said. A low rumble ran through the ship - it sounded wrong, somehow - as the drives came online. “We’ll cross the tramline in three days.”
“I know,” Susan said. Making full speed wasn’t going to be easy, at least until the engineers had completed their work. “Hold us steady.”
She understood his feelings, but she had her reasons. She’d plotted the course herself, making sure they stayed well away from any known or suspected enemy positions. It added another day to their trip, but they wouldn't be following a predictable course. The enemy, once they detected Vanguard, would probably assume a least-time course to ES-12. It was certainly their best option if they wanted to catch a crippled battleship.
“We’re on the move, Captain,” Reed reported.
“No sign of any enemy reaction,” Parkinson added.
“And let’s hope it stays that way,” Susan said.
But she knew, deep inside, that it wouldn't.
***
If Susan were forced to be honest, at least with herself, she might have admitted that part of her envied Lieutenant-Commander Granger and Lieutenant Parkinson. Two days of sitting in the command chair, waiting for something to happen, or trying to sleep in her cabin had left her on edge. The grim certainty that the enemy knew where they were - at least roughly - didn't help. Finding comfort - and peace - in someone else’s arms would have been almost welcome, if she hadn't known she’d pay a price for it later.
And I suppose that makes Stellar Star and the Dark Star the most realistic episode of them all, she mused, as she returned to the bridge again. She was tempted to take stimulants, although she knew that would be the worst possible choice. The bar isn't that high, though.
An alarm chimed. “Captain,” Charlotte said. “I just picked up an emergency alert from our probes. A small enemy task force crossed the tramline.”
“Which means they crossed the tramline forty minutes ago,” Susan mused. Not for the first time, she cursed the speed of light delay. “Do we have a passive lock?”
“No, Captain,” Charlotte said.
Susan forced herself to think clearly. The enemy shouldn't know where they were, unless Vanguard was being shadowed. It was possible, she had to admit. Stealth mode was nowhere near as effective as a cloaking device. And if that was the case, the enemy fleet could be vectoring towards them, hidden behind their own cloaking devices. But if it wasn't the case, the enemy had about as much hope of finding them as a farmer had of finding a needle in a haystack. Even if they assumed - correctly - that Vanguard was sneaking towards the tramline, they would still have an immense section of space to search.
And they may have escaped the admiral, she mused. They came from ES-12, didn't they?
“Launch two probes,” she ordered, slowly. “If they’re trying to set up an ambush, we should get some advance warning.”
She glanced at Mason. “And sound yellow alert.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.
Susan nodded as the drumbeat echoed through the ship, then glanced at the message. Five cruisers, three destroyers and two freighters ... probably converted carriers, although it was impossible to be sure. Normally, they wouldn't have been any real threat to Vanguard, even though they could have kept the battleship under observation until other battleships or gunboats arrived. But now ... she knew she couldn't hope to power all of her weapons, not until they fixed the remaining damage. They might just have a chance to cripple her.
And there might be more battleships we haven’t seen, she thought. Or gunboats.
She waited, watching the updates from her crew. Vanguard had lost a third of her crew and it showed - reaction time was lower and some departments were badly undermanned - but she could still fight. Thankfully, the enemy hadn't caught them by surprise. But how long could they remain at yellow alert? She reached for her console and ran through a series of possible scenarios, trying to imagine which way the Foxes would jump. What would they do?
“Captain,” Jean said. “The probes are detecting flickers of turbulence, directly ahead of us.”
Susan swore. “Show me.”
A faint red haze appeared on the display, large enough to hide a hundred battleships. There was no hope of isolating individual ships, not at that range, but at least they knew they were there. And that meant ...
They must have someone shadowing us, ensuring that we couldn't escape, she thought, grimly. And that someone kept a patient eye on us until we started to move.
Her lips quirked in grim amusement. The enemy CO had to be hopping mad. Vanguard should have been an easy target. Instead, the battleship had started to move before his reinforcements had arrived. Susan had no idea if the Foxes had a god or if they believed the universe was completely random, but she could imagine the enemy commander cursing the fates. What should have been an easy target now wasn't.
“There's no hope of evading them,” she said. “Let them think we haven’t seen them.”
“Aye, Captain,” Jean said.
“And try to get a solid lock on their hulls,” Susan added. She knew it was probably impossible, but it was worth trying. It might just give them a chance to launch a surprise attack, even though they knew where she was. Blasting unsuspecting alien ships might have seemed unsportsmanlike, once upon a time, but right now she found it hard to care. Vanguard was in no state for a prolonged fight. “Mr. Mason?”
“Captain?”
“Bring the ship to battlestations,” Susan ordered. “Clear the decks for action.”
She smiled, grimly, as sirens howled through the giant ship. They might be about to die, if there were more enemy ships they hadn't seen or one of the patchwork of repairs failed at a critical moment, but at least they’d go out swinging. And she was fairly sure she could take a bite out of the alien squadron, if it got too close. The experience would teach them a salutary lesson. Who knew? Maybe it would convince them to back off.
“I don’t have a solid lock,” Jean reported. “But I’m fairly sure I can narrow the targeting down a little.”
“Hold fire until I give the order,” Susan said. The possible target zone was vast. No one, outside very bad fiction, had devised starships several light-minutes across. There was no point in wasting time spraying vast regions of space with plasma fire. “And keep trying to lock them down ...”
“Aye, Captain,�
�� Jean said. “I ...”
She broke off as new red icons flickered into existence. “Captain, the enemy ships are decloaking,” she added. “I’m picking up ...”
Susan felt her heart sink as two unexpected icons appeared behind the enemy cruisers. Two battleships. Enemy battleships. “I see them,” she said, quietly. Vanguard was doomed. She might have been able to take one battleship, but two? And the enemy cruisers and destroyers? There was no hope for either escape or survival. “Lock weapons on their hulls.”
“Aye, Captain,” Jean said.
We could surrender, Susan thought. They had the translation program. They knew how to speak to the aliens. But even if the aliens did take them prisoner, it wouldn't last. The Foxes would expect a degree of cooperation from her people that they couldn't offer. They’d be branded outright traitors, if Earth won the war. And if they captured my ship, they’d learn far too much about us.
She felt oddly calm, now that death was approaching fast. They’d been caught, but at least they hadn't been caught when they’d been a powerless hulk. And they could hurt the aliens before they died.
“Concentrate fire on the smaller ships as soon as they enter range,” she ordered. “And then switch targeting to the battleships.”
“Aye, Captain,” Jean said. Another flurry of red icons popped into existence. “The enemy carriers are launching starfighters.”
Susan glanced at her. “Not gunboats?”
“No, Captain,” Jean assured her. “Starfighters.”
They must intend to weaken us as much as possible, Susan thought. I wonder if they’re trying to preserve the battleships ...
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It no longer mattered.
“Target them with point defence,” she ordered. The enemy ships were steadily entering range, their starfighters zooming out ahead of them. Their commander wasn't even trying to maintain a CSP. “Helm, adjust our position to protect the weak spots, then alter course to keep the range as open as possible.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.
It won’t be enough, Susan thought. They presumably don’t have damaged drives ...
“Enemy ships are entering range,” Jean reported, sharply. New icons appeared on the display. “Firing ... now!”
Susan sucked in her breath as the main guns opened fire. An enemy cruiser shuddered, then exploded under her guns, followed by a destroyer. The remainder hastily started to reverse course, launching missiles that didn't have a hope in hell of getting through her point defence before it was too late. They’d clearly assumed that Vanguard was far worse off than she was ... she smirked, then sobered as the alien battleships opened fire. A second later, Vanguard shuddered as their blasts slammed into her hull.
“They’re pushing,” Jean reported. “The armour is holding, but they’re blasting away our sensor blisters ...”
“Again,” Susan said. It was a familiar pattern by now. Both sides knew too much about the other’s capabilities. Why bother hacking through heavy armour when you could take out sensors and weapons instead? “Launch missiles, aimed at their drives and turrets.”
She glanced at Reed. “Helm, spin the ship; bring the other turrets into firing position.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.
“And link us to the stealth drones,” she added. “I don’t want to risk losing all of our sensors.”
“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said. “Links established.”
Susan gritted her teeth as the bombardment grew worse, both alien battleships slamming blast after blast into her hull. They were taking damage themselves, she noted, but not enough to make any real difference. And they were trying to keep the range open, carefully preventing her from trying to ram Vanguard into one of them. She wondered, absently, what would happen if two battleships collided, then pushed the thought aside. There was no time to do anything, but inflict as much damage as she could before the end.
“Turret Two has jammed,” Mason reported. “Armour plating in zone nineteen is under heavy pressure. Damage control teams are on their way.”
“Angle the ship so we can still bear on them,” Susan ordered. Red lights were flaring up in front of her, warning that the armour was weakening in several places. Vanguard’s innards were strong, far stronger than any fleet carrier, but it wouldn't be enough. “Concentrate fire on their turrets.”
“Aye, Captain,” Granger said. She paused as new icons appeared on the display. “Long range sensors are picking up ...”
Susan stared. The alien battleships, so unstoppable a moment ago, had suddenly come under attack, heavy attack. Fire from eight other battleships were slamming into their hulls, a whole fleet of starfighters lancing past to sweep the enemy fighters out of space and wipe the enemy point defence out of existence. The alien battleships staggered, caught between two fires, then folded rapidly as they were battered into defenceless hulks. Moments later, they were gone.
“Picking up a signal,” Parkinson said. He sounded stunned. “Captain, it's the Admiral!”
“Put him through,” Susan said.
Admiral Naiser’s face appeared in front of her. “Good afternoon, Susan,” he said. “I trust we’re not too late?”
“No, sir,” Susan managed. It was suddenly very hard to speak. She'd known they were doomed. She’d known it. “You were right on time.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
For once, Susan decided as she was piped onboard HMS King Edward, she didn't begrudge the navy’s tedious ceremonies. Vanguard had come far too close to certain destruction - again - and she’d been rescued in the nick of time. She didn't blame Captain Tolliver for wanting to show off his ship and crew, even though she knew Admiral Naiser shared her own disdain for formal ceremonies. King Edward wasn't quite new, but she’d come off the slips a year after Vanguard, her construction delayed as the plans were updated after Vanguard’s trials. And yet, she smelt new. There was still a whiff of the dockyards about her.
But by the time Susan was shown to the admiral’s new cabin and a drink put in her hand, she was burning with questions that demanded answers.
“It’s very good to see you again, sir,” she said, as she sipped her drink. Clearly, Captain Tolliver’s ship had a better class of rotgut. “But tell me ... did you plan to use us as the bait in a trap?”
“If I had, Susan, I would have told you,” Admiral Naiser said. Susan eyed him for a long moment, then decided he was probably telling the truth. Some admirals loved playing power games - it made her wonder what they got up to in the bedroom - but Admiral Naiser had always struck her as honest. “It was sheer luck that we discovered that they were sending a fleet to stomp on you.”
Susan nodded, relieved. She wasn't sure what she would have done if he’d admitted to using her as bait in a trap - unaware bait in a trap - but it would probably have cost her Vanguard. The Admiralty would never let her get away with breaking an admiral’s nose, certainly not after her first voyage. They’d think she’d developed bad habits and they’d probably be right.
Admiral Naiser tapped a console, bringing up a holographic display. “The enemy squadron was dispatched from ES-11 and passed through ES-12, luckily close enough for us to get a solid lock on them,” he explained. “Given the prospect of crushing two of their battleships at minimal risk, I decided it was worth reversing course and shadowing them back into ES-13.”
“And you linked up with Commodore Hoover first,” Susan mused. “Did they have a pleasant trip?”
“They encountered nothing, beyond a mid-sized colony,” Admiral Naiser said. “We’ve marked it down for later attention if we fail to convince the Foxes to surrender.”
He shrugged. “And crushing two of their battleships will have weakened them,” he added, frankly. “It gives us an opportunity to push into ES-11 and catch them with their pants around their ankles.”
“Assuming they didn't scrape the battleships up from somewhere else,” Susan said, although she knew it was unlikely. The Foxes wouldn't
have wasted time trying to secure every system. That way lay madness - and a colossal waste of effort. “Do you have scouts already probing ES-11?”
“Yes,” Admiral Naiser said. “And we are ready to push the fleet forward once we return to ES-12.”
He met her eyes. “And now I need a honest answer,” he said. “Can Vanguard fight?”
Susan took a moment to consider her answer. “We’ve replaced two of the three power cores,” she said. “Barring another disaster, we have enough power to run our weapons and sensors. Replacing the systems we lost in the last engagement - and fitting more armour onto the hull - will take a few days, at most. After that ... well, we’re more than just a powerless hulk.”
09- We Lead Page 29