Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14)

by Christopher Nuttall

  ***

  “There’s no sign the enemy ships have detected us,” the sensor officer reported. “They’re just sitting there, waiting to be thrashed.”

  Mandy shot a reproving look at the back of his neck. The enemy might not have detected them - yet - but they hadn't dispersed their squadrons. That, at least, wasn't a surprise. Not splitting up the squadrons had been standard procedure for the last thousand years, if not longer. And Titlark was on the front lines. The enemy might not know that an attack was underway, but they’d be foolish not to prepare for the possibility.

  “Keep a sharp eye on them,” she ordered. “They’ll see us before we can get into point-blank range.”

  She forced herself to think as the range steadily narrowed. What would she do, if she detected an enemy fleet heading towards her? It would depend on the size of the fleet, something the enemy couldn't know until she dropped the cloak. A smart commanding officer would bring his ships to alert, then wait to see what he was facing. But a paranoid officer might just try to open the range a little, maybe even abandon the base. It would get him in trouble, she suspected, if his superiors took a dim view of it, but it would give him a number of additional options.

  They’ll see us when we cross the outer edge of their defences, she thought. We can't avoid detection once we reach there, if we do manage to reach it without setting off any alarms.

  “We will drop the cloak and engage at Point Alpha,” she said. It was one of a number of possible options, but it gave her the greatest flexibility. It would also give the enemy a chance to escape, which would force them to decide between landing a few blows on her ships or running. Hopefully, they’d hesitate long enough for her to land a few blows of her own. “Their battleships and heavy cruisers are priority targets.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  ***

  “Admiral,” Captain Winslow said. “I respectfully request that we bring the ships to battle stations now.”

  “Denied,” Gordon snarled. He understood Winslow’s concern - he even shared it - but orders were orders. The enemy had to be allowed to slip in closer to the base, limiting their chances of escape. “You are not to bring your ships to battle stations.”

  Winslow eyed him with utter contempt. It was the sort of expression, Gordon noted, that would probably have had other commanding officers relieving Winslow of command and tossing him through the nearest airlock. As it was ... Gordon didn't really blame Winslow for being concerned. The closer the enemy ships came, the greater the chance that they’d give his ships a mauling they couldn’t escape.

  “Admiral,” Winslow said. His tone was flatly insubordinate. “I ...”

  “Shut up,” Gordon said, sharply. He felt, just for a second, as though someone else was speaking through him. “You have your orders, Captain. Carry them out or I’ll find someone else who will.”

  He closed the connection, wondering just what Winslow would do. The man wasn't an idiot - he knew that mutiny would lead to his certain death, particularly when there was a plan. But he also knew that his ship and crew were facing an incredibly powerful enemy force. He had to wonder if Gordon was too scared to run, too scared to admit that he was outgunned ...

  ... And that Gordon’s fear might get them all killed.

  Not that he would be too far wrong, Gordon thought. His lips twitched, as though it was actually funny. Would it be better to die at enemy hands or be hung for deserting my post?

  He shook his head, looking at the display. The enemy would cross the outer edge of his sensor network in five minutes. At that point, they’d smell a rat if they weren't detected, if his fleet didn't go to battle stations. At that point, they’d get themselves ready for a last stand and hope - desperately - that Admiral Singh would come to their rescue.

  ***

  “Captain,” the sensor officer said. “We’ll be detected in two minutes.”

  Mandy nodded. Despite herself, she was surprised they hadn't been detected earlier. She was honestly wondering if the enemy had abandoned Titlark - perhaps under the impression that Thule was going to be attacked - and left a handful of sensor drones in place of the relocated warships. They wouldn't go to alert - they couldn’t.

  And if they are decoys, she asked herself, where are the real ships?

  “Stand by to engage,” she ordered. She’d find out soon, whatever happened. “Drop the cloak in two minutes.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer said.

  Mandy glanced at the status display, quietly assessing their chances. Her combined squadrons mounted more than enough missiles on their external racks to give the enemy a very bad day, even though the enemy point defence was probably very good. God knew the Commonwealth had given them lots of practice. Their heavy ships would be damaged, if not destroyed, by her first salvo. And if they did somehow manage to evade her shots, the remainder of her missiles would slam into the base.

  “Prepare to transmit the surrender demand,” she ordered the communications officer. The enemy would probably render their base and warships useless before surrendering, if they chose to give up without firing a shot, but at least she wouldn't have to kill thousands of people. “Transmit it as soon as we decloak.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Mandy silently counted down the last few seconds. The enemy should have noticed them by now, surely. She had six battle squadrons, nearly a hundred ships. None of the heavy vessels were really designed to be stealthy. It didn't quite make sense, unless she was flying into a trap. Or if the enemy ships were actually decoys ...

  “Decloaking ... now,” the tactical officer said.

  “Deploy drones,” Mandy ordered, curtly. “Prepare to engage!”

  “Signal sent,” the communications officer said.

  Mandy nodded. On the display, the enemy ships were slowly coming to life. She felt a flicker of relief, mingled with concern. Something wasn't quite right. The Wolves weren't quite as advanced as the Commonwealth, but they were very far from stupid. They should have seen her ships before they dropped their cloaks.

  “No response,” the communications officer reported. “I’m not picking up any chatter at all.”

  “Idiots,” Cobb muttered.

  It didn't make Mandy feel any better. The enemy knew - now - that they were badly outnumbered. They should be trying to retreat. Instead, they were just floating in space ... she would have been convinced they were drones if the ships weren't coming to life in front of her. She was tempted to back off, or to ask Colonel Stalker for advice, but she knew she couldn't do either. The buck stopped with her.

  “Tactical,” she said. “Are our missiles locked on target?”

  “Yes, Captain,” the tactical officer said. “We are ready to engage on your command.”

  “Fire,” Mandy ordered.

  ***

  At least Winslow isn't screaming any longer, Gordon thought, as his ships ramped up their drives and weapons. The enemy were close, but not close enough to do real damage whatever he did. We have other things to worry about.

  “Admiral,” Rupert said. He sounded alarmed. “The enemy is locking weapons on us.”

  “Stand by point defence,” Gordon ordered. Admiral Singh could have let him drill the point defence officers, couldn't she? Thankfully, most of his commanding officers had held regular drills anyway. There was a war on, after all. “Prepare to engage.”

  He sucked in his breath as the enemy opened fire. The display seemed to fuzz for a long moment as the tactical computers struggled to determine just how many missiles had been fired at them, then assign targets to the point defence network. It was an impressive salvo, easily ten times larger than anything he’d seen before the start of the war. But then, the Empire had never needed to do more than send a battleship to overawe any space-based opposition. Resistance in space had been minimal since the Unification Wars.

  Everything has changed, he thought. And nothing will ever be the same.

  “Enemy missiles will enter point defe
nce range in two minutes,” Rupert warned.

  “Return fire,” Gordon said.

  “Aye, Admiral,” Rupert said.

  “And order the base crews to evacuate,” Gordon added. The missiles would go on to blow the base to atoms, if he wasn't mistaken. Now, at least, he could try to save his crews. “And to set the self-destruct charges, just in case.”

  ***

  “The enemy ships are returning fire,” the tactical officer said.

  “Activate force shields, stand by point defence,” Mandy ordered. The enemy’s missiles looked pitiful, somehow. Three battle squadrons couldn't match the sheer volume of missiles she’d fired at them. They hadn't even had time to load their external racks! And yet, she had the nagging feeling she’d missed something. “And ...”

  “Captain,” the sensor officer said. “I’m picking up a sensor distortion! Behind us!”

  Mandy felt her blood run cold. “Evasive action,” she snapped. They’d been suckered, lured into a trap. She’d been tricked. She’d seen what she wanted to see. “Stand by to alter course!”

  And then the first enemy ships started to appear on the display.

  ***

  “Drop the cloak,” Rani ordered. “Drop the cloak and prepare to engage.”

  She took a moment, just a moment, to savour the sheer delight of luring the enemy into a deadly trap. They saw her now, too late. She’d expected - feared - that they would see her when they had a chance to evade, but now ... they couldn't escape without running the gauntlet. They might get a few ships out of the trap - the timing hadn't been entirely perfect - yet their confidence would never recover. She’d already scored one victory ...

  ... And now it was time to score another.

  “Fire,” she ordered.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Incoming missiles,” the tactical officer reported. “I’m ... I’m picking up over a thousand missiles.”

  Mandy nodded. She wanted to panic - she could hear panic yammering at the back of her mind - but there was no time. She took the panic and locked it out of her mind, then studied the display. Her ships were trapped between two enemy forces, unable to escape without engaging at least one of them ...

  And then the other one takes us up the ass, she thought, grimly. We're in trouble.

  “Force One is launching a second salvo,” the tactical officer warned. “Force Two is preparing to follow suit.”

  Mandy nodded. There would be time to contemplate the disaster later. Right now, she needed to concentrate on survival - and escape.

  “Swing ships,” she ordered. Taking the system was no longer possible, not without taking heavy - and potentially catastrophic - damage. The missiles she’d launched would inflict enough damage to force the enemy to rebuild, in any case. “Put the force fields between us and Force Two.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Alter course,” Mandy added, keying her console. Her starships were moving at incomprehensible speeds, but everything was still happening so slowly. “Put us on a least-time course to the phase limit.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Force One and Force Two will have a chance to join hands, she thought, as her ships slowly began to alter course. But that might just buy us some time to escape.

  Admiral Singh will know that, her own thoughts answered. She won’t let us off the hook so easily.

  “Deploy combat ECM drones,” she added. She’d hoped to keep them in reserve - the sooner the Wolves saw them, the sooner they’d come up with countermeasures - but her fleet was now fighting for its life. “Order the point defence to engage as soon as the enemy missiles enter weapons range.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “And prepare to return fire, targeted on Force Two,” Mandy added. “I want to cripple as many ships as possible.”

  They don't have force shields, she reminded herself. She knew the Wolves would duplicate them - eventually - but they didn't have them now. The Commonwealth still had a formidable edge. Her ships might have been trapped - they had been trapped - but she’d give the enemy a mauling they’d never forget. This time, the enemy couldn't back off unless they wanted her to escape. And that’s the last thing they want.

  “Missiles ready, Captain,” the tactical officer said.

  “Fire,” Mandy ordered.

  ***

  “The enemy ships have returned fire,” Julia reported.

  “As expected,” Rani said. The Commonwealth ships had been surprised - they wouldn't have flushed their external racks so quickly if they’d known she was there - but they were recovering rapidly. Their answering fire looked paltry compared to her huge barrage, yet she knew not to underestimate it. The Commonwealth’s missile warheads were dangerously advanced. “Order the point defence crews to stand by.”

  She leaned forward, watching avidly as her missiles flashed towards their targets. The Commonwealth ships were altering course slowly - as she’d predicted - but they couldn't get out of range before it was too late. Their ships were already starting to blur into a haze as their ECM came online - they’d improved that again, she noted - yet it wouldn't be enough to save them from a beating. Even swinging their force shields around wouldn’t help.

  We should be glad they haven’t figured out how to encase an entire ship in a bubble, she told herself, dryly. That would make the entire battle unwinnable.

  Julia coughed. “Admiral Howarth’s force has taken a hammering, Admiral,” she reported, nervously. “The enemy missiles have also done immense damage to the base.”

  “As expected,” Rani said. She’d hoped to preserve the base, but all of her simulations had suggested that the enemy would have an opportunity to wipe the facilities out before they were destroyed. “Order his remaining ships to continue to push the enemy away from the base.”

  And if they soak up fire, she thought coldly, so much the better.

  “Our missiles are entering engagement range,” Julia said. “The enemy point defence is engaging now.”

  Rani nodded. The enemy thought they only had to cope with two problems, two waves of missiles coming from two different directions. They hadn't seen her first surprise yet ...

  She smiled, coldly. The Commonwealth Navy was about to get a very bloody nose.

  ***

  Midshipwoman Maggie Dawson cursed the day she’d volunteered for ‘special duty’ as her pinnace raced towards the enemy fleet. She’d never felt g-forces in space, never felt as if the acceleration was squashing her back into her chair, until she’d boarded the pinnace for the first time. The tiny craft was little more than engines and targeting computers, with a crew compartment thrown in as an afterthought. She hated to think what the g-forces might be doing to her body, let alone the possibility of suddenly becoming irradiated if the drive field went out of tune. There were reasons most starships couldn't pull such speeds. The prospect of a catastrophic drive or compensator failure was terrifyingly high.

  You volunteered for this duty, she reminded herself, sharply. The pressure on her chest seemed to be increasing, although she wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not. There was no such thing as a partial failure where compensators were concerned. A failed compensator meant instant death. And the reward will be worth it ...

  “I have enhanced targeting locks,” Midshipman Timothy Peaks said. “The enemy ships are in my sights.”

  “Then update the missiles,” Maggie snapped at him. The pinnace didn’t look like an incoming missile. She’d been assured that the enemy point defence wouldn't target them automatically, although she wasn't sure if she believed it. The enemy would certainly target them once they realised what the pinnace actually did. “Hurry!”

  “Missile locks updated,” Peaks assured her. “You want to go for dinner tonight?”

  Maggie bit off a harsh response as she felt the pinnace shiver underneath her. She had no idea if Peaks was serious or if he was just trying to defuse the tension, but she really didn't care. The pinnace crews were bound by the same rules on fra
ternisation as everyone else in the navy, even though there was a good chance none of them would survive long enough to claim their promised rewards. Being jumped up a grade or two had sounded like a good idea at the time ...

  She gritted her teeth, watching the display update. The tiny electronic brains that told the missiles where to go simply weren't very smart. No one wasted advanced sensors and targeting systems on missiles that would obliterate themselves along with their targets, something that made the missiles depressingly easy to fool. Starships carried much more powerful targeting systems, but they had to operate at a distance from the enemy fleet or risk being wiped out. They just couldn’t control their missiles from a distance.

  But we can tell the missiles where to go, she thought. The idea had seemed a better one before she’d actually seen the pinnace. Theory told her it should work; experience told her that there were probably bugs in the system that would need to be ironed out. And we can see through much of the chaff.