Merkiaari Wars Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Where’s Chakra?” Colgan said as Canada finally responded to the helm and heeled over. She took the single hit on her undamaged starboard shields and rolled drunkenly out of the nuclear fire boiling around her.

  “Shields holding,” Ivanova cried. “Merkiaari cruiser bearing zero-two-seven by two-seven-five degrees. Target locked. Firing!”

  Canada spat her own missiles, and changed course heading away from the threat of return fire. Colgan studied his displays looking for something he could kill. He found one.

  “Helm, new heading: one-two-eight by zero-one-five.”

  “Aye, sir. Coming to new heading, one-two-eight by zero one-five.”

  “Chakra’s burning, Skip,” Groves said from her place across the bridge at scan. “I can see escape pods jettisoning.”

  “Christ,” Colgan hissed under his breath. “Where’s Naktlon?”

  “She’s still on our tail, Skipper.”

  Colgan nodded, thankful for small mercies. Tei’Varyk was covering Canada’s damaged rear while his people struggled to repair the shield generator for that quadrant.

  “Concentrate all fire on the heavy cruiser,” he snapped and saw Naktlon was already doing that. Tei’Varyk and he thought alike.

  Canada went to maximum rate of fire on all energy batteries as she ran by the crippled cruiser. Ivanova used raking fire from her forward mounts, opening the Merki ship like a tin opener opens a can of soybeans, but she kept her starboard batteries concentrated on the ship’s drive section.

  The eruption when it happened was catastrophic.

  “Evasive,” Colgan snapped as the Merki ship disintegrated, and chunks of its hull flew outward.

  A section of drive shielding slammed into Canada, but her shields held and she continued her turn. Naktlon miraculously escaped damage as he swept through the wave front of shrapnel. Canada’s scan fuzzed and the display flickered, as her computer fought to penetrate clouds of metal and ice particles. Data denoting headings and vectors of enemy ships, constantly changed colour, flickering indecisively between the red of certainty and the amber of estimated values.

  “What’s left?”

  Commander Groves studied the battlespace her station was displaying, and then looked up from the plot grimly. “Naktlon, bearing one-eight-zero. Hoth, bearing two-zero-five. Hekja, bearing two-zero-five.”

  The bridge crew fell silent.

  “Three ships?” Colgan said in shock. “Three heavies… what about light units?”

  “Chakra was the last one, Skipper.”

  “Word just reached us from the elders, sir,” Ricks said. “They’ve ordered evacuation of the towns and cities.”

  Colgan paled. “My God. We can’t stop them.”

  Silence greeted his shock statement. Colgan studied his displays and saw three Shan heavy cruisers and Canada. They were all that stood in the way of the remnants of a Merkiaari squadron. That the Merki hadn’t sent a fleet made no real difference, or that the Shan had destroyed most of their heavy stuff. There was still more than enough firepower to take out the entire system. Four heavy cruisers, or what would be a heavy cruiser in the Alliance—who knew or cared what the Merki called them? All four had battle damage, but nothing severe. Screening them were the light units—three fast attack frigates, and two badly damaged destroyers.

  “Send to all remaining Shan ships,” Colgan said.

  “Ready, sir,” Ricks said switching his position to use the Shan equipment installed next to his station.

  “The elders have ordered evacuation of the population to more secure areas. I suggest we concentrate our ships, and attempt to break for the inner belt. If successful, we can strike as opportunity permits.”

  Ricks listened intently for a reply. “Naktlon on screen.”

  “Tei’Colgan,” Tei’Varyk said wearily. “I have spoken with the others. We will join forces and attack as soon as the Murderers are in range. I advise you to return to pick up James and the others. If you’re quick, you might escape.”

  “Don’t do this, Tei,” Colgan pleaded. “Don’t throw your life away. My people will come!”

  Tei’Varyk’s ears struggled erect, but then flattened again in distress. “Not soon enough to save us. Leave us to our fate, Tei’Colgan. Warn your people that the Murderers will come for them next. Good bye my friend. May you live in harmony.”

  The screen cleared to show a tactical schematic of the system. Merki ships burned red as they advanced cautiously toward the Shan homeworld, and three blue blips manoeuvred to engage. Naktlon moved away from where he had been covering Canada, and left her to voyage on alone.

  Colgan glanced unhappily at Commander Groves. She nodded her agreement with Tei’Varyk. “Charge the jump drive,” he ordered and winced at the looks of shock he received.

  “We can’t leave them,” Lieutenant Ricks blurted. “For God’s sake, you know what they’ll do to these people. We can’t let it happen!”

  “As you were, Lieutenant,” Groves snapped.

  Ricks surged to his feet, and slammed a fist down on his consol. “No! I say we stay and fight. We’re Fleet. Fleet fights Merki!” He stared at the others, demanding they agree, but no one did. They looked guiltily down or away, not willing to meet his accusing eyes.

  “Helm,” Colgan said reluctantly. “Set course for the third planet. We have the contact team to retrieve.”

  “Aye, sir. ETA, two-niner minutes at max speed.”

  “Very good.” Colgan turned to Ricks. “Contact Professor Wilder, and tell him to come back up as soon as we’re in range. He can dock on the fly.”

  Ricks sat slumped at his station in dejected silence, and stared at Colgan with accusing eyes.

  “You heard me, Lieutenant,” he said angrily.

  “Aye, sir,” Ricks said, sitting straighter and turning back to his controls.

  Colgan looked around at his crew, but none would look him in the eye. Didn’t they realise he had to leave, even though he might want to stay? He did want to, but Canada would be destroyed to no purpose. If he could be certain that his ship’s sacrifice would save the Shan, he wouldn’t hesitate, but he knew it wouldn’t.

  “Continue on course,” Colgan said and stared bitterly at nothing.

  * * *

  Aboard Naktlon, Shan system

  Tei’Varyk glared at the tactical situation on the main viewer as the Murderers advanced. His people were silent, having made peace with the fact they were about to die. The fleet was gone, all except Hekja, Hoth, and his own Naktlon. Fifty orbits of work gone in a single cycle, and only three ships remained to save the Shan.

  They had been so close to gaining the stars, but the Humans had come too late. One orbit earlier, just one orbit might have made the difference. He sighed into the silence, and watched Hekja and Hoth attempt the impossible. They had all agreed it was the only chance that two damaged heavy fangs had to disable the murderer’s ships, but it was a slim chance only. If it worked, Naktlon would move in with every weapon firing at maximum. If it did not, Naktlon would move in with every weapon firing at maximum.

  There were no choices left.

  “Hoth and Hekja engage,” Tarjei said into the silence.

  “I hear,” Tei’Varyk said. “We will go in with all weapons firing at maximum. Torpedoes, missiles, particle cannon, beamers—everything.”

  “I hear,” Kajika whispered.

  “Are you sorry you chose to follow me?”

  Kajika’s ears flattened. “Never. You are my Tei.”

  Tei’Varyk inclined his head, and Kajika bowed in return. He turned back to the screen in time to see Hoth and Hekja accomplish their part of the plan.

  Two heavily damaged heavy fangs entered the Merki formation at preselected points knowing they would not emerge from the other side. They went in with every weapon reaching out to rend the Murderers of their people. Heavy fangs were awesome weapons. Torpedoes spat from every surviving tube as the ships absorbed hit after hit from the Merki ships. The torpedoes were
set to lock onto any Merki target, and hundreds did that. Two Merkiaari battleships blew apart as two hundred torpedoes, each having a two megatonne nominal yield, detonated as one. Space went mad as ship after ship was rent and spat out of the nuclear fire smashed beyond recognition. Hoth blew apart from the results of her own fire. Hekja reeled, bent and broken but still under control. He trimmed course and rammed a Merkiaari heavy fang. Both ships disappeared in the flash of ruptured fusion cores. With them went a light fang.

  They had failed.

  “Three heavy fangs and two lighter units remain,” Tarjei reported.

  “Which are the most severely damaged?”

  “Both light fangs appear unable to keep pace with the heavies, but all are still combat capable.”

  “It doesn’t matter then. We kill the ships with the most Murderers aboard.”

  “I hear, Tei,” Kajika said. “Targeting heavy fang… target locked.”

  “I hear,” Tei’Varyk said and waited in silence. “Open fire!”

  Naktlon erupted in fury. His torpedo launchers went to rapid continuous fire attempting to saturate the defences of his chosen target. As the range closed, his beamers and particle cannons spoke. The Merki heavy cruiser blew apart, but even as she did, missiles infinitely more powerful than any Shan torpedo hammered Naktlon closer to destruction. Closer and closer, but finally the fire ended and he was still there. Though battered and bleeding atmosphere, he continued to pour fire into the remaining Merki ships.

  “Magazines destroyed or depleted,” Kajika reported.

  “I hear. Continue with all remaining weapons. Kill them all,” Tei’Varyk ordered, as his ship slowly died around him.

  Naktlon bucked and reared at the centre of nuclear fury sent by the Merki. He was blinded to starboard, and nearly so on his portside. His great engines propelled him into the heart of the storm to kill his enemies even as he was hammered into uselessness.

  “Take out those honourless light fangs,” Tei’Varyk said, as they pecked away at Naktlon’s armoured hide.

  Kajika did not respond, but Naktlon’s particle cannons swivelled and targeted first one, and then a second light unit. Both blew apart as energy beams designed to strip the hide from a Merkiaari dreadnought ripped through them.

  “Target the next—” Tei’Varyk began, but that was as far as he got.

  Naktlon, broken and barely making way with a single drive, was hit amidships. The beam sliced through deck after deck, killing his crew and severing control runs. His particle cannons locked and fell silent, as power cables were turned to slag. His remaining torpedo launchers, had they ammunition, would have been useless as power runs to the launch rails were cut, but by far the worst damage was to his fusion room. The beam reached the core of his reactor, and Naktlon erupted with super hot plasma eating everything in sight. Blast doors slammed and alarms screamed, but it was all for nothing.

  Naktlon broke in two.

  * * *

  Aboard ASN Canada, Shan System

  “He did it,” Colgan whispered as Naktlon broke apart. His aft section blew up in a flare of plasma, and his forward section tumbled wildly away.

  “Not quite. Two heavies remain operational, Skipper,” Groves said. “One is critically damaged. The second has moderate damage.”

  What do I do?

  Colgan stared at tactical trying to make a decision. “Time to pickup?”

  “ETA is one three minutes, sir.”

  Colgan clenched a fist and pounded his thigh in frustration. Thirteen minutes. If he picked up Wilder, the enemy would be thirteen minutes closer to the Shan homeworld, leaving him even less room to manoeuvre.

  “Set an intercept course,” Colgan said finally, and a sigh swept the bridge. “Weps, I want that piece of scrap out of my sky.” He highlighted the critically damaged Merki ship with his wand. “Do that first. Then pump everything we have into the other one.”

  “Aye, sir,” Ivanova said eagerly. “Targeting solution locked in. Time to target… two niner minutes… mark.”

  “Run a plot on Naktlon. There may be survivors.”

  “I didn’t see any pods jettison, Skipper,” Groves warned.

  “Just do it.”

  “Aye, sir. I have him.”

  “As soon as we hit the range, I want maximum rate of fire. Don’t stop until they’re dead or we are.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper,” Ivanova said.

  Canada raced into battle, and the moment arrived. Missiles flew from her, adding more acceleration to that imparted by her launch system. Merki point defence missiles and laser clusters attempted to intercept them, and Canada’s tactical display was suddenly populated with detonations. Only a third of Ivanova’s missiles made it through. Merki decoys deployed attempting to suck the missiles off target, but they could not save the first cruiser, which blew apart after only two hits by the megatonne range missiles. The second Merkiaari ship however, was almost untouched.

  Canada deployed her own decoys, and ECM hashed targeting sensors trying to blind the Merki sensors, but for all of that she wasn’t a true warship. Her counter measures and weapons were designed to hold off an attack for the minutes she needed to jump, not defeat a heavy cruiser with more than three times her firepower. Canada bucked as lasers and grazers slashed at her. Her shields held, but still she was shaken and slammed by incoming missiles. Point defence frantically beat them back, killing dozens and then hundreds, but then the inevitable happened. A missile got through and detonated.

  Canada lurched and damage alarms screamed; yet her section seals held and she continued to fight. Crewman fought to save friends trapped in the debris, but all too many died from the sudden decompression when razor sharp shrapnel careened through compartments breaching their uniform’s integrity. On the bridge, Colgan was white faced at the catalogue of damage being reported. His ship was being destroyed before his eyes, and it was his fault. He could have jumped outsystem, he still could if his displays were correct, but no, he had to be a hero and his people were paying for it with their lives. The lights dimmed, and flickered back to half intensity as something failed. He looked up wondering if this was the end, but as the lights failed completely, emergency lighting took over.

  “Report,” Colgan barked.

  “Merki cruiser badly damaged, but still combat capable,” Ivanova said. “We’re down to one more salvo of missiles and our lasers.”

  The lights suddenly flared bright again as damage control repaired the power feeds to the bridge, but Colgan hardly noticed.

  “Save the missiles until I give the word. Continue action with energy mounts.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Helm, take us in to point blank range at max. I want you to scrape the fucking paint off her!”

  “Aye, sir,” Wesley said and rolled ship.

  “Weps, give them every missile we have at point blank.”

  “Aye, Skipper.”

  “Are you sure, Captain? We’ll not escape the blast wave,” Commander Groves said.

  “We will.” Colgan prayed he wasn’t lying. “We’re going in at max. With luck we should be clear.”

  Canada bore in taking hit after hit. Her shields began to fail even as she reached the cruiser. Ivanova smashed a button flat, and Canada’s missile tubes spoke. The Merki ship shuddered and spewed atmosphere, as the missiles slammed home before any defence knew they were there. Hit after hit went home as the ship tried futilely to track Canada as she raced on by.

  One of Canada’s missiles did not launch; the power runs to the accelerator rings in the tube were down. Chief Williams, trying vainly to resurrect the shield generator for the aft quarter, was up to his elbows in circuitry when he knocked a severed cable. He jerked and bit his tongue with a yelp as the current arced through him. He survived with his hair smoking and standing straight up, his team barely survived his cursing, but the Merki cruiser had no chance. The missile spat forth and slammed into the enemy ship. So close was Canada, that the missile actually penetrated the
Merki’s hull before it detonated within the ship.

  The enemy ship erupted in nuclear fire.

  Canada was racing away, but she did not escape unscathed. Pieces of wreckage impacted her unprotected aft quarter. Blast doors slammed, but many closed upon compartments already open to space. In all too many cases, those compartments were crewed by dead men and women now. Canada rolled presenting her port shields to the wave front, and that saved her. The fury of exploding magazines and fusion reactors washed over her, but as it receded, she limped onward with two drives down, and one fluctuating so badly that it was cut from the circuit a moment later.

  “Target destroyed,” Ivanova reported, her voice heavy with satisfaction.

  “Good,” Colgan said. “Very well done, Weps. Francis, pass the coordinates of Naktlon to the helm.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Course laid in, sir,” Janice Wesley said a moment or two later.

  “Execute at best speed.” Colgan turned to Lieutenant Ricks. “Get me damage control.”

  “Aye, aye. On screen, sir.”

  Chief Williams appeared on the main viewer. Behind him, he could see space suited figures hurry by.

  “Chief, I know we have damage all over the place, but I want you to concentrate on the jump drive. We seem to have won the war here, but I don’t trust that. I want to be able to jump if I have to.”

  Chief Williams frowned in puzzlement and looked aside at his boards. “But there’s nothing wrong with the bloody…” his face flamed. “There’s nothing wrong with it, sir.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir. My boards show it as operational and charged. Have you tried it, sir?”