Berserker (Messenger Book 2)

by James Walker

  “Very well. Engines to maximum,” Wyburn ordered. “Keep all batteries primed to obliterate anything stupid enough to get in our way.”

  Wyburn returned to his seat as the Hydra's main engines revved to full thrust, filling the ship with a roar of power and pressing him into the back of his chair from the rising g forces. Maximum burn would make it more difficult for the ships to keep their positions concealed, but Wyburn had no objections to an aggressive strategy.

  As the fleet continued its approach, Wyburn saw a distant flare on the viewscreen, reflected by a flash of radiation on the sensor readout. “What was that?” he demanded.

  “Looks like a robotic mine,” Ferrari reported. “It approached the Starfire and was destroyed by her point-defense systems.”

  “Mines?” Wyburn's stomach lurched in realization. “Cut engine output to half power and deploy the Fire Head straight in front of the ship.”

  “But that goes against Admiral Dhowan's orders,” Belloc objected.

  “Give it a minute, and I think you're going to see the consequences of being too devoted to orders,” Wyburn replied.

  There was a clang as the Fire Head, one of the Hydra's detachable craft that gave the vessel its name, broke free and took position in front of the ship. There was nothing extraordinary about the design of the Hydra's heads—boxy vessels with their own engines, weapons, and control circuitry for independent operation—but in keeping with the vessel's colorful imagery, each head was painted with a draconic face, with streams of the elemental force it was named for licking from its lips. Wyburn thought it unfortunate that this picturesque detail was lost on their enemies, since the Hydra and its heads remained perpetually cloaked during combat operations.

  The howl of the engines faded to a hum as the output decreased, reducing the vessel's acceleration. Not a minute later, the sensors exploded with readings as the lead ships sailed straight into a cloud of cloaked mobile mines. A flurry of distant explosions illuminated the viewscreen and the lead vessel's signal vanished.

  “The fleet has entered a gigantic minefield,” Ensign Ferrari exclaimed. “The Starfire has gone silent. The Promenade reports heavy damage.”

  Wyburn shot Belloc a meaningful look. She pursed her lips in response.

  “Return the engines to maximum output and alter course to follow the Starfire's last known trajectory,” Wyburn ordered. “She should have cleared out most of the mines in that area for us. Also, deploy the remaining heads and have them assume a circular formation around the ship.”

  “More readings on the sensors,” Ferrari reported. “Five... no, six more rebel ships have appeared over Chalice's horizon and are approaching on an intercept course. They have the geometric signatures of old launches and refitted cargo vessels.”

  “At least most of their ships don't seem to be equipped with cloaking systems,” Wyburn said. “Are they inside effective range yet?”

  “Not yet, Captain. But the closer three picket ships will be coming in range of our main batteries in about fifteen seconds.”

  “Good. Target the closest one with every battery and prepare to—” Wyburn stopped short as the sensor readout dissolved into a sea of static. “What happened?” he demanded.

  “The pickets have deployed a chaff screen,” Ferrari exclaimed. “It's playing havoc with our sensors.”

  “Primitive, but effective,” Wyburn snorted. “Still, we've got no shortage of ammunition. Fire control, get the best firing solution you can and unload everything we've got on the closest target.”

  The engagement devolved into a chaotic slugfest as the two fleets exchanged fire through the chaff screen, filling the viewscreen with the azure beams of particle cannons, flashing tracers of railgun slugs, brilliant explosions of nuclear warheads; and flurries of lasers, rotary gun rounds, and mini-missiles forming a defensive screen around the Hydra. Although the chaff screen prolonged the engagement by reducing the Spacy fleet's accuracy, their cloaking systems, superior firepower, and greater numbers gave them an insuperable advantage. First one, then a second rebel picket ship vanished in flashes of annihilating light, while inflicting minimal damage on their Union foes.

  The exchange of fire with the picket ships gave the rebel reinforcements time to close to effective firing range and get on the Spacy fleet's port flank. Wyburn knew that observing the exchange would enable the second rebel wave to approximate the positions of the Spacy vessels by tracking their sources of fire. He watched their incoming signals and waited until they were still one minute out of firing range.

  “Cease fire,” he ordered. “Alter course on a random heading. Keep the vectoring rockets' output below the detection threshold.”

  “But there's still one enemy vessel left in the vanguard,” Belloc objected.

  “Not worth finishing it off if it means letting that second wave peg our location,” Wyburn replied. “Leave that kind of risk to the glory hogs.”

  The instant they were within range, the second wave of rebel ships opened up with a massive barrage, then deployed another chaff screen. The Union fleet responded swiftly, altering its formation to bring maximal firepower to bear on their new foes. Since his preemptive evasion should have thrown the second wave off the Hydra's track, Wyburn had no compunctions obeying the command from the flagship Promenade for the Hydra to take its place in the new formation and join in the counterattack.

  The exchange began much as the first, with an overwhelming advantage for the superior Spacy forces. First one rebel vessel fell, then a second was disabled by a near-miss from a nuclear detonation, while the Spacy ships suffered only minor damage. Then a tremendous flash briefly flooded the viewscreen and the sensor readout let out a warning trill. Wyburn flicked his gaze to the readout and saw the notification “SIGNAL LOST” next to the Promenade's former location.

  “What just happened?” he demanded.

  “The Promenade has been vaporized, Captain,” Ferrari reported, her voice rising in anxiety. “She took a direct hit from a nuclear warhead.”

  “They took out the flagship with a lucky shot!” Belloc exclaimed.

  “Command has been transferred to Vice Admiral Yildiz on the Etherion,” Ferrari said. “New orders incoming. The fleet is to spread out and catch the rebel ships in a constricting envelopment. Close distance and unleash maximal firepower on them at point blank range.”

  “See to it, helmsman,” Wyburn said.

  The Spacy fleet began fanning out to envelop the rebel vessels. A barrage of particle beams flashed just a few hundred meters away from the Hydra, momentarily flooding the sensors with static, then the viewscreen filled with a fresh cluster of explosions off the starboard bow. Dozens of readings flashed briefly around the nearest friendly vessel, then its signal vanished.

  “The Tower of Courage has gone silent,” Ferrari said.

  “It's another minefield,” Wyburn realized. “Move the Water Head to intercept, now!”

  The detachable craft off the Hydra's starboard received the command to change position and accelerated to put itself between the incoming mines and its mothership. There was another flurry of explosions, then after several moments, the Water Head dissolved into a clump of superheated scrap.

  “Plow through,” Wyburn exclaimed. “Maximum acceleration!”

  The Hydra's engines roared to life once again as the vessel screamed through the gap in the minefield left by the Tower of Courage and the Water Head. A handful of mines rushed to fill the gap before the Hydra could make it through and detonated around the vessel, causing the ship to shudder violently.

  “Damage report,” Wyburn commanded.

  “Hull breaches in sectors seven and twelve,” came the response. “Bulkheads are sealing off and damage control is active. No critical systems are affected.”

  “We made it.” The rush of adrenaline through Wyburn's body was putting a draconic grin on his face. “Resume target acquisition and hit those cheeky rebels with everything we've got.”

  “Aye-aye.”r />
  By now, the fleet had closed much of the distance to the second rebel wave and brought its full firepower to bear on its outgunned foes. Several volleys from the Hydra managed to find a target through the chaff screen and obliterate another rebel vessel, while several other bogeys went down to concentrated fire from the rest of the fleet.

  “Looks like we've about got the situation under control,” Belloc said.

  Wyburn rubbed his chin and scrutinized the sensor readout. “I'm not so sure.”

  Belloc cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “I'm not so convinced the rebels don't have any cloaked vessels.” Wyburn waved his fingers through the holographic readout. “They've been putting out too much firepower from these two sectors. I think they've got some cloakers hidden in with the rest of their ships.”

  His explanation was interrupted by a warning trill and a mass of new readings at the edge of the sensor readout. Ferrari recited a report as the results of the signature scanning came in.

  “Several satellites from the mobile sensor net are making their way towards us,” she said. “Also, I'm picking up seven readings approaching from the direction of Port Osgow. Based on these signatures, I think they're old fuel tankers outfitted with extra boosters. They're accelerating at a rate well beyond the safe bounds for human crew.”

  “It's a suicide attack,” Wyburn exclaimed. “About face. Calculate the trajectories of the incoming vessels and send the heads forward to intercept any that are targeting the Hydra.”

  The modified fuel tankers blazed toward the Spacy fleet at tremendous speed. The Hydra's heads surrounded one of the tankers and unleashed fire on it from all sides, destroying it in a white-hot nova. Several more of the suicide ships fell to the Spacy vessels' defensive screen, but a few penetrated the barrage and detonated in blinding nuclear explosions augmented by volatile fuel tanks.

  “The Rosa has gone silent,” Ferrari reported. Then her voice cracked and she added, “So has the Etherion.”

  For a moment, Wyburn's face registered only blank surprise. Then, his experience as a battle commander caused him to perform a rapid evaluation of the situation even before his conscious mind had recovered.

  The Promenade and the Etherion were lost; and with them, Admiral Dhowan and Vice Admiral Yildiz. Wyburn was next in the chain of command—this was his show now. The Spacy fleet had only three capital ships left: the Hydra, the Ikazuchi, and the Virtuous Circle. Every rebel ship within detection range had been either disabled or destroyed, save for one picket ship that was still battle worthy. But Wyburn was as sure as ever that the rebels had at least a couple of cloakers that had lain hidden among their exposed comrades, and several satellites from the mobile sensor net were almost within range to negate the Spacy vessels' cloaking systems.

  Wyburn began issuing orders, forming a battle plan even as he spoke. “I'm taking command of the fleet,” he announced. “Relay the following to the other vessels. The Virtuous Circle is to intercept the incoming sensor satellites and destroy them as soon as she's within range. I expect her to draw fire from at least one cloaked enemy vessel. The Ikazuchi will follow her at a distance of 800 kilometers, track any incoming fire on the Virtuous Circle and counterattack. Helm, point us at that last rebel ship and get me a firing solution.”

  The bridge crew scrambled to carry out Wyburn's orders, even as they were once again subjected to high g forces by the Hydra's rapid turn and acceleration. The remaining rebel ship tried to get their position based on the propellant trail left by their engines operating at high burn, sending azure beams and railgun slugs flashing all around them. Then the targeting computer reported a firing solution and the ship's interior roared with the unleashing of its main batteries. After the third barrage, a distant flash briefly illuminated the viewscreen and the target's signal vanished from the sensors.

  “Target destroyed,” Ferrari said with visible relief. “The Virtuous Circle is now within firing range of the enemy sensor satellites.”

  Wyburn switched his attention to the progress of the other two vessels. The Virtuous Circle's main batteries opened fire, and moments later two of the sensor satellites flashed out of existence. As the Virtuous Circle prepared another volley for the third and final satellite, a barrage opened up on her from out of nowhere, lancing around her position. Then a cluster of missiles bore down on her position and the space around her came alive with flashes of defensive chaff, rotary guns, and lasers, shooting down the incoming barrage in a daisy chain of explosions.

  “The Virtuous Circle's attack has drawn fire from cloaked enemies,” Ferrari reported. “Sensor filter has deconstructed the signal data and reports two originating vessels.”

  “Track their sources, now,” Wyburn exclaimed.

  “Working on it, Captain.”

  The Ikazuchi beat the Hydra to the punch, flooding the source of the enemy fire with particle beams. Her prey returned fire as the two invisible vessels engaged in a deadly game, their crews and targeting computers struggling to get each other's positions through a screen of electronic countermeasures, all while applying rapid, minute course corrections to throw off each other's predictions. The Ikazuchi proved victorious as one of her volleys exploded on seemingly empty space instead of careening off into infinity. A missile barrage followed immediately after the successful hit, converging on the enemy vessel's location and obliterating it in a miniature nova.

  “One target down,” Ferrari reported. “And the Virtuous Circle has finished off the remaining sensor satellite.”

  “Pegged the position of that second bogey yet?” Wyburn asked.

  “Just now, Captain,” fire control replied. “Here's its estimated position and the margin of error.”

  Wyburn studied the diagram that appeared on his readout, then said, “Alter course to relative heading 315-340 and proceed at half burn. Keep the Fire Head deployed directly in front of us and the others in a circular formation around it.”

  Wyburn leaned in his seat to compensate for the sudden g forces as the Hydra turned to assume its new heading. Within moments, a cluster of particle beams lanced around the Hydra, missing her by less than a kilometer and flooding the viewscreen with light. Then came another flash as the Fire Head exploded in a ball of flame, spewing red-hot debris all around its mothership. One chunk of debris almost collided with the Hydra, prompting her defensive lasers to shear it in half so that the two pieces drifted to either side of the ship with a few dozen meters to spare.

  “Well, we know where they are now, don't we!” In his excitement, Wyburn rose from his seat with one hand clenched into a fist.

  Belloc looked up at her superior in alarm and said, “Captain, you should remain seated during combat opera—”

  Wyburn ignored her and shouted, “Heading zero-zero! All batteries and remaining heads, open fire!”

  The simultaneous unleashing of the Hydra's main weapons caused the ship to shudder so violently that Wyburn fell back into his chair. His left arm slammed against the armrest with a crack and a lance of pain. At the same time, the Hydra's three remaining heads opened fire, their volleys converging on a single point together with the barrage from the main batteries. Their unseen foe erupted in a catastrophic explosion, spewing hundreds of pieces of melted debris in all directions.

  “Thought you had us, didn't you,” Wyburn crowed, his adrenaline dulling the pain from his broken arm. “But I was too smart for you, you bastards. All you got was one of her heads. The Hydra has plenty to spare!”

  “All enemy warships within detection range have been eliminated,” Ferrari reported. “There are still numerous support vessels remaining, but they're withdrawing from this airspace at high speed. Chalice's high orbit is clear of hostiles.”

  “Have the Virtuous Circle launch her interceptors to seize as many of the fleeing ships as they can,” Wyburn ordered, grunting with pain as his broken arm began throbbing. “Then tell the Ikazuchi to capture Port Osgow and seize the control center for the mobile sens
or network. We'll use whatever is left of it to ferret out any remaining cloakers that might have tried to escape detection by shying away from the battle.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  “Captain, you need medical attention,” Belloc said.

  “That can wait,” Wyburn replied. “These rebel upstarts have made me angry. Maybe a little wrath of god will teach them the folly of tangling with Captain Wyburn of T.U. Spacy. Now that high orbit has been secured, bring in the assault carriers and have them launch their fighters to clear out low orbit and escort the dropships to their landing objectives. While we're at it, the Hydra and our remaining heads will fly at low orbit over the drop zones and bombard the ever-loving hell out of any enemy ground forces too stupid to disband and scatter into the woods.”

  “Ah... aye-aye, Captain.”

  As the entire fleet scrambled to carry out his orders, Wyburn let out a sigh of satisfaction and sank deeper into his captain's chair. It was unfortunate that the Spacy task force had suffered so many losses, including the supreme commander and second in command; but with the rebel fleet annihilated, there was nothing left to resist the remnants of the Reclamation Expedition. Now Wyburn was effectively lord and master of all the space around Chalice, and the Hydra was his throne.

  This was his ocean now.

  *

  Omega sat suspended in zero-g, pinned to the seat of his exosuit by his restraints. His eyes were closed; his mind was clear and calm even as frenzied reports of the battle's progress crackled over his comm. The operation to reclaim Chalice, to save all of Thera, was to be his first action. Strange then, how he felt no fear. Only a sense of anticipatory serenity, waiting for his role in the great reclamation to begin.

  Mere weeks after his graduation from the Soldier Augmentation Laboratory in Theran orbit, Omega had been assigned to the Reclamation Expedition. Almost everyone else on the expedition was a combat veteran, but apparently his flawless performance in simulations and mock battles had impressed someone high in the chain of command.