“Mel to Win,” she said. “I guess you've probably seen the state of my fighter. We've got to take down Arcturus, and there's no way I'm going to evade those enemy fighters up ahead anyway, so I think I'm going to have to ride this bird all the way to the deck.”
“Bail out,” he ordered. “Set on automatic...”
With a sigh, she replied, “I'm afraid that's a negative, boss. Too much flak around here for me to get more than a few meters from the cockpit, and with all this damage to my sensors, I'm getting error readings from the autopilot. I guess I'm going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Save me a seat at the bar. Nguyen out.”
“Will do, Mel. Happy hunting.” Through the chaos of the battle, he swept his hand across his sensor control to magnify the display, watching as Nguyen carefully guided her crippled fighter into position, both warheads armed and ready to detonate on impact. She was fighting a duel with her counterpart on Arcturus. The loser would get to live. And Nguyen was always a winner.
The explosion smashed into the aft engines, ripping through the hull, sending fountains of air flying into space from a hundred hull breaches, tossing the capital ship end over end at the worst possible moment, just as it came into range of Polaris' primary armament. Her firing solution was hopelessly destroyed, the enemy helmsman struggling to restore any sort of a trim.
“Grey Leader to Polaris Actual,” he said. “We've done our part. Catch you on the far side.”
“Roger, Grey Leader. Thanks for delivering our guests. We'll see they get the proper welcome. Don't talk to any strange men out there. Out.”
“Leader to Squadron,” he said. “Form on me. Spearhead formation. There are a lot of bad guys heading our way, and we need to stay clear. Watch your fuel reserves, and ride your throttles like they are your best friend. Right now, they are. And watch out for enemy fighters on the far side of the planet. We're not getting ambushed. Not at this stage.”
“Roger, Leader,” Voronova said.
Kani looked back at the ship, shaking his head at the destruction Nguyen had wrought with her final, desperate action. She might have gone down, but she went down well. And somehow, she'd never seemed the sort of pilot who'd die in bed.
Now he just had to make sure that the rest of the squadron didn't join her and Carr. Two dead in the first pass. And a hundred more fighters to follow. He had fifteen minutes at most to conjure a miracle.
Chapter 20
Gunfire rattled through the corridors as Cordova prepared to make her last stand. The ruins of the control center door offered only limited cover, a hastily gathered collection of entangled chairs providing at least the pretense of temporary safety. She glanced back at the command consoles, all depressingly dark. They were the reason that the rebel force was still alive, the enemy troopers outside reluctant to press home an attack until they could be sure that they would cause no damage to the critical systems inside.
Briefly, Cordova had considered holding the room hostage, trying to barter the safety of the equipment for their survival, but she had no doubt that the enemy commander would say anything to get them out of the room, happily betraying them as soon as they were clear. And one glance at the sensor display had suggested that there was nowhere for them to run, an entire squadron of Federation Starcruisers closing on Polaris, supported by more than a hundred fighters.
It had been a nice try. A very nice try, but she'd been reluctant to approve this mission from the start. They'd reached too far, and now all of them were paying the price. She peered down the corridor again, a pair of bullets flying over her head to slam harmlessly into the wall beyond, and watched as the troopers outside began to form up, interlocking riot shields to protect themselves from the expected onslaught, sonic batons in hand. Non-lethal weapons only, but that wasn't going to save them. They might live through the battle, but not the aftermath.
“Listen up,” she said, looking around at her demoralized troops. “We're going to go down, people. That much is certain now. We've been betrayed and double-crossed. But we can still give them a fight that they'll never forget, and take down as many of the bastards with us as we can. Dixon, plant some charges around the room. Keep your finger on the trigger, and when the enemy forces move up, hit the control.”
“Right,” Dixon said, reaching into his pockets as Cordova turned back to the blockade, risking a couple of shots as the riot squad formed up, bullets ringing off their reinforced armor, a brief explosion slamming into a hastily deployed shield, tearing the material to pieces but saving the life of the man behind it. A sonic grenade flew overhead, and for a few seconds, all she could hear was protective white noise as the debilitating device detonated, her ear-buds overriding the external inputs to prevent her falling unconscious.
That was a new trick. They couldn't kill or hurt them with those devices, but they could certainly disrupt their defenses, and as two more flew in over the barricade, she cursed under her breath. They weren't in any hurry outside. That much was obvious. Indeed, there was a strange reluctance among the riot squad to advance, one of their officers waving his hands around in a bid to urge them on.
Strange, in itself, though perhaps understandable. ColSec forces weren't really meant for front-line combat. That was reserved for the Federation Fleet and its strike teams. They were more paramilitary police, and the concept of going up against people who were ready and willing to shoot back on even terms must be causing them some doubts. Though it still looked strange, despite that. Normally, signs of weakness were frowned upon, but a full-scale argument seemed to be building between two of the officers at the rear.
“Kani to Cordova and Saxon,” the voice of the pilot said, forcing its way through her ear-buds. “Come in, please.
“Cordova here, Squadron Leader, go ahead.”
“You've got reinforcements incoming, Major. Heading for the outer ring. Should be docking in less than three minutes. If you need a path out of there, fight your way in that direction. Otherwise they'll be trying a diversion. You'll be able to contact them on Combat Frequency Two.”
“Two. Got it. What's going on out there?”
“Can't...” Kani's voice died, swamped by a sea of static as another grenade erupted close by. Gesturing at the others, Cordova urged them into a battle line, as the enemy troops finally began their advance. They'd sell their lives dearly. At least they could do that much, even if the possibility of victory now eluded them. She glanced at the rebels, wondering if they could make the attempt to break out to the reinforcements heading their way.
Saxon.
She'd have received the same message, and doubtless would have warned her friends, had them arrange an ambush for them. Evidently she'd been playing a long con, and it had worked brilliantly. Finally, the enemy forces started their advance, and she leveled her rifle, preparing to take her final shots. Before she could squeeze the trigger, one of the officers, he of the wildly gesturing arms, collapsed to the ground, clutching at his neck as blood oozed through his fingers.
Chaos enveloped the ColSec force, some of them swinging their batons at their comrades, battering them to the ground before they could react, while bullets swept down the corridor towards those still in the fight, careful shots that crippled their opponents, destroying their attack before it could begin. Running down from the far end of the passage, leading a trio of black-uniformed guards, all with white armbands hastily tied around their wrists, was Saxon, gun in hand, firing into the mass of men ahead.
“Covering fire!” Cordova yelled. “Watch your shots!”
Her force rained death from above, but after only a few minutes, it was all over, a dozen dead men on the floor, their bodies being hastily stacked against a wall by their erstwhile comrades, Saxon clapping their leader on the shoulder as she calmly walked into the control room.
“Sorry that took so long,” she replied. “I told you that some of my people would switch sides when they r
ealized we had a chance. Kani kicking the teeth out of those two cruisers out there was just what was needed.” Gesturing to the figure moving to her side, she added, “Karl Manning, Acting Security Chief.”
“A pleasure,” Manning said, with a curt nod. “I'll set up a defensive perimeter, Liz. Wise will be pulling reinforcements back from the concourse any time.”
“Do it,” she said, walking over to the panel.
“You gave me a decoy datarod,” Cordova said, accusingly. “I thought...”
“I didn't,” Saxon replied, reaching for the controls. “There's an emergency bypass control, three decks above, close to the barracks. I had to hit that first before we could take over the satellites. Took all the explosives I had.” Looking at Dixon, she added, “You'd better disarm these charges now, Sergeant. No point blowing this place up before we've had a chance to enjoy it.”
“Sure,” he replied with an approving nod, releasing the trigger with a grin. “I never set them. I don't do glorious last stands.”
Shaking her head, Cordova asked, “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Commanding officers don't need to tell their subordinates everything. It wastes time. In battle, you've just got to follow orders. Besides, I thought there was a chance that the system might work. If you'd got here quickly enough, they wouldn't have had time to engage the cut-out.” Tapping in a control sequence, Saxon brought the panels back to life, and added, “You were close, to be fair. Eight seconds faster and none of this would have been an issue.” Glancing at one of the rebels, she added, “Get on the sensors, Technician. I need to know what's going on out there.”
The rebel glanced at Cordova, who nodded, then said, “Coming up now, Major. Looks like Arcturus and Cygnus are closing on Polaris, but both of them are seriously damaged. Struggling to maintain attitude, and I don't see how they're going to break orbit. Lots of fighters heading in, though, with Canopus right behind them.”
“Firing computers coming online,” Saxon said. “Locking on to Arcturus. Looks like she's taken the most damage. Ought to be easier to take her out of the game.” Flicking controls, she continued, “Coming into range in five seconds of Satellites Nine and Ten. We should be able to take her down before she can open up on Polaris.” Reaching for the firing triggers, she said, “Manual overrides disabled, new IFF inputted. Burn, you bastard. Burn.”
Both satellites fired together, a volley of time-on-target fire that raced through space, crashing into the already-damaged hull of Arcturus, adding yet more damage to the devastation they had already suffered. Escape pods and shuttles spilled out in all directions, the crew well aware of the fate that awaited them if they remained on the doomed ship. As Cordova watched, Saxon fired again, hurling more bolts of energy into Arcturus, carefully targeting vulnerable areas. Finally, she found the oxygen reservoir, hammering into the protected core of the ship until a fountain of air ripped through her flanks, sending her into a wild, uncontrollable dive, the superstructure unable to take the hammering.
The ship died on their monitors, Cygnus having to dive to the side to avoid the impact. All eyes were on the display, Saxon throwing a control to reset the satellites to autonomous operation, now ready to fire on any ship with a Federation transponder. She turned to the silent group of rebels, red fury on her face.
“Just what did you expect? We're at war, boys and girls, and that means that a lot of people are going to get killed if we're going to win. Right now we're playing a numbers game, and they're way ahead on points. Now the odds are evened up a little, and Polaris might have a chance of living through what comes next.” Gesturing at the panel, she added, “Arcturus might have been commanded by an idiot, but those fighters aren't. They're coming in, and they're coming in hard and slow, under the firing arc. And by now, about a third of them will be desperate to avenge their dead comrades.”
“Four hundred people,” one of the technicians muttered, and Saxon waved her pistol in his face, sending the young crewman backing up to the wall.
“You want to trade your life for theirs? Bit late for that, but you could join them in Hell. They are the bad guys, kid. People we're supposed to be fighting. No time to be squeamish now, but given that you don't appear to have any stomach for the battle, you can stay here on Sinaloa for the duration. I'd rather not have someone fighting under me who thinks too hard before pulling the trigger.”
“Wait a damned moment,” Cordova began.
“We don't have any to spare!” Saxon yelled. “We've got reinforcements heading into the lower decks, and I have a feeling I know who is in command of them. I hope so. He's good. But Director Wise will have seen his shuttle coming into dock, and I'm damned sure every loyalist he's got left will be heading down there to stop them. He knows that he doesn't have a chance of living through this if he loses the station, so we've put him into a position where he has nothing left to lose. If you want to keep the death toll down, we've got to move, right now!”
Looking around at the shattered rebels, Cordova replied, “Prentiss, take command here and watch the systems. Dixon, you're with us. The rest to remain here.” Turning to Saxon, she added, “They're in no shape for another fight.”
“For once we agree. Karl, how many effectives do we have?”
“Twelve, boss. Armed and ready. And we've got more riot gear on hand for your friends.” The dark-haired man looked over Cordova, and said, “You're a little under-dressed for the occasion.”
“Suit up and join us on the lower decks,” Saxon said, racing out into the corridor. “Come on, Karl.” As the group left the shattered survivors of the siege, Cordova looked at Dixon, the burly giant looking back at her with an implacable gaze.
“She's right, and you know it.”
“I don't trust her. There's something...”
“After all of this?” Dixon said, picking up a piece of armor. “What the hell is it going to take?”
“Victory,” Cordova replied. “That's what it will take. When the Federation finally falls, I might just get around to trusting her.”
Chapter 21
“Good God,” Mike said, watching the death of Arcturus on the viewscreen. In an instant, the course of the battle had turned around, the rebel forces suddenly winning a brief advantage. Looking up at the sensor display, he saw the fighters surging towards Polaris, keeping tightly underneath the defenses. Their options were limited, but they could still tear his father's ship apart in a single salvo if they were able to make contact.
“Dozens of escape pods clearing Arcturus, sir,” Dietrich reported, gesturing at the screen. “In between us and Cygnus. I'm not detecting any sign of rescue shuttles, though. Looks like most of the pods are heading down to the planet.”
“Smart,” Kenyon replied. “Getting out of the battlespace in a hurry. That's what I'd do.”
“Cygnus coming into theoretical firing range in one hundred seconds,” Dietrich added. “Three minutes before they clear the escape pods, though. They fell a long way behind when those fighters took out their primary engines.”
Nodding, Mike turned back to Kenyon, and ordered, “Increase speed, Lieutenant. Give it everything you can. We've got to increase our altitude, but keep under the defense perimeter. Polaris will be trying for high orbit, and if they make it, the fighters won't be able to stop them. Not without being ripped to pieces themselves.”
“Wing Leader to Canopus Actual,” Duval said. “Closing for attack. We should be able to coordinate our fire with Cygnus on this pass. Request permission to target the defensive satellites. I'd like to detach Green Squadron to deal with them.”
“Approved,” Mike replied. “Concentrate only on those closed to us, though. Punch me a hole through the formation.” Glancing back at Petrova, he continued, “Find out what the hell is happening on the station, Lieutenant. Last I heard, they had the situation contained. Someone's cost me a ship, and I want his head on a platter.”
“Aye, Commander,” she said.
“Looks like a hundred and fifty-three logged survivors,” Dietrich added. “Most of them in escape pods, and they're suffering a lot of damage from the debris field. None destroyed, but they're going to struggle to get out of orbit in a hurry.”
“Commander?” Kenyon asked. “Cygnus hasn't launched her rescue shuttles.”
“That close to combat?” Dietrich said.
“Launch ours, Lieutenant,” Mike replied. “Full speed. And contact Cygnus at once. Commander Guerrero is to get her birds into the air on the double by my order.” He looked across at the sensor display, and his eyes widened as he realized why Cygnus had yet to attempt a rescue of the escape pods. Her turrets were swinging around, locking on, establishing a firing solution on Polaris. Before they could clear the escape pods. The kinetic projectiles about to race through the battlespace would tear them to pieces before they had a chance to escape.
“No!” Mike yelled. “Petrova, contact Cygnus, order them to stand down on the double! Lieutenant Mills is to assume command by my order and take that ship out of the fight!”
Dietrich frowned, then said, “We'll lose Polaris if they do.”
“Sam, if they open fire, hundreds of people will be killed. People wearing the same uniform as us. I didn't join this fleet to become a mass murderer!”
“It's war, Mike, and in war...”
“This isn't war! Not by any definition I can think of.”
“Commander,” Petrova pressed. “I can't raise Cygnus. They're refusing to accept our signals, and have indicated that they are operating under sealed orders provided by Commodore McGuire. You are apparently to be relieved of command of this ship at once, said command to be turned over to the Executive Officer.” She looked at Dietrich, his face a mask. “I'm sorry, sir.”
Mike slumped in his chair, his world crumbling down around him, as Cygnus continued to coast towards its target, preparing to launch an attack guaranteed to wipe out the survivors from Arcturus. Some of the fighters were breaking formation, racing towards Cygnus, the squadrons from the destroyed ship struggling forward to protect their comrades. More lives thrown to the slaughter. He reached into his pocket, reading again the note from his father.
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