by Chris Hechtl
“No,” the Captain said firmly, settling in her chair. “The destroyer?”
“Now that we're clear of everything, we're getting more information on her now. She's definitely a modified Cutlass class destroyer. Over a thousand years old, built centuries before the Xeno war. A battle wagon, heavily armored with a large boat bay midships. Her class had a lot of small one barrel turrets all over the ship covering every angle. She has only a few missile tubes, all in her bow.”
“But, I'm betting she's been refitted. Either during the war or after they picked her up,” Firefly interjected.
The sensory officer nodded in agreement. “Most likely, ma'am, sir. She has more speed than her baseline is supposed to have according to our database,” Leo said.
“So we're not certain what to expect. Her Captain is ruthless too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said quietly. They all knew what that meant.
---(<=>)---
There was no response to the hails from the newcomer freighters. The broadcast loop must have missed them with the star and background noise, or it had been jammed by the Horathian destroyer. The destroyer maneuvered on her prey, The Firefly crew felt helpless.
CIC gave tentative mass readings on the newcomers; it felt like torture to know the ship, yet be unable to save either of them. The largest ship hung back while her smaller consort tried to put as much distance between herself and the incoming raider as possible. The larger ship was large and a kilometer long, with four massive drive pods. She was fast for her age, which was a bit surprising. It was annoying that they couldn't get anything out of their warbook. She vaguely matched a Cabeiri class, but that was impossible Renee thought.
Renee felt her bridge crew tense as the Destroyer entered extreme weapons range of the helpless prey. But the newcomer surprised all involved by launching five fighters and then hitting the incoming three missile spread with defensive weapon fire. She even fired back with a pair of destroyer class grasers, wounding the Horathian.
“Captain, we're getting an IFF! She's the Io 11!” Sharif said, looking up in shock and exultation. Data streamed in as CIC confirmed she was a Cabeiri class indeed.
“Damn!”
The bridge watched the exchange of long range weapons fire. Io gave a good fight but got a little chewed up in process. She lacked missiles, so she was reduced to fending off the missiles the enemy threw at her with her point defenses and primary weapons. But the energy weapons couldn't interdict the destroyer’s energy weapons. Clouds of aluminum chaff puffed along the flank of the ship as her shields took a beating.
“Come on, hang in there,” Leo whispered. “We're coming, just hang in there,” he murmured fervently. The Cutlass landed a couple good hits, one close to the bridge. The large ship rolled as the destroyer launched a drone. The fighters immediately pounced on the drone the Cutlass had launched, tearing it apart.
“She shouldn't be doing this. It's our fight,” a rating said in the silence.
“But we're still out of range. Besides, she's holding her own.”
“Yes, but she's a tender. Seriously, what can she do?” the Captain asked. She pulled up the specs on the ship. A Cabeiri had a dozen light graser mounts and six point defense lasers. Half the weapons on the ship were reported functional by the Admiral. That meant six point defense lasers and three grasers. They had seen two grasers firing and only four point defense lasers. She had no missiles or counter missiles, but she apparently had near-military grade shields and class two military grade armor.
For an hour, then two, they watched the battle unfold in quiet. There was the occasional murmur of a report, but normally just the hushed breathing of the watching crew. Both ships kept a wary distance. Io kept rolling, mimicking the trick Mayweather used in Antigua to keep her shields evenly distributed and keep the enemy from concentrating fire on one node and overloading it. She stayed between the Cutlass and the smaller ship which had been identified as a Clydesdale class freighter. Oddly, she seemed new.
Firefly arrived on the scene as the Cutlass tried to maneuver away. “Our turn you bastards. Let's see if we can break this up. Guns, give them a spread as soon as we're in extreme range. Let's give them something else to think about.”
“My pleasure, ma'am,” the tactical officer growled, tapping at her controls.
Mayweather launched a missile spread from extreme range. Then another. The missile traces were immediately picked up by the Cutlass who scrambled to get her vulnerable stern around. She cut off her running battle with the tender abruptly. The missiles were engaged by the destroyers many point defense turrets.
“Put on more speed!” Renee urged. “Get us in there damn it!”
“We're giving her all she's got!” The chief said over the intercom.
“Then tell her to give us some more! Shovel more coal or get out and push damn it!”
“We're working on it, skipper!” Saul said.
Firefly's main grasers hammered the Cutlass as they came into range. The destroyer’s shields sparkled, but this time it was her turn to roll away, distributing the load across multiple shield nodes. The Cutlass launched more missiles which flew out of her bow tubes and then arched around. With such a long lead time on the incoming missiles they were easily picked off by Firefly's experienced crew. “I don't know why they bothered, a six missile spread?” Guns asked with a dismissive sniff. “Might as well send spitwads over for all the good it will do.”
“It's keeping us busy.”
“Captain, we're close enough to get energy readings. It's faint through the armor, but from the look of it, Tango One is maxed out. We've got excessive heat buildup in her sublight drive and weapons. She's pushed herself hard. Possibly too hard,” Leo said. “I've got some ideas on her armor, passing it to guns now,” he said.
“Well, let's see what breaks,” the Captain said, rubbing her arm rests. She looked at the file Leo had sent to tactical. The sensory officer had managed to do a metal analysis of the enemy ship, identifying potential chinks in the armor for the tac witch to hopefully exploit. Renee nodded.
Both ships continued to hammer at the Cutlass, who rolled to try to get away but was now bracketed on either flank. Firefly was larger than her though, and she kept hammering at her drive. Something broke and one drive thruster went down, a crumpled ruin dribbled in her wake. She lurched, but kept going, albeit slower.
“Damn, I see what you mean about that armor. She's thick,” the tactical witch snarled.
“Aim for the midships and her turrets. Take them out and pound on her midships. It is her weak spot,” Firefly ordered.
“I've got half our turrets on point defense. We're fresh out of drones. Missiles?” The JTO asked. Purple Thorn shook her head. They were down to 20 percent on missiles. She wasn't comfortable about shooting themselves dry. The ship bucked slightly as she took another hit. But they might not have a choice. They may have to use them or lose them shortly.
Renee's hands gripped her arm rests like a war goddess. “Are we close enough for torpedoes?” Mayweather asked tightly.
“I'm not...yes. It will take a moment for the missile crews to reconfigure the tubes and cross load,” the alien tactical officer said.
“Do it. Forward tubes only.”
“In progress.”
“Missiles firing! We have more incoming!” The JTO warned.
“Nukes...Point defense...what the hell!” Stephanie said as the nukes went off halfway between the Horathian and Firefly. “We're out of range! Did they detonate prematurely?” she asked in confusion.
“Distraction. She's trying to blind us. She's dived!” Firefly warned.
“She's expected us to plow through that or slow. Helm, change course to follow,” Renee ordered.
Someone snapped their fingers. The Captain and XO looked up frowning in irritation. “Incoming signal from Io 11. She's reporting the lower reading is a drone Captain, the Cutlass has gone high,” Sharif said urgently.
“Thank the Io for me
. Helm, get back on her,” the Captain said tightly, with a now well-known feral smile of anticipation. Soon this hunt would be over.
“Like white on rice, ma'am,” the helmsman said with a grin.
The XO opened his mouth to argue but the Captain shook her head. “Whatever works.”
“Io is moving in to intercept on Tango One's starboard flank. She's firing again. She's gotten a piece of her! Tango One is streaming debris and a cloud of atmo! We've got massive heat signatures in her bow!”
“Tell Io to back off. We don't want her getting more hurt than she is. See if her fighters can go after the other ship,” Renee ordered.
The comm rating frowned, one hand to her ear. She looked up after a moment and shook her head. “No can do, Captain, the fighters only have improvised armament and lack the fuel and life support to catch her.”
“Damn.”
“Aye, ma'am, my sentiments exactly.”
“Well, then, we'll have to settle for the main course then. Guns, I expect those torpedoes...”
The elf looked up. “Loaded now Captain. We have a firing solution.”
“Then by all means! Fire!” Renee said, fists clenched, leaning forward, teeth bared in anticipation.
“Firing one! Firing two! Firing three! Firing four! Firing five! Firing six!” the elf said, voice rising slightly in pitch before she got it under control. “All fish are running hot, straight and normal skipper. Two minutes to impact.”
The Captain nodded.
“Torpedoes in final acquisition. They are on their own and are maneuvering independently. Tango One is maneuvering to engage them.”
“Main guns. Cover the torpedoes.”
“Torpedoes activating counter measures.”
The torpedoes fired off-counter measures, decoys, and maneuvered, bobbing and weaving to prevent a lock. But they were coming in hard and fast, without attempting to maneuver outside their intended engagement zone.
One came up the stern of the craft, in the one slim blind spot of the ship, her engine exhaust. Normally a missile wouldn't survive the ion wash, but a torpedo had its own force emitters on board. The simple bot program used the shield puncher as an umbrella, weathering the storm of ions to get within range. When it did it detonated.
Its secondary force emitters caught the blast and funneled it in the direction of the ship in the millisecond before they were destroyed. The megaton blast wave tore into the thrusters, shredding them.
The Cutlass's drive cut out just as the other five torpedoes came in. One was picked off in what had to be blind panic fire, but the other four activated their force wedge to tear a hole in the ship's shields before they detonated.
Two of the torpedoes tore at the rear of the ship, buckling and gouging her armor and blasting away her stern sensors, pods, and weapon turrets. The other two torpedoes had gone off at just the right angle to hit the vulnerable midships. The angle wasn't perfect, but it was sufficient for both blasts to tear apart the thin section of hull above the boat bay that cut across the ship. That hull ripped, and overstressed, the hull below the boat bay broke. Suddenly the ship was broken in half, both halves streaming air and plasma.
“Got her!” The tactical witch said as the bridge erupted in cheers. They watched as secondary explosions ripped though the pieces of the other ship. They drifted apart, tumbling in the void. After a long minute of silent watching, her reactors let loose. Her drive section exploded in eye tearing fury.
“Damn,” the XO said softly, covering his eyes with a hand. Firefly had automatically adjusted and filtered the majority of the light out, but it was still quite bright.
“Life pods?”
“None, Captain. No life signs. She's cooked. Radiation and heat signatures are through the roof. No one could survive that,” the sensor officer said, shaking his head.
“Dispatch the pinnace to look for survivors anyway.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
“I think her self-destruct activated, Captain. That's the only explanation for her going off like that. She didn't have much munitions left,” the JTO reported.
“No way her reactors could have done it?” The XO asked doubtfully. The JTO shook his head. The XO pursed his lips in thought but didn't say anything further.
“She had at least two secondaries tied in that we didn't know about until we got close. That explains her speed and power budget.”
“I see. Write up the report.”
---(<=>)---
“Put a call in to our sneaky friend,” Renee ordered, lifting a finger. Sharif nodded. After a moment, a holo projection formed in front of her.
“Well! What have we here,” a voice cackled.
Renee smiled. She hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the gruff Captain of Io 11, but she knew her reputation. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain,” Renee said cocking her head. “Captain J.G. Renee Mayweather, Captain of Firefly.”
“Ah, my reputation precedes me. How flattering. Admiral Irons no doubt,” the old woman said, eyes twinkling. “And yours as well. We've heard good things about you and your crew. Good things young lady. You do an old woman proud. Thank you for the assist.”
“Thank you for staying alive long enough for us to come to an assist,” Renee said, smile puckering her face a bit. The other woman was definitely a character. “How is your ship, Captain?”
“Fine fine, nothing we can't handle,” the Captain said, waving a hand. She frowned though. “We have some casualties though. Fortunately, Molly is undamaged.”
“The Molly?” Renee asked. “Oh, the Clydesdale?” she asked. The Io Captain nodded.
“I'm getting a report from Io, the ship AI,” Firefly reported.
“Eh? You two crazy AIs better not be conspiring behind my back!” The old woman said mock fiercely. “Or making out or anything. I don't need any more headaches thank you! A love sick AI is the last damn thing I need!” She growled.
“No ma'am, just conferring on the damage, ma'am,” Firefly said, ever respectful.
“Well, that's all well and good. Just don't go getting all mushy and romantic. We're not going to be together long, and I've got enough love sick troublemakers to deal with here! Whippersnappers the lot of them. I'll whip them into shape if they don't shape up on their own!”
“Grans,” a voice said, sounding strained and annoyed.
The older woman looked over her shoulder to someone and smiled. “Just letting everyone know there is a limit, Emily,” she said with a smile. She had her hands resting in her lap.
“Can we send you some help, ma'am? Engineers or medical personnel?” Renee asked as she looked at the file Firefly brought up on her internal HUD. From their initial damage assessment Io had taken damage, some internal, most of it light. They had gotten off lucky.
“You'll find our medics are quite good. Clarissa and Mindy have it well in hand,” the old woman said with a bit of a twinkle. “The Admiral made certain of that.”
“Good to hear,” Renee replied with a nod.
“Besides, I bet your own people have their hands busy right now,” the Captain said.
“It's light damage mostly,” Renee replied, looking over the initial reports from the chief engineer. She nodded, feeling relief. Nothing critical was damaged beyond repair or replacement.
“Captain, Clarissa reported Shandra didn't make it,” Io said softly from outside the pickup.
Suddenly the Io Captain looked her age, terribly worn, but a rock. She looked over to the sound of someone crying softly. After a long moment, she let out a deep breath.
“Damn,” was all she said. “I'm sorry Jennie, girls.”
“What happened?” Renee asked.
“EPS conduit burst near her. She had gone down to engineering to lend a hand. The medics tried to stabilize her to get her into a stasis pod, but there was severe brain trauma. It was quick,” Io reported.
“I see,” Renee said quietly. “My condolences to her family and your crew, Captain.” She knew she had
several injured on her ship, but not how many. She'd have to check shortly.
“The crew is a family. Both crews. Such things we've gone through before; this is a terrible reminder of that time,” the Captain said quietly. Someone moved in front of the pickup; a pair of girls escorted another sobbing girl away. The Io Captain watched them go silently.
“There was another fatality, Captain. Ten casualties in infirmary, another four are still at their posts and deem their injuries minor. Nurse Mindy will check on them when she is free.”
“I understand. No doubt she's mourning too,” the gravel voice of the Captain said. Her eyes cut to the video pick up. “Please let Admiral Irons know about Shandra.”
“We will, ma'am. He will miss her.”
“I know he will. He's a good man,” the Captain said, nodding. “Are you going to go after the other ship, Captain?” Io's Captain asked, sitting back into her shawl so only her glittering eyes could be seen in its shadow.
Renee scowled. “There is no point. They've got too much of a lead on us, and we need fuel.”
“Damn. They must too though right?”
“Yes. Most likely yes. If we're lucky we'll catch up with them in Centennial. Or someone else will.”
“Hopefully,” the Io Captain growled, hand clenched into a fist over her heart. She pounded on her chest a few times as if in salute or promise.
---(<=>)---
A few days later the three ships watched impotently as the Horathian freighter escaped. Firefly and Io struck up a fast friendship. The three ships exchanged material and stories as they made repairs. Molly was named after a famous engineer of the crew, a young woman whose life had been tragically cut short on Centennial. Renee realized the crew were a bit defensive over it but insistent on the naming. She nodded wisely.
Molly was running on a light crew. They had planned to pick up additional crew in Antigua. Renee counseled a few of her people not to get too involved or to start anything beyond a friendship relationship with the members of the other crews.
“Remember, they will be moving on as will we shortly. Take it from me; you don't want to do this,” she said, feeling a little hypocritical pang over her own relationship with Vargess.