Al-shira tilted her head, her eyes considering the question. Her expression grew grim and she spoke low enough the others wouldn’t hear. “Yes, sir. If they fire, no matter how we maneuver or use our flechettes, they’re going to be able to get us.”
“I know. Unless we give them a better target.” He gestured to the Oduran dreadnaught, and she blinked. Jacob continued. “I need us to take out their communications and then be in position to scrape by the dreadnaught as close as possible. Al-shira, can you get us there?”
“You know I can, captain.” She turned to her Helm officer. “Make it happen.”
The Wolfhound accelerated, entering a storm of railgun fire as the Odurans targeted his ship with more and more railguns. Fortunately, the Helm was taking them out along the dreadnaught’s starboard flank, so the bulk of the enemy ship shielded their approach from the still-intact railguns along the dreadnaught’s port side. Range to target dropped fast, and then the Wolfhound turned to slide under the dreadnaught’s belly.
They skimmed past the dreadnaught, and the Wolfhound’s railguns opened fire. A tall, spindly tower that extended along the underside of the dreadnaught snapped apart as railgun shells streaked past the point defense turrets. Reverend Gates’ communications with the rest of his fleet was suddenly gone.
Then the destroyer twisted out past the dreadnaught’s port batteries, coming around in a maneuver so harsh Jacob thought they would run into the nearly impregnable armor along the dreadnaught’s topside. Pressure drove him back into his seat when the Wolfhound reversed her previous course, and his stomach dropped as they whirled closer to the enemy flagship. Yet the Helm managed to steady out before impact and match the drifting dreadnaught’s speed.
Jacob let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and when he looked at Al-shira she offered him a tense smile. “We’re here sir. Whatever you’re doing, do it now.”
Jacob tapped his controls and activated the broadcast frequency. It was the same one the High Admiral had used before Badger had been destroyed; every ship in the system could now hear him speak. He cleared his throat and spoke, trying to put all the determination and anger he felt into his words.
“Oduran ships, this is Admiral Jacob Hull of the Celostian Navy. I am in local command of these forces, and I have your flagship under my guns. Surrender now, and you will be allowed to evacuate the system. Continue to fight, and we will wipe you out completely. All Celostian vessels, you are to respect surrender requests as you advance. Any other Oduran ship, destroy. Admiral Hull, out.”
Al-shira coughed, and Jacob glanced at her. She gave him a beleaguered glance. “Admiral Hull? You seem to have given yourself a promotion, Captain.”
“Only in the enemy’s eyes, Commander Al-shira. Stick as close the dreadnaught as you can and watch for missile launches.” Alerts began to pulse on his projection, and he pointed. “See? It’s already started.”
Al-shira turned back to her own instruments, and her eyebrows rose. Every single dreadnaught in the main battle line launched missiles at the Wolfhound along with many of the Oduran cruisers. The number of projectiles identified by the sensors climbed quickly, and her mouth slowly fell open. “Jacob, what did you do?”
“I made us a target. The Odurans like to hit the enemy leaders, so I gave them a leader to hit.” He gave the projection a grim nod. “Get ready. We’re going to have to cut this close.”
The Wolfhound glided over the surface of the larger enemy vessel, so close only a small portion of the Oduran gun banks could target the Celostian destroyer. Those that could were hampered by point defense and by the fact any shattered fragments were as likely to hit their own ship as they were to tumble into Wolfhound. It was the kind of protection that couldn’t last forever, and was only really possible thanks to the destruction of the Oduran’s sail rigs, but Jacob didn’t intend to wait there for the rest of the battle.
All around them, missiles and torpedoes fired by Oduran craft closed in. Those projectiles outraced the inbound frigates and corvettes, streaking in with a speed that would have intimidated Jacob in another situation, but it was that incredible speed his plan relied on. He watched as the projectiles continued to close, keeping track of the remaining distance.
“Commander Al-shira, prepare to pull up and away from the dreadnaught. I want maximum acceleration on my mark.”
She nodded, and Jacob triggered his communications array, this time on the coded squadron frequency.
“Setter, Beagle, stand by to launch flechettes in support of Wolfhound’s anti-missile defense. Do not, repeat do not engage any further Oduran ships at this time.”
It was a waiting game as the ship rocked around him and the enemy missiles closed. Tension thickened on the bridge, almost palpable as the crew crouched over their consoles. Jacob hoped they still trusted him enough to do what had to be done, because there was no time for hesitation now. He waited until the first of those projectiles was mere seconds away from reaching his ship, and then nodded sharply to Al-shira. “Now, Commander, go, go go!”
The Wolfhound twisted in space, aligning itself to head to the dreadnaught’s starboard side. Its DE sails blazed as the destroyer shot sideways, swinging away from the Oduran flagship. Behind it, the railguns of the Oduran ship began to track their course, their crews intending for the Wolfhound to join Feist in destruction. He could almost imagine their contemptuous sneers and Reverend Gates’ palpable relief.
What they had not counted on was the eagerness of their fellows. Missiles and torpedoes shot past the Wolfhound, straining to alter their course to come around and hit the destroyer as it wove between them. Their momentum was too strong, however, and they shot past the ship before starting to come around.
Unfortunately, there happened to be a giant Oduran flagship directly in those missiles’ path.
Missiles exploded. Some were detonated early when their controllers realized what they were doing. Not all of them realized, and fireballs ravaged the dorsal surface of the dreadnaught. Torpedoes were even worse, streaking in at such speeds there was no chance of avoiding a collision. The kinetic energy of those weapons tore through the thick armor of the flagship as if it were tissue paper.
Alone, none of those impacts would have been enough to faze the monstrous vessel. A Banner class dreadnaught was designed to absorb incredible amounts of punishment, especially along the dorsal armor typically turned to face the enemy. Even that armor had limits, and the Oduran ship was no match for the devastation raining down on it. Rents formed in her hull, craters vomited fire and atmosphere, all while the very structure of the ship twisted and writhed under the continual beating.
When the rain of projectiles lessened, the flagship was left in shambles. Few of the remaining gun decks were functional, and those that were appeared to be shifting and twitching randomly. Air leaked from a hundred different gaps, and secondary explosions were rolled through the behemoth’s frame. Anyone who had seen the signs in other ships would be sure; the Oduran flagship was mortally wounded, and only the slow loss of air and power remained before the crew aboard her would join her in death.
Now Jacob’s only task was to make sure Wolfhound would not join her foe in destruction. Not every missile and torpedo had struck the flagship. Several had made severe last minute alterations that allowed them to curve around the ship and come back at his destroyer. Others had been launched along a better angle on his escape course. Flechettes sprayed out at those stubborn remainders, and decoys shot out in all directions as Countermeasures attempted to help Wolfhound survive the barrage.
Jacob, however, shut it all out. His focus was on the rest of the battle; Commander Al-shira could worry about the Wolfhound. He watched the Oduran forces react to the destruction of their flagship and the renewed assault on their lines by the Celostian fleet. If they managed to recover from the shock of their losses, they had more than enough ships to cause destroy the remaining Celostian ships. Even from his poor vantage point, Jacob could see how badly
shot up the Celostian dreadnaughts were, and their crews were still reeling from their own loss of leadership. The enemy had to break before the Navy did. They had to.
He clenched his fingers around the armrests of his chair, digging his fingers in against the padding. A destroyer on the left flank was struck by a volley of railgun fire and its aft was consumed by a fireball. “Break.” He whispered the word, almost without noticing it. A cruiser that had been closing in from the starboard was hit by a flurry of torpedoes, and its bulk twisted up and around as the impacts reduced it to wreckage from amidships all the way to the bow. “Break.”
The Odurans were starting to turn back, though they seemed split between attacking Jacob’s ships or facing the Celostians again. Their hesitation was costing them. A pair of frigates swinging by a Celostian Crown class on the right were struck by railgun shells and spun into uncontrolled courses. Closer by, a dreadnaught was struck repeatedly by missile fire, leaving a large section ablaze.
“Break. Come on, break!”
For an agonizing moment, his plea went unheard by the universe. Defeat began to swell up in him as the Odurans closed in, and he closed his eyes. He’d failed.
When he opened them, the projection had changed. Some of the Odurans, mostly those who were alone or crewing smaller craft, had started to break off from an intercept with the Wolfhound. A glance at the space nearby told him why. Both Beagle and Setter closed with his ship. Commander Flint’s ship spat missiles toward the nearest incoming destroyer. The Telosian ship tumbled to the side with a hole in its flank, and Wolfhound sent a flurry of railgun shells into the nearest two corvettes. As a result, even more ships turned aside from a confrontation with the trio of Celostian ships.
The attitude rippled outward. It spread through the entirety of the Oduran fleet. In twos and threes, the ships that had been throwing themselves against the Celostian fleet began to turn onto evasive courses. Some continued to fight, but they often did so alone, and their futile charges often ended in flames. Those examples encouraged even more of the Odurans to avoid combat, and the growing confusion began to shift into a wholesale withdrawal. Once a cohesive whole, the Oduran task force was rapidly scattering and fragmenting. The faster ships were leaving the slower craft behind.
Unfortunately for them, the dreadnaughts were not among those fast ships. They barely managed to turn aside before Celostian weapons tore out their DE sails. Surrounded and crippled, the once-invincible giants were now staggering and wounded, trailing burning air and broken armor plates. Many of the slower cruisers were just as bad off, abandoned by their escorts and isolated amidst a sea of vengeful Celostian warships. It was clear few of them would survive long enough to riftjump.
He watched the enemy formations continue to fall apart. None were going to close with his squadron, and a burst of relief spread through him. The grief and pain of the loss of Feist remained, but the brightness of victory kept it from crushing him as he watched the Odurans turn to run for safety, and the battered Celostian Navy sweeping up the rearguard. Those friendly ships seemed so few compared to what they had been before, and another burst of loss shot through him. Against his will, Jacob’s gaze returned to the wreckage that had been Badger and then the fragmented hull of Feist, and it was too much
As the rest of the Navy continued on their now-victorious charge, Jacob bowed his head and let the tears come.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jacob sat in the conference room aboard Wolfhound and waited for the news to arrive.
He would have sat in his quarters, but one of the many hits that struck Wolfhound during the battle had sent shrapnel screaming through the room. The breach was sealed, but most of his belongings had been reduced to broken fragments. It was another loss, a small one beside everything else the fleet had suffered, but he did not want to be surrounded by reminders of what was missing.
High Admiral Nivrosky had died with the Badger. Most of his command staff had also perished along with hundreds of crewmen and officers who had made the command ship functional. It would be a devastating loss to the Navy as a whole, not just due to the logistics of finding a new fleet command ship and replacing the personnel. Badger, as much as the High Admiral himself, had been a symbol to the fleet, and their absence would be felt for years to come.
Of course, the loss of the High Admiral carried a far more personal cost as well. Jacob shuddered when he remembered the pain in Leon Nivrosky’s voice. His friend and comrade did not allow much of his grief to show, but Jacob knew him too well to ignore what was going on beneath the surface. He knew Leon would always blame himself for not acting faster or staying closer to the command ship, and the loss of his father would continue to haunt him for the rest of his career.
Leon Nivrosky was not the only one mourning among Jacob’s friends. The crewmen and officers who had made it off Feist had managed to confirm what Jacob had already feared; Lieutenant Laurie Simms Bellworth had stayed aboard the destroyer in an attempt to hold off the bombardment for her fellow crewmen. Her body had not yet been found, given all the work the recovery crews had been given after the battle was done, but Laurie had earned herself the Distinguished Service Cross, and there was already talk of giving her a posthumous Measure of Devotion Award for her courage in the face of such impossible odds.
None of those honors could comfort the man she had left behind. Jacob had only managed to contact Isaac once over the communications network, and the hollow grief in Isaac’s voice had torn the heart from Jacob’s chest. Leon, still crippled with his own loss, reported Isaac had virtually confined himself to quarters since Laurie’s death. Beagle’s captain was circumspect in what he said over the channels, but Jacob read enough between the lines. He would need to recommend Isaac for counseling before his friend would get through the tragedy he had suffered.
At the very least, Commander Kenning would never cause such troubles for any ship ever again. Jacob had quietly recommended Kenning be honorably discharged, perhaps even with honors for his service, but never allowed to command another warship. His poor command skills had cost the lives of one too many people, and even if it cost Jacob his career, he would never see that man captain so much as a garbage scow in the Celostian Navy.
Not that he had much of a career left, of course. His subordinates had taken terrible losses, and the destroyers that had been newly repaired were once again battered and barely functional. He had no doubt whoever took the High Admiral’s place would be far less tolerant of a Captain whose orders led to such incredible losses time and time again, let alone one who had tried to promote himself during a battle. Central Command would certainly not appreciate Jacob’s continued existence as a thorn in their side, and there would be no highly placed admiral to shield him. He was finished, and he knew it.
So he waited for the inevitable message to come and for the end to draw near. When the door slid open to admit Commander Naomi Al-shira, he looked up hesitantly, wondering if she had come to bear his discharge orders personally. She saluted, a gesture he returned listlessly. “Yes, Commander? What is it?”
Al-shira’s expression was concerned. “You haven’t been answering your communications nub, Jacob. I came to check up on you.”
Jacob cracked a smile. “Thank you, Naomi. I’m fine. Or at least, as fine as I can be.” He waved her to a chair. “Tell me how the rest of the fleet is looking. Have they managed to save the Star?”
She shook her head as she fell into a seat next to him. “No. The DE sails stopped functioning, and they don’t know why. I’ve heard they’re planning on scrapping her, along with the others.”
Jacob winced. That made three dreadnaughts destined for the scrapyards, and from the look of the Seat, the number would soon rise to four. Along with the cruisers, destroyers, frigates, and corvettes the Navy had lost, it added up to a stunning number of casualties. There were already some outlets calling it the worst bloodbath on both sides in the Union’s history, and there were certainly enough dead on both sides to ju
stify the name.
He lowered his gaze to the table. “Have they set a date for the funerals yet?” The vacuum of space made decay far less of a factor for burial, but no member of the Navy would leave his comrade’s remains to drift. Not out in the dark, alone.
“No, sir.” Al-shira’s eyes were haunted for a moment. “They’re still doing recovery work right now, but the casualty estimates are in the thousands. It could take days, weeks…” Her voice trailed off, and she leaned forward. “Jacob, you did your best. You know that, right?”
A weary sigh forced its way out of his lips, and Jacob hung his head for a moment. When he met her eyes again, Jacob nodded. “Maybe, Al-shira. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.”
Her eyes flashed. Once he would have only seen anger in them, but now he could see the worry as well “You can’t save everyone, captain. You know that.”
“Yes, Naomi. I do.” His words cut her lecture short, and he shook his head. “I’m not perfect, I know that. I can’t control everything.” He clenched his hands and grimaced. “But it still hurts. It always will. So many…” Jacob heard his voice tremble, and he looked away. “I will be back to business later, Al-shira. For now, while we rest, I can mourn. And I will.” Jacob flashed a half smile at her. “As long as that’s allowed, commander?”
The question brought a small smile to her lips, and she laid a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed. “I guess I can allow it.” Then her hand fell away, and she looked troubled. “We’ve lost a lot of people, Jacob. Do you think the fleet can recover in time to keep the Odurans from taking over?”
Jacob looked away, seeing the Celostian ships explode again, reliving their deaths. “We will have to, Naomi. We have no other choice.” He returned his gaze to her. “The Odurans took their own casualties in this fight, so they won’t be coming back any time soon. As long as we hold the line against them, the Union will heal. It has to.”
Before Al-shira could respond, an ensign threw open the door and rushed into the room. He stopped short when he saw Commander Al-shira, and then saluted Jacob. “Ensign Timothy Cartwell reporting, sir.” He turned to Al-shira and saluted again. “Ma’am.”
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