He shook his head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered, here and now, was ambushing the enemy and destroying their ships before it was too late.
“Gateway opening,” Weiberg said. “Returning to realspace . . . now!”
Kat braced herself. Aswan was the most heavily defended system they’d visited, even if she had no intention of going within range of any of the fixed defenses. The display rapidly started to fill with red icons: a squadron of superdreadnoughts, a handful of smaller ships, a dozen industrial nodes, and repair yards . . . Aswan might be tiny, compared to Tyre, but it was clearly a formidable part of the enemy’s war machine.
“They’re scanning us,” Roach warned. “They know we’re here.”
“I would have been disappointed in them if they didn’t,” Kat said dryly. The squadron wasn’t even trying to hide. “Launch drones, then hold position.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
Kat smiled, then watched the display, feeling her heart starting to race in her chest. The enemy would do . . . what? They’d worked their way through a dozen simulations, but experience had told her time and time again that the enemy would come up with something new and unexpected. She rather suspected the enemy commander would try to send his superdreadnoughts up after her, if they were in working order, but he had to know they wouldn’t catch her. It would only make him look good to his superiors.
“The superdreadnoughts are being surprisingly slow at bringing up their drives,” the XO said through their private link. “They may be in worse condition than we assumed.”
“Probably better to give them a wide berth anyway,” Kat sent back. “They might still have all their launchers armed, ready to fire.”
“Enemy cruisers are altering course,” Roach reported. “They’re coming up after us.”
“Plan Beta,” Kat said. “Launch external missiles as planned, then prepare to jump back into hyperspace.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said. He worked his console for a long moment. “Missiles away; I say again, missiles away.”
Kat nodded, never taking her eyes off the display. Missiles were normally impossible to hide; they blazed brightly as they roared towards their targets. But missiles launched on unpowered vectors, as if they were nothing more than meteors, were a different matter. It was quite possible that even active sensors would miss their presence if they had something brighter to track.
“Drive powering up now, Captain,” Weiberg said. “We can jump back into hyperspace on your mark.”
“Hold it,” Kat ordered. It would put a great deal of wear and tear on the vortex generator, but she wanted to see the results of her plan for herself. As long as the enemy didn’t get into firing range, it was perfectly safe. “Stand by . . .”
The missiles went active. Half of them lanced towards the cruisers, locked onto their targets and angling towards them with deadly force. The other half went after the orbital facilities—Kat had targeted everything apart from the StarCom—with the intention of wreaking as much havoc as possible. Enemy point defense units went active at terrifying speed, targeting the missiles and trying to kill as many of them as possible before time ran out. Kat smirked to herself, coldly, as three missiles made it through the defenses and slammed into the industrial nodes. The cruisers might have survived unscathed—she couldn’t help a flicker of reluctant admiration for the enemy’s point defense—but at least she’d left a mark on the base itself.
“The cruisers are accelerating, Captain,” Roach reported.
“Helm, take us out of here,” Kat ordered. The Theocracy would have to stomach the damage she’d inflicted—and the fact they hadn’t managed to even target her ships, let alone destroy them. “Best possible speed.”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said. “Gateway opening . . . now.”
Kat smiled coldly as they slipped into the welcoming lights of hyperspace, then high-tailed it away from the enemy base. It was just possible the enemy had managed to coordinate an ambush, but hyperspace was clear. The squadron picked up speed, altering course so sharply that the enemy would find it hard to track them even if a ship had followed them through the gateway. By the time the enemy recovered, they would be well on their way to the next target.
“Good work, all of you,” she said. They’d hurt the enemy—and they’d collected valuable new pieces of data on enemy sensor networks. It would be easier, next time, to program missiles to slip through the defenses and strike their targets. “Adjust course for Morningside.”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said.
Kat rose to her feet. “Mr. XO, you have the bridge,” she said. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, Captain,” the XO said.
“We need to redeploy our ships to Aswan at once,” Commodore Isaac said. “Admiral, the enemy took out two small industrial nodes . . .”
“Through using a trick that won’t work twice,” Admiral Junayd said coolly. The report from Aswan hadn’t made comfortable reading, but it had confirmed his belief that the enemy fleet didn’t have the firepower to take on a heavily defended world. There was no way they would have passed up the chance to destroy Aswan and an entire squadron of superdreadnoughts if they’d had the arms. “This is not the time to lose our nerve.”
“Lose our nerve?” Isaac repeated. “Admiral, with all due respect . . .”
“They want us to panic,” Admiral Junayd said. He keyed the star chart, highlighting the distance between Aswan and Morningside. “They want us to concentrate our forces at Aswan, defending a world that is already armed to the teeth. In the meantime, they pick another target for themselves and attack, relying on the confusion of their first assault to leave us unable to stop them. No, this is no time to lose our nerve.”
“Unless the spy was a plant all along,” Isaac said. “They might have used him against us . . .”
“The attack on Aswan was annoying and embarrassing, but it was not a significant victory for them,” Admiral Junayd said. He found it hard to keep his voice under control. None of his subordinates had dared to question him before, had they? “We can easily replace the nodes they hit, nor will a second such attack do any more damage. More to the point, if that spy is actually a plant, they could have used him to manipulate us to move everything back to Aswan. We have good reason to believe he is working for us.”
“Unless it’s an elaborate trap,” Isaac said.
“Only a fool would come up with a plan that depends on the enemy doing precisely the right thing,” Admiral Junayd snarled. “We could have moved the entire fleet to Ringer”—and he knew people on the homeworld would be asking precisely why he hadn’t—“and trapped them there. Instead, we waited . . . but they could not have known we would wait.”
He tapped the table, sharply. “We will wait here,” he added shortly. “When the enemy arrives, we will engage their ships and destroy them. Do you understand me?”
Isaac held himself steady. “Yes, sir.”
And you will ready the knife for my back if the enemy is delayed, Admiral Junayd thought coldly. Do Commonwealth commanders have someone ready to stick a knife in their backs too?
“Good,” Admiral Junayd said. “Now prepare your squadron for battle. We would not like to be unready for the enemy now, would we?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Mermaid has returned, Captain.”
Kat nodded, shortly. “Has there been any major change?”
“No, Captain,” the XO said. “The only problematic issue is unusual distortions of hyperspace surrounding the double star.”
“As expected,” Kat said. “Do they pose any danger?”
“Probably not, unless we do something stupid,” the XO said. “There don’t seem to be any actual surprises . . .”
“Good,” Kat said. “I’ll be on the bridge in a moment. We’ll move in immediately afterwards.”
She closed her terminal and then rose to her feet. Morningside was odd; a binary star system that had managed to produce a habita
ble world. The primary star was G2, like Sol; the secondary star was a red dwarf. Kat had a feeling, judging from the amount of debris that had gathered at the barycenter between the two stars, that the reason the first colony had failed had been because the combined gravity wells of two stars and several large planets pulled showers of asteroids in towards the larger worlds. A spacefaring colony wouldn’t have any problems deflecting or destroying a rain of death, but a colony without any orbital defenses would be in deep trouble.
And it makes it harder to reach the system through hyperspace, she thought grimly. It may not stop anyone from getting here, but it does make it more difficult to see what might be waiting for us.
She gathered herself, then walked through the hatch and onto the bridge. The XO, sitting in the command chair, rose as she entered, then nodded towards the display. Mermaid’s report was waiting for her, focused on Morningside itself. There was little else in the system save for a handful of tiny facilities at the barycenter. Below the report, lines of text from the intelligence analysts warned that the planet seemed to be producing five or six times as much food as the population needed, even assuming each person ate more than the average citizen on Tyre or another Commonwealth world. Judging from the presence of no less than three orbital stations, it was quite likely that Morningside sold food to the rest of the sector.
Odd, she thought as she sat down. It’s rarely economical to ship food outside a single star system.
“Mr. XO,” she said, putting the question aside for later consideration. “Is the squadron ready to move?”
“Yes, Captain,” the XO said. “The squadron is fully at your command.”
“Then take us in,” Kat ordered.
Lightning quivered gently as she passed through the eddies in hyperspace caused by the binary star, just enough to make Kat nervous, then advanced towards the planet at high speed, her crew watching carefully for unexpected threats. It didn’t look as though there was anything in hyperspace save for random flickers of energy that might mark the birth of later energy storms. Kat watched the countdown rapidly tick down to zero, then braced herself as the starship plunged through the gateway. They had arrived.
“Enemy defenses are scanning us,” Roach reported. “Their planetary defense network is going online.”
Such as it is, Kat thought. She would have considered Morningside an ideal location for a cloudscoop and a small industrial base, but the Theocracy seemingly disagreed. What more did they want? They had a loyal population, a gas giant just waiting to be mined, and a large cluster of asteroids for raw materials. Her father would have considered it to be a sure thing and happily invested in the system for a small share of the return. They didn’t seem to care about building up either the industry or the defenses.
“Engage the automated weapons platforms,” she ordered. “Target long-range missiles on the stations, then transmit a warning. The stations will be fired on within ten minutes.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
Kat nodded as her squadron opened fire, targeting the weapons platforms. It was unlikely the Theocracy’s servants would abandon their posts, but she owed it to her conscience to at least try to avoid killing them. Morningside simply didn’t have the firepower to stop her and they both knew it.
Her terminal bleeped. “Captain, this is Parkinson in Tactical,” a voice said. “We believe we have located a handful of spaceports and space-related facilities on the planet’s surface.”
“Mark them for destruction,” Kat ordered after a brief glance at the display. None of the spaceports seemed to be located near the cities, which was odd, but if the Theocracy was more concerned about control than economics, it did make a certain kind of sense. “Upload the targeting coordinates to tactical, then have them taken out once we’re in orbit.”
And there’s little chance of hitting a civilian base, she thought. Everyone we kill will be working directly for the enemy.
“I’m picking up a response from the stations,” Linda said. “It isn’t polite.”
Kat smiled, unsurprised. “Tactical, take out the stations when the deadline runs out,” she ordered. “Smash them into as many pieces as possible.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
“Admiral,” Captain Haran reported, “the enemy is attacking Morningside!”
Admiral Junayd grinned savagely. “Inform Commodore Isaac that he is ordered to take us into the system,” he said. The hyperspace eddies surrounding the system would make life difficult, but the enemy would be equally disadvantaged. “And drop us out as close to the enemy as possible.”
He grabbed his tunic, then hurried onto the bridge. The report from the courier boat was already playing in front of him: fourteen enemy starships, led by a heavy cruiser that was becoming alarmingly familiar. He saluted the enemy commander mentally—woman or not, it was clear she had nerve—and then took his command chair. Dull rumbles echoed through the giant superdreadnought as she prepared to advance.
“All ships are reporting ready, Admiral,” Commodore Isaac reported.
“Take us in,” Admiral Junayd ordered. Was Isaac delaying matters in the hopes the enemy would escape, spiking his superior’s career? There was no way to know. “As soon as we arrive, open fire.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Isaac said.
“Gateways!” Roach snapped. “Enemy gateways!”
Shit, Kat thought. Nine vortexes appeared, right behind her squadron. The trap—it had to be a trap—had been carried out very well. They knew we were coming.
“Evasive action,” she snapped as the first superdreadnought lumbered out into realspace and started to scan for enemy targets. “Launch missiles at the stations, then take us away from the planet!”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said.
Kat swore under her breath as the enemy fleet emerged, its gateways flickering out of existence behind it. Nine superdreadnoughts, twenty-seven smaller ships . . . an overwhelming force by any reasonable standard. The enemy had either had a remarkable stroke of luck or someone had betrayed the squadron. She closed her eyes in pain, then forced herself to run through the tactical situation. There was no point in continuing the attack, not now. She’d be lucky to get out of the system alive.
“Deploy drones,” Kat added. The enemy ships flashed red as they locked on, then opened fire. “Ramp up our speed as much as possible, then start repowering the vortex generators.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
“Captain,” Lynn said through her implants. “I should warn you that powering up the generators so rapidly . . .”
“We’ll die if we stay here,” Kat said. The enemy might have opened fire at extreme range, but they’d fired so many missiles it was unlikely to matter. Her point defense and ECM couldn’t hope to stop them all. The only upside was that they didn’t seem to be deploying gunboats to help steer their missiles towards their targets. “Keep powering up the drives; prepare to take us out as soon as possible.”
“Point defense online, ready to fire,” Roach reported. “Datanet online; we’ll fight as one.”
It won’t be enough, Kat thought. The wall of missiles was rushing closer, far too many to be stopped even if everything worked perfectly. We’re in deep shit.
“Deploy shuttles with targeting packs,” she ordered. The enemy would catch on quickly, once they realized what had happened, but she should get at least one shot in. “And prepare to fire a full barrage. Can you ID the enemy flagship?”
“Negative, Captain,” Roach said. “They must be using lasers to coordinate their ships.”
They learned from Cadiz too, Kat thought. She looked at the enemy formation, nothing more than a crude hammerhead. Where would she put the flagship, if she were in command? There was no rear, no place of safety . . . and only a fool would place the flagship in the position where it would be most likely to draw fire. The superdreadnoughts to the left or right of the lead ship?
“Designate Enemy Number 5 as priority target, lock missile
s on her hull,” she ordered. It was a potential candidate for the enemy flagship and she might just get lucky. “Scatter a set of ECM drones among the missiles and disrupt their targeting as much as possible.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
“Fan out the second barrage, targeted on the smaller vessels,” she added. “And use the shuttles until they die.”
Roach hesitated, noticeably. “Aye, Captain,” he said finally. “Missiles away; I say again, missiles away.”
Kat winced, inwardly. She’d just sent the shuttle pilots to certain death, just to keep her own ships alive a moment longer. And the hell of it was that she didn’t know if it would be worth it or not.
The wave of enemy missiles entered attack range and closed in on their targets, a handful burning out their drives and going ballistic before vanishing from the display. Kat watched, bracing herself as best as she could, as hundreds of missiles died . . . but hundreds more made it through, lancing down towards her ships. The datanet wove all fourteen of her warships into a single unit, ensuring that not a single moment of effort was wasted or duplicated, yet it wasn’t enough. She gritted her teeth as the missiles reached their targets . . .
Lightning shook violently. Red lights flared up over the ship’s status display, then faded slowly as the datanet caught up with the results. A second missile slammed into the rear shields, sending more shock waves running through the vessel. Kat gripped hold of her command chair and prayed, silently, that they survived long enough to open a gateway and get out. There was no other hope.
“Armstrong and Mother’s Milk are gone,” the XO reported. “Checkmate is streaming debris after taking heavy damage. Mermaid’s drones drew off the missiles closing in on her . . .”
Falcone Strike (Angel in the Whirlwind #2) Page 26