Blood on the Stars Collection 1

by Jay Allan

  “Captain, I’m picking up energy spikes from…”

  Dauntless lurched hard.

  “Hit amidships, sir.” Travis had her head buried in her scope, tracking the data as soon as it came in. “A laser of some sort, sir. Higher powered than our secondaries for sure, but if that’s what they’ve got as primary weapons…”

  “Before you get excited, Commander, remember we don’t have any primaries now. So, whatever they have is just one more advantage to them, at least for the moment.”

  Fritzie…

  Barron leaned back in his chair. He’d be able to return fire in just over a minute. But that could be a long time…

  He was counting off the seconds, his eyes angled down toward the countdown clock. He knew the battle could be lost, even if his people were able to return fire. Dauntless was already wounded, and the Alliance ship didn’t have a scratch. But he’d rather go down fighting than die helplessly, like some kind of prey.

  Suddenly the ship shook uncontrollably, far harder than it had from any of the other hits. The bridge spun around, and Barron felt the gravity vector changing wildly. One instant he felt as though he was suspended off the ground, only his harness keeping him from falling into the ceiling. Then the ship felt like it was sideways. His body slammed one way and then the next, and each time the straps dug into him hard, exacerbating his injuries.

  He gasped for breath, trying to hide the wince as he filled his tortured chest with air. There was no point in allowing anyone to see him in pain. Not now. He could have been bleeding from a dozen bullet wounds, and he wouldn’t have left the bridge.

  “They seem to have some kind of broadside, sir. It looks like ten batteries…from their port side. I think seven of them hit. It looks like we may have gotten lucky.”

  Barron sat, listening to his first officer, just glad for the moment that the grav stabilizers had kicked back in and returned the bridge to it normal orientation. Still, he might have suggested a word other than, “lucky.”

  “We took several hits near the storage holds, sir. There’s heavy damage to outer compartments, but it looks like the reactor is still operating in excess of ninety percent, and I don’t think they came anywhere near the primaries.”

  Barron nodded. That was good news. A bit more speculation than he liked to rely on, but he wasn’t going to interrupt Fritz again for another update.

  “Evasive maneuvers, Commander. Randomization plan Delta-four.”

  “Yes, sir. Delta-four.”

  Dauntless lurched forward, thrusting at ten percent or so for perhaps ten seconds. Then her thrust stopped abruptly as the positioning jets swung the ship around and engaged the engines along a completely different course.

  The ship shook again, far more softly this time.

  “Just two hits, sir. I think the maneuvers threw them.”

  Barron smiled. The enemy captain had proven to be a skillful adversary, one who had gained the upper hand early. But Tyler Barron wasn’t out of tricks yet.

  “Suspend evasive maneuvers…bring us around to firing position.” His eyes watched the final seconds counting down.

  The bridge was almost silent, just the normal hum of the reactor in the background. Travis’s hands moved quickly over her workstation. Then she turned back toward Barron. “In position, sir. All batteries ready.”

  Barron watched the numbers changing. Five…four…three…two…one…zero.

  “All batteries…open fire.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AS Invictus

  5,000,000 kilometers from Santis, Krillus IV

  Alliance Year 58 (307 AC)

  “Laser batteries, Commander. Scanners suggest mostly triple turreted laser cannon. Not as strong as our primaries, but the area of effect appears to be larger, particularly if all three linked beams hit.”

  Kat took a deep breath. She’d kept the battle one-sided for as long as she could, used her tactical ability to inflict damage on the enemy while keeping Invictus untouched.

  Well, untouched except for my ravaged fighter squadrons…

  But now she had bigger concerns. The enemy had opened fire…and damage reports were flooding in from all decks. This fight is going to be a slugfest now.

  Fighters existed to take risks, to keep the fight away from the mothership. That was cold math, but everyone who stepped into a cockpit knew they were accepting a level of expendability beyond that of their shipboard comrades. The long term survival rates for pilots were abysmal, and even in a military society like the Alliance, the service attracted a certain type of recruit. Brave, certainly, but also at least a little bit crazy.

  She stared down at the screen, at the scanning data coming in. The enemy had fired six triple turrets and two doubles. That was twenty-two laser blasts. And seventeen of them had hit. That was outstanding shooting by any measure, a performance that would make any Alliance commander proud. But she’d never seen such efficiency in an enemy before now.

  This enemy battleship was battling her tooth and nail, despite the fact that she had gained the early advantage. The enemy vessel could have run right back through the transwarp link, abandoning their tiny colony and its handful of ground troops. But instead, she’d watched as the Confederation fighter pilots fought her own veteran pilots to a bloody stalemate with nearly suicidal bravery.

  Her stomach was crunched into a knot, and she could feel the tension in every muscle of her body. She didn’t know what the enemy’s courage and skills were like overall, but she’d made her decision about this captain and this ship. Her counterpart was dangerous, far more so than any opponent she’d yet faced in her unblemished career, and she suspected his crew was no less capable. They were not to be trifled with. She had to destroy them, before they did the same to her.

  “Increase power flow to batteries, Commander. Twenty percent above maximum. And have damage control on standby to replace burnouts.”

  “Yes, Commander. Immediately.”

  “Secondary batteries are to open fire as soon as we enter range. Advise engineering we’re going to need extra power from the reactor. I want all weapons firing full, and I hold engineering responsible for making sure there is enough power flow.”

  “Yes, Commander Rigellus.”

  Kat could hear the high-pitched whine in the background, Invictus’s main lasers firing again. There was a variation in the sound, one few people would have noticed. But Kat was well aware what it was. One of her batteries was out, damaged by the enemy barrage.

  She listened yet again as Invictus fired another broadside, the sounds changing once more, higher-pitched this time as her crews overloaded their lasers, pumping extra power into their ravening beams. It was a dangerous tactic, but Invictus was only going to be in firing range for less than six minutes…and she wanted to cripple the enemy in that time. She’d have to decelerate hard before she could bring her ship about for another attack, and that would give the enemy time to react. Unless she hurt them enough now.

  “Commander, gunnery reports the batteries are heating up past regulation firing levels. They request permission to…”

  “Maintain firing at one twenty on the power, Optiomagis. All batteries continue at maximum rate of fire.

  “Yes, sir,” Wentus replied, a hint of concern in his voice.

  There would be plenty of time to repair burnouts when Invictus was decelerating, but now she intended to pour every watt of power she could into her enemy.

  While she had the chance……

  * * *

  “Heavy damage to sections beta-four through gamma eleven. Multiple starboard hull ruptures. All compromised sections have been cut off, and…” Travis hesitated, her tone darkening. “Casualty estimates in excess of eighty, sir…including twenty-four missing in the ruptured sections.” Another pause. “That figure does not include losses already suffered by the fighter wing…”

  Barron nodded slowly. “Very well, Commander.” He struggled to keep his voice stern, unaffected. He ached for the hundr
ed plus dead among his crew and fighter squadrons, and for the dozens more wounded. But he had almost ten times that number alive, still fighting. He could save them, bring them through this battle. There was nothing he could do for the dead.

  “Captain, the enemy vessel is entering point blank range.”

  Barron sucked in a deep breath. The enemy’s lasers would really start to tear Dauntless apart at this distance. The hits suffered so far had been relatively weak, the power of the laser blasts severely attenuated by distance. But now every hit would rip through his vessel’s hull, tearing apart vital systems, and killing more of his people.

  He glared forward, a determined scowl onto his face. Everything he had just considered was true…and it worked both ways. His own shots would be deadlier as well. The enemy vessel had escaped any damage in the earlier stages of the engagement, but now his beams were ripping into its hull. He knew he was killing spacers there, as surely as his own people were dying. Barron wasn’t a bloodthirsty man, but now anger drove him, hatred for this invader, attacking his ship, killing his crew. He felt the need to destroy them, whatever the cost. And though he wasn’t proud of it, the thought of his enemies being blown to bits or sucked out of rents in their hull and into space put a small grin on his face. He’d never felt this way before, as though some dark aspect of himself, one he hadn’t known existed, was emerging and taking control.

  “Bring us around, Commander. I want the port-angled guns brought to bear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dauntless’s positioning thrusters were spinning the ship around, moving its battered starboard side from the enemy’s fire arc…and bringing the previously unfired port guns to bear. Barron was protecting his wounded side, and committing fresh batteries while he cooled his superheated guns on the starboard.

  He listened as the fresh guns opened fire, sending megawatt-powered beams of focused light toward the enemy. Dauntless’s secondaries were powerful weapons, but he knew they wouldn’t be enough.

  If only I had the primaries…

  The main enemy lasers were stronger still than Dauntless’s, and now their fire was joined by that of their own secondaries. Dauntless shook as hit after hit slammed into her battered hull, each impact inflicting terrible damage and killing more of his people.

  He stared at the screen, watching as the AI updated damage assessments from the enemy vessel. It was an imperfect list, just scanner data interpreted by a computer. There was no real way for him to know what was happening over there. But if the assessments were close to the mark, the deadly accuracy of his gunners had come at least fairly close to evening the score in the fight.

  He didn’t need estimates and assessments to know that the enemy’s fire had weakened, that several of their batteries had been silenced. But Dauntless had been hit hard too. The immense battleship was riddled with great tears in her hull. His damage control crews had worked miracles keeping as many systems online as they had, but Barron knew it was only a matter of time before even miracles would be inadequate.

  “All batteries, maintain maximum fire.” He tried to keep the frustration from his voice, realizing his efforts had been woefully inadequate. He had nothing else to say, though, no words to offer but a renewed order for his people to keep shooting. He wracked his mind, trying to think of some tactic that might give him an edge, but at this range there was nothing for the combatants to do but pound away at each other, and hope to inflict more damage than they sustained. Somehow.

  “Captain…” Fritz’s voice came through his headset. The engineer’s voice was hoarse, the tension and exhaustion clearly evident in each forced word. “We’ve got the primaries online, sir…but it won’t last. Reactor A is on the verge of a meltdown, and B is even worse. I’ve got to cut to fifty percent power or we’re going to lose both of them…and maybe the whole ship if I can’t maintain containment. I can give you thirty seconds, sir, maybe forty-five. But you’ll have to make it count.”

  “Fritzie, I’d give you a big wet kiss if you were up here.”

  He turned toward Travis. “We’ve got one shot with the primaries, Commander.” It took a little over a minute to recharge Dauntless’s main guns, so thirty seconds—or what was left of that now—was going to give him one chance to do some meaningful damage.

  “That’s good news.” He could hear the relief in his exec’s voice.

  “I want you to handle the targeting.” Travis had come up in gunnery, and she’d left an excellent record behind her when she’d advanced into the command track. Barron knew many of Dauntless’s gunners were as good, but this was a vital shot. And Travis was as unflappable a veteran as he’d ever seen.

  “Yes, sir.” Travis turned, leaning forward and pressing her face against the scope. “I’ll target amidships, sir. Dead center. With any luck the primaries will…”

  “Negative, Commander. I want you to target the engines.”

  Travis pulled her head off the scope for a moment. It looked like she was going to say something, but then she just leaned back down. “Yes, sir,” she finally answered.

  Barron looked across the bridge at his executive officer. She was right, of course. A shot from the primaries at this range could inflict devastating damage, and targeting the enemy ship dead center offered the greatest chance of scoring a critical hit. But combat wasn’t a textbook exercise, and every situation was unique. Barron’s ship was damaged, badly. The enemy was hurt too now, but they retained the edge. In a fight to the finish, they would win, barring some miracle. Barron needed time—to complete repairs, to regain some sort of parity with his enemy…and to prepare for the next round of the battle. He’d get some of that time, perhaps ten or twelve hours before his enemy could decelerate and reverse course to renew the battle. But if they could damage their enemy’s engines, it would buy them more time.

  “We need time, Commander, and if they can’t decelerate…”

  “Yes, sir.” He could tell from her tone she understood completely now.

  Targeting the engines was a tough shot, requiring pinpoint marksmanship. Which was another reason he wanted Travis on the controls.

  “You can do this, Atara…” He realized he was staring at Travis, and he pulled his focus away, only to realize that every set of eyes on the bridge was fixed on Dauntless’s first officer. He almost ordered them to pay attention to their own stations, but he stayed silent. Travis was as intensely focused an officer as he’d ever seen, and her face was planted against the firing screen. She could have had a thousand people staring at her, and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Not right now.

  Barron’s eyes darted to the chronometer. Twenty-five seconds since Fritz’s com.

  That’s cutting it close…

  He watched Travis, counting the seconds off in his head, each one passing with excruciating slowness. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Fritz had said maybe forty-five, but she’d only promised thirty. Perhaps that was only the way she’d said it, but his experience with the engineer suggested that she spoke in extremely precise terms.

  He was tense. He felt the urge to order Travis to fire before it was too late. But he’d given her a precise target, and he trusted her.

  Come on, Atara…

  Thirty-two…thirty-three…

  They were on borrowed time.

  Then the bridge lights dimmed, as Barron knew they were doing throughout the ship. It took virtually all the power Dauntless could produce to fire the massive main guns. There was a loud noise, almost like the sound of metal twisting. The sound the primaries made was unique, like nothing he’d ever heard before. But it could have been music to him now, and he felt some of his tension fade. Travis had gotten the shot off. But it would be another few excruciating seconds before anyone on Dauntless knew if she’d scored any hits.

  Indeed, he realized, the shot had already reached—or missed—the target. The primaries were usually fired at ranges of up to two light seconds, but the enemy was barely fifty thousand kilometers from Dauntless. It had taken le
ss than a fifth of a second for the particle beam to cover that distance. The delay—if a few seconds could be called such—was the time required for scanners to analyze and report the results of the shot.

  His eyes were fixed on the display, waiting…the same as everyone else on the bridge. Then he saw the images update, two small starburst icons. Hits.

  The bridge erupted into applause, even as Barron was still processing what he saw.

  She hit with both!

  The display changed, a small image appearing to the side, a blow up of the enemy ship…at least the best schematic the AI could guess at. And there were two glowing circles, both of them in the vessel’s aft.

  Right by the engines…

  “Nice shooting, Atara.” His head snapped around toward the communications station. “Lieutenant, any thrust readings from the enemy ship?”

  Vin Darrow stared at his screens for a few seconds, turning away and snapping his head right back as if he felt compelled to check what he’d already seen. “No, sir. No thrust at all. Enemy moving away at previous velocity.”

  Dauntless shook again, a reminder that he might have damaged the enemy’s engines, but their guns were still operative.

  His com unit buzzed. He tapped the small control on his headset. “What is it, Fritzie?”

  “The primaries are out again, sir. The reactors are at sixty and forty-five percent output. It will be hours before I can get the main guns up again…if I can do it at all this side of a space dock.”

  “You did what we needed, Fritzie. Just do what you can to keep us in this fight.”

  “Yes, sir.” The com line clicked.

  Barron looked over at Travis. “Secondaries, resume fire.” He knew the order was premature—and unnecessary. The primaries had diverted almost all of Dauntless’s power, leaving her other weapons momentarily silent. His gunners would fire again as soon as they could power up their batteries, which would take longer with the reactors working at half-power.