by Jay Allan
Now, at least, it was a two-way fight. And he’d stack his gunners up against any that drew breath, vaunted Alliance warriors or not.
* * *
“Another hit, Commander. Battery seven is out of action.” A short pause. “It appears the entire crew was killed.”
Kat knew she wasn’t supposed to worry about casualties, only victory. But whoever had come up with that mantra either hadn’t led men and women into battle…or was a monster. The gunners in battery seven had been veterans from Vindictus, and they’d served with her for years. Now they were dead, probably blown to unrecognizable bits, if they hadn’t been outright incinerated.
“Carry on, Optiomagis.” It seemed like a lame response, but what else was there to say? The gunners of battery seven weren’t the last of her people who would die in this fight. The enemy’s lasers had opened fire, and half a dozen direct hits had slammed into Invictus. Her people had repaid the enemy in kind…no, they’d given more than they’d gotten. But the enemy gunners knew their business too, and with each hit, Invictus lost more power, more crew. She longed for a better strategy, something more elegant, less brutal and damaging. But there was nothing. Nothing but to continue to close.
“I want updated damage assessments. Full power to the scanners.”
“Yes, Commander.” Wentus leaned over the controls for a few seconds. “Commander, the scanner suite is badly damaged. Thirty percent is the best we can manage.”
“Then get me thirty percent…and do it now!”
She scolded herself for letting her tension show in her tone. She did want to know what damage the enemy ship had sustained from Invictus’s fire, but there was one thing in particular she was concerned about. The enemy’s main guns. Her engineers had assured her it was exceedingly unlikely the particle accelerators could be repaired so quickly in the field…or at all. But she wasn’t going to underestimate the ship and crew facing her. And the unintended consequence of the Alliance’s culture of superiority was doing just that. She’d learned that the hard way, but she doubted many of her people had. Not yet.
You would have fired those guns already if you had them, wouldn’t you?
Or are you holding back, waiting until we’re in point blank range?
She knew what Alliance protocol demanded. What her crew expected. But she was wary of this enemy…
“Reverse thrust now.”
“Commander, repeat?”
“I said reverse thrust now. Bring us to a dead stop.”
Wentus hesitated. “Commander, we have them…”
“I said reverse thrust, Optiomagis. Now obey my orders!”
“Yes, Commander.”
She could hear the disapproval in Wentus’s voice. But she didn’t give a shit.
She felt the force of deceleration slam into her, watched on her screen as Invictus’s already slow velocity dropped steadily.
She had to be sure.
* * *
“What?”
“They’re decelerating, sir. It looks like they’re coming to a dead halt.”
Barron felt his hand clench into a fist. He caught himself just before he slammed it down on the armrest of his chair.
Who the hell are you? How do you read my mind?
He’d known the enemy commander was good, since the moment he’d fallen into the trap set for him at the transwarp link. But there was only one reason for the enemy ship to stop before closing. Fear of his main guns.
Damn.
It was his last ploy, the one tactic he could devise that offered hope of victory…but if his enemy was too suspicious to close…
He slapped his hand on the com unit. “Fritzie, are the primaries still online?”
“Yes, Captain…but they’re on the brink. The next hit could be the one that knocks them out.”
Barron felt the frustration building. He had to do something. He had to pull his enemy into short range.
Accelerate? Close with them?
No, that will only make it look more likely I’m trying to get close for a shot with the primaries. This captain will be looking for that…they’ll only pull back, and they have the edge in a longer-ranged exchange.
He sat quietly for a few seconds, deep in thought. He couldn’t chase the enemy. He needed them to close.
From what little intel he had on the Alliance, this seemed unlike one of their tactics. They were aggressive, wildly, desperately so.
So why the caution now?
“Fritzie, what shape is beta bay in now?”
“Beta bay? It’s a wreck, sir. We got the fires out and capped the fuel line leaks, but then we just sealed it off. Alpha bay’s rough too, but it’s an order of magnitude better. And it’s more than enough to retrieve the fighters we’ve got left out there, if…”
“Can you reopen some of those leaks, Fritzie…get some fires going again?”
“What? Captain, I don’t…”
“Just trust me, Fritzie…and answer my question. Can we blow out the bay and control the spread of the damage to vital systems?”
“You want a small series of fires? A controlled blowout?”
“I want a massive explosion, Fritzie…one that will make anyone watching think Dauntless is critical.”
“She’s damned near critical as it is, sir…” There was a pause, and then her tone changed. “But I think I understand what you want now, sir.”
“Can you do it?”
“Yes, Captain. I can do it.”
“In six minutes…because that’s all we’ve got.”
There was a momentary silence. Then: “Yes, sir. Six minutes.”
Barron stared at the display, at the symbol representing the enemy ship.
You won’t be easily fooled…
“Fritzie, I’m going to need you to shut down both reactors when you blow out the bay.” Barron paused again. “And then I’m going to need crash restarts of both of them.”
“You’re asking for miracles, Captain.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve got a miracle worker down there, then…isn’t it? Can you manage it?”
Fritz sighed hard, but then she said, “Probably…but you’re taking a hell of a risk, sir. A hundred things could go wrong.”
“It’s a terrible risk just being here, Fritzie. Get ready…you’ve only got a little over five and a half minutes left…”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CFS Dauntless
Krillus Asteroid Belt
40, 500,000 kilometers from Santis, Krillus IV
307 AC
“Let’s go. Move it!” Fritz was standing next to a heavy bulkhead, waving to Sam Carson and Walt billings. The two engineers were running down the corridor, carrying heavy sacks of tools.
“Drop the kits…just run!”
Carson let go of the sack, and it hit the ground with a loud crash. He pushed harder, trying to move his legs faster, his eyes on the tiny hatch ahead. He and Billings were the last of the team to evacuate the bay. They’d set the thing to blow, hopefully a controlled explosion that would look a hell of a lot worse outside than it was inside. But they’d only had a couple minutes, not nearly enough to do the job right. Any number of things could go wrong. The blast could fail to occur…or it could rip through the containment they’d set up, bring massive damage to Dauntless’s other sections, doing the enemy’s job for them.
Either way, we’ll know in twenty seconds…
He pushed even harder. He didn’t think Captain Barron would blow the bay with his engineers still in there, but he knew Commander Fritz would slam the hatch shut and do just that if the captain ordered it. He suspected she’d hate herself for it…but she’d do it.
Carson was a combat spacer, and he’d always known he could face the danger of battle. But now, running for that hatch, he thought of Lise, of never seeing his newborn son. He’d always managed his fear before, keeping it in its place. But he could feel his heart pounding in his ears now. Images of his wife’s face when they told her he was dead. His son,
a toddler, a child, growing to adulthood, all without him there.
He lunged forward, putting the last of his strength into one great burst. “C’mon, Walt. Move your ass.” Billings was on his tail, clearly just as motivated.
Carson dove forward through the hatch, his comrade right on his heels. His knees hit the hard metal floor hard, pain radiating up his leg. Then he fell the rest of the way, throwing his arms out to cushion the blow. But he was through. And he heard the hatch slam shut…and a few second later, a loud blast.
Dauntless shook wildly, and Carson was slammed into the wall, his already sore wrist getting pinned under his body, twisted hard. There was pain, and fear the hatch wouldn’t hold, that it—or one of the dozen other spots that could give way— would fail and spread devastation through Dauntless.
He turned over on his side, holding up his savaged wrist, looking up at Fritz. She was on the com, ordering the reactor shutdown. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was, hoping the bulkheads around the bay would hold.
And hoping Captain Barron’s insane plan would work…
* * *
“Massive explosions, Commander,” Wentus reported. “We’re picking up large volumes of gas and fluids blasted into space.”
Everyone on Invictus’s bridge was excited. Everyone except the battleship’s commander. She was guarded, cautiously optimistic, perhaps, but no more. She was still reluctant to close, though she knew the scanner readings would make that more difficult. Certainly, doctrine was clear. Any failure to close now would be viewed as gross dereliction of duty, of cowardice.
“Continue scans, Optiomagis. And maintain fire.”
“Commander, we…yes, Commander.”
Not yet…
The enemy ship was still moving forward, but its engines appeared to be offline. There was no thrust, just a continuing vector, modified now by the force from the explosion. The Confederation ship looked dead in space.
And if it is…
Kat knew her duty, she knew she had no choice. But she was delaying, continuing the medium range gunnery duel. Except it wasn’t a duel anymore. The enemy fire had ceased entirely. She could stay where she was, even accelerate away from the enemy, maintain her range and slowly blow her target apart. But that would take longer, perhaps long enough for the enemy to manage some last ditch repairs.
“Commander, scanners report zero energy readings. The enemy’s reactors are all down.”
She felt what little choice she had driven away by Wentus’s words. The way was the way. She was an Alliance officer…and that came before everything.
“Very well, Optiomagis. Initiate one-quarter thrust, directly toward the enemy.” One-quarter was the best Invictus could manage while firing its batteries at full strength. And she wasn’t going to stop firing, not for an instant. Not until that ship was nothing but superheated plasma.
“One-quarter thrust, Commander. Toward the enemy.”
Kat sat in her chair, looking forward. She felt the imperative she’d been bred and raised to feel. The need for victory. But part of her hated to destroy such a worthy foe, and she remembered her earlier thoughts, and Commander Vennius’s words…of the Confederation as an ally and not an enemy.
But that was not the way fate had chosen for things, and it wasn’t for her to question orders. She could feel regret, wonder what might have been…but no more than that. The way was the way.
“All weapons, continue maximum fire.”
* * *
Barron sat in the dim light of the bridge, the only illumination coming from the battery-powered emergency lights. The reactors were both down, though not because of battle damage, as it appeared to anyone watching. Dauntless was playing dead, floating powerless in space, her guns silent. It was a gamble, a desperate one. But it was their best chance at victory.
The ship shook again, the sounds of tortured structural elements twisting and groaning in the depths of the vessel. Barron knew Dauntless couldn’t take much more pounding. Any hit could knock out the carefully, but tenuously repaired primary guns. That would be the end. The silence of Barron’s secondaries sacrificed any other chances the Confederation vessel had of winning the fight, however remote they might have been. If Fritz and her people couldn’t flash restart the reactors, they would all die. If the primaries were damaged again, they would die. Barron had bet all their lives on one desperate gamble.
“Enemy is accelerating again, Captain. Directly toward us.”
Barron inhaled deeply, feeling like he hadn’t taken a breath in hours. The enemy had just sat there for what had seemed like an eternity, though he knew it had been no more than a minute. He’d almost resigned himself to despair, believing his adversary had refused to take the bait. But now the enemy was coming. Just as he’d planned…and his stomach shriveled into a knot.
“Primary crews stand by.”
“Primary crews ready, Captain.”
He tapped the com. “Ready, Fritzie?”
“We’re ready, sir.” The voice on the com sounded anything but.
“Lieutenant Darrow, range.”
“Ninety thousand kilometers. Velocity, two hundred kilometers per second.”
“Fritzie, how long to start up the reactors?”
“A minute, Captain. If we get lucky.”
I should wait…I’d love to get the shot off at fifty thousand…but I can’t cut it that close…
“All right, Fritzie. Begin restart procedure. All power directly to the primaries.”
“Yes, sir.”
The big guns would take about forty seconds to charge up. That meant Dauntless had to endure almost two minutes more pounding before he could fire.
C’mon, old girl…you can do it…
“Fuck!” Barron heard Fritzie’s voice through the headset. She wasn’t talking to him, but she was upset. He’d heard the engineer swear before—when provoked she had a vocabulary that would shame a career crew chief. But he’d never heard her like this. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…get up there, try the main bypass.” A pause. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“Fritzie!” Barron raised his voice, not in anger but to get his engineer’s attention.
“Sir, we’ve got some kind of burnout in reactor A’s control system…and I’ve got the two units slaved together for rapid restart. If we can’t get A going, it will take at least twenty minutes to disconnect the controls and fire up B alone.”
Damn…you knew something could go wrong. Probably would go wrong…
“Do what you can, Fritzie.”
“On it, sir.”
Barron stared at the display, a rough 2D image replacing the power-hungry 3D holographic projection. The enemy ship was coming straight for them, and Dauntless was helpless, her tortured hull absorbing hit after hit.
“Fritzie…”
* * *
“Billings, I want a dozen more bots in there, right now!”
Fritz was standing outside the reaction chamber, shouting orders to the cluster of engineers around her. Everyone there was well aware they had to get the reactor fixed and online within minutes. Or they would all die. Everyone on Dauntless would die.
“The bots aren’t going to get it done, Commander.” Billings was staring across the engineering space, his eyes locked on Fritz’s. “It’s a level two overload, and there’s no time to fix it. We need to work a quick bypass. It’s the only way.” Walt Billings was a jovial sort in less stressful moments, a jokester not above the occasional prank on one of his comrades. His reputation as a bit of a clown tended to obscure his considerable skill as an engineer. But now, in the middle of the crisis, he was focused, serious. And Fritz knew he was right.
“Get me a rad suit,” she shouted to one of the aides standing next to her. “Now!”
“You can’t go in there, Commander.” Sam Carson was standing behind Fritz. He had been working at a panel along one of the walls, but now he turned toward the chief engineer. “The radiation level in there is off the charts. The suit’s not going to b
e enough.”
“There’s no choice, Sam.” Fritz turned and took the silver radiation suit her aide was handing her. “If we don’t get these reactors back online, we’re all dead anyway.
“I’ll go, Commander.” It was Walt Billings.
Carson watched in amazement. Billings was his comrade, and his friend, but he’d never thought of the engineer as a hero before.
You never know what is inside someone until something brings it out…
“No, Lieutenant,” Fritz snapped back. “I’ll go. You two stay out here and reroute the power supply as soon as I get the connection back online.”
“Commander…”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant.” Fritz moved her hand down to close up the front of the rad suit…and then Dauntless gyrated wildly. Showers of sparks rained down from the electrical panels along the wall, and Fritz was thrown across the room.
Carson’s eyes darted up, and he saw a heavy steel support, snapped in half and ready to give way. Then, another explosion ripped through the ship, and shards of shattered metal went flying around the room like shrapnel.
Carson fell hard to the ground, landing on his injured arm. He shouted in pain, but as soon as he looked around the room, he bit back on it. Three of the technicians, at least, were dead, crushed by falling debris. Billings was down, trapped under a girder, but still alive.
“Ooooph…”
Carson heard the moan, and he knew immediately it was Fritz. The engineering chief was struggling to get back to her feet. She had a large bruise across the side of her face, and one eye was rapidly swelling shut. Then he saw it, a shard of metal, maybe forty centimeters in length, protruding from Fritz’s shoulder.
She managed to get back to her feet, though she looked like she would fall any moment. Carson could see now how bad the wound was. Fritz’s uniform was covered in blood.
“Help me…to the hatch, Sam,” she said, clearly struggling with every word.
“Commander, you can’t…”
“No choice, Sam…have to get…reactor back online…”
Carson turned his head, staring at the clear barrier between the engineering space and the reaction chamber. It looked harmless enough, no different than where he was kneeling now. But he knew invisible death waited inside that chamber…radiation a hundred times the lethal level. Even more.