by Jay Allan
“Attack,” he shouted into the comm. “All fighters, attack now. It’s time to finish this.”
He brought his ship around, opening up with his lasers on the Union fighter right in front of him. There were about fifteen enemy ships left, and he was going to see something done about that.
Right now…
* * *
“Fritzie, we’re about to enter firing range. We’ll finish this as quickly as we can, but we’re out of range…and out of position too.” Barron’s voice went silent for a few seconds. “Those other ships are going to get there before we can get back.”
“The mines are deployed, Captain. We’re as ready as we’re going to be. But the fuses are tied to short-range comm units, sir. Dauntless is too far away to control them.”
“You’ll have to do it.”
“Captain, I’m an engineer, not a gunner. Not a bridge officer.”
“You’re a gunner now, Fritzie.”
Fritz stood at the portable comm unit, suddenly feeling the weight of the past week’s fatigue. She’d been in mortal danger, of course, many times. It wasn’t fear of death or defeat paralyzing her. But for all the desperate situations she’d been in, all the times she’d raced against the clock to feed Captain Barron the power he needed or to get a crucial system back online, she’d never stared into the display before, watching the enemy approaching, deciding when and where to attack. That had always been Barron’s role. And the stress of it was crushing her now, testing her to her limits.
“I’ll try, Captain.”
“Do better than try, Fritzie. There’s not a doubt in my mind you can do this…unless you convince yourself you can’t. Be calm, cool. Watch them approach, and when you think they’re as close as they’re going to get to one or more of those mines…do it. It might as well be all at once, Fritzie. That ECM you worked up isn’t going to hold forever. We’ve got surprise on our side, but we can’t push it too far.”
“Yes, sir.” Barron’s words made her feel better. A little. But she still wanted to crouch down and vomit.
“I believe you can do this, Fritzie…and I need you to believe it too.”
“I do, Captain.” She hated lying to Barron, but she was far from confident.
“Do what you have to do, Fritzie, just like you’ve always done before. Barron out.”
The line went dead, and Fritz turned toward the display. Like everything else she had available on the ancient ship, it was a makeshift affair, cobbled together from the scraps of their shuttles and other tools. But it worked well enough. If she failed, she knew she couldn’t blame the equipment.
The enemy ships were almost there. She had to make this work…she simply had to. Dauntless wasn’t going to get back in time to prevent a landing. And two Union battleships carried five to six hundred FRs. She knew Rogan’s people would fight to the last man. But there were barely seventy of them left, and as good as they were, they had no chance, low on ammunition and outnumbered eight or nine to one.
Her eyes were fixed on the screen, on the two ovals moving slowly forward, flanked by three smaller icons, the last survivors of the escorts that had accompanied the Union task force when it first emerged into the system. They were getting close…but not close enough. Not yet.
She glanced down at the small control panel, extending an arm out and flipping a series of switches. Everything was ready.
She felt a trickle of unexpected amusement amid the stress and fear. She’d scavenged a button from one of the shuttle dashboards…a large red button. She’d used it as the detonation control.
A big red button…to trigger the biggest detonation in history. Recent history, at least.
It was almost cartoonish. Who says engineers don’t have a sense of humor, even if it’s inadvertent?
She put her hand on the edge of the panel. Not yet…
Her eyes were narrow, focused. The enemy was coming right toward the minefield. It looked like they still hadn’t detected any of her ECM. She couldn’t believe it…if the Union ships kept coming, if they didn’t detect her mines, it might actually work…
Wait…
Both ships were close now, probably close enough to take some damage if she blew the minefield. But she needed more than that. She needed them to advance right into the maelstrom…and so far, they were doing just that.
She put her fingers over the button, felt the smooth plastic beneath her thumb. Waiting…
* * *
“Another hit, Captain. Looks like we took her amidships. I think…”
Travis’s words stopped abruptly as Dauntless shook hard, her own hit on the enemy ship followed almost immediately by a return blow.
Barron turned his head toward his screen, snapping out, “Damage report!” to his exec. He knew his ship well, and he could tell by feel that shot had hit hard.
“Primaries down, Captain. Reactor B at thirty percent.” A short pause while Travis fielded reports coming in from the various stations. “Lieutenant Billings thinks he can keep it at thirty for a while, but he says he’s got to shut it down soon.”
“Tell Lieutenant Billings we need every watt, Commander. He is to keep both reactors operational until I order otherwise.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Secondary batteries, open fire. All gunnery stations, fire at will.”
The enemy had scored a lucky hit, but Barron knew his opponent was almost beaten. The Union ship’s engines were down again, and that meant she was stuck on a fixed vector. His gunners would pick the thing apart. Already, there were fluctuating energy readings, signs of internal fires and explosions.
The scanners showed huge plumes of atmosphere and fluids blasting out into space, flash freezing like giant stalactites in a dark cave. Barron was sure his ship would win the fight…but the cost had been high. There were still two enemy battleships in the system, and Dauntless’s engines were at less than forty percent thrust, and now her primaries were down. We’re not going to make it. Unless Fritzie can actually pull this off…
“More hits, Captain.” There was excitement in Travis’s tone, and that told Barron all he needed to know. By the time he’d focused on the display, the damage assessments were flooding in. The Union ship was breaking up, one explosion after another rocking its massive frame. A huge section of its rear structure broke free, and a half-million ton chunk of metal and plastic floated through space, propelled by the explosion that blasted it free.
“Scanner readings?” Barron hunched forward in his chair, his own eyes on the display even as he awaited his first officer’s report.
“She looks dead, Captain. No energy readings, no fire. Nothing.”
Barron just looked at the screen, reading for himself what Travis had just told him. The enemy ship didn’t seem to have any life support still functioning. No lifeboats either. If anyone was still alive on the hulking battleship, they wouldn’t be for long.
“What is Alpha bay’s status?”
“Damaged, sir, but Lieutenant Sinclair reports they can land the rest of the squadrons.”
“Do it. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” Then, a few seconds later: “Captain, we’re getting overload readings on the engines.”
“Cut all thrust,” Barron snapped back, almost robotically.
“Lieutenant Billings is on it, sir.”
“We need those…” Barron stopped suddenly. Every readout on Dauntless suddenly went crazy, scanners burning out, even the comm lines blasting out thick static.
Barron’s head turned abruptly. There were looks of surprise all around the bridge, stunned expressions on the faces of those uncertain what had just happened. But Barron knew exactly what had caused those readings.
The display was almost offline, the AIs struggling to update the projection, to assess the almost incalculable blast of energy the scanners had just read.
Barron’s stomach was tense. It felt like the acid would burn a hole right through any second. Had Fritz done it? Had she managed to damage the
enemy ships? Would Dauntless face two cripples when it was able to get its engines back online? Or two fully-operational battleships? Barron had tremendous confidence in his people, but he knew his ship had no chance against the latter.
The wait was long, torturous…and then the static began to clear, and a message came through.
“…worked, Cap…mines…ships…”
“Fritzie, do you read me?” Barron had grabbed his headset and pulled it on. “Fritzie?”
“Captain…” The static continued to clear. “Fritz here…the mines…success…”
“The mines damaged the enemy ships? Fritzie…Fritzie…”
“It was…total success…both…destroyed.”
“Both battleships were destroyed?” Barron couldn’t believe it. Was it possible?
“Yes, sir. Both destroyed…and the escorts. Nothing left of them. Nothing at all.”
Barron leaned back and exhaled hard, even as the news disseminated around the bridge. There was a ragged cheer, but he knew his people were too exhausted to celebrate wildly. And he was sure it would take time for the truth to sink in.
“Well done, Fritzie!” Barron said after a brief pause.
“Thank you, sir!” He could hear the joy in the engineer’s normally emotionless tone.
“I guess you’re a gunner after all!”
Chapter Forty
CFS Dauntless
System Z-111 (Chrysallis)
Deep Inside the Quarantined Zone (“The Badlands”)
309 AC
“Lieutenant Billings, your people have done an outstanding job, especially with Commander Fritz and half your number over on the artifact. But I still need those engines. Now.” Barron shifted in his chair uncomfortably, reaching out and grabbing hold to stay in place in the zero gravity environment of Dauntless’s bridge. The ship’s engines were still offline. Dauntless had come out of the recent fight with its engines still partially operational. But a few minutes later the ship’s engines died abruptly, and it became clear the final shot from the enemy had hit harder than Barron had thought.
“Captain, we’re working on them. That last hit cut the main fuel line, and it slagged one of the control units too. The damage is bad. The engines themselves are in pretty fair shape, but actually getting them back online is going to take some time.”
Barron was shaking his head as he listened to the engineer’s explanation. “Just get them operational,” he said. “Every minute matters.”
He didn’t doubt a word the man had said, but Dauntless’s vector was taking the ship hundreds of kilometers farther from the artifact every second. He kept telling himself the Union ships were all destroyed, that it didn’t matter if it took a day or two for Dauntless to loop back around and return…but he was still uncomfortable.
His people had defeated the enemy task force, a herculean effort that had seemed impossible, even to him. But that still left the battleship out here, alone in the Badlands, and the damage she had sustained had eliminated whatever miniscule possibility might have existed of towing the artifact herself. It was still a waiting game, and the only strategy Barron could think of was to sit and hope the Confederation got here first. He couldn’t even defend the artifact, not unless Billings got the engines back online and Dauntless was able to get back.
Despite his own tension, he could feel the relief in the air. His people felt as though they’d won a great victory, which of course, they had. But Barron just couldn’t share their easy belief that the fight was over. He’d expected Striker to send help sooner than this, and the fact that no Confederation ships had arrived suggested something was wrong. Perhaps the relief force had been intercepted, cut off and defeated. Or, maybe something had prevented the admiral from even dispatching the ships. Whatever it was, Barron’s gut told him it wasn’t good. And if a Union ship appeared first, he had serious doubts about whether his battered vessel could win another fight.
“Commander Travis, I want a course plotted and ready the instant the engines are back online.” He tried to hide the edginess he felt, but he could tell immediately Travis had seen through his façade. And he realized as he looked across the bridge that she shared his concern.
“Yes, Captain. I already computed it. It’s locked in and waiting for your order. And for the engines, of course.”
“Very well,” he said, somehow managing to be surprised yet again by how Travis seemed to read his mind. “Check with the fighter bays as well, Commander. I know everybody wants to let out a deep breath and relax, but I want those squadrons ready to go as quickly as possible.” Barron had canceled the battlestations status, knocking the alert level down to yellow. That action had been driven less by a sense that the fight was behind them and more by the reality that his people needed some sleep. The intermediate alert kept increased crew levels at some stations, but it freed up hundreds of Dauntless’s people, every one of whom had been ordered to their bunks.
Barron leaned back and rubbed his hand over his face. He wanted to pop another stim, but he resisted the urge. Travis had tried several times to get him to go back to his quarters, or even to his office just down the short corridor from the bridge, but he’d refused. This was where he belonged, and it was where he was going to stay until…
“Captain…”
His blood went cold at the tone in Travis’s voice. An instant later, before she even finished her report, his eyes caught the data on the main display. Energy readings…from the transwarp point, the same one Dauntless had used to reach the system. The same one the Union task force had traversed.
His first urge was to declare red alert, but he held back. His people were exhausted and their nerves were shot. He would wait…wait until he was sure what was about to come through that transit point.
* * *
Anya Fritz walked down the corridor, toward the large compartment the Marines had turned into a makeshift field hospital. She walked inside, feeling a bit like an invader. The Marines hadn’t paid the entire cost of the fight to hold the artifact. Two of her engineers had been killed too. But compared to more than fifty of Rogan’s people dead, she knew her team had escaped lightly.
The battle against the FRs had been a savage one, and almost half Dauntless’s contingent had been casualties. The dead in the brutal combat had far outnumbered the wounded, but even so, more than twenty of Bryan Rogan’s people were lying along the wall of the large room atop piles of jackets, clothing, any kind of padding to cushion the hard metal deck. The captain was at the far end of the room, on his knees, hunched over an almost-still form.
Fritz wanted to turn and leave, to flee back into the corridor before Rogan saw her. But she couldn’t. She’d received a communique from Dauntless, and she had to talk to the Marine. Now.
She walked across the room, hoping Rogan would notice her and turn around without her having to say anything. But the officer stayed where he was, unmoving, even as she walked up right behind him.
“Captain…” She spoke softly, tentatively. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
Rogan stood slowly, a small exhale escaping his lips as he did. “You’re not interrupting, Commander. Lieutenant Plunkett is dead.”
Her eyes darted to the Marine on the floor beside Rogan. He was lying on a tarp of some kind. The fabric was stained dark red, and there were pools of blood to either side. Plunkett’s body was mostly covered, but she could see hints of the grievous wounds that had killed him. She’d only heard secondhand accounts, but it seemed the lieutenant was one of the heroes of the battle. His attack had broken the back of the enemy, and she suspected if his assault had been one bit less intense, Rogan’s people would have never arrived in time to save her engineering crews.
And her people wouldn’t have finished and deployed the mines…
“He might just have saved all of us, Captain…including Dauntless.” She wasn’t sure if that would make her feel better about a friend’s death…he was, after all, still dead, whether he had died for a cause or not. But she
’d been around enough Marines to know that sort of thing seemed to comfort them.
“Yes, he died well.” There was a fatigue in Rogan’s voice, one that suggested some strain in the belief structure that had carried the Marine through his years of duty. A good death, a meaningful death—Fritz had heard the Marines speak of such things—but it was still death as far as she could see. “What can I do for you, Commander?”
“We just got a transmission from Dauntless. Something is coming through the transit point.” She paused an instant then added, “It could be our relief.” Her tone suggested at least a reasonable amount of doubt about that. “But the captain wants us on full alert just in case.”
Rogan nodded. “Yes, Commander. I will deploy my Marines at once and prepare to repel boarders.”
Fritz had to respect the “never say die” attitude of the Marines. She was no expert in battles waged in the corridors of spaceships, but she had a pretty good idea that Rogan’s people had no chance, not against a fresh, fully-supplied enemy attack force. She knew with even greater certainty that fact wouldn’t affect what they did, not for an instant.
“That’s not necessary, Captain. I think you can let your people get some rest. It could be friendly forces incoming, and if it’s not, we’ll have enough warning for your people to get in place.”
“Very well, Commander.”
“I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything.” She turned and walked back toward the door.
She wasn’t sure if Rogan had truly agreed to wait or if he’d just been humoring her, but she’d done all she could to protect the well-deserved sleep of Dauntless’s Marines. If Rogan started rousing them the instant she left the room, her conscience was clear.
Almost.