by C. R. Daems
Baats’s hands blurred as they flew across the ECM board. Anti-missiles, chaff, and laser fire reached out to destroy and divert the incoming destruction. Baats appeared to be diverting or stopping ninety percent of the incoming missiles, which meant the Peregrine was being battered once or twice every minute. Battle-metal limited the damage but every couple of minutes one ripped through the ship’s skin, blowing apart compartments, killing and maiming crew, and degrading operational effectiveness. I knew the destruction would accelerate as the Battle-metal weakened.
“Shuttle bay 21 open to space, ten dead and five wounded; Environment unit equipment no longer functional, six dead and eight wounded; Striker bays 25 and 26 destroyed along with part of navy crew’s quarters, twenty-three dead and fourteen wounded; missile storage damaged along with forty missiles…” Stowa reported as the list of damage and deaths continued to mount. At his rate it wouldn’t be long before the Peregrine would be a piece of junk drifting through space.
The Peregrine missiles were scoring with better accuracy. Kollar had scored over twenty hits on L1. It had moderate damage but was still functional. Although H1 had been hit, it showed little significant damage.
“Navigation, set us up for a micro skip closer to the L1. We need to destroy or disable it and hope Tamerland can stop the Heavy. We can’t.”
I had to admire the Captain. He’d been courageous to go to Tamerland on a hunch, and he certainly was no coward. He had to know that we wouldn’t survive the encounter, yet he fought on.
“Ma’am, Thalia can micro-skip us as close as you want,” I whispered. “We could fire and skip before they could return fire.”
“Captain, how close do you want to be?”
“Close as we can get. Thousand kilometers.” Uchida looked to me.
“One kilometer.”
“One kilometer, Captain.”
Gebauer turned towards Uchida and shook his head. “Can’t be done.”
Uchida looked at me.
“Thalia will need both our vectors and acceleration, sixty seconds before we want to jump.”
“What do we have to lose by trying?” Uchida asked no one in particular. Gebauer looked at her and then me. He started to say something then stopped. He looked tired.
I went on to explain what would happen. Sixty seconds before the anticipated jump, Commander Simms would feed me L1 and the Peregrine’s speeds and vectors. Commander Kollar would set in a firing solution to execute immediately when we came out of the jump. She would have ten seconds to fire the three remaining missile tubes and engage with the fifty-centimeter lasers. Ten seconds later, Helm would execute the coordinates for the second micro skip out of range of the Heavy. I doubted the Light or the Heavy could react that quickly.
The Captain nodded. A minute later Simms had the information. She transferred the vectors and accelerations to my screen and the sixty-second clock started. Everyone watched as the clock ticked down. I watched Thalia manipulate the Symath. With fifteen seconds remaining, I transferred Thalia’s vector and timing to the helm’s board—a four-second jump. The XO began the count while Thalia worked on the second jump.
“Twelve, eleven…”
The Peregrine could only micro-skip for a total of eight seconds at the best of times without damaging the fusion engines. These weren’t the best of times. Number two engine was inoperative; number one and three were hovering around half-power. Engineering estimated micro-jumps totaling six seconds might be possible. Best-case scenario, the Peregrine engines would be left with enough power to limp to Tamerland; worse case, it would destroy the remaining two engines.
At seven seconds, I transferred Thalia’s second vector to Willman—a one second skip.
“Five, four, three, two, one…”
“May God be with us, jump!” Gebauer stared his display. I watched as the bridge and the people turned to transparent ghosts. A shiver went through me, and it was over.
“My God!” Kollar shouted. “Missiles away, Lasers fired.”
“Jump!” the Captain ordered. Again that eerie shiver and things returned to normal.
“Radar, what’s the status of L1?”
“There are multiple explosions and debris flying everywhere.” A loud cheer went up with the news.
“Quiet, there’s still a Heavy out there.” Gebauer stared at the TAC for a minute. “Engineering. What’s our status?”
“Number One and Two completely destroyed. Number three is barely functional, ten percent at best.”
“Navigation, plot us an intercept vector to H1.” Gebauer sat back with no further comment. The bridge lapsed into silence. We weren’t in condition to fight with a Striker. Uchida transferred the vector to Willman, and Riddler gave the order to execute. The seconds ticked away, as we waited the inevitable.
“H1 is heading for the Wave, Sir,” Simma almost shouted. No one said anything, but there was a collective sigh of relief.
“Makes sense. He probably decided his window of opportunity had passed. Comm, contact Tamerland. As soon as they’ve control back, we’d like a vector to their repair station.”
Chapter 19
The Puff Adder and the Compton floated several hundred kilometers apart in a White Dwarf system devoid of life. It was the designated rendezvous area for the Baptiste Clan in the Tragos sector of the SAS. The Puff Adder had been there for two weeks waiting on the Compton, and Captain Anton Ja’Tuva’s emotional temperature rose with every passing hour. By the time the Compton arrived, he wanted blood. He didn’t care whose, although Angela Ja’Oyrat was his preferred target. He paced his conference room, waiting for the shuttle to deliver his prey. When the door opened and the two Ja’Oyrat entered, he pointed a finger at them and shouted.
“You led us into a trap, you and your bitch of a granddaughter. We lost the Sidewinder and all its crew because of her incompetence. I want her to pay. I want her killed!”
Rares ignored Anton and took a chair at the side of the conference table, conceding the chair at the head of the table to Anton. Angela sat next to Rares closest to Anton’s chair. He glared at her. After a few minutes, he stomped over to the table and sat.
“You bitch. Nearly four hundred Clan members are dead because of you. I won’t rest until I see Clan justice!” He slammed his fist on the table after every word. Angela watched Anton with a slight smile; one reserved for a child having a temper-tantrum.
“Yes, Anton. Clan justice would be appropriate. You could explain how a Heavy and a Light cruiser could be driven out of a system by an SAS Light cruiser. First the Sidewinder destroys a lightly-armed merchant ship, and now an SAS Light cruiser forces you to abort the mission. Oh, I forgot to mention you lost the Sidewinder,” Rares said in a normal voice. Anton sat speechless for a minute. “Yes, Anton, I’ll call for Clan justice and let the elders decide.”
“Damn you, Rares.”
“In my opinion, what we have is a series of unfortunate coincidences. I learned the two Riss-humans would be turned over to the army garrison for delivery to the Riss nation. My source didn’t know that another Riss-human was aboard the Peregrine or that she would deliver the Riss-humans. They sent Wasps with her because she was a member of the Peregrine. The escort went armed because she’s, at least in theory, a Riss.” Angela paused, looking at Anton with her head cocked to one side. “Your men didn’t give themselves away. They didn’t know circumstances had changed.”
“What about Tamerland?” Anton asked, frowning.
“Because the Peregrine had its engines on idle, we have to assume they were there as extra security. That was an important shipment for SAS. Again, no one on Tamerland would have had access to that information. They certainly didn’t expect a Heavy cruiser or they wouldn’t have sent a Light. They were being cautious. The Peregrine’s micro-skip sounds like a miscalculation with unfortunate c
onsequences,” Angela said. Rares nodded agreement. Anton continued to watch Angela for a long time before nodding.
“That does seem to be the logical explanation and fits the facts as we know them. Given we assume that’s what happened, what’s next?”
“I think that’s what happened; however, the alternative is that both teams were somehow compromised. If so, the SAS had time to adjust their plans, that is, the Wasps and the Peregrine. We should be safe and assume that either could have happened. I would suggest we avoid any target that involves putting people on the ground,” Angela replied.
“If we aren’t careful, they could figure out that the Compton is involved. In that case, your source of information will be neutralized—not to mention Angela and me.” Rares scanned the room while waiting for Anton to speak. Ten fawn-colored-leather chairs complimented the onyx marble-like tabletop. The light-tan wood paneling gave the room an appearance of being in a groundside office.
Finally, Anton rose and walked to the other end of the room. He collected three crystal glasses and a decanter of wine, and gave Rares and Angela each a glass. After filling his glass, he passed the bottle down the table. Angela took Rare’s glass and filled it before filling her own.
“The Light cruisers Cobra and SeaSnake will be joining you five days from now. The Elders have decided that we should get more aggressive in our target selection and with the SAS Navy. They are, therefore, providing you with additional cruisers. Angela and I will continue to identify targets for you.”
“To Clan Baptiste and a change in our luck.”
“To Clan Baptiste,” Rares and Angela echoed. Angela took out her handheld and studied it for a few minutes, while sipping her wine.
“This is good wine, Anton. How would you like a whole ship-full?” She had a smile a man would kill for. It made her look like a goddess and made you feel like she was yours alone, which explained how she discovered the secrets she did. Even after you knew her, it still was hard to shake the feeling. In reality, Angela belonged to no one.
“I assume you’d like a case for yourself?” Anton quipped. Angela dipped her head in response. She checked her handheld again, increasing the suspense.
“And the ship, please.” She giggled like a little girl asking for candy. “The merchant ship Farsee stops at Lingwood every six months to pick up a load of their famous Ling Wine Reserve. They stop for three to four days each time, staying for Lingwood’s semi-annual celebration. Their six months pickup is due in twenty-five to thirty days. If you would wait for them to arrive, you could catch them docked at Lingwood’s orbiting station. Their security is minimal and could easily be destroyed. That would open the planet to you for the picking.”
“A new merchant ship, fine wine, and slaves would be worth the effort, Angela. How reliable is their schedule?” Anton stroked the black, curly beard around his chin. He thought it logical that security would be minimal, since Lingwood wouldn’t be considered a prime target. Only the merchant’s ship made it lucrative.
“Give or take a week, they’re very reliable. The Farsee is relatively new. It should be worth sixty million credits and the wine another five million. Please don’t damage the barrels. The slaves could be worth an additional several million, depending on what you find.”
“Slaves bring a good price in the JPU. I could send one of the cruisers there if the haul’s worthwhile.” Usually it was easier to give the crew time to loot and have fun rather than collect slaves. “Well, that’s a decision for later. Anything else?”
“Lords Landing,” Angela said and paused.
“The whole planet isn’t worth the fuel to fly there.” Anton laughed. He knew Angela was baiting him, but he couldn’t imagine what could be worth the effort of going there. A group wanting a religious state had inhabited it about seventy-five years ago. Of course, the religion had to be consistent with their beliefs. That lasted about fifty years, until the religion split into two sects. They’d been at war ever since.
“The followers of Bedwyr have ordered a ship full of weapons from Tamerland. The shipment is due in ninety days. It’ll be delivered by the merchant ship Laughing Lady, escorted by a Tamerland Light cruiser, the Ocelot. Let the merchant ship land and you get another ship, modern weapons, and maybe more slaves.”
“Tamerland cruisers are pretty nasty ships.” Anton’s thoughts went back to the Peregrine for a moment. They had the superior force, yet took a beating. Well, it’s a dangerous business, he conceded.
“After the Laughing Lady lands, the Ocelot will probably leave. There’s certainly nothing on Lords Landing for anyone to want to stay and visit. With their strict laws, most of the Ocelot’s crew would wind up in jail because they dared to look at one of their women, and receive a public whipping if they weren’t stoned to death first.”
A new meeting time was arranged before Rares and Angela returned to the Compton. Anton sat thinking long after they’d left. He didn’t want to think his crews on Saipha and Tamerland had been the cause of the two disasters. One team maybe, but two seemed unlikely. The only conclusion left was bad luck—very bad luck. Obviously the elders were angry, if they sent him two cruisers. The SAS was in for a real surprise if they again stumbled on Anton Ja’Tuva.
* * * *
Anton watched as the Puff Adder optics displayed the approach of the Cobra and SeaSnake. The Baptiste Clan consisted of Gypsies, who had made a living traveling the colonies, entertaining, and trading. Being nomads, they tended to be accused of many of the crimes that happened when they were on planet. Some they committed; many they didn’t. Over time they were banned from planet after planet. In desperation, they banded together and sought refuge on a remote planet they called Freeland. There they built the infrastructure necessary to support their growing population, and over time, developed schools and universities. Branded as outlaws, they decided they had nothing to lose by raiding the planets that had banned them. Soon they became experts at reverse engineering and improving on the technology they stole. Today they had a shipyard that produced and supported the Baptiste fleet, which operated in the three empires: SAS, UFN, and JPU. They were now strong enough to defend themselves against anything less than a war with one of the empires.
Shuttles from the Cobra and SeaSnake arrived the next day. Lieutenant Dorin was there to meet and escort them to Anton’s conference room. Petru Ja’Saba, Captain of the Cobra, was a big man, heavy jowls, large stomach, and a broad body with plenty of muscle. He dressed the old-fashioned way—a white, ruffled shirt, a multicolored vest in purples, reds, and greens, black, tight pants, and black-leather boots. His second, Lieutenant Vasile Ja’Saba, was a small, thin man with a narrow face, black curly hair with a matching beard. He dressed entirely in black with a knife in each boot.
“Welcome, Petru, it’s been a long time. I see you’ve a new Lieutenant. What happened to Linus? Did he get tired of doing all your work?” It was a standard joke among the Captains. Although an excellent tactician, Petru didn’t believe in hard work.
“No, the Elders decided anyone who could work years with me deserved to Captain his own ship. He’s the Captain of the Coral working in the JPU Empire.” Petru pulled out a chair and sat. “When are you going to get us something to drink, Anton?”
“Dorin, get Petru some wine before he goes into withdrawal.” Anton waved at the liqueur cabinet. He turned to the Ja’Choys who manned the SeaSnake. “Albin, what have you been doing this year? I thought you were working out of UFN.”
“We were but the Elders said you needed help.” Albin laughed. “So here we are.” For a Baptiste, his red hair and pale complexion was unusual. He had broad shoulders, no fat, dressed casually but with nothing that matched or was new. His lieutenant, Jacek Ja’Choy, was the tallest man in the room and well built. His complexion and hair were dark, and his face clean-shaven. His gaze swept the room and everyone in it like he expected trouble and would enjoy it. He didn’t look interested in talking.
A small party ensued, as they cau
ght up on what they and their old friends had been doing. Jacek talked the least but was the most attentive.
“To business, my fellow raiders,” Anton said. It was a seasoned group that had plenty of experience in raiding and armed engagements. The Elder’s order to get tough released them from some of their previous restrictions. In the past, the clan Elders had thought it best to keep a low profile, so as not to wake the sleeping dragons. Today clan’s fleet reviled the SAS fleet. They didn’t want an all-out fight with the SAS; however, one-on-one confrontations would test their ability to challenge them. The Captains worked the rest of the night, developing a schedule and plan of attack on Angela’s targets of opportunity. Three days later they departed for Lingwood.
Chapter 20
Tamerland’s orbiting station, Cyclops, wasn’t as big as Eden’s Hercules, but it was technically equivalent and massive for a relatively small colony. The Peregrine had to be towed into docking position because Captain Gebauer didn’t trust the ship’s stability. Most of the systems weren’t functional, half the ship open to space, and only one engine marginally operational.
The Peregrine crew had been devastated. One hundred and sixty seamen were dead and eighty wounded. Forty Wasps were killed and twenty-five wounded. Only one hundred nine-five of the crew remained operational. The Captain doubted that the SAS would try to repair the Peregrine. Instead, they would donate it to Tamerland for scrap. While the Captain and the XO left the bridge to supervise the unloading of the wounded and the dead, the rest of the bridge crew and I waited for word to disembark. Kollar was the first to break the silence.
“That was a nice jump, Reese. I’ll bet we blistered that Light’s hull. I almost didn’t hit the firing button. I heard the XO mumble that he’d never been so close to another spacecraft in flight and never wanted to be again.” She laughed. “It sure made targeting easy. I could have bounced rocks off their hull.”