Knight's Move

by Nuttall, Christopher

  He’d hoped to provoke something – anything – from the man, but Mr. Ford just nodded, as if he’d expected that reaction all along. Perhaps he had, Jason thought, or maybe he just never allowed his real emotions to show on his face. Instead of shouting or blustering, Mr. Ford merely sat down at a disused console and viewed proceedings with a dispassionate expression that suggested he didn't really care at all.

  “Take us to battlestations,” he ordered. By now, the long-range sensors at the edge of the Bottleneck would probably have identified his fleet. The base would be rushing to battlestations itself, all the while screaming for help that wasn't going to get there in time. “And then take us into normal space.”

  The transit felt rough as they passed through the portal and back into normal space, but he forced himself to remain calm. Everyone knew that hyperspace was dangerous near the Great Wall. They’d been lucky, in a way, to escape with as little unpleasantness as they had when entire starships had been destroyed in the past. The squadron spread out behind Havoc as she headed towards the colossal naval base, which was already launching starfighters.

  “Automated weapons platforms coming online,” Dana reported, as new icons appeared in the display. “Not enough to make a difference.”

  “Point defence is to handle the starfighters,” Jason ordered. It didn't look as though the base had launched antishipping strikes, but that would change soon enough as they evaluated the threat. “Lock missiles on the station itself; prepare to fire.”

  He smiled. “And send our formal demand for their surrender.”

  There was a long pause. He glanced over at Mr. Ford, wondering what their noble benefactor would make of it, but saw no reaction. The message formally declared war – in the name of the Bottleneck Republic – and demanded that the base surrender or be destroyed. By the time a garbled version of events reached Earth, it would look like unmasked aggression and force the Federation to declare war in turn. Even if cooler heads prevailed, it would be hard to prevent immediate and savage retaliation.

  “No response,” the communications officer said. “They’re locking weapons on us.”

  Jason grinned. “Attack pattern Delta-Three-Zero,” he ordered. “Fire at will.”

  Havoc shuddered as she unleashed her first spread of missiles. The base opened fire at the same moment, trying to force the attackers to keep their distance. Not a bad tactic, Jason had to admit, although it was also pointless. The base was a stationary target, allowing him to actually fire his missiles from beyond their effective range; in the meantime, as long as they remained outside the station's range, they could avoid damage. But then, there were the starfighters ...

  “Second flight launching now,” Dana reported. “They’re torpedo-bombers, sir.”

  “Priority signal to all ships,” Jason said. The antifighter starfighters couldn't do more than scratch their hulls, but the antishipping torpedo bombers were quite another matter. “Those craft are priority point-defence targets; I say again, those craft are priority point-defence targets.”

  He braced himself as the starfighters screamed down on his ships. There was something too precise about their formation for his liking, suggesting inexperienced pilots rather than flyers who’d cut their teeth against the Dragons. But they were brave enough, he had to admit; even as the first of his missiles were slamming against the station's shields, the flyers were pushing in and unleashing their own missiles.

  “Fortify has taken heavy damage,” Dana reported. Moments later, the green icon on the display was replaced by a blinking yellow icon indicating an expanding wave of debris. “Fortify has been destroyed. Enemy craft regrouping, preparing a second attack.”

  “Aim to scatter them,” Jason said, darkly. The enemy craft couldn’t pick out the flagship, but with only five light cruisers left, it was only a matter of time until they got lucky. And if he moved his ships to cover Havoc specifically, he might as well run up a flag for them to shoot at. “And continue firing on that station.”

  He keyed his console. “Troop ships are to break off and head for the planet. I want the planet hit hard, then abandoned.”

  It was risky, he knew, but it was the only way to satisfy Mr. Ford and his mysterious backers. They wanted an atrocity, they wanted something that would ensure a war ... they’d get their wish, he knew, and he hoped they would choke on it. There would be nowhere safe for him and his men now, nowhere save beyond the Rim. They’d have to take service with the Dragon warlords if they wanted to make money ...

  “Direct hit,” Dana snapped. Part of the station's shields flickered and snapped out of existence. “Redirecting missiles to take advantage of the gap.”

  The enemy starfighters resumed their attack, slashing into his ships savagely. Havoc shuddered as a missile slammed into her hull, yet she kept firing, trying to pound the station into scrap. Piece by piece, the station was being worn down ... he saw a warhead donate inside her hull, crippling her internal dockyard. Even if they broke off now, they would have accomplished their objective ...

  “New portal opening,” the sensor officer snapped. Jason’s gaze snapped around to stare at him. There shouldn't have been anyone in range to assist the stricken station. “It’s the Federation cruiser!”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Glen had hoped that they would beat the raiders to Bottleneck. It had seemed possible; the raiders would have needed to regroup, while Dauntless could just race directly to the threatened system. But the moment they burst out of hyperspace, it became clear that they had failed to win the race. The station had already taken considerable damage and was screaming for help.

  “Take us directly towards the enemy ships,” Glen ordered. Dauntless yawed slightly as she threw herself at the enemy. “Lock weapons on target; fire as soon as we enter range.”

  He skimmed through the record from the station. One of the enemy ships had been destroyed, two more had been heavily damaged ... but the station had lost its ability to reload its starfighters, forcing the torpedo-bombers to fly fake attack runs in hopes of distracting the enemy ships. Given the problems inherent in defending a stationary target from a mobile force, Glen was impressed that they'd done as much as they had – and with just how well the enemy had timed everything. If the Bottleneck Squadron had started back the moment the base sent a distress signal, the raiders would still have several hours before it arrived.

  “Enemy craft are swinging round to face us,” Cooke reported. “They’re locking weapons on our hull.”

  “Deploy ECM drones,” Glen said. It was unlikely that the raiders had learned enough from the last engagement to reprogram their weapons to counter the ECM, although it had to be borne in mind at all times. The latest Federation counter-ECM gear was designed to adapt automatically. “And bring point defence to full power.”

  He braced himself as they came into range. “Open fire.”

  Dauntless spat a stream of missiles towards its target, then bore in, rather than breaking off as a superdreadnaught might. The enemy returned fire, launching wave after wave of missiles towards the heavy cruiser, only a handful diverted to strike harmlessly at the drones. Several more were cut down by point defence fire, the remainder striking hard against the ship’s shields. Dauntless shook violently, then fired a second barrage of her own, hammering the enemy ships. Inch by inch, they were coming into energy weapons range.

  “Locking energy weapons on target,” Cooke reported.

  “Aim to disable, if possible,” Glen said. One thing the raiders would definitely not want to do was hang around in the system, not with the Bottleneck Squadron on its way. The Federation Navy would be murderous when they finally reached the system. “I want as many ships intact as you can swing.”

  Dauntless’s phase cannons opened up, hammering the closest enemy cruiser. She angled away, firing back with her own weapons, but Helena was remorseless. The cruiser threw itself into following the enemy craft, as if she was nothing more than a starfighter, and lashed out until the en
emy shields failed, allowing her to blast the starship’s rear section into debris. It fell away, trailing plasma, as the remainder of the enemy formation altered course, bombarding Dauntless with their own energy weapons.

  “I don't want to say we’re surrounded,” Sandy said, through the command network, “but we’re being fired on from all sides.”

  Glen smiled as Dauntless shot back in all directions. The enemy craft were trying to pummel his ship into debris, but as long as Dauntless kept moving it was hard for them to trap her. If they were anywhere else, they would probably have retreated by now, yet the Bottleneck System was difficult to leave without carefully finding a safe chink in the energy storms caused by the Great Wall. They had to stand and fight ...

  Dauntless shuddered as something blew through her shields. Red icons flared up on the status display, reporting minor damage to the lower hull. Glen glanced at it, noted that repair crews were already on the way, then turned his attention back to the battle, just as Helena took them right at one of the enemy ships. The destroyer turned to flee, but it was too late; Cooke hammered the ship into scrap, then blew whatever remained of it into vapour.

  For a long moment, they were in clear space. And then the enemy resumed their attack.

  “Heavy damage, section Phi-Alpha-Rho,” Sandy reported, after two more missiles slammed into the starship’s hull. “Two drive nodes gone, sir; not a hope of replacing them in time.”

  Glen cursed. If they lost one more drive node – and losing two would put a great deal of stress on the rest of the ship’s nodes – they would lose a third of their speed. And if that happened, they were dead. The enemy would pound them until they lost the ability to maintain a shield, then blow the ship apart.

  But they won’t be able to get away so easily now, he thought, looking at the enemy ships on the display. At the very least, half of them would need urgent attention in a shipyard before they could go back into action. God alone knew where they would find a shipyard after everything they’d done. We might have stopped them completely ...

  An enemy light cruiser came around, firing directly into Dauntless’s prow shield. Cooke returned fire, hammering the light cruiser, then breaking off a moment before the two ships would have collided. Point-blank combat was rare; even the Dragons, normally keen to get to grips with their foes, avoided it. It was just too unpredictable. But there was no alternative, not now. They had to cripple or destroy as many enemy ships as possible ...

  Dauntless shuddered again, worse than before. “Captain, we just lost a third node,” Sandy said. “Our drive field is being reconfigured, but we won’t be able to make full speed.”

  “I know,” Glen said. A cold chill ran down his spine as he saw the enemy craft closing in for the kill. They knew Dauntless couldn't escape now, even though she could still hurt them. “It's been a honour.”

  “We stopped them,” Sandy said. “They won't be threatening any more worlds ...”

  Glen shook his head. Losing the ship hurt, although – as a morbid part of his mind reminded him – he was unlikely to live any longer than his ship. And it would be better to lose the crew rather than have them fall into raider hands. But the war might still go ahead, no matter Dauntless’s sacrifice. If they’d failed to stop the war, he and his crew would have died for nothing ...

  “Lock weapons on target, then bring us about,” he ordered. If nothing else, they were going to rend and tear the enemy on their way to the gallows. “Channel all power to weapons and shields. Take us right down their damned throats.”

  He'd wondered if he had it in him to be a starship commander. Now, he realised, he would never know.

  ***

  Jason felt a flush of cold victory as the enemy cruiser jerked, then slowed as she frantically reconfigured her drive field. Not even the TFN’s obsession with over-engineering its ships could save her now. And, after everything he’d lost, he would at least have the satisfaction of destroying the cruiser before he went into hiding. God knew that none of the warlords would want what remained of his fleet.

  Wounded, the Federation cruiser was still dangerous. But she was vulnerable.

  “Target missiles on her hull,” he ordered. There was no point in closing to energy range, not now. “Fire at will.”

  His smile twisted into a sneer. Their backers would be delighted. If the cruiser died, seemingly at the hands of the Colonial Militia, war would be inevitable. But he could feel nothing, apart from the grim certainty that his career was at an end. He would just have to hide, perhaps change his name and ship out as an ordinary spacer ...

  He looked over at Mr. Ford. If the man felt anything, it was well-hidden. His face showed no expression at all.

  ***

  “Enemy ships are locking weapons on our hull,” Cooke reported. “They’re closing to engagement range.”

  “It’s been a honour,” Glen said, out loud. “Prepare to engage ...”

  “Portals opening,” Cooke snapped. “Multiple portals!”

  ***

  Jason felt his jaw drop open. The last update Mr. Ford had given him had placed the Bottleneck Squadron firmly at Fairfax and that had been just before they’d entered the Bottleneck. Now, even if the ships had set off at once, they would still be an hour away ... who the hell had intervened?

  “Reading thirty-one starships,” Dana said. She sounded stunned, as stunned as Jason felt. “IFFs make them out as Colonial Militia.”

  There was a pause. “Sir,” she said, “they’re demanding our surrender.”

  “Out of the question,” Mr. Ford said.

  “They’re promising to let us live,” Dana said. She wasn't known for caring if she lived or died, but the others wouldn't feel the same way. “All we have to do is surrender.”

  Jason shook his head. “Take us away from the cruiser, straight towards the closest safe zone,” he ordered. “Now!”

  But he already knew it would be futile. The colonial militia would run them down long before they could open a safe portal into hyperspace. Trying to open one now would, if they were lucky, fail completely. If they were unlucky, the resulting explosion would destroy his ship.

  “Sir,” the helmsman said, very carefully, “we cannot hope to escape.”

  Jason hesitated. He could count on Dana, but who else would fight for him when even victory would bring certain death? Mr. Ford was an unknown; he knew better than to think that the remainder of the crew would be loyal, no matter the size of their pay checks. One couldn't spend money if one was dead.

  “Contact them,” he ordered. “Tell them that we will surrender.”

  ***

  Sandy sighed in relief as the Colonial Militia starships closed in on the raiders. She’d contacted her father and begged for help, but there had been no reply, no way of knowing if the militia were on their way or not. If her father had chosen to attack the Bottleneck Squadron instead, war would have been inevitable. After a certain point, she knew, the truth would no longer matter.

  “Thank you, father,” she breathed.

  ***

  Mr. Ford had accepted certain requirements for his job when he’d accepted it. One was a large amount of conditioning, forcing him to take certain steps in certain eventualities; another, more serious, was a surprising amount of augmentation. It didn't bother him as much as he had expected, although that might have been a result of the conditioning. After all, his family would inherit his substantial bank account after his death.

  He was not surprised that the mercenaries wanted to surrender. They were not loyal, nor would they have accepted conditioning, if it had been offered. If they confessed to everything, they might just be able to enjoy their own savings one day. Mr. Ford doubted it, but he wasn't the sort of person to take chances. Nor were his backers.

  Quite calmly, he uploaded the destruct command into the starship’s computer network and closed his eyes, waiting.

  ***

  Jason felt his mouth drop open as the self-destruct system came online. A moment l
ater, he swung around to stare at Mr. Ford. Their backer was sitting on his seat, his eyes tightly closed.

  “You bastard,” he shouted. He should have known that their backers had taken precautions, even if they’d checked the ships thoroughly for hidden surprises. “What have you ...?”

  Deep inside the bowels of the ship, matter met antimatter. Havoc disintegrated in a brilliant flash of light.

  ***

  “Enemy ships destroyed,” Cooke said. “Captain, they self-destructed.”

  “Odd,” Glen said. In his experience, raiders and privates were rarely unwilling to surrender if they were promised their lives. They were hardly brave enough to fight when there was a way out. “Stand down from red alert, then raise the station. We need to explain what happened here before it’s too late.”

  “They sent a signal just before they destroyed themselves,” Danielle said. Her face twisted into a puzzled frown as she worked her console. “But it was omnidirectional. Everyone within a hundred years will have heard it.”