Frith continued watching until the missiles, recognising a weakened target of opportunity, concentrated their attention away from the other ships and onto what was left of Diamond, blowing both halves apart with nuclear explosions and flooding the escape pods with lethal radiation. Automatically compensating for the newly formed hole in their defences, her remaining ships were moving closer together so their fields of fire once again overlapped. At such close range, the risk of being hit by friendly fire increased slightly but as it took far less to knock out a missile than a capital ship, any accidental damage would be negligible and worth the risk. Although taking multiple hits, both battleships had directed their main weaponry at the enemy fleet and were maintaining a furious rate of fire.
“Weapons Masters, please instruct our missiles to time their attacks with railgun shells when they near the targets. If we can get the enemy ships to move into the path of a shell when avoiding a missile or vice versa, we may be able to take a number of them out of the fight. Also, why aren’t their intra-missile communications being disrupted?”
Turning her attention back to the tank, Captain Woods surprised her for the second time. He had disengaged Courageous’s four hangers from the main hull and was using them as mobile weapon platforms, at a stroke increasing both the overlap of point defences and targets. Each of the hangers was an effective fighting unit in its own right, capable of independent flight and able to keep up with the task force. Although one had already been partially disabled, Captain Wood’s tactics gave Frith an idea and she quickly updated the AI, then contacted INS Glorious.
“Captain Miller, please launch all of Glorious’ fighters forward under AI control and accelerate them away from the enemy at maximum acceleration. Acknowledge.”
A holo of Captain Miller appeared in front of her. “Surely you mean towards the enemy Admiral,” he stated, his face and tone expressing mild amusement as if talking to a child. “I’ve taken the liberty of countermanding that order so…”
“Captain, if those fighters aren’t launched within the next five seconds I will come over to your ship and personally reduce you in rank to a rating when this is over, assuming you survive that is. Do I make myself clear?” Frith asked quietly in clipped tones, ensuring through her implants the conversation was being heard by all the command staff on every ship.
Miller’s face paled and he stammered for a second before regaining his composure. “Fighters away Admiral. Miller out.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, conscious the bridge officers were waiting for what came next after her uncharacteristic outburst. Leaning across to her First Officer, Commander Ian Gomez, she stage-whispered, “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do anything like that, Ian. You know, I actually enjoyed it.” Immediately she could feel the tension level drop across the bridge and she knew her words had the desired effect from the smiles she could see on her officers’ faces. Gomez looked at her and winked. They had worked together for a number of years now and in addition to her tactical knowledge he appreciated her skill in handling difficult situations.
Having now lost what little confidence she’d had in Captain Miller, Frith checked up on the launch progress and noted that his carriers’ shields were still forming and would still take at least another minute before reaching full strength. “Damn that man,” she thought to herself, hoping that Miller's hubris wouldn’t lead to the death of his ship. With his shields still at only seventy-five percent effectiveness, a concerted missile attack or several slugs hitting at once would definitely overload the shield generators and allow breakthrough to the carrier’s vulnerable hull. Fortunately, his ships AI was doing a fine job in launching the fighters and all would be away within the next few seconds. For her plan to work properly she needed all of the fighters to get as far away from the carrier as possible and safe from the wall of enemy fire descending on her task force.
Harris and her pilots made it to the muster station and into spare Marine suits only moments before acceleration began to rapidly build, leaving them grateful to have arrived in time. All were familiar with the armoured suits, having trained in them at Flight Academy, but everyone was out of practice and would be spending whatever time they had left re-familiarising themselves with the controls and any changes. Her implant finally interfaced with the suit and she called for an update from the ships AI. The news was not good. Both task forces were under fire now, with missiles having also reached the main group. The enemy fleet was accelerating hard in an effort to match their speed, making itself more vulnerable to incoming shells and missiles as they tried to close.
Four of the enemy battleships had already been taken out by withering fire from INS Rodney and Repulse, who were continuing to saturate the area with shells and missiles whilst taking up a position at the rear to cover the escape of Captain Woods and his carrier. In addition, Dauntless and her four accompanying battleships were sending out their own curtain of fire towards the enemy fleet, which Harris could see was taking multiple impacts. Harris couldn’t understand why the full complement of fighters from INS Glorious were accelerating away from the enemy fleet at high-G, however, she, like everyone in the task force, had heard of the Admirals reputation and knew there would be a good reason for it.
On the carrier’s bridge, Captain Woods managed a wan smile when he came to, and found himself looking at the concerned face of his First Officer.
“Don’t worry,” he said, beginning to stand, “there’s still life in me yet.” The relieved expression on his officer’s face told him all he needed to know about how the battle was going.
“Give the order for everyone to form armoured suits.”
“Already done, Captain. You and I are the last two, so let’s get to it.
Helping him over to the command station, Markham checked his Captains eyes for any signs of confusion caused by the fall, then nodded and moved back to his post, leaving Woods to assess what had happened and suit up. Between his link to the ships AI and the information displayed in the tank, it was obvious Hanger One had been hit by multiple railgun shells, having been unlucky enough to occupy the exact point where a full salvo from several of the enemy battleships had been passing through. Her shields had managed to deflect several of them before letting eight through and although a lot of their kinetic energy had already been absorbed and dissipated by the shields, they still struck with the force of tactical nukes, punching through the hull into hanger bays and out the other side, sending shockwaves rippling through the ship and severely damaging point defences. Seeing an opportunity, the enemy missiles co-ordinated and focused on the damaged hanger, overloading the remaining shields and turning it into a fireball when the main engines overloaded and released all of the pent up shield energy in a titanic, silent explosion. One of the slugs had struck Glorious a glancing blow below the bridge, sufficiently hard enough to shake the entire main structure, temporarily causing localised power outages.
Stunned for a few moments by the loss of over five hundred lives on Hanger One, he watched silently as the green image representing it in the tank turned to black and began falling back from the remaining blue and green ships. He knew this was just the beginning, before switching his attention to his carrier’s sister-ship, INS Glorious, watching as it began taking multiple impacts through its still forming shields.
Captain Miller looked on in horrid fascination as his AI confirmed the enemy missile swarms were now focusing their attention on his ship, targeting them as his shields were still forming and weaker in comparison to other ships in the fleet, making them a prime target of opportunity.
“This isn’t what is meant to happen,” he said to no-one in particular, before looking around in desperation at his fellow officers, mentally willing one of them to make a suggestion or say something useful. His carefully crafted career plan, to be given command of Glorious as a stepping stone to further promotion, never included getting involved in actual combat and was simply meant to be another tick on his upwards ma
rch to Flag rank, not something that might get him killed.
To Millers left, First Officer Lorna Cooke sat tight-lipped, listening to him speak and not bothering to even look in his direction. She knew, as did the rest of the Bridge staff, that Glorious was going to be taking a pounding because of his arrogance. She was silently willing the laws of physics to allow the shields to firm up in the next few seconds but knew it wasn’t going to happen. Dauntless had identified their predicament and was diverting point defence cover away from itself in an effort to protect them, and in her head she quietly thanked the Admiral and Commander Gomez, making a mental note to buy her opposite number however many drinks he wanted, provided they both managed to survive the next few minutes.
The deck shaking and trembling beneath her seat, Cooke allowed herself a few moments to think of her three-year old son, safely back home with her husband, and tried to stop the hot, prickly sensation in her eyes.
Scene 28, Bridge Cottages, Skye
“Adam, wake up, we’re there.”
Karen was looking at him when Adam awoke. She noticed there was no momentary confusion or a brief period of awakening; he simply woke, completely aware of his surroundings, needing no time at all to catch up. He returned her look and simply smiled, then looked at his door in confusion. Karen watched, amazed that he seemed unaware of how to open a car door. At first, he waved his hand in front of it and then she was sure he was going to ask it to open before stopping himself. Laughing, she leant across and pulled the door handle for him.
“See, this is what you do, Adam. Pull the handle towards yourself and the door unlocks. Don’t they have cars where you come from?” she asked, jokingly, climbing out herself.
Karen paid the driver, who had remotely opened the boot for Adam to pull out the two soft holdalls that contained their clothing. Even though the bags were not heavy, Adam noticed the difficulty he had in lifting them compared to before the accident. Although his body was almost completely healed, thanks to Vimes taking control and accelerating his autonomic system, it would be several weeks before he retained his previous strength and fitness. Vimes had told him the accelerated healing process put great strain on the body and was not something that could be maintained for any length of time, so once he was out of danger and able to move around, Vimes had released control, allowing the body to return to normal. This meant Adam would have to rebuild his previous muscle mass himself, the old fashioned way.
Adam took a moment to look around, taking in the view from the bungalow across the loch and out to sea. The earlier grey morning sky was clear on this side of the island and the sun brought the scenery into sharp contrast, highlighting the rocky cliffs to the left with the green fields and coastline in front of him. Recent heavy rains had swelled a myriad of small streams which now ran off the boggy higher ground towards the loch, creating numerous small waterfalls. Given all what had happened to him recently, Adam decided Karen was right in thinking this was a lovely place and thanked his good fortune at being able to appreciate it.
He moved to one side to get out of the taxi’s path as it reversed, watching as it drove off over the cattle grid with a thrum and turned left, back to Portree. The chemical smell of burnt fuel lingered in the air, causing Adam to wrinkle his nose and wonder why the people of this planet polluted the air in this fashion when other viable technologies were surely available to them.
Not sure what to do, Adam slowly put down the bags and stretched his arms to lessen the discomfort. He looked at Karen, who came over and picked them both up.
“I’ve got these, Adam. Come on, don’t stand on ceremony, let’s get inside.”
With that, she crunched across the gravel drive and walked up a short flight of steps leading to the main door, set at forty-five degrees to the bungalow wall to keep the howling winter gales out. She fumbled unsuccessfully in her pocket for the keys, then rummaged through one of the bags for a few moments, before triumphantly producing them like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat.
“Wipe your feet when you come in and take your shoes off,” she said, before disappearing into the hall.
Adam stood in the doorway, unsure what she meant until he looked down and read similar words repeated on a mat by the entrance. Pleased to have understood, he scrapped his trainers on the rough matting before closing the door and following in the direction Karen had taken. Turning the corner, they unexpectedly bumped into each other, before separating like guilty schoolchildren caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Karen broke the awkwardness and stepped away.
“I’ll show you your room, it’s just here. Your bed’s made and the toilet and bathroom are over there,” pointing towards the door at the end of the corridor. “I’ve put your bag on the bed so you can hang up your clothes in the wardrobe, such as they are. While you’re doing that, I’ll put the kettle on; tea or coffee?”
Adam looked at her with that puzzled look she had come to recognise, so she squeezed past him and pointed at the wardrobe. “Clothes go in here. Open the door and use the wire hangers to put your clothes on. I didn’t just construct the bed, I meant it’s ready for you to sleep in tonight. As for the kettle, I’m not going to wear it, simply heat water to make a tea or coffee. Understand me now?”
Adam nodded, mirroring her smile. “Tea please or some warm water. Any chance of food?”
Karen rolled her eyes. “I just knew you were going to say that, Adam,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen. “Follow me and I’ll show you where everything is kept so you can feed yourself.”
Adam followed gratefully, feeling hungry, vulnerable and lost. Once heir apparent to an Empire, he was reduced to following this Earth woman around, unable to grasp the simplest of technologies and he didn’t like the feeling one bit. He looked around him. The kitchen was a large area, with cupboards and drawers set into fitted furniture. He recognised a sink, taps and what he assumed were cooking utensils, but that was about it. He remembered his father telling him once that both he and his mother were good cooks, but other than the odd trip with them out into the Palace woodlands and the wilderness beyond where they’d cooked food over an open fire, he never really had the need to learn himself as everything was just a thought away and provided by the Palace staff in short order.
Karen looked at him closely. There was no way he was faking his bewilderment and with a sigh she set about clearing the fridge. Whilst the seafood still smelt OK she wasn’t going to risk getting food poisoning, so that was tied up in several plastic carrier bags and dropped in the bin. The milk was still ok so she set about boiling a kettle and thought about what to make them both, for by now she was also starting to get hungry.
“What do you want to eat, Adam?” she asked.
There it was again, that momentary hesitation before answering. Getting some ingredients out of the fridge, Karen wondered if English actually was his first language and whether he was having to mentally translate what she was saying into his native tongue and back again before responding.
“Wissen Sie, was ein Omelette ist, oder würden Sie lieber etwas anderes?” She enquired, looking at his face, remembering some of her A-level German.
“Ein Omelette ist fein Karen, Im glücklich damit,” came the reply, still with that slightly sing-song accent. He stopped and stared at her for a moment, looking surprised at what had come out of his mouth.
“So you speak German too, do you? Any other languages hidden away in ther, Adam?” Karen asked him, wondering again what she had let herself in for and why she was taking the risk of bringing this stranger into her home. As quickly as that thought came she had another; the memory of his face as she was thrown out of the lorries path and he was struck instead, before vanishing under the wheels. It reminded her again that she owed him a lot and anyway, he was a mystery wrapped up in an enigma; a puzzle that she intended to complete. On top of all that, it was nice to have male company again, especially someone this interesting and handsome.
Adam sat down at the long kitchen tabl
e, large enough for eight people to sit around comfortably, saying nothing, seemingly lost in introspection. Karen busied herself with making the food and before long the kitchen took on the aroma of cooking, making Adam’s mouth water in anticipation. Shortly afterwards they were both tucking into a late breakfast, washed down with fresh orange juice. Between mouthfuls, Karen looked up to observe him but didn’t know whether to be flattered or irked at the speed he finished off his omelette.
“Everything OK with the food?” she enquired.
“Lovely, Karen. Thank you. I feel much happier now,” he replied with another of his smiles. “Any chance of your showing me where the accident took place? I’m eager to see if it jogs lose any memories up here.” He tapped his head.
“Let’s wash up first, then we can go for a walk once we are settled in properly. You do know how to do the drying don’t you?” she responded, only half in jest, rising to pick up both of the empty plates, walking to the sink.
“No, but I’m sure you will show me anyway,” he replied, raising himself to stand by the sink and taking the dishcloth she handed to him. Fortunately, this time, he didn’t need Vimes to explain what to do with it. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to wash-up and once everything was packed away they were soon walking down the steps and crunching across the gravel towards the cattle-grid. As they walked, Adam began asking lots of questions, from what the purpose of the cattle-grid was to the types of birds that flew overhead. Karen answered as many as she could, and promised to show him on the Internet those she was unsure about. His curiosity was infectious and his questioning reminded her of a young child who had just learnt the meaning of the word “why.”
Imperium: Betrayal: Book One in the Imperium Trilogy Page 25