by Jay Allan
“Yes!”
Barron snapped his head around toward Darrow then back to the display. One of the batteries had taken out an enemy bomber.
Three left…
But they’re in range now…
Barron wondered if the enemy ships would launch at long range, or if they’d risk running the gauntlet of Dauntless’s defensive fire to fire point blank shots.
His question was answered almost immediately. He saw three small dots move from the larger symbols representing the enemy bombers. Plasma torpedoes, heading straight for Dauntless.
His eyes stayed fixed, waiting for the enemy ships to change their thrust vectors, to pull off…but they didn’t. They just kept coming right at Dauntless.
“Incoming. All hands on alert.”
“Incoming. All hands on alert.” Darrow repeated the order into the shipwide com.
Barron watched the trajectories of the torpedoes. The defensive fire had hit one, leaving only two. But both of those had converted to plasma now, and they were heading right for Dauntless. There wasn’t time for evasive maneuvers, not now.
The massive ship shook once…then again few seconds later. Barron had his com unit in his hand even before the vibrations stopped. “Atara,” he snapped into the microphone. “Damage report…how bad?”
“Not too bad, Captain. It looks like we lost hull integrity in a big section of the cargo hold.”
Barron let out a loud exhale. If his ship had to get hit somewhere, that was where he wanted it.
“The other torpedo hit farther forward, but no damage to the reactors or power transmission systems…and none to primary or secondary weapons either.”
“That’s good news, Atara.” He let out a long sigh. If that’s all the enemy fighter attack accomplished, maybe his people did have a chance. “You and Fritzie…” His voice trailed off ominously, his eyes fixing on the main display. The enemy fighters still hadn’t pulled away…and now they were accelerating. Straight toward Dauntless.
Barron stared right at the display, his calm expression giving way to one of absolute horror.
“Captain?” There was concern in Travis’ voice. “Ty?”
Barron flipped his com to the shipwide channel. “All gunners…target those incoming fighters. At all costs.”
He saw the three fighters coming on, accelerating as they did. They were firing their lasers, but Barron wasn’t worried about that. It was the realization that these fighters were making suicide runs, that they were heading toward his ship at over a thousand kilometers a second, that made his blood run cold.
He saw one of them disappear, and he felt his hand clench, a silent salute to whichever of his gunnery teams had scored the hit. But the other two were still coming on.
“All stations, brace for impact!”
He felt his body tense, and then he saw another of the ships disappear. A second passed, perhaps two, time moving slowly, eerily. Then Dauntless shook. His gunners had taken the second fighter out too close. The debris smashed into the battleship, ripping through its armor and tearing great holes in the hull.
But Barron knew the worst wasn’t over. Not yet. The last fighter was five seconds behind the first, a brief snippet of time, but for Tyler Barron it seemed to stretch to a small eternity. He knew his guns weren’t going to get this one.
He felt the impact—Dauntless vibrated hard, and then tumbled end over end from the force of impact. He could hear a series of sickening shrieks as his ship’s innards groaned under the stress, and terrible cracks as structural supports snapped. He slammed forward into his harness, and barely held back a shout from the pain. The stabilizers were out, at least temporarily, his vessel’s simulated gravity out of control. The lights on the bridge blinked twice and then went out, leaving nothing but the soft glow of the battery powered emergency lamps…and the sounds of alarm bells from deep within the ship.
Chapter Thirty-Four
CFS Dauntless
Krillus Asteroid Belt
39, 000,000 kilometers from Santis, Krillus IV
Year 58 (307 AC)
“Full thrust Optiomagis. Directly toward the enemy.” Kat’s words came from the training, from the relentless automaton a life as the scion one of the Alliance’s premier Patrician families had made her. But inside, in the part of her mind where the essence of Katrine Rigellus clung to it tenuous existence, she was troubled.
“Full thrust, Commander.” Wentus’s response was sharp, crisp. It was clear the officer knew Invictus had the advantage in the fight, that it was time to deliver the final blow. Victory, the mantra of the Alliance. Her people had been somber, watching as the last of Invictus’s fighters were destroyed in the relentless assault on the enemy ship. They had been subdued as their ship had careened away from the enemy, trapped on a vector their disabled engines couldn’t reverse. But now they were on the verge of destroying their foe. Years of education, of propaganda had taught them what to think.
Victory. In the Alliance it was the highest of all things. It made any sacrifice worth the cost. Kat saw seventy dead pilots, faces of respected subordinates…even a few she might have called friends if they hadn’t been serving under her. But she knew her people saw heroes, men and women who had achieved the highest honor, death in the cause of victory.
Junus…gone…
She had watched as her fighter corps commander died. Ellian Junus had been the most gifted pilot she’d ever known, a master tactician. Yet, he’d met his match in a one on one contest against a Confederation pilot. Her people weren’t supposed to accord the Confeds any real respect as warriors, but even after she destroyed the enemy ship, she knew she would always think differently about them. She was about to do what she’d been sent to do, and her success would be the start of a new war. Part of her wanted to withdraw, to pull back to Alliance space. It would mean disgrace, the end of her career. Perhaps even a firing squad if she was found guilty of cowardice in battle. Was that too great a price to save millions of lives?
Uncle Taks…he saw some of this, and he tried to tell me…
Still, she knew that her mentor would be disgraced too if she withdrew. And for all she ached for the losses her people had suffered, for all the questions she’d begun to ask herself about the codes she’d followed blindly since childhood, she knew she didn’t have it in her to rebel. She was what they had made her, and if there had been another road, the branch to it was long behind her.
“All stations…prepare for battle.”
“All stations report ready, Commander.”
“Arm all batteries…prepare to fire.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Here I go, Uncle Taks. One more victory, a new round of medals, a promotion. More glory for the Regulli. And my gift to the Alliance. Another war.
She felt the force from the thrust pushing her into her chair. Invictus was damaged, but most of her batteries were operational, and the reactors were at almost ninety percent. They were fragile, held together by makeshift repairs, but the enemy was in far worse shape.
She’d watched her fighters attacking, braving the danger to fire their torpedoes. They had been trapped by the pursuing enemy interceptors. There had been no chance of escape. But it was one thing to acknowledge they were as good as dead…and another to order them to make suicide runs at the enemy vessel.
It was a testament to Alliance culture and training that she’d been able to give that order…and even more of one that the pilots had accepted it without question. She’d fought all her adult life, and she’d lost many subordinates, ordered them into desperate situations. But this was the first time she’d explicitly commanded her people to die for her. She knew she would carry the weight of it all her life, that she would never forget those few terrible moments.
“Firing range in three minutes, Commander.”
“Very well.”
She felt a momentary flash of anger, a reaction to Wentus’s strident tone. Her exec was a gifted tactician, an accomplished warrior. She respe
cted him, and she had some vestigial affections for him too. She considered herself fortunate to have him on Invictus. But now she saw him differently, and she found herself repelled at the herdlike behavior he displayed. That all of her crew did.
She knew she was as much a product of Alliance culture as they were, but as she looked around the bridge, she saw no doubt, no hesitation. Just mindless adherence to the propaganda they’d been fed their entire lives.
They are what they are. It’s not their fault. And are you better, superior in some way because you question things…and then follow the same doctrine they do? Or are you worse?
“Two minutes to firing range.”
“Active scanners on full. I want the damage assessments updated every thirty seconds.” Her scanners had picked up the torpedo hits, and the last fighter impacting into the enemy vessel. The energy readings were massive, and the damage had to be too. But that was all conjecture. And she wasn’t going to underestimate her enemy.
Not this enemy…
“All batteries are to open fire immediately upon entering range.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“All damage control parties to their stations.” Her crew expected to move into range and dispatch a crippled enemy. But Kat wasn’t so complacent.
Even a mortally wounded animal is dangerous. More dangerous…
“Yes, Commander Rigellus.”
She stared straight ahead. Kat had gone into battle many times, but she was edgy now in a way she’d never been before. She could feel it in her gut. But her devotion to duty was in control.
“Launch a spread of probes, Optiomagis. I want an intensive scan of the enemy vessel and the space in front of us.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Kat could tell Wentus thought her caution was excessive. But right now, she didn’t give a shit what he thought.
* * *
“We had to handle it manually, sir, but we got it done. All units are away, and we got close to the deployment plan. At least, I think we did.”
Barron had his hand on the earpiece of his headset. “I don’t know how you did it, Atara, but it’s just one more reason I’m fortunate to have you as my exec.”
“I wouldn’t trade it for any posting in the fleet, sir.” A short pause. “We did suffer two casualties, Captain. Specialists Linmore and Halston. The bulkheads down here are badly stressed, and one of them gave out. They were both blown into space before we could get to them.” He could hear the pain in Travis’s voice. He knew she blamed herself for the dead crewmen.
“Atara…” He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t at fault, not by any reasonable measure. But she would take the responsibility no matter what he said to her. “You did well,” he finally added, wishing he had something better to say.
“Thank you, sir.” She sighed softly. “With your permission, I’ll go check on Commander Fritz. She’s working on the reactors.”
“I don’t need to tell you how critical her success is, Atara. Whatever Fritzie needs, give it to her. Our survival is in her hands now.”
“Yes, Captain. Travis out.”
The last fighter had hit Dauntless hard, slamming into the ship’s hull at enormous velocity. Much of the kinetic energy transformed into heat, melting and buckling whole sections of the hull. Chunks of shattered debris drove deeply into Dauntless’s guts, ripping through deck after deck, crushing systems and equipment…killing crew.
Barron knew that could have been the end, that it still could be. But as bad as the damage was, it could have been far worse. Hundreds of kilometers of cable, piping, conduits, and cooling lines had been severed, chopped up into half-melted scrap. But the reactor cores themselves were intact, and the accelerator tubes for the primaries were unaffected. Dauntless was out of action, dead in space with both reactors scragged. But they were repairable. If there was time.
“Captain, we’re picking up energy readings from the enemy ship.” Darrow turned to look over at the captain’s station, and Barron could see the horror in his eyes. “They’re accelerating, sir. Directly toward us.”
Damn…if we had an hour. Even half an hour…
“Projected time until enemy enters firing range?”
“Four minutes, Captain.”
Barron reached up and tapped the side of his headset, toggling up Fritz’s direct line. “Fritzie, I need reactor power in two minutes or we’re all dead.” It was blunt, brutally so, but there wasn’t time for anything else.
“I might be able to get one of the reactions started, but there are bound to be leaks everywhere. We’ll most likely flood half the ship with radiation.”
“Do it.”
“Sir, a cold start like that has a lot of risks. It could scrag the reactor permanently. It could blow us up.”
“Fritzie…do it.” Barron’s voice was firm, dripping with confidence. But he suspected Fritz saw right through him, that she knew it was all pure bullshit.
“Yes, sir.”
He heard her shouting orders over the still-open channel. Then he flipped to the shipwide line. “Attention all personnel. We are about to do an emergency reactor restart. We are likely to experience radiation leakage in multiple locations. Pay attention to your rad detectors. Abandon and seal off all non-essential compartments that are affected.” He paused for a moment then added, “It is my honor to be your commander. I won’t lie to you. We’re in a tough spot. But if we pull together, if every man and woman does his best, I have no doubt we will prevail. Now, I need everything each of you has to give.”
He cut the line, slumping back in his chair. He didn’t like lying to his crew, but he knew that was what they needed from him now. And much of what he said was the truth. He did believe his crew was the best in the Confederation. But he still had doubts about the outcome of the battle. He could rally his crew, but he couldn’t fool himself. The odds were long. Still, none of that mattered. He was a Barron…and no matter what he was facing, he was determined to make that mean something.
Are you with me, Granddad? Because I sure could use your help now…
“Two minutes, thirty seconds to firing range.”
Barron took a deep breath. “Fritzie…now…we’re out of time.”
“Just a few more seconds, sir.”
Barron sat motionless. The bridge was silent. It seemed as though no one even drew a breath.
The seconds passed, slowly, torturously. Then: “Restarting reactor A.”
Barron sucked in a deep breath. In a few seconds his ship would have power. Or he would know the battle was truly over.
He stared around the bridge, waiting. And then the main bridge lights came on. His eyes darted to his screen, to the power level monitors. Reactor A showed as operational, producing power at eighty-eight percent.
“Fritzie, you’re a sorcerer, do you know that?” His eyes were still on the display, watching as the radiation reports scrolled down the screen. There were leaks, a lot of them. In the compartments of his ship, from engineering to weapons control to the AI core, his people were at their posts, ignoring nearly lethal concentrations of radiation. He was overwhelmed, with pride in the men and women he commanded, and with sadness, bitterness that such fine officers and spacers of the Confederation were slowly dying, even as they executed his commands.
Just win the fight…Stu and his people can treat the radiation cases…
“Two minutes to firing range, sir.”
“All available power to engines, Lieutenant. Maximum thrust, directly away from the enemy.”
“Maximum thrust, Captain…now.”
Dauntless shook wildly, and Barron felt the pressure of the acceleration pushing him back into his chair for a few seconds before the partially-functioning dampeners kicked in and brought some relief.
He stared down at the display, his eyes darting back and forth between the enemy ship and Dauntless. There was nothing in between, no icons, no symbols. His scanners weren’t picking up a thing. But he knew
they were there. Ninety-four fusion mines, every one of them launched into space by his first officer and a crew of spacers. By hand. And every one of them equipped with stealth technology.
Chapter Thirty-Five
CFS Dauntless
Krillus Asteroid Belt
40, 000,000 kilometers from Santis, Krillus IV
Year 58 (307 AC)
“They’re running, Commander.” Wentus said, his voice taking on a feral tone. “They’re accelerating directly away from us.”
“Very well, Commander.” Kat sat still, devoid of the excitement that seemed to be taking her crew. They viewed an attempt at escape as cowardice, as a sign the enemy was beaten. She wasn’t so sure. Her gut was screaming, telling her to let her adversary go, that she could hold Santis without destroying the battered enemy battleship. But her orders were clear.
Still, this enemy commander was no coward. He was no fool either. If he’d wanted to run, he’d had plenty of time to do it.
What is he up to?
“Status of probes?”
“Scanning data unchanged, Commander. Significant outer hull damage to enemy vessel. No other contacts.”
Kat paused for a few seconds. Something was wrong, she could feel it. But her orders left her no choice.
“All power to the reactors, Optiomagis.” Her engines were still badly damaged. She had no more than half Invictus’s normal thrust available. But the enemy ship was damaged also, its own acceleration far below normal. She had enough thrust to close, if she moved now. She couldn’t let her prey get a head start. It was time to finish this.
“Advise engineering we need the maximum thrust they can give us.” She paused. “Suspend all safeties. Full power to the engines.”
“Full power to the engines, Commander.”
Kat tried to keep the frown from her face as she caught Wentus’s tone, his arrogant of approval at her aggressive command. She wondered if the easy victory her first officer expected would materialize. Or if, as her instincts were telling her, Invictus still faced a serious fight.