by Jay Allan
But that wasn’t what he most wanted to know.
“Nice work, Fritzie, but what about…”
“The primaries are online too.”
Barron almost shouted out with joy. “Fritzie, you are a wonder!” But his excitement was somewhat contained. He’d heard that tone before. There was a giant ‘but’ there.
“Captain, they’re hanging by a thread. And I can’t promise you more than one shot. With the shape the things are in and the power levels that go though there…”
“One shot is a lot better than none, Fritzie. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, sir. Which means you’ve got a choice. Take a shot—possibly the only one—at long range, before their lasers can fire on us…or hold for a crippling blow at close range, and risk taking damage and maybe losing the guns again before you shoot.”
Barron sighed softly. He knew his engineer was right. He had a choice to make, and no more than a few minutes to make it. A close range hit from the accelerators could be decisive. It could—probably would—be the battle. A longer ranged shot would be helpful, but far less decisive. But if he held fire and the guns were damaged again…
“All right, Fritzie…you and your people did your jobs. Now it’s time for me to do mine.”
He cut the com line. He had no idea what he was going to do.
* * *
“Primary batteries, open fire.” Kat’s voice was stone cold. She was nervous, worried about her opponent, about what he might do. But she was the matriarch of the Regulli, and she knew what she had to do.
“Primary batteries, open fire.”
Wentus repeated her command, relaying it to the gunnery teams.
Kat thought of her gun crews, located throughout the ship. Alliance designs tended to place gunners in or near their turrets. It reduced the possibility that damaged circuits or communications lines would silence otherwise functional batteries. It also ramped up casualties among gunnery crew, who were located right at the surface of the ship instead of in some well-protected control center. But losses weren’t an issue, at least not those suffered in victory. Palatians who died in the cause of a battle won were revered, their families honored and cared for. And the Alliance had seen little else but victory in it sixty years of conquest.
Kat listened to the familiar sounds of her main guns firing, ignoring the flickering of the lights as the guns greedily drew every watt Invictus’s reactor could feed them. She had considered different stratagems, trickery and deceit to lure her enemy into making a mistake. But she’d developed too much respect for this Confederation captain to assume he’d fall for any ploy she might attempt. She realized this was a struggle between two veterans, too strong warriors. It seemed counterintuitive, but she realized there was nothing for two such capable commanders to do now but close to point blank range and blast away at each other. The hardness of their armored hulls, the toughness of their crews, the industry of their engineers and damage control teams…those would be the deciding factors here.
“Scanners report two hits, Commander.” A few seconds passed. “A third hit!”
“Very well, Optiomagis…all stations continue maximum rate of fire.” Kat was grateful for the early hits—the enemy hadn’t even opened fire yet— but she knew the range was still long, that her beams were hitting with less than fifteen percent of the power they would have at fifty thousand kilometers.
Fifty thousand klicks. Where this battle will be decided…
* * *
“We’ve got wounded backed up out into the corridors, Ty. The aid stations are overloaded too. We’re taking a hell of a pounding. I sure hope you know what you’re doing up there.”
“Just keep it together down there, Stu. You worry about your job, and I’ll worry about mine.” Barron felt a flash of anger at his friend’s choice of words. He knew Dauntless’s chief surgeon hadn’t meant anything by his comments, save for his doctor’s hatred of anything that tended to tear up men and women and leave them wrecked and bleeding.
Barron hated thinking of his people going through that too, but he understood well enough, this was war. He didn’t like it any more than Weldon, but he’d been raised his whole life to serve a warrior’s posting.
“How are you holding it together, Ty? You’re just a man, remember…whoever your grandfather was. You keep taking those stims and pushing yourself, you’ll drop dead right on the bridge.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Stu, but there’s not much alternative now. I’ve…” His eyes caught Darrow’s hand, waving to him. “Gotta go, Stu. Do your best down there.”
He cut the line and looked over at the communications officer.
“Secondaries will be in range in thirty seconds, sir.”
“All batteries open fire as soon as we’re within the envelope. Fire at will, maximum intensity.”
“Yes, sir…max…”
Dauntless shook hard, another hit from the enemy primaries. Barron looked down at his screen, his eyes skimming the damage reports coming in. It had been surprisingly light, considering the quality of the enemy’s gunnery, but Barron knew his ship was fragile now, dozens of systems patched together in chaotic fashion. Any hit could be the one that crippled something vital. That lost the battle.
“Maximum fire, all batteries,” Darrow repeated the command. A few seconds later, Barron felt the vibrations under his feet, heard the telltale whine of Dauntless’s lasers.
Now, at least, it was a two-way fight. And he’d stack his gunners up against any that drew breath, vaunted Alliance warriors or not.
* * *
“Another hit, Commander. Battery seven is out of action.” A short pause. “It appears the entire crew was killed.”
Kat knew she wasn’t supposed to worry about casualties, only victory. But whoever had come up with that mantra either hadn’t led men and women into battle…or was a monster. The gunners in battery seven had been veterans from Vindictus, and they’d served with her for years. Now they were dead, probably blown to unrecognizable bits, if they hadn’t been outright incinerated.
“Carry on, Optiomagis.” It seemed like a lame response, but what else was there to say? The gunners of battery seven weren’t the last of her people who would die in this fight. The enemy’s lasers had opened fire, and half a dozen direct hits had slammed into Invictus. Her people had repaid the enemy in kind…no, they’d given more than they’d gotten. But the enemy gunners knew their business too, and with each hit, Invictus lost more power, more crew. She longed for a better strategy, something more elegant, less brutal and damaging. But there was nothing. Nothing but to continue to close.
“I want updated damage assessments. Full power to the scanners.”
“Yes, Commander.” Wentus leaned over the controls for a few seconds. “Commander, the scanner suite is badly damaged. Thirty percent is the best we can manage.”
“Then get me thirty percent…and do it now!”
She scolded herself for letting her tension show in her tone. She did want to know what damage the enemy ship had sustained from Invictus’s fire, but there was one thing in particular she was concerned about. The enemy’s main guns. Her engineers had assured her it was exceedingly unlikely the particle accelerators could be repaired so quickly in the field…or at all. But she wasn’t going to underestimate the ship and crew facing her. And the unintended consequence of the Alliance’s culture of superiority was doing just that. She’d learned that the hard way, but she doubted many of her people had. Not yet.
You would have fired those guns already if you had them, wouldn’t you?
Or are you holding back, waiting until we’re in point blank range?
She knew what Alliance protocol demanded. What her crew expected. But she was wary of this enemy…
“Reverse thrust now.”
“Commander, repeat?”
“I said reverse thrust now. Bring us to a dead stop.”
Wentus hesitated. “Commander, we have them…”
“Yes, Commander.”
She could hear the disapproval in Wentus’s voice. But she didn’t give a shit.
She felt the force of deceleration slam into her, watched on her screen as Invictus’s already slow velocity dropped steadily.
She had to be sure.
* * *
“What?”
“They’re decelerating, sir. It looks like they’re coming to a dead halt.”
Barron felt his hand clench into a fist. He caught himself just before he slammed it down on the armrest of his chair.
Who the hell are you? How do you read my mind?
He’d known the enemy commander was good, since the moment he’d fallen into the trap set for him at the transwarp link. But there was only one reason for the enemy ship to stop before closing. Fear of his main guns.
Damn.
It was his last ploy, the one tactic he could devise that offered hope of victory…but if his enemy was too suspicious to close…
He slapped his hand on the com unit. “Fritzie, are the primaries still online?”
“Yes, Captain…but they’re on the brink. The next hit could be the one that knocks them out.”
Barron felt the frustration building. He had to do something. He had to pull his enemy into short range.
Accelerate? Close with them?
No, that will only make it look more likely I’m trying to get close for a shot with the primaries. This captain will be looking for that…they’ll only pull back, and they have the edge in a longer-ranged exchange.
He sat quietly for a few seconds, deep in thought. He couldn’t chase the enemy. He needed them to close.
From what little intel he had on the Alliance, this seemed unlike one of their tactics. They were aggressive, wildly, desperately so.
So why the caution now?
“Fritzie, what shape is beta bay in now?”
“Beta bay? It’s a wreck, sir. We got the fires out and capped the fuel line leaks, but then we just sealed it off. Alpha bay’s rough too, but it’s an order of magnitude better. And it’s more than enough to retrieve the fighters we’ve got left out there, if…”
“Can you reopen some of those leaks, Fritzie…get some fires going again?”
“What? Captain, I don’t…”
“Just trust me, Fritzie…and answer my question. Can we blow out the bay and control the spread of the damage to vital systems?”
“You want a small series of fires? A controlled blowout?”
“I want a massive explosion, Fritzie…one that will make anyone watching think Dauntless is critical.”
“She’s damned near critical as it is, sir…” There was a pause, and then her tone changed. “But I think I understand what you want now, sir.”
“Can you do it?”
“Yes, Captain. I can do it.”
“In six minutes…because that’s all we’ve got.”
There was a momentary silence. Then: “Yes, sir. Six minutes.”
Barron stared at the display, at the symbol representing the enemy ship.
You won’t be easily fooled…
“Fritzie, I’m going to need you to shut down both reactors when you blow out the bay.” Barron paused again. “And then I’m going to need crash restarts of both of them.”
“You’re asking for miracles, Captain.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve got a miracle worker down there, then…isn’t it? Can you manage it?”
Fritz sighed hard, but then she said, “Probably…but you’re taking a hell of a risk, sir. A hundred things could go wrong.”
“It’s a terrible risk just being here, Fritzie. Get ready…you’ve only got a little over five and a half minutes left…”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CFS Dauntless
Krillus Asteroid Belt
40, 500,000 kilometers from Santis, Krillus IV
307 AC
“Let’s go. Move it!” Fritz was standing next to a heavy bulkhead, waving to Sam Carson and Walt billings. The two engineers were running down the corridor, carrying heavy sacks of tools.
“Drop the kits…just run!”
Carson let go of the sack, and it hit the ground with a loud crash. He pushed harder, trying to move his legs faster, his eyes on the tiny hatch ahead. He and Billings were the last of the team to evacuate the bay. They’d set the thing to blow, hopefully a controlled explosion that would look a hell of a lot worse outside than it was inside. But they’d only had a couple minutes, not nearly enough to do the job right. Any number of thinks could go wrong. The blast could fail to occur…or it could rip through the containment they’d set up, bring massive damage to Dauntless’s other sections, doing the enemy’s job for them.
Either way, we’ll know in twenty seconds…
He pushed even harder. He didn’t think Captain Barron would blow the bay with his engineers still in there, but he knew Commander Fritz would slam the hatch shut and do just that if the captain ordered it. He suspected she’d hate herself for it…but she’d do it.
Carson was a combat spacer, and he’d always known he could face the danger of battle. But now, running for that hatch, he thought of Lise, of never seeing his newborn son. He’d always managed his fear before, keeping it in its place. But he could feel his heart pounding in his ears now. Images of his wife’s face when they told her he was dead. His son, a toddler, a child, growing to adulthood, all without him there.
He lunged forward, putting the last of his strength into one great burst. “C’mon, Walt. Move your ass.” Billings was on his tail, clearly just as motivated.
Carson dove forward through the hatch, his comrade right on his heels. His knees hit the hard metal floor hard, pain radiating up his leg. Then he fell the rest of the way, throwing his arms out to cushion the blow. But he was through. And he heard the hatch slam shut…and a few second later, a loud blast.
Dauntless shook wildly, and Carson was slammed into the wall, his already sore wrist getting pinned under his body, twisted hard. There was pain, and fear the hatch wouldn’t hold, that it—or one of the dozen other spots that could give way— would fail and spread devastation through Dauntless.
He turned over on his side, holding up his savaged wrist, looking up at Fritz. She was on the com, ordering the reactor shutdown. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was, hoping the bulkheads around the bay would hold.
And hoping Captain Barron’s insane plan would work…
* * *
“Massive explosions, Commander,” Wentus reported. “We’re picking up large volumes of gas and fluids blasted into space.”
Everyone on Invictus’s bridge was excited. Everyone except the battleship’s commander. She was guarded, cautiously optimistic, perhaps, but no more. She was still reluctant to close, though she knew the scanner readings would make that more difficult. Certainly, doctrine was clear. Any failure to close now would be viewed as gross dereliction of duty, of cowardice.
“Continue scans, Optiomagis. And maintain fire.”
“Commander, we…yes, Commander.”
Not yet…
The enemy ship was still moving forward, but its engines appeared to be offline. There was no thrust, just a continuing vector, modified now by the force from the explosion. The Confederation ship looked dead in space.
And if it is…
Kat knew her duty, she knew she had no choice. But she was delaying, continuing the medium range gunnery duel. Except it wasn’t a duel anymore. The enemy fire had ceased entirely. She could stay where she was, even accelerate away from the enemy, maintain her range and slowly blow her target apart. But that would take longer, perhaps long enough for the enemy to manage some last ditch repairs.
“Commander, scanners report zero energy readings. The enemy’s reactors are all down.”
She felt what little choice she had driven away by Wentus’s words. The way was the way. She was an Alliance officer…a
nd that came before everything.
“Very well, Optiomagis. Initiate one-quarter thrust, directly toward the enemy.” One-quarter was the best Invictus could manage while firing its batteries at full strength. And she wasn’t going to stop firing, not for an instant. Not until that ship was nothing but superheated plasma.
“One-quarter thrust, Commander. Toward the enemy.”
Kat sat in her chair, looking forward. She felt the imperative she’d been bred and raised to feel. The need for victory. But part of her hated to destroy such a worthy foe, and she remembered her earlier thoughts, and Commander Vennius’s words…of the Confederation as an ally and not an enemy.
But that was not the way fate had chosen for things, and it wasn’t for her to question orders. She could feel regret, wonder what might have been…but no more than that. The way was the way.
“All weapons, continue maximum fire.”
* * *
Barron sat in the dim light of the bridge, the only illumination coming from the battery-powered emergency lights. The reactors were both down, though not because of battle damage, as it appeared to anyone watching. Dauntless was playing dead, floating powerless in space, her guns silent. It was a gamble, a desperate one. But it was their best chance at victory.
The ship shook again, the sounds of tortured structural elements twisting and groaning in the depths of the vessel. Barron knew Dauntless couldn’t take much more pounding. Any hit could knock out the carefully, but tenuously repaired primary guns. That would be the end. The silence of Barron’s secondaries sacrificed any other chances the Confederation vessel had of winning the fight, however remote they might have been. If Fritz and her people couldn’t flash restart the reactors, they would all die. If the primaries were damaged again, they would die. Barron had bet all their lives on one desperate gamble.
“Enemy is accelerating again, Captain. Directly toward us.”