“Enemy craft has taken twenty percent damage.”
That got their attention. The vessel aimed its cannons at the Takarabune now, locking on. Brid didn't need Reindeer's confirmation; she could see the guns swiveling their way on the main viewscreen.
She gripped her chair's armrests. She expected a big one, and she got it. The ship rocked, throwing them all back in their seats, then forward. With a great effort Brid managed to remain in her chair, although she scooted forward a few inches. She settled discreetly back once the ship stopped moving to and fro. She began to wish her seat had a harness like the ones in the Banshees.
“Forward shields down forty percent,” Reindeer said glumly. “Maintaining thirty-five percent capacity. One more hit could–”
They prepared to find out just what another shot could do as the alien warship struck them again. A terrible, piercing shriek burst from the comm, startling hell out of everyone and making them all put their hands to their ears. Pilirani tore off her earbud with a shout of pain.
“Ow! Forward shields down. Fifty percent damage to ship-to-ship communications; twenty percent damage to intership communications.” Reindeer's hands rushed across the console, killing the sound.
“Pilirani, are you all right?”
Grimacing, one hand to her ear, the communications officer nodded.
“Go to the Infirmary.”
Pilirani shook her head, that blue lock of hair she had brushing over her eye. “I can manage, Captain. I'll use the other ear.” Then, when Brid hesitated, “Please, ma'am.”
Reluctantly, Brid assented. “Do we have word on the Queenstown?”
Pilirani checked. “They've been hit again, Captain. Forward shields down; she took twenty percent damage to her helm.”
“Adelard, where are those missiles?”
“Firing Three and Four now, Captain.”
“The enemy has destroyed both missiles, ma'am.” Reindeer didn't need to say it; Brid saw the lasers drive into the missiles, exploding them mid-flight.
“Again, Adelard.”
“Ma'am, the Queenstown has just committed injury to the alien craft: two missiles to center aft. Twenty-five percent damage.”
“Firing Missiles Five and Six.”
“A direct hit and a miss. The Snappers have taken another ten percent damage.”
Brid noted with satisfaction the marring of the alien vessel, a great, ugly scorch mark that, though hard to see against the black of the ship's hull, nonetheless indicated serious repairs would be necessary. A few of the craft's lights had winked out, making its outline even more difficult to see than usual.
“The aliens have a lock on us.”
They took another hit to the bow. “Right in the nose!” Kaipo said.
“Damage twelve percent.” And, “Ma'am, there's a squadron of Copperheads headed our way.”
“Pilirani, call in some Banshees to help out.”
“Aye, Captain.”
But the Copperheads came first, and even though their lasers were less effective against a warship than another warship's would be, they could still do harm, particularly against a ship whose shields had been penetrated and who had already taken significant damage. The alien fighters took turns making passes at the Takarabune, firing at her now-weakest spot: center bow. While the Takarabune dealt with that, the alien warship turned its sights on the Queenstown, who–Pilirani informed them–had taken a considerable hit to her forward guns. She could fire missiles, but she had depleted her stores. She stood helpless.
The Copperheads made another pass.
“Damn,” said Adelard. “Those things are hard to hit.”
“Concentrate on the warship,” Brid said. “Trust the Banshees to defend us.”
He didn't look any too happy about that, but he did as she told him to.
“Another five percent decrease in enemy life support,” said Reindeer. “That is one unhappy mother–”
A BOOM! cut her off. Sparks flew from the helm, the bulkhead. Reindeer yelped as her console spat electricity into the air, burning her fingers. She jerked back, clutching her hands to her small chest.
At the same time, a jolt of electricity stabbed through Kaipo's console; but this jolt was so strong it threw Kaipo out of his chair. He landed at Brid's feet, his eyes wide, his mouth open, his lank hair standing up on end.
Brid was sure he was dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Just outside the Freyr Asteroid Belt
“Kaipo!”
“Bridge to Infirmary!” Brid had dropped to one knee, was feeling Kaipo's neck for a pulse; she found one, good and strong, but the helmsman still hadn't come around. “He's alive,” she said to Reindeer, who had abandoned her post and now sat opposite Brid on the deck.
“Hepburn here,” a harried voice said over the comm.
“Emma, I've got a man down. Electrical shock. He's breathing, but that's about it. We need someone up here right away.”
“I'm on my way.”
“Bring bandages for finger burns.”
“Aye.”
“Reindeer, can you keep working?”
A nod. “If I have something for my fingers.” Her eyes had gone wide, and her brows knitted with worry.
“I need you to focus, Reindeer. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Yes, ma'am.”
“Good. I'm going to call for a temporary replacement for Kaipo. You may sit with him until Doctor Hepburn gets here. Let me know if his condition changes.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Brid put in the call, and she turned her attention back to the main viewscreen while Reindeer sat at her feet. “Daniau, take that mother out of my sky.”
Adelard fired another pair of missiles in response; they blew a hole in the warship's aft, and all the lights on the craft blinked off. Brid waited, but no emergency lights took their place. The ship was dead. Normally, a cheer would have risen from the bridge, but Kaipo lying inert on the deck had a subduing effect, and Brid contented herself with cold satisfaction instead.
Another squadron of Copperheads arrived to batter the Takarabune's center bow, and more Banshees came to combat them, firing on them, swooping in closer than they should, and otherwise diverting the Snappers' attention from Brid's ship. The bridge got an up-close look at the dogfighting, saw just how fast the Copperheads were, and how much more agile the Banshees. One of the Takarabune's pilots shot at a pair of enemy fighters, then did a one-eighty, challenging the Turtles to give chase—which of course, they did. But their ships weren't cut out to perform as tight a turn as the Banshee had done, and they ended up square in someone else's sights. They were swiftly dealt with. Brid cheered silently for the soldiers who'd pulled that stunt; if they could keep up that kind of clever teamwork, the Copperheads would be done for in no time.
Emma entered the bridge then, with an aide, a gurney, and a handful of medical supplies. Brid noticed her rumpled uniform and frowned; Emma had a habit of missing meals and sleep when she got caught up in something, and it looked as though the war had her burning the candle at both ends. Well, Brid thought, how is that any different from the rest of us? Emma swiftly brought the gurney around to where Kaipo lay and checked his vitals, then helped her aide lift Kaipo onto the gurney. “Take him straight to Diagnostics. I'll be along in a moment.” she turned to the room. “Who's the one with the burned fingers?”
“Me,” Reindeer said. “Is Kaipo gonna be okay?”
“We'll do everything we can for him. Now let's get some salve on those fingers.” She led Reindeer off to the side so Brid could see the viewscreen, and wrapped Reindeer's burns quickly and expertly . . . though it made her fingertips bulky and awkward.
Kaipo's replacement turned up just as Emma left and Reindeer was headed back to her station.
“Reindeer, this is Sharifa Ajam,” Brid said. “Sharifa, Minke Reinder. Also known as Reindeer. Now get to work, the both of you.”
“Aye, Captain. Good to meet you, Reindeer.” Sharifa held out
a hand.
Reindeer deigned not to take it. “Yeah. You, too,” she said curtly.
Brid had also put in a request for technicians to come fix the front console, and a couple finally dragged themselves in, weary expressions on their faces. “I'd hoped for someone who'd actually be awake to do the repairs,” Brid said.
“Ma'am, that creature no longer exists.”
A tired smile crept around the corners of her mouth. “Try not to disrupt things too much.”
“Aye, ma'am.”
“Helm, let's have a look around., see where we're most needed.”
“I'm sorry, ma'am,” Reindeer said. “We can't. The image on the main viewscreen refuses to change. We can only see what's directly in front of us.”
Sharifa glanced at her. “What about the other viewscreens?”
“Those are fine,” Reindeer said through gritted teeth.
Brid came up behind her. “Let me see our port and starboard.”
Reindeer obeyed. To their port, the Kanaloa stood firm, giving back as good as she got. The Queenstown sat to their starboard, bravely holding the line so the aliens couldn't break through, but another of the Snapper warships had taken the first one's place and was punishing her soundly.
“Get that ship in range. Adelard, as soon as you see a viable target, I want you to shoot.”
“Excuse me, ma'am.”
She twitched, feeling something at her thigh, and glanced down to find one of the techs messing around beneath the console. She went wordlessly back to her chair, having finished looking over Reindeer's shoulder for the time being.
“We'll have the bastard in your sights in no time, Lieutenant,” Sharifa said.
Reindeer sent her a hard look. “Yes. We will.” She jumped suddenly. “God, what are you after down there, my non-existent virginity? I'm trying to work, you ass!”
“I—I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to—”
“Just get out from under there! I can't do anything with you fumbling around my legs!”
Brid met the tech's eyes, shook her head, and moved to take Reindeer's thin arm, leading her to the back of the bridge where they wouldn't be easily heard. “Come here a minute, Reindeer. I need to speak with you.”
“They're in my way, ma'am. I can't get anything done. And Sharifa's kind of a bitch. I can't—I can't work like this . . . !”
Brid placed a hand on Reindeer's shoulder. “I know you're stressed right now. We all are. You're worried about Kaipo, and you're feeling territorial about the helm. But you can't take it out on Sharifa and the techs, Reindeer. They're all doing their best, just like you.”
Reindeer bit her lip. “I'm scared.”
“I know. But look around you. See Adelard over there, and Pilirani? They've always depended on you and Kaipo to keep up morale no matter what was going on around them. I depend on you. And now that job is yours alone, until Kaipo's fit for duty again. We all need you, even Sharifa. Can you help me out, here?”
Reindeer thought it over, nodded. “Yeah. Yes, I can. Thanks, Captain.”
Brid squeezed her shoulder, and Reindeer returned to her post with renewed confidence in her step. “ 'Scuse me if I accidentally stomp you,” she said to the tech, and he grinned up at her. “The enemy warship is in range, Captain,” Sharifa said.
“Said the bridge's resident hottie,” Reindeer said, and sent the other woman a prurient wink. Sharifa shot her a nasty look, then caught the humor in Reindeer's up-curved lips and shook her head, smiling. “Stop. You'll turn my head.”
The Takarabune had to slip in between the enemy warship and the Queenstown to get the Snapper ship in range, and now the Takarabune took a hit broadside. The boat shivered ominously.
“Forty-five percent damage.”
Brid was just glad it wasn't their center bow. “Fire at will.”
Adelard struck with lasers first, then followed up with more missiles, one after the other; the vacuum of space blanketed all sound outside the ship, but Brid imagined she could hear the missiles hitting their target: boom, boom, boom, boom! The greater part of two decks disappeared on the alien vessel.
“Woo-hoo!” Reindeer pounded her fists in the air. “Severe enemy casualties!”
The Takarabune suffered another shock, this one hard enough to rock them all sideways. If Brid hadn't had an armrest on the side of her chair, she'd have been thrown clear. As it was, she hit the armrest hard enough to bruise her ribs and send her breath rushing out of her lungs. “Damage.”
“Twenty-seven casualties on Lower Deck 30.”
God, that was a bad one.
“They're making a break for it,” Sharifa said. On screen, the alien warship tried turning its aft away from the Takarabune, but it was blocked from doing so by ships on either side of it. Instead it began a dive, attempting to position itself too low to be a viable target.
“Again, Mr. Daniau.”
She watched the missiles explode against the enemy's hull: boom, boom, boom, boom!
The ship imploded, black metal caving in on itself, crushing the missiles' flames before space had the chance. The rear thrusters glowed brilliantly for an instant and then went out entirely.
“Enemy ship destroyed, Captain!”
Brid allowed herself a small smile. The tide, it appeared, was turning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Outside the Freyr Asteroid Belt
Garner and a Copperhead flew straight at each other, firing. For an instant Garner thought he'd end up as another notch on the alien's tally of kills, but then the Copperhead exploded, and he still lived.
“Nice moves, Vasilescu,” Jaden said. “You'll be turning into a real pilot one of these days.” She joined him in going after a pair of enemy fighters. The Snappers evaded them, one banking left, the other right, going around Garner and Jaden. “Damn!” said Jaden. “I hate it when they do that.”
“I'm on it!” An swept in, nailing one of the sons of bitches. Garner and Jaden did a one-eighty, heading for the second craft.
“I got it,” said Fault. He fired at the bandit, but it the Snapper banked and landed a glancing blow on Fault's Banshee. Fault wobbled. “Damn!”
“You bent?” Jaden asked.
“No; I got it.” He recovered, straightening his flight path. “Bastard just threw me off-kilter for a second, that's all.”
Meanwhile, Adam and Lanei both went after the Copperhead, firing and hitting their target simultaneously. “Woo-hoo!” Adam's shout came in loud and clear over the comlink. “See that, Lanei? We're too alike not to be together. It's destiny!”
“Knock it off, Adam!”
“Can it, both of you, and pay attention. Simonis,” said Jaden, “you've got a bandit on your six.”
“Shit.”
“I'm on it.” Garner arced over Adam and the Turtle targeting him, and attacked, but his angle off tail–the angle between his flight path and that of the Copperhead–was too high, and the Snapper turned, increasing the AOT and forcing an overshoot. It zipped out of range, then circled back to engage him. Garner performed a displacement roll, getting behind the Turtle. He then turned the Copperhead into so much floating debris.
It was then that the Takarabune caught his attention. She took another big hit from one of the alien warheads, this one to her forward guns. Without those weapons, she could only fire missiles unless she attacked a ship below or behind her; and Garner could see she had only a few missiles left.
Half a dozen bandits made their way to the Takarabune to take advantage of her plight. “Adam, Fault,” Garner said. “The Takarabune!”
The three of them sped to her rescue. The enemy fighters were taking turns strafing her, weakening an already damaged area: the bow, primarily center bow, where a separate squadron of Copperheads had already made passes. That section had a lot of vital systems attached to it, including helm, communications, and life support. Too much injury to that particular spot could mean the death of the Takarabune and those on board her.
The Turtles w
ere paying too much attention to their strafing run to mind the three Banshees coming up behind them.
“Let's do this,” said Fault.
“Wait–Don't fire. We may hit the Takarabune.”
“Then what the hell are we supposed to do? Ask them politely to stop?”
Garner boosted his aft thrusters, giving his craft as much speed as he could. “Just get close. Real close. Stay on their tails and lock on, but don't shoot.”
They did, the three of them. It had the hoped-for effect of unnerving four of the Snappers, who then moved far enough away from the Takarabune that the Colonials could safely attack. Adam dispatched of one in short order, searing off a piece of its wing, then striking it dead center. He howled a war cry.
“I'm awesome! I'm heading back to the Takarabune to draw the fire of the other two bandits.”
“Adam, wait!” said Garner. “We should go together. Wait until Fault or I can spot you.”
“Don't get beaded up, Garner. I can handle it. I'm invincible!”
“Dammit, Adam–!” But his friend had already returned to the warship and now got between her and the Copperheads, effectively drawing their fire. He was a good pilot, and in spite of the bandits' speed, he kept the enemy guessing–and missing.
“Lanei! This is for you, baby!”
It was a shout Garner would remember for the rest of his life, because it was the last thing Adam Simonis ever said. In a move eerily similar to when Adam and Lanei had simultaneously struck one of the Snappers, the two bandits fired on Adam, hitting his ship in the canopy. Garner saw the bolts pierce first the glass, then Adam; and then the Banshee tore to bits, Adam along with it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Just outside the Freyr Asteroid Belt
Adam Simonis was gone. Just gone. Fault knew the score—he'd lived with war his whole life, so he'd lived with death his whole life. Soldiers fought, and then they died. And Adam was a soldier.
But, dammit, Fault had liked the guy. And having just lost Doctor Begbie, Fault already felt raw and twisted up inside . . . and angry. Angry that he had these feelings, angry that Begbie and Adam had died, angry at the Snappers that had killed them—and for what? At least Osiris and Nommos warred over mining rights; nobody knew why the aliens had attacked.
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