Cluster Command: Crisis of Empire II

by David Drake

  But behind her, the battle still raged and even though Jessie couldn’t see it, she could hear it via her radio. “Blue One . . . Blue One . . . where the hell are you going?”

  “Forget her, Oscar One . . . the bitch is psycho.”

  “Delta Leader to Delta Five . . . break right . . . you’ve got one on your tail.”

  “C’mon sucker . . . jus’ a little more . . . gotcha!”

  “Alright ladies and gentlemen, by the numbers. Let’s show these Apex assholes how it’s done.”

  “Oh shit . . . it hurts! It hurts so bad! Please don’t let me die in here, please!”

  “Shut up, Mag . . . you’re on the command frequency.”

  Something broke inside Jessie as she listened to Mag die. Tears began to flow down her cheeks and gather around her neck gasket. She hadn’t cried since the accident. Her fingers made a fist; the interceptor changed attitude, accelerated again. Then, as suddenly as they’d come, the tears were gone. They’d killed Mag. Jessie didn’t like Mag, those bastards had no right to kill her. No right to make someone suffer like Mag had, like Jessie had. No right at all.

  She switched her visor to the plot mode. The larger ships were shooting at each other with everything they had. Light strobed as plasma batteries fired in sequence, explosions blossomed as missiles hit enemy force fields, and the huge hulls performed a slow motion ballet.

  The interceptors attacked their flanks rather than run the gauntlet between the two battleships—though the flank approach was no joyride either. As they came in, the interceptors faced everything from missiles to enemy interceptors.

  Though badly outnumbered, the Apex interceptors had given a good account of themselves, breaking up the initial Harmony attack wave. But now there were only ten of the defensive screen left, and soon they too would be overwhelmed. Nonetheless, the battleships were only slightly damaged and the cruiser was untouched.

  Jessie’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the cruiser. Why should that asshole sit there untouched?

  She tumbled her interceptor on both the pitch and yaw axes, then dumped all systems and went inert. Hopefully, the computers on both sides would assume she’d been hit and destroyed.

  Seconds passed and then minutes of gut wrenching spins as the interceptor continued off its plotted course. There was no sign that she’d been discovered. She touched the attitude controls, stabilizing her rotation in what she prayed were undetectable increments.

  Strya filled half of Jessie’s main viewscreen. A large yellow globe overlaid with patches of white cloud. The awesome shape of a battleship was silhouetted against the planet. It grew steadily larger until most of the planet was hidden behind it. Light rippled along the battlewagon’s far side as interceptors attacked and plasma batteries fired in response.

  It reminded her of distant lightning on Terra, something that you watched in eerie silence as if it were part of someone else’s world and not yours. The other battleship was discernible only by the corona of fire from its far side, a blackness blacker than the black around it.

  And straight ahead there was the cruiser.

  It lashed out lazily as the occasional interceptor tried her defenses, satisfied to sit back and let others do her work.

  Jessie’s interceptor sailed through the heart of the Apex formation. The three ships could’ve fried her a million times over, but to them she was only one more bit of space junk.

  It would work or it wouldn’t. She was totally detached, even as she thought of the countless missiles and cannon muzzles pointed her way and ready to fire.

  Time. The cruiser was almost on her. Muscles tensed, the heads-up display reappeared on her visor as she powered her systems. Jesse kicked in full thrust and toggled off her payload as her interceptor raced up towards the cruiser’s belly. Four nuclear torpedos, sixteen high-explosive missiles, and thousands of rounds of repulsor fire all hit the cruiser’s force field at once.

  The defensive force field overloaded when the four nuclear warheads exploded together. Jessie spiked onward, through the dissipating fireballs.

  Mag had been a real bitch. Thinking about it, she was glad that Mag’d bought the farm.

  The interceptor had become a three-ton missile, still accelerating as the cruiser’s repulsors chewed vainly out of it.

  Jessie hit the cruiser towards the stern. The added velocities were enough to convert part of the mass to plasma, a bright flare that announced the death of the cruiser and everyone aboard her.

  ###

  “Blessed spirits! Did you see that?” Yamaguchi demanded. “Somebody just rammed the cruiser! Did you see that?”

  Merikur had. That single action might throw the battle their way. But it made him cold all over to think of anybody doing that. Take a risk, sure . . . But not that. That was crazy.

  There wasn’t any time to give the matter further thought because a missile hit the Bremerton’s bridge and the starboard bulkhead disappeared and with it a full third of the bridge crew. Everything loose was sucked through the hole and out into space. Merikur felt himself pulled towards the hole and then jerked to a stop by his safety strap.

  Yamaguchi was likewise saved. Her voice was grim inside his helmet. “Medical party to the bridge. We’ve lost hull integrity and argrav. Estimate thirty percent casualties. The weapons section was hardest hit. If any weapons failed to make the shift to manual control, then shut them down. All stations report.”

  “Drive room closed up on manuals. No casualties.”

  “Sick bay closed up on manuals. Medical party en route.”

  “Fire control closed up and running off back-up computers. No casualties.”

  And so it went until all departments had reported in. The bridge had taken the worst of it. A good deal of the ship’s primary weapon control system had been destroyed, along with some long-range sensors. That wasn’t good, but the rest of the ship was functional and, with the exception of the mess deck, still airtight.

  It was strange to see a ragged pattern of stars where a section of bulkhead ought to be, although it made little difference to the ship or its ability to fight. Humans needed artificial gravity and bulkheads, but the ship didn’t. Thanks to a multiplicity of back-up systems, the Bremerton would continue to function with or without them. As for the bridge crew, their space armor would provide them with life support for six hours, and by that time the battle would be over.

  The medical party cycled through the mini-lock separating the bridge from the main corridor. They were systematically searching the wreckage for wounded and doing what they could to clean up the mess. The members of the bridge crew were too busy to notice. Later they would count their dead. Later they would wonder why someone else and not them. Later they would get drunk, tell stories, and cry.

  But this was now and the battle was still underway. A cheer went up. It overmodulated the speakers in Merikur’s helmet and forced the volume down.

  Yamaguchi’s eyes were bright behind her visor. “Our interceptors report damage to target one, General. They managed to slip a torp into her starboard drive room. Her port drives are untouched but she’s using them to maintain her force field.”

  “Excellent,” Merikur replied. “If target one can’t maneuver, that cuts our problems in half. Keep the pressure on her but shift most of the interceptors to target two.”

  Yamaguchi gave the necessary orders while Merikur pondered his next move. Kalbrand was aboard target two and they hadn’t heard a peep out of him so far. He was down to a single battlewagon. What would it take to beat him into submission?

  “General! Target two’s turning!”

  Looking at the plot tank Merikur saw it was true. The remaining battleship was dropping towards Strya. It’d be suicide to attempt a landing while under attack. The bastards were planning to bomb the planet!

  “Order the destroyers to attack,” Merikur said, “and put us alongside the battleship’s main hatch.” By throwing the tin cans into the fray, Merikur was stripping the troop transports
of protection, but he couldn’t help it. At least most of the Apex interceptors had been destroyed and the rest were too low on fuel and stores to be a serious threat.

  He prayed they were too low on fuel and stores . . .

  ###

  The cruiser picked up speed as Chief Engineer Baines goosed the ship’s drives. Baines was a big man, well over seven feet tall, and the boarding axe looked like a toy in his hands. Word was out that Merikur planned to board the battleship and Baines planned to go along.

  The engineer grinned as he checked the weapon’s edge and swung it around his head. Others could have their repulsors and needle guns. Baines believed there was nothing like a bloody great wedge of razor sharp steel to make room in an armored crowd.

  ###

  The next half-hour was a living hell as the Bremerton accepted the punishment necessary in order to close with the Apex battleship. Missile after missile penetrated the ship’s force-field, opening huge holes in her hull. Ravening plasma charges lighted the force field into a coruscant globe.

  In the background, there was the constant drone of damage and casualty reports which documented each stage of the ship’s slow death.

  For Merikur the hardest part was the helpless inactivity while Yamaguchi fought to keep her ship alive. It was Merikur’s role to set strategy, to look at the big picture, to give orders and then stay out of the way. He found it very hard to do. At some point, he wasn’t sure when, Beth had appeared by his side. She didn’t say anything and didn’t need to. They would die together.

  But in spite of everything the battleship threw at them, the Bremerton survived.

  Merikur could see the battleship through the shattered bulkhead: the cooling fins along the top of its hull, the shot-up radiant panels, and the repulsor batteries which still spewed death.

  “Baines says he can’t give us much more,” Yamaguchi said calmly. “The drives are going down.”

  “Understood,” Merikur replied. “Tell him to give us one last surge of power. Then put us alongside. We’re going aboard. Pass the word for everyone to tie something white around their left arm. There’ll be enough people trying to shoot us without our killing each other.”

  Yamaguchi turned with a look of horror. “What? I assumed we were going to slide a nuke through a hole in their hull and cast off.”

  Merikur gave a quick toss of his head, a gesture which blended acknowledgement with denial. “Kalbrand’s aboard the battlewagon.”

  “Yes, of course,” Yamaguchi agreed. “Eliminating him will surely cause the other battleship to surrender.”

  “Killing the Governor of Apex Cluster,” Merikur said harshly, “will surely be treated as rebellion against the Pact—no matter what our justifications. We’ll board.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.” Yamaguchi passed the word.

  The Bremerton matched velocities—a fraction—with the battlewagon. A moment, later they touched.

  With half its control systems shot away, the Bremerton was barely under control. The contact was more a collision than a docking maneuver, jerking Merikur and Bethany to the ends of their safety lines.

  Merikur grabbed a handhold and chinned the command frequency. It was an order he’d never expected to give. “Boarders away! Go for her drives! I repeat, go for her drives!”

  Bethany was right behind him as he left the bridge. Like him, she wore a white bandage around her left arm. She saw his glance and gave him a thumbs up.

  He wished he could tell her he loved her, but that would mean telling a thousand other people as well.

  He too settled for a thumbs up.

  With the argrav gone, the boarders had to swim towards the main hatch using handholds. In spite of the people around him, Merikur knew there weren’t near enough to take a battleship whose crew outnumbered his about three to one.

  Merikur had to concentrate and he was ignoring the bridge in favor of the drives. The controls were on the bridge, but without the drives, the controls were meaningless and the ship couldn’t bomb Strya.

  By the time Merikur reached the main lock, Yamaguchi’s marines had blown the battleship’s hatch and surged inside. As he followed, he felt the battleship’s argrav tug him towards the floor. He twisted and managed to land feet first.

  Most of the battleship’s crew were still tied up fighting off the interceptor and destroyer attacks. The platoon of marines who tried to defend the main hatch suffered heavy casualties and were quickly dispersed by the boarders.

  They fought well and it pained Merikur to see them fall, knowing they were doing their duty.

  But so was he. Merikur screamed with all the rest when they broke out of the battleship’s lock and charged down the main corridor.

  Baines led the way swinging his battleaxe and yelling with joy as another group of Apex marines came to meet them. Even a battleship’s corridor made a small, ugly place to fight. Battleaxes split armor, repulsors vaporized visors, and people from both sides boiled inside their suits. The radio was full of urgent talk and occasional screams.

  “Behind you Slim . . . damn that was close.”

  “Burn him! Burn the bastard!”

  “Oh God I’m hit . . . I’ve got a leak . . . aaahhhh!”

  “This way, Sir,” the chief engineer grunted. “I served on one of these my first enlistment.”

  Merikur sidestepped a boarding pike, shot an Apex marine through the visor, and followed Baines around a corner. Thank God he’d decided to go for the drives. The bridge was literally miles away through a maze of corridors.

  Baines’ head vaporized. Light flashed past Merikur’s visor. Half-blinded, he sprayed the corridor with glass. At his side, Bethany did the same. Armored figures stumbled backwards as the vacuum sucked them through the holes in their suits.

  Slipping, falling, then scrambling to his feet, Merikur staggered toward a hatch. The sign said “Engineering Section” and he couldn’t believe it when the hatch slid open. Two men in armor stepped out.

  Merikur knew he was going to die. Even as he brought the repulsor upwards, he knew he’d never make it in time.

  The figures were gone in an incandescent flash. A marine sergeant stepped up from behind. He had a mini-launcher propped up on one shoulder. “Sorry to ruin your fun, Sir . . . but I couldn’t resist.”

  “Apology accepted, Sergeant,” Merikur replied. “You owe me a drink.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” the sergeant said, stepping through the hatch, “but first I’m gonna give these swabbies a surprise inspection.”

  Ten minutes later, it was all over. The engineering section was secure, a survivor from the Bremerton had dumped the drives, and the main corridor was under their control.

  Windsor arrived a few minutes later, surrounded by members of the elite guard. Tenly followed, obviously hesitant.

  Kalbrand looked tired when he came up on the drive room screen. He wore armor, but his helmet was tucked under one arm. The bridge was still pressurized. Tired or not, his cynical smile was still in place. “Well, Windsor, it looks like this round falls to you.”

  Kalbrand looked around as if surveying the damage off screen, then back to Windsor. “But it’s far from over. From here it will spread. Planet after planet, cluster after cluster, until the Pact exists no more.”

  Windsor was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I didn’t want this, Kalbrand, but you and those like you left me no choice. Whatever comes is as much yours as mine.”

  To Merikur’s surprise, Kalbrand nodded his agreement. “Yes, cause and effect must always walk hand in hand. One of us will go down in history as a great hero, and the other as a great villain. I wonder which you’ll be?”

  Chapter 16

  Merikur was tired, his uniform felt tight, and people kept asking him stupid questions.

  “How did it feel to attack the Apex fleet? What was your wife wearing? Space armor? How uncomfortable. Poor dear, I can’t imagine how she could stand it. I’d kill Herbert if he even suggest
ed such a thing.”

  As always, Merikur did his best to smile, to hear over the loud music, and to say something reasonable in response. The last few weeks had been a whirl of activity and while he could understand the political value of holding a governor’s ball, he hated the reality of actually attending it.

  Winning battles makes more work, not less. It’s the victor who has to deal with the casualties, repair the damage, and try to hold onto what’s been won.

  After Kalbrand’s surrender, Windsor and his staff spent a lot of time and energy deciding what to do. In the absence of faster-than-ship communication, it would take time for the news to reach Earth, but eventually it would, and then all hell would break loose.

  In the end, Windsor did what politicians do best: he compromised, not once but numerous times. First, he loaded Kalbrand onto one of Merikur’s troop ships and allowed him to return home. It was tempting to hold him prisoner, but Windsor was in enough trouble without that.

  By releasing Kalbrand, he could defend his intervention on legal as well as moral grounds. He would claim that Kalbrand’s plan to destroy Strya was not only an act of unmitigated barbarism but a violation of Pact law as well, since the power to destroy planets for punitive reasons resided in the senate alone.

  Kalbrand would try to justify his actions under the broad emergency powers granted to governors, but he’d be on the defensive, and the whole thing would descend into the kind of political bickering the senate was famous for.

  As an ex-senator himself, Windsor felt sure he could guide the matter to successful conclusion. They’d censure him, or give him some other slap on the wrist, and he’d be back in business. The main thing was to avoid any appearance of annexation—