Destroyer (The Void Wraith Trilogy Book 1)

by Chris Fox

  "End transmission," Captain Dryker ordered. The screen went black, then returned to a view of space. "Lieutenant, is the Tigris fleet's posture changing?"

  "Negative, sir," Juliard said. She paused, studying her terminal. "It appears that only the Claw of Tigrana is moving to engage us. The rest of the ships aren't taking the bait."

  "Blast it," Dryker said, slamming a fist down on the arm of his chair. "Juliard, access the battle footage from Mar Kona."

  "I have it, sir," Juliard said. The view screen showed the debris field they'd first encountered, the wreckage of the science vessel Revelation.

  Lena tensed, her tail thrashing as she studied the screen.

  Nolan felt for her. She was seeing the remains of the vessel she'd called home. Who knew how many friends and family she'd lost when it was destroyed?

  "Broadcast this footage system-wide," Dryker said.

  "Yes, sir," Juliard replied. She was silent for several seconds. "It's been sent, sir. Every vessel in the system can see it, plus the data Commander Nolan sent."

  "That should do it," Lena said, her voice just above a whisper. "No Tigris will be able to ignore that insult, especially those in the Leonis pride. You've shown that you destroyed one of our science vessels, and you've broadcast it in one of our most holy places."

  "Let's hope it worked," Dryker said. He turned to Emo. "Get us out of here, Ensign Gaden."

  "Aye, sir," Emo said. The Johnston began to turn, then headed back into the star's corona.

  "Are we being pursued?" Dryker asked, his voice was tense.

  "Negative, sir," Juliard said. "The Claw of Tigrana is still the only one pursuing us."

  "How is that possible?" Dryker said, rounding on Lena. "I thought you said we'd insulted your entire culture."

  "You have," Lena said, growling deep in her chest. Her eyes narrowed, and she flexed her claws. "My people will never forgive this. I don't understand why they aren't pursuing."

  "The Claw will be here in four minutes," Juliard called.

  "Get us out of here," Dryker said.

  Nolan watched the view screen. It looked like they'd failed, and there was no point in staying any longer. At least one Tigris vessel was following, though that wasn't going to make any difference unless they received a lot more help from some other quarter.

  Chapter 43- Fizgig's Wrath

  Fizgig flexed her claws as she paced back and forth. Her vessel was moving toward the Johnston, but she knew she'd never reach it before it reached the Helios Gate and fled. She supposed it was possible that Dryker was telling the truth about this Ghantan system, that the Johnston would be there waiting for battle--but it seemed unlikely. Captain Dryker was one of the craftiest humans she'd ever met, and he was far too canny to give himself up so easily.

  "What are you planning?" she muttered aloud. She was aware of tails twitching all over the bridge, but her crew wisely remained silent. They could feel her fury. She rounded on Izzy, whose eyes were wide as saucers. "Is the rest of the fleet moving to join us?"

  "No, mighty Fizgig," Izzy said, in a small voice. Her tail drooped, and she didn't make eye contact.

  "Open a channel to Admiral Mow," Fizgig snarled.

  The screen flickered, then revealed a cat even older than Fizgig. The admiral's once-rich fur was now dun and faded, the gold on his cheeks fading to a pale white. He stared impassively at the monitor, meeting Fizgig's barely contained fury with utter disdain.

  "Why isn't the fleet moving to intercept the humans?" Fizgig demanded. She unsheathed her claws, stalking to the screen so she could stare up at Mow.

  "Because I have ordered them not to," Mow said.

  "Why?" Fizgig roared. "Our honor has been stained, again. The humans have come to the holiest of holy places. They have uttered a challenge, a challenge we cannot refuse. We must pursue them, and punish them."

  "And you will do so," Mow said, licking his paw, then using the paw to smooth the fur behind his neck. "You have been accorded much honor, Fizgig. Are you telling me that you don't believe you can best these humans?"

  "Of course I can best them, but that isn't the point. This isn't about a personal matter anymore. This affects all of us. We must respond with overwhelming strength," she protested. "If we do not, the humans will think us weak."

  "We would accord the humans much honor by sending our fleet. That would show that they matter--and this I will not do. You will deal with them personally. Alone. Hunt them, and do not return unless it is with word of their deaths," Mow said.

  Fizgig watched the admiral. This made no sense. Mow had always been honorable, and would never have retained his position without that kind of concern. Yet here he was advocating something that stained not just his own honor, but that of all Leonis.

  "What if the humans aren't lying about these Void Wraith?" Fizgig asked. She hoped that they were, but a quiet voice in the back of her head wondered. What did Dryker gain by coming here alone? Why would he taunt the Tigris fleet, then broadcast his true location?

  "The Void Wraith are a fairy tale for kits," Mow said, waving a dismissive paw. "The humans still rankle from their defeat in the war, even years later. Perhaps they have tailored an ambush, one that could destroy dozens of our vessels. No, we will not fall for such base treachery. You will deal with this matter alone. It is decided."

  The admiral cut the connection. Fizgig was left fuming. The Claw was still powering toward the star, and it seemed they had no choice but to proceed alone.

  "Mighty Fizgig," Izzy said, again in a small voice. "The Rrrrowlerchan is requesting a channel."

  "On screen," Fizgig commanded.

  "Mighty Fizgig." Zera, the captain of the Rrrrowlerchan, appeared onscreen. Her orange striped fur rippled with displeasure, and her tail sketched a pattern of frustration behind her. "The fleet has monitored your communication. Admiral Mow has spoken--but this is not right. Honor demands that we destroy the humans. Our entire fleet should pursue."

  "Yet, as you say, the admiral has spoken," Fizgig said, growling low. "I do not wish this, but I have no choice. I must obey."

  "Hunt well, mighty Fizgig. Your brethren hunger for blood, and you carry with us the honor of our pride. We wish we could go with you," Zera said.

  Almost, Fizgig considered asking her to disobey the admiral. Almost, Fizgig sought the help of the pride against the wishes of her commander. But doing so would dishonor Mow. It would cause a rift in their ranks, and force her to challenge Mow for command.

  No, she couldn't fracture her people. Not after the losses they'd suffered.

  Unity was vital. She disagreed with Mow, but she would do her duty. She would pursue and destroy the humans.

  "Zera, I beg a favor," Fizgig asked, blinking.

  "Name it, mighty one," Zera said, ears perking up.

  "If we fall in battle, gather the fleet and avenge us. I fear that there is a deeper game here. The humans are treacherous, but I have seen this enemy with my own eyes," Fizgig said. She sat up straighter. "If the humans are telling the truth, the Tigris must unite. Do what you can to ensure that."

  "As you will it, mighty Fizgig," Zera said. "Go with the gods, matron. You carry the pride of our race."

  Chapter 44- Surrender

  "Hold position, Ensign Gaden," Captain Dryker ordered. He could tell by the expressions on the bridge crew that they thought he was crazy. Only Nolan supported him, his unwavering optimism etched on those features. Nolan reminded Dryker so much of himself at that age. He would make one hell of a fleet captain if he survived this, exactly the kind of commander that they'd need in this new war.

  War. That word had been the counterpoint of his life, and it was somehow unsurprising that it had come again. For a long time he'd hoped that he would either retire or pass away before seeing it again. Eight long years of peace had passed, but at long last war had come again. A different kind of war, one that might extinguish them all if they couldn't pull together--and do so quickly.

  "Lieutenant Juliard,
I'd like a full core dump into a personal storage device," the Captain ordered. "Make sure it contains all sensor data, all footage of the Void Wraith, and everything we've recovered from the Primo VI."

  "Yes, sir," Juliard said, bending over her terminal. Her fingers flew across the screen. "It's being sent to your PSD now, sir."

  "Excellent. Send a copy to Commander Nolan, and broadcast another over the Quantum Network," Dryker ordered. If they died here, the data needed to live on. If they survived, he wanted a copy on his person. He had no idea what would happen in the coming battle, but that evidence must survive.

  "Captain, I'm detecting a vessel beneath us," Juliard said.

  "On screen," Dryker ordered.

  Juliard punched the image up, and it showed exactly what Dryker expected: the Claw of Tigrana was approaching from below, narrowing the distance between them.

  "They're hailing us, sir," Juliard said softly.

  "Open a channel," Dryker ordered. He sat back in his chair, and readied himself for the unpleasant encounter.

  "Why?" Fizigig growled the moment her golden-furred face filled the view screen.

  "Why, what?" Dryker asked, mildly.

  "Why did you call us here? Why taunt our fleet, when you know what it would do?"

  "My XO told you," Dryker shot back, meeting her gaze evenly. "There is a greater threat, and that threat is located here, in the Ghantan system. You'll see it as soon as you reach our altitude. The Void Wraith are here, Fizgig, and they'll exterminate all of us if we can't put our differences aside."

  "Your recent actions make that impossible," Fizgig said, though her expression softened.

  Dryker couldn't exactly ascribe human emotions to a Tigris, but almost he thought he saw regret there.

  "Surrender," she continued, "and I will spare your crew. Your vessel must be destroyed, and your life is forfeit. But your crew will live."

  "Captain, they're almost within grappling range," Emo called urgently. "Orders, sir? Should we retreat?"

  "Negative," Dryker said, not breaking eye contact with Fizgig.

  Long moments passed as the Tigris approached. Dryker knew it was impossible to run now--but then, he'd never intended to run.

  "Very well," he said. "We surrender."

  Whispers sounded between the bridge crew, but Dryker ignored them. This wasn't just the right thing to do, it was the only thing that might save them.

  "Prepare to be boarded," Fizgig said, then terminated the connection.

  Chapter 45- Stand Down

  Hannan tensed, ready to run even though there was nowhere to run. The Tigris vessel loomed larger on the view screen, then began to fire. Harpoons shot from all four of its banks, each slamming into a different part of the Johnston. The screech of metal echoed around them as the huge tritanium barbs sank into the hull.

  There would definitely be no running now.

  "Sir, are we sure about this?" Edwards asked, gesturing at the packed shuttle bay. "At the very least, we should be armed.

  All four squads of Marines had gathered here. If the Tigris wanted to slaughter them, they'd meet almost no resistance. Everyone capable of that resistance was gathered here, where they could be easily controlled.

  "I have no idea why Captain Dryker is showing his belly to the Tigris, but I've served under him for four years," Hannan said, pitching her voice loudly enough to carry through the whole shuttle bay. "He says we wait here unarmed, so that's exactly what we're going to do. I've never seen the captain make a mistake, and he's one of the few survivors from the last Tigris war. Trust him."

  Some of the nervous chatter died away, but not all of it. The 14th fleet was a haven for malcontents, incompetents, and every brand of slacker the fleet had produced. Some of these people were good soldiers, but a lot of them were like the space debris that piled up around habited worlds: utterly worthless, and prone to ruin a perfectly fine re-entry.

  "If you say so, sir," Edwards muttered. He sat heavily on a supply crate.

  "This waiting is terrible, but it will be over soon enough," Hannan said, slapping Edwards on the back.

  "Let's just hope 'over' doesn't mean 'permanently over,'" Mills said. He wasn't whispering but, as always, his voice was pitched low. As a sniper, everything he did was done quietly.

  The Johnston shuddered violently, and Hannan looked up. "That's them docking."

  "Crew of the Johnston." Captain Dryker's voice echoed over the ship wide comm. "Stand down and offer no resistance to the Tigris. Our surrender is unconditional."

  That set up murmurs among the Marines. Hannan would have punched Dryker if the captain were within reach. She didn't know why he'd chosen to surrender, but that was the worst possible way he could have broached it to the crew. Several Marines were eyeing the weapons locker in the corner. Their posture had changed. They were ready to fight.

  "Listen up," Hannan yelled. She leaped onto the storage crate next to Edwards, making herself tall enough to draw every eye in the room. "I know you're pissed off, because I'm pissed off, too. We're Marines. We do the tough jobs no one else wants to do. What's the toughest job? Turning the other cheek while we let the cats take our ship. But you know what? That is exactly what we're going to do. Stand down, people."

  Then she hopped down, and turned away from her fellow Marines. If she pressed the issue, they'd press back. But embarrassing them into doing their duty would work, as long as they were allowed to decide for themselves. The squads began settling, and were approaching disciplined silence when the Tigris finally arrived.

  The first cat through the door was tall and lean, probably six foot three. Her fur was mostly white, with little black spots on her face. She looked a lot like a snow leopard that Hannan had seen at a zoo back on earth. The cat eyed them impassively, cradling a wicked-looking shotgun with a barbed bayonet affixed to the end.

  "Who is in charge here?" the cat asked, stepping into the room. Several more cats prowled outside the door, but none entered the shuttle bay. Most of those were Leonis, with the dun-colored fur and large paws Hannan had come to fear.

  "I guess that would be me," Hannan said, stepping forward. It wasn't technically true, as there were three other sergeants in the room. She had the most seniority, though--plus she could kick the other three squad leaders' asses. Hannan extended a hand to the cat. "I'm sergeant Hannan."

  "I am Izzy Prideless," the cat said, accepting Hannan's hand. She had a firm grip, her furry paw more like a human hand than Hannan had expected. Izzy looked around the shuttle bay, releasing Hannan's hand. "This is all the soldiers your vessel possesses?"

  "This is everyone," Hannan said, folding her arms. "Four squads is all we need to deal with...well, pretty much anything."

  "Keep that in mind, cat," came a yell from the back of the room. Hannan thought she recognized Jinton's voice, but couldn't be sure.

  Izzy merely smiled as her odd feline gaze roamed the room. She turned back to Hannan. "We will stay outside for now. As long as no one attempts to leave this shuttle bay, you will not be harmed."

  Chapter 46- Boarded

  Nolan's hand fell to his sidearm as the first Tigris ducked through the hatch into the CIC. He blinked in surprise when he realized he recognized this one. It was the golden-furred cat who'd filled the screen every time Dryker had verbally sparred with the Tigris. Fizgig, Dryker had called her. Nolan had expected guards first, and found it surprising that an enemy commander would risk herself this way.

  Fizgig was a lot more intimidating up close. Her fur was short, and Nolan could see the corded muscle underneath. She wore a suit of simple black body armor that covered her torso and legs, but her arms and tail were free. Her golden fur lightened on her face, especially under the chin where it was as white as snow. It made Fizgig look ancient and venerable, a wise and canny general.

  "Hello, Fizgig," Dryker said. He didn't rise from the captain's chair, instead greeting the Tigris with a nod.

  "Mighty Fizgig," another Tigris corrected, this one larger
than any of the others. He was at least six foot six and strongly resembled a male lion, complete with the thick mane. His arms were wide enough to crush Nolan's skull like a walnut.

  "Hello, Dryker," Fizgig said, waving a paw in the male cat's direction. He subsided into silence, but glared sullenly around the room as if challenging someone to meet his gaze.

  Nolan took up that challenge. He stared dead into the cat's face. This was his ship and, while he understood what Dryker was doing, he wasn't going to just lie down and take abuse from the cats. Even if the Johnston did need them.

  "Tell me, Captain," Fizgig began, pulling Nolan's attention from the larger Tigris. "Why surrender? Why bait us, then run here? Is there really a threat so dire as you've claimed?"

  "See for yourself," Dryker said, nodding at the view screen. "That's the enemy factory. You can see there are seven ships docked, ships unlike anything we've encountered before. I've seen one of those ships up close. It was a ship just like that that destroyed your science vessel. Not us."

  "Are you trying to avoid your fate, Captain?" Fizgig asked. She walked slowly toward the captain, ignoring the rest of the bridge crew. "You know us better than that. Your fate is sealed. I have a duty, and I will do it."

  "You have a greater duty--to your race, Fizgig," Dryker countered. He finally rose from his chair, standing almost nose-to-nose with the aging Tigris commander. "The Void Wraith have returned. They've planted agents in my government, and in yours. They've even planted them among the Primo."

  "Do you have evidence to back up that claim, Captain?" Fizgig asked, her tail swishing slowly behind her. "I'm willing to hear that evidence. It won't save you, but if you speak the truth it could save your crew and prevent a war between our peoples."

  Nolan shifted from foot to foot, ready to fight if Dryker called for it.

  "The proof is in the patterns," Dryker countered. If he was intimidated by the larger Tigris he didn't show it. "You're a strategist, Fizgig. Look at the pieces being shuffled about the board. How many colonies have you lost? What has your government done about it? Doesn't it seem strange that they haven't mobilized, strange that they sent a single vessel to hunt me down?"