“It will be done, Captain.”
Husher watched with his heart in his throat as the enemy ship’s point defense turrets pounded away frantically at the incoming missiles and Pythons. Most of the fighters were soon forced to peel away, in order to avoid getting hit, and then the turrets started work on efficiently mowing down the cloud of rockets formed by the fully separated Hydras.
In the end, only one of the smaller missiles made it to the enemy hull. But all four Gorgons did.
Fire blossomed from the opposing vessel, and as soon as the void quenched that, another explosion ruptured her hull dozens of meters down. Two more followed.
If he’d had access to his primary laser, Husher might have finished off the ship then and there. He briefly considered sending kinetic impactors into the breach, but the ship was already moving away, thrusting toward the protection offered by the nearby asteroid.
“Good job, everyone,” Husher said over a wide channel, addressing the comment to Ayam and the Air Group as well as his CIC officers. “But this is far from over. Stay frosty and get the job done. Pythons, return to base for now.”
Closing the channel, he looked around his CIC, meeting each officer’s eyes for a few seconds each. “If we’re going to continue, we need to get out of this asteroid belt, so we can see threats coming. In an even match, that…carrier, for want of a better term, would have been obliterated. But because it was able to maneuver so close to us undetected, it almost finished us. I’m not letting that happen again. That said, leaving the asteroid belt for the inner system is probably exactly what Teth wants us to do.”
Grim faces and set jaws met his eyes as he continued to shift his gaze from officer to officer. Even Kaboh looked determined.
“Major Gamble just informed me we lost twenty-nine civilians during the attack on Cybele,” Husher said. That brought winces from his officers. “One hundred and forty-three have been injured. Our marines were able to secure the city, but we have no guarantee more civilians won’t die.” Husher pointed to the main display. “On the other hand, victory today could mean the difference between saving the hundreds of billions of civilians that live in the Interstellar Union or allowing them to burn. I need to know something. Are you with me in this?”
“Aye, Captain,” Fry said right away, and Tremaine immediately echoed her. One by one, the officers sounded off.
All except Kaboh. Husher turned toward the Kaithian. “Lieutenant?”
“Aye, sir. I’m with you.”
“Time to ante up,” Fesky said.
Husher nodded. “Let’s ante up.”
Chapter 56
Teth's Gambits
“Exiting the asteroid field now, Captain,” Winterton said. “No sign of any warships moving to stop us, or of any at all. Wherever they are, they’re well-hidden. The only hostile showing on radar right now is Teth’s destroyer, which is halfway to the Ixan homeworld.”
“Maybe the enemy’s bunched up behind the planet,” Fesky said.
Husher had considered that possibility, too. Making a stealthy entrance into a system was next to impossible, especially if the system was equipped with modern sensor webs. Employing stealth on defense, though…
That was a completely different story. All you needed were sensors updating you on the approach of enemy ships—a function Teth’s destroyer could easily be serving—and the patience to wait behind a planet, moon, or asteroid until the right moment.
It would take a little over forty minutes for the Vesta to join Teth’s ship near Klaxon. Husher had endured some excruciating waits during his military career, but he expected this would prove to be one of the worst. The supercarrier’s battle group had been obliterated, and she was alone, deep in enemy territory and surrounded by an unknown number of hostile ships.
Husher saw the tension he felt reflected in the postures of his CIC officers as they monitored their respective stations in silence. Seven minutes after they’d begun their descent into the system, Winterton spoke again: “A Gok destroyer just emerged from the asteroid belt, at almost exactly the same place we exited.” The sensor operator paused, then added, “A missile cruiser and a frigate are close behind it.”
Nodding, Husher waited for several minutes more. Then, he asked, “Have any more ships emerged, Ensign?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Coms, tell Commander Ayam that in twenty minutes, provided no more warships have emerged, I want him to scramble the entire Air Group and take them back to deal with those three ships. He has more than enough firepower to handle them, and we have more than enough to deal with Teth.”
“Provided Teth has no surprises waiting for us behind Klaxon,” Fesky said. “Which we’re almost certain he does.”
“I said we have more than enough firepower, Commander. This is a capital starship class supercarrier, and we have the muscle to crash whatever surprise party Teth has planned.”
“Yes, sir,” the Winger said, though she didn’t sound convinced.
The silence resumed, and so did the waiting. Watching the tactical display, Husher saw that Teth still seemed in no hurry. His ship had less mass, and so it took less energy to propel, making it nimbler. The destroyer could have easily outstripped the Vesta if her commander wanted. Hell, he could do the disappearing trick, too. This wasn’t an authentic retreat, and both Husher and Teth knew it. Had this been a game of chess, they would both be employing obvious strategies—on the surface, anyway. As for how deep this game actually went, that remained to be seen.
“The destroyer has reached Klaxon’s moon,” Winterton reported at last. “She appears to be making her way behind it, sir.”
Fascinating. Teth’s gambits continued to come off as incredibly facile. “Alter our course to give the moon a wide berth, Kaboh,” Husher said. “If Teth has positioned artillery there, I want the option to break away quickly.”
“Aye, Captain. Calculating course now.”
The minutes continued to creep past, silent and uneventful. For all they knew, Teth could have slipped behind the moon and vanished. But what would be the point, other than to force the Vesta to use up some of her fuel on a wasted trip down Concord’s gravity well? Hardly a devastating blow.
It reminded him of their first engagement with the Ixan destroyer, in Wintercress, when she’d materialized on the dark side of Tyros’ moon, striking before the system’s sensor web could warn the Vesta of her presence. But this maneuver was reversed, with Teth slinking behind cover like an injured animal wanting only to lick its wounds.
“Circling the moon now, Captain,” Winterton said. “The destroyer is coming into view. She’s just sitting there in lunar orbit, oriented toward us.”
“Let’s see if we can’t liven things up a bit,” Husher said. “Tactical, arm two Hydras and two Gorgons. I’d also like six Banshees loaded in the tubes, either to supplement the more advanced missiles or to help shoot down incoming ordnance if need be.”
“Aye, sir.”
“The destroyer is maneuvering toward us,” Winterton said. “No shots fired yet, and she’s moving quite slowly.” The sensor operator blinked. “Sir, I’ve continued to conduct regular active scans of the system, and the results from the latest one just came back. I’m picking up something strange on radar.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. It’s unlike anything I’ve encountered or heard about. Whatever it is, it’s invisible to visual sensors, but the radio waves are bouncing off it just as though it were solid. It appears to be spherical in form, and centered on Klaxon’s moon. We’re trapped inside it, sir, with the Air Group trapped outside.”
A lump took shape in Husher’s throat. It seemed they’d been right about there being a trap, but completely off about its nature.
“Tactical, fire a Banshee at whatever that is from a port-side tube. Record the missile’s impact on visual sensors and play it for me, Winterton.”
Both officers got to work, but seconds later, Winterton had something else for
him, and it wasn’t welcome.
“The destroyer has begun firing missiles, Captain. They look to be more robots. Thirty-five in play already.”
“Point defense should account for those, but standby to use the loaded Banshees if necessary, Tactical, and to replace them in the tubes.”
“Missile impacting now, sir,” the sensor operator said. “Should I patch the live feed through to the main display?”
“Go ahead.”
Winterton did, just in time to catch the collision. This time, there were visual phenomena—namely, the brief flash of the Banshee exploding, followed by ripples of electric-blue energy that flowed out from the impact site.
“The destroyer just launched forty more missiles,” Winterton said. “Radar’s showing no effect on the structure’s integrity from our missile’s detonation. It…oh, God.”
“What, Ensign?”
“The sphere appears to be shrinking, sir. It’s closing in on us.”
Chapter 57
No Pressure
“Fire Banshees at the incoming missiles and switch out the programming for the Hydras already loaded in the tubes—I want them taking down robots instead.”
“Yes, sir,” Tremaine said, his jaw rigid as he focused on his work.
“What’s our capacitor charge?” Husher asked.
“Down to fifteen percent. Enough to assign tertiary laser projectors to assist with point defense, but not for long—likely only ten minutes or so.”
“A total of eighty-nine enemy missiles currently headed for us,” Winterton said, his voice as tense as Tremaine’s. “The destroyer is reversing thrust and rotating—it looks like Teth plans to fall back and use the moon for cover.”
“That’s no retreat,” Husher said. “He’ll come around the other side and hit us with his particle beam from behind.”
Winterton’s eyes widened at the possibility, but Husher just wanted to curse. He’d known full well that Teth would have something waiting here for him, but he’d assumed he could always pull out if things got too hairy, even if it meant speeding away at full engine power perpendicular to the ecliptic plane.
Now they were isolated from their Air Group and trapped in a shrinking space where Teth’s smaller, more maneuverable destroyer had the advantage. Even as Husher studied the tactical display in bewilderment, he saw eight Gok ships emerge from the asteroid field and head toward his stranded Air Group. Five more followed.
We need to get out of here, immediately. “Nav, set a course to pursue the destroyer that takes us through the missile barrage.”
Kaboh looked at him. “I cannot have heard that correctly.”
“You heard me. Lock it in and send it over to Helm, now. Tremaine, I want four more Hydras loaded into forward tubes as well as twelve Banshees, all programmed to target down missiles. Spray kinetic impactors into the approaching missile cloud, as well—hopefully we can take down a few more that way.”
“Yes, sir. This will reduce our remaining Hydras to the eight we’ve loaded into the port and starboard tubes for broadsides.”
“I’m aware of that. I’m also aware that this will guarantee we’ll take at least some of those robots on the hull. Damage Control will have their work cut out for them, and so will Chief Gamble’s marines, but better this than letting Teth fire that particle beam up our ass.” Husher turned to Kaboh. “How’s that course coming?”
“I just sent it to the Helm,” the Kaithian said, his voice strained.
“Good. I have another task for you. Assume the enemy destroyer’s acceleration tops ours by thirty percent and come up with an estimate for when we’ll be on the exact opposite side of the moon from it—that’s when I want the Vesta brought fully around, followed by bringing our engines up to one hundred percent. Collaborate with Tactical to figure out the moment Teth’s nose will appear around the moon’s horizon. Tactical, I want you to fill the space we expect the destroyer to occupy with kinetic impactors, as well as four Banshees for good measure.”
As both officers hunched over their consoles, Husher turned to his sensor operator. “Winterton, take a good look at that forcefield, or whatever the hell it is. I want you to figure out exactly what it centers on—is it the moon’s core, or is it a spot nearer its surface? My guess is the latter.”
“Yes, sir.”
A series of slight tremors ran through the deck and up Husher’s seat—that would be the robots they were taking on their hull. It killed him to picture the metal killers tearing through his ship, but it was what had to happen.
At last, they were through the cloud of robots, after only seventeen of them made it into the Vesta’s hull. Not the worst outcome, but certainly not good.
“Bringing her around,” Vy said, and Husher watched on the display as the remaining forward visual sensors showed a view of the dusty, barren moon, and then of the horizon they expected the enemy ship to appear over. “Engaging engines at full.”
“I’ve located the forcefield’s center, Captain,” Winterton said. “You were right. The forcefield centers on a point near the surface of the moon, on the side opposite us.”
“Then that’ll be the site of whatever’s powering it. I doubt Teth would be able to carry a generator big enough to power that thing aboard his ship, so the positioning makes sense.” Husher opened up a two-way channel with his marine commander. “Major Gamble, are you there?”
“I read you, Captain. My marines are in the process of mopping up our latest visitors.”
“Glad to hear it, but I’ll need you to take your best soldiers off that task. I’m assigning you with a mission that will probably decide whether we live or die today.”
“No pressure, then.”
“Nothing you can’t handle.” I hope. “Get two squads comprised of your best marines to Flight Deck Delta as quick as you can. Suit up before you go—combat pressure suits. Take some heavy artillery with you. Your job is to find and destroy whatever’s generating the forcefield currently pinning the Vesta against this big rock.”
“You can count on me, Captain.”
“Good man. Husher out.”
As he terminated the transmission, Tremaine spoke. “Firing kinetic impactors and four Banshees at the coordinates where we expect the destroyer to appear.”
Several long seconds later, Winterton said, “No sign of her, sir. We—oh. There she is—she’s cresting the horizon underneath us!”
Husher gritted his teeth as he processed the fact that Teth had played him again. “Helm, engage attitude thrusters to lower our port side twenty degrees.”
“Aye, sir,” Vy said.
Husher tried not to dwell on the ordnance he’d sent tearing through empty space instead of the enemy destroyer’s hull. “Tactical, be ready to fire our port-side Hydra broadside the moment the targeting becomes viable.”
“Yes, sir.”
Next, Winterton spoke the words Husher had been dreading: “Superheating along our port side, sir.”
“Helm, standby to accelerate away the moment those Hydras have left the launch tubes.”
An explosion rocked the ship. “That was two rows of point defense turrets exploding, as well as a secondary capacitor bank,” Winterton said. Another explosion. “Several laser projectors in the area were just obliterated,” the sensor operator added.
“Tremaine?” Husher said.
“Firing Hydras now, sir.”
“Full power to engines, Helm,” Husher barked. “Squeeze every drop of acceleration they’ll give us.”
His eyes riveted to a splitscreen showing a tactical overview alongside sensor readouts, Husher watched as the destroyer continued her circuit around the moon, methodically neutralizing the thirty-two missiles screaming her way, one by one.
The missiles’ targeting systems were sophisticated, and they’d track Teth until he managed to deal with them all. Hopefully, the volley would buy Gamble and his marines the space they needed to get down to the moon, but Husher didn’t think for a second that the Ixan was
finished.
The smaller, faster ship had the clear advantage in the ever-shrinking space between the forcefield and the moon. If this fight dragged on much longer, Husher knew they were all doomed.
Chapter 58
Major Peter Gamble
Gamble expected no trouble getting his best marines to Flight Deck Delta on time, but getting the shuttle and pilot he wanted there was another story.
As he sprinted through the corridors toward where he needed to be, assault rifle at the ready in case any robots decided to come through the bulkhead at him, he made a snap decision.
“Chief Haynes,” he said over a two-way channel, “I want you to leave Flight Deck Alpha and fly around the Vesta to Flight Deck Delta and pick us up. Think you can do that? I need you there in seven minutes, max.”
“Not what I’d call the safest maneuver, in the middle of an engagement,” Haynes said.
“Oh, is that why your callsign is Psycho?” Gamble said as he ran. “Is it because you like to sit around in the comfort of your home and sip tea? Is that why you signed up to fly a combat shuttle?”
A brief pause, and Haynes said, “How did you know my callsign? They gave me that in flight school. I haven’t told anyone here.”
“I know a lot of things, Chief Haynes, including that I’ll kick your ass if you’re not on Flight Deck Delta with the Vesta’s best combat shuttle by the time I arrive there.”
“Yes, sir,” Haynes said quickly. “On my way. Haynes out.”
Probably the pilot knew Gamble was joking, but there was still a note of uncertainty in his voice. Gamble liked it that way. He didn’t enjoy making threats, but he also didn’t enjoy lacking what he wanted when he needed it most. In that sense, a climate of healthy fear of what Gamble might do wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
As his last couple marines were running across the flight deck, the inner hatch opened on one of the airlocks, and the combat shuttle Gamble had wanted descended from it, landing neatly a few meters away from his people.
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