Broken Halo (Wayfarers)

by Debenham, Kindal

  Wong tapped a finger on his console, absently marking time as the scouts went out. It was not his place to speculate on his superior officer’s motives, far less to make guesses about his past and reputation, yet his mind would not let the puzzle alone. A picture was forming, one that included a false story and a figurehead officer—one that did not bode well for his ship or the task force it led.

  Before he could consider the situation further, a watchstander spoke up from the sensor station. “Captain, we have sensor contacts approaching us from area Nine-Five-Four. They appear to be enemy scouts.”

  Wong traced a path on the display, pulling up the image to look at the area the watchstander had told him about. A trio of blips marked the incoming rigs, and he smiled. They’d found them again. “Instruct the WGCs to pursue, but not destroy, their scouts. I want a location on the enemy main body before the day is done.”

  The watchstanders answered him, and Wong nodded with satisfaction as the first few WGCs made contact. Then his eyebrows rose sharply. Before, when the enemy had met his scouts, they had been chased back to their own lines with little effort. This time, however, two of the green dots representing his outriders vanished immediately, and the remaining pair broke off pursuit. A signal reached the command deck a moment later. “Four-Four-S to Imperious. The enemy has interceptors in their patrol! Continuing pursuit, but we need backup.”

  As the green dots swerved back onto intercept vectors, the three blips pulled away, retreating rather than continuing their combat. At least, that was what seemed to happen until another of the WGCs vanished—Four-Four-S had just followed the fate of his comrades. Clearly the enemy was running, but not so frantically that they couldn’t fire back. The last dot jerked and danced as if still evading fire as well.

  Wong spoke up, his voice cold. “Tell the last scout to pull back. There’s no point in losing another rig if we don’t have to.” A moment later, Four-Five-S responded and began the long loop back to the Imperious. The blips representing the enemy rigs continued to retreat, and then they faded as the final scout’s sensors lost contact. Wong continued to consider the space where they’d vanished, his mind working at full speed.

  The introduction of armed patrols was a new, deadly aspect to this pursuit. He couldn’t continue to risk only equipping his WGCs for a recon mission if there was the chance that enemy interceptors would eliminate them. That meant he would have to escort the recon types with interceptor WGCs of his own—thus wearing down his rig pilots and forcing him to restrict the number of their patrols. Or he would have to compromise the scouts’ equipment in favor of heavier armor and weapons to allow them to survive combat. Either option meant that his search for the Wayfarers would be slowed considerably. It also meant that the opponent he was facing had learned their trade very, very well.

  Yet somehow, Wong was beginning to doubt that Susan Delacourt had done so while she was serving under Admiral Nevlin.

  He gave new orders. “Have the task force recover our scouts. Rearm them with partial combat loads, and then redeploy along the vector those rigs used for their retreat. Designate a wide search area; they may have changed directions once they were out of sensor contact.” The change in equipment would hamper the scouts’ effectiveness, but he had no intention of sending pilots into combat without weaponry of their own. “Move, people—we don’t have much time.”

  The other officers on the bridge began to build into a frantic level of activity, and the scouts returned to the ships of the task force even as new rigs began to launch. Wong watched the activity with steady attention, and wondered what new surprises his prey would have for him.

  Susan watched the rigs from her patrol retreat back toward the Penance. Paladin-One-One had scored the last kill and reported minor damage to her legs, but the sensor reports from Prophet-Five were what truly caught her attention. The multiple WGCs the RSR had picked up were all now inbound toward the main body of the enemy fleet. She smiled. Apparently the losses had convinced the Directorate task force to pull in their patrols to rearm. At the very least, it would reduce the risk of a stray patrol giving the game away.

  Yet it was still too early to celebrate. The Penance was closing the distance slightly, continuing to send out patrols to probe the edges of the enemy formation. Colonel Mccalister was running a significant risk by going closer to the Directorate forces than he had to, but she could see the logic behind the move. The closer the Penance was, the better the former mercenary carrier could use that position to draw the enemy away from the Concord and the rest of the fleet.

  Still, she didn’t want that ship to bear the burden of being the Directorate’s target for any longer than it had to. Susan turned to Commander Mesic. “How much longer before the fleet is in formation?”

  The commander shook his head. “Only a few more minutes, Admiral. The gravitic linkages might take slightly longer, but I believe they will be ready far in advance of any enemy contact.” He paused and glanced at his own display. “We have an incoming signal from Colonel Mccalister.”

  Susan tapped her own console and brought up the transmission. Mccalister looked very tense, but his voice carried no hint of fatigue or concern.

  “Penance to Command. Our detachment is currently skirmishing with enemy units two and a half hours outside your own engagement zone. No casualties to report at this time, though that may change as the fight continues.” He paused and a second screen showed a display matching the one on the main projection, though from the pocket carrier’s point of view. A line began from the Penance’s position and streaked in an oblique course through the system, skirting the edges of the Directorate formation before looping around to join the main fleet.

  “We intend to draw the enemy away for several more hours. Every effort will be made to occupy their patrols, though we will avoid any contact with their gunships and escorts.” Mccalister glanced to one side, as if receiving a report from off screen, and then nodded. “Our anticipated time of return to the fleet is fifteen hours, forty minutes. Communications blackout will be observed as much as possible to preserve the security of the fleet.” He paused again, and then saluted. “May the Lord bless our journey. Penance out.”

  Susan watched as the three mercenary vessels accelerated, their extra speed hopefully giving them enough velocity to pass by the closest of the enemy formations without direct contact. At the same time, a second patrol made contact with the Directorate forces, sweeping their formation with sensors before they were caught by a WGC response flight. The four Directorate rigs closed with them, and then reeled away as the CTRs escorting Prophet-Seven tore into them. Her plan was working perfectly—but she was not done yet.

  With a determined smile, Susan turned to her rig watchstander, who was waiting anxiously. “Keep the pilots on alert status for now, and maintain the RSR patrols. We may have our own work to do soon.”

  An hour later, as the task force proceeded after their target in pursuit, Captain Wong let his eyes narrow.

  The pursuit had now lasted the better part of four hours, a surprise considering his analysis of the data from their previous encounter. His WGC scouts had taken several very clear readings of the Wayfarer fleet in the last system, and there had been enough information for the Intelligence Center on the Imperious to definitively identify several of their ships. Some of those had included Packman-class barges, meant for bulk transport and long-distance passenger freight. They were hardly the sort of ships capable of maintaining such a steady pace, even if they weren’t forming up for a resonance cascade.

  Even more telling was the fact that despite the increasing accuracy and frequency of the WGC patrols, Wong had yet to see a clear sensor contact on the main body of the Wayfarer fleet. All he’d seen so far had been a motley collection of outdated, heavily modified Guard cruisers—Hoplite-class ships, unless he missed his guess. While it was possible that he was only seeing a rearguard left behind deliberately to obscure the rest of their forces, he was beginning to suspect that the
enemy had led him astray.

  All of which would have been far less painful a realization to make had Admiral Nevlin not finally made the decision to appear on the command deck—to “witness the ultimate victory of the Known Worlds over the traitors,” as he put it—only a handful of minutes ago.

  The rest of the bridge crew had seemed to take note of their captain’s attitude, and a subtle tension had filled the command deck as the minutes ticked on. Nevlin continued to watch and wait from his command chair, positioned regally at a point where he could look out over the rest of the watch stations, yet in a place that denied him any opportunity to effectively see the main display. Captain Wong studied the man for a moment, and then made a decision. In the absence of the Admiral’s direction, he was still in command of the task force, and it would be his duty to inform the Admiral of the enemy’s deception. He stepped forward, picking his way around the main display until he was at the Admiral’s right hand.

  Nevlin turned his head a fraction. “Captain Wong.”

  “Admiral.” Wong drew in a breath to steady himself. “Sir, I believe that this force is a diversion.”

  Nevlin’s gaze sharpened, and he turned his seat around to face Wong fully. “Do you, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir.” Wong braced himself, his back ramrod straight as he prepared for the reprimand he knew he deserved.

  To his surprise, no rebuke came. He resisted the urge to look at the Admiral directly, keeping his gaze locked straight ahead. Then Admiral Nevlin sighed. “Well then, Captain, what would you have us do?”

  The question surprised Wong. At the very least he would have expected orders, but for the Admiral to continue to place operational control with his flag captain was almost negligent. Nevertheless, he recovered quickly. “The central group of the task force can continue pursuit, and keep up the level of patrols to make the enemy think that their ruse has worked. Meanwhile, our other formations can …” He trailed off as the Admiral waved his words away.

  “Yes, yes. I can see you have a wonderful plan.” Nevlin turned a deliberately contemptuous gaze on Wong and smiled. “Execute it immediately, but remember—if you do not bring the Wayfarers to battle this time, there will be consequences, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand. By your leave, sir.” Wong stepped back and turned to the bridge crew, the same watchstanders who had likely witnessed the unpleasant exchange. They were the ones who depended on him now to bring them victory and honor at the conclusion of their mission. He tried to focus on that as he began his orders, and not on the fact that his superior officer seemed completely uninterested in how the battle was progressing.

  It was harder than he could ever have admitted to himself.

  Susan watched the display as the Penance began another course change. The main group had only been getting periodic reports from the detachment, especially now that most of their signals would have passed through the enemy task force to reach the Concord, but that had been enough to keep up with Mccalister’s position. He’d led the enemy almost as far away as they’d planned, clear out beyond the nine-hour limit, and now the mercenary ships were curving back and down, beginning the long turn that would return them to the main fleet.

  Unfortunately, she had much less of a clear view of the enemy task force. They were obviously still behind the Penance—the bright pinpricks of the enemy scouts glowed repeatedly around the detachment, hedging the ships in and dogfighting with their patrols—but Mccalister had been compelled to pull in his own scouts out of sheer defensive reflex. As it was, that defense ran tight. The pilots from Paladin Squadron were already being stretched to their limits keeping the WGCs off the pocket carrier, and the enemy was beginning to get more aggressive. Before long, Susan expected to start seeing heavy attack equipment on the WGCs, and she toyed with the idea of sending a batch of reinforcements from the Concord to help stiffen Mccalister’s defenses.

  While she was still thinking over the idea, her rig watchstander suddenly straightened up. When Susan looked to her, she found the officer pale with shock. “Ensign Jarmaine?”

  “Report from our perimeter scouts, ma’am.” The watchstander turned. “We have incoming WGCs.”

  Susan blinked. “What vector?” A bright line appeared on her screen, along with the red dots of enemy rig contacts near the patrol. Her eyes widened as she traced that line, and she drew in a sharp breath when she realized how close those rigs already were. “Tell the patrol to avoid contact. Begin scrambling our rig squadrons.”

  As Jarmaine bent to the task, the officer at the sensor watch station jerked in his seat. He raised his voice in obvious panic. “Admiral, I have contacts on my sensors. I’m putting them on your console.”

  She nodded, and her breath grew quicker as red blotches of capital ship contacts began to blaze on her display. There was one batch of them coming in where she had expected, diving sharply toward the fleet from above. Yet there were two more groups, sweeping in from the sides and slightly below, catching the fleet in a classic double envelopment. Susan barely restrained a curse as she realized how close they were, and she flicked a switch to display those same contacts on the main plot.

  There was a shocked rush of voices as those ships appeared, and Susan stood to draw their attention to her. She gave her orders in a calm, steady voice that betrayed none of the surprise and fear running through her. “Command to fleet. Defense Force ships are to assume defensive hedgehog formation, with the Concord as the fleet guide. RSR squadrons, establish a fallback position and begin preparation for Contingency Gamma; Paladin Squadron, you are to take up perimeter defense. All ships are to immediately accelerate toward the fallback position.”

  Another murmur swept through the command deck. Only this time, there was a worried edge to it. Susan tried to ignore it, though she knew the reason it was there. In a defensive screen, the units of the Defense Forces would be best able to respond to the encirclement by the enemy, but it would also prevent the fleet from forming the gravitic lattice for a resonance cascade. Yet she had no choice. The enemy was too close and moving too quickly for her to leave her ships exposed, as she had before. There was no chance that they could escape by resonance cascade; she could only hope that the contingency plan she had arranged with the fleet’s scout rigs was enough to let them avoid destruction now.

  Susan didn’t let her personnel dwell on that fact. She continued in that same cold voice, reminding them that now was neither the time nor the place to lose control. “Contact Colonel Mccalister and inform him that the decoy operation is now aborted. He is to proceed at maximum speed and the most direct possible course to rejoin the fleet.”

  As the communications watchstander bent to his work, Susan watched the fleet respond to her orders. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the incoming enemy groups begin to sprout the smaller, fuzzier contacts of rig units, mentally measuring their approach against the beginning of her fleet’s withdrawal. The Wayfarer ships wouldn’t escape the trap completely, but at the very least they would be ready for the enemy when they came.

  She looked up from her display and met Commander Mesic’s gaze for a moment. He nodded solemnly and resumed his work at his station as the battle alarms began to sound.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gabriel launched from the Concord’s rig bays into a sea of chaos.

  The organization of the fleet was shredding, falling apart at the seams as the carefully arranged cascade formation broke up. Many of the lightest civilian ships were running straight for the rear, obviously intending to get as far from the battle lines as possible before the shooting started. Heavier transports and cargo craft were trying to do the same thing, though their lumbering bulk couldn’t quite keep up with the pace.

  By sharp contrast, the Defense Forces were taking up their assigned positions with smooth, disciplined maneuvers. Two of the Deliverance-class cruisers faced each approaching enemy fleet. The Caravan-class frigates each moved to hold one of the flanks alongside those cruisers, while the Concord h
erself slid between the cruisers facing forward. Escort craft filled the spaces between those three parts of the fleet, and their small, stubby forms reassured Gabriel that the enemy couldn’t get through so easily.

  The armored bows faced outward, presenting the best defenses to the enemy while the fleet slid away from them, but Gabe knew that the hedgehog-style formation could only hold up as long as the Defense Forces’ tetherdrives could keep up with the Directorate ships. If the Directorate craft managed to edge out and around the sides of the Wayfarer ships, they could fire on the weaker broadside armor and wreak havoc on the defenders, perhaps catching the ships on the opposite side on their vulnerable aft sections. Worse, if they raced out ahead of the Wayfarer withdrawal, they could fire on the fragile civilian craft.

  All of which made it that much more important that the enemy never get that chance. Gabe cleared his throat and selected the frequency that let him speak to all the rig pilots in the fleet. “Angel-One to rigs. We need to stop the enemy cold this time. Don’t hold back.” He paused, considering the incoming Directorate units. “CTRs, we’re going to have to clean out any incoming WGCs. Focus on the heavy-assault types; they’re the ones that can hit the cruisers and civvies the hardest. AWOR squadrons, we’ll try to clear you a path through to the enemy ships. Make the most of your first pass. It might be the only one we can give you.”

  Acknowledgements rolled back to him from the squadron and flight leaders, and then Gabe moved forward, leaving behind the defensive hedgehog with the other CTRs. They needed to intercept incoming rigs before they reached attack range, or the cruisers would be hurting. He half hoped that the enemy had come in without interceptor WGCs, but he didn’t think that the Lord had blessed them with idiots for enemies today.