Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting

by Gregory Faccone

  We can't have a lot of ammo for that thing. It's too big.

  The Perigeum gruppe didn't deviate, apparently not believing some ancient corvette a threat. That was about to change. Aurora needed to spread her wings for best maneuvering and to open fire. He wanted to fly with her and assented mentally to her request.

  The bridge lights dimmed. The physical space compacted and strengthened, though the display of stars grew more expansive somehow. A whole new world of systems opened before Jordahk's awareness as the Hesperus Aurora, for the first time in two centuries, reverted to its true form with full potency.

  "There's no going back now, Max."

  "Yeah, everybody with a history datalattice is going to have a smelt-down."

  The engine and weapon nacelles to either side extended on outriggers like wings. The fuselage smoothed and pointed, flaring toward the rear like the feathers of a bird of prey. Everything felt different and streamlined, from the displays to the feel of the command couch. Jordahk, invigorated, felt as though he could fly straight through that destroyer and not feel it. He had to school such thoughts before he did something foolish.

  The weapons accumulated more energy in true configuration, and maneuvering jumped an order of magnitude. Shots from the three ships, which had been close, were way off now. They would only have this element of surprise once. Next pass, the P-Stars wouldn't allow such an approach. He was determined to make this one count.

  While in the command couch, talking seemed a slower way to communicate. "Move one of the drones behind us."

  The corvette moved like a starfighter, twisting through space before finally lining up for the shot. Jordahk began to enhance the already formidable weapons despite himself.

  He grit his teeth. "Take your shot, Khai."

  The girl worked with Aurora to determine the best target area and moment to fire. A flame ran through his fingers as both wings ignited, releasing their salvos. A thick, whitish-pink beam lanced into the back of the destroyer. Shielding pancaked into space, forming a rippled disk. An instant later, the gigantic granix boulder impacted at hypergun speeds. The target thruster vaporized, and the entire rear of the destroyer cratered. The ship lurched at the impact, thrust stopped, and errant plasma sprayed randomly.

  A flurry of fire leaped at them from the other two ships. The range was too close to avoid it all. The two drones up front bore the brunt, but the Aurora also took hits.

  "Now, ram the rear drone!"

  They pulled away with abandon, spiraling through space. The trailing drone broke off from their wake at closest approach and steered directly for the broken destroyer, taking significant intercept gun hits the whole way in. Its shields broke down right before impact. It rammed into the thruster cluster. The rear of the destroyer distended and exploded. It spun in space, leaving behind a spiral trail of debris, and began launching boats.

  Jordahk, exhilarated and sweating, closed his eyes as they steered away.

  "What colors would you like me to fly?" Aurora asked.

  It was time to make history work for them.

  "Numen ArgoNav."

  A strange alarm sounded on the flag bridge, but not below on the ship bridge. Janus had never heard it before, yet somehow it scared him. His flag admiral also squinted with bemusement. Then his eyes grew wide and his face turned dead serious.

  Janus looked at Sybaris with the obvious question on his face.

  "Sojourners."

  The word sent a chill down his spine.

  It got quiet, and Flag Admiral Buisart nodded to him in solemn confirmation. "I haven't heard that alarm since academy."

  The world spun for a moment, and Janus struggled to not let it show.

  "It is within your authority to squelch the alarm before it is passed on to the fleet," Sybaris said.

  He took a deep breath, then his eyes hardened. "No. Everyone will find out soon enough. Let it go through. Buisart, if there's a Centurion on the field, I want to see it."

  An image of an unusual ship appeared large on the main display. It was reminiscent of a soaring bird. Two small drones flew in formation with it. AI measurement lines flicked across its surface, and a match from the history datalattice displayed.

  Murmurs traveled from one end of the chamber to the other.

  "Numen ArgoNav?" The flag admiral shook his head in disbelief. "Hes... Hesperus class."

  It was a notorious class, associated with incredible battles, disasters, and the mysterious Khromas.

  "You succeeded in flushing out the X-factors," Sybaris said dryly.

  Flag Admiral Buisart stood formally. "Prime Orator Janus, our advantage will not survive the kinds of losses incurred by a Draconem Battle type of... incident."

  "Weren't there two destroyers with that command cruiser?" Janus asked. "Play it back." He made a chopping action toward Sybaris with his hand. "Not on the main display, you dolt."

  On the flag bridge, they watched the ship transform and ambush the destroyer, which couldn't possibly have been prepared for the encounter.

  Janus enlarged the trimensional fleet nav. "Your assessment, admiral."

  The flag admiral gulped then collected himself. "Our advantage is greater than the Vallum Corps can overcome. Barring any significant unforeseen factor, they'll have to give up the planet and retreat or be destroyed."

  Sybaris highlighted indicators for the incoming unknown squadron.

  "What about them?" Janus demanded.

  "They arrive at hill bottom in two hours. It'll take them a few more to get into engagement range. Six upper end cruisers, and what looks like a dozen ward frigates. It's significant firepower, but if we continue pressing forward without delay, we'll wipe out too much tonnage for them to tip the scales back."

  "Display mystic and hybrid ships only."

  The nav thinned out to a small number of ships. The First Cruiser, of course. Three recently arrived destroyers, the first of the new production models. One small, qualifying ship was hiding at the rear of the Perigeum forces among the colliers. Its ident unsurprising.

  "An Archiver frigate." They had offered no help for this battle. "Enjoy the sightseeing, flux-jerk." Other indications included the two drones and the Hesperus, and two large ships in the Vallum Corps line of unknown design. Farther back was an old mystic frigate and numerous other readings at a largely mystic staryard section. "I don't like X-factors, Admiral. Angle our line toward that mystic yard. I want to fire upon it as soon as possible."

  "That will delay destruction of their remaining battlestation."

  "Their battlestation holds no surprises, but that dusty yard has become a threat."

  "It will also make us more vulnerable to the incoming squadron."

  Janus didn't try to hide his annoyance. Flag admiral was an appointed position, like field commander. He had chosen Buisart among many who would have relished the posting. He thought the man tactically sound and obedient. Of course, that's what they said about his last appointment, the field commander at Adams Rush. He wasn't having much luck in such things.

  "May I make a suggestion, Prime Orator?" Sybaris asked. She continued without pause. "Dispatch some fresh frigates to back up that wandering command cruiser and remaining destroyer, and angle the line less severely so we may still fire upon the battlestation within a reasonable frame."

  Buisart nodded quickly, not caring from where suggestion came.

  Janus assented, but with reluctance. "Charge the drakking ship-cannon."

  "Hesperus class? The Hesperus class?"

  Mason literally rubbed his eyes and peered at his display. Ancient symbols appeared on the display from a war 200 years past. The vintage relic that kid had come in on was more than it seemed, a lot more. Who was he? And who was down in that staryard? He had a lot of questions, and no time to ask them.

  He had never fought with Sojourners at his side, or whoever they were. Few alive had. He was wise enough to not order them, and smart enough to leave them to their own strategy. They would call if t
hey needed something. It was more likely, as attrition took its toll, he would be the one calling them.

  The retreating Vallum Corps line reached the battlestation. They began the shifting formation dance that would keep them all alive a little longer. Ships would move beside the station, angling their strongest shields outward to absorb fire. Damaged and repairing ships swung behind it, enjoying momentary respite.

  A battlestation's fusion-powered shields were more powerful than those of starkeel ships, and their firepower was significant. The Perigeum line had to begin their own formation dances to spread out the damage, and their advance slowed. The Vallum Corps was buying time.

  But to what end?

  Mason was ready to accept reality, though he didn't like it. Superior numbers made the enemy's approach inexorable. The Perigeum stretched their line out on the space side. This gave them a better angle at Windermere's orbital infrastructure. The civilian and industrial stations were a prize, and not likely to be fired upon, but the hours were numbered for anything military.

  Advancing on a battlestation took care. The Perigeum formations were in defensive posture while they looked for an opening. Time was on their side. In the proceeding minutes, they dished out more than they took. And that wasn't considering the awe-inspiring firepower of their flagship. Even now his readings showed it nearly ready to fire again.

  Coming around from the back of the battlestation was green gruppe, his most damaged. It contained more ships needing to be taken off the line than were capable of staying in the game. But they were from Adams Rush and refused to give up. He knew how they felt. Everyone from the Adams Rush contingent was going the extra distance to make up for the mistakes of their countrymen.

  Suddenly, the Perigeum line shifted. It was too sudden. An ambush.

  "Green gruppe, emergency maneuver: Get back behind the battlestation. All groups make way."

  "They will not reach shelter in time," the ship AI said.

  "Green gruppe, all ships maneuver independently. It's a focused beat. Best speed!"

  A concentrated barrage of Perigeum fire, T-Beams followed by rocks, crossed space and slammed into green gruppe. Flashes of light grew streaks of debris on crisscrossed courses. A cruiser shook, somehow maintaining headway. An entire section of destroyer exploded, spreading a fading plasma cloud. The ship continued to limp behind the station.

  Two frigates were crushed. One ripped apart, not even having a chance to explode. Another nosed down, out of control. Gushes of plasma and eruptions crossed its surface as boats launched. But before even half of them were away, and despite that it was clearly finished, the Perigeum fired upon it again.

  Without shields, incoming fire perforated the ship. It jerked, tossing boats out on crazy, tumbling courses before finally tearing itself into exploding debris.

  Mason's anger at the invaders rekindled anew. "Radiated pawns."

  Most of the surviving boats went for emergency reentry onto Windermere. For remaining crew in suits or trapped in hulks, Rescue and Recovery was out there in modified shuttles. In a battle without starfighters and corvette squadrons, they flew with relative impunity, below the notice of enemy guns as long as they kept their distance.

  Defensive scrambling only delayed the inevitable for the Vallum Corps. The hardly mobile battlestation was taking too much fire. It was the right moment to launch a counterattack.

  With what?

  Mason looked across space, toward the strange battle within a battle happening on the fringe of his flank. The kid could hardly qualify as a counterattack, but he was dishing it out and drawing increasing attention from the Perigeum.

  A gruppe of his heavy hitters had just gone behind the battlestation. His firepower was at its lowest ebb. Not surprisingly, the Perigeum held until this moment. They focused a beat onto the battlestation. Its mighty fusion shields floundered in wavering color.

  Though the uncharacteristically disorganized Vallum Corps wasn't following beats of battle, he focused everything immediately available in a counterattack. It forced a P-Star cruiser off the line and seriously damaged a destroyer.

  A rock penetrated the faltering battlestation shields, and an explosion blossomed on one of its power plants. Not long after, an alert sounded signaling that the monster ship was ready to deal death again.

  "That's it," Mason ordered, "evacuate the battlestation. To the boats."

  The station could live out its last minutes on automatic, if it even had minutes. He had to deal some damage in return when the inevitable came.

  "All ships, note my targeting priority and timing. Get in position."

  In a moment came words he dreaded but expected. "The First Cruiser is firing," his ship AI said.

  Energy readings on the Perigeum flagship spiked preposterously high, and an immense pink-edged beam speared through a tunnel of ships to strike the battlestation square. It easily bored through weakened shields and vaporized the center of the heavy station as if pulper. The outer sections tumbled free, disintegrating or exploding outright.

  The beam held together, burning across the atmosphere of the planet, destroying satellites and obliterating an unlucky shuttle before disappearing like a pink star in blue space.

  Before the Perigeum tunnel of ships leading to the First Cruiser could close, the Vallum Corps executed Mason's fire plan. It wasn't the one the Perigeum was expecting. The First Cruiser remained untouched, but the Aegis on its starboard side took many hits. The granix plates an Aegis manipulated for shielding crumbled one after another. Even its mighty defense couldn't take that much directed punishment.

  With its plates blown away, prodigious fire struck the hull. A section of the ship cracked before exploding. The Aegis veered on a collision course with the First Cruiser. Thrust rings on the massive flagship gushed brightly as it performed an emergency maneuver. Surprisingly, or maybe not, all of its starboard guns opened up on the failing Aegis. It broke apart before collision.

  "All ships, new directive," came over the comm. It was Deputy Polemarkh Garwood. The signal codes affirmed the Polemarkh was now taking back direct control. "Retreat behind the egress."

  It was the message Mason hoped to never hear. Losing command wasn't the issue. He wanted to cling to a slim chance of victory rather than give in to a course with none.

  The Vallum Corps line was already beginning to break up and head back as he opened a priority comm to the command cruiser. "Sir, I must ask you to reconsider. The battlefield remains fluid. There's still a chance."

  "You've made your opinion known," Garwood said. Behind him was more confusion than Mason would have expected to see on the flag bridge. "Those are the Polemarkh's orders. Is there going to be a problem, captain?"

  Mason took that as a dismissal rather than a question that required a response.

  A new comm opened. "You may have a rebellion over this," Thaddeus said. His face was drawn and grim, his bridge hazy. "I don't think our Demeter friends will go along with giving up, not if there are Sojourners on the field."

  There was no set formation for the Vallum Corps ships now that they were in full retreat to the egress, but clearly, the two Demeter Charbon Trebuchets were not participating. One lagged behind, using its ward drones to cover former members of its squadron. The other was making best speed across what was once the Vallum Corps line.

  "You're right," Mason said. "They're heading for the mystic skirmish. And I don't blame them." The situation was increasingly frustrating. "We should blow the egress before we let the P-Stars control it. For all we know they can get it working in a couple of weeks. Then there'll be no taking back Windermere, no matter how many squadrons we amass."

  "Then you better start shooting it now. Even without shields, it's as tough as a battlestation." Thaddeus looked thoughtful. "I have an uneasy feeling, Mason. Prime Orator Janus could always be counted on to accumulate Perigeum power. But since the Egress Incident he's been acting strangely. I think he took it personally. I don't know what he'll do here, and that
concerns me."

  "And Havenaur's lost it. Ever since he didn't stand up to Van Buren. Smelting premature transition! This is a fine mess. We've got to stay mobile. Ships can dodge that monster cannon at range. We can stay in the game... and hope." He deflated after his venting. "I don't suppose you've prayed for a miracle?" Historically, things beyond coincidental happened when Patram was involved.

  "As a matter of fact, I have."

  "What're we supposed to do with this mystic frigate?" Jordahk asked.

  "Hopefully stay behind it," Gasket said. He was somewhere near the thrusters, doing emergency repairs.

  "I've successfully linked systems," Aurora said. "We can use it as a mobile guardian."

  That was handy seeing as three fresh Perigeum frigates had entered the private little skirmish he was having with the command cruiser and destroyer. Two of them were chasing his growing flotilla, and the third pulled up to the command cruiser as replacement escort.

  "That command cruiser's the linchpin," Jordahk said. "I want to punch it hard in the nose. If we can do enough damage, maybe they'll pull back from this flank."

  "Corvettes don't have that kind of power," Max said.

  "This one does."

  "The incoming heavy squadron just reached hill bottom," Khai said.

  "They pushed the safety envelope," Max added.

  "Yes, I estimate they shaved an hour off approach," Aurora said.

  Jordahk scanned the heavies, plugging their capabilities into the larger battle scheme. "Those three are big for cruisers. What are they?"

  "It's the new Thunar class, coming off the lines at Svalbergen," Max said.

  "Fusebox comm from the heavy squadron," Khai said. "It is... your father?"

  The face of Kord Wilkrest appeared. He was on the bridge of a warship in an executive station next to its captain. The visual was light speed-delayed. The audio was fusebox real-time.

  "Dard?"

  "Jordahk? What're you doing out there?"

  "Trying to make a difference?" Jordahk said sheepishly. "I'm not sure this qualifies as the most dangerous thing I've done this mission."