[Rogue Trader 01] - Rogue Star

by Andy Hoare - (ebook by Undead)

  The effort was wasted, though, for the damage to the drive section was such that it entered a critical chain reaction before it could entirely separate, disappearing as it was swallowed in a rapidly expanding ball of the purest, most blinding white light. Lucian turned his head away as the viewing port dimmed to compensate for the blast, bracing himself against the blast’s wave front that buffeted his vessel less than a second later. He was shocked, for a moment, at me violence of the alien vessel’s death.

  He glanced at the holograph, which was still recovering from the interference created by the vessel’s demise. The outer ships were completing their manoeuvre, and he quickly chose his next victim, reading off its coordinates to the helmsman.

  “What next, sir?” called Raldi. “They’re closing on us!”

  “Now.” Lucian called back, “we make for the Rosetta and pray that Korvane has the good sense to take advantage of the little distraction we’ve just created, and gets back to his ship.”

  “And then, sir?”

  “Then it’s just a small matter of fighting our way clear.”

  “Of all six alien ships, sir?”

  “Stop asking awkward questions and do your job, Mister Raldi. All power, on previous heading, if you please.”

  Lucian leant back in his command throne, inwardly still quite shocked at the manner of the death of the alien ship. Despite the power of its primary weapons batteries, its class was evidently incapable of withstanding a couple of good broadsides. He knew, however, that the scales would soon be evened, as the other alien ships were inbound and scarcely likely to allow him to get as close to them as he had to their flagship.

  “Four minutes, sir,” said the helmsman, Lucian seeing from the holograph that the alien vessel onto which he had locked was coming around, attempting to bring its forward weapons batteries to bear on his ship.

  “This is going to sting,” Lucian said, addressing no one in particular. “Shields to full, helm, bring us in on our port. Port weapons, stand by.”

  The Oceanid lined up its prey, the gulf between the two vessels closing rapidly. At ten kilometres, the alien ship opened fire, its forward weapons flashing as they threw hyper-velocity projectiles across the void.

  The first volley went wide, thanks to the fact that the Oceanid was prow on to the other ship, but mere seconds later it unleashed a second, this one far more accurate, and deadly.

  Lucian felt the Oceanid stagger beneath him as the enemy weapons hit home, blasting great chunks out of her armoured prow. The bridge was plunged into almost total darkness, lit only by the strobe of a third volley fired by the closing ship.

  This volley struck the port superstructure a glancing blow, an entire fin tearing itself free of the hull and spinning crazily into space. A series of secondary explosions sounded through the deck, and Lucian judged that these were the forward conversion plants. We can survive without them, he told himself, if we can survive this.

  “Helm! Full retros, ten second burn. Cut mains to fifty per cent.” Lucian ordered, as the distance between the two vessels passed the one kilometre mark. He knew he would get only one salvo in against this enemy, and even that might be bought at too high a price. He would not sit idly by and abandon his son to an alien invasion of Arris Epsilon, however, he would do all he could to afford Korvane the opportunity to escape.

  The Oceanid shuddered once more, the retro thrusters struggling to arrest her forward momentum. As the bridge lights sputtered back to life, Lucian saw from the read-outs that the alien vessel’s second volley had damaged one of the thrusters, and felt his ship veering to port under the uneven thrust.

  “Compensate, plus fifty to the starboard primary, plus twenty to the secondary,” he ordered the helm, feeling the Oceanid coming back on course.

  No sooner was his ship brought back under control than the two vessels were right on top of each other, and as the alien cruiser passed to starboard, Lucian roared, “Open fire! All port batteries!”

  The range was not so great, and the angle, nowhere near as good as the broadside on the first alien nonetheless, the volley was a good one. The mighty cannon spat death across the void, macro-shells crossing the gulf between the two vessels in seconds. The alien vessel had been preparing a fourth shot when the Oceanid’s broadside hit, its forward batteries caught in the process of turning to track and acquire their target.

  Half of the broadside merely glanced, or missed the target entirely, but the other half struck home. The alien vessel’s shields were smashed asunder, barely registering on Lucian’s read-outs. The macro-shells impacted at an apparently weak point between two of the modules slung under the ship’s spine, dislodging a protruding section of superstructure, which crashed into the forward of the modules. As Lucian watched, the module exploded violently, secondary explosions blossoming forwards to engulf the lower portion of the vessel’s prow. At the last, the three remaining modules ejected, spinning off into space as the crippled vessel disengaged, evidently seeking to put as much space between itself and the Oceanid as possible, in as short a time as it could.

  Lucian laughed out loud for the joy of it all, scarcely able to believe that he had seen off a second alien vessel in one day.

  “Who was it once said you never feel more alive than when someone’s just shot at you and missed?” he asked no one in particular, revelling in the familiar feeling of victory. He looked to the holograph for the next target.

  “Sir,” called the helmsman. “Shall I adjust?”

  “What?” Lucian asked, looking to the holograph in search of whatever Raldi was talking about. “I see nothing. What is it?”

  “Forty-five high to port, sir, inbound.”

  Lucian saw that the area of space to which Raldi referred was invisible to the augurs and black on the holograph, and would remain so until the augur arrays were repaired, following the damage done to them in the flight from Mundus Chasmata. He surged to his feet and crossed to the viewing port, immediately seeing what his helmsman was talking about.

  “Damn,” he said.

  A fleet of capital ships, all Imperial in design, was closing in on the Oceanid’s position. Lucian immediately saw from their heading that they were far from friendly. In fact, he knew immediately who they belonged to.

  “Gerrit!” The communications array burst into angry, hissing life. “Gerrit, this is Imperial Commander Culpepper Luneberg. I order you to kill your engines and surrender now. Do so and I shall show you mercy.”

  “Keep your mercy,” growled Lucian, turning to the servitor at station three. “Comms, open a channel to Korvane, wherever he is, right now.”

  He sat once more, his mind racing with the possibilities. He had faced tough odds when it was just the alien vessels he had to fight through, to link up with the Rosetta, but now he faced Luneberg’s fleet too, things looked decidedly grim. Yet still, he would not abandon his son.

  “Helm, best speed for the Rosetta, by the fastest route, if you will.” Lucian ordered.

  “Through the—?” Helmsman Raldi started to reply. “Centre of Luneberg’s fleet, yes, if that is the fastest route.” Lucian interjected. “Shields to full, main drives to full, all secondary systems to stand by.”

  Once again, servitors worked their consoles while the few men in the deck crew hurried to ensure that Lucian’s orders were enacted. In times such as these, it was evident that the servitors were more efficient in the prosecution of their tasks, yet he still mourned for an age when the Oceanid was crewed by men and women of courage and soul.

  Lucian watched the read-outs and dials as they reported the Oceanid’s main drives building to full power. The shields too were drawing as much power as their mighty generatoria could provide, the myriad of non-critical systems across the vessel powering down for the duration. Lucian hoped they would have the opportunity to power up again.

  He studied the nature and deployment of Luneberg’s vessels. Although still some distance away, he judged that they were not large ships, most about
the size of an escort. Two, however, were of greater mass, Lucian estimating them equivalent to light cruiser scale. Ordinarily, the Oceanid, being equivalent to a heavy cruiser would have little trouble seeing them off, but in her current condition, and with the aliens in the fight too, he was not quite so confident. Nevertheless, he had set himself on this course of action, and he would see it through.

  Studying the positions of Luneberg’s ships, Lucian saw that they must be under the Imperial Commander’s personal command, for they were deployed in such a way as to follow behind the lead cruiser, providing a dense escort, yet ill-prepared to provide one another with any effective fire support. He grinned, seeing in Luneberg’s deployment a means of gaining some, much needed, advantage.

  “Helm, set your intersect at plus nine, seventeen to port.”

  Helmsman Raldi hesitated as he calculated the course, and then replied, “Right through the middle of them, sir?”

  Lucian saw the hint of a grin touch Raldi’s lips as he turned to confirm the order, replying, “Aye helm, right through the middle. We’ll scatter them to the solar winds.”

  Lucian leant back in his command throne, gripping the arms as he felt the Oceanid’s drives reach the peak of their potential output. A glance at the data-screens around the throne and suspended from the ceiling above him told Lucian that his ship would pass through Luneberg’s fleet at exactly the point he intended. Furthermore, the manoeuvre would carry them through to link up with the Rosetta, all going well.

  Lucian counted down the distance between the Oceanid and Luneberg’s fleet, his gaze fixed on the point in space less than half a kilometre to port of the vessel that he judged to be Luneberg’s flagship. Trim point two five to port, Mister Raldi,” he ordered, reducing the distance at which the two ships would pass to an absurd two hundred and fifty metres. Closer even than old Jeliko strafing the traitor grand cruiser at the Battle of Van Goethe’s Rapidity, he guessed, although his ancestor did end his career by ramming an ork ship, so maybe he wouldn’t beat his record quite yet.

  After a minute, he noted how the vessels of Luneberg’s fleet reacted to his bearing straight at them. At first, the smaller escorts began to move away, but then returned to their previous headings. If only we could listen in on Luneberg’s command channel, Lucian thought. No doubt, the Imperial Commander was turning the ether blue with his orders to his escorts to protect his flagship from the Oceanid’s mad course.

  The range reduced still further, and in no time at all the Oceanid was bearing in on Luneberg’s fleet. The enemy vessels fully within visual range, Lucian saw that the smaller vessels were, as he had estimated, escorts. They were of a class he had only rarely seen, being more common amongst system and subsector reserve fleets of the southern reaches. They were old by any accounting, and ill-suited to even the smallest of fleet actions. They were better suited to convoy duties, where they would art as a reasonable deterrent to opportunistic raiders, who would be unlikely to risk even a single salvo from their prow torpedoes.

  Speaking of torpedoes, Lucian knew that only the Rosetta carried such a weapon, the arsenals of the other two rogue trader vessels having years ago exhausted the last of their stocks and their replacement unlikely in the current situation. A single torpedo might cost as much as a light cruiser, and so Lucian had placed his son under the strictest instructions only to fire their last one under his direct orders. It had become something of an irony that the most valuable heirloom his son possessed was a weapon he dared not use.

  Another minute passed, and Lucian saw that the escorts were turning from the Oceanid’s path once again, their captains evidently developing some sense of self-preservation, or perhaps serious but temporary communications problems. As he had hoped it would, the Chasmatan fleet scattered, almost in slow motion, before him, each escort choosing its own heading. Lucian leant forwards in his command throne as he studied the enemy movements, judging each captain’s skill from the manner in which he handled his ship. Two of the escorts came perilously close to one another as they veered desperately to starboard, causing Lucian to bark out a harsh laugh as he judged the enemy captains’ skill only slightly higher than those of a drunken ork.

  At the last, the Oceanid closed in on the lead cruiser, gliding past it so close that the discharge of its manoeuvring thrusters sprayed across her bow as the other vessel sought to steer out of her path. The sight of Luneberg’s flagship filled the portside viewers. She was so close that Lucian could read the vessel’s name painted in fifty foot tall letters along her prow. The Borealis Defensor, Lucian read, judging the title typical of the ego of its master.

  As the Oceanid completed her manoeuvre, Luneberg’s fleet was scattered, its constituent vessels spread over an area of space up to twenty kilometres across, and each on an entirely different heading. It would take even a skilled admiral some time to consolidate his force, thought Lucian, and he was damn sure that Luneberg was anything other than that.

  He watched on the flickering holograph as the Chasmatan fleet attempted, in vain, to knot itself into something resembling order. If only he had been travelling at a speed at which he could have unleashed a broadside. As much as he would have savoured the opportunity to damage Luneberg’s flagship, that had not been the objective of his manoeuvre. Instead, he had hoped only to buy time for his son.

  The enemy fleet did not redeploy in the manner he had expected it to. He had been certain it would be forced to spend some considerable time bringing its vessels around and regaining its previous formation, before powering after him towards the Rosetta, but that was not what they appeared to be doing.

  Lucian watched intently as the escorts closed in once more on the two cruisers. Although ragged and ungraceful, the fleet soon regained some semblance of order, continuing on its previous course.

  Lucian reached forwards and turned a dial on the plinth of the holograph, the static-filled, grainy projection above it blurring, before regaining focus, having zoomed out several dozen kilometres.

  Lucian saw immediately the course on which the Chasmatan fleet was engaged. Luneberg was taking his ships against the alien vessels, which had formed up on one another and were likewise homing in on the other ships.

  He could scarcely believe his luck. His enemies were going to pummel each other to the warp while he made good his escape!

  The two fleets closed on one another with stately elegance, and Lucian felt tempted to pour himself a drink as Luneberg’s force manoeuvred for what the Imperial Commander obviously intended to be a fearsome exchange of fire. Would the aliens really allow themselves to be drawn into such a position for a third time? Amazingly, it appeared to Lucian that the xenos vessels were indeed heading for another pasting, although he noted that this time they clustered together for mutual defence. He ran the coming action through his mind, estimating that the two cruisers of Luneberg’s fleet would have the better of a broadside, if they could pull one off, although they would pay a high price as the aliens converged their fire in retaliation.

  That, however, would have to wait, Lucian realised, as the servitor at the communications station had evidently been successful in opening a channel to Korvane.

  “ ahead Oceanid,” Korvane’s voice sounded amidst a riot of static laden interference. “This is Korvane.”

  “Korvane?” replied Lucian, filled with a sudden relief at the sound of his son’s voice. “Korvane, what’s your situation?”

  “Father.” Korvane’s voice came back, made distorted and tinny by interference on the channel. “I am inbound to the Rosetta, e.t.a. ten minutes.”

  “Good to hear Korvane,” replied Lucian, realising that his delaying attack against the aliens had indeed bought his son the time to make a dash for the Rosetta aboard his shuttle. “I take it you evaded the invasion forces?”

  “Invasion forces?” Korvane’s reply came back. “Father, I don’t think you—”

  “That’ll have to wait, Korvane,” cut in Lucian. “For now we need to concentrate on not ge
tting involved, in finding Brielle and getting clear of this—”

  “No, Father,” cut in Korvane, Lucian realising instantly that something must be severely amiss for his son to speak in such a manner. “We are involved.”

  Despite the howling feedback and static flooding the communications channel, Lucian picked up on his son’s tone instantly, and he didn’t like it one bit. “Explain,” he said.

  There was a moment’s delay as only angry static answered Lucian, and then Korvane’s voice came back. “We are involved. The Rosetta arrived unexpectedly early at Arris Epsilon, Father, and in your absence I made contact with Imperial Commander Zachary Droon.”

  “And?”

  “And, I told him of Luneberg’s treacherous actions at the talks, and Droon told me of the ongoing conflict between the two worlds.”

  “It’s just a bush war, Korvane, nothing we need get involved with.”

  “Yes, Father, but he asked me for help, and he offered to pay quite a considerable—”

  “You’ve signed us over to some border princeling?” Lucian felt his gorge rise, and fought to keep his temper in check despite the fact that he was quite sure he knew what his son’s answer would be.

  “I have pledged Droon our aid in ending the war against Luneberg.”

  Lucian stood, anger flaring within him. “You may not have noticed, Korvane, but it appears that Luneberg has the same idea.” Why the hell couldn’t Korvane have kept out of it? he thought, trying, despite himself, not to condemn his son for his actions.

  “Aye, Father, so I see, but I have negotiated a highly favourable deal, one that will recoup the losses incurred thus far. With the aid of the tau we will—”

  “The aliens, I take it?” Lucian interrupted his son.

  “Yes, the aliens. I had no choice, but the deal may recoup our losses.”

  Lucian knew Korvane referred to the collapsed deal with Luneberg, as if that was the fault of anyone other than the mad Imperial Commander. He sighed, knowing that his son was, if nothing else, an expert in such matters, and would have the deal sewn up so tight that he would have little choice other than to honour it. Well, he thought, looking to the holograph where he saw the two fleets about to clash, looks like we’re sticking around for the fight.