Midas swore as he watched one of his ships blow up, then swore again as his own ship shuddered and warning klaxons sounded.
“We were hit with a particle beam,” shouted the Tactical Officer. “Minor damage to hull systems. Electromag field down over…”
The ship shuddered again, this time a much deeper shake that told of a pounding on the armored hull.
“Antimatter in that one,” yelled the Tactical Officer.
“Major damage to decks one through ten,” called out the officer sitting at damage control.
A woman’s voice came out of the com with a chilling warbling yell, and beam weapons continued to fly both ways as the ship closed. Beams weapons which never missed from one side, and always did from the other.
And then the enemy vessel was again past, lasers and particle beams striking from her stern as she moved at random vectors while fleeing the ships of the Nation.
“She’s gone again,” called out the Tactical Officer.
“I can see that, you idiot,” said Midas under his breath. “But where the Hells has she gone?”
“It has to be a wormhole,” said the Navigation Officer. “It’s from the Donut, as far as we know. And that thing is used to generate wormholes.”
“You must be correct,” said the Commodore, a tight smile on his face. “Did you get a fix on their point of appearance?”
“I have a tentative plot,” said the Nav Officer, nodding. “I can probably tighten it up if she comes through again.”
“Do that,” said the Commodore, pointing at the screen. “No matter what, get a fix on that point. And you,” he said, pointing to the Com Tech. “Get ready to send that fix to all ships. Maybe we can accomplish something.”
“Aye, sir,” said the tech.
“Here she comes again,” yelled the Tactical Officer. The red vector arrow appeared again, heading toward the force at high velocity. Missile arrows appeared again, separating from the ship.
How many of those damned things can that ship carry, thought the Commodore, watching as the arrows continued to separate and single out their targets. The plot erupted with static again, the red vector arrows jumping all over the place. We’ll never get her once she gets away from that hole and starts for us.
The Commodore sweated in his couch, watching the missiles come in. Two more were knocked out this time as well, but the other two went after separate targets, and two more battleships were blotted from the heavens. And then the ship was past and heading for its exit hole.
“What’s the Suryan force doing?” he asked, in a moment of panic forgetting that they were even engaged with another enemy.
“They’re concentrating on the Admiral’s task force,” said the Tactical Officer.
Thank the God for small favors, thought the Commodore as he looked over his mauled force. He had lost four ships, and two of those left were heavily damaged. But not enough to keep them from firing.
“I have the hole plotted,” said the Nav Officer.
“Coordinates sent,” called out the Com Tech.
“All ships to fire all weapons on that point,” said the Commodore. “Maximum power, continuous.”
“We won’t be able to keep that up too long,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at the Commodore.
“Fire as long as possible,” said the Commodore. “Until the barrels melt, or we’re out of power.”
* * *
“I think you’ve done enough,” said Watcher over the circuit.
Pandora felt the big smile on her face and shook her head. “I’m having too much fun, lover,” she said, watching the approach to the wormhole mouth.
“I could shut down your fun by closing the hole,” threatened Watcher, but she could tell by his tone that it wasn’t going to happen. She had always been good at judging men, and using that judgment to manipulate them into doing what she wanted. It was no different with the superman she had come to know so well.
“Close it down and I’ll just circle back in normal space,” she said with a smirk on her face. “It may take a little bit longer, but I’ll still get er done.”
“You are insufferable,” said the being on the other end of the com link. “They are going to figure out what you are doing and blow you out of space. That is not a warship you are in. And you are even out of missiles.”
“I figure a couple of strafing runs with light amp and particle beams can whittle them down a bit more.”
“And you don’t even have your armor on,” said Watcher, his voice rising in exasperation. “No wonder you didn’t want a visual.”
“I’m fighting a bunch of old Greek galleys in a fighter jet,” she said with a laugh. “What the hell do I have to worry about?”
“They are a little bit more advanced than a galley,” said Watcher, his voice still at exasperation level. “Their weapons can still hurt you. Enough of them can destroy you.”
“They have to hit me first,” said Pandi, watching as the ripple in space that was the wormhole appeared to her front. “Tell you what. I’ll just go in one more little time, then high tail it out of here.”
Communications blacked out for a moment as she entered the wormhole, then came back as she exited the other end of the portal, lined up and ready for another attack run.
“We are taking fire,” called out the ship’s computer as a klaxon sounded. The ship shook and bucked.
“What’s going on?” yelled the voice of Watcher, and then the com was gone. Not interrupted, just gone, cut off.
“We have hull breaches,” called out the computer. “Lasers and particle beams impacting the hull.”
“Shit,” cursed Pandora, looking over the control board, which kept fluctuating between active and down. “Get us the hell out here. Maximum velocity, maximum evasive.”
“Engines two and three are down,” said the computer voice. “More hull breaches.”
The ship continued to shake, and Pandora could now hear the sound of air whistling through, something. And suddenly there was no air to breath, and she felt a moment of regret that she hadn’t put on that armor after all.
Chapter Six
I had rather have a plain, russet-coated Captain, that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a Gentle-man and is nothing else. Oliver Cromwell
“We’ve got her,” cried Midas, raising his fist in the air. On the viewer was a telescopic shot of the enemy vessel. He was surprised at how small it was, to have done so much damage to his force. Now it looked pretty damned helpless, with laser light reflecting from its skin and alloy boiling off into space. A couple of particle beams struck as well, cutting runnels through the hull metal.
And then she blurred away, using her impossible engines to pull six hundred gravities on an evasive course that his weapons could not follow at distance.
“We hit her hard,” yelled out the Tactical Officer.
“Not hard enough,” growled Midas, watching as the other ship juked away. At five light seconds difference there was no way they could tell where the ship was at this moment, and so could only fire a wide spread and hope for a hit. There were some hits, some reflected light and vapor boiling into space. But not enough to totally destroy the vessel.
“Midas,” came a voice over the com, and the Commodore turned to the repeater screen to see the Admiral, sitting on his bridge. “Break action with that Donut vessel. We need your firepower to swing the action against the Suryan force.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the Commodore, knowing it would be six seconds before the admiral received his reply, turning back to the tactical screen which had switched view to the main fleet action.
There were nine Nation ships dueling with twelve Suryan ships. Even bringing in his five functional vessels would not be enough to ensure victory. Not with the Suryan station adding its fire to the mix. Unless he did something rash.
“Order all ships to engage Alcubierre drive,” he said to the Captain and the Com Tech. “Course directly toward
the enemy force and their station.”
“Toward the station?” asked the Captain, his eyes wide.
“Yes,” said Midas, nodding his head. “Engage on my command.” Midas waited for the acknowledgements to come in from the other vessels, time in which he watched one of Gerasi’s ships taken out by missiles. “Engage.”
Space blurred ahead before turning black, while it darkened behind, the ship warping space. The engines were only engaged for a second. Anything more would have risked plowing into the planet. There was still risk, and Midas breathed out a deep breath as the drive shut off and the ship sat above the planet.
All five of his ships were still intact, none having come close enough to the planetary body to wipe themselves from existence. The same could not be said for the enemy force.
The station was now a mass of drifting debris, caught on the edge of a drive field and totally destroyed. Eight of the battleships were also gone, blotted out of existence when their space was destroyed. Midas knew that there were new debris fields of elementary particles somewhere behind his ships. Conservation of matter and energy dictated that nothing could truly be destroyed, with the exception of negative/positive matter interaction, which was a special case. So new particles were spawned from the quantum foam, and small areas of space would be cauldrons of radioactivity for hours, until the quarks and leptons and other bits spread through the region.
His three damaged ships, still coming on through normal space, were firing at the enemy ships, as were the eight remaining ships of Gerasi’s group, shifting their fire onto the survivors, while missiles in flight took note of their original targets disappearing and re-acquired new targets.
“All ships,” ordered the Commodore over the com. “Find a target and open fire.”
The enemy ships were in shock, and committed a major error in trying to spread their fire over the entire Nation force, instead of concentrating and taking them out in detail. First one enemy battleship died, secondary explosions erupting through the hull while escape pods and shuttles headed toward the planet. Some were shot down, while most made it into the atmosphere and to temporary safety. Then a second battleship took multiple missile hits and exploded in space. The remaining two tried to make it around the curve of the planet, gaining distance and cover. Midas put his five ships in pursuit while Gerasi’s force came on.
* * *
“That little ship is hammering the hell out of them,” said the Tactical Officer as they watched the vector arrow move onto the enemy force, then move on for about a minute and disappear. Instantly it was back on another attack run.
“They must be using a wormhole,” said Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, nodding at the screen. “And that means the Donut.”
“So our allies are helping us out,” said Lt. Commander Klish, looking up from his control panel and smiling.
But how much of allies are they? thought the Admiral, watching as the small ship began another run, and another one of the enemy battleships exploded from a missile hit. And how much are we just allies of convenience.
Of course, Watcher and his consort had played it very fair with the Kingdom, equipping them with exactly the same technology and data that the Nation of Humanity had stolen from the station. No more, no less, maintaining the status quo. Not truly allies, as the pair had offered no military support to the Kingdom. And they had refused to allow the Kingdom to set foot on the enormous station. But if they hadn’t given the Kingdom the catch up tech, the Nation would have rolled over Surya. If not today, then surely tomorrow.
“What are the other ships doing?” he asked, turning in his couch toward the Tactical Officer.
“Maintaining course,” called out that officer. “Maintaining fire on us.”
“Continue to fire on those ships,” said the Admiral, looking over at the Com Tech, feeling the Danaus shake underneath as she fired particle beams and missiles, and was hit by return beams. “Order the station to do so as well. We’ll let our little friend out there take care of the other force, for now. They seem to be able to handle those ships.”
“Aye, sir,” yelled the com, sending out the messages.
The forward viewer lit up again with a flash like lightning. “She’s taken out another battleship,” called Tactical. “At this rate we’ll be able to stop firing and just watch.”
“Don’t get too cocky,” warned the Admiral, wagging a finger from side to side. “And keep a close watch on those other ships. The last thing we want is to give in to arrogance.”
“Shit,” yelled out one of the sensor techs, the one detailed to keep track of the ship that was attacking the Nation force to front. “They hit her.”
“How?” asked the Admiral, coming out of his couch and walking over to the tech. The screen above the station was showing the small ship, lit up with laser and particle beam strikes. Vapor was boiling off the hull, and pieces were flying off from particle beam hits. And then the ship sped away, the cameras following it as far as possible before a violent maneuver caused the video to lose lock.
“Keep a close watch on those ships,” ordered the Admiral, pointing to the screen that showed the reduced enemy force. There were still six ships, though he was sure some of them were damaged, but to what extent he couldn’t tell.
“Yes, sir,” said the tech, while the Admiral turned to look at the main viewer, which showed the other nine vessels still firing at his.
A cheer erupted as one of those ships went up in a bright flash that brightened and expanded again until there was nothing left but hot plasma. The Admiral was about to say something when Danaus shook and trembled, and the officer had to steady himself to keep from falling. He looked over at a nearby screen in time to see the space station come apart like it was made of sand and a giant had kicked it. About twenty percent of the station just disappeared, while the rest broke into pieces, none more than a ton. The Admiral knew there were no survivors from that strike. Commodore Sundraka. All of her crew.
“They’re gone,” called out a voice behind the Admiral, and he turned to look at the main viewer, and the other three of his ships that were still in space over the planet. The rest were either completely gone or in pieces.
“What the Hells happened,” he croaked, noting the enemy ships that were now in close proximity to his own.
“They warped out in their drive and came in among us,” yelled out the Navigator, who was staring into a screen. “That damned drive took out the station and the other eight ships.”
“Tactical,” yelled the Admiral, a sinking feeling in his stomach, knowing the enemy ships were not in a state of shock. “Open fire on the nearest ship.”
But the enemy beat his ships to it, and Danaus shuddered again as particle beams craved into her hull, imparting their kinetic energy. A ship started venting gas and secondary explosions blew through the hull. Escape pods and shuttles launched, the crew that still could getting off the ship while they could. Some were shot down before the angry eyes of the bridge crew, some drifted after taking disabling shots, but most made it into the atmosphere. Then a second of the remaining ships blew up in a catastrophic detonation, then blew out again as antimatter touched matter. There would be no survivors from that one.
“Get us the hell out of here,” yelled the Admiral, knowing that they couldn’t get away in space. The Alcubierre drive vessels would catch them before they could accelerate up to enough speed to escape, and would then wipe them from the Universe. “Take us around the planet. Tell Aneus to follow. Everyone prepare to abandon ship as soon as we get clear of the enemy. To the planet.” And hopefully to the base, where maybe we can gather enough strength to take to the jungle and fight back if they come down. At least for a little while.
Danaus accelerated away from the fight, going low and using the curve of the planet. Alcuberrie drive could not follow around the planet without swinging wide out, and they risked a catastrophic collision with the large body if they tried to engage their drive close in. And the Suryan ships c
ould accelerate much faster in normal space. They still took ten minutes of close in fire, and some close missile explosions, but they made it around the planet, and kept increasing the distance while the crew got to escape pods and shuttles.
All the Nation ships found when they finally caught up were two battleships scuttling in space, blowing to pieces that fell into the atmosphere and burned up. And a swarm of small ships plunging into that atmosphere, headed to a landing on the planet below.
Chapter Seven
If the leader is filled with high ambition and if he pursues his aims with audacity and strength of will, he will reach them in spite of all obstacles. Karl Von Clausewitz
Pandora had worked as a spacer for over a decade before she jumped through the wormhole to the future that was now. She had done construction work, crewed a freighter, and finally worked as a comet prospector in the Kuiper Belt. So as soon as the pressure started to drop she knew what to do, the most unintuitive act a human can do while there is no air in the room. Breath out. She opened her mouth and let the vacuum suck the air through her throat. Her lungs and her throat ached from the friction of gas moving too fast. And then her lungs were empty.
Pandi knew that the nanobubbles in her blood stream would be supplying her with enough air, and the nanites would work hard to scrub the CO2 from her body. But she still needed to work fast if the membranes of her lungs weren’t to sustain major damage. That damage could be repaired in time, but she needed to function now.
The lights flickered again, and the deck of the ship vibrated under her feet. She thought it a particle beam, which gave more of a hammering vibration than a laser, which was more of a straight push. The ship rocked as it continued to evade, pushing slightly past the capabilities of the engine’s compensators. She grabbed for a hand hold on the wall and then to another, while emergency lights came up and stayed steady. She reached the section of wall she needed and pushed her thumb to the panel.
To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well) Page 6