More intense fire. Dromon reeled and fired back.
She and Jan almost got rocked off their feet again.
A security team intercepted them at the launching bays.
Their fighters had already dropped with their backup pilots.
“The fleet captain wants you two at your secondary defense stations, not out in the mix.”
Jan started to protest.
“Orders are orders. Get to your stations.”
They ran to their remote gunnery stations, small secured cubicles with a chair and a console, operating triple pulse turrets on the hardpoints above them.
Naero brought up her autotargeting displays, weapons already powered up and humming.
The secondary battery gunnery stations operated independently and were well-protected. They were also fully automated, but they still functioned more effectively with a human interface.
Coordinated targeting profiles came online as she watched.
Jan operated a torp turret nearby.
Directly ahead of the fleet. Twelve elite Matayan destroyers, each with a dozen escort fighters.
Half of their number pursued and attacked a convoy of two dozen independent mining freighters.
Aunt Sleak’s fleet scrambled, launched, and deployed a total of threescore fighters in a standard Alpha-Charlie-1 defensive screen.
They were outnumbered two to one.
“All batteries make ready. Incoming torps,” the bridge com sounded.
Countermeasures took out half of the blips heading their way.
Spacer fighters and the forward defensive batteries blasted the rest.
“That attack’s a diversion,” Naero muttered.
Shinai’s fire control and com computers fixed on and monitored all channels–including those between the hapless freighters and the corsairs.
“Mayday, mayday, we are under intense corsair attack. All ships. Assistance, assistance. Heavy damage and casualties.”
“What do you want?” another panic-stricken voice cried out. “We’ll surrender. You can board us. We have no goods and few supplies. Please, stop firing. Our ships are full of workers–full of people. You’re killing civilians. We’re on fire!”
Scanners displayed an awful, one-sided battle among the transports.
Most of the old bulk freighters didn’t even have weapons.
Each of the heavily armed Matayan destroyers was more than a match for them or most of the ships in Aunt Sleak’s fleet.
Except for the 6m quad spinal guns of The Dromon.
One crippled freighter broke apart and exploded under concentrated fire from three destroyers. It didn’t have any shields, and only minimal armor. Its two turrets either didn’t work or had been taken out already.
Static and Matayan battle language rang out in triumph.
Dromon’s four primary guns cut loose, lighting up the entire sector. Its blue-white blasts ripped into the lead corsair flagship and its wingships, disrupting their shields.
The starboard wingship took two hits and listed to one side. Its aft section exploded.
“This is Captain Sleak Maeris of Clan Maeris. Enemy vessels, be advised: Cease hostilities and vacate this system or be destroyed.”
Matayan curses and laughter her only reply.
“Clan Maeris,” one of the freighter captains cut in. “This is Captain Philsen of The Botaru. Help us! Our situation is desperate. The corsairs are trying to destroy us. We don’t know why.”
“Acknowledged. We’re coming in. Disperse if you can. You’re still too bunched up. Scatter and concentrate on defensive actions. Jump if you’re able. We’ll try to draw them off. We’re boosting your distress call.”
Three more corsairs turned on the fleet, with all twelve dozen fighters full front on intercept.
The other trio of Matayan attackers kept after the freighters.
Naero heard the pleading and the screams on the open channel, just before another freighter got blasted to oblivion.
Naero realized she had tears on her face.
Was that how her parents went? Blasted to death by Matayan guns?
The rage she felt nearly overwhelmed her reason.
She checked her systems, gripped the controls of her gunnery station, and forced her emotions to go cold.
Against superior numbers, Naero and her Clan Fleet closed for battle.
(Amazon Link to Naero’s Run: http://amzn.to/1eRKCOb)
Want to find out what happened during the Annexation War? Please enjoy the following teaser from a spinoff series that we call:
Naero’s War:
The Annexation War
The Citation Series, Book 1
Naero’s War:
The Annexation War
Annexation War Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1gmxGQk
by Mason Elliott
Naero’s flagship, The Hippolyta, was one of the latest, Dromon Class dreadnaughts. These warships were fashioned out of dense, iron-nickel planetoids, not less than half a kilometer in diameter. Incredibly tough and rugged on their own.
It took the most powerful mining plasma-borers–working in precise conjunction with construction fixers and an army of teks–months to hollow out armored crew quarters, lift and transport tubes, launching and loading bays. Next came space for power cores, sublight engines, jump drives, backups, gravitics, life support, sensor arrays, communications, navigation, weapons, main bridge and backup bridge.
Set in the exact heart of The Hippolyta were its signature big guns. A quad of the largest production guns ever constructed on any ship of war: Four, 16 meter, rapid-fire, particle beam cannons.
Cannons any larger than that exploded, melted, or otherwise were not feasible within the limits of current tek and materials. Thirty-six secondary batteries, assorted specialized weapons and gun emplacements, and forty-five advanced fighters.
Seven hundred and forty able crew, including a full Rifle Company of two hundred and forty Spacer Marines, and all of their equipment, vehicles, and gear for ship’s security and rapid response deployment. Strike Fleet Six’s Marines came from the 3rd Spacer Marine Division–known as The Death Eyes–because of their superb snipers and their overall, excellent marksmanship ratings. Marines made up a third of the warship’s complement.
Their motto: If We Can See It…We Can Kill It!
The main bridge was a massive armored dome constructed on top of the dreadnaught’s big metal, rough-hewn orb, protected by heavy blast doors, and the latest, most advanced shielding in the fleet. Within, the circular bridge was laid out in four levels under the huge dome, a dome sixty meters high.
Each bridge tier was separated by the height of a few steps from one to the next. The inner three levels could rotate in any direction, independent of the others.
The fleet captain’s command nanochair and station occupied the highest tier. Each bridge station had its own secondary shielding, in case enemy fire penetrated the shields, the blast screens, and the hull.
In combat, bridges were routinely targeted, for obvious reasons.
From that primary vantage point, the strike fleet captain could direct battles in three hundred and sixty degrees, through an advanced, battleholo display surrounding her, full zoom data-feeds, constantly updated by battle AIs. Naero could manipulate the displays by nanosensors programmed into the fingertips of her nanosuit gloves.
The battle display system also recognized her voice pattern, and would respond to voice commands, or commands punched in manually through pads on her command chair, or via other backups.
The next bridge level down from hers held the secondary bridge stations: Helm, Weapons, Communications, Navigation, and Scanning, spaced out equally along their ring.
The third ring held all of the twelve tertiary bridge stations, that monitored, controlled, and coordinated all of the ship’s other important functions:
Engineering
Gravitics
Life Support
Power Supply
Security
Shields
Medical
Jump and Sub-light Drives
Damage Control
Alliance Fleet and Intel Communications
Main Computer
Launching Bays
The fourth ring went to the two powerlifts, leading from the bridge to the other movers, decks, and levels of the ship. All lift and access points throughout the ship were constantly guarded by two battle-ready Marines, stationed on either side.
If a warship was boarded by enemy assault craft during a battle, invaders could be cut off and eliminated between decks, before they could reach a vital area.
Today, Strike Fleet Six had a mission–a simple one.
Captain Naero Maeris and her fifty warships proceeded to probe the next system on the outer, port arcwall of the Alliance advance at Beleron-4.
A routine run. Current intel assured them to expect little or no Triaxian presence or resistance.
By any stretch of the imagination, Beleron-4 was a nothing world, in the middle of nowhere, with zero, nacha–absolutely no strategic or tactical value whatsoever.
Checking it off the list on the pacified worlds of the Alliance system-hopping schedule was more-or-less just a formality.
But it still had to be done. And Naero and her lot drew the duty at random.
So why did Naero’s sense of warning go bonkers?
After they jumped in, simple three-stack, Delta-India-3 formation, the reasons for alarm grew perfectly clear.
They came in right on top of twenty Triaxian fleets of the enemy’s latest warships.
And a gigantic new flagship–as huge as The Hippolyta–the advanced design of which did not even register as existing.
It had never been seen before.
Naero shot to her feet, kicked her command nanochair back out the way and sent it down into the nanofloor of her top-tier bridge control station.
She instantly called her battle display holos up in spinning, horizontal glowing ribbons and rings all around her.
Data relays went wild. Her fingers flashed among the highlighted screen arcs, taking control of them and their parameters.
Multiple warnings sounded, and with excellent reason.
Nothing about this was good in any way.
Haisha! Twenty enemy fleets could chop them into confetti–well before any other Alliance forces could even jump in to help.
No strategy, no formation could possibly save them against superior numbers such as these.
“All ships, full withdraw. Emergency retreat on this vector, in Charlie-Romeo-7, cone-ring formation. Shields and all weapons full front and hot. Maximize all targeting profiles on the lead attacking enemy elements–they’ll be on us in seconds. Whatever happens–we fight until our carriers and some of our ships can break free and jump out behind us. Get the carriers out first!”
For a split second, everyone braced for the sheets of flame that would quickly overtake and overwhelm them.
(Annexation War Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1gmxGQk)
Please enjoy the following teaser…an excerpt, from the next Spacer Clans Adventure, Book 2: Naero’s Gambit
Naero’s
Gambit
(Naero’s Gambit Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1lx5Tyy)
by Mason Elliott
Klyne set the huge Mystic testing room on board The Kathmandu to muted gray. Smartwalls, floor, and ceiling, Naero saw no equipment, no padding.
The lights were set low.
From experience, Naero knew that in a training room, just about anything could pop up out of anywhere.
She wore nothing but her black Nytex flight togs.
To her surprise, Klyne and his two adepts wore dark gray Nytex togs also, but with hoods and masks pulled up over their heads. Only their keen eyes showed.
All three of the Mystics appeared to be in top physical condition, including Klyne.
One of the adepts was female, with huge green eyes and light freckles across her nose. The other was male, with the black slanted eyes of the Lii-Kim Clans.
If black was the color of Spacers, the Mystics traditionally wore gray.
They all sat with their legs crossed in lotus fashion, focusing their abilities through meditation, and mental discipline. They formed a triangle, each side about three meters apart, with them at the points.
“Follow our instructions,” Klyne said. “Take your place among us. Sit in the center; sit as we do. Face the instructor.”
A circle of white light appeared at the center of the triangle. Naero walked over and sat down in it, facing Klyne. Her skin barely began to tingle.
A wider ring of similar light appeared, including the instructor and his two adepts.
Every hair on Naero’s body went stiff with electric force.
“You have chosen to come before the circle of Spacer Mystics to be tested for Mystic training. Speak your name.”
“Naero Amashin Maeris.”
“You agree to be tested?”
“I do.”
“I am Klyne, the instructor. My assistants are Adept Iselle, and Adept Makita. We shall refer to you as Adept Candidate Naero. Follow our instructions. Respond only if asked to respond. If you require any medical attention, it will be administered at the end of the testing. Until then, you are expected to endure and continue to do your best. If you understand, say yes.”
“Yes.”
“The training will begin. Defend yourself.”
Without warning, Makita’s attack smashed into her.
She blocked one or two out every four or five blows.
A snapwheel kick sent her flying twenty meters, nearly winding her.
The only things that saved her at all, once again, were the experience and knowledge she gained from her training sessions with Baeven.
Makita proved stronger and faster than her, but he still paled in comparison to the outcast’s terrifying prowess.
Makita charged her.
Naero met him part way.
She took several punishing strikes, but flipped him hard to the ground.
He swept her legs.
They tangled on the ground, wrestling, slipping out of holds, twisting like snakes. They pummeled each other all the while.
They broke, crouched low, and launched themselves at each other again, like Thellurian fighting blue cranes.
Naero landed a whipkick on the side of Makita’s head.
He clipped her under the chin, grabbed her leg and ankle and swung her hard into the floor, stunning her.
She struggled to get up.
For a few dizzy moments, she couldn’t.
She rose up and staggered back into her fighting stance.
She half-smiled.
“Come on.”
Makita bowed his head, just slightly, and drew back.
“Defend yourself, “Klyne said again.
Naero whirled to face Iselle.
Too late.
An invisible force slammed into her arms and torso, flinging her back.
She rolled with the strike and came back up into her stance.
Iselle fought her from a distance, punching and striking with her hands in rapid combinations.
Naero struggled to advance, to close the distance between them, while heavy, unseen blows rained down on her from every direction, knocking her one way, and then the other.
“Telekinetic combat,” Klyne called out. “Try to sense and block the blows. You cannot see them. Reach out with your battle senses, with your mind. Feel them coming. Counter and deflect them. True masters can fight thus, without even moving, simply by concentrating.”
At least Iselle still had to physically move in order to project her attacks. That was some help.
Closer. Get closer.
Iselle thrust both hands forward violently.
A wall of force drove Naero slowly back. She pushed against it, slowing it even more.
“Resist. Focus on the energy before you,” Klyne told her, “before it smashes you into the
far wall. Fight back. Defeat it.”
She rolled to one side and then the other. The barrier felt solid.
Naero leaped up four meters, felt the top, and flipped herself over it.
Iselle withdrew a step, cupping both hands loosely on the sides of her face.
Spinning orbs of pure telekinetic force shot out, rapid-fire.
Naero barely perceived them where they warped through the air; they made explosive popping sounds.
She tried to dodge them. One whirred past her head like an invisible ball at high speed.
The next clipped her left shoulder, spinning her aside.
Another knocked one leg out from under her.
She kept her feet and ducked, weaving to either side in turns.
Iselle directed her attack at Naero’s feet.
Naero lost her footing, slipping and sliding on what felt like a bunch of invisible ball bearings cast beneath her.
She tried to roll back to her feet, but panes of force battered her from all sides, keeping her off balance.
It felt like being a rubber ball, bouncing around in a box that someone shook.
The sides of the box rapidly closed in.
They tightened all around her, threatening to crush her.
She couldn’t breathe.
Iselle released her without warning.
Naero sprawled, gasping, face down on the floor.
“I’m somewhat surprised,” Klyne noted. “Preliminary tests demonstrate no psyonic aptitude or innate talent to my trained senses whatsoever. That in itself is very rare. After your battle with the former Danner entity, we simply assumed that you would exhibit some kind of psyonic ability.”
“I burned myself out dealing with the entity. I burned both of us out. I’m a nud once more.” She admitted it openly. “None of my former abilities have returned.”
So she wasn’t psyonic anymore. Not even a teknomancer. Disappointing, but not the end of the universe.
“Yet I sense something incredibly strange within you,” Klyne said. “What could it be?”
Naero's War: The Citation Series 2: The High Crusade Page 34