Desperate Fire (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Tactical, take out one of the cloudscoops,” he ordered. Thunderchild was alone, the rest of the fleet preparing for the final confrontation, but no other ships should be needed. “Communications, repeat the message after the missile hits. And make it clear that we won’t be trying to board the structures.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  William gritted his teeth as the missile roared towards a target with no point defense, no shields.

  The missile struck home, obliterating the cloudscoop in a flash of nuclear fire. It didn’t look as though the occupants had evacuated either, although there was no way to be sure. The engineers might have fled during the confusion of the Commonwealth invasion and hidden themselves somewhere in the inky vastness of space, waiting to see who won.

  “Target destroyed,” Cecelia said.

  “Message sent,” Ball added. “There’s still no proof that they can even hear it.”

  Cecelia’s console bleeped. “Captain, we have a hint of turbulence on the starboard bow,” she said. “It may be a cloaked ship.”

  “Show me,” William ordered. Thankfully, Thunderchild’s shields were already raised, her weapons already charged. Their visitor, if it was a visitor, wouldn’t be scared off. “Do you have a track?”

  “Not as yet,” Cecelia said. A single icon appeared on the display, blinking rapidly. “I don’t have a solid lock either. The dispersal pattern is too great.”

  William leaned forward, feeling his heart beginning to race. No cloaking device ever built could hide everything, but spotting the turbulence—the tiny flickers of energy caused by the passage of a cloaked ship—was tricky, more of an art form than a science. A good cloaking device randomized everything, denying automated sensors the chance to pick up a repetitive pattern. But Cecelia had spotted something.

  It might be a false alarm, he reminded himself. But it’s far too close for comfort.

  “Hold us here,” he ordered. “Bring up an automated firing circuit, primed to fire the moment he launches his missiles.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  William nodded, never taking his eyes off the display. The contact was inching closer, trying to get into point-blank range. Detection would soon be inevitable, when the cloaked ship would have to fire or give up the advantage of surprise. William silently calculated the vectors in his head, trying to deduce when the enemy CO would open fire. They’d know their own systems, of course, but what did they know about his sensors? If they didn’t know, they’d be careful not to get too close.

  “She could be friendly,” Roach said.

  “I hope not,” William said. He’d heard horror stories about two cloaked ships accidentally firing on each other despite being on the same side. Uncanny had done it twice during her checkered career. “No one should be trying to sneak up on us in a war zone.”

  He glanced at Cecelia. “Can you identify the power dispersal pattern?”

  “Negative, sir,” Cecelia said. “I’d say she’s a cruiser, perhaps an assault cruiser, but without a solid lock it’s impossible to say for sure. She might be another bastard design.”

  “I hope not,” William said. They’d encountered a handful of bastardized ships during the war. All of them had provided nasty and unpredictable surprises. “Keep passive sensors locked on her.”

  “Aye, sir,” Cecelia said.

  William allowed himself a tight smile. If the cloaked ship had remained undetected until she got into firing range, she would have crippled or destroyed Thunderchild with her first barrage. But she had been detected, giving him the chance to do unto her as she’d planned to do unto him. And yet, he faced the same problem as his opponent. If he fired too soon, the enemy would have a chance to raise shields and fire back; if he held his fire too long, his enemy might get the first blow in anyway.

  Let her come just a little closer, he thought.

  “Mr. Ball,” William said, “has there been no reply at all?”

  “No, Captain,” Ball said. “There has been no response.”

  William considered it. The Theocrats were certainly ruthless enough to use the cloudscoops to bait a trap, knowing that Kat wouldn’t send superdreadnought squadrons to smash cloudscoops. But they’d left the ambush too late. He could take out the remaining cloudscoops before the cloaked ship could react and they had to know it.

  He took a breath. “Destroy the remaining cloudscoops,” he ordered. “And prepare to fire on our new friend.”

  Thunderchild shuddered as she flushed her forward tubes. William braced himself, expecting to see point defense weapons spring to life or an undetected cloaked ship materializing between their position and the cloudscoops but saw nothing. The missiles slammed home, the warheads wiping the cloudscoops out of existence. Ahura Mazda was going to go dark soon, William knew. They didn’t seem to have built up a fuel stockpile or contingency plans for alternate fuels. But then, the Theocrats really didn’t seem to care about their population.

  “Energy flux,” Cecelia snapped. “She’s powering up her weapons.”

  “Fire,” William ordered.

  The display changed rapidly as the enemy ship fired its missiles at almost the same instant, her missiles aimed right at his hull. Her CO had messed up the timing slightly, William noted; he’d been unable to resist the urge to get as close as possible. But he’d failed to save the cloudscoops. He’d have to blow Thunderchild out of space if he wanted to keep his command . . . and his life.

  “Point defense online,” Cecelia said. “Missiles inbound, twenty-two seconds to impact.”

  “Enemy ship reads out as a modified light cruiser,” Roach added. “They buckled additional missile pods to her hull.”

  That explains the odd power dispersal pattern, William thought. But that’s not going to do her hull any good.

  “Bring us about,” he ordered. “Missile tubes to rapid fire.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said. “Rapid fire . . . now!”

  Thunderchild shuddered as seven missiles made it through the cruiser’s point defense and slammed into her shields. Roach barked orders to the damage control teams as red icons started to flash up on the display; William allowed himself a moment of relief once he saw that none of the damage was serious, not when a trained and experienced crew could perform repairs under fire. The enemy ship, her shields not yet solidified, staggered under his blows, but kept coming, firing as she came. Her missile throw weight seemed to be equal to his.

  “Prepare to take evasive action,” William ordered as the two ships converged. “Do not give her a chance to ram us.”

  Gross swallowed. “Aye, sir.”

  William didn’t blame him for being concerned. It was difficult to ram another ship by accident, but the move could be done deliberately. Both starships would almost certainly be destroyed. His ship shuddered, again and again, as she took direct hits, but kept going, pounding away at the enemy vessel until her shields failed. A second later, she exploded into an expanding cloud of debris.

  “Target destroyed,” Cecelia reported. “No lifepods detected.”

  They didn’t have time to get to the lifepods, William thought. But even if they had, would they have tried to abandon ship?

  “Deploy sensor drones,” he ordered. “Helm, prepare to—”

  An alert sounded. “Two more ships detected,” Cecelia said. “They’re decloaking nearby.”

  William swore. The brief but intense battle had attracted more starships. Another light cruiser and a destroyer. Normally, he would have gambled on Thunderchild being able to take on another light cruiser, but his ship was in no state for a fight. And they were too close for him to hop into hyperspace before they entered firing range.

  “Alter course,” he ordered. There was nothing keeping them near the gas giant. “And send an emergency signal to Ahura Mazda.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Ball said. He hesitated. “Captain, it will take at least thirty-seven minutes for the signal to reach Commodore Falcone.”
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br />   We could do with a miniature StarCom now, William thought. There aren’t many ships close enough to help.

  “Send the signal anyway,” he ordered. “Helm, keep us heading away from them. Tactical, deploy two passive sensor drones along our course.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Gross said.

  Roach peered down at his console. “They’ll follow us into hyperspace if we try to open a gateway,” he said.

  “It looks that way,” William agreed. Thunderchild could probably outrace her foes unless a third starship was lying doggo along their current route. The enemy didn’t need precognition to guess what he’d do if he saw himself outgunned. “Tactical, stand by forward missiles.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said. Her console started to bleep an alarm. “Target Two and Target Three are locking weapons on our hull.”

  “Stand by point defense,” William said. Thunderchild had a higher rate of acceleration than the enemy cruiser, unless ONI had dropped the ball again, but it would take time for her to get out of engagement range. “Keep monitoring the drones.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  The display flickered, then updated again. “Targets Two and Three have opened fire.”

  “Return fire,” William ordered. “Drop mines, then deploy ECM drones.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  William forced himself to appear calm as the enemy missiles raced towards his ship. There were some advantages to being the target in a stern chase. If nothing else, the enemy missiles had to catch up with his ship while the enemy ships were racing towards his missiles. But the enemy had enough missile tubes to give his point defense units a run for their money. If he brought the ship about, they’d just smother him with missiles.

  “Enemy ships are launching a second barrage,” Cecelia reported.

  Roach laughed, humorlessly. “Their superiors are going to have a fit.”

  “Only if their first barrage kills us,” William commented. “Launch a second barrage, targeted to cripple their ships.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  William kept a wary eye on the display as the enemy missiles closed in on Thunderchild. A dozen fell to his point defense, a dozen more were lured away, expending themselves uselessly on the ECM drones, but five survived long enough to slam into his rear shields. Thunderchild bucked sharply, her hull screaming in pain. William clung to his command chair, praying desperately that they’d survive long enough to escape the enemy ships. The enemy couldn’t keep up such a bombardment, could they?

  “Major damage, rear section,” Roach reported. “Fusion Two is down; Fusion Three is showing signs of imminent collapse. Drive field intact, but Engineering reports that we’ve lost two nodes and three more are iffy.”

  “Enemy destroyer has taken heavy damage,” Cecelia put in. “She’s dropping out of the race.”

  “Redirect all missiles to the cruiser,” William snapped. Losing one fusion plant was a problem, losing two was a disaster. His ship wouldn’t be able to maintain her current speed if she lost power or more drive nodes. “And divert all nonessential power to shields.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  “Nonessential power being redirected now,” Roach said. “We’re down two shield generators.”

  And that means the others could burn out at any moment, William thought. And that would leave the hull bare.

  “Continue firing,” he ordered. “And ready—”

  “Captain,” Cecelia interrupted, “the probes are reporting turbulence directly ahead of us!”

  “Lock forward missiles on the center of the distortion and then fire,” William snapped. There was no time to waste. The enemy was trying to drive him into a trap, but he’d seen through it before the jaws had slammed closed. “Now!”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said. Her voice wavered. “She’s another cruiser—”

  “She’s a dead cruiser,” William said. The enemy ship was decloaking, but unless she had some technology he’d never heard of, she wouldn’t be able to get her shields up in time to save herself. The vessel’s point defense was badly unprepared, only taking out four of his missiles before the remainder slammed into her hull and obliterated her. “Good shooting.”

  Cecelia flushed. “Thank you, sir.”

  Thunderchild rocked again. “Direct hits, rear section,” Roach snapped. “Rear shields are down. Fusion Three is gone!”

  “Try to push as much power to the drives as you can,” William ordered, although he knew the maneuver was futile. The drive nodes needed more power than his ship could now supply. “Helm, bring us around. Keep our shields between us and them.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gross said.

  Another shockwave ran through the ship. William gritted his teeth. He’d lost one ship, now he was going to lose another. And there was no way he’d be given a third command. Hell, mere survival was unlikely. The Theocrats wouldn’t stop to pick up lifepods. They’d either use them for target practice or leave them to drift helplessly in space. But someone should be along soon enough to pick them up.

  A thought occurred to him. “Tactical, switch the drones to active,” he ordered. “Have them project images of two decloaking cruisers.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cecelia said.

  William gripped his command chair, thinking fast. The enemy ship was damaged too. If her CO thought that more enemy ships were closing in, what would he do? Flee? Or take the opportunity to blow Thunderchild out of space first? But he had to know that the Theocracy couldn’t afford to lose more ships. The Commonwealth could produce an entire squadron of light cruisers in the time it would take the Theocracy to produce one.

  Not any longer, William thought as he eyed the display. We’ve smashed their industry beyond repair.

  The enemy ship hung there for a long moment, then opened a gateway and slipped into hyperspace. William let out a long breath as he realized he and his crew were going to live. The enemy had fallen for his bluff. He felt an urge to laugh as he realized the retreat suggested a moment of rational thinking among a very irrational society.

  “They’re gone,” Cecelia said. “There’s no hint of any other cloaked ships in the vicinity.”

  “They might be calling for reinforcements,” William reminded her. “Mr. Ball, send a distress call to Ahura Mazda. Tell them we need a tow back to the planet.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Ball said.

  William looked down at his ship’s status display. The damage control teams could not repair Thunderchild, not without a shipyard. Her entire rear section had been torn to ribbons. She’d need months in a shipyard, if the navy didn’t decide to simply scrap her. Thunderchild wasn’t worth keeping when the Commonwealth would be trying to build down after the end of the war.

  But at least she wasn’t entirely wrecked, he thought numbly. They’ll just decide to scrap her or sell her for whatever they can get.

  “Get the remainder of the crew out of the damaged sections, then seal them off,” he added, taking control of the situation. He was the commanding officer. He couldn’t wallow in guilt. “Once the sections are sealed, ready the crew for evacuation following Level Two protocols.”

  “Aye, sir,” Roach said.

  William took a moment to gather himself. The crewmembers were lucky. They would have a chance to collect their personal belongings before abandoning the ship. Hell, he could do it too. He had items in his cabin he didn’t want to lose. But saving them wouldn’t bring back what he’d lost. His ship had been his life. And with his homeworld a barren wasteland, he had no idea where he’d go.

  Scott did offer to take me, he thought. But why would I want to join a smuggler band?

  “Twenty-two crew are confirmed dead,” Roach reported. He sounded grim. “Nine are still missing. Damage control teams are sifting through the wrecked sections now.”

  “Understood,” William said. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost people under his command, but it never got any easier. And yet .
. . he compartmentalized his feelings. There would be time to mourn later, once the living were safe. “Bring the bodies back. We’ll take them with us and bury them before we leave the system.”

  “Aye, sir,” Roach said.

  “Captain,” Cecelia said, “two battlecruisers just dropped out of hyperspace. They’re hailing us.”

  “Tell them we need accommodation for my crew, then a tow back to Ahura Mazda,” William ordered bluntly. “And ask them to come alongside ASAP.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “So one of your clients lost another ship,” Israel Harrison said as Lucas sat down at the conference table. “To lose one ship may be regarded as a misfortune, but to lose two seems more like carelessness.”

  “A line your speechwriter gleefully stole from Oscar Wilde,” Lucas snapped. His implants had flagged the quote at once. “But he didn’t get it quite right.”

  “He’s having an off day,” Harrison said. His eyes narrowed. “I trust you came prepared for the meeting?”

  Lucas kept his face impassive. The governmental coalition was definitely falling apart as politicians readied themselves for the future. Whoever could make a credible claim to have won the war would have an excellent chance in the next set of elections, assuming the aftermath didn’t wind up costing the crown millions. And yet, the war was not over. Declaring victory ahead of time struck him as dangerously premature.

  He studied Harrison for a long moment as the Leader of the Opposition turned his attention to another attendee. Harrison had clashed before, repeatedly, with both King Hadrian and his father. The political strife had been buried when the war broke out, but none of the issues behind it had been resolved. Harrison, no doubt, wanted to make sure that certain issues were addressed before the war finally came to an end, either to secure his own position or put the Commonwealth on a steadier keel.