Defenders (The Chaos Shift Cycle Book 2)

by TR Cameron

  Taking a quick glance at Kate to judge her reaction, he found less positivity than he expected. There wasn’t time to dwell on it. “Set battle stations throughout the ship. Weapons, prepare everything we’ve got. Tactical, defenses in all directions. Helm, standard procedures for wormhole exit.” Neither Cross nor any of the bridge crew was comfortable with those standard procedures. Upon reversion, the computer would take control due to the incredibly high speeds at which the ship would exit the strange phenomenon that allowed them transit between distant sectors in minimal time.

  As the clock clicked down to two minutes, Cross adjusted the restraints holding him to his chair and prepared his personal displays for combat. The Washington’s retrofit had included upgrades to the command and control abilities accessible through his screens, and it was always a temptation to execute tasks that were best left to the crew members assigned to them. He didn’t indulge frequently. The one task he did often take upon himself was routing his own communications, and he did so now, connecting his earpiece and the tiny microphone on his collar to the chief engineer. “Jannik, is the new toy ready to test?”

  The older man’s gravelly voice came back filled with an inappropriate level of amusement given the circumstances, in Cross’s opinion. “Of course, my boy. Two of them are loaded in the aft tubes. Weapons is aware and has control of them.”

  “Thanks, Jannik.”

  “Don’t mention it. No reward required, unless you’ve got a bottle of something hidden away.”

  Cross laughed, and said, “I’m a little busy right at the moment, Jannik. Wormhole exit in one minute. Cross out.”

  As he watched the time evaporate, Cross focused himself. He calmed his breathing, closed his eyes, and emptied his mind of personal concerns, locking them away so he could focus on the events about to unfold.

  Lieutenant Zachary Lee’s pleasant baritone announced, “Exit time change. Exit now in 10… 9… 8…”

  Cross opened his eyes as the man said, “One,” to see the explosion of light that was transition.

  It was always harsh to leave the garish colors of what Cross considered imaginary space and revert to hard reality. The crew was thrown to starboard as the Washington careened from the wormhole, and the computer evaded an enemy in her path. By the time the displays caught up, the rest of the battle group had also emerged, and the computers were positioning them in the standard UAL battle deployment.

  “Looks like four enemy squadrons,” tactical officer Lieutenant Alan Jacobs announced. “All of our ships have arrived, which leaves us outnumbered roughly two to one.” The command channel came alive in his ear as the captain of the Caracas, the senior officer in the sector, gave orders. The Washington joined a four-ship sortie and was routed on a long arc around the edge of the enemy force.

  “Holy hell, it’s huge,” Kate said, bringing Cross’s attention back to the main screen. The UAL had named it “Goliath,” and it was visible despite its distance. It was about twice the size 0f their largest starbases and looked like some demonic snowflake, with sharp tines radiating out in all directions from a central sphere. They had learned in a previous engagement that many of those spikes ended in weapons. Initial sorties against Goliath had shown that their existing slings were utterly inadequate to the task. Today’s battle was an opportunity to test out a new piece of equipment against the monstrosity, and each of the ships in the Washington’s subgroup carried a pair of the experimental munitions.

  The plan called for the other twelve ships of the attacking force to make a feint toward the Goliath, driving straight for it while Cross’s group took a circuitous path. The hope was that the larger numbers would draw the defenders, giving the Washington and her cohorts access to the objective. The plan fell apart quickly.

  “Four ships are on an intercept course,” Jacobs reported from tactical. “The computer identifies them as standard configuration, so we are evenly matched.”

  “Dammit,” Cross replied. “I hate being evenly matched.” Several of his officers nodded in agreement. “I’m sure Captain Aguayo will have something up his sleeve.”

  Seconds later, the voice of Caracas actual crackled into his earpiece. “Washington and Cozumel, take passing shots at the defenders, but blow through them and continue on to target. The Calgary and the Victoria will engage all four enemy ships, prioritizing those who attempt to pursue you. Once you’ve released the test munitions, proceed to the wormhole entrance and get out of here. We’ll all be doing the same.”

  Cross echoed the commands to his crew, “Weapons, set up both broadsides, just in case we go through the middle of them. Tactical, do your magic with the shields, keep us safe. Helm, evade as needed but maintain the most direct line you can to the Goliath.” He thought for a second, then amended his orders, “Weapons, you are free to engage the defenders, but be sure that the forward tubes are ready to launch on the Goliath when we’re close enough.”

  “Affirmative, Commander,” said the rolling brogue of Lieutenant Marcas Walsh.

  Cross finished his plans, “Sensors, record data from our ordinary torpedoes as well, so we can compare it to the new surprise we have in store for them.” Seconds later they were within range of the defenders, and he felt the forward tubes firing. The battle display verified that the other three ships in the group did the same, four missiles targeting each of the front two enemies. “Torpedoes only, weapons. Save the power for the shields.”

  Cross had a moment to appreciate the professionalism of his crew, all of whom were focused on their positions. He exchanged looks with Kate, whose responsibility during this run was to act as a backup to the sensor station, sorting through and recording data from the battle. She would also be second-guessing each of his commands, like a good executive officer should.

  His attention was drawn back to the display as their icons intersected with those of the four defenders. The real-time view showed the blooms of launches from both sides, and he heard the point defense cannons doing their work to protect the Washington. Despite those efforts, the shields lit up with torpedo impacts, and the status display revealed that enemy lasers had scored on the port side of the Washington’s aft section. A quick toggle to an external camera on his personal display showed that the only damage was to an extra layer of ablative armor that had been tacked on to all UAL ships that underwent retrofitting. It wasn’t pretty, but it helped shield the crew and the vital components of the Washington from the enemy’s attempts to kill them, so aesthetics be damned.

  “Launching standard torpedoes now,” reported Walsh.

  “Lee, get us on a vector out of here as quickly as possible.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied the helmsman, and the Washington turned in a tight curve to retrace her path.

  “Experimental torpedoes launched.”

  “Very good, Lieutenant Walsh. Weapons free to engage Alpha-1.” The battle display had updated with names and icons for each of the enemy ships, and the Caracas had chosen their target for them. “Fire upon targets of opportunity as well.” Knowing his ship was in good hands, Cross watched to see the results of the torpedo launches. One of the other ships had thought of the same test, and four standard torpedoes led the way. As they closed, the gravity-based defenses of the Goliath engaged and the missiles curved away in different directions, repulsed from the fortress.

  “I hate it when they do that,” murmured Cross, eyes glued to the display. The experimental torpedoes were designed to circumvent the gravitic shield. When they detected a gravity field, onboard computers would divert thrust to the opposite vector, keeping the missiles on target. That was the theory, anyway. In practice, the torpedoes were slowed as they entered the shield area, and the Goliath’s other defenses overcame them before they could do any damage.

  “Did I just see what I think I saw, Kate?”

  Kate was already watching the replay, and the excitement in her voice was clear when she said, “Yes you did. The torpedoes counteracted the gravitic defenses. It’s the first step
toward beating the Goliath.” Cross knew she was excited because they might have a way to counter the opponent, and that she would never take credit for her larger role in the project. It was Kate and Jannik who developed the initial sensor modifications to improve the responsiveness of the torpedoes enough for them to be adapted to this purpose.

  The four ships reformed as a group and evaded the defenders, shifting aft shields to full power and blasting toward their exit point. Cross was about to congratulate his crew on a successful foray against the aliens when the ship lurched violently. The main display flickered and died as sparks shot out from all the instruments on the port side of the bridge. The smell of ozone was thick in the air, and automatic fire extinguishers deployed as rogue electricity caused small fires.

  “Report.”

  “The Cozumel just exploded, Commander,” said Jacobs. “Damage reports coming in. We have lost all weapons on that side and shield generators are inoperative. Sections seven through thirteen on decks Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie are open to vacuum, but not destroyed.”

  “Sensors, what happened?”

  Lieutenant Cristian Flores replied, “It was a weapon from the Goliath, sir. We haven’t seen it before, and it appears to have completely ignored the Cozumel’s’ shields.”

  “Evasive,” Cross commanded. Lee triggered random movements to make targeting difficult. “Try to keep enemy ships between us and that thing.”

  The command net crackled in his ear, “Be advised that the Goliath possesses an unknown energy weapon. We are analyzing now, but our best guess is that there are several other spines identical to the ones that generated the blast. Make top speed—” The voice cut off, and Cross heard someone on the Caracas speaking to the captain.

  “The Goliath has launched ships of unfamiliar configuration. All UAL forces should regroup at secondary rally points and engage the enemy. Sensor officers are ordered to continue recording and analyzing. We need to gather data on these new ships before we depart the sector.”

  Cross paused for a moment, his voice stolen by unexpected fear spiking through him. Then his brain caught up. “Take us to the secondary rally point. Expedite. Tactical, do what you can to keep us safe. Helm, port side away from the enemy at all costs.” He sat up straight in his chair and adjusted his uniform, pulling it into alignment. “We have some new playmates it seems; let’s welcome them to our playground.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  As the trio of ships remaining from the Washington’s group reformed at their secondary position, the situation was clear on the battle display. The other two had also taken considerable damage from the Cozumel’s annihilation. The three vessels hung in space, awaiting the next command from the task force leader.

  “Sensors, find those strange ships and start your analysis. Be certain to record everything for later study.”

  Lieutenant Flores responded with a preoccupied, “Yes, sir,” which Cross took as a signal that he was already deep in the pursuit of data on the unexpected entrants.

  He pivoted toward his executive officer and asked, “See anything interesting?”

  Kate’s face was not as melancholy as the other members of the bridge crew, probably because she had a fresh puzzle to set her formidable mind against. “Well, we know the Goliath has at least two distinct types of weapons. First, the common energy cannons we were already aware of and have developed some defense against. Now, as for the second type, the data suggests that it was some gravity-based weapon we’ve not met before that destroyed the Cozumel.”

  “Any thoughts on the mystery ships?”

  “We don’t have them isolated yet,” she said, glancing down at her own displays. “It’s almost as if the others are running interference to keep us from being able to get a lock on them—.” Kate stopped mid-sentence, then spoke again, “Got ‘em.”

  Cross swiveled to the main screen as the battle plot updated, with newly drawn outlines to show the locations of two new ships, each making a swift run on the fringe of the UAL forces. Each was protected by a squad of four “standard” members of the rival fleet. On one side of the screen, a window opened showing a distant real-time view of the ships, and in the lower corner, the sensors mapped out representations as they collected data. Over the next several seconds, the wireframes grew bigger and became more detailed, the resulting diagram resembled a teardrop. The vessels were curved at the front, pointed at the rear, and remarkably flat.

  “That doesn’t look like a warship,” said Cross.

  “It does not,” affirmed Lieutenant Alan Jacobs from tactical.

  Captain Aguayo spoke in his ear, dispatching the Washington, the Munich, and the Oslo toward one of the teardrops and its escorts. Cross was heartened as another three ships were detailed to accompany them, providing at least numerical superiority.

  “Helm, set an intercept course and coordinate with our group. Weapons, fire as soon as they’re in range, and keep firing. Focus on the new ship, but if you find a vulnerability in one of the others, exploit it.”

  He twisted and faced Jacobs. “Shield status?”

  The lieutenant shook his head, his longish, black hair making the action more dramatic than intended. “We have minimal coverage to port. I’m getting a slight overlap by manipulating the top and bottom shields, but not enough to maintain integrity against attacks from that side.”

  “Helm, keep us on the perimeter. Tactical, notify the other ships of our plans.”

  “Ten seconds until we are in range,” announced Walsh.

  “Weapons free,” said Cross. “Sensors, verify recording.”

  The forces each shot at maximum range, exchanging torpedoes, laser, and plasma blasts to splash off of one another’s shields, producing no significant damage. They crossed in space, narrowly avoiding impact, and the UAL ships looped around to reverse course for a second pass. Cross was surprised to see the enemy disengage and streak toward a blank zone in the sector. “Fire all forward weapons,” he snapped. The immediate attack didn’t penetrate.

  It was Kate who put it together first. “Cross, check the trajectory of the new ships.”

  He looked up and recognized it. “Dammit.” As he keyed his microphone to warn the Caracas, the captain’s voice came over the battle net. “The enemy is attempting to reach the wormhole. Ships in range, fire everything at them.” Cross imagined he could hear the engines of the UAL fleet straining as they poured on speed to protect the wormhole. The sustained weapons barrage knocked out two of the escorts, but both teardrops plunged undamaged into the rift in space.

  “I didn’t know they could use wormholes,” said Lieutenant Anna Fitzpatrick from the communication station.

  “That holds true for all of us,” Cross replied, “fleet command included, evidently.” He took a second to refocus, then marked a Xroeshyn vessel on his display. “Helm, weapons, there’s our target. Go get it.”

  Cross had chosen a straggler, an injured ship, seeking to make its way outside the main swirl of battle. The Washington lunged forward onto a new heading to creep in behind before it could reach the shelter of the Goliath. He waited with a tight smile as they closed on the enemy, which engaged them with energy weapons at maximum range. “Hold until we’re close enough to fire everything at once.”

  “Affirmative,” replied Walsh.

  Then they were in range, and the Washington fired her forward array. Lasers and plasma cannons combined to light up the enemy’s aft shields. Torpedoes charged in behind.

  “Slew and shoot,” ordered Cross, and the Washington’s maneuvering thrusters activated, bringing the starboard side in line with the fleeing foe. Her broadside erupted, overloading the enemy’s depleted defenses. A plasma cannon was the first to penetrate. It melted through the middle of the ship before emerging at an angle from the top. A chain of explosions followed, and debris jetted out into space.

  “Evasive,” Cross snapped, but Lieutenant Lee had already steered them under the exploding wreck, veering away, leaving their strengthened starb
oard shields facing any fragments that might come their way.

  Voices overrode one another on the battle net as commanding officers reacted to the disappearance of the new ships.

  Cross turned to Kate and asked, “Analysis?”

  She chewed her lip for a minute, clearly thinking. “First, they needed to activate the correct frequencies to open the wormhole. Second, they must have marked our arrival to find the entrance. Or they have the sensors to detect it themselves. Or some mix of the two. Hopefully, they don’t have maps of the system. Yet.” She sounded troubled.

  “Our double jump practice should keep our origin a secret, right?”

  She shrugged. “We have to assume that if they decided to reveal this strategy, there must be more to it than just backtracking a single transit. They have to know we’re too smart to travel straight from an exposed sector.”

  Cross considered this as he returned to the battle plot. He marked another target on his personal display. “Jacobs, Walsh, watch this one. He’s turning in our direction. When he gets in range, engage.” Trusting his people, he swung back to Kate.

  “Your argument makes sense. So, what’s their next move?”

  “I don’t know. And that really disturbs me.”

  Seconds later, the Washington lurched as she altered course. Cross watched the new ship draw near. The two passed, exchanging broadsides to no effect. “Weapons, launch torpedoes to strike in sequence, rather than all at once. Maintain a continuous energy barrage. Tactical, route half of our shield power into the cannons as the torpedoes are about to hit. Helm, it will be up to you to keep the Washington out of danger. Execute.”

  The ship changed course and drove toward her foe. Lieutenant Lee plotted an effective evasive pattern, skirting the bulk of the incoming strikes. Lieutenant Marcas Walsh had marked a single target spot, and launched everything at it. When the power allotment increased, it became too much for the enemy’s shields, and several torpedoes found a defenseless channel to the hull. The front end disintegrated under the blast, and the rest went pinwheeling above the Washington, heading for deep space.