The loss hit Sansar like a blow to the gut. Her XO and one of her closest friends were both going off to die together, in some insane effort to stop something that couldn’t be stopped. She didn’t trust herself to talk; she merely nodded her head. “Go,” she finally said as she fought back the tears welling in her eyes.
Walker saluted and Nigel gave her a sad smile. “Tell my boy I loved him, even if I didn’t know him. I do this for him.” He spun and strode off toward the docking bay, his magnetic boots clicking purposefully, and Walker had to hurry to catch up.
* * *
CIC, New Warsaw Defense Command, New Warsaw System
“Son?” Walker asked, coming alongside him. “I didn’t know you had a son.”
“I didn’t either.”
The silence went on for a few seconds, and then Nigel said, “Sansar had a dream that Alexis wasn’t dead. She said she saw Alexis on the bridge of the Pegasus, bouncing our son on her knee.”
“But you weren’t there?”
Nigel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was flat. “No.”
Not sure how to answer that, Walker filled his time calling in all the members of the Horde who were available for the assault. Several platoons’ worth of troops met him at the entrance to the docking bay. “What’s up?” Walker asked. “I said to meet me at the shuttle.”
“Can’t go in yet, sir,” Corporal Nicholas Melton replied. “Some of the Avenger squadrons are landing. Apparently, they got hit pretty hard.”
“Do you know which ones?”
“I think they said the Ferrets and Badgers,” Corporal Jerome Everett said. “May have been more.”
“Damn,” Walker muttered.
“What’s wrong, sir?” Melton asked.
“I know the CO of the Ferrets,” Walker replied. “Hard luck squadron. They lost all but one in the battle for Earth.”
“Damn, that sucks,” Staff Sergeant Yvonne Jacobs said. Everyone else nodded in sympathy; they’d been around long enough to see it happen before. That still didn’t make it any better.
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” Walker said, mentally shaking it off. “The Merc Guild has a dreadnought, and, so far, nothing we’ve thrown at it has been able to stop it. Despite our best efforts, it’s going to reach Prime Base if we don’t stop it. What it will do there…I don’t know, but they’ve given every indication so far that they don’t intend to spare anyone in this system.”
“That’s fucked up, sir,” Corporal Matt Horan said. “There are still women and children aboard it.”
“Yes, Corporal, there are,” Walker said with a nod. “Colonel Shirazi here is going to take his cruiser and attempt to board the dreadnought, but he’s going to need help, both getting onto the ship and then capturing it from the Merc Guild. I told him I would help, as he’s saved the Horde on a number of occasions; it’s time for us to pay him back. We—Colonel Shirazi and I—expect the dreadnought to be heavily defended, but we cannot—we will not—allow it to get to Prime Base. We will not allow them to kill our women and children. Now, this isn’t something that the Horde normally does—we hold what you’ve got, we don’t normally take it away from someone else—however, we’ve all trained to this mission before, even if it was all the way back in cadre. Due to the nature of the mission, though, I won’t take anyone who’s not a volunteer. If you don’t want in on this, you are clear to go back to whatever you were doing with no stigma of not being part of it.
“Anyone want out?”
The men and women looked at each other with fear in their eyes, and Walker knew it could go either way. The first person to talk—for good or ill—would probably sway everyone. The Horde members wanted to help…but the odds were long that any of them would even survive to make it to the dreadnought, much less successfully complete their mission.
“Hell, sir,” Corporal Melton said, “my wife’s on the station. I don’t want those rat bastards getting her. I’m in.”
“Can’t let you do it by yourself,” Corporal Everett said. “If you got killed, I’d have to spend the rest of eternity with you never letting me live it down. I’m in.”
“Me, too,” Corporal Eric Chase added from the back of the group. “It’s time to show them who’s boss.” Everyone else began nodding. “What’s the plan, sir?”
“We hit them with everything we’ve got and kill anything that isn’t Human. We don’t stop until the CIC and engineering are in our hands.”
“I would ask you to not kill the Lumar I am bringing along,” Nigel said with a smile. “They are good troops and have proven to be allies in our fight against the Merc Guild. They may not be the smartest troops, but they are some of the most loyal, which is something you can’t say for most of the aliens.” The smile fled from his face as he added, “Speaking of which, if you see any Veetanho and can kneecap them, I’d love to get my hands on Paka, who used to be the second in command of the Winged Hussars. In case you haven’t heard, she shot Colonel Cromwell in the back. I know she has to be part of this force, somewhere, and I’m betting she’s on the dreadnought. If you can take her alive, I’d like to have…a talk…with her.”
Walker suppressed a shudder; that “talk” would be far from pleasant. Or survivable, if he had to guess. Still, it was nothing more than Paka deserved when it came right down to it.
The light to the bay went green, and the door unlocked. “All right, let’s go,” Walker said and led them into the shuttle bay. He started toward the shuttle, but then saw several figures walking toward the door he’d just come through. “Mount up,” he said, pointing to their shuttle. “I’ll be right there.”
He scanned the bay and counted; only six of the squadron’s twelve bombers were present. The Ferrets had gotten hammered…again. Of the 60 bombers the SalSha had started with, he could only see sixteen.
Thorb saw him waiting and came over to him. “We won,” he said, his voice lifeless, and his fur matted. His bombardier trudged alongside him, head down. “We lost almost three quarters of the SalSha crews, including six more of my own crews who went into the light, but the Merc Guild assault has been repulsed.” He didn’t stop to talk, but shambled past, his head down.
Walker opened his mouth, but then closed it again as he watched the small alien, who’d become his friend. Thorb’s shoulders were slumped, and Walker could tell he was spent, physically and emotionally. It didn’t take a psychologist to tell him that all the SalSha were heavily in the throes of PTSD—all he needed to do was look at them as they shuffled out of the landing bay, heads bowed. He had intended to ask for Thorb’s help reaching the dreadnought’s defenses, but found he didn’t have the heart. The creatures—always full of life and having fun—looked like they’d reach the end. They’d given all they could.
Fine. Between the Asbaran Solutions forces and the Horde forces under his command, they’d make do.
Walker turned and hurried to the shuttle.
* * *
CIC, New Warsaw Defense Command, New Warsaw System
Thorb entered the command center but was too tired—too emotionally spent—to be impressed with all of the displays. Sansar turned toward him as the door opened, and one of her hands went to her mouth in dismay. He was too tired to care about that. All he could feel was the soul-crushing loss of the 90 SalSha who’d gone into the light. Another battle like the one they’d just fought, and there wouldn’t be any more SalSha outside their home planet—they’d all be dead.
He sighed and then shuffled over to Sansar to make his report. Drawing up stiffly, he saluted. “Major Thorb, reporting as ordered.”
“Thank you for coming,” Sansar said. She started to say something, then thought better of it and said instead, “Thank you also for all of your races’ contributions today. I am greatly sorry for your losses.”
“Some days, the grahp fights back,” Thorb said with a shrug. “At least we won.”
“Well, not yet, we haven’t,” Sansar said.
“What?” Thorb asked, looking up in
surprise. “We destroyed the last battleship in the emergence area. Didn’t the other supporting ships there surrender?”
“They did…but there was one that got away. The Merc Guild’s dreadnought broke free from the emergence zone and is headed toward Prime Base. Didn’t you pass Walker on the way here? He is assisting Colonel Shirazi. They are going to try to board the dreadnought. It is a huge gamble, but we’ve got nothing left which can stop it. He was going to ask you to help.”
“He didn’t…he didn’t say anything to me…” Thorb said, not understanding why his friend hadn’t mentioned it. “I don’t know why.”
A small sad smile crossed Sansar’s face. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s because you don’t look like you have anything left to give. I suspect he took one look at you—and the losses you took today—and decided the SalSha race had done its part. That he couldn’t ask for anything else from you.”
“But…but…he can’t attack a dreadnought by himself. That’s…” Thorb searched for the right word, but only one came to mind. “That’s stupid.”
“Well, it’s been attacked a couple of times, and I guess he’s hoping that its defenses have been beaten down some so they can find a way through them, or at least give the defenders so many targets to shoot at that at least some of them get through. He didn’t confide his plan to me—probably because he knew I would order him to stand down.”
“Why did he go then, if he knew there was so little chance of success?”
The sad smile returned to Sansar’s face. “Humans are funny that way, sometimes. We don’t want to give up when there’s a chance we can still pull victory from the jaws of defeat. It doesn’t even have to be a big chance…sometimes it’s just the slimmest glimmer of hope. I think the worst part—for both Colonel Shirazi and Lieutenant Colonel Walker—was that they couldn’t stand around and watch the destruction of Prime Base—with all of its women and children onboard—and not do anything to try to stop it. I don’t think they would have been able to look themselves in the mirror tomorrow morning if they had. They’d rather go down fighting, knowing they’d done their best, rather than give in.”
“But I could have helped them. I could have given them a better chance of success!” Thorb looked around the command center for the first time and saw all the Humans who were still fighting, still doing their best, to bring the battle to a successful conclusion. The grahp was still outside their caves, it had not been destroyed as he’d initially thought, and he had taken himself out of the fight; he wasn’t doing his part.
“You still can, you know,” Sansar said.
“What?” Thorb asked, spinning back toward her. “What can I do?”
“You can still help them. They are only now getting underway. You can pull a whole lot more Gs than they can. There’s still time to get back to your bombers, get them armed, and get to the dreadnought ahead of them.”
Thorb nodded. “I will not allow my friend to go into the light; not without me at his side.” He took two steps toward the door, then turned and saluted. “Sorry, Colonel, I have to go.” He dropped the salute and raced through the door.
“Hey, Skald,” he commed as he ran toward the hangar. “Looks like you’re going to get your chance to see the dreadnought after all.”
* * * * *
Chapter Fourteen
CIC, EMS Shadowfax, New Warsaw System
“Concentrate main guns on the lead battleship,” Elizabeth yelled. The CIC was chaos as everyone tried to deal with more events than they had attention to give to them. A hundred damage reports blared for attention—missile magazine #2 had feed problems, the forward ventral shield generator was fluctuating dangerously, and a main power relay was out, among others. Among the many messages on Elizabeth’s console was a low priority status report from the sickbay. She hadn’t noticed it.
“Comms are spotty with the other Egleesius,” said Evie. She was sitting in for comms and SitCon, both of whom had been injured during the last attack only five minutes ago. They hadn’t lost any more ships, but only because they were sparring from a longer range. Minus screening vessels, the enemy battleships and missile cruisers were scoring hits. “It’s making it hard to coordinate!”
“The Lightships are harassing the enemy fleet, but are unable to get through their screen,” TacCom said. “They’ve lost three total.”
When the new ships appeared and destroyed the damaged Maki battleship, they’d looked like dancing light on water the way they maneuvered. “Lightships” had stuck. Remembering the briefing back on Prime Base, Elizabeth was sure they were Dusman ships. Impressive, sure. Sort of. She’d rather they had battleships or their own dreadnought.
“We’re going to have to get in closer,” Elizabeth said. Her surviving command crew looked at her with somber expressions. “If we can punch through the screens…”
“Maneuvering closer,” helm said.
The Egleesius’ particle accelerator spinal mounts possessed slightly better range, firepower, and flexibility than the ones on the battleships. Even though the battleships had more of them, they were located in bays scattered all around the ships’ spherical superstructure. Both of them also rotated steadily, allowing their shields to regenerate between attacks.
A wave of missiles lashed out at them. Their four surviving former Maki light cruisers and one heavy cruiser, Stonewall Jackson, all screened for the jockeying Egleesius. Dozens of missiles made it through the cruisers’ laser defenses. The light cruiser Langur disappeared in the nuclear fire, and Tamarin was battered and fell out of formation, unresponsive. Stonewall Jackson soaked up unbelievable amounts of fire and kept going.
“There!” Evie yelled as the CIC’s Tri-V showed a window.
“I see it,” Elizabeth said. “All Egleesius, on my mark…FIRE!”
The ancient battlecruisers lashed out with their 40-terawatt spinal mounts. An enemy battlecruiser side-slipped directly into the line of fire and was obliterated. Two of the five powerful beams found their mark. The battleship they’d targeted lost a shield and took damage, though not much.
“Son of a bitch!” Evie yelled. Elizabeth nodded.
Return fire flashed back as a dozen five-terawatt particle beams fired from the battleships’ bays. Captain Dan Corder of Stonewall Jackson took a page out of the enemy battlecruiser’s book and moved his ship directly into the line of fire. He suffered a similar fate.
With most of their remaining screen gone, the Egleesius tried to maneuver for another attack. Particle beams ripped through Arion, Phaeton, and Pegasus. Pegasus and Phaeton both had their CICs destroyed; Arion’s computer deck was ripped apart.
“No,” Elizabeth gasped. This can’t be how it ends. Another particle beam hit Shadowfax. The energized particles sliced one deck above her CIC, cutting away controls and overloading system. Half the panels went dead in the CIC, and the armored door slid open for no obvious reason.
Shadowfax listed badly from uncontrolled attitude jet inputs. Elizabeth was thrown sideways in her chair; her head hit a support, and she saw stars.
“Shadowfax, what’s your status?”
Elizabeth recognized the voice of Captain Drizz of Nuckelavee. She tried to respond, but her mouth was full of cotton. She managed to focus on the Tri-V, which, somehow, was still functioning. The enemy battleships were rotating to bring more particle beams to bear. She was about to die.
Another ship slid into screening position. It was the newest Steed-class, Sphinx, which had been completed while they were fighting at Earth. It only had a skeleton crew and had been kept in the middle of the formation to provide fire support.
“You fool,” she thought, as a half dozen five-terawatt particle beams lanced out at Sphinx. All six ricocheted off.
* * *
CIC, EMS Sphinx, New Warsaw System
“It fucking worked!” the TacCom yelled, pumping his fist. Overload alarms blared as two more particle beams rebounded from her shields.
“Good job,” Captain Jame
son said to his shield tech. The man had been working nonstop since the fleet first engaged in combat to get the new systems working with the rest of the ship’s shields. When Jameson ordered her into the line of fire, nobody knew if it would work.
“Nothing like a good old-fashioned live-fire test,” the tech laughed. “Deflectors. Who’d have thunk it?”
“Dr. Sato, apparently,” Jameson said.
“Power drain is critical,” the engineer yelled.
“Bring #3 to emergency power,” Jameson ordered. “Everything to deflectors and maneuvering.” He looked up at the two massive battleships which seemed confused by their inability to destroy the relatively tiny battlecruiser. “Let’s see what these things can do.”
* * *
CIC, BMS Trushista, New Warsaw System
Paka felt a tiny twinge when her battleship burned a meter-wide hole through the CIC on Pegasus. Only a tiny one. Her future was almost assured; only a few more distasteful acts were needed. She tried not to remember how she’d been welcomed as a Hussar and treated like family. The trust Alexis had bestowed upon her. She washed it away remembering her race’s ways; trust was for the weak. You watched your back, because nobody else would.
“Clear our screening ships,” Paka ordered. “Let’s finish this.”
The battlecruisers who’d been screening moved aside, and the battleships fired again. The Hussars lone ancient heavy cruiser they’d salvaged from 2nd level hyperspace moved into the way of the withering fire and died. There was nothing left to protect the surviving Egleesius. One more volley.
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