“What happened?” asked Vance loudly over the clunk of the gravity clamps engaging.
“The Expectation’s propulsion just went out of overstress, Sergeant, which means the core override is either purged or nearly purged.”
The moment a second green light – docking successful – appeared, Recker sprang from his seat. He wasn’t even out of the cockpit when he heard the destroyer’s engines, this time without overstress, rise again and he experienced a sense of acceleration which told him Aston was going somewhere fast.
Recker was first through the exit hatch and he dashed across the Expectation’s bay, speaking on the internal comms to Lieutenant Burner. In short sentences, Recker explained what he’d found on the Interrogator and made sure his crew was aware of the significance.
When Recker was done, Lieutenant Burner filled him in on the destroyer’s as-yet incomplete recovery from the core override.
“Almost everything’s responding, sir. The core override is still affecting some of our systems, but we’re heading back to normal.”
“What about the other ships in the fleet?” asked Recker, charging along a corridor which seemed to stretch on forever.
“They’re not yet on the comms, sir. One of the desolators lifted off about five seconds ago and disappeared into the dust.”
All the signs of early-combat chaos were present and Recker hated that he wasn’t yet able to stamp his mark on the situation. At last, he made it to the bridge and threw himself into his chair.
“Welcome back, sir,” said Aston. She didn’t look over and her expression was set in absolute determination. “The controls are all yours.”
“Thanks, I’ve got them.”
Recker’s brain absorbed information from numerous different sources. The sensors were online, he could see that from the way Burner was updating the view on the bulkhead screen, though the feed was glitchy and lower resolution than usual.
Aston had kept the Expectation within the dust storm at a low altitude and the closest HPA warship – the Trojan battleship – was twenty kilometres south. Other than that, the view was of swirling red particles and faintly discerned shapes which could be anything.
“We’re heading around in support of our fleet,” said Recker, bringing the destroyer into a tight arc. “Where’s that desolator?”
“Nothing on the sensors, sir.”
“I doubt it ran for the hills.”
“No, sir. I’ll find it.”
“Still waiting for full control over several of our subsystems,” said Eastwood. “I shut down this overstress device the moment I could access the propulsion. The box produced a bunch of errors and I don’t know if it’s going to work again.”
“Weapons are apparently online, sir, but the targeting systems aren’t responding,” said Aston. “Our missiles won’t lock.”
“Is it something you can fix?”
“I’m trying, sir. This is a lingering result from the core override – I think we’ll have to wait for it to clear.”
“It needs to happen soon. We’re going to find those desolators and put a couple of Hellburners through their armour.”
“I’ll do what I can, sir.”
“The Trojan’s comms came online!” said Burner. “I’ve got a channel.”
“Fill them in.”
“Yes, sir.” Burner made a surprised sound. “Captain Eden Melody is in charge.”
“What happened to Admiral Fraser?”
“He’s no longer on the battleship, sir.”
Recker had no doubt there was a tale to hear regarding Admiral Fraser’s departure from the Trojan, though it wasn’t a good moment to press for the gory details. “Is Captain Melody planning to join the battle?”
“She is intending – and I quote – to kick some ass, sir. She’s the most senior officer in the arena and we’re ordered to assist.”
“Gladly,” said Recker.
“Still nothing from the targeting systems, sir.”
“We’ve got to locate those desolators first,” said Recker. “One took off, that leaves two others. If they’re grounded, we can hit them from short range, with or without a target lock.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Trojan is off the ground, sir, and we’re joining a battle network,” said Burner.
One green dot – the battleship – appeared on the sensors and was closely followed by two others, the furthest being forty kilometres from the Expectation. “The Shock and Awe is with us,” said Recker, his hopes of a successful mission climbing for the first time since the Expectation exited lightspeed twenty million kilometres off target.
“The Harken is still on the ground, sir. They’re reporting engine problems.”
Recker’s newfound hopes faded as quickly as they’d arrived. “Can they resolve?”
“Early indications point to a maybe.”
“Damnit, this is our opportunity to strike!” Recker calmed himself. “Anything from the Titan?”
“No, sir – still offline.”
“It’s a difficult thing to say, but I don’t think the lifter’s crew made it,” said Eastwood. “I hope I’m wrong.”
Recker hoped so too, though he couldn’t allow himself to think about it.
“We’re about five klicks from the expected position of the second desolator,” said Burner. “Our sensors aren’t responding correctly, sir. At first I thought it was a calibration issue, but now I’m beginning to wonder if the core override did some lasting damage – it’s like the array processing units are at ten percent even though the status monitor says they’re running normally.”
Not only was the feed quality terrible, Recker also wondered if the dust had thickened during the time he’d been inside the Interrogator. The storm seemed concentrated within the impact craters, making them a potential hiding place for the Daklan heavy cruisers. With the sensors operating at reduced efficiency, Recker was doubly worried about his warship taking a Terrus cannon hit from out of nowhere.
Maybe every warship is affected, not just the Expectation.
“Lieutenant Burner – check in with the other spaceships and find out if they’re suffering the same limitations as we are.”
In the few seconds it took Burner to obtain a response, Recker piloted the Expectation low towards a ridge which had been formed by the multiple impacts with Pinvos.
“Every ship has a problem, sir. Mostly sensors and targeting like ours.”
“We’re going to need a complete strip-down once we return to base,” said Eastwood angrily.
Recker didn’t get a chance to respond. Suddenly the forward feed was obscured by an explosion of dust and rock. It cleared in moments, leaving him staring at an enormous hole in the ridge, like a god’s fist had punched clean through.
Not a fist. A Terrus cannon.
Even as the thought formed, Recker banked the Expectation away from its previous course. The Daklan had got a sight of his warship and the fact that they’d missed with their first effort suggested they were having the same issues with sensors and targeting.
Facing nine billion tons of Daklan metal, Recker knew he’d need plenty of backup.
Chapter Fourteen
With his warship at full thrust, Recker clenched his jaw and waited for the missiles to come. A flash lit up the rear feed, the plasma light turning quickly to grey as the storm shrouded the flames. At the same time, an explosion of rock fountained from the floor of the impact crater below and stones like hard missiles clattered against the underside plating.
“There goes their second Terrus cannon,” said Aston. “Shame they’ve got a quick reload.”
“We need a sensor lock,” said Recker. “Otherwise this is going to be the shortest engagement of the war.”
“Working on it, sir.”
“And where’s our backup?”
A red dot flickered on the tactical, hardly more than fifty kilometres from the Expectation. The dot vanished and reappeared at ninety kilometres on a different vector. I
t vanished again and another dot appeared, this time at 120 kilometres.
“Are those ghosts or enemy warships?” Recker asked.
“I don’t know, sir. The storm is screwing with our sensor lock. Gut feel is the Daklan have two desolators in the air, not three.”
Recker was furious to have missed the opportunity to get the first strike at the enemy and he desperately hoped one of the Daklan heavies was still on the ground.
“I trust your instinct, Lieutenant Burner - there are two desolators in the air. That leaves one down and I want you to figure out where it is.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got fifty-fifty coordinates.”
In the circumstances, Recker was happy with a fifty-fifty. “I’ll take us low into this next impact crater to cut out the firing angle of the Terrus cannons,” he said. “We need to blanket those coordinates with missiles.”
This was one of the times when a good comms officer could prove his or her worth, and Burner was up there with the best. Rather than acting as a dumb relay of information between the HPA warships, he could read the situation by watching the sensors and listening to the other officers, allowing him to act and react quicker than an officer who relied on direct instruction for everything.
“Yes, sir. I’ve made the Trojan aware. They’re going to saturate the area with plasma warheads.”
Between them, the Trojan and the Shock and Awe were packing enough missile clusters to lay waste to a city in a single combined launch. It wasn’t necessary to have a weapons lock to hit an unmoving target and a few seconds after Recker passed on his recommendation, hundreds of missiles plunged into one of the impact craters. Such was the intensity, the dust storm was unable to completely obscure the view and it seemed as though the burning horizon gave warning of the brutality to come.
As if fate had chosen to mock this effort to destroy the Daklan heavy cruiser, three red dots appeared on the tactical, each one solid and travelling along its own vector within the dust storm. The closest was at 150 kilometres and the furthest at 200 kilometres. Then, the flickering resumed and all three of the desolators vanished completely.
“Gone to ground,” said Aston. “Sneaky bastards.”
“They’re within fifty klicks of the Interrogator,” said Burner. “It’s like they’re staking out their claim.”
“The Daklan aren’t ready to give it up yet,” said Recker.
If the enemy felt obliged to protect the alien cube, it was a constraint on their action, though maybe not a significant one.
“Pass on my recommendation to Captain Melody that the satellite should not be given any consideration.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve already made the Trojan aware of the data you extracted.”
“Commander Aston, think you can get off an Ilstrom launch with the guidance systems disabled?”
“Yes, sir, but the chance of scoring a hit is slim at best – that flickering on the tactical means the target could be hundreds of metres away from its apparent position. If the enemy detect us from our launch, they’ll retaliate and they might be luckier than we are.”
The HPA military taught its officers how to fight in limited visibility situations, but the simulator could never be a perfect copy of the real thing. It offered a glimpse of the endless variables and a hint at the difficulties. What the simulator absolutely couldn’t do was prepare an officer for the stress of an engagement like this one. Recker had experience, but that didn’t make it easy for him.
A red dot appeared on the tactical and another two Terrus slugs crashed into the side of the impact crater, only a few hundred metres from the Expectation. Recker swore at the speed of the attack. The curse had barely left his tongue when one of the flickering red dots on the tactical jumped about thirty kilometres from its previous position.
He cursed again and banked the Expectation deeper into the impact crater. This one had been created by the Shock and Awe and pieces of debris - recognizable as armour plates - were scattered everywhere, suggesting the cruiser had taken significant damage.
“The enemy are staying low in the Interrogator’s impact crater,” Recker guessed. “And only putting their heads up long enough to fire at us.”
“What do they have to gain from that, sir?” asked Eastwood.
“This is how they think they can beat us, Lieutenant.”
Recker tried to figure out the permutations. When it came to an engagement between opposing warships, altitude wasn’t necessarily an advantage. What mattered most was a combination of outright firepower and – though the manuals rarely talked about it in such honest terms – outguessing the opponent. Right now, the Daklan believed they could win by staying out of the Trojan’s charge cannon firing arc, while relying on the much higher velocity of the Terrus slugs to do some damage to the HPA spaceships.
“The Harken is unable to get into the air, sir,” said Burner. “They’re thirty klicks north in the next crater.” He cleared his throat. “Captain Melody is concerned the enemy will locate the cruiser and destroy it before those technical issues are overcome.”
“Time for the fireworks,” said Aston, understanding the meaning.
“We’re instructed to treat the Interrogator as a secondary mission goal, sir,” Burner finished. “A nice to have. However, we are to take whatever action is required to protect the Harken.”
“What about our weapons? Are we to hold fire when there’s a risk of hitting the Interrogator?”
“Captain Melody is assured that the cube is robust enough to withstand a certain amount of punishment, sir. Just not the level of punishment that would result from deployment of one of the devastator bombs the Trojan is carrying in its hold.”
The answer left Recker no clearer as to how much of the destroyer’s weaponry he was permitted to deploy – without active targeting, the warship’s missiles might easily strike the Interrogator. Luckily, Captain Melody didn’t leave him guessing for long.
“The Trojan suggests we halt our progress towards the cube,” said Burner. “They’re about to set that area of Pinvos on fire.”
The words were a trigger, not only for the HPA fleet, but also to the Daklan. Recker’s tactical became speckled in flickering, fast-moving objects in both red and green. Through the dust clouds above, a ball of pure, deep blue energy with a 200-metre diameter streaked across the sky.
“Charge cannon bolt, heading straight into the Interrogator’s crater. So much for nice to have,” said Aston.
A second glowing sphere went after the first, racing by just as the first detonated in a vivid flash which turned everything white, highlighting the dust particles as tiny dots which appeared like static on the feed.
In between the first charge cannon explosion and the second, Recker saw a line of orange race into the sky, closely followed by another, this time from a different source.
“Daklan incendiaries,” said Burner. “Target location currently unknown.”
Feilar missiles suddenly exploded all around the Expectation, in such quantities that the entire slope behind the warship became covered in plasma, and rock was ejected from dozens of new craters. It took Recker a moment to realize that one of the Daklan warheads had struck the Expectation and the rumble of the blast made the control bars shake beneath his palms.
“Damage report,” he growled, giving the propulsion maximum as he aimed the destroyer for the opposite side of the crater. The slope that way wasn’t steep, but it would offer cover if the desolator targeting them was at a low altitude.
“No breach, sir,” said Eastwood. “Didn’t even break through the plating.”
It sounded to Recker like the new angled armour had done its job, though he wasn’t planning to let it suffer any more impacts than necessary. He brought the Expectation to the slope of the crater and banked to follow the perimeter, while staying two thousand metres below the planet’s original surface level.
A red dot appeared on the tactical, its altitude increasing rapidly. Twin Terrus impacts on the floor of the crater fo
llowed and then the desolator vanished into the Interrogator’s crater again. Too late, missiles from the Trojan and Shock and Awe flew in answer.
A third bolt from the Trojan’s charge cannon went overheard, along with the burning lines of Ilstrom propulsions. Feilars went the other way and Recker was beginning to feel like an insect, creeping along the skirting board and hoping to reach a place of safety before the underside of a boot descended upon him.
The taunting thoughts of his mind made him purse his lips in tense frustration. He knew the Expectation’s Hellburners could do some damage, but only if he landed them on target.
“Where are those incendiaries coming down, Lieutenant?” asked Recker.
“I’ve just put the overlay on the tactical, sir.”
The projected detonation area for the Daklan explosives was several hundred square kilometres, concentrated on the Trojan’s position.
“All of this dust is going to burn up, sir,” said Aston.
“Those charge cannon blasts will have done the same to the vicinity of the Interrogator,” said Recker. “We just have to get close enough to take advantage.”
He pictured the combat arena in his mind. The Interrogator was 120 kilometres north and the Expectation was still in the overlapping crater made by the Shock and Awe. To the west was the adjoining crater where the Harken had come down.
Recker didn’t want to go west in case it drew the Daklan’s attention to the HPA cruiser. Instead, he went east, towards the place where the heavy lifter Titan had crashed. From memory, he reckoned it should be possible to approach the site of the Interrogator and maybe get a couple of Hellburners into one of the desolators.
“I’ve detected another incendiary launch, sir. It’s too early to predict the target area,” said Burner. “Charge cannon plasma ball coming in response.”
The blast from the charge cannon had a radius of ten kilometres which should have been exceptionally effective in the current engagement, but somehow Recker didn’t think the Daklan were likely be sucker-punched. The way the three heavy cruisers were operating made him think their commanding officers had plenty of experience.
Fractured Horizons (Savage Stars Book 2) Page 12