Resolve of Steel (Halloran's War Book 2)

by J. R. Geoghan

  “Captain,” called Commander Danyal from his post at the back of the bridge. Orris stepped to his location. “Damage-control reports ready. All compartments report sealed and ready, sir,” “Valor and Saranin are within formation, ready in all respects. Usar reports that they will be in position in one minute, thirty seconds. Borelin is in position for reserve with Vanguard two minutes, forty-five seconds back.”

  Orris frowned. “That bumbler Jollo. They weren’t ready.”

  “Sir, I think we should bring Borelin and Vanguard up while we still can. It’s six on four with another three inbound on our flank.”

  Orris nodded at the man’s suggestion. “Trust me, I understand the tactical situation. But we can’t leave Tavar without a reserve. We’ll just have to make a dent with what we have at hand.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Captain,” The lead Prax in the first phalanx is firing. Correction, they’re all firing!”

  “Brace, everyone!” Orris grabbed a rail near him.

  The Argon’s arti-grav fluctuated violently, the intensity of it driving him to his knees with a grunt. Lighting flickered.

  “Plasma hit in Life Support!” yelled a tech.

  Orris held onto the rail as his eyes met Danyal’s. “Nice shot. Return fire, Commander.”

  “We’ll be within effective range in ninety seconds.”

  “Return fire, Commander Danyal.”

  Danyal leaned into his station, sending the command to all ships. “Fire at maximum range—now!”

  “Captain! Something’s happening!”

  Orris struggled to his full height, planting his feet and making his way across the bridge to his own station as damage reports began lighting up screens and comms all around him. He felt the satisfying lurch of the ship as their own weapons fired. He dropped into his seat. “What is it, Treela?”

  “The targeting computer is reporting a new contact directly ahead. But then it changes its mind and cancels the contact!”

  “Well, what is it?” Orris demanded, scrolling through his own repeater screen menu.

  “It’s nothing, sir. Empty space. Look!”

  The Pilot, Treela and Orris looked at the forward display at the same time. The Pilot said, “My system is telling me to avoid colliding with the mass in front of us.”

  But Orris was staring at what appeared to be a rearranging of the stars before his eyes. The normal panorama of lights seemed to elongate, then collapse on itself. Something wasn’t right about it. “Lieutenant, range to this new target?”

  “The computer is saying twenty thousand, Captain, but that can’t be right…”

  Orris had glanced to her as she reported but now saw something different on the screen. The stars were now missing. Something big and black was blocking them from view. Whatever it was was absorbing the light. “Lieutenant…”

  “New contact! Um, unknown vessel.”

  “Unknown?”

  “The hull is unclassified, Captain.”

  “Commander!”

  Danyal called. “Targeting has acquired the new contact.”

  “Bring all forward batteries into the attack.”

  A tech called, “Captain, Usar reports heavy damage in their second reactor compartment; evacuation of that level underway. The ship has lost maneuvering!”

  Orris was focused on the new contact. “Treela, what are the sensors telling you?” He prompted at her silence as she frowned over her console.

  “It’s a light cruiser class in size. Maybe a large frigate. It’s not in the Fleet registry, either public or classified. Sir!” She turned to him. “Reactor output is identified as Prax in signature.”

  “Fire on my command! It’s too close and can shoot right down our line.”

  Danyal called back. “Target is firing!”

  Too late, Orris fumed.

  “Direct hit on the lead Prax vessel! Great broadside.”

  “What?” Orris jumped to his feet despite the disproportionate gravity that tested his leg strength.

  “The new contact fired on the Prax lead target,” Danyal confirmed.

  “They’re shooting at each other?” Orris stamped over to Treela’s station, sick of his repeater. He was an old sensor tech himself and craved the larger displays. “Show me.”

  The comm tech called out. “Incoming hail on open fleet frequency, Captain!”

  Orris looked up. “Let’s hear it.” The artigrav surge relented and he could stand more comfortably now.

  A buzzing sound filled the bridge, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Then, “To Commander human Fleet, do not fire on the target at the head of your line. Repeat, do not fire! This is Pyotr Antonov, Executive Officer of the USS Serapis, at your service.” After a moment’s pause filled with confused looks passing between the Argon’s bridge crew, the man continued. “We’re on your side, commander.”

  Orris pointed at Treela. “Get me an identification on that ship, Lieutenant.”

  Danyal cried out. “Prax are firing projectiles, Captain!”

  “Return fire!”

  “At the new target, sir?”

  “At the ones shooting at us, Commander!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then everything descended into a chaos of sound and fury.

  Aboard Serapis

  “No answer?” Halloran glanced Antonov’s way. The Russian shook his head.

  “Sir, the lead human ship just took a heavy broadside of projectiles.”

  “Anything coming our way yet?”

  “Nothing yet, sir.”

  “Can we get another shot into Charlie-three?”

  Djembe answered. “Our velocity needed to get ahead of their formation is carrying us well beyond the battle, but I think I can adjust our orientation and get off another plasma broadside targeting Charlie-three.”

  “Do it now, pilot. Weapons, prepare to fire on the Pilot’s mark!”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Aboard Valor

  “I knew it!” Heres stormed across his bridge. “He’s shown himself!”

  “The ship just announced its identity as the ‘USS Serapis.’ A commander I don’t recognize by name,” called Renno. “They just hailed the Argon.”

  “It’s Halloran. It has to be the same ship.”

  “Sir, fire on the crew deck is expanding into adjoining sections; the suppression system was punctured by a projectile.”

  Heres hit the comm near him. “Engineering, status!”

  “We took a hit down here, Captain, but repairs are being made. You have full capability.”

  “Excellent. Renno, close on that ship. Grisa, return fire on the Prax line; pick one ship to target.”

  Renno turned in her chair. “Sir, we’ll be pulling ahead of the Argon—.”

  “Just do it, Renno,” Heres said in a low tone to her as he walked back and forth. The ship shuddered as the main battery let loose its barrage of plasma bolts.

  “New target has a velocity that is taking it ahead of the formation. It is adjusting course now…no, spinning on its axis. Firing again!”

  “Their target?”

  Renno looked up at the Captain. “The Prax line, sir.”

  Grisa called out. “Our last attack hit the number-two Prax ship hard; split through an engine nacelle. That will had to have caused serious damage to their maneuverability, sir.”

  “Excellent. Are we in range for a round of projectiles?”

  “Yes, sir—midsize recommended.”

  “Fire midsize now. And check in with the ‘blinders’ to see that they’re on target.”

  “Fire projectiles, yessir! Directed energy stations report targeting locks on several enemy sensor nodes.”

  Heres rubbed his chin vigorously. “Assign the forward stations to the new target dead ahead of us.”

  He was still near Renno’s station. She said quietly and urgently, “That ship is helping us, sir.”

  Heres turned on her. “It’s a Prax ship and under the command
of a renegade we have orders to locate and destroy.” He pointed at the image of the mystery ship’s main engines flaring out ahead of them. “And there it is, accelerating away from us!”

  “Forward directed energy batteries report two targets isolated. Execute?” Grisa was looking over.

  “Yes, execute!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We can hit them with batteries one and two, sir,” offered Renno without enthusiasm.

  “Captain Orris on the comm, sir!”

  “Fire out of control! Lieutenant Erodan’s team one is offline!”

  Heres ordered, “Get team two over from Engineering to the crew deck and team three to back them up.”

  The ship shuddered violently as Orris’ voice boomed over the open channel. “Valor, report! Why are you accelerating?”

  Heres replied, “Taking the lead position, sir. I have orders to track that ship out in front of you.”

  “Orders from whom?”

  “Mars Command directly. That’s what we were doing in the Luyten system.”

  “We don’t have time for this, Captain! My bridge just got annihilated by the Prax flotilla. I am countermanding any existing orders you have under section 32 of the—.”

  “Acknowledged. Heres out.”

  “Should I slow us down?” asked Renno after thirty seconds of frustrated silence by Heres.

  He exhaled. “Keep us ahead of Argon and ready to accelerate the moment we can. Grisa!”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Go down and look over the fire damage and report back. Find Lieutenant Erodan.”

  “Going now, sir.”

  “Two Prax ships are boxing Usar in, sir!” Renno wiped a bead of dripping sweat from her brow as Heres watched. It was getting warmer on the bridge. Ventilation must be knocked out from the fire… “They’re concentrating fire!”

  “Reposition us to bring all batteries to bear. Fire everything the moment you’re locked. Target the most active Prax ship hitting Usar.”

  “Yes, sir. Argon just hit the lead ship hard; the Serapis looks to have stopped it in space with their last salvo. Nice shooting both!”

  “Serapis,” Heres muttered in a low breath. “What’s a ‘Serapis’ anyway?”

  The ship once again made that sidewise shudder as the big projectiles were expelled from their guns. Then it gave a larger lurch and gravity went out momentarily. Heres was half-in his seat and managed to grab the restraint. Almost as quickly, gravity came back.

  “That was a hit, sir!” called a tech. “Aft C deck near the shuttle bay. Compartment isn’t answering my call, sir.”

  “All right, get me a report from the first crew that arrive there. Are those batteries still online?” He looked over.

  The man checked, then nodded. “After batteries report ready to fire.”

  Heres noticed when he turned back that Renno was sweating profusely now. So was the Pilot. They all were. “Get environmental control back in line.” He glanced up at the screen to see the tail end of the Serapis pulling away from them. “You go, Halloran,” he muttered to himself. “We’ll catch up when we can.”

  Chapter 28

  Aboard USS Serapis

  In Engineering, Trigg Wyatt huddled with Machinists Mate Bruce Brown in their seats before the master control console. Lieutenant Travers was across the equipment bank from them. Mark Hummel made his way carefully between their area and the back of the compartment where Jack Stacey was watching his reactor panels. The ship’s heart was only a few short bulkheads away to the aft, thankfully shielded against the gamma radiation filling the main reactor chamber. The hum was pervasive and dulling to the senses.

  Hummel paused by Stacey, hanging on a grab bar designed for that purpose. “Seeing what you need to see, Jack?”

  The other man glanced over. “Yessir, Lieutenant. I think I’ve got this.” He looked around his station of gauges and monitors appraisingly. “Really, it’s not all that different than riding shotgun on the S9G kettle in Bonny Rich.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Except that only pumped out one-fifty megawatts; this thing is ten times that output…then of course there’s the gamma radiation.”

  Hummel nodded in the direction of the reactor compartment. “Definitely don’t want to be back there right now.”

  “Don’t want any of that bad stuff up here, either, sir.”

  “Well, we’re in the middle of the action now, so keep on your toes until we hear different.” Hummel turned away from Stacey and made his way back to the main area.

  Wyatt looked up at him as he approached. “Looking good, sir.”

  Hummel nodded in acknowledgment, the stress showing on his face.

  Five long minutes of silence later, Travers stopped monitoring his instruments. “What is the tension in the air?”

  Hummel put both hands on the console and just looked at him.

  Travers tried Wyatt. “What is it?”

  Wyatt slid his eyes to Brown before leaning in. “It’s bad luck,” he answered at last. As quietly as he could.

  “What is? What’s luck?”

  Wyatt looked at Hummel with a raised forehead. You tell him, you’re closer, sir.

  Hummel edged closer to the Fleet officer. “So you’re at eight hundred meters and you’ve been pinged. Active sonar. They’ve got you dead to rights. The skipper has us on silent running, pulling the plug to drop to fifteen hundred. Then the techs pick up splashes as the torps hit the water.”

  “So the enemy has targeted you and sending guided munitions. Your shields…”

  “Ain’t no shields in the ocean, Lieutenant,” added Wyatt. “You have to outrun them; change depth, launch countermeasures that distract their targeting computer with noise. And mostly pray.”

  Hummel nodded. “It’s the guys in the nuke gang that have it the worst; they’re plugging away at their posts, just meters away from the reactor. No facts, no updates from the conn. They just keep quiet and do their jobs until the torp hits or they get out alive.”

  Travers’ serious face showed his processing of the narrative. At length he nodded. “I understand.”

  Brown finally spoke up. “Stop talking, please. Bad luck.”

  Missile Techs Karen Flagler and Bob Cochran, on the other hand, were anything but quiet. They pounded along the starboard passage from Battery A toward Battery B. On their heels was the Tavarran, Anders.

  “You take the relay panel by the hatch, Bob. I’ll try the subpanel that’s set along the gun itself!”

  “Does this happen often?” called Anders from behind the two.

  “Heck if I know, boss,” said Flagler. “This is only our second engagement with these things, and last time we got our butt kicked ASAP.”

  They reached a lift to the upper deck but instead popped down the hatch leading to the inter-deck ladder. Anders looked longingly at the closed lift door.

  “Don’t bother, they’re down too.”

  “Down?”

  “Broken,” clarified Flager as she waved Cochran up the ladder. “Non-functional.”

  “Hmm. Both the lift and the projectile battery are non-functional?”

  Flagler pointed up the shaft where Cochran’s boots were receding. “You next.”

  She came up behind Anders. The decks were separated by five or so meters of layered electronic conduits, structural components and general bundles of wiring and piping leading somewhere. Cochran popped the hatch on B Deck and clambered up, waiting for the other two to join him.

  Flagler dropped the hatch and stepped on the lock mechanism, sealing the tunnel. “This way.”

  Anders followed them up an ever-tightening corridor that grew shorter until they were running fully bent double. At last Flagler stopped at an oval hatch and worked the manual release.

  Anders touched the opening hatch. “Hmm.”

  Cochran caught his sound. “What?”

  Anders looked at him, face yellow-tinted in the overhead amber lighting. “Lift, locking mechs, electromag guns all out.”


  “Get in here, Cochran!”

  “Let’s go.”

  Inside the two ship’s crew went to work attacking their respective panels. It didn’t take long for Flagler to report. “My tester is calling this box clean.”

  Cochran was frowning over his own test. “This one, too.”

  She huffed for breath—the run had taken it out of her—and put her hands on her hips with a curse. “I don’t friggin’ know, Bob. What is it?”

  “We’ve checked the mains as soon as the panel went green—stupid Prax colorations. The computer says the short is on B deck weapons.” He pocketed his tester. “Got me, Karen.”

  “Skipper needs to know we can’t find the issue.” She headed for the comm unit mounted by the hatch.

  Anders had his hand on the huge gun barrel. “I have an idea.”

  Flagler paused with her hand on the comm panel. “Shoot.” The Tavarran had both their attention.

  “Well, on Tavar in the mines my family used heavy electromag drilling units.” He patted the gun. “Not much smaller than this thing. When it shorted it threw fuses for half a kilometer in every direction.”

  Cochran said, “But Flagler checked the gun’s relay; it looks nominal.”

  Anders stomped his foot. “Our drilling unit had a subpanel, too; but that was a slave to the control panel, which was located directly below it in the housing.”

  Flagler looked dubious. “But this is an alien spaceship.”

  But Cochran had shoved Anders’ boot out of the way and was on his knees, feeling around the base of the gun for something to lift. “Call it in, Karen!” He spared Anders a glance. “Get down here, will ya? I sure hope you got this right.”

  Djembe was manning the comm on the bridge as Halloran, Kendra and Antonov conferred by the Command station. He took Flagler’s report and half-turned. “Captain.”

  “Yes, Pilot?” Halloran broke from the trio and looked his way.

  “Weapons team reports that the electrical short is still there in the system, and that the B Deck Starboard projectile battery is offline, but they may have a solution. Sir,” he added as he turned back to flying the ship.