“They’re still showing no sign of involving themselves in the engagement. But that’s not all, sir. There’s also a battle group of eleven UHF-era warships holding orbit over Imbros, with dozens of civilian ships trailing behind. Some of the nonmilitary vessels look newer, though their profiles don’t match anything I’ve seen before. There’s also a ship with them, almost certainly a warship, which resembles those of the enormous alien fleet.”
Husher puzzled over that for a few moments—then, the answer fell into place in his mind. “Darkstream,” he said, his voice coming out as a low growl. He had no idea why the alien ship was holding formation with them, but who else would have so many UHF ships from the same era? “Eleven was the number of ships they stole from us before they fled the galaxy.” But what are they doing here, orbiting Imbros like it’s the most natural thing in the world?
As the Vesta approached missile range with the Progenitor battle group, Husher turned his attention to the actual engagement. No surprises there, at least. There were nine enemy ships being engaged by five Fleet ships, with debris clouds to account for the missing two. Except—
“What’s being represented by the tactical display, there?” Husher said, gesturing at the CIC’s main display. He’d already paired his Oculenses with Winterton’s, so he knew the sensor operator was looking at the same thing as him. “Those seven blips, almost too small to make out.”
Frowning in concentration, Winterton tapped at his console. “Those…those appear to be seven bipedal robots, sir.” Winterton looked up, and for the first time Husher could remember, the man looked a little helpless. “They’re aiding our ships in fighting the enemy.”
If Winterton can’t properly account for what he’s seeing, then I probably shouldn’t try. “Very well,” Husher said, nodding and then clearing his throat. “Let’s move to back them up, then. Helm, engines all ahead. Nav, I want you to collaborate with Tremaine on an approach vector and deceleration profile that allows us to maximize kinetic impactors, which I want sprayed at the enemy ships at optimal intervals.”
“Aye, sir,” said Chief Noni. She was a Tumbran, and his new primary Nav officer, following Kaboh’s resignation.
Ensign Fry spoke up. “Sir, I’m getting a transmission request from one of the enemy destroyers.”
“Accept, and put it on the display with open access to all.” Husher knew who it was, even before Teth’s hideous face appeared, with its bare bones protruding through cracked, whitened scales. So I was right.
“Captain Husher,” the Ixan hissed. “Right on time.”
Husher’s mouth quirked. Teth had a sharp tongue, and letting his crew in on whatever bile the Ixan had to spew was risky, from a morale perspective. But to take the transmission in his office, or even to take it privately—so that only he could hear Teth’s words—would have reeked of weakness, and no captain could afford to let his crew think him weak.
Maybe I can beat him at his own game. “Teth. I see you’ve acquired a new ship. It looks a lot like the last one I blew out from under you.”
For once, the Ixan had no response, and though his expression didn’t change, Husher knew he’d struck a nerve. According to Teth himself, that ship had held the last of the Ixa. Now, other than Ochrim, Teth was the last of his kind.
“I want to thank you for coming to Hellebore today,” Husher continued. “The Union’s been reluctant to go to war, and this attack is exactly what was needed to convince them.”
Teth’s forked tongue made a brief appearance between pointed teeth. “What, this skirmish?” he said. “This is psyops more than anything else. I barely have to fight this war, Captain Husher. I have complete confidence that you are going to win it for me.”
Husher shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
But Teth had already vanished from the display.
“Not one of his best speeches,” Husher said, which brought a round of chuckles, although he heard a nervous edge in the laughter. Moving on. “Tactical and Nav, how are those firing timings coming along?”
“We’re ready to lock them in, sir,” Tremaine said. “We have the first salvo timed just before deceleration, to take full advantage of our current acceleration.”
Chief Noni nodded. “We’ve also introduced a slight curve into our trajectory, to ensure no impactors hit our allies.”
“Good work.”
“Sir, the UHF ships near the planet appear to be coming online,” Winterton said. “Shuttles have been coming and going from them ever since we entered the system, and now heat signatures suggest engines being started up—yes, a corvette just broke formation with the others.”
“Is she headed toward the engagement?”
“Negative. She’s heading…uh, nowhere. There are no meaningful destinations along her trajectory. It’s possible they plan to circle around the engagement and make for the darkgate.”
They’re fleeing. “Coms, send them a transmission to the effect that we could use their help, over here. I don’t like the idea of teaming up with Darkstream, but I like the idea of losing to the Progenitors even less.”
The moment he finished speaking, Winterton said, “One of the Progenitor carriers just disappeared, sir.”
“Acknowledged. I want active scans of our immediate vicinity. Tactical, ready Banshee salvos to fire along every axis, and Fry, let Commander Ayam know he may be scrambling Pythons sooner than expected.”
Seconds later, his preparations proved unnecessary, when the carrier reappeared—not beside the Vesta, but right behind the old UHF-model ship attempting to flee. The carrier vomited forth a cloud of its savage robots, and though the corvette did its best to shoot them down, there were far too many.
Sailing past the corvette’s point defense turrets, the metal attackers lighted on her hull, burrowing inside her in dozens of places. The carrier vanished, then, reappearing back near the engagement, its dark work done.
Long, tense minutes ticked by as Husher and his officers watched a zoomed-in view of the corvette. Then, she ruptured, expelling gouts of flame to be instantly snuffed out by the void.
Chapter 6
The IGS Mylas
“Firing opening salvo of kinetic impactors,” Tremaine said.
Husher nodded, watching the tactical display. Before the first impactors arrived, Tremaine loosed another volley.
Almost simultaneously, an IGF frigate and the sole corvette exploded under enemy particle beams. The smaller ships were much more vulnerable to the weapons—any significant superheating and their hulls would rupture.
“Coms, send a recommendation to the other IGF captains that they keep up lateral movement in relation to the enemy, to avoid presenting them with a still target.”
“Aye, sir.”
Winterton leaned toward his console, scrutinizing whatever he saw there closely. “First impactor salvo arriving now, sir.” He frowned. “The ship we had the best bead on has vanished to avoid getting hit. Other impactors are raining down on the hulls of one destroyer and two of the carriers. Hmm. We’ve succeeded in destroying a primary turret battery on the destroyer.”
Tremaine sent five more salvos at the enemy ships before the Vesta closed with them, and Winterton kept Husher updated on the success of each one. None did more than superficial damage, but that was about what he’d expected. At this range, with the enemy’s ability to simply vanish from the line of fire, kinetic impactors could only be counted on to soften up targets.
That’s better than nothing. We’ve put holes in their point defense systems for our Pythons to exploit.
“Have Commander Ayam scramble the entire Air Group, Coms. With this many Progenitor ships, we’ll need most of our fighters on missile defense duty, but tell Ayam to assign four squadrons to apply some pressure. Either the system’s defenders will throw them off enough to give us an opening or vice versa.”
“Sir, the Mylas has just transitioned into Hellebore with all four of her battle group ships in tow,” his sensor operator sa
id.
Husher nodded. “Welcome news, but we won’t be able to count on their help for over an hour. In the meantime, we need to do some damage.”
With just the Vesta and six of the system’s defender ships remaining, they were still outgunned by the nine Progenitor ships, and the strange alien fleet still showed no sign of moving to help either side. Still, Husher believed in his Air Group, and he believed in the Vesta. The sheer might brought to bear by one capital starship simply couldn’t be discounted, and if they could hold on until the second one arrived…
This is far from over.
He briefly considered reaching out to the hundreds of alien ships in distant heliocentric orbits, but quickly decided against it. Even he could see that doing so would be stepping well outside his bounds as a Fleet captain. Negotiating with a foreign power, especially one of that size, would be tricky business under the best of circumstances. But sitting down to the negotiating table with a foreign power that had just saved you from military disaster…it wasn’t what Husher would call an enviable position.
“The enemy battle group has started taking us seriously, sir,” Winterton said. “They’re directing most of their robot-missiles at us, now.”
“As expected. Tremaine, stand by to fire Banshees at any missiles that make it past our Pythons. Whenever you can, try to neutralize them near the maximum range of our point defense turrets, to avoid any wasteful overlap.”
“Aye, sir.”
“That’s not all. Sneak some Gorgons into the mix—say, one for every ten Banshees fired. I want the Gorgons programmed to make their way at a leisurely pace toward the nearest ships: split them evenly three ways between the nearby destroyer and the carriers lingering off her stern.”
“I will, Captain.”
“Forward the Gorgon’s telemetry to our Air Group, but tell them not to make it too obvious that they’re making way for stealth missiles.”
Husher took several long breaths as he monitored the tactical display to see how his gambit would play out. The Darkstream ships in orbit over Imbros were still peeling away, one by one, on trajectories that took them essentially nowhere, but which left room to loop around the Mylas’ battle group and slip through the darkgate.
The Progenitors didn’t appear to want that. The first Darkstream ship in line was a missile cruiser, and when it neared the debris cloud that had once been the corvette, the same Progenitor carrier disappeared, showing up right behind the cruiser and overwhelming it with an even bigger cloud of the robotic killers.
Another IGF frigate went down—and then something surprising happened. One of the enemy destroyers ruptured in a brilliant flash that reminded Husher of watching Teth’s destroyer go down over Klaxon’s moon.
“What caused that?” he asked.
“It would seem the seven bipedal robots managed to neutralize the enemy ship, sir,” Winterton said. “With minimal aid from IGF vessels.”
“Show me a visual closeup of those things.”
Winterton did. The CIC’s main display zoomed in to show the seven robots flying through space in formation, toward the nearest carrier. One of them was much bigger than the other six, and while the others had a human aesthetic, with their sleek contours and recognizable weaponry, the big one seemed totally alien.
The carrier they were headed toward answered the robots’ approach with a torrent of metal devils, and Husher watched as the alien robot shifted, its arms becoming spinning blades that shredded any missile-bots they came into contact with. Several missiles made it past the hulking biped, prompting an explosion of shrapnel to burst from its back, which took down multiple targets at once with precision accuracy.
“I see,” Husher said.
Winterton spoke up again. “Sir, three of the six Gorgons fired were detected, but the other three detonated—one on the port aft side of Teth’s destroyer, and the other two on the closest carrier. Those two struck together, blowing a sizable hole in the enemy’s hull.”
“Acknowledged. Tremaine, fire our primary laser at that hole, now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Husher watched on the tactical display as Tremaine dumped energy into the damaged ship—until, after several tense moments, it exploded, flinging shrapnel and flame in all directions and forcing some of the Vesta’s Pythons to peel away on evasion courses.
Cheering erupted inside the CIC—a rare sound in this war, so far. Husher let it play out for a few seconds until saying, “All right, people, we’re not done yet. Tremaine, it’s time to start—”
“Sir,” Winterton said, so low he was almost whispering, but it was enough to make Husher break off.
“Yes?”
“All six enemy ships just vanished.”
Slowly, Husher shook his head. “Have they retreated?” The engagement was far from over, and until the second capital starship arrived, he would have said the Progenitors still had the advantage.
“They—sir, the six ships just appeared behind the Mylas and her battle group. The IGF ships are coming about, but the enemy’s already firing.”
Husher toggled to a close-in visual display of the engagement, the knuckles of his other hand white from his death-grip on the command seat’s armrest. The point defense systems of the IGF ships were working overtime, and their captains had already ordered that secondary lasers be used to supplement.
It wasn’t clear that would be enough. “Nav, set a course for the Mylas, and Coms, send a request that the Hellebore system defense group follow us.”
He knew the order was pointless—the Mylas and her battle group were much too far for the Vesta to reach them in time to make a difference. But he had to do something. The Progenitor ships were filling the battlespace with their robots, and the defending ships had already expended a significant portion of their arsenal keeping them at bay.
Next, particle beams lanced out from the enemy warships, heedless of the robots they caught in their beams. The robots melted, and so did the IGF hulls. A frigate went down first, followed by a corvette. Next, the destroyer and missile cruiser were neutralized in almost simultaneous explosions.
Total silence took hold in Husher’s CIC, as they all held their breath, waiting to see whether the silent death being dealt would claim the Mylas.
Though he knew better, Husher felt a quiet confidence spread through him. There’s no way they’re taking down a capital starship. The Mylas will hold on till we reach her, and then we’ll show them exactly what they’re dealing with.
When the supercarrier ruptured in a blinding flash, at first Husher didn’t know how to process it. Neither, it seemed, did his CIC crew—they all maintained their postures, mostly leaning forward and gripping their armrests.
“A capital starship,” Noni said, breathless. “They just destroyed a capital starship.”
No one else spoke, not even Husher, though he knew he had to say something, to try and salvage morale from the abyss it was tumbling into.
But there was nothing to say.
Chapter 7
Snapped in Two
At last, Husher did the only thing he could do, the only thing he knew how to do:
He acted.
“Tremaine, coordinate with Nav to come up with a formation that places the other IGF ships far enough away to disperse enemy fire but close enough that we can help each other out with missile defense. Send that formation to Coms for forwarding as an urgent recommendation to the other captains.” He couldn’t actually give them orders, but he’d be very surprised if any of them defied him in this. “Add in a reminder to stand ready to use lateral thrusters for particle beam evasion at a moment’s notice.” He swallowed. “They should also be prepared to fall back as needed, to buy time to deal with enemy ordnance—but do so judiciously. The Progenitor ships could just as easily appear behind us.”
The Mylas’ entire Air Group had been taken out in one fell swoop. At least that wouldn’t happen to Commander Ayam’s fliers, since they were already deployed. That should grant Husher
the needed versatility to respond to enemy maneuvers quickly, even if the Progenitors appeared just off his stern.
Husher watched the tactical display, hating the silence that continued to reign over his CIC as the Progenitor ships crept closer across the battlespace. The silence was no different than any other time he wasn’t in the middle of giving orders or coordinating with his officers—except, it was vastly different, wasn’t it? A capital starship had fallen. Even Husher, who’d given voice to the probability of this happening once the Ixa’s creators returned, was having difficulty processing the reality of it.
The capital starships formed the backbone of the Integrated Galactic Fleet, and it felt like that backbone had just been snapped in two.
“Sir,” Winterton said. “The alien fleet is in motion.”
Husher called up an expanded tactical display, one that showed the entire system. There, at Hellebore’s periphery, he watched dozens of alien ships breaking formation at a time, to become a great wave bending away from their previous heliocentric orbit—toward the Vesta and the ships around her.
Idly, he toggled to a visual display, zooming in on one of the ships as far as the sensor could go. At this vast remove, the image was blurry. All Husher could see was a tapered ovoid, thinner at the fore than at the aft, and royal purple in color.
“What should we do, sir?” Noni asked.
“Absolutely nothing. The Vesta may have the legs to make her way around the Progenitor ships to escape through the darkgate, but the other IGF ships don’t. And we’re far too deep inside the system for any of us to go to warp. We’re not going to leave the other IGF crews to die.” Besides, public morale is going to be bad enough after losing a capital starship.
“Should we prepare to engage the approaching fleet?”
“Negative. We don’t have a prayer against so many ships. We’re going to stick with our current line of action, and we’re not going to try to influence something we have no control over.”
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 28