Steel-Winged Valkyrie (Lady Hellgate Book 5)

by Greg Dragon

  “They’re coming about, the stern’s visible,” Ina exclaimed excitedly, but then the dreadnought vanished from what they could view through the windows and was nowhere on radar, starmap, or simulation. Helga unlocked her restraints, stood up, and started studying the logs from the recent engagement. Surely there would be an answer there for not only the disappearance that had come without a warning, but the bullets that had struck them, resulting in the alarms that continued to blare.

  “Tactical, engineering, bridge, report. I want updates on our damage, not system readouts, mind,” Cilas growled, scanning the faces of the petrified officers chattering away on their comms. “I want to know who we lost as well as what’s being done for repairs. Helga, where did that dreadnought go?”

  “Still finding you answers, Commander,” Helga informed him. “I assumed it used energy reserves to somehow cloak, but that doesn’t make sense. We should still have some awareness of where it is, considering our system was locked onto it. The only logical explanation I can think of is an Extra-Dimensional Shift.”

  “With no prep and a ruptured hull to boot?” Ina cut in. “No way that’s what just happened. The lizards don’t have that kind of technology.”

  “Yeah, but the Louines might, and that dreadnought started out as a Louine ship,” Helga corrected her. “Look, they may be considered neutral, but there’s a reason the lizards go out of their way to savage and take prizes from their fleet.”

  “Launch a probe,” Cilas ordered, impatient with the banter and lack of answers from his leads. “Find that vessel, and in the meantime, keep batteries hot and ready to fire as soon as we locate it.”

  29

  The bridge became thick with a silence that Helga found maddening, the only chatter now coming from CIC to the rear. Communication was an unintelligible drone of hushed voices discussing strategy, their suggestions in text form, littering hers and Cilas’s wrist-comms, too many to keep up with.

  Commander Cilas Mec, a newly minted captain with his first command over an actual crew, not just the Nighthawks, faced a dilemma that no simulation could have anticipated. A vanishing ship capable of dishing out as much as it could take, armed with cannons firing payload that shredded energy shields like a blade through paper. Technology he and his officers weren’t familiar with.

  The probes were launched, and Ina Reysor put what little energy reserves were left into the shields. Helga sat silently staring through the glass at the empty space before them, where she felt the dreadnought remained cloaked, keeping enough thrust to avoid detection from the Ursula's system. The cylindrical probe darted about, then a second was deployed to help canvas the 4km area about the Ursula. On the bridge and off, the crew did as they were ordered and kept their discipline.

  “Let us recap what just happened,” Helga said, while still staring out into the blackness. “If we were at the helm of that dreadnought and we saw Ursula and tagged her as an Alliance ship, what would make us close instead of running? We split them on first salvo, so they should have known they were outclassed before they engaged.”

  “In a ship of that mass?” Ina mused. “Good question. You would think they had a death wish. If this were a fighter, well, you know the strategy. A basic heart-check maneuver for rattling newbies, frightening the target into doing something foolish, like coming about in attempt to give chase.”

  “Clip close and cloak,” Helga recited. “Yeah, basic schtill, but a ship of that mass? That’s just insane.”

  “Perhaps they were desperate. We showed up on their radar, and them being crippled already thought they could rattle us into evasive maneuvers, giving them enough time to get away. Helga, you’re the one that’s been out here, sparring with them, while I was happy transporting cargo in my retirement. This is beyond anything I’ve personally seen. What are your thinking? Is this a new tactic for the lizards?”

  “No, but that is one reckless captain,” Helga said. “Ursula was a scout class prior to being upgraded to the mock-infiltration assault class that she is today. Our radar should pick up vessels, even cloaked, once we’ve exchanged energy. I’m as confused as you are, Ina, but there has to be a logical explanation for this.” Helga leaned across the right arm of her chair to get the woman’s attention. “How many lizards do you think are on that dreadnought, and do you suppose those cannons are automated?”

  The red-haired Meluvian placed a gloved finger on her chin as she pondered it. “Similar mass, Louine construction. If I were to wager a guess, I would say no more than a hundred crewmembers. I don’t know much about the Geralos power structure, but I do know they tend to pack loose to make room for their captures. The cannons … judging from their action during that fight. I am prone to believe they’re automated. The tactician chooses the target, and they do the rest, just like our Zan.” She turned to wink appreciatively at the Cel-toc, who was still facing forward, staring out into space.

  “Those guns that ruptured our hull, I am going to call them shredders for now until we learn what they are, exactly,” Helga said. “I agree those weren’t automated, but if they were all we had to contend with and not the other thirty-odd cannons, we could overpower it, couldn’t we? Since shields would be worthless, we could shunt all our power into a tracer, then split the cruta in half with one swipe.”

  “What are you thinking?” Ina asked her directly.

  “When we find it, and we’re back swapping energy with our shields doing naught, if we could knock some of those cannons offline, we could do like I said before and transfer energy from our shields to weapons, trace the engine and watch the fireworks go off within its core. I’m telling you, Ina, it would be as simple as that. Her shields have failed, and with cloak applied they can’t charge, but I know Cilas wouldn’t agree to it unless the cannons were powered down, and I have an idea to do just that.”

  Ina studied her face for a time, looking for a punchline that wasn’t coming, then averted her gaze for a second before facing her again. “You’re thinking one of us plays decoy, pulling the cannons off Ursula, and while that happens, we power everything down and hit it with all we’ve got?”

  “Bingo,” Helga whispered. “If I can get close with my fighter and make a bit of noise, the system will be forced to go into self-defense mode to try and stop me.”

  “A fighter? Why would it bother?” Ina wondered. “The most you can do is damage some of its hull, but not enough to distract it from Ursula. And if the captain is smart, which he’s already proven, he will know that ridding you of a ship to return to means that your tiny pin pricks are worth ignoring.”

  “You would be right if I was to act like a rook and jump out there to fire at its hull, but if I get close, I can pull off at minimum three passes, putting everything on those energy cannons and a few will go offline,” Helga explained, using her left hand to manipulate the hologram to show Ina what she meant. “Launch out, circle back wide and come in near the stern, skimming the shields close.”

  “Lieutenant, are you really considering that?” Ina’s face had changed color, reminding her of Dr. Cleia Rai’to, who would flush different hues of blue depending on her moods. Ina’s skin however had lost a shade of color, and though her face showed no emotion, her eyes had gone wide.

  “Lieutenant Ate’s skill with vessels is rated superb, Lieutenant Reysor,” Zan chipped in, deadpan, her eyes still focused out through the viewport to a region of space. “Her suggested tactic, though considered reckless, has a high probability of succeeding, should she survive leaving our hanger to approach the enemy ship.”

  Ina sat back heavily and exhaled while running both hands through her hair. “And we barely just reunited, you and I. Now you want to run off and get yourself killed. I don’t like the idea, Helga. You’re first officer. The commander couldn’t accept it, even if he wanted to,” she said.

  “You’re right, he won’t,” Helga admitted. “But if it comes back, uncloaks, whatever, and we’re looking ready to lose it all, I am
going to get inside that Classic, and I am asking you to back me up.”

  “Back you up, how?”

  “The same way Zan just did, by reinforcing confidence in my ability. Cilas knows what I can do, he doesn’t stop me, and I’ve done crazier schtill, trust me. He would be in agreement with Zan. The lieutenant and first mate thing, Ina… I honestly hope that when it comes to making a decision as to whether it be me or everyone else on this ship, our commander makes the right decision and sets me free.”

  Ina took a long moment, hands clutching tufts of hair as she stared up at Ursula’s overhead, while beyond her Zan continued communicating with the system. After what felt like a minute, her shoulders relaxed, and she turned to face Helga, her face a mask of gravity. The Nighthawk could imagine her in that instance as an icy captain at the helm of her own ship. The friendly pilot was replaced by the seasoned lieutenant who had taken time to ponder her reckless suggestion.

  “I apologize,” she said, surprising Helga. “I forget myself because everything about Ursula has been so refreshingly casual. The way you and the commander behave, it is easy to forget that you’re Extraplanetary Spatial Operators. I will have your back when the time comes. It’s the least I owe you for everything. Die and it will break me though, Helga Ate, and I won’t be the only one. I’ve seen and heard enough to know how much everyone here adores you.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the paradox of ESO life, isn’t it?” Helga commented. “Our good times are really good, and I wouldn’t trade the galaxy for them, but I signed up for this knowing the risks. Death is a possibility always, but the reason I’m out here is because I can take these risks and have a good shot of surviving. Thank you, Ina. With you and Zan backing me up, Cilas will be forced to consider it rather than shutting it completely down when I suggest it. Now, let’s find this thyping thing.”

  “Captain,” came the husky voice of Chief Engineer Alon Weinstar. The tall cyborg had just come onto the bridge looking more miserable than normal, which for him was such a feat it revealed his injury. Helga got up from her seat and walked up the angled deck to where Cilas was standing, eagerly anticipating Weinstar’s update.

  Together the three of them met before the large orb-shaped starmap, which was a globular mass of lights representing the Genesian system and ships within it. Already present was the Marine, Master Sergeant Gideon Rue—a muscled, soft-spoken man—and the clutch of officers from the tactical group who had been pitching potential strategies and outcomes to their channel.

  Weinstar was hunched over, breathing heavily, gripping an emergency handhold to hold himself steady. A young midshipman hurried to help him, and Helga—after a second of hesitation with seeing the older man look so feeble—moved to lend him a helping hand. Weinstar politely bade them to stop by raising one large mechanical hand. He paused to suck in some energy, wincing as he stared up for a moment at the overhead, whose hexagonal shape mirrored the deck.

  “Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant, but time is of the essence, and I am okay. There was damage done to the engine, but repairs are underway to stabilize our thrusters. Ursula put blast shields about the section of engineering that lost atmosphere, but we haven’t been crippled or stalled, maker save us. However, evasive maneuvers at this time would prove a challenge.” He said this while directly looking at Helga. “We are effectively without a rudder for a while.”

  Voices became loud from the stations about them, a melody of panic, affirmations, and bravado that forced Helga to turn and glare at them, though the desired effect took longer than she wished. Weinstar continued, “We found some shrapnel from one of the rounds, and are analyzing to see how it managed to slip past our shields. Lieutenant.” He turned to Helga, his eyes pleading. “We need time to repair and see to the injured. Right now, our priority is on the engines but there's still the access to the galley, medbay, and stores that have been cut off to isolate the rupture.” His eyes shifted to Cilas. “We’re working as fast as we can, Captain, but I fear—”

  “Thank you, Cheng,” Cilas cut him off quickly, knowing he was about to speak negatively about their situation, thinking it to be important facts. “As soon as we’re clear, have Dr. Rai’to look at your injury. Did we lose anyone?”

  “Still inconclusive, Captain, but my three engineers were accounted for before I made my way here,” Weinstar responded, so low that Helga could barely hear.

  “It’s back,” someone shouted, and everyone sprang into action, rushing back to their stations.

  Helga walked with Cilas back to the center of the bridge, where he finally took a seat and pulled his restraints before sneaking her a wink. “We’ll get through this yet,” he told her confidently, “Though much of it relies on you, Zan and Ina. Whatever it takes, let’s get that thing.” Saluting with a bow of acknowledgment for the charge she had been given, Helga practically sprinted down the decline to the open cockpit.

  The dreadnought was visible through the viewports, moving away using reverse thrust to present their bow to Ursula where it couldn’t easily trace its most vulnerable areas. On the tactical terminal she saw that its cannons were back online and already firing, whittling down their shields. She counted twenty kinetic blasters, arranged in a V-shape on the dreadnought’s belly, with the point being below her nose, the rest running along her narrow, aerodynamic hull.

  What struck Helga as odd, however, wasn’t how well armed she was—though for a dreadnought she would admit to it being intimidating—but how she was armed precisely. This broken example of Louine technology had an assortment of extra batteries near her bridge. “I believe I found our weapon.” She transferred the diagram of the dreadnought over to the central holo-display where Ina could see. “I don’t know how they’re doing it, but those aren’t energy cannons.”

  “Never seen the like,” Ina said. “I’m prone to agree. Our rudder is thyped, so we’re going to have to get creative with avoiding those guns while powering our shields.”

  Helga got up and walked over to where Zan was seated and leaned past her to point at the image of the warship. “Put our tracers on those cannons, Zan. Disable them all then focus everything on the bridge. They will be forced to flee, at which point we’ll prime a torpedo, knock out FTL and then reduce her to debris.”

  Zan complied, sweetly, as was her way. Cel-toc androids had the luxury of appearing human without the weaknesses in battle of worry and fear. She merely looked up at the lieutenant, who had always treated her like a person, smiled confidently as she confirmed. Ina applied some thrust and accelerating towards the tilting dreadnought, who appeared to be looking for an exit while its pursuer traced the first of the four firing batteries.

  Another alarm went off from the bullets getting past the shields again, this time placing massive dents into the armor protecting the stern. That wasn’t random, Helga thought. Whoever is on that ship knows all of the critical points to strike on our ship. Touching her wrist-comms and turning to leave the bridge to find the lift that would take her down to the dock, she took a measuring breath before contacting Cilas on a private channel.

  She knew that he was at his limit. He had been in command most of his career, but that was on ground assaults and reconnaissance, not delegating action out to spacers managing a corvette. From the time they learned Ursula would be theirs, this had bothered her, but she believed with enough small victories his seasoning would come, and he would take full command of everything. Duty, however, had not given them time to grow into a proper crew of Ursula’s. They were still Nighthawks who happened to own their own ship.

  Now they were here, facing off against a Geralos captain who felt emboldened enough to rush them. Cloak and cannon tricks aside, he had employed standard tactics a wartime spacer would have seen plenty of times, but Cilas’s greenness in this area was evident, and now they were all a bad decision away from dying. Shutting her eyes against reluctance, she reached up to her ear and opened a private channel.

  “Commander, this
is Ate. I have a suggestion and you’re not going to like it, but please hear me out.”

  She told him of her plan to launch the Classic and distract the dreadnought while they armed a fully charged torpedo to shut its FTL down. To her surprise, Cilas listened silently, no interruptions, no “are you crazy,” just silence while she ran through everything she’d discussed with Ina. When she finished, he was still silent, and she had to confirm that he was still there, by pointedly asking.

  Another alarm went off from the cannons having struck the rudder again, and now even if they wanted to try and run, it would be a problematic maneuver that could end with them losing everything for momentum, most importantly the FTL.

  “Thype it, go,” Cilas commanded. “Just do as you’ve always done and go at it with everything you’ve got. But if I tell you to pull off ,Helga, it will be an order. Tell me you understand.”

  “I do, and I will, Commander … Cilas. You know I can do this, and we’re not in a spot with time to consider alternatives,” she reminded him. Feeling the weight of her words and his silence in that moment, she did as she always did and joked, the words coming out before she could reconsider them. “If I don’t make it, let Fio know she can have my compartment.”

  “If you don’t make it, I will find and destroy the planet Geral by myself,” Cilas swore, without any hint of humor in his voice.

  “Then the lizards better hope we win,” she said, smiling to herself, touched by the sentiment no matter how ridiculous it was in reality. Cilas was a man capable of anything he set his mind to, and that she had known since she met him. Destroying a planet, though, that goal set the line of extreme when it came to promises. It was his way of telling her he cared for her, and she knew it, and to make one more trip with that in her heart, she couldn’t think of a greater motivation.