“We have to go, Atta,” Destra decided.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“We’re going to find your father.” Destra stood up from the couch where they were sitting and dragged Atta along by her hand, heading for the door.
“I don’t want to go!” Atta screamed.
“We don’t have a choice, Atta!”
Destra winced as she experienced a sudden flash of déjà vu to a time not so long ago when she had been running away with Atton under similar circumstances. Back then she hadn’t been able to run to Ethan for help, but right now she did have Hoff, and it was time for him to know that his family was still on board.
If nothing else, at least they would all be together when they died.
Chapter 31
“They’re not on board, Admiral!” When Hoff heard that warning come through his comm piece, he felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. After a long moment, he replied, “What do you mean they’re not on board?” but only static answered. The warning had come from his clone, but the Last Chance had abruptly broken contact. Hoff wasn’t sure if they weren’t answering because of a struggle on board the ship, or because his clone was afraid their conversation would be overheard and their secret discovered.
They’re not on board. Those words echoed ominously through his thoughts, and suddenly he was afraid. Here he was, taking the Tauron on a suicidal mission through enemy lines, thinking that at least his family was safely away aboard his corvette, but not only had the Last Chance followed the Tauron on its suicidal flight path—it didn’t even have his family on board!
Hoff shook his head and looked up at the blinding flurry of explosions rippling across the Tauron’s hull. Everything Hoff knew and loved was about to be destroyed. Abruptly Atta appeared in his mind’s eye. Her gray eyes, dark hair, and impishly smiling face made his throat ache, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Atta.
He’d made copies of her and Destra on Fortress Station, but somehow that did nothing to ease his mind. They would live on—months from now his whole family, including him would spring up like perennial flowers, coming out of stasis aboard Fortress Station, but would it really be them? Or would his little girl and his wife really die here with him today?
When it had just been him cloning himself, it had been easier to believe that clones and recorded memories were enough to cheat death, but now that he had to trust that system to preserve his loved ones, too . . . the answers didn’t seem so clear.
“Shields down to 47%!” engineering reported as the deck shuddered violently underfoot. The muffled boom of that explosion told Hoff the damage was worse this time. “Hull breaches on decks four and five!”
“Seal it off!” Hoff ordered, snapping out of his reverie. Maybe if they crippled the Sythian command ship, the Gors would stop firing on them. Tova was ambivalent about that, but it was their only chance, and the only chance Dark Space had, too.
“Comms, tell Inferno Squadron to keep those shell fighters distracted! We can’t survive this kind of punishment for long—Tova!” Hoff turned to her. She and Roan still stood under guard on the bridge. “Can’t you tell them to miss every now and then? If we never get a chance at that command ship, your people stay in slavery.”
“I try,” she said, closing her eyes. Hoff watched the alien’s lips move, but he heard no sound escape, as if she were saying a prayer to some Gor deity.
Hoff turned back to his crew. “Gravidar! Where are those updated coordinates I asked for?”
“Coming now, sir . . .”
Hoff saw the coordinates for the estimated location of the Sythian command ship change position on the captain’s table. That point had been drifting more or less toward them at a constant 200 meters per second, while still keeping its distance from the overall battle, just as Hoff would expect from a cloaked command ship. He’d told the officer at the helm to keep their distance and not fly directly toward it, just in case the Sythians became suspicious of his new heading. Assuming the coordinates they’d pinpointed actually represented the cloaked Sythian command ship, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let them know they’d been discovered.
Almost there, Hoff thought, watching as their range to target dropped to 45 klicks. The timing would be critical. Their only chance was to hit that cloaked ship hard, before it dropped its cloaking shield and put up real defensive shields. But even then, the alien command ship’s armor had to be very strong. How do you destroy a 30 kilometer-long warship with one that’s just a hundredth of the size? Hoff wondered.
Not only was he gambling everything on the chance that they’d actually found one of the Sythians’ elusive behemoth-class cruisers, but he was gambling that they could do some serious damage to it, too.
Hoff turned to his comms officer. “Send a message to all our ships—including the Interloper. On our mark they are to fire everything they’ve got at the coordinates we send them.”
“Yes, sir.”
The next thing anyone heard over the muted sounds of battle was the swish of the bridge doors opening. Hoff turned to look and saw a pair of sentinels stride in. Someone else walked in behind them, but Hoff couldn’t see past the sentinels’ bulky armor. Then they peeled away to guard either side of the entrance, and Hoff saw who had come in with them.
“Daddy!” Atta cried.
“Shhh,” Destra said, holding their daughter back as her gaze found Tova and Roan in their swaddling white robes.
Another boom shook the deck, and the bright flash of a nearby explosion lit up the bridge. Now, seeing his family, and knowing the odds they all faced, Hoff was confronted with a much more visceral reminder of what he risked losing; they would all die if this plan failed, or if the Gors had lied—if their calculations were off, or if they simply didn’t have enough firepower to cripple the command ship.
That was a lot of ifs. But it was too late to turn back now.
“We are in range of the target,” gravidar announced.
Hoff nodded absently, his eyes on Atta. “Transmit coordinates to the rest of our ships, and tell them to open fire on that point in exactly ten seconds.” Hoff slowly turned away from his daughter. “Weapons—stand by, and get ready to give them everything we’ve got!”
* * *
Ethan listened with half an ear to the latest transmission from the Tauron. All the admiral’s forces had just been ordered to open fire on some unknown target in exactly ten seconds. The coordinates appeared on the grid, but Ethan’s eyes refused to focus. He was too distracted by the pain radiating from the odd half a dozen different places where shrapnel had cut him. He felt very weak, and he had to fight to stay conscious, but whether that was from blood loss or something worse, he wasn’t sure. From the way the cloned admiral stared at him, he was sure he must have looked as bad as he felt.
“Atton,” the clone said. “Let me take the controls for a while.”
“That’s not going to happen, Hoff.”
“You need to see to your father.”
Ethan grimaced. “Shut up, Hoff. I’m fine.”
Atton turned to look at him, and his expression went from grim and determined to pale and uncertain. The boy hesitated a second longer, but then he nodded. “Okay.”
Ethan shook his head, trying to fight back as Atton half lifted and half carried him out of the cockpit.
“Stop struggling, Dad.”
“I told you; I’m fine.”
“Then you haven’t seen yourself. Come on, don’t be difficult.”
Barely a second later they heard the corvette’s guns firing, and Ethan turned back to the cockpit to see missiles and lasers streaking out toward some target they couldn’t see. Their view had changed from the blinding blue glow of the Tauron’s thruster banks to dark, star-speckled space, and now that they were no longer safely hidden in the battleship’s wake, missile lock alarms screeched and wailed through the cockpit speakers.
“Forget about me, Atton,” E
than said, shaking his head. “We’re all about to die anyway.”
Atton turned away from the cockpit with a grimace and carried him along once more. “Even if that’s true, I’m not going to let you die any sooner than you have to. Come on. Our lives are in Hoff’s hands for now.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working,” Ethan replied.
Atton smiled grimly. “Point taken.”
* * *
Captain Loba Caldin shook her head and frowned as the admiral’s target appeared on the grid with a timer beside it, counting down from ten. As soon as it reached zero, they were supposed to open fire with everything they had, but the target coordinates were located in empty space. “What is this?” Caldin asked.
“He’s clearly lost his mind,” Adram said.
“That—” Caldin said, “—or he’s found a cloaked ship. The Sythians’ command ship, perhaps?”
Adram looked up with dark, glittering eyes. “You know we cannot detect cloaked vessels, Captain.”
“Maybe Hoff found a way.”
“Captain, even if that’s true, the admiral isn’t thinking about the thousands of men he has on board this ship. If we open fire, we’re all as good as dead—it’s too dangerous for us to reveal ourselves.”
Caldin frowned. “So we run off on our own.”
“That is my recommendation.”
“Let’s give them one volley,” Caldin said. “We can always cloak again afterward.”
Adram held her gaze for just a moment before he turned and nodded to the pair of sentinels standing beside the bridge doors. Those were his men. Caldin felt a flutter of trepidation, and she drew her sidearm in a blur, but not nearly fast enough. She heard a sharp screech and then her right side exploded with a searing pain. She bit back a scream, and the world seemed to tip upside down as she fell to the deck.
She lay there for a long moment, gasping for air, her eyes wide and staring as she listened to the rapid-fire screech of lasers and the startled cries of her crew. She could smell something liked charred meat wafting through the air, and her stomach gave a nauseating flip as she wondered about the source of that smell. A moment later, Adram’s smiling face appeared above her. He crouched down beside her, taking cover behind the captain’s table. Caldin turned her head to get a better look at him, and that was when she noticed that she was lying in a pool of blood. Her blood.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but there’s been a change of plans,” he said. “I would have liked to overthrow the admiral with you, but it was not to be.”
“Why . . . ?” she whispered, still struggling to breathe as she listened to the raucous screech of laser fire and the frenzied shouts of her crew.
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out already. You returned from the Getties, Caldin, but I was released.”
Caldin shook her head, rocking it from side to side. “No.”
“Your species has proven very difficult to wipe out. You’d be surprised what lengths we’ve gone to, but now that is all about to end,” he said, aiming his sidearm at her head.
“Wayy . . . !” Caldin wheezed for lack of breath. Wait, she wanted to say.
Adram shook his head. “No, Captain. You must be in a lot of pain. It would be cruel of me not to put you out of your misery. We’re not the monsters you seem to think we are.”
Chapter 32
Here comes the moment of truth, Hoff thought, hugging his wife and daughter close as the timer on the captain’s table reached zero. Abruptly, the deck thundered underfoot as all the Tauron’s weapons fired at the same instant, all aimed at the same invisible target. Hundreds of lasers and beams flashed out from the side of the Tauron—blinding red streaks of light. Silverstreak torpedoes and Hailfire missiles joined them, racing out on bright, glittering contrails. But nothing happened. Had they miscalculated? Maybe they really were shooting at empty space.
Then the first few explosions began to appear, seeming to rise up out of nowhere, spewing debris and bright orange streaks of fire. A cheer went up from the crew. Hoff felt his chest expand and his shoulders lift with rising hope. “Keep firing! Helm—get us closer to our target!”
“Yes, sir!”
“I don’t believe it,” he said, looking up from the grid and out the forward viewports to watch the blooming explosions. The first wave of torpedoes hit their target. They exploded with an all-consuming flash of light, and the bridge’s sound system relayed that as a rumbling roar which could be heard even over the constant thunder of Sythian missiles slamming into their shields. Atta whimpered and hid behind her parents.
Hoff watched as the raging explosions faded back to the comparative tranquility of stars and space. Then space began to shimmer and the stars began to fade. Someone on the bridge gasped, and another shouted out, “There she is!”
The command ship lay before them, and its bright, shimmering hull was suddenly all they could see. A dark, charred hole had opened up in the side of the ship, gaping wide like the mouth of some primordial monster about to swallow them whole.
“Keep firing!” Hoff ordered.
“Sir, I’m detecting shields powering!”
The deck shook with more impacts, the explosions sounding as distant echoes.
“It’s not enough . . .” he whispered, looking at the damage they’d caused. The hole in the side of the enemy cruiser cut almost halfway through the ship, but the behemoth had not been destroyed, and they wouldn’t land a killing blow before the shields were up. Moreover, if that command cruiser had any weapons, it would take just one volley from them to finish off the Tauron. There was only one thing left to do.
Hoff snapped into action, taking Destra and Atta’s hands in his as he strode down the gangway. “Helm!” he called out as he went. “Full throttle. Aim for the hole in the side of that ship. We’re going to cut her in half.”
“Yes, sir. . . .”
“Comms, have all our nonessential personnel abandon ship. They won’t have long, but maybe a few can still escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are we going?” Destra asked suddenly.
Hoff ignored her. “Tova!” he called out as they drew near to the alien. “Tell your people to stop firing on us as soon as they see the command cruiser destroyed. I’m trusting them to hold up their end of this deal. If they do, it might not be too late for humans and Gors to work together, after all.”
“I tell them,” Tova said, closing her eyes. “But I do not promise we work with humans again.”
Destra squeezed Hoff’s hand. “Tell me you’re coming with us.”
He shook his head. “I have to make sure this works, Des. I’m sorry.”
“Hoff!” Destra burst out, and suddenly she stopped walking.
He dragged her along roughly despite her protestations, and Atta began to cry. Hoff nodded to Sergeant Thriker, who stood watching Tova and Roan with the squad of sentinels. “Sergeant!”
“Sir?” Thriker asked, striding up beside them.
“I need you to look after my family for me,” Hoff said as they reached the back of the bridge. They stopped in front of a recessed door with glowing warning labels pasted all over it. It was an escape pod. Hoff passed his wrist over the control panel, and as soon as the door opened, he shoved Destra and Atta inside.
“Hoff, please!” Destra pleaded.
“This is the only way, Des! I love you both.”
He was about to tell Thriker to join his family in the pod when something heavy hit him from behind, and he went stumbling into his wife’s open arms.
“They took my family from me, Admiral. Make sure they don’t take you or yours.”
Hoff whirled around just in time to see Sergeant Thriker shut the door and seal the escape pod. Then came a flash of light as the launch tube energized. The pod’s IMS buffered their sudden acceleration, so no one was knocked off their feet. Hoff turned to see them racing down a long tunnel past consecutive rings of red light that flashed brightly as they roared
by.
Destra clung to his arm while Atta clung to his legs. Hoff clung to hope. If the Sythian Cruiser were disabled when the Tauron collided with it, and if the Gors surrendered after that . . . then maybe—maybe Dark Space still had a chance.
Suddenly the tunnel of light disappeared, and they roared out into the dark unknown.
* * *
Adram’s finger tightened on the trigger—
And a high-powered rifle blew him away. Caldin watched him hit the deck beside her with half of his face missing. She listened to the sounds of laser fire on the bridge briefly intensify, and suddenly she was very glad that the Sythian ship didn’t have a real viewport. By now it would have been shattered and all of them sucked out into space.
Caldin forced herself to breathe despite the fiery ache in her side. Moments later the sounds of laser fire ceased, and a familiar voice called out, “She’s over here!”
Her chief engineer appeared, kneeling at her side. “You’re going to be okay,” Delayn said as he found her hand and squeezed it.
Then a gruff voice called out in concern, and she turned to see a familiar corpsman rushing toward her. He knelt on the other side of her, and took her other hand. “Loba!”
Delayn shot the man an odd look, but he covered his surprise to hear a fellow petty officer calling their captain by her first name, and asked, “How is she?”
“Terl . . .” Caldin whispered, her eyes softening with a smile.
“She’s lucky,” the corpsman said, quickly checking her injured side. “It must have been a glancing hit. She lost a lot of blood, and she has a bad laser burn, but she’ll live.”
Caldin rocked her head from side to side, her eyes turning to the engineer. “What happened, Delayn?”
The folds of skin around Cobrale Delayn’s pale blue eyes tightened as he winced. “We lost a few good men.”
Caldin tried to sit up, but Terl held her down. “Don’t move,” he said. She heard an aerosol spray of some kind dispensing. Nanites. “That should stop the bleeding,” he said.
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