Last of the Immortals (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 3) (32 page)

He straightened out. Nobody was dead, but there had been a lot of incoming fire. Shields were probably pretty horked all over the team about now and fuses were going to be blown. They needed time to recover. But they had done their job of distracting and poking.

You killed the bull slowly when all you had was little knives
.

“Squadron, this is
CR–264
,” Kigali’s voice came out of the comm. “I could really use some help about now.”

Jouster
checked his scanners, fed from a feed off
da Vinci
’s better sensor pods.

Yup. Kigali was about to get his ass handed to him.

Ξ

“Bridge, this is Keller,” Denis heard Jessica’s voice say urgently. “Turn your primaries towards
SturmTeufel
, right now. Get him off Kigali.”

“Tactical. Acknowledged,” Tamara replied.

Denis checked his own boards. Damage Control had everything under control, it appeared.
Cayenne
should be getting close to the best predicted coordinates for
Damocles
, but both were running dark and radio silent, so he could only guess. And hope.

Tamara took a deep breath and popped her neck to the right.

“Gunnery, you heard the boss,” she said. “Everything you’ve got. Unlock the Type–3’s and fire at extreme range. Defense, put two Hawk missiles backwards at the battlecruiser to keep him honest, then load the Archerfish–threes into the tubes. Keep an eye ready to launch a shot missile from the observatory turret. Somebody’s going to wake up soon.”

Centurions Afolayan and Vanek both acknowledged without ever looking up from their boards.

Denis wasn’t holding his breath that it would be enough at this point.
CR–264
had wandered almost under the light cruiser’s nose. All the damage had likely been to her ass, so her guns were probably be fine.

Sure enough, they opened up.

The only thing that probably saved Kigali from getting smeared was that it was impossible to target primaries at something so close.
SturmTeufel
didn’t bother, so either he knew that, or they had been damaged. But four Type–3 beams lashed out, ravening fire licking at Kigali’s nose as he kept the little escort on her line and tried to blow by the Imperial at high speed instead of turning away, spinning and wiggling like a minnow on a hook.

It might even work.

“Sensors,” Tamara said sharply. “What the hell is
Rajput
doing? Get someone on the comm and get him to shear off. He’s going to block our firing lanes.”

Denis watched the heavy destroyer cross their bow and square up with the light cruiser. For firepower, they were evenly matched. And
Auberon
was still too far away to really contribute meaningfully, even with the primaries. If the light cruiser had way more hull to absorb damage, Alber’ d’Maine didn’t seem to care.

Nor should he. That class had been designed to put a light cruiser’s guns on a destroyer’s hull. It hadn’t worked, and they had never built a second one, but fleet had ended up putting a warrior in command of a dedicated warship.

Rajput
went Vedic. It was a term Denis had picked up from Jessica.

Something had happened at
Petron
. Something good, but something strange. Her vocabulary and her demeanor had changed.

Rajput
fired all six missile tubes at once. It was almost like watching a pufferfish suddenly swell. Or a tiny dog rise up on its haunches and growl. The exhaust from the launch shrouded her briefly in a fog bank, even as she blasted through it, like a warhorse emerging from the darkness. All three primaries spoke at once. Every beam on the wings and flanks spoke at the same time.

SturmTeufel
apparently felt the same way. She ignored
CR–264
and turned to pour everything into
Rajput
. She had fewer missiles, but just as many guns. And Kigali could still protect his squadron mate, firing Parthian at close range as he went through and killing two missiles before they could turn and stabilize.

For a moment, Denis wasn’t sure
Rajput
was on a path that would miss the Imperial. It might be parking–lot–damage–close as they passed. They might actually touch. At these speeds, that might be fatal.

“Nav,” Tamara barked. “Come around to zero–three–zero and down ten. Keep the engines flat out until something explodes or I say otherwise. Get me a shot past
Rajput
.”

“On it,” Nada Zupan replied.

Denis felt frames stretch as the helm answered and Nada fought the great warhorse to bring her clear enough that they could fire past the friendly vessel.

Denis scrolled his projection back enough to see the bigger field. That was usually Jessica’s responsibility, but he had been too closely focused, first on the battlecruiser and then on the other vessel.

Vedic
.

Amsel
and
Stralsund
had jousted, like two spring rams knocking heads. Both appeared to have knocked the other unconscious. Tactical victory for the smaller vessel as the two drifted off–line at full speed.

Auberon
and her destroyers had survived the battlecruiser’s ire.
Brightoak
had apparently slowed down when nobody was paying attention, lagging far enough behind
Auberon
that she could drift to port and continue to fire askance at
Petrograd
. The Imperial battlecruiser was in pretty terrible shape, it appeared.

Too much was happening.

Brightoak
apparently got a shot home into
Petrograd
from the far wing. Denis watched hull metal explode, just as
Jouster
and the flight wing swooped into a suddenly vulnerable flank. Beam fire and explosions immolated her hull like an army of fire ants.

Denis turned back to the main event.

Rajput
was close enough to throw rocks at
SturmTeufel
, if she wanted. Hell, Alber d’Maine might be able to climb out on the hull with a pulse rifle and score hits as they went by.

The Imperial had given up with the primaries at this range, but was happily burning out her beam turrets, pouring a withering furnace of destruction into the smaller destroyer.

And
Rajput
...

Denis would carry that image to his grave.

Every technical and tactical manual in print very expressly covered the absolute minimum range you could engage someone with primaries. They were long–range weapons. Big guns on big ships.

Alber’ didn’t care.

Denis watched
Rajput
roll onto her side and fire all three primaries straight up into
SturmTeufel
’s flank, from close enough that energy backlash probably shattered the rest of
Rajput
’s shields as well, even as they literally carved the Imperial warship into pieces.

It was like attacking a dessert pudding with a knife as the light cruiser started to come apart.

And then a flash of light as something went super–nova. The screen filters kicked in and blanked the screen out.

“Vishnu,” Jessica whispered into his ear, probably unaware that the comm was live.

He had to agree anyway.

“Giroux,” he said.

“Already on it,” the man replied. “Stand by. I just lost every sensor pod on that facing. Give me five seconds to rotate fresh ones out.”

“Squadron, this is the flag,” Jessica’s voice was back. Firm. Commanding. Almost regal. “Everyone check in.”

The two squadrons were moving apart at high speed, frequently leaking atmosphere and hull metal into the void.

The two sides had jousted. Lances at high speed. Hammer and shield. It was a tale for a modern Veda.

“
Brightoak
nominal,” Robbie Aeliaes said. He had apparently been ignored in the mess. Dumb idea, but you had to pick which crazy person to shoot at when they were all coming at you. Robbie had drawn the happy straw today.

“
Auberon
in reasonable shape,” Denis chimed in. “We can fly and we can fight. Flight wing is recoverable.”

“Flight wing down one,”
Jouster
added. “Everyone else bruised and bloodied, but generally functional.”

“
Stralsund
here, Commander,” Centurion Whughy announced. “Ship is currently at fifty–eight percent functionality and climbing.”

“
CR–264
is good,” Kigali said. “Thanks to
Rajput
. Give me ten minutes to bring her around and I’ll be back in line.”

Denis waited.

The comm stayed silent.

He sincerely hoped that the explosion had just flash–welded every antenna available, instead of generating a shock wave that had bounced everyone off walls and ceilings and broken the vessel apart.

“Flag, sensors,” Giroux said. “Back on line, and…–oh, hell.”

Denis had to agree.

Rajput
was no longer a long, lean knife–blade of a warship. The explosion had actually warped her hull, bent it at least ten degrees out of true, somewhere just aft of center, like a diver turning and getting ready for water.

He wondered if anyone had survived.

“
Cayenne
, this is the flag,” Jessica ordered. “As soon as you have
Damocles
, high–tail your butt to
Rajput
and prepare to evacuate casualties. All vessels, prepare to launch medical and damage control teams in your shuttles and get them aboard
Rajput
soonest.”

“Flag, this is
Jouster
,” the man called. “Something’s happening with the Imperials. It doesn’t look good.”

Chapter LX

Imperial Founding: 172/06/16. Ballard system

Emmerich growled under his voice.

He had failed.

Jessica Keller had beat him. His squadron had been mauled, shattered, nearly destroyed. They would have to limp home, those few that survived.

He had set out to spring a trap, and fallen into hers. The Emperor would never forgive him.

But he could at least exact one last, bloody vengeance before his time was done.

“Damage control teams,” he barked as the medic departed with Hendrik, wobbly and head wrapped, but otherwise intact. “Prioritize engines, shields, guns, and jump drives. Everything else can wait until we are away.”

Emmerich took a deep breath. He could smell smoke in the air. Something scorched or possibly ready to erupt in flames. Until it did, it could be ignored. And then, there were other people who would fix it.

“Navigation, come to two–seven–five and accelerate to flank speed. Gunnery, prepare firing solutions for
Alexandria Station
as we close and plot range spheres on the projection. Gentlemen, we have lost the battle with Jessica Keller. We are going to kill the
Sentience
before we go home.”

Around him, his men responded quietly.
Amsel
was wounded, but she could still fight. And a battleship could work up a far greater head of steam than a lesser vessel, especially with a head start.

He turned back to his projection and quickly scanned the battle readouts of the rest of the squadron.

The survivors, that was.

The
Fribourg Empire
had paid a terrible price today.

Petrograd
was barely holding things together. Those destroyers had hurt her badly, and the flight wing had nearly killed her.
Essert
, amazingly, was almost entirely undamaged.

Baasch
and
Kappel
were functionally dead. He could rely on
Aquitaine
to rescue all of the survivors possible from the shattered hulls and pieces. It would not be a large percentage of the men who had set out with him. And nobody had gotten off
SturmTeufel
alive, except perhaps by the sorts of random crazy luck that made fiction on the best–seller’s lists look staid and predictable.

“Squadron, this is Admiral Wachturm,” he said stoically. “
Petrograd
, you will turn away and escape. Do not wait for me at the rendezvous point, but get to Imperial space as quickly as possible.
Essert
, you will escort her out of the gravity well and home.
Amsel
will complete our mission and then retreat out the far side of the gravity well and return via alternate route.”

He could not kill Jessica Keller today. Nor Moirrey Kermode. Perhaps the Emperor would have to send personal assassins after those two women.

But he would be damned if that
Sentience
didn’t make it to hell ahead of him.

Chapter LXI

Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Alexandria Station, Ballard

It were kinda awesome, considering what Moirrey had done. It made all the silly rude things she had done to both the Red Admiral and the pirates pale by comparison. And that were saying something.

Lady Keller would be proud.

Moirrey surveyed her work one last time.

“So, Suvi,” she said with a half–giggle. “Whachathink?”

“Centurion Kermode. Moirrey,” Suvi replied. “Even if we fail today, it has been a great pleasure to know you. Now, shall we escape?”

“Indubitably,” Moirrey replied.

She set out to backtrack her way out of the little closet, hidden down in the bowels of the ancient computer core. First, pop open the little hatch and duck down under the too–short lintel. Then down the cramped hallway as silent as she could be. Ya never knowed when the bad guys would be about. Finally, back to the secret door that led into the main chamber where Suvi’s chips had been stored.

It were still cold, but at least she’d been able to put her tunic back on over the too–thin shirt.

Open the door a crack and peek. Nobody there. All good.

Moirrey opened the door the rest of the way into the room and took a step forward.

Something went boom.

Moirrey found herself on the floor, kinda seeing stars, everything awful blinky.