Odyssey One 5: Warrior King (22 page)

“The enemy vessel is coming out to meet us,” he noted, speaking over the tactical network to Navarch Plotu. “They have to know they’re outmatched.”

She glanced in his direction. “Courageous, but foolish. They would be better served if they withdrew from the system and fled to somewhere they could make a stand.”

Aymes nodded thoughtfully. “Agreed. Still, rushing to battle is not an Oather trait, is it?”

“Perhaps not, but then that only serves to support your anomaly story, Captain.”

“There is that,” Aymes conceded.

“We engage on schedule,” the navarch decided. “Issue the necessary orders . . . and Captain Aymes?”

“Yes Navarch?”

“Follow my ship’s lead,” she ordered. “Do not get in our way.”

►►►

PW
Heral’c

► “They’ve accelerated,” the second announced as Kierna Senthe looked up. “Interception time has moved up.”

“I see it,” Senthe answered. “Hold course.”

“Captain, we have no chance against that force.”

Senthe turned to respond. “We had no chance against the Drasin. Miracles happen . . . And if they do not happen this time, then so be it.”

He scowled at the display, trying to decide the best point to meet the intruders. Not that there
was
a “best point” in this mess.

“Stand by for course alteration,” he said suddenly.

“Awaiting new orders, Captain,” his navigation officer answered, half turning.

“Adjust acceleration, reverse power by two-thirds, and bring us about to interval one ninety,” Senthe ordered. “Engage when plotted.”

The response took only a few seconds. “Course plotted and engaged.”

“That will bring them deeper into the system, to us.”

His second frowned. “This is a good thing?”

“It will also put our engagement point right at the edge of the planetary defense system,” Senthe said. “It will not even the game, but it should put some advantages into our hands.”

Not enough, he was certain, but then there was no possible way to win this fight. He just needed to do what he could to discourage their movement toward the planet, at least until the admiral could shake a few ships loose to cover the system again.

►►►

IBC
Shion Thon
, Flagship, Third Reconnaissance Squadron

► The interception moment was rapidly approaching as the target vessel shifted course on their screens, and Misrem eyed the new vector curiously for a moment as she pondered her response.

Tactics for combat within the gravity well of a star were inherently limited, but those limitations were often not as crippling as people tended to believe. However, even within those bounds, this particular maneuver was unusual.

“He’s not trying to evade interception. The change only alters contact by a very short time,” she whispered pensively, “so what are you up to, my poor friend?”

She shifted her focus away from the ship they were closing in on to the planet beyond and tipped her head slightly.

“You want us to waste time chasing you instead of focusing on the planet,” she decided. “Very courageous, my poor friend, but unfortunately for you . . . we have no interest in the planet—not this time.”

She lifted her head. “Shift course. Best-time interception. We’ll play his game. Let him lead us on a merry chase.”

►►►

► As the squadron delved deeper into the gravity field of the local star, the variables stressing the drives multiplied. Planets, moons, even large asteroids became factors that required consideration by the engineers charged with maintaining the integrity of the drives. This wasn’t normally an issue. Those potential variables were relatively mild and not especially difficulty to factor in. However, when combined with fifteen unstable singularity cores—more, actually, since most ships in the squadron used redundant cores—things could become touchy.

That was why, as the ships sank deeper into the system, the squadron spread out further to reduce interference while increasing weapon and scanner coverage. That had the effect of exposing their numbers, of course, but in this situation that didn’t concern the navarch.

They broke into three elements of five ships apiece, two moving to flank the target ship while the third continued on a direct interception course. Approaching within a few light-minutes, they increased power to the drives as they went into terminal attack mode.

The squadron led with a brace of laser strikes, beams lancing out across the vacuum of space as an early announcement of its arrival.

►►►

PW
Heral’c

► “Secure armor, best available settings,” Senthe ordered as he sat at his station.

The enemy were doing exactly what he wanted them to do, and that was making him more than a little nervous. They were showing no interest in the planet at all, focusing their entire weight on his ship for whatever bizarre reason they might have.

He didn’t understand their reasoning. The task force coming in his direction was
far
greater than what it would realistically take to eliminate a single ship like his
Heral’c
. They could have easily detached two-thirds of their weight without risking anything.

“Why are they chasing us so intently?” he murmured.

“Captain?”

“Nothing,” Senthe said, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“Yes Captain.”

And now my crew is going to start thinking I’m crazy,
he thought with some amusement.

It didn’t matter, not anymore. The incoming squadron was clearly choosing a hostile attack vector, and unless he was mistaken, it had already opened fire.

“Best bring damage control to full alert,” he said.

“They should already be on alert, Captain,” his second said.

“Then make sure they are,” Senthe said tersely.

“Yes Captain.”

“Helm control . . .”

“Captain?”

“Evasion pattern, execute immediately,” Senthe said. “I expect they’ve fired already. Let’s not be where they expect us to be.”

“Yes Captain.”

The
Heral’c
shifted course, almost insignificantly by planetary standards but by several thousand kilometers from its projected position. It was the most basic of tactics, but also incredibly effective.

After that, Senthe just had to wait and see if he was right. With the alarms screaming, he got his answer just moments later.

“Report!”

“Beam trace, Captain,” his weapons officer announced. “High level, over our current capacity by at least twenty percent. No variance.”

Well, there’s that at least, for what little it’s worth.

Sadly, the fact that there was no variance in the beams didn’t amount to much when there were so damn many of them. If he adapted the armor of the
Heral’c
to any one beam, the rest would turn him, his crew, and his ship to expanding vapor all the same.

“Calculate targets, return fire,” he ordered.

“Which ship?”

“All of them,” Senthe replied with a dry laugh.

Might as well go out in a blaze of light and darkness.

►►►

IBC
Shion Thon
, Flagship, Third Reconnaissance Squadron

► “Target evaded. All beams will miss.”

Misrem was unsurprised. “Continue firing. He cannot evade for much longer.”

“As you command, Navarch.”

She didn’t reply—didn’t need to. Once her orders were given, Misrem knew they would be followed. The routine confirmation mildly annoyed her, as though anyone on her crew would have the temerity not to pay attention to her every word.

The range was closing rapidly now. The target vessel wasn’t even trying to keep it open any longer. She supposed that the other captain knew well enough that his number was up. It didn’t matter how powerful his ship was, or how many tricks it had. Against her task force, there was no escape.

“Beam strike!”

“Who?” she twisted, eyes flashing.

“The
Cora
, the
Menaz
, the
Tiv
. . . Navarch, more reports coming in from across the squadron!”

“Damage reports. Anything significant?”

“No, Navarch. Some minor hull breaches, all sealed. Casualties are not significant. Beams were attenuated going through our gravitational warps.”

Misrem nodded. “Very well.”

She looked to the plot, dryly amused by the actions of her quarry. His response to her assault was immediate but amateurish at best. A professional would have struck at one or perhaps two targets, intending to inflict more significant damage.

Of course, at this range, striking at as many targets as possible
did
increase the odds of landing a strike, since even minute changes in course would result in missing by massive degrees. Still, a professional would have taken the lower odds of a hit in exchange for the higher odds of a kill.

This doesn’t look particularly good for Captain Aymes’ story,
she thought.

It was a pity, really, as she’d almost found herself liking the rather abrasive captain. Unfortunately, he appeared to be nothing more than another fool trying to cover his incompetence.

She watched the plot carefully as the range plummeted, the slight whine of the laser discharging almost covered up by the regular sounds of the command deck.

“Navarch, we’ve analyzed their patterns,” her tactical officer said confidently.

“Adjust fire parameters. Continue full barrage.”

So now the fun part begins.

►►►

PW
Heral’c

► “Enemy vessels closing. They’re getting closer with their fire as well, Captain.”

Senthe could see that, unfortunately.

“Break contact. Maximum acceleration,” he ordered. “Take us away from the planet. Lure them out; buy time.”

“Yes Captain.”

The
Heral’c
shifted vectors away from the inbound squadron, alarms still sounding regularly as it detected beams crossing space nearby. Senthe knew he wasn’t going to buy much time, but he’d take anything he could get.

The
Heral’c
suddenly shook, a hammer blow crashing through the decks of the ship with enough force that the crew members grabbed the closest objects to steady themselves.

“Hull breach! Decks eighteen through twenty-one!”

Senthe grimaced. That had to have been a direct strike, and the hit was earlier than he had expected. He’d bought less time than he’d hoped.

“Damage control is working on it,” Corva said. “Damage is extensive but—”

Another strike rumbled through the decks.

“You were about to say something?” Senthe asked wryly.

His second didn’t have a response, not that anything would have mattered.

“We’ve sustained damage to the drives, Captain. They’ll not hold stable for long now,” he said finally.

“Sound the order to abandon ship. They have our range,” Senthe said, gritting his teeth as a third rumble shook the deck.

“But—”

“Do it.”

“Yes Captain.” His second lowered his head, issuing the order.

►►►

► The
Heral’c
was losing air across more than a dozen decks, and her acceleration was dropping fast as lifeboats began launching from the big ship. Strewn across several light-seconds of space, the small pods oriented themselves and attempted to connect to the local relays to signal for help. When those signals were returned with no indication of aid, the lifeboats went into backup mode and sent a short-burst call for help using limited-duration tachyon transmitters.

Third Recon ignored the calls, being quite certain that there were no ships close enough to respond in time, and continued to close on the stricken
Heral’c
.

CHAPTER 21

Odysseus
Task Force

► Eric Weston burst onto the bridge of the
Odysseus
, still buttoning up his tunic. He’d barely managed three hours of sleep while the task force’s research teams scrambled to get all the details they could on the nearby alien megastructure.

“What is it?”

“An SOS call, Capitaine,” Milla responded, which was a little out of order since she was assigned to tactical operations.

Her accent was more pronounced than usual, Eric noticed. That tended to happen only when Milla was stressed.

Eric glanced at the displays. “Since there are no other ships near here, and you’d have told me if the call was from one of mine, I have to assume it’s a Priminae distress call. Lifeboat model, same as we picked you up in?”

“Yes, Capitaine . . . but not one. Many.”

“Many?” Eric blinked. “How many?”

Sams looked up. “Forty-three at last count. The frequency of new signals has begun to drop, but my guess, Captain, is that there will be sixty when it is all finished.”

“Sixty,” Eric said flatly. “That’s the number of lifeboats on a Priminae cruiser.”

“Yes sir.”

“Location?”

“We’ve locked them down to a minor Priminae system called Por-Que,” Sams said. “It’s a short-burst distress call, so we don’t have any details, but something went hot and bad there.”

“Show me the system,” Eric ordered, waving toward the main display.

The image on the screen flickered, replaced by a top-down view of a solar system with six planets. Eric could tell at a glance from the color coding that only one was inhabited, and the main activity in the system appeared to be mining trace materials from around the planet in question. Interesting to someone, perhaps, but not of any value to him at the moment.

“Back out. Show me the system in relation to our location,” he said.

“The system is four hundred light-years away, Captain . . .”

“Back out, Ensign,” Eric turned, glowering as he repeated himself, “and show me the system in relation to our location.”

“Yes sir.” Sams quailed under the combined glares of Captain Weston and Commander Heath.

The screen shifted again, greatly pulling back, and the two locations appeared on the screen. Eric looked at them and shook his head.

“Coincidences . . . coincidences . . . ,” he murmured.

“Sir?” Miram asked, uncertain.

“The timing bothers me, Commander,” he said, shaking his head, “but I don’t see any connection. Ensign, show me the Priminae worlds.”

“Capitaine,” Milla spoke up hesitantly, “I do not understand. What are you looking for?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. It
could
be a Drasin attack, perhaps . . . but we’ve had no contact with them since Earth.”

He considered for a moment before finally coming to a decision. “If it’s the Drasin, then we’re too late anyway . . . but . . .”

He walked around his station and approached the main display. “Ensign, show me the systems attacked by the Drasin.”

A set of systems turned red on the display in response.

“There,” Eric said, pointing. “That’s the system we just left, isn’t it? The one we met the bandit in?”

“Aye sir,” Sams responded.

“And Por-Que is the closest intact system,” Eric said. “We’re backtracking the Drasin attack, right?”

“We are, Captain,” Miram said, coming up beside him. “What does that matter?”

“What if someone is doing the same from the other side?” he said. “If you were tracking along the same path, from the other side, and you ran into an unknown ship . . . where would you look for them after contact?”

“Could be anywhere, Captain . . . ,” Miram said.

“No, not anywhere,” Eric corrected. “Not if you don’t know about the transition drive.”

The commander blinked, then nodded slowly. “Of course. A ship with minor damage, limited by space-warp speeds . . . they’d probably go to the closest system for a patch.”

“And if you wanted to find them, then that is where you would go too,” Eric said.

“You think they went looking for
us
?” Miram asked, skeptical.

“Not us specifically, but they’re tracking something,” Eric said, “and when we encountered them, I think that put us on their radar.”

“Well, we’re outside of relay range,” Miram said, “but we could send a short burst with some intelligence back to Earth from here.”

“No point,” Eric said. “They’ve got the same data we do by now.”

Eric looked over to the displays showing the alien megastructure just beyond their hull, then back to the star charts. He considered the odds, the mission priorities, and a thousand other things in a few seconds.

“Signal the task force,” he said abruptly. “We’re pulling out.”

“Captain?” Miram frowned.

“Helm, start plotting transition coordinates for that system,” he ordered, glancing over at Sams. “How deep in the system are the signals coming from?”

“Deep, sir, close to the fourth planet.”

“Right.” Eric walked over to Steph and laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to transition in as deep as we can . . . Steph, I need to know, how reliable is NICS on this heap?”

Steph looked up over his shoulder. “Pretty tight, Raze, but these aren’t Double A fighters.”

“I know that, but how tight can you maneuver this heap?”

Stephen considered the question for a moment, then gave a slight grin. “Pretty damn tight. I’ll need to coordinate with the others, though.”

“They’re all Archangels. I don’t see that as a problem.”

“Right you are, sir.”

Eric straightened up. “Good. Go to it.”

He left his pilot to his task, then turned to Miram. “I want the Rogues online in five. I’ll take it from my office.”

“Yes sir.”

“In the meantime, Commander, triple-check the transition coordinates,” Eric said. “We’re going to drop in
hot
on that AO, but I’d rather we didn’t scatter ourselves across the galaxy doing it.”

“Got it, sir, I’ll get them locked down.”

“Good.” Eric looked around. “Alright, you have your orders. Get to it. Oh, and Commander? Best sound general quarters. Beat the drums, Miram, beat the drums.”

“Aye aye, Skipper.”

►►►

► “Cardsharp.”

“Stephanos,” Jennifer “Cardsharp” Samuels said with a slightly wry look. “Nice to chat again. Been thinking you’ve been avoiding me.”

Stephen chuckled. “Don’t be like that. You know a pilot only has room for one love. How is your
Booty
anyway?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “The
Boudicca
is just fine, Steph. I assume this call has something to do with the general quarters call we just sounded?”

“You assume right.” Steph nodded before glancing at the other screen. “Burner, you ready to fly?”

“In these tugs? Should be interesting, I suppose,” Burner answered. “What bug got up the boss’ butt, do you know?”

“A Primmy cruiser, one of the old class but refitted, just abandoned ship in one of the minor systems. Might not be related, but the boss thinks the cruiser’s attacker might just be the bandit we tangled with a couple weeks ago.”

“The ones who shot you down, Steph?” Cardsharp asked, grinning.

“I was flying a frigging
shuttle
.”

“Still counts.”

“It does not!”

“Burner?” she asked their colleague, chuckling openly.

“Sorry, Steph, definitely counts,” Burner said, smiling tightly.

“Jerks,” Steph grumbled. “
Anyway
, boss wants to check it out, so we’re going in, and we’re going in
hot
. So we need to talk formations and maneuvers in a hurry.”

The other two pilots exchanged glances on their screens and then leaned in.

“Sounds fun,” Burner said.

“Agreed,” Jennifer confirmed, but looking less eager.

“What is it, Sharp?” Steph asked, reading her expression.

“I think we need to bring our engineers in on this,” she told them. “Space-warp drives can interfere with one another. Any maneuvers we plan, they need to sign off on, maybe even need to be involved in during the move.”

Steph groaned. “Ugh. Didn’t think of that, but you’re right. Okay, get your geeks in on this while I go shake down mine. Back online in an hour.”

►►►

► “Captains.” Eric looked around the displays arrayed about him.

“Commodore . . . ,” the one in the center, Ian Shepherd, captain of the AEV
Hood
, responded. “Since we’ve all gone to general quarters, I assume you plan to do something about the distress signals?”

“That would be a fair assumption,” Eric said. “We’re going to transition in system, as deep as we dare, and move immediately to full space-warp drives. We’ve got a good idea where the signals came from, and they’re pretty deep inside the well, so we’re going in hot.”

“Excuse me, Commodore,” Captain Su Lynn Jing of the
Song-Jiang
interjected, “but I do not understand the need for such speed. Reports on the Priminae lifeboats indicate that they can survive weeks without intervention.”

“They can,” Eric replied. “However, saving those crewmen isn’t the reason for going in hot. I’m more concerned with what caused them to abandon ship in the first place.”

“You think the spiders had something to do with it?” Maxine Ritter, captain of the
Kid
, asked softly.

“Unlikely, and if they did, then we’ll be arriving too late anyway,” Eric said. “No, I think . . . I
hope
that we’re looking at an Imperial incursion.”

Ian nodded. “Alright, I can see that. So what’s the plan?”

“The Heroics are going to transition a few seconds before you take your Rogues through,” Eric said. “We’ll go to full drives as soon as we arrive, shining knight armor settings. You lot come in
dark
, behind us, and go deep.”

The captain of the
Aladdin
, Benjamin Alhad, frowned as he leaned forward in the display.

“Commodore, am I to understand that you intend to use your Heroics as
bait
?”

“We can’t hide, so we may as well attract some real attention,” Eric said. “We can also take a beating. You can’t. So we’ll keep them focused while you flank them. Stay dark until you get a shot, then change course and speed after every one.”

“This goes against pretty much every SOP for carrier escort, you realize?” Ian asked dryly.

“The Heroics are not carriers—we’re battleships,” Eric told him. “We can cover our own flanks. Do you each understand your orders?”

The captains of his Rogues acknowledged his command, some less eagerly than others, but Eric wasn’t concerned with that.

“Relax. I have no intention of sacrificing another ship.” Eric smiled darkly. “This is probably an unnecessary maneuver anyway. The Imperial ship we tangled with was not maneuvered by what I’d call a tactical genius. And while their weapons were more powerful than expected, like the Priminae and the Drasin they seem to rely primarily on brute force. You’re all giant killers, ladies and gentlemen. Have no fear of Goliath.”

“And if Goliath brought friends?” Ritter asked with a very slight Southern drawl.

“That’s why we have Heroics, Max.” Eric smiled. “Let us live up to our name.”

►►►

► “The difficulty isn’t just in precision flying,” Chief Siing Khava insisted as he spoke to the others present around the table. “As close as you want to fly, Commander, we’ll need to worry about resonance between our drives.”

The chief could see the others were somewhat mixed in their understanding. However, with the engineers of the other Heroics nodding along, he was gratified that the pilots seemed to have some idea of what he was saying.

“Our drives can cancel each other out, then?” Lieutenant Commander Samuels asked.

“That,” he said, “or worse, they might enforce one another.”

“That would be a problem in precision flying,” Steph conceded.

“More than that, I’m afraid,” Siing offered, sighing. “If you reinforce the drives beyond the safety limit, you risk creating an artificial singularity large enough to swallow the ship.”