Odyssey One 5: Warrior King (27 page)

The command deck was buried deep in the superstructure of the ship, and that was their primary goal as they worked inward. Anyone rescued along the way was strictly a bonus, though there were other teams spreading out to clear as much of the ship as they could.

Portable lights were necessary. Whatever had taken the ship out of play had effectively cut the power more cleanly than most had known possible without collapsing the core itself. By the time rescuers reached the command deck, smoke and powerful flood lamps turned every step into a nightmarish ordeal.

They forced the portal to the command deck open. Thankfully, the security doors hadn’t been closed or entry would have been impossible in the time they had. The rescue team broke into the large open area that served as the nerve center of the squadron.

“Navarch!” called the team leader.

Without a response, the team leader waved everyone in. “Check for anyone living, give them air, and get them out of here. I’ve got the navarch’s station.”

He found her slumped over her console, fingers bloody, the displays where she’d been working smeared. A check found her alive, which was a relief, and he slapped an oxygen mask over her face.

“Navarch! You must awake!” He grimaced, then smacked her sharply, living out the fantasy of more than a few of his fellow lower-deck comrades. “She’s coming out of it, but I need a healer here!”

The closest healer called out and stumbled his way through the smoke and darkness, immediately getting to work.

“I don’t recommend it, but I can wake her with a stimulant,” he said finally.

“Do it,” the team leader said. “We need her awake. Captain’s orders.”

“Right. Very well. I’ll stay with her then, in case,” the healer said as he administered the dose.

The navarch’s eyes opened wide as she gasped in a deep breath through the mask, limbs flailing as the stimulant hit her nervous system. The men held her down until they felt her calm a bit, then the team leader waved them off and helped her to her feet.

“Navarch, you must evacuate the vessel,” he said. “The healer will see you back to the
Piar Cohn
.”

She nodded, trying to speak, but nothing came out.

“Your voice will return shortly,” the healer said. “Come with me.”

The team lead watched them go and keyed his comm. “Navarch coming out. Rescue One will clear the command deck.”

►►►

IBC
Piar Cohn

► Aymes slumped in relief when he heard that they’d found the navarch alive.

We might be able to pull this one out, one way or another, after all.

“Get the navarch to the command deck as fast as you can,” he ordered one of his runners. “I want her here immediately.”

“Yes Captain!”

The
Piar Cohn
and the majority of the squadron were effectively on a ballistic course, grouped around the stricken flagship. Those who’d reversed their course and were decelerating toward the enemy were still within the firing range of said enemy. Without the available support of the rest of the Third Recon, things were
not
going well for them.

Those who’d broken and run . . . They’d be dealt with later.

Once she was on board, the bewildered navarch was quickly rushed through the
Piar Cohn
and half carried onto the command deck.

“Captain Aymes?”

“Navarch,” Aymes said roughly, “good to see you in person. The situation needs your command.”

She shook her head, presumably trying to clear it. “What is the situation?”

“We’ve broken through the passing engagement and, for now, are outside the enemy range of fire.”

That wasn’t strictly true, of course. They were on a ballistic course, and that made them a sitting duck for long-range beams and other weapons. But for the moment the enemy had other things to occupy their time.

“Show me,” she croaked, eyes turning to the tactical display.

He waved it back, showing the overall situation. “The squadron lost other commanders in the engagement and lost some cohesion, My Lady. Few, if any, ships are undamaged . . . but we can say much the same for the enemy as far as that goes. They still have their three battle cruisers, however badly we struck at them, so I would not care to estimate how powerful they remain.”

“All that, and we only destroyed one small ship?” Misrem asked angrily.

“The other three small vessels remained at a distance and fired from stealth positions,” he said, “and the battle cruisers have similar toughness to our own ships, but with significantly better armor and very efficient lasers. We lost four ships outright. Three others were effectively crippled, including your own. Judging by our own ships, I believe if we re-engage, we can eliminate the cruisers. However, the smaller ships have gone back to stealth, and they utilize antimatter, My Lady.”

She nodded weakly.

Antimatter weapons were something that was effectively impossible to defend against conventionally. Having them fired from very nearly invisible enemy ships was a nightmare she didn’t care to think too hard about.

It chafed, however, to call a retreat.

Yet they’d certainly accomplished the first brief of their assigned task. There was no
way
these were Oather vessels, and thus they had confirmed that the Oathers had allies—ones who were ready, willing, and even
eager
to fight.

“Our mission is accomplished,” she said finally. “We’ve confirmed your report, Captain. This is no longer a task for Third Recon; it is for the fleet.”

“I agree, My Lady.”

She turned to the console. “Give me squadron-wide communications.”

►►►

AEV
Odysseus

► “They’re leaving, Captain!” Sams called as the enemy ships began to redshift on the screens.

Eric nodded slowly, almost surprised. Given the ferocity of the engagement, he’d been expecting the fight to run a lot longer. He was fairly certain that the enemy ships could have turned the tide. There were limits to how much even a Heroic could take, but the Imperials had apparently lost their taste for the battle.

Why doesn’t that make me feel good?

As long as they were withdrawing, he wasn’t in the mood to chase them. Well, honestly, he was, but he didn’t have the Delta-V to catch up, and he knew it.

“Continue engagement with the stragglers, unless they kill their drives. I want them burned out of my sky,” he ordered, “but I want combat rescue in the black in two minutes.”

“Aye Skipper,” Miram said. “Combat rescue is launching now.”

He slumped a little, oblivious now to the insanity running around him.

Why withdraw? They’re not cowards, not most of them at least. This fight could have been turned around. They had to know that.

He figured from the way the fight deteriorated that they’d gotten lucky and taken out a fair chunk of the command structure. After the engagement had passed, the enemy obviously didn’t know what to do.

That was the sort of thing he expected to see from a second-rate military, not from an advanced culture. Yet that sort of rigid command structure did fit the mold of an empire.

Eric was certain this wouldn’t be the last time the Alliance had the opportunity to test the Empire’s prowess and flexibility in battle.

►►►

► Amid the debris and horror of the battle, shuttles launched rapidly from the
Odysseus
,
Bellerophon
, and
Boudicca
as well as the three remaining Rogues.

The battle had taken mere minutes, a passing engagement that could easily have been counted in seconds, in fact. But the cleanup would take
days
to complete.

In the deep black, death was never far away.

CHAPTER 25

Priminae System Por-Que

► Admirals Gracen and Tanner stood at the viewport as their fast courier ship slowed its descent into the Por-Que system, each observing the wreckage strewn across a light-hour of space and more. Nearly intact ships still drifted in space nearby, and the hulk of a Terran Rogue Class ship was first among them.

“Once again, I find myself in your debt,” Tanner said tiredly.

“Once again, I find myself wondering if I should commend Weston or kick his arse.”

Tanner shot her an odd look, but she assumed the humor had parsed well enough, because he didn’t have any questions.

“I hope you’ll pardon me for siding with the commendation idea?” he asked, surprisingly mildly.

That tone caused her to do a slight double take and laugh quietly. “I don’t think I’ll blame you for that, Admiral.” Gracen sighed deeply. “We need more intelligence on these people, these Imperials.”

“On that we agree wholeheartedly,” he said.

Ahead of them, the three Heroics were on station as repair ships from Por-Que and Ranquil swarmed around them. She could see that they were still running flight operations amid all the work and assumed that it was probably for research and recovery of alien tech. The squadron should have found all the survivors by now and any of the bodies they were going to find.

The lost crew would likely reach into the thousands once the Priminae deaths from the
Heral’c
were added in, though most of those who reached lifeboats had been rescued. The losses in battle had been high, but could have been far worse.

“I’ve seen the report you gave to Weston,” she said, “about the old legends. He seems to think that they’re involved, but I need to know your thoughts.”

Tanner looked troubled—not that she blamed him—as he considered her words.

“I will be honest, Admiral. I do not know. Legends are . . . legends,” he said. “They are not supposed to show up one day and announce themselves with lasers and monsters.”

“No argument there.”

“However, whether these be legends or not, they have announced themselves with lasers and monsters, and my people are at a loss for how to handle that,” he admitted. “We have been at peace for . . . ever.”

“Not forever, Admiral,” she said. “No one designs the ships you had in your archives without having an enemy to goad them on. You may not remember it, but you were fighters once. All survivors are.”

“Perhaps, but are we that now? Can we be so again?” Tanner asked helplessly. “I do not know.”

“Imitate the action of the tiger, Admiral,” she told him. “Summon up the blood. It will remember.”

►►►

AEV
Odysseus

► Eric watched as the alien lander barreled into the flight deck faster than he would have preferred, but he knew that the Priminae trusted automated systems more than he did. The craft slowed to a halt just meters away from him. He stiffened to attention as the Marines behind him followed suit.

The short and slim Rael Tanner stepped off first, followed by Amanda Gracen, both in their respective uniforms.

“Admirals on deck!”

Eric and the row of Marines all saluted in unison as the admirals surveyed them.

“As you were.” Gracen spoke softly but with enough volume to carry as she walked toward Eric.

“Commodore,” she continued as he relaxed marginally, “you can’t seem to help but step in it, can you?”

“In my defense, Admiral, I believe that my mission brief this time actually specified that I should ‘step in it,’” he said.

“So it did. Well, then, good work,” she responded dryly before motioning toward the far side of the deck where the lifts were.

Eric nodded. “This way, Admiral.”

►►►

► “What’re your thoughts on the Imperials, Commodore?” Gracen asked once they were in the
Odysseus
’ conference room. “Alliance Command wants everything you’ve got, yesterday.”

“I’ll have a record of everything we scanned during the fight arranged for you to take back,” Eric said. “As to my personal impression, they’re rigid fighters. Skilled but dependent on a distinct chain of command. Very little flexibility, if this fight is typical of their deployments.”

“How so?” Tanner asked, curious.

“We think we took out their command structure in the fight,” Eric said. “The effect wasn’t noticeable at first. They fight well, and with a crisis on the table they held it together, but once the engagement passed . . . they lost cohesion very quickly.”

“Huh, that’s not something I’d expect out of a technologically superior, more ancient culture,” Gracen mused. “Command should have devolved to the next in line automatically. A decent network should have assured that.”

“And I’m certain they
have
a very good network,” Eric said, “but I think we’re looking at an Empire in more than just name. We’ve gotten bits and bobs out of the prisoners we rescued, nothing actionable, but I think they have a nobility structure, not only in their government, but also in their military.”

Gracen blinked. “That’s . . . I don’t even know what that is.”

“I know.” Eric nodded. “If they’re running nobles as their top officers, then the underclass may not be
able
to respond to new situations effectively in their absence.”

“That’s going to throw our cultural analysts into a tizzy,” Gracen said.

“The Priminae have never had a system like this,” Tanner said, perplexed. “I am not certain I understand the implications.”

“It means that they’re going to react very differently than a Terran, or even Priminae, group would,” Gracen said. “In many ways, we have more in common with you than with them. An imperial system, if the captain is right about our foes, can be
very
effective when properly managed. However, they’re only going to be as good as their commanders.”

Eric nodded. “We, on the other hand, build from the ground up. Our lower-ranking people are often at least as good as their commanders and can do the job if they have to. If I’m being honest, the imperial system . . . When it’s good, it’s potentially better than we can field. However, we won’t be crippled by an idiot getting into our command structure. They’ll take a heavy hit in effectiveness in the same situation, and nobility systems are notorious for breeding fools in the high ranks.”

“I see,” Tanner said. “This is very interesting, but I believe that what most concerns me isn’t their culture, I am afraid.”

“No, that’s true,” Gracen said. “This could be vital information, but we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

Eric had to agree.

Of all the information they’d recovered so far, the one thing they all wanted—no,
needed
to know—was the one thing that none of their prisoners had been willing to speak on.

The elephant in the room, the question none of the three wanted to voice, still remained.

How big of an Empire were they really dealing with?

►►►

Impear Coron, Imperial Capital System

► Captain Aymes walked stiffly alongside Lady Misrem Plotu, marching through the gates of the Imperial fortress and onto the smooth black metal where their shoes clicked loudly with each step.

“Be silent until spoken to,” Misrem told him. “I will handle this discussion.”

“Yes, My Lady,” Aymes said quietly.

They continued in toward the courts where their mission statement would be given, walking under the holographic representation of the 148 stars of the Imperial constellation.