“Roger that, Captain,” the ship’s pilot said.
“All right, now we wait,” Victor said. And wait he did. For twenty minutes, he watched the missiles and destroyers approach on his tactical screen.
“Begin power up,” Victor said. The destroyers were now close enough and moving fast enough that they could do nothing to keep from drifting into range of the
Osprey
’s guns. Other than trying to destroy the
Osprey
before she got a chance to fire.
The lights brightened, and gravity returned. On his telemetry screen, the bars for the
Osprey
’s various systems climbed.
“Missile launch, lots of them!” Commander Dace turned to Victor. “I guess they’ve figured out we’re not dead.”
“I think you’ve guessed right, Commander,” Victor said. It would take several minutes for the new missiles to reach his ship. The first two missiles were a more immediate problem.
“How long until you can shoot down those missiles, Ryam?” asked Victor.
“PD guns will finish their cooldown in eight minutes, sir,” the gunnery officer said.
Victor gritted his teeth; the time to impact was less than nine minutes.
Come on, wake up, you big bird. You only need to fight for a little longer
. He tried to will his ship into powering up faster, but the bars seemed to move up slower while the missiles continued to approach faster and faster.
He forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing down the icy fear forming in his chest. His impending death did not worry him but rather the threat of failing and leaving Savannah, and his wife and son, to the mercy of the Lysandrans.
Victor became so focused on calming himself that he was startled when he felt his ship vibrate.
“PD guns firing!” Lieutenant Ryam said.
Streams of projectiles snuffed out both of the nearby Lysandran missiles.
The
Osprey
turned toward the incoming missiles and the destroyers that launched them and fired her thrusters at full power.
“Ryam, get rid of those destroyers as soon as they’re in range,” Victor said.
“You got it, Captain. Firing solutions plotted.”
The missile volley was two minutes out when the
Osprey
’s main guns fired a ten-round burst at each destroyer.
The destroyers attempted to evade, but their efforts were futile. The
Osprey
's guns ripped both vessels apart. Now it was just the missiles that remained.
“Evasive maneuvers!” ordered Victor.
Lieutenant Colletta lurched the
Osprey
over, keeping the drives at full power. A trail of decoys followed the
Osprey
as her vector moved away from the missiles.
Missile tracks on the tactical screen curved to follow the cruiser, though more than a few were homing in on decoys.
When the range closed, the
Osprey
vibrated as her PD guns fired. Missiles flashed from existence as the swarm was thinned out. Three missiles, then two missiles, then just one.
Something powerful slammed into the ship.
Victor was thrown forward and then blown back into his seat by a gale of air. Then
silence
.
Breathing was the only sound in his helmet, and the rapid beating of his heart was the only feeling his body registered. Only straps held him to his seat; artificial gravity was out. The only illumination came from the dull red emergency lighting.
Victor tried to check the damage to his ship, but his screen was blank. He turned to Commander Dace. His second-in-command’s helmet was gone, along with the top of her head. Blood and brains floated from the ruin of her skull, all cast black by the red glow of the emergency lights as they boiled in the vacuum.
Victor tried to jump away, but his restraints held him in his seat.
After a moment’s paralysis, he keyed the ship’s comm. “This…this is Captain Selan. Any surviving crew, report!” No one responded; when he tried again, he noticed the comms were down. Everything was down.
Victor unbuckled his seat restraints.
The bridge may not be functional, but perhaps engineering was intact
. If so, then he could still maneuver the ship.
Put it on a collision course with the shade, save Savannah, save Gina and Alex
.
Floating, he turned to launch himself toward the exit. But found none, not even a rear bulkhead. Out the back of the
Osprey
’s bridge, he saw only stars.
Chapter 3
A Lysandran ship docked with the remains of the
Osprey
and took prisoner Victor and the twelve surviving members of his crew. Once on board, he was relieved of his helmet and the variblade his father had given him.
Sharing a cell with his surviving crew, Victor sat with his hands manacled in front of him, lost in thought.
He had failed.
No way Savannah’s defenses could withstand the firepower of the fleet that had emerged from the Fersfield 23 jump point. Not with the bulk of the Republic Navy busy fighting around the Arcadia jump point a billion kilometers away.
“Captain?” asked Spacer Second Class Hale, a man who didn’t look more than twenty years old.
“Yes, Spacer, what is it?” Victor said.
“Do you think Savannah’s still fighting?” he asked. The answer he wanted to hear was etched on his face.
Victor didn’t give it to him. “No, Spacer. By now Savannah has surrendered. And we should hope that’s the case. Because I don’t want to see the homeworld bombarded from orbit. Do you?”
The hope drained from Hale’s face. “No, sir.”
Victor smiled. “Don’t worry, Spacer Hale—”
An Imperial Marine rapped the bars with an armored fist. “No talking!” she said.
Victor had to settle for nodding reassuringly at his crewman.
Eventually, though Victor wasn’t sure after how long, Lysandran guards escorted him with the survivors of his crew from their cell. However, they were separated from him, and the guards placed him on his own shuttle.
After a short flight, the shuttle docked with a Lysandran battleship. There he was taken to an interrogation room. It was all gray metal, with a matching table and two chairs in the middle. He sat with his hands manacled to the table.
It seemed pointless to interrogate him. They’d won. What could he possibly know that could be of value to them at this point?
When the door opened, however, it wasn’t a Lysandran interrogator who came in, but a lean woman who looked just a little too young for her blue Imperial admiral’s uniform, along with an armored Imperial Marine.
“Captain Selan,” she said.
“Admiral, sir.” Victor pulled at his manacles. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t stand and salute.”
She nodded and took a seat. “It’s quite fine, Captain. It’s good to see you haven't abandoned military courtesy in defeat.”
Victor shrugged. “Both my parents were naval officers. I guess I’m just hard-wired that way.” He squinted as he tried to place her face. Attractive, light brown hair, gray eyes. “Admiral Loris.”
“Ah, I see you know of me,” she said.
“I’ve read your dossier. Youngest full admiral in the Imperial fleet. Congratulations,” Victor said. Loris was barely eight years older than him.
She smiled. “Why thank you, Captain Selan. I have to say, I must applaud your efforts in trying to destroy the Shroud. You came distressingly close to succeeding.”
“But I didn’t,” Victor said. “Which begs the question, why did you decide to rescue me and my crew? It couldn’t have been from admiration.”
She shrugged. “You’re right. I decided against blowing up your ship because it was still on a collision course with the Shroud and moving fast enough to cause real damage. Instead I had my fastest corvettes fly out to nudge your cruiser’s debris into a less dangerous course. The fact there were survivors to rescue was purely incidental.”
Victor nodded. What was left of the
Osprey
had no doubt fallen into the sun by now. He remembered the name she used for the shade. “The Shroud, that was the thing you used to protect the jump point?”
“Yes, an inspired piece of engineering.” Her smile became lopsided. “Not to gloat, but it was my plan to use the Fersfield system as a back door. However, the credit for the Shroud belongs with the Imperial engineers who designed it and with the emperor for approving of its construction.”
“Yes, well…” Victor smiled sadly. “You certainly took us by surprise. I don’t suppose you could—”
“Inform you on the status of your world?” She nodded. “Your Republic surrendered not long after our fleet moved in on Savannah.” The look Loris gave Victor was almost sympathetic. “There was no bombardment of your homeworld.”
Victor nodded, relieved. “Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t be quite so grateful. I’m afraid you’re likely to spend a long time in a prison camp. Assuming you’re not tried and executed with your father.”
Victor looked down. “You mean, the terror attacks, right?” He sighed. “Is that why you’re speaking with me?”
“No, actually I just wanted to speak with one of the most infamous starship captains ever to wage war against our empire. You know you have more kills to your name than any other enemy combatant?” Loris asked.
“I’m aware of my combat record,” Victor said.
“You’ve gained quite a reputation among the ranks of the Imperial fleet. You’re not as well-known as your father, but neither are you hated the way he is. You’re quite well-respected, in fact. You were…unusually chivalrous in your commerce raiding.”
Victor shrugged. “The ships were valuable. Killing the crews would’ve just been a waste.”
“You’re a practical man, Captain Selan. And, dare I say, an honorable one too. So unlike your Republic,” Loris said.
Victor smirked. “The Lysandran Empire isn’t exactly a prime example of honorable conduct.”
That seemed to irritate the Imperial Marine standing behind Loris. He moved toward Victor but was stopped by Loris’ outstretched hand.
“Perhaps not,” she said. “This has been a…messy war. All the better it is over.”
“Maybe,” Victor said. It was hard to see the bright side of losing a war.
The door opened, and a junior Imperial fleet officer came in and whispered into Loris’ ear. Victor strained to listen but only heard unintelligible muffled sounds.
Loris dismissed the junior officer with a wave. “Ah, it seems I’m not the only one who wishes to speak with you, Captain Selan. Emperor Magnus has heard of your exploits and wishes to see you personally. This is quite an honor.”
The prospect of meeting the Lysandran emperor didn’t exactly appeal to Victor. The people of Savannah, Victor included, loathed Magnus Lacano. So much that, when each one of his sons died, celebrations would break out in the cities of Savannah. It was a well-justified anger. Magnus started the war because he thought the worlds of the Savannan Republic should belong to him.
Victor looked down at his pressure suit. “I’m not exactly dressed to meet an emperor.”
“No, but we can give you clean clothing to wear. I’m afraid we don’t have any Republic Navy uniforms, and it would be too much trouble to ship one aboard,” Loris said. She pulled out a tablet and pressed a button. Two marines, wearing duty uniforms instead of combat armor, walked in. “These two will take you to a cabin to get dressed. I’ll have a meal waiting for you. I’m sure you’re famished.”
“Much appreciated, Admiral Loris,” Victor said.
“It’s simple courtesy for an honorable foe. It…was a pleasure to meet you.” The admiral stood and left the room, followed by her armored bodyguard.
The two unarmored marines unlatched Victor’s manacles from the table and escorted him to a Spartan, but comfortable, cabin. True to her word, food waited for Victor. Fruit and a cold sandwich.
The hunger welling up in Victor surprised him, considering all he had been through over the past day or so. The idea of eating before meeting the Lysandran emperor, the man whose empire Victor had spent most of his adult life fighting, struck him as surreal. But his stomach didn’t care.
Victor’s guards removed his manacles and left the room, locking the door.
Before he really knew it, Victor sat down and devoured the food on the table.
After finishing his meal, Victor stripped off his suit and the sweat-soaked uniform under it. He then used the small shower stall in the corner. He didn’t use it for long, but not from consideration for Lysandran hot-water regulations. He was simply too anxious to luxuriate in the hot water.
After showering, Victor found a neatly folded uniform resting on the bunk. It was the blue of the Imperial Battlefleet rather than the gray of the Republic Navy, but it lacked any kind of ornamentation or insignia.
After a moment’s hesitation, Victor donned the uniform. It was clean and comfortable. Just to make sure he didn’t look too much like a Lysandran officer, Victor removed his rank pins and badges from his Republic Navy uniform and attached them to the Lysandran uniform.