Knight's Move (53 page)

“I don't want to say we’re surrounded,” Sandy said, through the command network, “but we’re being fired on from all sides.”

Glen smiled as
Dauntless
shot back in all directions.  The enemy craft were trying to pummel his ship into debris, but as long as
Dauntless
kept moving it was hard for them to trap her.  If they were anywhere else, they would probably have retreated by now, yet the Bottleneck System was difficult to leave without carefully finding a safe chink in the energy storms caused by the Great Wall.  They had to stand and fight ...

Dauntless
shuddered as something blew through her shields.  Red icons flared up on the status display, reporting minor damage to the lower hull.  Glen glanced at it, noted that repair crews were already on the way, then turned his attention back to the battle, just as Helena took them right at one of the enemy ships.  The destroyer turned to flee, but it was too late; Cooke hammered the ship into scrap, then blew whatever remained of it into vapour. 

For a long moment, they were in clear space.  And then the enemy resumed their attack.

“Heavy damage, section Phi-Alpha-Rho,” Sandy reported, after two more missiles slammed into the starship’s hull.  “Two drive nodes gone, sir; not a hope of replacing them in time.”

Glen cursed.  If they lost one more drive node – and losing two would put a great deal of stress on the rest of the ship’s nodes – they would lose a third of their speed.  And if
that
happened, they were dead.  The enemy would pound them until they lost the ability to maintain a shield, then blow the ship apart.

But they won’t be able to get away so easily now
, he thought, looking at the enemy ships on the display.  At the very least, half of them would need urgent attention in a shipyard before they could go back into action.  God alone knew where they would
find
a shipyard after everything they’d done. 
We might have stopped them completely ...

An enemy light cruiser came around, firing directly into
Dauntless’s
prow shield.  Cooke returned fire, hammering the light cruiser, then breaking off a moment before the two ships would have collided.  Point-blank combat was rare; even the Dragons, normally keen to get to grips with their foes, avoided it.  It was just too unpredictable.  But there was no alternative, not now.  They had to cripple or destroy as many enemy ships as possible ...

Dauntless
shuddered again, worse than before.  “Captain, we just lost a third node,” Sandy said.  “Our drive field is being reconfigured, but we won’t be able to make full speed.”

“I know,” Glen said.  A cold chill ran down his spine as he saw the enemy craft closing in for the kill.  They knew
Dauntless
couldn't escape now, even though she could still hurt them.  “It's been a honour.”

“We stopped them,” Sandy said.  “They won't be threatening any more worlds ...”

Glen shook his head.  Losing the ship hurt, although – as a morbid part of his mind reminded him – he was unlikely to live any longer than his ship.  And it would be better to lose the crew rather than have them fall into raider hands.  But the war might still go ahead, no matter
Dauntless’s
sacrifice.  If they’d failed to stop the war, he and his crew would have died for nothing ...

“Lock weapons on target, then bring us about,” he ordered.  If nothing else, they were going to rend and tear the enemy on their way to the gallows.  “Channel all power to weapons and shields.  Take us right down their damned throats.”

He'd wondered if he had it in him to be a starship commander.  Now, he realised, he would never know.

***

Jason
felt a flush of cold victory as the enemy cruiser jerked, then slowed as she frantically reconfigured her drive field.  Not even the TFN’s obsession with over-engineering its ships could save her now.  And, after everything he’d lost, he would at least have the satisfaction of destroying the cruiser before he went into hiding.  God knew that none of the warlords would want what remained of his fleet.

Wounded, the Federation cruiser was still dangerous.  But she was vulnerable.

“Target missiles on her hull,” he ordered.  There was no point in closing to energy range, not now.  “Fire at will.”

His smile twisted into a sneer.  Their backers would be delighted.  If the cruiser died, seemingly at the hands of the Colonial Militia, war would be inevitable.  But he could feel nothing, apart from the grim certainty that his career was at an end.  He would just have to hide, perhaps change his name and ship out as an ordinary spacer ...

He looked over at Mr. Ford.  If the man felt anything, it was well-hidden.  His face showed no expression at all.

***

“Enemy ships are locking weapons on our hull,” Cooke reported.  “They’re closing to engagement range.”

“It’s been a honour,” Glen said, out loud.  “Prepare to engage ...”

“Portals opening,” Cooke snapped.  “Multiple portals!”

***

Jason felt his jaw drop open.  The last update Mr. Ford had given him had placed the Bottleneck Squadron firmly at Fairfax and that had been just before they’d entered the Bottleneck.  Now, even if the ships had set off at once, they would still be an hour away ... who the hell had intervened? 

“Reading thirty-one starships,” Dana said.  She sounded stunned, as stunned as Jason felt.  “IFFs make them out as Colonial Militia.”

There was a pause.  “Sir,” she said, “they’re demanding our surrender.”

“Out of the question,” Mr. Ford said.

“They’re promising to let us live,” Dana said.  She wasn't known for caring if she lived or died, but the others wouldn't feel the same way.  “All we have to do is surrender.”

Jason shook his head.  “Take us away from the cruiser, straight towards the closest safe zone,” he ordered.  “Now!”

But he already knew it would be futile.  The colonial militia would run them down long before they could open a safe portal into hyperspace.  Trying to open one now would, if they were lucky, fail completely.  If they were unlucky, the resulting explosion would destroy his ship.

“Sir,” the helmsman said, very carefully, “we cannot hope to escape.”

Jason hesitated.  He could count on Dana, but who else would fight for him when even victory would bring certain death?  Mr. Ford was an unknown; he knew better than to think that the remainder of the crew would be loyal, no matter the size of their pay checks.  One couldn't spend money if one was dead.

“Contact them,” he ordered.  “Tell them that we will surrender.”

***

Sandy sighed in relief as the Colonial Militia starships closed in on the raiders.  She’d contacted her father and begged for help, but there had been no reply, no way of knowing if the militia were on their way or not.  If her father had chosen to attack the Bottleneck Squadron instead, war would have been inevitable.  After a certain point, she knew, the truth would no longer matter.

“Thank you, father,” she breathed. 

***

Mr. Ford had accepted certain requirements for his job when he’d accepted it.  One was a large amount of conditioning, forcing him to take certain steps in certain eventualities; another, more serious, was a surprising amount of augmentation.  It didn't bother him as much as he had expected, although that might have been a result of the conditioning.  After all, his family would inherit his substantial bank account after his death.

He was not surprised that the mercenaries wanted to surrender.  They were not loyal, nor would they have accepted conditioning, if it had been offered.  If they confessed to everything, they might just be able to enjoy their own savings one day.  Mr. Ford doubted it, but he wasn't the sort of person to take chances.  Nor were his backers.

Quite calmly, he uploaded the destruct command into the starship’s computer network and closed his eyes, waiting.

***

Jason
felt his mouth drop open as the self-destruct system came online.  A moment later, he swung around to stare at Mr. Ford.  Their backer was sitting on his seat, his eyes tightly closed.

“You bastard,” he shouted.  He should have known that their backers had taken precautions, even if they’d checked the ships
thoroughly
for hidden surprises.  “What have you ...?”

Deep inside the bowels of the ship, matter met antimatter. 
Havoc
disintegrated in a brilliant flash of light. 

***

“Enemy ships destroyed,” Cooke said.  “Captain, they self-destructed.”

“Odd,” Glen said.  In his experience, raiders and privates were rarely unwilling to surrender if they were promised their lives.  They were hardly brave enough to fight when there was a way out.  “Stand down from red alert, then raise the station.  We need to explain what happened here before it’s too late.”

“They sent a signal just before they destroyed themselves,” Danielle said.  Her face twisted into a puzzled frown as she worked her console.  “But it was omnidirectional.  Everyone within a hundred years will have heard it.”

Including someone lying silent and waiting
, Glen thought, coldly.  The unknown ship would slip off into hyperspace, without anyone even catching a sniff of its presence.  Assuming, of course, that he was right.  The raider backers could easily have established a listening post on a settled world.  A passive sensor would go completely unnoticed, even if it was parked next to a naval base.

He stood.  “Commander Mannerheim, you have the bridge,” he said.  “Coordinate with the station; see what they can do to help with repairs.  I need to talk to the Governor.”

***

Governor Chandra Wu stared down at the message from Bottleneck, then looked up at Windy.  Her PR representative and manager looked uneasy; she knew that something had gone very wrong, something bad enough to justify a scapegoat or two being fired.  Chandra could practically see the thoughts running through the woman’s head, but there was no time to soften the blow.  No time at all.

“I need to find Harrison,” she said.  If the accusations were accurate ... she’d been played for a fool.  Her career would pay the price.  “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Windy said.  She wilted under the Governor’s unforgiving stare.  “He just walked out of the building and vanished.”

Chandra threw the datapad to the floor, then turned to look out at the angry crowds besieging Government House.  They looked threatening – she hadn't seen so many weapons in one place since an ill-fated review of the Federation Marines – but she knew Harrison Montgomery.  He could probably make his way through them without being even remotely deterred.  And then ... he could be anywhere on Fairfax.  Hell, he might even have managed to slip off the planet, now that the Bottleneck Squadron was on its way back to Bottleneck.

“I’ve been made a fool,” she said, sourly.  Confessing that in front of Windy was a bad idea, no matter how much she trusted the woman, but she was too angry to care.  “We almost started a war.”

Windy said nothing.  She just waited.

“Get me the President,” Chandra snarled.  She hated the thought of eating crow, let alone admitting her flaws; politicians who confessed to flaws were rarely elected, although she’d yet to meet a flawless politician.  But her career was going down in flames anyway; the least she could do was try to manage the disaster.  Maybe, just maybe, she could salvage her career for the second time.  “I need to talk to him,
now
!”

Windy jumped, then leapt to obey.

Chandra sat back in her chair, thinking hard.  Montgomery hadn't been working for himself, she was sure; there was no way
he
could benefit from the whole affair.  No, he'd been working for someone else, perhaps someone out to ruin her career.  Or had she merely been the unlucky person in Government House when the plan had gone into operation?  There was no way to know, not really.