Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (33 page)

“Is
that true?” Archduke Dunmore asked anxiously.  “You never secured the return of
our ships?”

Wallace
blew out a long breath before answering.  “My Lord, retaining disabled ships is
sacrosanct.  Insisting upon negotiating for the right to retrieve ships unable
to dive after the battle is so petty that it borders on pedantic.  She’s
bluffing.”

His
superior raised his eyebrows skeptically but remained silent.

“Now,
if you will permit me, Archduke, I must win your battle.”  Wallace turned away
from the CEO and weighed the tactical situation.  “Damien, have the van turn to
starboard five degrees.”

The
two fleets were 122
ls
apart and racing toward each other with a closure
rate of .28
c.
  The speed was acceptable but the virtual collision course
was not.  Wallace measured his options while his orders were carried out over
the next two minutes.

By
the time his van had adjusted its course, the two fleets had reduced the
distance between them to 53
ls
.  Over the next thirty seconds, he
witnessed the Seshafian vanguard turn to port by five degrees.

Wallace
grumbled to himself as the fleets returned to an intercept course.  “Starboard
eight degrees and four degrees into the positive plane.”  The maneuver would
not only take his fleet wide of the Seshafians but over them as well.  If he timed
it right, he could bring his fleet down on the second half of the Seshafian
line and decimate not only their rearguard but also their main.

The
command took one hundred fifty seconds to execute, bringing the fleets to 47
ls
from contact.  The Seshafian response came quickly, before his rearguard had even
a chance to settle upon its new course.

“They’re
going to intercept us again, Admiral,” Ladd warned.

Wallace
cursed physics.  “That damned woman is commanding from the main while we’re
stuck two light-minutes from the battle.”  He spat vulgarity before ordering,
“All ships wheel to starboard ninety degrees, abort the run and come to course zero-nine-zero.” 
His hands ached as his grip on the edge of the command console tightened.

Over
the next two minutes and forty-seven seconds, Wallace watched his fleet
scramble to avoid contact.  They were successful, but the Seshafian fleet had
come alarmingly close to obtaining stern shots against his retreating
vanguard.  The exposure flushed Wallace’s cheeks red with anger, and embarrassment.

“Damien,
move the command ship closer,” he ordered.  “I need less time lag to have a
chance to outmaneuver her.”

Over
the next ten minutes, the fleets reset into line ahead formations and
maintained their distances.  The processionals circled each other until, like a
medieval joust, a knight tipped his lance and spurred his horse.

“Have
the fleet make their course two-three-eight, same plane and speed,” he
ordered.  Wallace only had to wait thirty seconds to see the light from the
battlefield this time.  As predicted, the Seshafian fleet settled onto an
intercept course.

“Not
much room for maneuvers,” Ladd summarized.

“Regrettably,
no,” Wallace agreed.  “What else would you expect from barbarians?”

“There
is a certain poetry to it.  It’s candor,” his assistant observed.  “So long as
she is willing to accept a brutal engagement, there’s not much we can do to
change that.”

“Her
lack of skill is counterbalanced by the time lag I must suffer through.” 
Wallace’s shoulders dropped with the admission.  “I cannot dance with an
unwilling partner.  The best I can manage is to minimize a run that destroys us
all by ordering Admiral Lane to use her best judgment to avoid a direct pass.”

“They’ve
taken the initiative from us,” Ladd muttered.

“Did we ever have
it?” Dunmore asked derisively near the edge of the holo-tank.

*  *  *

Vernay
watched the fleets hurdle toward each other.  There had been no Saden response
to her course change for over a minute now, easily enough time for Wallace to react. 
“This is it,” she said while tightening her shocksuit restraints.

“Entering
missile range in two minutes,”
Ajax’s
weapons officer informed.  “Point
defense is ready.”

Vernay
stared at the second-rate sailing majestically toward her ship.  The damage
Formidable
had sustained from
Dioscuri
had marred her bow and her battle face, but
she would still live up to her name. 
Thank God I’m facing her,
Vernay
thought. 
I’d never forgive myself if I hadn’t shared the risk.
 She had
distilled her tactics to base elements: point directly at the enemy and do not
flinch.  Vernay knew that entering a game of maneuvers against Oliver Wallace
would be a losing proposition for her fleet.  She possessed neither the skill
nor the experience to duel with him in a contest of movement.  Instead, she had
sought to negate his advantage by simply sailing a direct course toward her
opponents, regardless of consequence. 
It’s going to be a bloodbath,
she
thought grimly,
but at least it’ll be one for both sides.
  She recalled
how she had felt as a junior grade lieutenant on
Anelace
overtaking the
final pirate ship in Skathi, knowing that the length of the engagement would
last far longer than the hull of her ship.  She had been frightened back then,
asking for just one more miracle, but she had also been staunchly proud,
knowing that her actions would save the lives of fellow Brevic citizens.  She monitored
the gravely silent command frequency and thought of
Anelace’s
captain.

“One-MC,
Sam,” she ordered as she simultaneously activated the command net.  “Attention,
defenders of Seshafi.  In ninety seconds, we’ll enter combat.  The course I’m
taking us on will ensure this will be the final pass.  It will determine
whether our loved ones live free or under the yoke of a foreign invader.  We
privileged few have been given this critical moment in time.  Recognize it.  Seize
it.  History will surely remember how we faced it.  I am
honored
to call
myself a Seshafian today.  Vernay out.”

She
looked at Ricot, who returned her nod with a look of reverence.  The unspoken respect
was mixed with an awe that startled Vernay but also made her beam.  “I know
you’re going to fight the ship wonderfully, Sam.  You’re ready for this.”

Her
first officer shivered.  “Thank you, Captain.”  He purposefully articulated each
of his next words.  “I won’t let you down.”

A
strobe of light on
Ajax’s
tactical plot heralded a successful missile
intercept by
Hawk
.  The brig’s adversary,
Triumph
, had only been
able to muster a single, pitiful shot from her forward-most missile port. 
Thirty seconds later, as Covington’s van dipped inside laser range, Ricot
announced incoming missiles from
Formidable
.

Vernay pushed the
chatter aside. 
Ajax
was more than capable of defending itself; countless
point defense drills had assured her of that.  Focusing on the fleet instead,
she caught the Sadens veering to starboard during the seconds before the
vanguards let loose their GP turrets.  “Compensate!” she ordered inside the
command channel.  “Main and rearguard, thrust to port!  We will not be denied.”

*  *  *

The
ships of the two fleets entered the final engagement as proud, deadly
instruments of humanity.  The lucky survivors exited as burning hulks spewing
scrap.  The less fortunate vessels eclipsed the brightness of Seshafi’s star
during the final milliseconds of their lives.

Vernay
did not call for damage reports immediately following
Ajax’s
pass.  The
gaps between ships on the tactical plot spoke volumes of the destruction
achieved during the combat run.  Covington’s brig had somehow defied the odds
and survived, although
Hobelar
, an Iron Brigade snow, had not.  McDaniel,
the stout privateer captain on
Uhlan,
had already signaled surrender in
concert with his sole remaining snow,
Sowar
.  The capitulations would
make no difference; the entire Saden van, although intact, staggered away from
the slaughter with lights already extinguished.

Vernay’s
section tolerated the pass slightly better than her vanguard.  In the
background, Lieutenant Commander Ricot was demanding
Ajax’s
status from
his crew but Vernay already knew that nothing short of her destruction would
cause
Ajax’s
lights to fade.  The ships following,
Falcon
and
Tigre,
were ravaged and spitting debris but already attempting to close the space in their
ranks created by
Fame’s
destruction.  The miracle of the pass had been
spent on
Honor
.  The tiny corvette at the tail of the main had not only knocked
her rival snow from the fight but also limped away, though with heavy damage.

On
the opposite side of the balance sheet, Lieutenant Jaynee Baldwin’s foe,
Trite
,
had been set afire.  The bow of the ship was a writhing mass of flame that rolled
over formerly sleek lines.  Ahead of the dying snow, her sisters,
Hero
and
Sultan
, calved pieces from their hulls.  The section’s new lead
ship,
Superb
, sailed with blackened gouges riding down the length of her
beam.  Entirely absent from the Saden main was
Formidable
.

The
tale of carnage was retold in the rearguard.  The Saden line had stomached the
short-ranged pass given its superior numbers but had still taken a brutal
pounding from the three Hollaran snows. 
Excellence,
the section’s
leader, sailed blindly forward, unable or unwilling to follow the Saden main’s
turn to port.  The three snows behind the Saden lead ship fought valiantly to
weather the tide of damage beaten into their hulls.  After several minutes of
effort, the trailing snow’s lights flickered and died.

The
price for their submission had been steep.  Vernay reeled from reality’s punch
upon discovering that
Ravana
was no more.  The blow stole her breath and
crushed her heart.  Only
Rindr
and two-thirds of
Anakim
remained.

Vernay
recoiled from the horror of it all.  The pure annihilation that had played out
over the last minute threatened to overwhelm her senses.  The logical part of
her knew that she had witnessed far worse destruction in Sponde, Helike and
Kale. 
But this was my doing,
she confessed. 
My fault.
 The
truism kicked her gut once more.

“Captain,
I have a damage report,” Ricot offered from her left.

She
looked at him with solemn eyes.  “Are you recommending striking our lights,
Sam?”

“We
should,” Ricot conceded.  “But no, I am not.”  He smiled at her.  “We’re with
you, Captain.  To the end.”

The
look of commitment brought gooseflesh to Vernay’s arms. 
I’ve taken these
people to the pits of Hell.  How can he look at me like that after all this
ruin? 
A thought knocked her from the self-loathing. 
This is what we
gave Garrett: complete devotion. 
She shuddered and demanded to herself,
Don’t
waste it, Stacy.

Vernay
activated the communication controls.  “All ships, come right to zero-two-zero,
same plane.  Maintain point one-four-C.  Ship captains, please provide your
ship’s status as soon as possible.  Ships striking their lights, thank you for
your service and please clear the combat zone as soon as practical.”  She
waited half a beat before adding, “Captain Covington, Hawk is all that’s left
in the vanguard.  Can you maneuver well enough to form up with the main?”

The
response came from a lieutenant whom Vernay did not recognize.  “Negative,
Captain,” the disembodied voice answered.  “Hawk can’t maneuver yet.  We’ve
taken heavy damage to Engineering and our inertial compensators are failing. 
If we turn right now, we’ll break apart.”

“Who
is this?” Vernay asked.

“I’m
Lieutenant Wheeler in Auxiliary Control.  Captain Covington was hurt when the
bridge got hit.  His last order was not to surrender under any circumstance but
that was before our damage reports came in.  We need at least an hour to work
on the compensators.”

“Tigre
just struck, Captain,” Ricot interrupted, pointing to the wall screen.

All
that’s left is Ajax, Falcon, Rindr, Anakim and Honor
, Vernay counted. 
Five ships. 
She depressed the comm button.  “It’s okay, Wheeler.  Hawk performed
magnificently… the entire vanguard did.  We can take it from here.”

“Captain
Covington’s last order…”

“Strike your lights,
Hawk,” Vernay responded.  “It’s all right.  Captains Williams and Harris, have
Rindr and Anakim close with the main.  We’re going to consolidate everyone into
a single section.”

*  *  *

“It’s
over.”  Wallace’s eyes watched the holographic ships converge into an orderly
line.  He focused on the large, lead ship.  It was the only line ship remaining
in the contest.

“But,
but, Viscount,” Ladd stuttered.  “We have an equal number of ships, and Deft
has yet to take damage.”