New Frontiers (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 1) (13 page)

“Aye, ma’am,” Ellison said. He looked like he was about to say more but the tactical officer cut him off.

“Four missiles have struck home! Two targets destroyed, two adrift,” Adler said. “I’ve lost contact with the remaining two Shrikes.”

“And we’re too fast and close to launch the second wave.” Celesta slammed her fist down on her armrest. “Damn!” Her shout made everyone jump and look over.

“Two Darshik ships have moved in close to the
Amsterdam
, Captain,” Accari said. “Training long range optics on it now, they may be trying to grapple on and—whoa!” On the main display one of the Darshik ships, dwarfed by the mass of the
Amsterdam
, evaporated as the battleship actually thrusted laterally towards the target and opened up with all her starboard laser batteries. The concentrated fire shredded the smaller ship. “Target is destroyed, ma’am.”

“They won’t approach another Terran battleship that confidently again,” Celesta said. “OPS! Where the hell is my RDS?”

****

“Target vaporized, sir!”

“Helm! Engines to no-thrust and bring us about,” Captain Everett said sharply. “Put her nose back the way we came and rotate Y-axis ninety degrees to starboard. Tactical, that other ship is still coming in … you know what to do.”

“Aye aye, sir!” his tactical officer said. “Starboard batteries charged and ready to fire … ranging now … nineteen seconds until they’re close enough.”

“Let them have it at maximum range,” Everett said. “Their hulls can’t take the heat, and if they’re still coming close I have a feeling they’re after more than a handshake. They are
not
to take this ship. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” came a ragged chorus from the bridge crew that wasn’t fully immersed in their task.

“OPS, status on the
Icarus
?” Everett asked.

“Captain Wright says her RDS pod has failed and they can’t decelerate on the mains enough to be of any use,” the OPS officer said, reading the status one of the com officers had sent her. “The
Icarus
is overshooting our position and will be back as soon as they get the RDS reset and operational or when the mains can bring them about.”

“Firing!” the tactical officer called. “Multiple hull breaches … adjusting fire … target is coming apart, Captain!”

“Helm! Bring us back to our original course and orientation, engines ahead one-half,” Everett called out, his hands shaking from the excitement of battle.

“Coming about,” the helmsman said. “All engines ahead one-half, aye.”

“Tactical, clear our area!”

“Why was Wright running her RDS and main plasma engines at the same time?” Marcum asked quietly. “I thought the systems weren’t able to be engaged simultaneously.”

“I’ll ask her when this is over, Admiral,” Everett said, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Of course, Captain,” Marcum said after his face turned a few different shades of red, and he swallowed his retort with visible effort.

“We have two targets loitering out of range dead ahead,” the tactical officer reported. “The remaining five ships have disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Everett asked in disbelief. “How did they just—” He broke off and looked at Marcum in horror.

“Get the
Icarus
on an open channel now!” the admiral shouted at one of the com officers. “Broadcast it to the fleet.”

“Go ahead, sir,” the officer said.

****

“
Icarus, this is Captain Everett on the Amsterdam
,” the voice came over the bridge speakers. “
We have five unaccounted-for targets left. I believe they may have executed one of the intrasystem jumps they used against your taskforce to bypass our defensive perimeter and continue pursuing the last Ushin ship
.”

“We concur, Captain,” Celesta said. She was standing behind Lieutenant Commander Adler and looking at the target tracks, having already come to the same conclusion before the call came in from the flagship. “If you’re able to handle your two stragglers, we’re about to switch back over to our RDS and we’re already carrying a lot of velocity; we might be able to catch them.”

“
My thoughts exactly, Captain
,” Everett said. “
This goes for any other Fleet warships in the system … you are cleared to engage the enemy. If it isn’t Ushin or Terran, open fire and don’t let them approach close enough to grapple on. Watch the overlapping fire. Amsterdam out
.”

“Shit,” Barrett growled. “With everyone running weapons free at random vectors this system just turned into a shooting gallery.”

“Uh, Commander, the channel to the
Amsterdam
is still open,” Ellison said. “It’s just switched back to private ship-to-ship instead of on the Fleetwide channel.”

“
You disapprove of our tactics, Commander Barrett?
” the unmistakable voice of Admiral Marcum came over the speakers. Barrett gave Ellison a look that could have melted hull plating.

“We’re all just trying to figure out how to approach this with the least amount of collateral damage, Admiral,” Celesta answered before Barrett could.

“
What’s the Icarus’ status, Captain?
”

“The RDS pod flaked out … again … when we tried to decel into the engagement,” she answered. “We had too much—”

“
Yes, I heard all that
,” Marcum interrupted. “
I’m just curious how you’re running both of your main propulsion systems simultaneously
.”

“My chief engineer has developed a power interface that allows us to use the RDS while keeping the MPDs primed and ready, Admiral,” Celesta said. “Before that it was blowing power junctions out and creating an unacceptable hazard to my ship.”

“
I see
,” Marcum said. “
Do you think you can get it back up in time to catch those five ships? I won’t go into detail, Captain, but it is utterly vital that Ushin ship survives. With the New York still in berth you’re the only ship that can get there in time. Can you do it?
”

Celesta looked around the bridge for non-verbal status updates from a few of her crew before answering.

“Yes, Admiral. We can do it.”

“RDS responding normally to commands, ma’am,” the helmsman reported not even ten minutes after the conversation with Admiral Marcum.

“Very good,” Celesta said. “Nav! Set course for the middle of the Darshik formation. Tactical, you’re going to have to not only track the enemy ships but be aware of incoming fire from the Terran ships down near New Sierra’s orbit. OPS, you help her with that.”

“Course entered in and ready, Captain,” the nav station operator said.

“Come onto new course, all ahead flank.”

“RDS ahead flank, aye,” the helmsman said. “MPD main engines to zero thrust, plasma chambers still at operational levels.”

“Good, good,” Celesta said, grunting slightly against the acceleration of the reactionless drive as it overwhelmed their artificial gravity and inertial compensators. “Let’s keep them there for now since the RDS pod is a bit temperamental.”

She could only marvel at the power of the new drive as she watched the
Icarus
race past her old maximum real-space velocity on the main display and get there in a matter of minutes. Commander Graham had told her that he could remove the governors on the system and the drive could reach its top relative speed almost instantaneously, but it would kill all the crew and likely destroy the ship in the process. She allowed herself a moment of nostalgic regret as, even while flying into an engagement where they were badly outnumbered, she could see the end of an era approaching. The old plasma-burning starships were slow and ungainly for the most part, but they required a high degree of skill and coordination to fly, something Fleet spacers took great pride in. Even the retrofitted
Starwolf
-class ship with a drive pod bolted on under the aft almost flew itself. She had to assume the next generation of Terran ships would be even more capable and just as sterile, almost able to be operated by anybody. 

“Updating Shrike target packages, ma’am,” Lieutenant Commander Adler said. “Do you still want one per?”

“Fire two missiles per target,” Celesta said, checking the master armament status window on her terminal to see how many of the specialized munitions were left. “Have the crews reload all eight forward tubes; we’ll snap fire a second volley if it looks like it’s needed.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Adler said.

“Thirteen minutes until we’re in weapons range,” Accari reported. “Ushin ship has made it within the New Sierra defensive boundary; Darshik ships are slowing slightly.”

“Coms! Get on the Fleetwide and warn them that these Darshik ships might try to jump in behind their picket line,” Celesta said. “Are there any Black Fleet ships down there?”

“Two missile cruisers,” Accari said. “The
Solstice Wind
and the
Zephyr
, both Fourth Squadron.”

“Coms, order those two ships up off the line to flank the Ushin ship,” Celesta said. “Tell them if my authority isn’t good enough then they can take it on faith I speak for CENTCOM Chief of Staff at the moment.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Ellison said distractedly. The destroyer only had a single com officer, and although the com section in the CIC did manage a lot of the more mundane traffic it was still a lot for one person when it came to fast-developing operations that needed a lot of coordination.

“Ma’am, we’re within firing range,” Adler said.

“Hold your fire.” Celesta was looking at the threat board. The Darshik ships were still pursuing the Ushin down the system, but their forward velocity made it unlikely that their missiles would reach them in time before they hit the hastily assembled defensive perimeter. But the
Icarus
was quickly coming upon them and seemed to have a definite edge in real-space speed.

“Ma’am?”

“I said hold your fire!” Celesta said sharply. If she fired her Shrikes at maximum range they would leave the tubes, but their delta-V would be insignificant compared to the still-accelerating destroyer. “We’re going to hand-deliver these,” she said with a smile. “Helm, use your own judgment but I want you to drive this ship right into the middle of that enemy formation, all available power.”

“Aye, ma’am!” the helmsman said and reached for the manual controls. Like all starship pilots her helm operators were highly competent ship drivers, but in the modern Fleet they rarely did much more than enter course corrections into the computer and verify everything was responding as it should.

The
Icarus
shuddered slightly as the perhaps over-exuberant helmsman ran the RDS up past flank and bumped into the emergency power settings. Celesta let him go. This would either work or it wouldn’t. If the drive shit the bed … again … at the critical moment they would simply scream past the engagement and have to maneuver back around on conventional propulsion. Again.

She watched the range closely, the real-time and estimated positions on the display converging as they closed and lag time in their radar returns lessened. So far it looked like the Darshik were wholly focused on the Ushin ship and were largely ignoring her mad rush even though her ship was broadcasting with active sensors and coms. The enemy was arrayed in a loose phalanx and the
Icarus
was bearing down on the lead ship. Perfect.

“Tactical, target two Shrikes each on the four flankers,” she said. “Get ready to snap fire and then be ready with the forward laser batteries for the last one.”

“Target tracks are locked and ready, ma’am.”

Celesta just nodded as she watched the
Icarus
actually pass the outer ships, then the next in line, as she closed up on the tail of the leading enemy ship. Now that they were so close, relatively speaking, she saw her ship was travelling much, much faster than the Darshik.

“Fire!” she barked when she felt she was at optimal range. “Helm! Full stop!”

“Missiles away! Tubes reloading,” Adler said, grunting as the RDS reversed fields and the ship was being rapidly hauled to a stop in space. Celesta had to lean back and plant her feet in the carpet to keep from sliding out of her seat as the helmsman expertly ran the power up and back to keep a steady decel without creating a dangerous situation for the crew. The ship had almost come to a complete stop relative to New Sierra when the thing Celesta had been half-expecting happened. 

“RDS offline!” the helmsman called, eliciting groans of disgust from the rest of the bridge crew. “MPDs coming up now.”

“Two targets destroyed, one disabled, one undamaged,” Adler reported after ten tense minutes of watching the helmsman get the plasma engines configured for flight. “Lead ship has stopped and the outermost ship to the right is turning in. I think we have their attention, ma’am.”

“Helm, bring her to starboard forty degrees.” Celesta’s eyes never left the tactical display. They were all close enough now that the radar data was real-time. “Ahead full.”

“Ahead full, aye,” the helmsman reported.

“We saved the Ushin ship but we may be screwed.” Commander Barrett pointed to the accelerating Darshik ships. “Our plasma engines can’t match that rate of acceleration. They’ll catch us.”

“Yes, but the Ushin
and
New Sierra were saved,” Celesta said. “We can’t—”

“Flanking ship has just been destroyed!” Adler called. “Missile hit from one of ours.”

“Coms channel request coming in for us—”

“Put it through, Lieutenant Ellison,” Celesta interrupted.

“Captain Wright, this is Captain Lee aboard the
New York
,” the familiar voice said. “We have your last target in sight and are closing the range now. Your aft will be cleared momentarily.”

“Captain Lee, I owe you a drink when this is over,” Celesta said with relief. She would do her duty, but it didn’t mean she was necessarily happy with having to be the sacrificial lamb to accomplish a mission objective. “Happy hunting.”

****

“One ship escaped, sir,” Pike said as his own instruments corroborated what he was being told over the Link. “The
New York
took out the lead Darshik ship in the formation, but the last flanker the
Icarus
missed was able to skirt around and disappeared off radar.”

Wellington stirred in the copilot seat as if prodded. He’d actually managed to fall asleep in the middle of a battle, albeit as an observer. Augustus Wellington was not a young man nor a particularly healthy man, a lifetime of excess catching up with him as his skin sagged and his midsection swelled. Pike wasn’t the man’s caretaker, and he did understand the wisdom of making the powerful lifelong politician the new President to keep the other enclaves in line until the Federation—sorry, the
United
Federation—had its feet under it, but he wondered if the man was up to the job. Being President was basically signing up to have your life shortened by fifteen years from stress, and he wasn’t sure Wellington had fifteen left to give.

“I’m assuming we have no way to track the enemy ship that escaped,” Wellington stated, not actually asking a question. “We need to act fast on this. Did the bulk of Parliament make it out of the system?”

“No, sir,” Pike said. “The four cruisers made it away from New Sierra but they’re days away from their jump point.”

“Recall them.” Wellington hefted himself out of the seat. “Then get us back to the planet and have Admiral Marcum in my office the moment he can physically make that happen. Would it be faster to just pick him up on the way?”

“That … wouldn’t be advisable, sir,” Pike said carefully, thinking about the ramifications of blowing his cover.

“Whatever,” Wellington waved him off. “Just make all that happen. I’m going to try and get some sleep before we land … something that will certainly be in short supply once we start this off.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, Mr. President,” Pike said, “but start what off, exactly?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Mr. Lynch?” Wellington smiled humorously. “We’re going back to war, and far before we’re ready.”

Pike began entering the necessary commands to the fleet under his credentials that identified him as speaking for the President himself, a hard, cold lump forming in his stomach as he did. As an intelligence operative, and one that covered far more territory than most, he knew that Wellington’s quip was a vast understatement. The Federation had lost forty-eight percent of its territory to the splintered Eastern Star Alliance. That was half its planets, people, ships, and manufacturing capabilities. The Darshik were a defeatable, if inscrutable enemy that a full strength Starfleet might stand a chance of turning away, at least based on the strength they’d shown so far in the opening skirmishes. But Starfleet now consisted of the First, Fourth, and a severely battered and weary Black Fleet, officially designated the Seventh.

The ships were tired, the people were worn thin, and Pike had grave misgivings as to what might happen if the newly formed Federation decided their first official act was to send the Fleet back into the breach. He hoped when the history of man was written that the centuries of peace prior to the arrival of the Phage weren’t an anomaly as Captain Wolfe had often insisted, but the more they spread out the more they were finding that the galaxy wasn’t the quiet, friendly neighborhood it at first appeared to be.