No Honor in Death (42 page)

"Starboard shield down, direct hit on turret three."

"Come about ninety degrees port, keep engaging.  Mister Sanghvi, do you have a jump solution?"

"Not yet, sir.  Still working."  Beads of sweat stood out on the young officer's smooth forehead.

The quick destruction of the second troopship had raised a cheer throughout the frigate, but the momentary joy was giving way to grim determination in the face of the Imperial cruiser coming at them with guns blazing.  Each massive plasma round strained the already damaged shields, and shook the stressed hull, forcing a whining feedback through sensitive electronic circuits.  Already, cas-evac teams from the medical section were plying their trade.

"Jump solution sir!"  Sanghvi' voice sounded unnaturally high and youthful to his own ears.

"Helm, engage."

"Gone, by the demons!"  Urag swore, his last salvo rippling through emptiness, where seconds earlier there had been an enemy warship.  "Tracking through hyper space."

"The convoy commander wishes a word with you," Jhar overrode the Gun Master.  His tone told Brakal that he the call should be ignored.

"Deal with him, Jhar.  As soon as we have a fix on her course, the convoy commander can take what is left of his ships to hell, for all I care.  My interest lies with Dunmoore."

"Course fixed, Commander," Urag announced, as if on cue.  "She is headed for the outer asteroid belt."

"Hah!"  Brakal slapped his chair's right arm.  "We have her now!  My compliments to the convoy commander, Jhar.  Advise him to head straight for Cimmeria at best speed.  We shall punish the humans for their insolence."

"The ship has emerged, and is entering the asteroid field."

"Helm, take us to her."

Brakal let a smile of bloody anticipation play on his lips.  Jhar sensed the chase had passed beyond a simple contest between professionals.  Dunmoore had outwitted Brakal once too often and the strong-willed Commander had taken it very personally.

She had obliterated five ships in two days, a disaster the Council would find difficult to explain to the child Emperor and his Regent, especially since the origins of the debacle lay in Trage's incompetent handling of the Fleet, and his refusal to study the humans in order to defeat them.  The tactics Dunmoore had employed were simply beyond the understanding of those old fools at the Admiralty.  Now too, though it hurt Jhar to admit it, they appeared beyond Brakal's experience and understanding of this particular human.

Brakal's well-intentioned intrusion into what was by decree of the Admiralty none of his business, would only give Trage a perfect scapegoat to cover his failings.  It would have been better if the Commander had proceeded to his hunting grounds and ignored the convoy.  Thus, even its total destruction could not have been, by any stretch, laid at his feet.  But it was too late now.  Of five transports and three escorts, only two of the former and one of the latter remained.  The convoy commander would pay for his failure, of course, even though he was clearly outmatched by the humans' cunning.  Regrettably, so would Brakal and his followers, and that presented a greater peril to the Empire than the wasteful deaths of two Imperial Regiments.

Death in battle with Dunmoore might be the only honorable way out for us.  Even if we destroy her, the
Tai Kan
will just as surely destroy us.

From his seat, Brakal could not see these thoughts cross his Second's face.   Had he seen them, he would not have understood Jhar's gloomy outlook on the future.  The Commander had but one objective right: destroy the woman who had out-smarted him, and prove that he was still the scourge of the Fleet.

"He's on our tail, sir."

Siobhan smiled.  "Still reacting, is he.  Good."

"Surely you do not intend to try the convoy again?"

"Have no fear, Number One.  The convoy is safe.  We took from it what was necessary: the two troopships.  No, now I intend to lead Brakal a merry chase through the asteroid field.  The advantage of his greater weight of guns is more than balanced by our better agility among the debris.  We still have two missiles left, our main guns and a brace of mines.  All we need is a disabling shot, and we're home free."

Pushkin's expression proved him to be less than sanguine about their chances.  But his job was to provide a foil for his commander, play the devil's advocate and ensure she did not plunge head-long into assured destruction.

"Consider this, Gregor, Brakal has been repeatedly stung by us.  We took five ships under his nose.  If I'm right, he's pissed-off at us by now, and angry commanders make mistakes."

"Are you angry, Captain?"  Pushkin softly asked.

"No.  Interested by his reactions, but not angry.  Brakal's tactical sense is good, especially for a product of the Shrehari Imperial Academy, and he has learned much from studying us.  That's what makes him such a danger.  But there's still one thing he hasn't cottoned to yet.  Any idea what that is, Gregor?"

"Not off-hand, Captain."

"No, maybe not.  It took me until now to figure it out myself.  Brakal's thinking of our ship in terms of his own.  He's not thinking of the differences, the relative advantages and disadvantages, and how to use them to best effect.  In fact, I do believe he's applying his cruiser's limitations to the
Stingray
.  That's where I'll get him."

Pushkin digested her statement in silence, wondering whether he'd ever make good frigate captain material if he couldn't match Dunmoore's sharp, deductive mind.  A touch of the old bitterness threatened to surface.  It showed in his eyes.

"Don't worry," Siobhan said, pitching her voice so only Pushkin heard.  "It takes a long time before you get the feel of this stuff.  I've had the advantage of two previous independent commands, a hell of a good teacher and an insatiable appetite for reading." 
And a bit of an ego,
she mentally added.

In silence, the two officers watched the main screen as Chief Guthren, a look of intense concentration on his face, steered the ship among the huge, dark rocks and planetoids, deeper into the asteroid field.

"We've lost contact, sir."

"Keep a good look-out, Chief.  We're going to manoeuvre into a good ambush spot, but it'll only work if we remain hidden by the asteroids."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Mister Guthren, forty-five degrees to starboard, down twenty.  Place us in the shadow of the kidney shaped rock immediately off our starboard bow, about one kilometre from the surface.  When we're there, hold position.  Mister Pushkin, we'll go silent then."

"She has vanished among the rocks, Commander."

"Hmm."  Brakal rubbed his jaw, a signal to Jhar that he was beginning to feel the strain.  "Take us to her last known position.  Urag, keep a sharp look-out.  She is waiting for us somewhere in there."

And she has the advantage
, Jhar bleakly realized.  As she has all along.  It was a new feeling for Jhar and the other officers, one they did not enjoy.

The asteroids stopped moving on the screen, as the
Tol Vakash
's steering thrusters slowed the cruiser to the velocity of the orbiting debris.  Human mining colonies once dotted the area, but they had been destroyed during the invasion.  The Empire had not seen any profit in re-opening them.  Just as the Empire saw no profit in studying the enemy.

It is run by blind fools
, Jhar reflected with disgust.  But were it run by better men, this war would never have happened.

"Nothing, Commander."  Urag's tone spoke of disgust masking a growing sense of worry.  Though his loyalty to Brakal remained undimmed, he wondered whether the Commander had finally met his match.

So it is to be a fog and night battle,
Brakal smiled, oblivious to his Gun Master's doubts. 
Two opponents stumbling blindly among massive obstacles, moving on instinct, on the abilities of their respective commanders.  A true test of skill.

"Helm, vertical movement, ten
vraksash
, then full stop.  She waits for us.  Near, very near."

"He should be at our last know position just about now."  Siobhan's eyes had lost focus as she let her instincts reach out for Brakal.  "Cox'n, pivot the ship one-hundred degrees port, facing the asteroid."  Then, "Thrusters, positive zee.  Take us slowly over the horizon."

Ahead, close enough to touch, the dark, pitted surface of the moonlet passed by as the ship rose out of the shadow.  Pushkin suddenly remembered Dunmoore's tolerance for useless manoeuvring when the tugs released them aft of Starbase 31.  Now, he could see why she had acted as she did.  Dunmoore wanted to know how deft a touch the Cox'n could bring to the massive warship's helm.  With only one kilometre separating them from the ragged surface of the asteroid, less than twice the frigate’s length, they needed a better than average steering.

"Guns, stand-by for full broadside."  The Captain's voice had acquired that smoky, chilling tone again.  Pushkin suddenly knew the enemy would appear in their sights over the asteroid's short, jagged horizon.

"Cox'n, reduce rate of climb, stand-by for negative zee.  All available power to bow shields."

When it came, it was as unexpected for everyone except Dunmoore.  "Contact!  One hundred kays off the starboard bow."

"FIRE!"  The ship shook under the pressure of her own broadside.  "Cox'n, negative zee, ninety degrees to port."

Guthren responded quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid the
Tol Vakash
's return fire, even though Gun Master Urag had been a few seconds slower than Lieutenant Amiri, his opposite number.  The
Stingray
groaned under the impact of plasma.  Then, the two ships lost sight of each other again.

"Cox'n, asteroid thirty degrees of to port, at fifty-thousand kays.  Slip under it, then come to starboard."

For the next half-hour, the
Stingray
led a merry chase through the dense debris field, dodging asteroids and Brakal's guns.  Twice, however, the wily Shrehari had scored painful hits on the frigate's stern and the casualty list aboard the
Stingray
lengthened, as did the repair list Tiner and her engineers faced.  Amiri's gunners had replied shot for shot, but the two ships were never in contact long enough to evaluate the damage.

The tension on the
Stingray
was almost too painful to endure, and Chief Guthren bore the brunt of it.  He perspired freely now, grunting every now and then as he threaded a way between the massive, jagged rocks, avoiding collisions by the minute.  Siobhan, like any good chess player, tried to stay a few moves ahead, but all too often, she had to rely on her poker player's skills and make snap decisions without knowing what perils lay on the new tack.

Brakal, smarting from his inability to take the initiative, was gaining a new appreciation for the old frigate's agility and her helmsman's deft touch.  He began to realize the scope of his misjudgement as Dunmoore slipped from his grasp time after time, forcing him to sail the cruiser to the limits of its manoeuvrability.  If only the Cimmeria Assault Force were nearby.  With two or three ships, he could cut the humans off and destroy them.  Alone, it was like hunting the laughing
jakarl
and the thought that Dunmoore was thumbing her nose at him did little to calm his temper.

This was not the cool, well-planned and forcefully executed plan of attack he had grown used to.  Every hit from the frigate's guns was another painful reminder of Dunmoore's superior cunning.  No one dared exercise his wit on the
Tol Vakash
's bridge any more.  The game had become much too serious and, Jhar knew, much too frustrating for a crew used to victory.  Gun Master Urag fired again, and again missed the frigate as it dodged behind an asteroid, a fraction of a second too fast for the Shrehari's reactions.

But the game could not last.  In the end, the
Stingray
would suffer defeat from a stern chase.  She simply did not have the weight of guns.  The humans might take the cruiser down with them, but that was small comfort to the crew.  And the Cimmeria ships might appear at any moment, spelling the frigate's doom.

On the
Stingray
's bridge, the officers, non-coms and ratings worked their stations and waited with growing unease for their Captain to act, to spring some surprise on the pursuing cruiser, something which would permit them to run for safety.  But Siobhan, eyes narrowed in concentration, plotted a route ever deeper into the densest part of the asteroid field, increasing their peril from a slight miscalculation by the tiring Cox'n.  She was looking for that elusive volume of rock-filled space where the frigate's greater agility would change from mere advantage to devastating superiority.  It was all they had.

A tight, tunnel-like path between slowly spinning rocks opened to port as they passed a large planetoid.  It was what Siobhan had been looking for.  She almost sighed with relief.

"Eighty degrees to port.  Take us through that corridor, Mister Guthren, nice and slow."  Someone gasped in dismay at the order, for their path seemed too narrow, too dangerous even for a helmsman of proven ability, especially at speed.  "Mister Amiri, prepare to drop two mines.  Flash-sensing fuses."