Rich Man's War (60 page)

Then the hatch opened. Tanner snatched up his rifle, but recognized the Archangel uniforms coming through before he’d actually trained it on a target. He recognized the face of
the Navy rating, his broken faceplate practically hanging from his helmet, and a couple of the marines. “Sinclair?” he called, and then waved.

“Signalman,” said Thompson as Sinclair waved, “take a station.
Corporal,” he said to the marine, “take charge of the prisoner detail.”

Tanner kept looking over his shoulder as Sinclair moved over toward him. He grinned a bit as his boot camp squad leader took up a nearby station. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye—and out of Thompson’s line of sight, he noticed—the marine
corporal briefly slipped an arm around Alicia for about as much of a hug as they could risk. “Both of you,” Tanner added.

“Yeah,” Sinclair huffed. “Me, too. Bit off way more than we could chew back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Holding off a shitload of bad guys
tryin’ to come this way through a ladderwell. Just the handful of us,” Sinclair huffed. He gestured toward Collins. “That guy is fucking nuts.”

Looking back, Tanner saw Collins, Alicia and the other marines huddle to sort themselves out. Another familiar face turned his way.

Tanner gave DeLeon a conciliatory nod. DeLeon rolled his eyes and went back to his discussion.

“
Anyway,” Sinclair went on, “You have the helm?”

“I do, but somebody better at it than me should take over before I crash us into another ship.”

“Just keep slowing us down, Malone,” said Thompson, who now stood over the pair while Wagner joined his captured officers. “You’re doing fine. As long as we’re out of the fight, we’ve made a big difference. What’s your name, signalman?”

“Sinclair, sir.”

“Try to get us in touch with
Los Angeles
. Maybe
Rio
if you don’t pick up an answer. Make sure they know we’ve taken down the flag here.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Tanner watched the numbers spin down on
Hercules’s
speed. He noted three Archangel corvettes already swinging in to drop off troops. In keeping with the hopes behind Beowulf, none of the enemy ships dared open fire on
Hercules
. For all the desperation of combat and the cold economic sensibilities of Archangel’s foes, even corporate navy crews would not deliberately fire on their own.

Unwillingly, without conscious thought, Tanner glanced over to the tactical screens and saw the grey icon marking the remains of
Saratoga
. He didn’t give himself enough time to reflect upon its presence. Instead, he looked to other matters. The fate of NorthStar’s other two battleships, both of them plagued with Archangel’s boarding teams, was far more pressing.

“
Los Angeles
, this is Beowulf One,” said Sinclair. “
Los Angeles
, do you read? This is Beowulf One. We have control of
Hercules
. I say again, we have control of
Hercules
. Please advi—“ He abruptly fell silent, giving Thompson a thumbs up without looking away from his console.

Tanner felt another slight rush of triumph. Every development brought their entire impossible mission closer to success. His eyes lifted once more to the big tactical screens at the fore of the bridge
. Computer-enhanced close-ups showed both
Ursa
and
Andromeda
trying in vain to outrun more of Archangel’s corvettes, which swooped down upon them like predatory birds onto far larger but now wounded animals. The battleships tried to fight off their tenacious pursuers with fire from their lasers and defensive guns, but neither had much success. Tanner watched with bated breath.

His heart all but stopped when
Ursa
exploded.

* * *

“Link-up complete. All three struts securely locked on the hull.”

“Thank you, bo’sun,” came Kelly’s voice over the comm. “Passengers are now free to… disembark from the spacecraft,” she
coughed.

“Understood,” replied the bo’sun. “Depressurizing cargo bay now. Landing ramp down in ten seconds.”

“Hold that order, please,” spoke up a voice in the cargo bay.

The collection of men and women in grey
Navy vac suits, helmets and combat jackets struck a far different image than
Joan of Arc’s
last load of passengers. These passengers bore pulse rifles and gun belts with pistols, but their combat loads fell considerably short of those carried by the boarding teams. They also lacked proper rank insignia—and with good reason.

One passenger walked over to
Joan’s
XO. “Lt. Booker,” she said, “It occurs to me that I may be the only one on my staff who has completed firearms certification within the last year. I should probably bring a bit more of an escort than I have here with me.”

“Agreed, ma’am,
” said Booker, “but I don’t know who we can spare and still get back into the fight.”

Admiral Yeoh shook her head. She touched another key on her holocom. “Captain Kelly,” she said.

“Ma’am?”

“Captain, your ship is damaged, you’re out of missiles and you have suffered casualties. I’m pulling you out of the fight. You’ve done more than enough.
Joan of Arc
remains docked and locked on
Hercules
. Is that understood?”

The response came after a brief but noticeable pause. “Aye, aye, admiral,” Kelly answered. “
Joan of Arc
is standing down.”

“Sanjay, Ordoñez,” Booker spoke up on the comm net, “you’re with the admiral. Weapons and combat jacket in the cargo bay
. Hustle.”

Yeoh cut the crew channel again. “
Lt. Booker, I’m ordering you to pull Captain Kelly off of that bridge and get her medical attention. I don’t care if you have to break the door down with an axe. Make sure she gets first aid and then move her to sick bay here on
Hercules
as soon as you can. If you have anyone else injured on this ship, you do the same for them.”

Booker merely nodded. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

She saw Sanjay
arrive armed and ready to go. Seconds later, a hatch opened and Joan’s gunner’s mate hurried out, carrying a rifle over her shoulder and still strapping on a belt holding two pistols as she moved. Yeoh pursed her lips at the sight, but said nothing of it.

“Do not fire unless you see a weapon or clear hostile intent,” she
told her escorts and the handful of officers that accompanied her from
Los Angeles
. “Do not call out ranks or names. Until we get to the bridge, every one of us is perfectly happy to answer to ‘hey, you.’ Let’s go.”

Yeoh nodded to the bo’sun, who soon had the cargo bay depressurized and the loading ramp down on the battleship’s hull. The party moved out carefully, with the magnetic clamping action of their boots slowing their stride.
Hercules
no longer made any sudden, violent moves. Yeoh and the others could see the flashes of lasers and exploding missiles far off in the distance. None of it came near the battleship.

They entered through an emergency maintenance hatch near an external sensor array, where a lone marine waited to let them in. The group could only go inside two at a time, closing the hatch behind themselves before opening their way into the interior vestibule and then waiting for the rest in the data analysis compartment on the other side. Shattered equipment, laser-scored bulkheads, bodies and blood stains lay all around. The compartment hadn’t been taken without a fight—and an ugly one at that.

Guided by another marine from the boarding party, Yeoh and her group moved through eerily quiet passageways and open blast doors on their way to the bridge. Other than their first compartment, they found few signs of violence until they drew closer to their destination. There they saw the signs of Lt. Thompson’s fight for the wardroom and the twisted, ugly wreckage of the corridor outside the bridge. A pair of marines guarded this last junction, calling for sign and countersign and even then still giving Yeoh’s group a good looking over before allowing them to pass.

By the time she arrived, a half-dozen more navy ratings and a couple of
marines sat or stood at vital stations. None of the captives remained. Yeoh noted with some relief that in contrast to the mangled destruction outside, the bridge appeared free of damage. It only needed more of a crew.

“Engineering reports main power to thrusters will be reconnected in five minutes,” someone called out. “Guess they just started cutting cables and tubes when they first got in there.”

“Gunnery party has secured Cannon Two,” reported someone else. “Reporting lots of captives.”

“Yeah, that was us,” answered a third voice, one Yeoh recognized. “Sorry about the mess.”

Her eyes turned up to the tactical screens on the opposite bulkhead as she walked toward the captain’s chair at the center of the bridge, where a lone marine lieutenant stood watch. In keeping with her instructions, the main body of Archangel’s ships now adopted a largely defensive posture, apart from the trio of corvettes that still doggedly chased after
Andromeda
. The enemy seemed likewise content to stay back at long range, still engaged but clearly waiting to see the fate of NorthStar’s last battleship before making another move.

She removed her helmet an
d stepped up next to the marine. “Lt. Thompson,” she said, reading his nametag.

To his credit, he didn’t pop to attention or salute, but the young officer clearly stiffened a bit when he turned and recognized the face in front of him. “Ma’am.”

“You appear to be the ranking officer on the bridge?”

“Yes, ma’am. Not anymore, obviously,” he conceded, nodding toward the handful of officers who’d arrived with Yeoh and now spread out across the bridge, “but it’s been me up until now. Glad to see some regular navy officers here to take over. I had a couple of marine grunts running the astrogation table until a few minutes ago.”

“We’ve emphasized cross-training for the last few years with good reason, Lieutenant,” she nodded. “I’m glad to see it paid off. That said, I’m here to relieve you. I can see the ship’s position and heading well enough, along with the tactical situation. What’s the status of the ship? What have we secured?”

Thompson gestured to a monitor station near the captain’s chair, where a young woman with a yeoman’s insignia sat working with several screens. The station offered a series of deck plans, which the yeoman marked out in red or green. “Engineering is secure, though that’s a big space. We’ve got our people all over three out of the four thrusters. Two of the NorthStar marine landers took off out of here a couple minutes ago, but I think we’ve managed to stave off any more escapes from the launch bay at this point. The flag bridge is locked down but we don’t have control of it yet, same as a good number of other spots. And we just got a good grip on Cannon Two, like they—“

“Woah!” someone called out. “
Andromeda’s
changing course!”

Yeoh looked up to the tactical screens like almost everyone else. As reported, the big battleship pulled into a hard turn to starboard that never straightened out, effectively putting
Andromeda
into a broad circular path. The admiral placed a hand on Thompson’s shoulder and then walked past. Her eyes stayed on the tactical screens as she moved toward the front of the bridge. Soon she stood just behind a pair of young navy ratings—one of them manning the helm, while the other tried to manage the ship’s communications.

“Comms,” she said coolly, “watch for anything from
Andromeda
. Highest priority.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the young signalman, “but I’m getting a lot of—ma’am, most of this stuff was locked out when we came in, but I’m starting to clear it up and I think
you should—“

“There!” someone else yelled. Everyone watched as
Andromeda
pulled out of her loop and veered off away from both Archangel’s formations and the loose lines drawn up by NorthStar’s ships. Her speed fell dramatically. Several of her guns went dark, and then more, and then more.

“Signal from
Andromeda
,” said the man to Yeoh’s left. “Beowulf—!” he cut himself off, and instead input a few commands on his console.

“
Los Angeles
,” said a voice over the bridge speakers, “this is Beowulf Three. We have taken the
Andromeda
bridge and engineering. The crew has surrendered. I say again,
Los Angeles
, this is Beowulf Three. We have
Andromeda
!”

Wild cheers eru
pted throughout the command bridge. Yeoh merely sighed with relief, but she couldn’t blame anyone for their emotions. In truth, she felt much the same way. She’d simply carried this stress too long to expend any energy on shouting. Nor did she think the danger had passed, even when the situation on the tactical screens went through further dramatic change.