Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3) (31 page)

-55-

Okto turned out to be easily convinced by my new battle plan. Beta colonists are aggressive by nature, and she liked the idea of a bold attack.

An hour crawled by before the variants launched their fighters at the Stroj home world. As per the plan, ten more minutes ticked by.

At that point, alarms went off all over the ship.
Defiant
began tilting, rolling over, and then finally accelerating with all her awesome power once again.

By that time, I’d been secured by smart-straps into my seat. All around me, my crewmen groaned as the Gs were cruelly applied. We watched our ship in the projection tanks as it veered sickeningly.

Simultaneously, our three sister ships did the same thing. All four battle cruisers were twisting, plunging like daggers directly toward the star carrier. Our intentions could hardly have been more obvious.

At first, the enemy didn’t react. I’d noted this pattern in the past. The variants didn’t alter their choices rapidly, but when they did, the new option they chose was generally intelligent and decisive.

This occasion was no different. After several long minutes during which they continued to sail in the same direction—everything shifted again.

“Captain!” Durris called from his seat.

“I know, I can see it.”

The enemy was maneuvering again. The battleships were slowing down, turning back to defend the carrier. But by this time they’d been flying away from her for quite a while. They couldn’t just spin around on a dime. They had to counter all the inertia they’d built up, by braking for a long period, before they could move to defend the star carrier.

The
Iron Duke
, for its part, turned away from the Stroj planet and headed toward us and the battleships. It was going to be a race.

“Plot it all out for me,” I told Durris.

He feverishly worked on his computer. His actions were slow and hampered by the acceleration. He spoke most of his commands to the battle computer directly as it was easier than using his hands.

After several minutes, I saw the results.

“It’s going to be close,” Durris said. “Assuming we slip by the battleships without serious damage, we’ll have to engage the star carrier to destroy her. I don’t have precise specs on her defensive armament. Projecting as best I can, we’ll have about eight minutes to destroy her before the battleships come back into effective range and begin hitting us in the tail.”

It wasn’t welcome news. I stared, trying to see if he’d made an error. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t.

Could we destroy
Iron Duke
in eight short minutes? That could be a long time in space combat, but this ship looked very tough to me.

“Your orders, sir?” Rumbold prodded.

There was a note of hope in his voice. I could tell he was wishing I’d change my mind. That I’d redirect our plunging attack in another direction—any direction—as long as it was away from the enemy fleet.

“Steady as she goes, Rumbold,” I told him at last. “Maintain current course and acceleration.”

He sighed and slumped back into his chair.

The next hour crawled by, but then we were in range of the battleships.

“Hold all missiles,” I ordered. “We’re going to slam the star carrier with all of them. Begin rotating all three primary batteries, slow fire program—commence firing.”

All of this had been worked out extensively beforehand. We’d had plenty of time to plan before we reached effective range.

The enemy struck first, as I’d expected. The bigger ships had longer ranges. Their heavy beams splatted our hulls, but didn’t take us out. Divots were dug into the armor. Shields buckled and flashed.

We lurched sickeningly at random intervals chosen by the computer. A few staffers vomited, but no one commented as we were all feeling sick.

“Strike sir,” Yamada announced. “We hit their fantail, but scored no damage.”

The battleships were heavily shielded, much more so than we were. That didn’t fill me with confidence, but I’d expected it.

“Concentrate on a single engine,” I ordered. “If we score a lucky hit, we might at least slow them down.”

The norm in combat like this was to take out weapons first, but not when fighting defensively. In this case, I only wanted to evade this monstrous vessel for now.

“Another hit—no damage.”

As if in instant retribution, we were struck hard. The lights flickered, and the battle computer even died and reset itself. The whole ship went into a spin on its beam axis, flipping over to spread the damage.

A rumble rolled through the ship like thunder. Something had exploded—possibly a section of
Defiant
had been depressurized.

“We’re hit! Topside shield is down! We’re aiming our belly at them.”

“Are we venting?” I asked.

Yamada worked her boards. “Yes… aft weapons deck. We’ve lost fire control over one primary battery and one missile pod.”

“Sir,” Rumbold said, “we can’t repair this ship on the fly. This kind of acceleration will toss the boys right out the hole into the void!”

“I’m well aware of that, Rumbold,” I said. He’d been in charge of damage control on past missions, and his heart was still with the spacers who did the grunt work down below. “Just let it bleed, Yamada. Don’t send anyone into that mess yet.”

“Yes sir—but Captain?”

“What is it?”

“The variants are calling. Q-161 is requesting permission to work on the damaged deck.”

I thought it over.

“All right,” I said, “we’ll need every gun we have shortly. Give Q-161 permission, and provide two helpers. I can’t afford to risk losing any more of them than that.”

She relayed the message, and the battle continued.

It wasn’t much of a battle. We weren’t trying to destroy our opponent, only evade her. The battleship was raking us with blazing fire every minute or so. Effectively, we were taking a beating. As we got close and passed the battleship by, it became more intense.

Huge gouts of energy reached out and caught our ship. Missiles were launched, chasing after our wake. They sped up with the kind of dramatic acceleration only missiles could generate, but I knew it would be a long time before they could catch us. As the enemy ship was going in the opposite direction, the missiles had to spend most of their fuel fighting that momentum which was going the wrong way.

The worst part came when our stern was aimed at the enemy ship. We fired out a huge load of chaff, prismatic dust and decoys in our wake. But it wasn’t enough to deflect or confuse all of the enemy’s awesome firepower.

A shock went through the ship. The effects were immediate and disheartening. Our acceleration curve died, and I was no longer being powerfully pressed back into my seat.

“They tagged us a good one, Captain,” Yamada said. “We lost Engine One.”

“Dammit,” I said quietly.

After that, the strikes faded away as we were getting out of range of the pursuing battleship. We weren’t accelerating as quickly as before, but we were heading in the opposite direction, so we were able to escape the enemy.

“Project the new situation,” I ordered. “How are Okto’s ships faring?”

Durris painfully levered himself up to his planning table and poked at it.

“I think the Betas did better than we did. Only one of them took a hard hit. At least all of them can still move with full acceleration.”

I frowned. “How was the one ship in question damaged?” I asked.

“Looks like she lost power to all her primary batteries. Either that or her weapons were blasted off her hull. Either way, she’s not firing anything.”

“Hmm,” I said. “That’s bad. We’ll need every gun we have to take out that carrier. Anything else?”

“Yes sir—the damaged ship is Captain Okto’s.”

-56-

My next move was to summon Lorn to the command deck. He hadn’t been allowed to contribute since his irritating display when we’d spoken to the Stroj. Now, however, I sensed that I needed him again.

“Lorn,” I said when he came aboard. “I need your help. I—”

“Ah, of course!” he interrupted. “Why else would you allow me to stand among you? Why else would I be brought up out of your dungeon?”

“Let’s not be overly dramatic. Our brig is quite comfortable, and if we survive this encounter, we’ll be more than glad to release you to join your fellow Stroj citizens.”

He looked suspiciously around the deck. “What encounter? Where are we?”

I didn’t answer, but instead allowed him to figure that out for himself. When he did, he was astounded.

“We’re right in the middle of the enemy force!”

“Yes,” I said, “but we’re moving faster than any of them. Speed is our greatest defense now.”

“Speed? Where are we headed?”

I indicated the star carrier, which was clearly displayed as a large wedge-like ship on Durris’ projection maps.

“We’re attacking the carrier?” he asked incredulously. “Can we win?”

“That’s the difficult part,” I admitted. “Can you summon aid? Can you get the Stroj defensive command to assist with supporting fire on the carrier to help us finish her off?”

He walked around the planning table studying the situation. There was an oddly predatory look on his features.

“Why are you smiling?” Durris asked.

“I’m marveling at your foolishness. I might not survive this day, but if I do die, it will be clear that I helped convince you to commit suicide.”

“How could such an outcome make you happy?” Durris demanded.

“Because I’ll have engineered it. On my home world, they’ll know this. They’ll be impressed forever afterward.”

Durris opened his mouth to snarl another comment, but I shut him down with a gesture.

“But what if we win instead?” I asked Lorn. “Burning our strength against the enemy and barely crawling away to tell the story?”

He looked at me, and his eyes were alight. “That would be even better, I have to admit,” he said. “But I don’t see how it’s possible. The Stroj missile base commanders have their orders. They’re no doubt gleeful about your attack, but they would never consider losing valuable ordnance to aid you in this lunacy.”

Grimacing, I nodded. “Take him back to his cell,” I said.

Lorn was led away by Morris and his team. He complained at every step.

Events proceeded to unfold quickly after that. Three of the four battle cruisers were converging on the carrier. Only we were lagging behind.

As the Beta ships screamed close, making their final attack runs, I dared to hope they’d be successful. I watched as the two intact vessels struck first. They both launched heavy firepower, lashing
Iron Duke
with plasma beams.

The massive hull wasn’t heavily armed, but it was heavily armored. The vast ship absorbed the punishment. Small beams shot at the cruisers, stitching them with dozens of small hits. Neither cruiser was taken down, but they both sustained damage. As they were flying at great speed, they flew past the carrier and were gone out into the dark.

Iron Duke
had sustained damage as well. There were glowing orange-white spots all over her hull—but she was still flying under power.

The third ship sang inward next. It was Okto’s ship.

Up until that point, Okto hadn’t fired a shot. Whatever had gone wrong with her fire control systems, there apparently hadn’t been enough time to repair them before the engagement began.

“What’s she doing?” Yamada asked. “She’s not even shooting her guns? What can she hope to accomplish?”

Durris and I exchanged knowing glances. Rumbold took off his cap and put it over his heart.

“A brave crew,” he said, just before the collision.

Okto’s battle cruiser rammed into the star carrier at tremendous speed. The kinetic energy released was far greater than all the strikes we’d landed on
Iron Duke
so far. Sheets of flame, alive only briefly in vacuum, shot out of the gigantic vessel as she vented oxygen and fuel.

“They’ve rammed her, Captain,” Yamada said, “but I’m picking up signs… there were pods released just before the impact.”

“Life pods?” I asked. “Escape shuttles?”

“I can’t tell, Captain.”

“We’re up next, sir,” Rumbold said.

“Damage estimates?” I demanded. “Is
Iron Duke
dead or not?”

Yamada consulted her scanners. “Not clear. They’re hurt, but they haven’t been knocked out. They still seem to be maneuvering under power.”

Pre-programmed to fire the moment we were within range, all our guns began to buzz and sing their deadly song. I was heartened by the fact that the enemy wasn’t throwing back much in the way of return fire.

“Rumbold,” I said, “ease down, begin braking.”

He gave me a wide-eyed stare, but he followed my orders without objecting.

“How long before the fighters can get back to defend the carrier?” I demanded.

“Are you thinking of standing off and raking her at close range?” Durris asked.

“Something like that.”

“The first fighter wing will return in about forty minutes. That’s a long time in battle.”

“It is indeed… Contact Morris. Tell him to get his people ready for action.”

Everyone looked at me in surprise.

“The variants too,” I added, “Q-161 and every unit she has left. Arm them with the new equipment. We’re going to board this ship and finish the job.”

“But sir,” Durris complained, “we can just hold our position here and fire over and over again.”

I shook my head. “It won’t be enough. Can’t you see that? The carrier is damaged, but she can take a great deal more punishment to her hull than we can dish out. We’re going to have to get inside and see if we can disable her that way.”

“Morris is reporting in,” Yamada said.

“Lieutenant,” I said, “I have a job for you.”

“I have an idea what it is, Captain,” he said, “and my men are good to go!”

“Follow the variants and play clean-up,” I said. “Godspeed, Lieutenant.”

“Outstanding!” Morris said excitedly. “We’ve been sitting in this tin can for months, but we’re finally going to do something boys!”

The channel cut out, and soon afterward I saw indicators flashing. The shuttle doors were opening.

Morris and his men clung to handholds and magnetics in the shuttle as it rumbled out of the hangar. Trailing this was a line of variants who worked hard to stay out of the exhaust plume. Our assault team, such as it was, descended on the carrier.

“Concentrate our fire on their defensive turrets,” I ordered. “Morris is heading for the crater formed by Okto’s ship.”

“That’s where the survivors of the ramming attempt are landing as well,” Yamada said. Then she spoke again, with heightened concern in her voice. “Captain… I think we have a new problem.”

“Shit,” Durris said. “The fighter wings they launched at the Stroj home world—they’re all calling off the attack. They’re on their way back to defend the carrier.”

“How long do we have?”

“Maybe twelve minutes.”

I contacted Morris and Q-161.

“Troops,” I said, “we don’t have as much time as I’d anticipated. Get into that ship now, wreck her, and return.”

“How long?” Morris asked.

“Ten minutes.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Morris complained.

I closed the channel, unable to argue with his sentiments.