A Faded Star (23 page)

 “Continue firing until there's nothing left but a
crater,” Drogue said.

 Hanlon said, “What's the plan here, sir?”

 “We've yet to enter into an extended engagement with
the weapons modifications we've made. Monitor power consumption per shot and
heat buildup.”

 “Aye, sir,” Kelper said. The squadron continued firing
for the next ten minutes. “Sir, weapons are still firing normally. There's
nothing left of the base.”

 Drogue said, “Very well, Lieutenant. Cease fire.” Miss
Hanlon, maneuver the squadron to our FTL transit point. We'll move on to L262
as scheduled. Signal the salvage ship there's nothing to pick up here.”

 Hanlon said, “Aye, sir.”

 The squadron spent the next four hours flying to a
point in the system clear of any navigational hazards the ships couldn't
handle. Five flickers of light marked their departure. As that light washed
into the system, a single crab ship lifted off of the moon that orbited the
fifth planet. A signal emitted from it, traveling far faster than the offensive
squadron could fly.

 At the after action briefing the next morning, the
only thing they couldn't figure out was why there were no crab ships in M673.
No one had a solid theory, so they chose instead to move on. Arrival at L262
was shortly thereafter. Drogue initiated battle stations before they entered
the system. Hanlon found herself pounding down the passageway with the rest of the
off duty officers. Drogue hadn't given any warning to his intentions.

 As Hanlon walked onto the bridge, she said, “Is there
a problem, Admiral?”

 “Not as such, captain. More of a sense of unease. The
only explanation I can come up with as to why there were no crab ships in that
system is that they knew we were coming. I would prefer to be at the ready as
soon as we come out of FTL in this system.”

 “I understand, sir.” Hanlon consulted her console for
a moment and then said, “All stations report manned and ready at battle
stations, sir.”

 “Very well. Time to FTL transit point, Mister
Watkins?”

 “Just over seven minutes, Admiral. The rest of the
squadron reports they're at battle stations.

 “Very well. Maintain readiness until we've completed
an active scan of the area. If the system is as reported by alliance
intelligence, we'll revert to our original plan. If things are not as
previously reported, then we'll adapt accordingly.”

 Hanlon said, “Sir, if the crabs know we're coming,
shouldn't we drop out of FTL sooner? Make it impossible to predict where we'll
arrive in the system?”

 “It's a good idea, Captain, but if we come out too
early, we'll just give them a lot of warning and allow them to concentrate any
forces in the system against us. I've decided to come out of FTL late instead.
It's a risky maneuver, but if they're expecting us to arrive on track and at a
safe point, I'm going to push it a bit and surprise them.”

 Hanlon pondered the situation and couldn't come up
with any suggestions that were better than what the admiral had already
planned. She sat quietly in her chair and waited for the time to run out. As
has happened in the past, before engagements, she'd had that dream again. She
was standing on the mountain, looking up at a black dot that seemed to be
coming towards her. It grew bigger and bigger. This time, it had approached so
close she began to get some perspective on what it might be. Some kind of super
massive shape was descending towards her. As before, she'd started out of her
sleep sweating and anxious. Battle stations had been sounded just as she'd
begun to drift off again. Her eyes tracked up the forward display, watching the
countdown approach zero.

 Watkins said, “We're at the safe boundary, sir. Thirty
seconds until your chosen arrival point.”

 “Very well, Mister Watkins. Prepare for FTL transit on
my mark... mark.”

 The ship appeared in the system in a brilliant flash
of light. Three flashes appeared in formation with the Broadsword.

 “Sir, Saber is out of position, their system did not
accept the safety override. She is at the edge of the system,” Hanlon said.

 “Very well. Begin active scan. Let me know what we've
flown in to.”

 Watkins worked on his console for a moment and then
said, “Sir, I have a number of contacts. At least ten cruiser class, one
battlecruiser class, Twenty plus destroyer class. Looks like an entire battle
group.”

 “Put the location on the forward display, lieutenant.”

 The display came up, showing the tactical situation.
As soon as Hanlon saw it, she knew there was virtually no chance they would get
out alive. They were out gunned fifty to one, and there was no way to avoid
engaging at least some of the ships while trying to escape. Hanlon pondered the
situation and tried to keep her composure while she watched Drogue out of the
corner of her eye.

 “Helm, make course zero-two-zero by zero-seven-five,
ahead flank,” Drogue said. The course would put the squadron in a near vertical
climb relative to the plane of the ecliptic. There was a relatively clear patch
of space in that direction as well that might allow the FTL drive to engage.

 “Aye, sir.” Adler twisted the course knobs briskly and
then rammed the engine order to flank. The answering chime sounded.

 “Sir, the rest of the squadron is in formation. We are
getting a comm request from Saber. They want instructions.

 “Put Captain Erickson on the screen, Lieutenant.”

 Erickson's face appeared on the screen. Her brows were
knitted together in worry. “Admiral, looks like the crabs were waiting for us.
My tactical officer says we have a good chance of making a rendezvous point
with you about twenty million kilometers along your current heading.”

 “That's a negative, Captain. I am ordering you to make
for the alliance base. Signal the alliance salvage ship on your way out and let
them know to retreat to their base as well. Our chances of escape are poor at
best. We flew directly into a trap.”

 “Aye, sir. I will do as you order. Is there anything
else I can do?”

 “Survive, Captain. With luck, I'll see you again.
Drogue out.”

 Erickson nodded, her face was set in a grim mask as
she closed the comm channel.

 Drogue said, “Miss Kelper, set maximum defensive fire.
Ramp power to the EM field generators. It looks like we're going to find out
just how effective the hull armor modifications we've made will be.”

 “Aye, sir. Field generators are now at maximum.”

 “Put me through to the rest of the squadron.”

 “You're on, admiral.”

 Drogue nodded at Hanlon and said, “This is Admiral Drogue.
We've found ourselves in a nasty situation. Our first task is to take out the
five destroyers coming up on our starboard sides. As we enter firing range,
we'll rotate along our current heading and bring the main guns to bear. Take
slow, methodical shots. Make sure you have a clean kill before moving on. Five
destroyers shouldn't be a match for us, but there is a formation of two
battlecruisers and six destroyers that will likely catch us before we can get
to a safe FTL point. If that happens, then this will be an interesting day.
Attend your duties, focus on your jobs, and we can survive this day. Admiral
Drogue out.”

 “Sir, we're coming into weapons range on the first
group of destroyers. That battle group you mentioned is really pouring on the
speed. They'll catch us well short of the FTL point,” Watkins said.

 “Very well. Fire at will, Miss Kelper.”

 “Aye, sir. Waiting for the helm to slew us around.”
There was silence on the bridge for a few seconds as the big cruiser turned to
face the oncoming destroyers. Inertia carried the ship along its path while the
main gun was pointed at their enemy. Kelper said, “Firing now,” The gun
shrieked out, and one of the destroyers blossomed into a massive ball of
discharging energy and debris followed closely behind by two more.

 “Good shooting. Prepare for follow up shot,” Hanlon
said.

 “Firing now.” Again the gun shrieked out, and the
remaining destroyers were completely annihilated.

 “Rotate us back along our heading and begin
accelerating again, helm,” Drogue said.

 “Aye, sir.”

 Watkins said, “Sir, I have a new signature. It looks
like a battlecruiser has just started their engines. They were waiting, powered
down near our heading. We're already inside their weapons range. They're
firing.”

 Drogue said, “Brace for impact, people. Bring us
around to bear on that battlecruiser. Synchronous fire from all squadron
ships.”

 “Aye, sir,” Watkins said, tapping at his console with
lightening quick fingers. “All ships report firing ready.

 The Broadsword reverberated when a heavy shot got
through the defensive fire. A damage alarm began to warble.

 “Damage report,” Hanlon said.

 “Crew berthing and forward sensors. Fire control
accuracy is degraded. Defensive fire unaffected,” Watkins said.”

 Kelper said, “All ships firing.”

 The battlecruiser instantly vanished into a globe of
debris. The combined force all four ships could project was far more than any
single point on the battlecruiser's heavily armored hull could take.

 “Sir, a message from the Rapier. She's taken damage to
her engines. She can't keep up,” Watkins said.

 “Slow the squadron to match Rapier's best speed. Let
her catch up.”

 Hanlon said, “If we do that, we'll be in range of the
battle group behind us. They'll give us a real problem.”

 “We'll turn and fight. Bring the squadron about. Let
them catch us. Concentrate all fire as before.” Drogue knew three
battlecruisers were more than a match for his squadron, but they couldn't
outrun them. The best chance to win was to turn and fight. “Concentrate fire as
they enter weapons range, Miss Kelper.”

 “Aye, sir,” Kelper said. Her hands were shaking, and
her skin was pale as she worked at her station. “Firing now, sir.” One of the
battlecruisers spun out of formation, venting heavily. “One ship no longer
combat effective, sir.”

 “Very well. Line up for the next shot.”

 Just as Drogue completed his order, the Poniard
exploded. Return fire from the crab battlecruisers had broken through her hull
armor and burrowed through to her forward reactor.

 Hanlon said, “Keep fighting, people.”

 Kelper said, “Firing now, sir.”

 The shriek rang out once again, causing another
battlecruiser to stagger and take heavy damage. Unlike the previous ship, it
stayed up with the remaining undamaged ship. The Dirk was next to go. Savage
fire from both battlecruisers ripped the forward end of the ship into a
splintered, air leaking mass of wreckage. Escape pods began to stream out from
the wrecked destroyer.

 “Comm the Rapier and have her finish off the damaged
battlecruiser,” Drogue said. The response to his order was never head. A flight
of torpedoes, launched in the litter of return fire went undetected. Broadsword
took seven hits to her forward section. The bridge crew were all thrown from
their chairs.

 “Damage report,” Drogue shouted into the cacophony of
alarms and yelling people.

 Hanlon grabbed him and pointed to her console. “Sir,
looks like the forward half of the ship is destroyed. The forward reactor is
going to let go at any second.”

 Drogue nodded. A strange sense of calm settled over
him. Signal the Rapier to run at best speed and to escape if possible. Abandon
ship.” Drogue tapped the three key sequence that let the crew know they should
get out of the Broadsword by the most expedient means possible. Drogue saw
Hanlon kneeling over Watkins with a field med kit. She wound a bandage around
his torso before she and the helmsman lifted him and dragged him into the
starboard bridge escape tube. Drogue surveyed the launch of the remaining crew
before stepping into the port tube. He was the last man to leave the ship
alive.

 The escape pod launch was violent. Fueled by
chemically fired rocket motors, the pod hurtled down a set of ceramic tracks
designed to maximize separation between the escaping crew and their stricken
ship. Drogue braced himself on the crash couch and waited till the pod
stabilized itself. Gravity was suddenly gone, and he felt a sense of queasiness
wash over him. He drifted to a port hole and looked at the Broadsword. The ship
was massively damaged. The front half of the ship was either gone or battered
into utter wreckage. The forward reactor went supercritical as he watched, but
the damage wasn't very severe. It just blew out a lot of the already damaged
sections in the forward part of the ship. The aft reactor must have gone into
safe mode and shut itself down.

 “Where is the Rapier, I wonder,” he said to himself.
To his shock, he saw the Broadsword begin to move once again. Someone had
somehow gotten the engines to work again. The ship moved on a collision course
towards the remaining battlecruiser.

 The impact was incredible. Though heavily damaged and
missing near half her mass, the Broadsword had been a large ship. It buried
itself in the bow of the crab battlecruiser and then the aft reactor exploded.
The battlecruiser followed a few seconds later. If the tactical situation
hadn't had any major changes in the last few minutes, there was a small period
of relative safety in which the Rapier should be able to escape. “I sure hope they
make it.”

 The escape pod was jolted, and Drogue felt the sudden
sense of gravity followed almost immediately by him falling to the deck,
actually the wall, of the escape pod. Looking around himself, he couldn't see
anything other than gray deckplates outside the single porthole. The hatch
cracked, and Drogue readied himself for hand to hand combat. The crabs were
massive and had exoskeletons, but Drogue wasn't a man who would allow himself
to be killed without a fight.

 “Admiral?” a voice said. Drogue stepped through the
hatch and found himself standing in the boat bay of what had to be the Rapier.