Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Turmoil (17 page)

The fighters swooped
away from the cruiser, peeling up off their runs and trying their best to avoid
the point defense fire.  One Talon wasn't so lucky, and caught a full-force
blast right in the cockpit.  The fighter disappeared in a fireball.

"I'm out of
autocannon rounds," Cory declared over the squadron's frequency. "If
you are, too, just use your blasters.  Let's head it back in," she said in
resignation.  She knew this couldn't go on forever, but they were so
outnumbered that all she could do was keep trying and hope...

That hope was
rewarded as the Priman ship's engines flickered, then could only experience was
Cory would describe as a backfire.  The drive plume went out for a split
second, then shot almost an entire ship-length out behind.  Then the engines
flickered a second time, going out for good.  The ship coasted on, engines and
weapons silent; she even had a couple unfired torpedoes attached to her hull. 
Cory thought those would definitely be worth coming back for when this was all
over.

"Avenger,"
she said over the net, "looks like you're clear."

"Thank you,
Captain," Loren replied with a salute.  He looked away from the comm
screen and at the helm station.  "To the Lemurian destroyers, max
speed."

He surveyed the
large damage-control display at the aft of the bridge.  Too much red, too many
systems out.  Almost out of torpedoes, half their laser batteries destroyed or
simply overheated from too much continuous fire, and enough internal damage to
keep the yard hands cursing his name.  He only hoped he'd get there in time to
help Captain Renner.

This was it.  Renner
knew it was over.  The other destroyer was breaking up, all hands trying to
make it to the escape pods before the ship split apart around them.  His ship
was next, he knew that and accepted it.  He only wished he'd been able to take
out that damn Priman cruiser.  He'd done some damage, made it hurt, but they were
going to survive this and he wasn't.  He looked at the tactical display one
last time and wished it would work long enough to get a clear picture.  There
was so much damage he couldn't see the situation, what was real and what was
faulty data.

He did see something
moving in, though, and it wasn't another Priman.  "XO," Renner said
as he tried to adjust the incoming data to no avail.  "XO!" he said
again, and this time got a response.  The officer looked at the main display
with ever-widening eyes.  Renner had switched to external cameras and focused
on the incoming ship.  It was trailing debris and sections of the lighting and
shield grid were flickering, but there was no doubt; it was Avenger.

Avenger barreled in
towards the confrontation.  The Lemurian destroyer was limping pathetically
along, heading out towards the waiting Stalwart class transports that seemed
stuck in space, unable or unwilling to move after seeing two of their own
destroyed before the battle started. 

The Priman cruiser
came about, showing her broadside batteries; her greatest number of weapons
available in a single salvo.  She'd been pummeled, to be sure, but had far more
left than the last pitiful Lemurian ship.  The batteries traversed and readied
to fire.           

Avenger lined up and
fired first, two torpedoes reaching out from her forward tubes.  As she bore
down, her autoloaders readied two more torpedoes in tubes three and four, the
only forward-facing ones still functional.  There was no need, though.  The
torpedoes closed the gap in remarkably short order and ripped into the Priman
ship on her port aft quarter.  The ship swayed, then started to tumble as
internal explosions carried on the work of the initial blast.  The whole ship
seemed to try to turn itself inside-out as sections of hull and various
emplacements blew apart, tearing at the seams that held the ship together. 

Captain Vol was at a
loss.  While not all of his vessels had been destroyed outright, he was down to
only two ships that could leave the battle under their own power, and it was
time to do so.  To be sure, the Confed battleship was as ravaged as any of his
vessels.  He could even perhaps destroy it if he stayed, but he had no
illusions that he'd survive the encounter.  What good would it be to eliminate
the ship if his own forces were all destroyed?  If he couldn't hold the system,
it wasn't worth spending the lives of the rest of his crew. 

There was also the
matter of the Representative.  She had accorded herself very well, and as a
future Commander her life shouldn't be wasted, either. 

There was one last
command to issue, however.  If he couldn't take out the Confed soldiers, he
could at least take out the cowards on the surface of the planet that had dared
to try and leave.

He'd already ordered
his two-ship formation to break contact, and the Confed battleship had seemed
more than happy to let them go.  Captain Vol took a moment to check his data
feeds and was pleased at what he saw.  While he had used all the torpedoes
available to him, there was one ship that still had three that had not been
launched.  The ship itself was mostly crippled, but even under backup power,
they could be fired.  He gave the order over his secure comm link, and a second
later the crippled ship acknowledged its last order.

Avenger had heaved
to for the moment to recover her fighters.  That had taken a disturbingly short
amount of time, but it was over now and he could deal with those implications
later.  There was also the matter of the captain.  Loren knew Captain Elco had
been on the surface at the military base near the capitol that had been
destroyed; he'd have to work on organizing some sort of search for him as
well. 

He took a quick
inventory of the system; there were several Priman ships that were wrecked but
not destroyed.  Some most likely had survivors aboard, possibly technology that
was still intact.  Somebody would need to head that up as well.  It wasn't ever
discussed, but both sides seemed to take prisoners, though the Primans most
often chose dying in battle.   Still, there were a handful of prisoner-of-war
camps for Priman captives, and Loren resolutely hoped that the Primans did
something similar.  With all their claims of wanting to take over and guide
their misled children in this galaxy, he'd assumed that they wouldn't just
execute any captives on hand.

Those thoughts were
put on hold as he got a warning from Lieutenant Caho.  "Commander!"
she said in a tone that Loren knew meant something was very wrong.

He jogged the few
steps over to her station to see the young Lieutenant chewing on her
fingernails, a nervous habit of hers that was another surefire sign of bad
news.

"What is it,
Lieutenant?" he asked quickly.

"That Priman
cruiser that Captain Sosus's ships got off our tail," she began, tapping a
recently-chewed fingernail on the screen, "it's still showing power. 
Actually, it's showing a recently stabilized power grid.  They may be getting
back in the fight."

Loren grumbled and
ran to his chair with a worried look on his face.  Two Priman cruisers that had
been battling Majestic had already accelerated far enough out and jumped out of
the system.  He didn't want to assume this one would do the same, so it was
time to go check it out.

"Helm," he
said, trying to push the post-combat fatigue from his voice.  He needed to stay
on edge just a little longer, "lay in a course towards that Priman cruiser
we just left behind."  He tapped another control and was rewarded with
Lieutenant Commander Mastruk's weary but attractive face.  "Sarria," he
began, formality of command withering like the energy that was rapidly leaving
him, "target everything on that cruiser we're heaved towards.  Caho thinks
they might be powering back up.  If they want to run, I'm inclined to let them
leave at this point.  If they want to fight, let's make it quick and
ugly."

"Commander!"
Loren heard from Lieutenant Caho, "torpedoes!"

He watched in horror
as three torpedoes leapt from cobbled hardpoints on the hull and angled off
towards the motionless Stalwart transports.  "Oh no," he said in shock. 
"Mastruk; end them!" he yelled.

Avenger's last two
torpedoes in the forward magazines shot out from tubes three and four, followed
closely by a barrage of fire from her functioning laser batteries.  Loren saw
that Mastruk even tasked Avenger's many point defense turrets to attempt to
shoot down the outgoing Priman torpedoes, but they were already too far away.

Captain Renner saw
the torpedo launch and felt his stomach drop.  This was supposed to be over;
there was no need to keep jabbing at each other.  The battle was decided,
everyone should have walked away like honorable combatants.  But the last
functional Priman cruiser had fired three torpedoes towards the helpless
transports seconds before a barrage from Avenger had obliterated the vessel.

"Helm,"
Renner commanded steadily despite the urgency at his core.  "We need to
intercept those torpedoes before they get to the transports.  Do the best you
can, and don't worry about burning out the drives."

He turned to the XO
and continued.  "Get the point defense batteries ready," he ordered
as he wiped a combination of sweat and blood, the result of him being out of
his chair and at a sensor station when the ship had taken a hit earlier, off
his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Renner looked at his
small command board and hit another control himself, bringing up an image of
Loren Stone on the bridge of Avenger.  "Commander Stone," Renner
began, and Loren nodded grimly.

"We're trying
to get underway towards the transports," Loren began, the painful truth
evident in his voice as he spoke.  "Those torpedoes of theirs are pretty
damn good; they juke and dodge when they're fired upon.  My plan is to try to
get Avenger close to the transports and hit them with our point defense
batteries.  Hell, we'll park ourselves in the way and let them hit us if it
comes to that."

Renner wasn't
surprised to hear Loren make such a claim, and he knew the man was as good as
his word.  That's what made him a great leader, but that's also what burdened
the man and tugged at his soul.  For he knew now that Loren felt he had to do
it all; only he could save his home planet, only he could stop the Primans, and
only he could save those transports right now.  It wasn't an ego or power
issue; Loren just figured he needed to take the responsibility and do it
himself, and that only he should have to shoulder the burden and blame for how
things ended.  Renner lamented the fact that he'd seen it before, and the
people afflicted had almost universally burned out, unable to allow for the fact
that others were just as willing to risk their lives for the same ideal. 

"You'll never
make it in time, friend," Renner said, a certain peace coming over him. 
It was said that fear accompanied the possibility of death, but calm was a sign
one had seen and accepted it.  Renner had hoped he'd never understand that
saying, but now he knew what it meant.  If he could stop those torpedoes,
however it happened, his job would be complete.  "I'm almost there and I
have a few point defense turrets still working."  Left unsaid was the same
option Loren had mentioned: using the ship itself as a barrier.

"I think I know
that look," Loren said softly.  "I hope you aren't thinking of doing
anything drastic."

"Only what's
required," Renner countered in the same tone, then glanced off-screen for
an instant.  "I need to go; we're almost in range.  Watch our six, alright
Avenger?"

"Always,"
Loren said somberly as the screen went blank.

"What's he
going to do?" asked Lieutenant Caho quietly from behind him.

"Whatever he
has to," Loren answered.

Renner's eyes bored
into the console in front of him, as if by burning the image of the transports
into his mind's eye the ship would manage to get there faster.  It was a race;
both the destroyer and the incoming Priman torpedoes were coming at an angle,
and the computers were guessing they'd arrive at almost the exact time as each
other.

"How are the
turrets?" Renner quickly asked the XO.

"Three
working," was the curt answer.

Renner surveyed his
remaining bridge crew; they all turned to look at him, as if they all knew what
they were trying to do.  To a one they all showed resolve in their gazes, most
nodding in acceptance.

"Almost in
range," he heard, and he looked back at the displays.  A quick check of
the damage control board showed that his three remaining point defense turrets
were still up and running, and he saw them traverse and elevate to track the
incoming torpedoes.  As if on cue, as the enemy weapons detected the tracking
scanners of the destroyer locking on, the torpedoes started a series of violent
maneuvers.  Without the need to protect a living occupant, the torpedoes were
free to change course and speed in incredibly violent fashion; their fuel
supply would last long enough for a few minutes of this routine.

Renner watched as
his turrets opened up, sending a steady stream of rapid-fire bursts toward the
weapons.  The only thing he had going for him was that his ship was still
headed straight for the transports at max speed; with the torpedoes dodging all
over space, they were only adding to the time it would take them to get there. 

Renner started
sweating nervously, something he realized he hadn't really done the entire
battle.  Perhaps it was because before he had been simply fighting for his
life; there was no time to worry about anything.  Now, however, the
responsibility for all those people sitting in the oblivious ships crushed
him.  The only thing he could think about was that they were all depending on
his beaten ship for their lives.