New Frontiers (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 1) (23 page)

“OPS, keep an eye out for any fire from those flankers,” Celesta ordered. “Tactical, fire the Hornets and stand by for the auto-mag.”

“Firing!” Adler called and four missiles, much smaller than Shrikes, streaked away from the ship from the forward launch tubes. The missiles were all tracking true, but Celesta had no doubt the small interceptors would be destroyed by the Darshik cruiser before they could do any damage.

“Tactical, you are clear to execute auto-mag firing sequence,” Celesta said as she authorized the tactical station to take over helm control from her own terminal, pressing her thumb to the screen for a biometric reading.

“Initiating auto-mag sequence, aye,” Adler said. “Helm, zero thrust and stand by to relinquish control.” The auto-mag was an enormous rapid-fire rail gun that ran almost half the length of the ship. The barrel emerged from the prow along the centerline of the ship and just under the pointed nose of the composite radome that covered the sensor antennas. Unlike the preceding class of destroyer operated by Black Fleet, the
Starwolf
-class only had one cannon and it wasn’t mounted on an articulated turret. The entire ship had to be maneuvered to aim it, which wasn’t ideal, but the gun was a late addition to the design at the insistence of Jackson Wolfe.

“We’re clear to fire, ma’am,” Adler said, wanting the final confirmation before unloading with the first of five, five-shot salvos she had programmed.

“Stand by,” Celesta said, taking in the tactical picture on the threat board now that all the players were getting within close range of each other. She waited until the range to the forward target ticked just under seventy-five thousand kilometers to ensure the cruiser wouldn’t have much room to maneuver while it focused on the four Hornet missiles.

“Fire!”

The deck shook as one-thousand-millimeter tungsten shells with depleted uranium cores were hurled out of the
Icarus
at just over fifteen thousand meters per second. The gun was hard-mounted to the ship’s hull so each shot reverberated through the destroyer and the hull rang like a bell. The auto-mag could fire twenty-five rounds before it had to be reloaded, the coils cooled, and the capacitor banks recharged. By breaking that up into five smaller salvos, each correcting aim slightly to make a dispersed pattern, Celesta hoped to catch the cruiser flat-footed and maximize her chance at a direct hit as they were near the weapon’s maximum effective range.

“Shots away,” Adler said. “Safing auto-mag for a reload and releasing attitude control to the helm.”

“Helm, come starboard ten degrees, ahead full,” Celesta said.

“One Hornet got through!” Accari called out. “Minor damage to the dorsal surface of the target.” They needed no confirmation when the auto-mag shells arrived as close as they were. While the optical sensors couldn’t quite pick up the cruiser itself, the brilliant flash of the penetrators ripping through the ship shone briefly like a new star before winking out.

“Target is … destroyed!” Adler called out. “She’s breaking up into four distinct pieces.”

“Were they able to get a shot off before our shells impacted?” Barrett asked.

“No, sir,” she said. “Course ahead is clear all the way to Epsilon jump point.”

“OPS, what are the remaining enemy ships doing?” Celesta asked, standing up.

“Coming about to pursue, but they’re completely out of position, ma’am,” Accari said. “None will be able to close within weapons range given our current profile on that class of ship.”

“Very well. Deploy the warp drive and tell Engineering to prepare for transition,” Celesta ordered. “Helm, we’re going to maintain acceleration and then decel just before we line up on our jump point.”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” the helmsman said.

“Nav, verify course and speed,” Celesta said. “OPS, prepare the
Icarus
to depart this damn—”

“New contact! Dead aft, two ships just appeared,” Adler said.

“Did two of the flanking cruisers jump in?” Celesta asked.

“Negative. Radar profile indicates these are two Ushin ships, same configurations as the two that appeared in-system earlier,” Adler said. “They’re now accelerating to close the gap.”

“How long until we transition out versus the time until they’re within assumed weapons range?” Celesta asked.

“Currently five hours from transition, ma’am,” the nav specialist said. “That’s including decel maneuver.”

“Assuming comparable weaponry to the Darshik and that they’re at maximum acceleration, they’ll not close to within weapons range until we slow for transition, Captain,” Accari said. “We could outrun them if we push the engines to flank.”

“But then we’ll have to shed off even more speed as we near the jump point.” Celesta shook her head. “Maintain speed and heading. Tactical, target both Ushin ships with the aft tubes, one Shrike each. Coms, open a channel to our
allies
.”

“Broadcasting on last known Ushin channel, ma’am,” Ellison said.

“Attention pursuing Ushin vessels, this is Captain Wright aboard the Terran warship,
Icarus
,” Celesta said. “Break off pursuit and allow us to leave this system. We have already reported your actions to our leadership … there is nothing to be gained by further antagonizing this ship.”

“
We cannot give you leave
,” an artificial voice replied back almost immediately. “
Agreements made must be honored
.” Celesta looked at Barrett in confusion and her XO in turn only shrugged.

“How do you honor your agreement by betraying us and assisting the Darshik?” she asked, not really sure the translation on their side would be up to breaking down what she was asking.

“
A demand has been made. We must comply. Humanity will be made to suffer
,” the voice said before the intercom chirped to indicate the channel had been closed. Ellison shook his head, indicating that it hadn’t been him that terminated the conversation.

“At least we have a bit more of a coherent threat,” Barrett said. “I have to believe that in the absence of any senior leadership or guidance from the diplomatic corps that we must now consider the Ushin to be an equal threat to the Darshik.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, XO,” Celesta said. She knew Barrett’s choice of words was deliberate and meant to not only state his opinion but to put it on official record that the
Icarus
was being forced to defend herself against a force that CENTCOM and the Federation Parliament considered an ally. But they were hundreds of lightyears from the capital and her first responsibility was to the ship and to the crew.

“Tactical … fire the Shrikes.”

“Missiles one and two away,” Adler said.

Two Shrike nuclear penetrators fired from the aft tubes and fired their engines. In reality they were decelerating from the relative speed they carried from the
Icarus
and waiting for the Ushin ships to meet them, but on the tactical board the tracks showed two missiles racing to their targets.

The Darshik had learned quickly to look for, and intercept, the small Terran missiles that packed such a big punch, but the Ushin were hopelessly ill-prepared for what was coming. Each Shrike slammed into the prow of its respective target, plunging deep into the guts of the cruisers before the warheads detonated. Both ships were instantaneously turned into clouds of expanding debris.

Celesta didn’t know whether the Ushin ships could have actually harmed the
Icarus
. She believed the likelihood was low given that the Ushin appeared to be herding the Terran ships to where the Darshik were waiting, but it was a risk she wasn’t willing to take given how bizarrely off the rails the mission had gone since arriving in the system.

The helmsman executed the braking maneuver as scheduled and the
Icarus
was slowed down to ten percent below her maximum transition velocity before the engines were shut down and secured. Celesta ordered all the tactical systems safed and the active sensors turned off as she took one last look at the threat board, the Darshik cruisers still pursuing but now too far back to be a threat. She hoped that out of all the com drones and ships that had returned to the Juwel System that CENTCOM would soon be getting a picture of how badly things had gone. She didn’t pretend to understand what it all meant, but it was clear the Ushin had been manipulating the situation either on behalf of the Darshik or for their own reasons.

“Stand by for warp transition!” the nav specialist called as the fore and aft distortion rings formed and began to stabilize, arcing out from the lateral emitters until the gravimetric energy created a visual effect on the main display. With a harsh shudder the
Icarus
disappeared from the system with barely a flash of light to mark her passing.

After breathing a sigh of relief at escaping what was behind them, Celesta now had to worry about what was ahead of them.

****

Chief of Staff Marcum sat behind his desk, drumming his fingers and trying to decide if he would take any direct action against Agent Pike or not. The man was protected at the highest levels, that was for sure, but he knew he could dig up enough dirt on the bastard that Wellington would have no choice but to distance himself. Pike may look at the new President as a benefactor, but Marcum knew him to be a politician above all else. He wouldn’t risk his new position or power to protect someone who technically didn’t even exist.

He’d been sweating bullets on the ride down to the surface and Pike had him half-convinced he was walking into his own execution, but the agent had overplayed his hand and the meeting hadn’t gone nearly as poorly as he would have expected. Oh, there was a lot of bluster and cursing from the President, but it was more on being left out of the loop than anything else. Once Marcum had explained just how sensitive the project was due to the Vruahn connection, Wellington had conceded that he’d probably done the right thing.

What had really surprised him, however, was that the project output Wolfe had sent like it was a dire emergency had been largely blown off. The details were almost entirely technical, including some especially dry portions about beta decay and molecular signatures that the President couldn’t have cared less about. He wanted a brief synopsis and Wolfe, being the honest idiot he was, had stated that the evidence only suggested one possibility but wasn’t conclusive. Marcum had almost been able to see Wellington switch his brain off as soon as he heard that, despite Pike’s near desperate pleading that he take another look at the matter.

In the end, Wellington had ordered Marcum to assemble an independent team from Fleet Science and Research to audit Project Prometheus and review Director Wolfe’s conclusions before dismissing both he and Pike. The agent refused to even look at the Chief of Staff as he stalked away once out of the office. Marcum had been so preoccupied reflecting on his good fortune that he let the man escape without so much as a word. Not only had Pike been diminished in front of his boss, but Wellington had given Marcum an easy out for getting rid of Wolfe. Again.

He’d had his hands tied at first since the damn Cube would only talk to the former captain, but from the reports he’d been reading other members of the science team and even the administrative staff had been able to develop a rapport with the machine. Wolfe had far overstepped his authority when he had taken Pike on a tour of the facility and even included him on classified communiques. He had enough to actually prosecute him, but he’d settle for just kicking him off the project and yanking his fat director’s salary away from him. How could one man so consistently cause so much trouble?

His ruminations were interrupted by an insistent beeping from the secure com link that was sitting on his desk. He picked it up and keyed in, checking the message and frowning as he read it.

“Emergency?” he mumbled, trying to do the math in his head as to when they were supposed to expect word from the taskforce executing the Ushin operation. The message stated he would need to come down to the secure com section to be briefed, another slightly unusual request given that his office was one of the most secure locations on the station. He slowly put on his suit jacket, having opted for civilian clothes as he had been going down to meet with the President as Chief of Staff and not a Fleet Admiral, and secured all his com equipment before heading out the door.

His aide fell in behind him as he walked through the front of his office area, her trusty tile clutched firmly at her side as she followed him through the station. Marcum made sure he walked with a purposeful scowl planted on his face and moved at a brusque pace. He’d found early on after getting his first star that people tended to want to catch him in the corridor to sign off on something minor that they couldn’t get an appointment for. If he looked like he was heading somewhere quickly and pissed off, people cleared out of his way like he was on fire.

“You’ll need to wait here, Lieutenant,” he said, nodding to his aide as he began the absurdly convoluted procedure to get into the secure com section. When he was passed through, and after a five-minute argument after which his comlink was confiscated, he was led down to one of the intelligence briefing rooms. When he walked in he saw that Pike was standing at one corner of the room looking pale and a bit sick. He was about to tear into the agent for wasting his time yet again when he saw the looks on the faces of the other analysts in the room.