Stars of Blood and Glory (31 page)

“
What about the shuttles?” Danica
asked, her face impassive.

Abaqa glanced down at the scanners, then
back at her. “They’re below the altitude for immediate detection,”
he said. “Unless the Hameji fly directly over their position, I’d
say they’re safe.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Prince Abaqa. You’d
better get to your escape pod now—this is going to be a very short
battle.”

He rose to his feet and made for the door,
then stopped and turned before stepping through. Danica remained
calmly seated in the pilot’s chair, her hands steady at the
controls without betraying any fear.

Honor and glory are not the only virtues in
this universe.

“
Captain,” he said. She glanced
at him over her shoulder.

“
Yes?”

He raised his hand in a sharp, respectful
salute. “It has been an honor.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Prince Abaqa. Give
your mother my regards.”

A lump rose in his throat, and he turned and
left the room before betraying any of his confused emotions.
Moments later, he was sliding down the escape chute, through the
gut-wrenching blackness into the tightly cushioned interior of the
escape pod. He sprawled out on his stomach, his body completely
encased except for a little space near the viewscreen. The hatch
clicked shut behind him, and he grabbed the controls just as the
docking clamps popped open, releasing him from the ship.

The starfield spun wildly before
him, but with practiced precision he stabilized himself and brought
the pod to bear. Cycling through the exterior video feeds, he
brought up an image of the
Tajji Flame
streaking quickly away. A series of missiles
traced bright yellow arcs from across the horizon, and the ship
flared like a brilliant star before breaking apart into
pieces.

“
Goodbye, Captain,” he said
softly. As the lump in his throat began to quiver, he brought up
the communications screen and prepared to make his
transmission.

* * * * *

“
What’s happening out there?”
Hikaru asked softly, breaking the silence after the harrowing
descent to the planet’s surface. All around her, the Tajji soldiers
stared at the large display screen at the head of the cabin, as
silent and somber as death. She shifted uneasily on the stiff,
cracked seating. With almost twenty people crammed into the narrow
space, every seat on the shuttle was filled. For her own part, she
was pressed up against the wall with Roman’s prosthetic elbow
jamming her side.

The screen showed a single point passing
over the distant horizon. As the image zoomed in, several yellow
lines traced their way slowly from three directions. They
intersected at the point, which flared briefly and burst to
pieces.

“
Oh, God,” gasped one of the men.
He covered his face, while others lifted their hands to their
hearts as tears streamed down their cheeks.

“
Goodbye, Captain,” said
Lieutenant Maia at the rear of the cabin. “May the stars and
constellations of Earth guide you to your heavenly home.” Yuri took
his wife’s hand and let her bury her face against his
shoulder.

“
Is—is she gone?” Hikaru asked,
her voice subdued. A horrible sinking feeling gnawed at her
stomach. She glanced from face to face and read in their eyes the
awful answer.

“
It’s—it’s all my fault!” she
sobbed, reverting to her native language as she buried her head in
her hands. “I’m so—I’m so sorry!”

Roman put an arm around her, but the cold
metal prosthetic gave her no comfort. Her shoulders shook
uncontrollably as she sobbed like a little girl, ashamed for her
outburst and yet hating herself for not being ashamed any sooner.
She’d never wanted anything like this to happen—she’d only wanted
to get away and see the universe outside the palace walls. But now
… now, she didn’t even know if she deserved to go home.

“
It’s all my fault,” she cried
again, hitting her head against the wall in self-loathing. Roman’s
heavy grip stopped her, but inwardly, all she wanted was to curl up
and die.

Chapter 19

“
Focus all fire power on
the
Demon of
Tenguri,
”
said Katsuichi, his voice raw and his hands shaking. “I want that
ship annihilated!”

“
You do realize you’re gambling
everything on this,” said Colonel Webb behind him, his voice
subdued. “If Tagatai gets away, or the rest of his fleet falls on
us before—”

“
That’s enough,” bellowed
Kenta.

Katsuichi leaned forward in his
chair and watched the holographic projection as the small blue
points surrounded the larger Hameji battleship. He keyed the pad at
his armrest and zoomed in a little closer, so that the clusters of
red points on the periphery fell away. Swarms of fighter drone
squadrons weaved and danced like angry bees, while projectile fire
and plasma bursts spewed out of the
Demon of Tenguri
in all directions. It was astonishing
how much firepower Tagatai’s flagship had—almost half that of the
combined Rigelan fleet. The sleek cruisers circled the larger
Hameji ship warily, firing everything they had, but Tagatai’s
defenses were still too strong to penetrate.

“
Sir, the Hameji fleet is
closing—less than five minutes to intercept.”

“
Move the fleet closer,” said
Katsuichi. “We’re too far from the target—they’re anticipating our
fire and neutralizing our shells too quickly.”

“
But sir,” said the gunnery
officer, “if we get any closer to the
Demon of Tenguri,
those guns will tear us to
shreds!”

“
That’s a risk we’ll have to
take. Order all fighter squadrons to make immediate strafing
runs—maybe that will draw some of their fire.”

“
Sir.”

The hologram shifted as the swarms of
fighters began to converge toward the large red dot in the center.
Overhead, flashes and flares cast eerily silent shadows across the
bridge as the plasma fire intensified.

“
We’re taking heavy losses on the
fighters,” said the wing commander. “Casualties at thirty—no, forty
percent and rising—”

“
Sir, the
Sagami
and
Masamune
are heavily damaged,” shouted the
communications officer. “They’re breaking formation—Commander
Aizawa requests permission to—”

A bright light filled the bridge, making the
officers shriek and cover their heads. It was followed by a
deafening crash—one that shook the ship and nearly knocked
Katsuichi from his seat.

“
What was that?” he
asked.

“
The
Demon of Tenguri
is moving to intercept us,” said
the pilot. “They’re concentrating firepower, and—stars of
Earth!”

“
Incoming!”

Another terrible crash sounded through the
bulkheads, this time throwing Katsuichi to the floor. In an
instant, Kenta was at his side, helping him back into the command
chair.

“
We’ve got heavy projectile fire
incoming,” shouted the countermeasures officer. “Trying to
establish plasma screen, but there’s simply too much to
repel!”

“
We’ve lost the starboard
engine,” said the engineer. “More than half our armor plating has
been stripped—one more direct hit and we’ll start losing hull
integrity.”

“
Our defensive screen has been
breached in multiple places,” said the countermeasures officer. “If
we don’t take evasive maneuvers—”

“
No!” shouted Katsuichi, leaping
to his feet. “Concentrate all firepower on the
Demon of
Tenguri
—we
can’t afford to let up now!”

“
But sir—”

“
Move the
Divine Wind
closer—yes, closer! We’re not
going to get another chance at this. Better to die now than to let
our people perish.”

His men stared at him, the fear in their
faces only a hair’s breadth from panic. Some of them had already
collapsed to the floor, curled up in terror—but most of them took
heart at his words and returned to their posts with renewed
vigor.

“
Moving to engage,” said the
pilot. “Evading fire—”

The ship shuddered, and a horrible scraping
noise sounded outside on the hull. All throughout the ship, alarms
began to blare.

“
Just a glancing blow,” said the
countermeasures officer. “The
Akiba
and
Kurefune
are combining plasma screens with ours—we
shouldn’t see another one like that get through.”

“
Sir, the Hameji point ships are
within range and firing on our rear!”

“
All ships reporting heavy
crossfire,” said the communications officer, her voice cracking.
“We can’t sustain this attack much longer.”

“
How much damage is the
Demon of
Tenguri
taking?” Katsuichi asked, clenching his fists. “Tell me
we’re doing something!”

“
Some of our shots are getting
through now, but the armor is deflecting most of it,’ said the
gunnery officer. “I’m sorry, Sir, but there’s not much else we can
do.”

Another explosion rocked
the
Divine
Wind,
sending
Katsuichi to his knees. Kenta helped him up again, but there was a
deadness in the samurai’s eyes that betrayed just how close they
were to failure.

“
Well, intensify our firepower,”
said Katsuichi, his voice hoarse and weak. “We can’t stop
now—can’t—”

“
Sir, I’m receiving an urgent
transmission from the
Mikawa
,” said the communications officer. “Shall I put
him through?”

Katsuichi nodded, collapsing into his seat.
Overhead, the constant flash of plasma bursts made him shield his
eyes.

“
Your Imperial Highness,” came
Admiral Uematsu’s voice over the din of the alarms. “I must
apologize for the loss of the
Mikawa.
”

“
What are you talking about?”
Katsuichi asked, frowning. “Commander, I—”

“
It has been the greatest honor
of my life to fly with you, Your Highness. I hope that my sacrifice
will not be in vain.”

The transmission died, while on
the holographic projection of the battle, the blue point
representing the
Mikawa
broke formation and made a beeline straight for the
Demon of
Tenguri.
Shuttles and escape pods trailed in its wake, while the
Hameji flagship directed its railgun and plasma fire at the Rigelan
cruiser, pummeling it repeatedly.

“
Sir,” said the communications
officer, “Admiral Uematsu has abandoned ship and is sustaining
intense fire. Hull integrity is falling—”

“
Stars,” said the pilot, “he’s
making a kamikaze run.”

Katsuichi’s eyes widened as the
blue point shot faster and faster towards the red dot at the center
of the projection. Too late, Tagatai banked his flagship in a
clumsy attempt to evade the oncoming starship—but seconds later,
the
Mikawa
collided.

A brilliant pinkish-white light
filled the bridge of the
Divine Wind,
making him shield his eyes again. Only one thing
could explain such blazing power—a blast from a nuclear warhead.
The patter of debris and blaring of alarms broke the deafening
silence, while the afterglow of the explosion lingered several
moments after the initial blast.

“
By the sacred stars of Earth,”
muttered Kenta. He fell to one knee and bowed his head.

“
Sir!” shouted the gunnery
officer, his eyes wide with glee. “The—the
Demon of Tenguri,
it’s—”

“
Gone,” said the communications
officer, covering her mouth with her hand.

Katsuichi turned to the holographic
projection and stared in disbelief at what he saw. The red dot
marking Tagatai’s ship was gone, with faint lines tracing the
debris outward from the blast. Two heavily damaged Rigelan cruisers
were listing near the wreckage, but other than that, there was no
sign of anything within a good ten kilometers—not even an escape
pod.

“
We did it,” he said, his heart
pounded with excitement. “Tagatai’s flagship, the
Hameji—”

“
It’s finished,” said Kenta,
putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve won.”

* * * * *

Hikaru stared at the dull gray ceiling of
the shuttle, tracing the line of hand-holds from the cockpit at the
front to the airlock in the back. On the floor and seats around
her, the soldiers slept in hammocks strung across every possible
space, making it impossible to get through without jostling
someone. Yet as the bathroom door of the overcrowded shuttle
slipped open, another soldier did just that, followed by the next
in line to use the facilities. She covered her mouth at the stench,
but only halfheartedly. Just a week ago, she would have found these
conditions intolerable—but now, she didn’t even know if she cared
anymore.

Almost forty-eight hours had passed since
they’d touched down on the surface of the dead, sunless
world—forty-eight hours that felt like an eternity. It was almost
as if she’d stepped out of her life and into a sort of parallel
existence, one without beginning or end, where everything she’d
ever known or experienced had never happened.