The Mandate of Heaven (41 page)

Therefore, it was perfectly reasonable that it continued, unimpeded, to approach the side of the destroyer
Intrepid
.  The captain of the freighter, a grizzled veteran, that had been trawling the space-lanes long before most of the crew of the
Intrepid
had even been born, yawned in the face of their strenuous objections.  The
Intrepid
was more than welcome to lend a hand, by giving them a tow, but nothing short of that was going to be able to move them away any quicker than they were already accelerating.

Only a few hundred metres apart, the
Intrepid
was completely taken by surprise to discover that the contents of the freighter were
not
several thousand bulk shipping containers, but instead several dozen, short-range, high-explosive, multiple launch rocket systems.  They also discovered that the gaping holes in the hull were perfectly concealed launch tubes and, therefore, the first that the
Intrepid
knew of the potential danger, was when the freighter opened fire—at point blank range.

Over a hundred missiles, simultaneously ignited, left tongues of fire in their wake as they thundered from their launch racks, traversing the short distance to their target in seconds.  The missiles detonated on impact, the full force of the blasts tearing apart armour plating, weapons blisters and hull.  As soon as the first missiles left the launch rack, the automatic re-loader rotated the magazine, bringing the next missile in-line with the launch tube, before this too leapt from the launcher.  This cycle repeated several times, until all the magazines were empty.  The entire process took nothing more than a dozen seconds, in which time the freighter had launched almost five hundred missiles, into the side of the destroyer.

A broadside of unimaginable destructive power.

As the two ships drifted apart, the damage became immediately apparent, as the entire starboard side of the
Intrepid
was torn to shreds.  Fires were clearly observable running the length of the ship, where missiles had penetrated the armour, breaching the side of the ship and igniting the atmosphere contained within.  Several subsequent explosions could be seen, as fires raged unimpeded, finally reaching the ammunition magazines stored near the centre of the ship. These were clearly visible hundreds of kilometres distant, appearing like flares arching through the inky blackness of space.

But worse was still yet to come, as dozens of other ships that had been floating, aimlessly, in the vicinity, suddenly powered up their engines, changing course to intercept the now crippled warship.  One-by-one concealed gun ports opened on these ships, as weapon batteries were deployed, opening fire as soon as the ships were in range.  The destroyer seemed to physically recoil from the incoming weapons fire as it broke formation with the rest of the fleet, trying to put as much physical distance between itself and its pursuers as possible.  The attackers mercilessly gave chase, continuing to pour gunfire into the stern of the retreating warship.

Still this was no isolated incident, as simultaneously the rest of the fleet came under fire from the surrounding ships.  All were taken by complete surprise, having no advanced warning, and many ships were crippled before they even had a chance to return fire.  The surrounding space came alive with gunfire, lasers and missiles, becoming a swirling maelstrom of death and destruction—with the Battlecruiser
Valkyrie
at the very heart of the storm.

*****

“By the High-Lords,” Admiral Sloane cried in horror, seeing devastation everywhere he looked. Crippled ships were all that remained of his fleet.

“Admiral,” the Operations Officer shouted.  “We’ve lost the
Intrepid
,
Dauntless
and
Spirit
, all remaining ships are reporting massive damage.  It was a trap.  We were so focused on taking
Elysium Fields
, that we didn’t give a second thought to the other ships.  Admiral, we must retreat!”

“No,” Sloane bellowed, turned his back on the carnage taking place outside.  “I won’t allow some fool to make a mockery of me and this fleet.  What is the status of the
Valkyrie
?”

“Only superficial damage, Admiral.  The rest of the fleet was in close escort formation around us, hence none of the enemy ships could approach, but what can we do?  We can’t fight all of them.”

“The rest of these ships are not my concern, our primary objective is
Elysium Fields
.  Helm, full power to engines.  Tactical, bring our main guns on-line, clear us a path to that station, I plan on finishing what we started.”

Slowly, but with gathering speed, the
Valkyrie
started to pull away from the rest of the fleet.  The surrounding pirate ships, taken by surprise at the movement tried to intercept.  However, most couldn’t match the powerful engines and rapid acceleration of the battlecruiser.  They were the fortunate ones, as the smaller, more agile ships that could match its acceleration and moved to intercept, soon came within range of its powerful guns.

Armed with thirty inch, fifty calibre guns, they could fire a two thousand kilogram armour piercing, or high explosive shell, accurate to one hundred metres.

For the smaller, more lightly armoured ships that were able to keep pace with the battlecruiser, their effects were devastating, with several smaller frigates disintegrating under the withering fire from the main guns.  A large, lumbering freighter, blocking the path of the rapidly approaching warship, took several rounds of incoming fire.  These penetrated the side of the ship, passing clear through its superstructure before exiting the other side. The freighter managed to survive these, only for the guns on the
Valkyrie
to switch to high-explosive rounds.  The next barrage cut the freighter to pieces, the debris that remained was left in the wake of the fusion engines from the battlecruiser.

The few remaining ships, recognising the futility of stopping the battlecruiser and not being paid enough to commit suicide by getting in range of its guns, fell back from the pursuit, turning their weapons on the few ships remaining of the Fifth Fleet.

Meanwhile the Battlecruiser
Valkyrie
, now unimpeded, continued to accelerate in the direction of
Elysium Fields
, which minute by minute, drew closer, and into the range of the battlecruiser’s guns.

*****

Bullets flew everywhere.  Literally.

For the soldiers had forgotten Newton’s third law of motion: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  Hence, when they opened fire, for every pound of force exerted by the expanding gas, which forced the rounds out of their weapons, an equal, and opposite force, was being exerted on them.  The result was instant, and spectacular, as they were propelled around the corridor like miniature rockets.  While the first few rounds went in approximately the right direction, the rest sprayed everywhere.  Several of the troops suffered self-inflicted gunshot wounds, although fortunately, none were fatal.

“I’ve never seen such a bunch of useless amateurs,” Sanderson sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, as he watched, wide-eyed, at the unfolding scene of carnage.  There was nothing that he needed do, as he was already forgotten, as instead the troops tried, haplessly, to control their flight.  This was mostly achieved by impacting, at terrifyingly high speed, into various doors, floors, ceilings and bulkheads.

Sanderson winced at every collision.

When things finally settled down, and the corridor, once packed with heavily armed troops, but now consisting of an assorted collection of bruised, bleeding, or concussed bodies, he pushed off, sailing serenely through the group and, catching hold of a door handle, pulled himself to a stop in front of one of the few remaining conscious and relatively uninjured soldiers, who promptly raised his rifle.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Sanderson said casually.  “The last time you tried that, you ended up in far worse condition than I.”

Glancing left, then right, the soldier observed the broken and bloodied bodies all around him and carefully removed his finger from the trigger.

“Good choice,” Sanderson nodded approvingly, withdrawing yet another cigar from his pocket.  “Perchance, you don’t happen to have a light, do you?”  At the wide-eyed look from the man, Sanderson sighed, reluctantly stuffing the cigar back into a pocket of his armour, that seemed suspiciously well placed, as if for just such a purpose.  “Next question, how many men do you have stationed between here and the docking bay?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Fair enough,” Sanderson nodded understandingly.  “Well, I’ll just step aside then and let Lady Hadley continue with the questioning.  If you decide to change your mind, just holler and I’ll come and try my best to re-attach your various appendages.  You do already have kids, right?  As I’m fairly sure that fatherhood is going to be completely out of the question from here on.”

The soldier gave him a wide-eyed expression, before leaning slightly to the side, to give him an unimpeded view of Jessica.

“She’s highborn and, accordingly to Colonel Grey, a completely ruthless, bloodthirsty, savage.  Come on man, work with me here.  This is Colonel Grey we are talking about, you know the killer of Capella?  According to him, she ripped the head off the last man that crossed her and all he did was proposition her!”

“Fine, fine, just keep her away from me.  We’re the rear-guard and except for the pilots there’s nobody else between us and the shuttles.  We thought we would be able to take you by surprise, and had been expecting reinforcements, although only the High-Lords know where they’ve gotten to.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” Sanderson commiserated, bashing the man over the back of the head with the butt of his pistol.  “You’re just the latest in a long line that’s underestimated the Colonel.  I doubt you’ll be the last, as I expect Stanton is finding out right this very minute, much to his dismay.  Moving on,” he called out loudly to the rest of the group, motioning them forward with his hand.

“What did you say to him?” Jessica asked as she passed the body of the man.  Watching him float away, adding him to the ranks of unconscious bodies already drifting in the eddies created by the station’s oxygen regeneration systems.  “He looked completely petrified.”

“I was just waxing, lyrically, about your many, fine, attributes,” Sanderson shrugged.  “The Colonel listed them to me, in excruciating detail.  I think he’s totally smitten with you.”

*****

Major Hargreaves was still several feet away, crawling on his hands and knees, to recover his pistol, when the boot came down, hard, on the back of his hand.  Crying out in pain, he instinctively snatched his hand back from underneath it.  Considering that his only remaining hand was not up to the task of taking his full weight, as it had already been cauterised from a fusion beam, it wasn’t surprising that he collapsed, landing face-first into the floor.

“Ouch.  Hargreaves, why am I not surprised to find you here.  A boot-licking toady like yourself, I would have thought lying prostrate on the ground would be your default posture.”

“Major Hargreaves,” the Major uttered between clenched teeth.

“Congratulations on your promotion.  If I had known, I would’ve sent flowers.”

“You always were a smug bastard, Colonel.  Now just get on with it, spare me the gloating and shoot me.”

“Certainly tempting,” Alex retorted.  “But first if you could point me in the direction of Stanton?  I seem to have misplaced him.”

“Go to hell,” the Major cursed.

“Already been there, done it, got the scars to show for it,” Alex shrugged, purposefully grinding the heel of his boot against Hargreaves fingers, until the man couldn’t remain silent any longer, screaming out loud in pain.  “Now where is Stanton?”

However, before the Major could reply, a dark shape came whirling out of the darkness, striking Alex across the shoulder blades with a metal bar.  The bar struck Alex where the bullet fragments had earlier penetrated his armour, and this time it was his turn to scream in pain.  The spasm that wracked his body caused the fusion pistol to fly from his grasp and it went spinning across the floor, only to be consumed by the darkness.  Falling to his knees, the blackness reached out for him and he had to take several deep, shuddering breaths, to push it back again.  Glancing up, he observed the distinctly recognisable shape of High-Lord Stanton step out of the shadows, into the light.

“Never mind,” Alex muttered.  “I’ve just found him.”

*****

“Turn the ship around!”

The frantic cry echoed throughout the bridge, but this time it didn’t originate from one of the officers, but Lord Granville, himself.

“What?” the Captain replied, shocked by the outburst.  “The ship doesn’t have any engines, we cannot turn and run.”

“What are you talking about, man? If you still want to get paid, pay more attention.”

“It would be nice to
have
been paid,” the Captain muttered to himself, before continuing on more loudly.  “I’m sorry my Lord, but I don’t understand.”

“Alex, he kept going on about this ship, I could never get him to shut up about it.  One thing I distinctly remember him constantly saying was that the armour was strongest at the front.  Something about the sloped gun decks being designed to deflect any incoming projectiles, because of its angle, deflection and armour penetration.  To be frank I rarely understood what the boy was babbling on about, but what I do know is we need to point the front of the ship in their direction.”