The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (46 page)

“Continue to hold position,” commanded Adiger.

“Sir, our shields have collapsed and our armor is in tatters,” said the Defense chief.

Outside the windows, the flashing continued, as beam strike after beam strike hit the defenders’ starships.

“Sir, the enemy formation is coming around for another assault,” said the Ops chief.

“I don’t think we will survive much longer if we remain here,” said the Defense chief.

“Have some faith,” said Adiger, almost as much to reassure himself as them. Even a cursory glance at the tactical display showed the number of local blue and green lights outnumbered, and continuing to disappear, one by one, all the time. “More defenders are on their way.”

In fact, that was true, not just some vague hope to cling to out of desperation. Although the enemy’s assault on this position was heavily concentrated, ruthless, and quickly overpowering what few defenders remained, more were indeed coming.

Sir Arkwright understood the tactical implications of the portside flank collapsing again. Therefore, he could not afford to allow it, Adiger knew, which was why he had commanded Fleet Admiral Zeller, aboard the ISS
Assassin
, to immediately maneuver his starship and the rest of the Fifth Fleet, just over one-hundred capital ships, to help bolster the defenders’ position.

All that mattered, until Fleet Admiral Zeller arrived, was that the position remain held. Should the enemy overwhelm them first, and occupy this space, then they would simply destroy the
Assassin
and all its forces upon their arrival. It would also expose the ISS
Victory
to attacks along its weakest side, and probably result in the total collapse of the entire defensive formation.

All we have to do
, thought Adiger,
is survive and hold this position long enough for Fleet Admiral Zeller to arrive.

“Sir, the enemy formation is fast approaching. They are preparing their next attack,” said the Ops chief.

“Captain, based on the reports I’m getting…I do not believe it is possible for us to survive this attack.”

“And the other ships around us, our allies, are they not as beaten and damaged as we are?” asked Adiger.

“They are,” admitted the Ops officer. “Many of them in even worse condition than us.”

“And you would have us abandon them?” asked Adiger.

No one replied.

“How would it be for us if they abandoned us here, to save themselves, and only we remained to hold this position for Fleet Admiral Zeller?” asked Adiger.

Again, no one replied. Though, by the expressions on their faces, he could tell he’d given them something to think about.

“We all know how important holding this position is, no matter what the enemy throws at us,” said Adiger boldly. “Whatever the odds, no matter how grim, we
must
hold!”

“I agree with you, sir,” said the Defense chief. “I am only stating that, based on this information, an attack force of that size, utilizing their weapons like they have each other time they have attacked, well, frankly, this time we will not be able to resist them.”

“Then we find a way!” said Adiger.

“The enemy has arrived,” said the Ops chief.

Immediately after, the Defense chief spoke up, becoming instantly focused upon his terminals and what his staff was pointing out to him. “Sir,” he said. “We are taking fire. I detect multiple ships locking onto us.”

Flashes appeared and the
Black Swan
was struck, repeatedly, by beam weapons from the enemy warships. Without shields, and with minimal armor, the strikes did extreme damage to the
Black Swan
’s hull. Adiger looked at the damage display and noticed various spots of the ship had now lit up red, indicating a risk of hull failure.

Come on, you tough old bird
, he thought,
you’re the
Black Swan
, you can survive this!

The
Black Swan
returned fire; all his weapons crews were under standing orders to fire at will. And so the dreadnought opened fire at the formation of enemy warships, hitting them back with everything the
Black Swan
had—managing to destroy several of the smaller warships. When he saw some of the red lights disappear, Adiger clenched his right fist in triumph.

Atta Girl
, he thought.
I know you can take whatever they can throw at us and more
, he tried to convince himself.

Still, the increased number of red warning lights appearing on the damage display—more and more every second—was alarming.

“How long before Zeller and his fleet arrive?” asked Adiger.

“By my best estimate,” said the Ops officer, “Accounting for their current speed, I would say they will be in firing range of the enemy in just under thirty seconds.”

“Then we shall find thirty seconds!” said Adiger.

“Sir, the hull is buckling; I do not believe we can withstand this attack for that long,” said the Defense chief.

But the reinforcements are so close; we cannot allow the enemy to take this position from us now…that would erase all that we have done and sacrificed to maintain it and keep the formation intact
, thought Adiger.

“Somehow, some way, we shall do it,” he said.

“As you say, sir,” said the Defense chief, whose face looked ghostly white and the tone of his voice was clearly that of a dead man, walking toward his own gallows.

Maybe he’s right
, thought Adiger.
Maybe we cannot survive that long. But still, holding this position until Zeller arrives is more important. The entire defense depends upon it!

Suddenly, everything went dark, all systems offline. It only lasted for a second, and then power was restored, but for a moment there, the bridge and all its consoles and controls were rendered useless.

“That’s not a good sign,” said the Comms chief.

“We must have some kind of electrical problem,” replied the Ops officer.

More flashes of light appeared, blinking out the window. Adiger instinctively braced himself, as if expecting the enemy fire to strike the bridge itself.

The systems went offline again. This time remaining so for at least three seconds. When they came back, Adiger could see on the damage display that seemingly the entire
Black Swan
was covered up by bright red alert notices.

“Sir, we’ve experience a hull breach,” said the Ops officer. “Strike that, we have confirmed multiple hull breaches on the starboard side. Affecting decks ten, fourteen, sixteen, and nineteen, sir.”

“Yaw hard starboard,” commanded Adiger, intending to position their slightly stronger portside to face the enemy. That should buy them a few more seconds anyway. And Admiral Zeller and his forces would be in range imminently.

“I have no flight controls,” reported the helmsman.

“Sir,” said the Ops chief, “The breaches are not contained. I repeat, the containment systems did not deploy. We are losing atmosphere on those decks. Soon it will affect the entire ship.”

As he said it, alarms sounded and a voice repeated over the loudspeakers “Warning, uncontained hull breaches detected. Decks ten, fourteen, sixteen and nineteen are compromised. Please evacuate all affected areas immediately. Warning, uncontained…” the voice repeated itself, though the number of affected decks, and uncontained hull breaches was larger the second time around.

“Sir, Fleet Admiral Zeller and his forces are now with range to engage the enemy. They report they have commenced fire!” said the Comms chief.

A cheer filled the bridge. Although the
Black Swan
itself was still bleeding to death, and they all knew it. And, should they take any more fire, they were certain to be destroyed. This must have been obvious to Fleet Admiral Zeller also.

“Sir,” said the Comms chief. “Fleet Admiral Zeller says he has commanded seven of his capital ships to move directly between us and the enemy formation. Their mission is to draw the enemy’s fire and obstruct any further attacks against this ship.”

Good
, thought Adiger,
that should buy us some time to try to fix this mess and get flight controls back. Not to mention seal off the unaffected decks and preserve whatever atmosphere we have left
.

The lights and systems went down again, filling the bridge with darkness. This time, it gave Adiger an ominous feeling.

“Not this again,” said the Defense chief. They waited for the systems to come back online again but, as the seconds went by, it soon became obvious that they had gone down for good.

“Now what?” asked Adiger, looking in the direction of his Ops chief, who might or might not have been able to see him, given the minimal lighting.

“This is a problem for the engineering department,” said the Ops chief. “I have no way of…” he paused as they all noticed more flashes out the window.
And the question on each of their minds was, are those strikes directed at us, or did Zeller’s ships get into position in time?

Adiger broke the silence, “I suggest we—”

He never got the chance to finish his sentence.

In what must have been only a millisecond, everything came completely apart. Adiger had just enough time to realize that he was suddenly floating, no longer bound by any gravity. Immediately after having that thought, some kind of debris struck him. He didn’t even have the chance to see what it was before the blackness took him.

***

Calvin stared, completely frozen, gawking in disbelief at what he saw. The hatch was now open, but standing there, in the way, as if waiting for them, was, “
Summers?”
Calvin’s voice strained as he said her name.

Yet, somehow, there she was, in the flesh. As beautiful as ever. Although her uniform showed some signs of distress, and her hair was a jumble, not neat and orderly like she tended to keep it, he could even see what might have been soot on the left side of her face.

“Hello, Calvin,” she said. “What took you so long?”

Calvin shook his head, still in utter disbelief. “Summers?” he asked again.
But you died on the Nighthawk
, he thought. How was it possible that she was here, on a Hunter ship, a ship that belonged to either the Rahajiim or…the Dark Ones. Something clicked in Calvin’s brain.

He turned to Nikolai. “Dart her.”

“What?” Nikolai and Summers both asked simultaneously.

“I said,
dart
her,” Calvin repeated.

This time Nikolai understood what Calvin meant. This was not Summers. This was obviously a replicant, one of the Dark Ones. And he needed to dose her with equarius before he could believe otherwise. Nikolai drew his handgun and pointed it at Summers who, not quite sure how to react, covered her face and screeched.

There was a soft report and a needle shot from Nikolai’s handgun and struck Summers deep in the leg.

“Ouch!” she yelled, angrily. Then the equarius kicked in and she looked dizzy, perhaps even a little high, but certainly no longer in any pain and, as she did not shrivel up into a pile of disgusting goo, it meant she was the real Summers and not a replicant.

Calvin rushed through the hatch and caught Summers before she could lose her balance. After he entered the Hunter ship, his soldiers filed in also, each in turn, exactly as planned. Only there seemed to be no occupying force to challenge for control of the vessel. Everyone in the room, which appeared to be a converted cargo hold that now offered some limited seating for passengers, wore black-and-silver uniforms. Most looked distressed in some way or another; a few were weeping, either silently or openly, and the whole bunch of them, as a group, seemed collectively in shock. Calvin understood; part of him felt the exact same way.

He helped Summers over to a wall that she could lean against, just in case she should lose her balance, although she insisted repeatedly that she was fine now.

“Why the hell did you have your soldier shoot me with a goddamned dart?” she asked, her eyes narrowed angrily.

“You know why,” said Calvin. He then gave the people in the room a closer look. He saw many familiar faces; these were all people from the
Nighthawk
. In all, he counted twelve of them, including Summers. None of the other faces were people he knew personally to any real degree of familiarity. There were acquaintances and even some strangers, faces Calvin recognized, but whose names he had forgotten or else never bothered to learn. It was strange to think there had been a time when he’d known the name of every person on the ship, and now…he was ashamed to admit, so many of them were just crewmen to him. Junior officers, one no different from another.

“Is this everybody who made it off the ship?” asked Calvin, again looking at Summers, who, he noted, had decided to use the wall for support after all.

“Three more are in the cockpit, another is injured and resting in the aft storage unit,” she replied. She told him their names. As XO, she had overseen all the fine details of the personnel assignments, and therefore she knew who everyone was. Calvin, however, was at a disadvantage and, although most of the names sounded familiar, he could not put faces to any of them, except one.