Winds of Vengeance (38 page)

“Main guns are offline, Admiral.” Kemp’s voice was hoarse, raw…but he was keeping calm even in the face of certain destruction. Frette was impressed with her people, all of them. Her surviving ships were still in the line, fighting an increasingly hopeless struggle. She’d have given Kemp a decoration, and Strand too…if any of them were ever getting back.

“Divert available power to secondaries.” There was nothing else to do. The primaries were done, she knew that. And she doubted the reactor would last much longer anyway. Better to take what shots she still had than wish for what she didn’t.

“
Bandelero
and
Winchester
…Code Omega.”

Two more of her ships, sending out the code that meant a vessel was facing imminent destruction. A third of her ships were gone…and the rest wouldn’t last long.

“Admiral…”

As soon as she heard Kemp’s voice she knew something else was wrong.

“We’re picking up energy readings from the G40 warp gate. Probes coming through.”

She felt cold inside. She’d deployed her fleet just in front of the warp gate. It had been training, instinct…to positon herself so her forces had a line of retreat. She’d done it even though she knew she couldn’t use it, couldn’t lead the enemy closer to Earth Two. But now the enemy was coming from there too. The implications were sobering…the enemy was in far more systems that she’d anticipated. But more urgent was the fact that in a few seconds she would have an enemy force emerging from the warp gate directly to her rear.

Now it was truly over. In a few minutes her ships would be gone, all of them…caught between two enemy lines and obliterated.

I’m sorry, Erika. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better…

Chapter Thirty-Two

Admiral Erika West Fleet Communique

We have come here to the aid of our friends, our comrades…and the probes tell a clear story. We have arrived just in time. I could give a long speech, tell you all of the fleet’s history, of the great battles fought and won, of heroes and courage. But you need none of that. All you need is to know what the probes have reported. Beyond this warp gate our brothers and sisters fight, even now, against overwhelming odds. Alone they are doomed. But they are not alone, not any longer. All ships, forward, maximum thrust. Transit through the warp gate and advance into the fight. All captains, fire at will, engage the enemy, go to the aid of our people…for there is no time to spare. Our comrades are dying with each passing minute.

Go! Forward! And carry with you the spirit of Admiral Compton, and all the great warriors of the fleet, lost years ago and yet still with us always!

E2S Constitution

System G42

Earth Two Date 01.08.31

“I want those systems back online now!” Erika West roared, berating her hapless tactical officer in the same way captains had been doing for almost two centuries. The effect of warp transits was well known, and some mystery remained about the variation in reboot times. The difference was usually minor, a range of perhaps one minute to three. But in battle, those two minutes could be the difference between victory and defeat, life and death.

“Yes, Admiral.” The response was routine, programmed. There was nothing Commander Corker—or all the engineers on
Constitution
—could do that they weren’t already doing. A sharp crew could shave a few seconds off reboot time, but
Constitution’s
people were already doing that.

John Corker was hunched over his station, staring at the dark screens. West knew her crew was as tense as she was, that they were well aware of what they faced. She hadn’t said anything, but she suspected most of her people realized their survival required not just victory, but the utter annihilation of the enemy fleet. There would be no retreat, no escape. They were all expendable…better every man and woman in the fleet die than lead the enemy back to Earth Two.

West’s eyes caught a hint of light, and they snapped down to her own workstation. Her screen had lit up, a staticky pattern replacing the blackness that had been there a second before. The AI was rebooting, and along with it every electronic system on
Constitution
. She had made hundreds of transits in her career, thousands…many into combat, as now. But she was tense in a way she had never been before.

You’ve never been rushing in to save Nicki…knowing every second could be the one that makes you too late…

“Scanners coming online, Admiral…” Corker’s voice was distant, distracted. His attention was focused on his workstation, hands flying over the keyboards, doing everything he could to speed the reboot process.

“Very well, Commander.” West’s own eyes were fixed on the main display. The scanners had picked up the main bodies…the primary and the planets. Now they were adding detail. First, large energy readings, including two West knew could only be the destruction of spaceships. She couldn’t tell whose vessels they were, but her gut told her one, at least, had been an antimatter blast. That meant a First Imperium ship…

Slowly the two opposing fleets appeared on the display. Blue triangles—Frette’s ships—in a ragged line not far from the warp gate. And red circles—the First Imperium fleet—less than a hundred thousand kilometers farther away. Both forces were almost at a dead halt, standing still in space blasting away at each other. And there were a lot more red icons than blue ones.

“Fleet com?”

“Not yet, Admiral. Working on it.”

West knew she didn’t really need fleetwide communications. She had given her orders before the fleet transited…and she knew her people knew what to do. But she felt helpless sitting, waiting…watching her people die.

“We’ve got full reactor power, Admiral. Engineering reports engines operational and ready.”

West took a deep breath. Normally, she’d take time to organize the fleet, put her ships into a carefully-planned formation. But there was no time. Her captains had their orders…advance as soon as possible. The tactics were simple. A wild charge into the fight…and then a deadly, toe to toe battle until one side was wiped out. It was basic, pure in its brutality. And Erika West was
Constitution’s
captain.

“Set a course to the center of the enemy line, Commander.”

“Yes, Admiral.” A few second later: “Course locked in, engines ready.”

“Weapons status?”

“All batteries on full alert. All crews report ready to fire.”

“Take us in, Commander Corker. Forty gees.” She paused. “Right into the center. Right down their throats.”

*    *    *

Frette looked through the smoky haze of
Compton’s
battered flag bridge, over toward Kemp. “What?” She’d heard her tactical officer’s words, but they still seemed fuzzy, unreal. It was impossible. But he had said it.

“The ships transiting now are ours, Admiral. Eighteen so far…and they’re still coming through. The lead vessels are accelerating toward the enemy at 40g.”

How? How could this be?

“Any ship IDs yet?” It seemed like a stupid question, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

“I think I’ve got
Constitution
, Admiral. Also,
Liberty
,
Sentinel
, and
Repulse
.”

Frette felt the shock again as Kemp snapped out each ship. The vessels he had named were all battleships, a huge chunk of the republic’s remaining firepower. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Erika…she came after us…

Frette felt a surge of energy. She’d been resigned to death, to the utter destruction of her fleet. But now her people had a chance. The excitement was quickly tempered by the realization that the forces now moving in from the warp gate were as trapped as her people. They’d come to rescue her fleet, but now they were stuck in an all or nothing fight. Destroy the enemy, utterly, down to the last ship. Or die trying. Those were the only options.

“Get me a fleetwide channel, Commander.”

“On your com, Admiral.”

Frette stared down at the com unit. “Ships of the fleet…our comrades have come to our aid. Even now, republic warships are pouring through the warp gate, moving to engage the enemy. You have fought well, savaged an enemy force that greatly outnumbers you. Yet now I will ask for even more. You must continue the fight, all or you, find strength that seems unattainable. We must hold…hold for the precious minutes until our comrades enter combat range. And we must inflict as much damage as we can. This fight will be to the finish…and we owe those who came to our aid all we can still give toward securing the victory!”

She flipped off the com unit. “Commander…bring us around. All operational guns are to maintain maximum fire.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Frette turned toward the main display. The enemy had been advancing, enveloping her line…but now they were pulling back, reacting to the ships coming through the warp gate. They were still firing, but the repositioning was cutting their firepower. It was just the chance her people needed.

“Admiral, communication from
Constitution
. Admiral West on your line.

Frette leaned down, slapping her hand on the com. “Erika?”
Constitution
was less than a light second away now, but the delay was still noticeable.

“Nicki…”

She could hear the urgency, the emotion in West’s normally cold tone.

“You shouldn’t have come…we can’t risk leading them back home…”

Frette sat in her chair, crouched over the com unit, waiting for the response.

“No, we can’t…which is why we’re going to destroy every one of them.” The frozen tone in West’s voice left no doubt she was here to crush the enemy, whatever the cost. “Keep your people in the fight, Nicki…we need every gun.”

“I will.” Frette paused. “And Erika, thank you…”

That was the last thing she said.
Compton
shook violently, the lights flickering and the sounds of nearby explosions crashing loudly. The artificial gravity failed for an instant and then reengaged at double strength…just as a structural support snapped in half and crashed to the deck.

“Nicki?” West’s voice was tinny, distorted. The speaker had cracked as a chunk of hyper-steel hit it…the massive girder that now lay over Nicki Frette’s motionless body.

“Nicki…Nicki…”

*    *    *

“All squadrons, we’ve got reinforcements inbound, but we’ve got to hold these bastards back.” Cooper McDaid had his hand on the throttle, bringing his fighter around even as he addressed the survivors of his strike force. He’d lost a third of his ships already, but he’d pushed those thoughts aside. He’d been resigned to the fact that all his people were facing death, that their launch platforms would be blown to atoms before they could return and land. But now he felt a glimmer of hope, and a renewed sense of duty. The new ships pouring into the system still had a fight on their hands…and he knew well enough they could still lose. The First Imperium forces had taken more damage than anyone had expected, but there was still a powerful force in place.

“Admiral West needs us. Admiral Frette needs us. I know you’re exhausted, I know we have expended our primary armaments…but now we’re going back at those bastards, and we’re going to do strafing runs until our laser cannon are melted wrecks.”

Or until we’re all blown away…

“Follow me…it’s time for the fighter corps to do its job…”

McDaid knew his people had already done their job. The fighters had savaged the enemy line with their torpedo runs, destroying several of the Leviathans outright and badly damaging many more. But there was more to do…and no rest, no salvation until the enemy was beaten.

“Pick your targets, find the crippled ships and finish them off.” He knew what he was asking, and he was sure his people did too. The fighter lasers weren’t strong enough weapons to destroy enemy battleships, not unless the pilots brought their craft in on nearly suicidal runs, firing at point blank range and targeting already damaged vessels. He knew they’d take out a few more ships that way…and they’d lose more of their number too.

He angled his throttle, moving toward an enemy battleship. The Leviathan was badly damaged, moving forward at moderate speed, but with no thrust that he could detect. The ship was firing at
Compton
, its main battery still firing, despite what was clearly massive damage.

His eyes zeroed in on the ship, his hand tightening on the throttle. He felt strange, distraught about the people he’d lost, scared for himself and his fighter’s crew…but there was something else, controlled rage, the lust for the kill. He felt a determination to destroy this ship that was firing on
Compton
, on the fleet’s flagship…his own mothership.

He imagined Greta Hurley, back in the days of the fleet. He wondered what she would do, what thoughts would have gone through her head. He hoped she would have approved of his leadership…that she would have forgiven him for the losses his men and women had suffered. Would continue to suffer.

He stared hard at the enemy battleship, altering his ship’s vector to a direct approach. “Alright, guys…” He turned his head briefly, staring back at his two gunners. “I’m going to bring us right down their throat…make it count.”

He turned back, staring straight ahead. His eyes darted to the side, reading the rapidly declining numbers. Forty thousand kilometers. Thirty-five thousand.

He felt the fighter shake hard as a point defense rocket detonated nearby. It hadn’t been close enough to damage his ship, but it had been too close for comfort. He tapped the throttle to one side…then to the next, bringing the fighter in on a zigzag pattern. The defensive fire was thick, the scanner showing the energy bursts where laser needle gun blasts ripped through space all around the fighter.

Twenty-five thousand.

McDaid squeezed his hand tightly around the throttle. He felt his finger moving toward the firing stud. It was instinct…he knew very well he didn’t have any torpedoes left. And that meant he had to get his gunners in close.
Really
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