He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (47 page)

“Aye, sir, rapid fire mode it is.”

*  *  *  *  *  *

Mike tensed as Cindy Loftland pulled the Nemesis round, thinking about Cynthia’s words about ship’s turning too fast.  He hoped her faith in the structural integrity of this ship were right.

“As hard as you can, Cindy, ignore the stops.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Cindy did, and they all felt the sideways pull of inertia. Somewhere deep within the ship the inertia-damping generator moaned in protest at the load.

“Shield to Max!”  The XO called out, panting for breath and holding onto his seat so he wouldn’t slide out.  “All weapons fire as they bare.”

“Acknowledge, XO.”  Even Mike, with his enhanced muscle felt the strain as inertia tried to pull him out of his seat.  “Helm, roll ship ninety degrees.”

“Aye-aye, sir,  Roll ninety degrees it is.”  The moment Cindy rolled her onto her side, the sideways pull diminished slightly, now pulling them ‘down’ into the seats. 

“Torps and missiles to sprint mode if you please, Mr. Standish.”

“Aye, Skipper, spring mode it is.  Let see if all our training paid off.” Pete answered, breathing easier now.

“If not, Pete, I’m going to demote every Marine aboard this bucket!  And cut their pay!”  The two Marines holding onto the safety bar by the main hatch grinned mirthlessly.  If their training didn’t pay off, they’d all be dead.

“Rear main weapon firing, sir, launching torps and missile.”

“Any luck with the first spread, Jan?”

“No, sir, they got them all.”

“Damn!  I was hoping we get one or two into her.”

“Forward torpedo room to Bridge?”

“XO, go.”

“I have two more decoys to go, XO.”

“Good work, Adam.  Stand by.”  Pete Standish looked over his shoulder at Mike.

“Not yet, Pete.  Hold... hold... hold.. Launch!”

“Decoy torpedoes away, sir.”

“Acknowledge”

“God, she’s coming on fast.  We will be within knife fighting rang within less than a minute.”

“Hard and fast, Mr. Standish, hard and fast.”

“Aye, sir.

“Helm, get on her tail and stay there.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Secondary batteries only back there.”

“Right, Pete, and no torps that we know of.”

*  *  *  *  *  *

“What kind of ship is that?”  Captain Dastard yelled, sweating inside his battle armor.  His faceplate snapped shut as they popped hull plates and started leaking air.

“Nothing in our database, sir. She unknown.”

“Not Royal Navy, sir.”

“She’s no bigger than a Corvette, sir.”

“A Corvette!  But whose?”

“Unknown configuration, sir.”

“Corvette’s don’t go up against two Destroyers and a Cruiser, damn it!  They don’t carry the fire power.”  Yet this one did, and was beating the hell out of his command.

Ten torpedoes and an equal number of missiles leaped towards them in waves, far more than an ordinary Corvette could carry.  Their intermixing ECM and ECCM units screaming their electronic heads off to confuse the point defense, then something else.  Whatever it was, all the screens exploded in a whitewash of static as countless returns overloaded their systems.  They were virtually blind.

“I’ve lost contact - point defense is down - secondary weapons have lost lock, sir.”  The weapons officer bleated.  “Torps and missiles running wild, Captain.” It sounded like a death kneel to him as a weapons system after weapons system lost contact with the other ship.

“Helm, take us back into the cloud!”  He yelled in panic.  “Get us out of here.”

With the forces available to him, what at first looked like nothing more than a short exercise in space combat had suddenly turned into a life of death struggle again as ship that either one of his Destroyers should have been able to defeat with ease.  They were now both lifeless wrecks, and that little monster of a ship was coming after him.  A ship a quarter of his size, a quarter of his fire capacity, a quarter of his torpedo and missile capacity, so why was he about to die?  Who was she?  Where has she come from?  Who would build such a nasty little ship? So many unanswered questions and no answers.  He watched the star stream across the screen in dread, knowing he’d left it too late.

“Aye, sir, reversing course.” The order came far too late to save them. The wild weasel missiles swung wide and came back in to impact on his rear just as the main group came straight in.  His point defense did yeoman’s work, but blinded as they were, they could get nearly enough

*  *  *  *  *  *

“Yea Gods, that poor bastard didn’t know what hit him.”

Janice was right, the Sirrien Cruiser was a complete wreck.  From the number of holes in her hull, most if not all of the torpedoes and missile made contact.  Even as they watched, secondary explosions ripped her open, and they saw life pods ejecting just before the fusion bottle exploded, blowing her apart, and taking many of them of the life pods with her.  For a brief moment, Mike felt a sense of loss for all those men and woman who’s just died.  Was killing each other the only way to solve their differences?

“Phew!  That canister must have overwhelmed their sensors.” Gable looked dumbstruck.

“Those gunner didn’t know what to shoot at.”

More than one looked thoughtfully at the expanding plasma cloud, seeing the results of space combat first hand, rather than from some dry text book.  Textbooks have no soul and can never impart the true feeling of what it’s like to be in combat.  It never mentions the taste you had in your mouth, the smell of fear sweat on your clothes,  your sweaty palms, or the gut and ass tightening feeling you get knowing that one of those torpedoes, or missiles might have your name on it.  A textbook can never really tell you why you stay at your post when your mind is screaming at you to run.  Run before the incoming death reaches you, run and hide somewhere, anywhere, but you stay, glued to your seat, some sobbing some crying, but you stay and do your duty despite that fear.  Nor can a textbook really tell you about the feeling of relief after death passes you by.  Or that slight feeing of guilt when you hear someone else died instead of you, or hiding the slight feeling of guilt you have after you stop cheering at the destruction of an enemy ship, when you see the bodies of your dead foe floating lifeless in space.

“Heads up people, let’s get out of here before something else shows up, we are getting low on ammo.”  Everyone immediately put their attention back to their tasks, but it was another fifteen minutes before Janice sounded out.  “Helm, set a course for warp point Zulu, highest possible speed.”

Conner Blake switched with an exhausted Cindy Loftland and brought the ship round on a new heading and rang for full ahead.  Three hours later, they found the two fighters, and after some quick signals back and forth, they brought them aboard.  Mike waited until they passed through the warp point and were well on their way to the next one before he told Pete Standish to stand the crew down from yellow alert.  He finally took a break himself, after almost sixteen hours, but didn’t remember much after taking a shower, just that he made it to his bunk before the lights went out.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Prince Philip adjusted the lace cuff of his shirt, his face impassive as he listened to the Admiral try to explain what happened at Star Base 3.  He fluffed the cuff a little more, finally satisfied, then looked up.

“So, what you are telling me is, that some unidentified ship, of unknown size and origin entered our space and launched a raid to sabotage the solar furnace, shipyards and the space station.”

“That's not exactly what I’m saying, your Majesty, I can only surmise what might have happened from the evidence.”  Admiral Merck felt his armpit getting damp, his eyes flicking to the two black uniformed men standing behind the Prince’s chair.

They were identical, blond hair, blue eye and 6’- 3” tall.  Two more stood against the far wall, and without looking, he knew two more stood behind him.  Looking directly into their eye was frightening, and he could feel them watching him.  The expression on their faces blank, as if carved out of stone.  He swallowed carefully and continued.

“At first, all indications are that the tracking stabilizers on the solar array malfunctioned, and the beam began missing the crucible and hitting the space yards as it oscillated back and forth.”

“And you did nothing?”  Prince Phillips tone was frosty.

“No, sir, as per standing orders we remained on station against possible attack.”

“And you didn’t think it strange?”

“No, sir, it has happened before, but not to this extent.”

“And what about this strange report of a supposed Sirrien Mercenary ship operation in the region”

“I didn’t see any connection between the two evens.”

“Even thought we don’t have any mercenary ships working under letters of Marquee?”

“I didn’t know that, your Majesty.”

“I see, and then?”

“The oscillation got worse and the beam began striking in a wider and wider arc.  At one point I felt it must have hit the Star Base itself, as we started receiving frantic messages about explosions on board.”  Admiral Merck felt sweat running down his side under his uniform, and if anything, the expression of the black uniformed men’s face became grimmer.  He almost had the impression they leaned slightly forward, in anticipation.

“Go on.”

“At that point, ships started departing the base, and I dispatched two picket ships to assist in restoring some sort of order, and lend assistance where needed.”

“You didn’t think to send a ship, or some Marines to investigate the explosions?”

“No, sir, your Majesty, I saw no reason at that time, putting all the destruction down to the malfunctioning solar furnace.”  The Prince pursed his lips, then stroked his thin jaw, eye as cold as ice.

“At what point did you suspect something different, Admiral?”  He asked softly.

“When the launch bay in the military section exploded, sir.”

“And why would that event penetrate that thick skull of yours?”

“Umm, well.  Sir, the launch bay is on the other side from the solar furnace, so there’s no way it could have caused such massive damage.  Also, right after the first series of explosive, the tactical officer reported three ships departing shortly before the main explosions.”

“And it took all that time before he noticed this?”

“Well, sir, there were many small ships departing the base, and it was very difficult to identify them all...  I did immediately order the two picket ships to investigate...”

“Why on Earth didn’t you issue orders to blow them out of space!”  The Prince screamed, half standing.  The crazed look in his eye made the Admiral shudder, knowing he was on the brink of madness.

“I didn’t know who they were, your Majesty, ours or someone else’s, thinking to capture them for interrogation.”  That seemed to calm the Prince for a moment, and he sat down again.

“Then what happened?”  The Admiral swallowed hard, clenching his fists to stop his hands shaking.

“The Tactical Officer tracked two torpedoes heading towards the picket ships from some unknown, or unidentified point of origin, sir, and before we could relay the information they struck destroying the engine rooms of both ships.”