Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II (16 page)

Indeed, his technicians were in the bays, working frantically in the brutal gee forces to keep the things from blowing up in their tubes. It was a reckless operation to risk such volatile ordnance, one he’d failed to mention to Admiral Compton. But if his people could pull it off, the enemy ships would be blindsided, hit with weapons of extraordinary power. Even the dark matter infused hulls of the First Imperium vessels would be powerless against the strength of Duke’s enhanced weapons. If he could get close enough, if his people could keep their payloads from blowing up and destroying their own vessels…they just might have a chance to win this fight.

But first, Mariko Fujin and her people had to take out some of those missiles. A lot of them. If his ships got too shaken up, if too many blasts of deadly radiation slammed into them from nearby nuclear detonations, they’d be finished. Any ship that lost control over its unstable torpedoes would turn instantly into a miniature sun…and when the explosion died down, there wouldn’t be anything left bigger than an atom.

He felt his hands tightening, forming into fists. The tension gnawed at him, his mind scrambling, trying to think of something, anything to do. But there was nothing. Nothing but to watch Fujin’s fighters…and hope for the best.

*    *    *

“Missiles incoming.” Fujin sat in her chair, speaking calmly into her com unit. “I want everybody at their best right now…whatever it takes, those missiles don’t get through. Not a damned one. Do you all understand me?” She knew that was a pointless thing to say. No matter how perfectly her people executed their defensive run, some missiles would get through. She was upset her wing had been assigned to anti-missile duty, and she knew she was taking it out on her crews. If Admiral Hurley was going to keep her back from the main attack, shooting at missiles instead of enemy ships, then she was damned sure going to blow any volleys in her way to bits.

Fujin was well aware that Greta Hurley had pioneered defensive tactics for fighter wings. Indeed, some of her first missions had been part of the massive groups of squadrons that had cleared the way for Admiral Garret’s massive fleets during the great climactic battles along the Line. Fujin knew firsthand how successful the operations had been, how many capital ships those hundreds of fighters had saved from certain destruction. Indeed, she knew that’s why her people were here now, staring down an incoming barrage of enemy warheads. But for all she understood, for all she’d served on these missions before, she was still a fighter pilot at heart…and that meant she wanted to be up on the line, ready to drop a plasma torpedo into the guts of one of those damned First Imperium ships. She’d accepted her orders, but she was restless about it, unhappy. Pissed.

“Okay, Lieutenant, you are at the disposal of the gunners now.” She knew Wainwright had never run defensive ops before, and she wanted to remind him the two weapons specialists were in charge. The pilot often fired the main torpedo during anti-ship operations, but the lasers and shotguns belonged to the gunners. She knew that was always uncomfortable for any pilot, most of whom considered a fighter ‘their ship’ regardless of rank or responsibility.

“Alright, Lieutenant, give us 2.5g for eight seconds, heading 305.111.201 on my mark…” Ensign Schultz was the senior of the two gunners. He was a junior officer, but his skill and experience went far beyond that implied by the single gold bar on his collar. Schultz had served six years as a petty officer in the CEL fighter corps, and another two as part of the grand fleet before Admiral Hurley had given him his commission. Fujin had snapped up the chance to get him on her bird after his own fighter came in damaged and broken…and he was the only one to survive the landing.

“Mark,” Schultz snapped out.

Fujin was watching Wainwright, a little concerned the cocky pilot would think his lieutenant’s bars gave him some kind of right to challenge Schultz’ instructions…and she was prepared to remind him they didn’t. But the pilot did exactly what he was told, without any argument, and she felt the 2.5g slam into her. She started counting down from eight, but by the time she got to four, she could feel the ship’s weapons firing.

The lasers were first, precision weapons designed to score direct hits on incoming missiles. They were notoriously difficult to target, but Schultz had two hits in less than thirty seconds. Then a third almost immediately after that.

Fujin just nodded. She knew the CEL officer was good when she’d maneuvered to get him on her crew, but she had to acknowledge she was even more impressed than she’d expected to be. Even the old Gold Dragons, her long-dead friends and comrades, had never hit missiles with such focused precision.

She couldn’t help but smile when she saw a fourth missile go, and then, almost amazingly, a fifth and sixth in rapid succession. She felt her congratulations coming up, the words moving from her throat of their own accord. But she clamped down on it. There would be time later, and the last thing she wanted to do was break Schultz’ concentration.

Then she felt the ship shake as both gunners began firing the electromagnetic railguns the crews called, simply, shotguns. The shotguns used the most mundane of projectiles, chunks of depleted uranium and other heavy metals. But they fired them at enormous velocities, in excess of three thousand kilometers per second. Even the smallest grain of metal could vaporize a warhead at such speeds.

Fujin watched as another half dozen warheads were obliterated by the shotguns. Her eyes moved to the side of her screen, to the reports coming in from the entire group. None of her people had been as deadly accurate as Schultz, but she could see at once the attack had been a massive success. Her people had knocked out almost two-thirds of the incoming warheads…and they were still in the fight.

She felt a rush of satisfaction. The suicide boat crews were the only ones in the fleet with casualty rates anywhere near the fighter crews, and she felt a kinship with them. She longed to be in the attack Hurley and the rest of the fighters were about to launch, but she had to grudgingly agree her people had done more good where they were, that they’d probably saved hundreds of their fellow spacers.

And those spacers are about to drop heavy plasma torpedoes on these First Imperium bastards…

*    *    *

“Steady…” Aki Kato sat on
Osaka’s
bridge, his eyes fixed on the main display. He’d just watched Admiral Hurley’s fighter squadrons attack, and he’d been stunned, mystified at the almost unimaginable bravery of her crews. Her contingent had been savaged since the day the fleet became trapped, fighting one desperate battle after another. Kato couldn’t understand how a formation could endure such relentless and devastating losses and retain its combat effectiveness. No, more than that…for all the devastating losses, the fighter wings had become even more effective, a shrinking weapon, yet one of enormous power.

The fighters had sliced through the enemy formation, concentrating on four of the Gremlins and blowing each of them to plasma. By the time her people pulled back—after following up their torpedo attack with two strafing runs with their lasers—they left behind another twenty-one of their own. A hundred and five crewmembers. Kato hoped at least some had managed to eject, that they were floating in space in their survival gear, waiting for rescue…but he knew it couldn’t be many. And he realized there would be no pickup for those who did manage to escape, not unless these twenty Gremlins were destroyed, and nothing else came through the warp gate.

“Sir, Captain Duke’s ships are closing. They should be in firing range in ninety seconds.”

“Very well,” Kato nodded back to the tactical officer. The officer’s calculations were spot on, at least for normal operations. But John Duke had his ship loaded up with overpowered torpedoes…and you didn’t take a chance like that just to pop them off at long range and hope they managed to hit. No, you took them right down the enemy’s throat. And that meant another minute and a half at least.

He stared at the display for another thirty seconds, then a minute. Finally, he turned back to the tactical station. “Very well, Commander. Take us forward. All ships advance.”

Kato was
Osaka’s
captain, but he wore a second hat as squadron commander. He had three PRC cruisers,
Osaka
and her two sisters,
Tokugawa
and
Tanaka
…and Admiral Compton had given him three Alliance ships,
Boise
,
Surrey
, and
Newfoundland
. His people had been in supporting positions for most of the fighting since X2, but now they were at the forefront, charged with holding off the enemy while the rest of the fleet escaped.

He remembered those terrible hours in system X2, where he’d been tasked to hold back the First Imperium forces while the rest of the fleet escaped. He’d been sure his mission was a suicide one, that his skeleton crews had been finished. But Admiral Compton had refused to leave them behind…and to Kato’s shock, most of his people made it out.

Now he felt the same way. There was no doubt in his mind that more First Imperium ships were behind that warp gate. He had no idea why they hadn’t come through yet, why they were giving the fleet time to get away…and the rearguard time to destroy their advance force. But it didn’t matter why. All that mattered was that the fleet escaped. And it would.

As long as we finish off these ships, the fleet will get away…even if another hundred of the enemy come through, even if they trap every vessel in this rearguard, it will be too late for them to catch the admiral. At least in this system
.

“All units engage thrust…we’re going in right behind the fast attack ships.” Kato took a deep breath. “All laser batteries prepare to fire on my command…”

He stared at the display, watching as Duke’s ships closed. Kato suppressed a grim smile as he watched the vessels move forward, holding their fire. They were well past normal range and still closing. Kato understood, and he watched intently as the wave of ships moved closer…then toward point blank.

Still they held their fire. Kato watched as one of the icons vanished. Then another. There were three more with heavy damage, but they kept on going, now down below twenty thousand kilometers.

Kato found himself leaning forward in his chair, trying to will Duke’s people to fire. But still they held. Fifteen thousand…ten thousand. Knife fighting range, yet still they held their fire. Eight thousand…seven thousand…

Kato jumped in his chair as he saw the first torpedoes fire. The range was so close he could barely distinguish the launch from the impact. Eleven ships fired, almost as one…and when those massively overpowered torpedoes slammed into their hulls, eleven of the First Imperium Gremlins rolled over hard, wracked by massive explosions. Seven died almost immediately, consumed by the loss of containment in their own antimatter stores. Four more were split open like eggs, their ruptured hulls floating dead in space.

There were cheers all around
Osaka’s
bridge, joy at the flawlessly executed attack they had just seen. But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet. There were still five enemy ships intact and, almost as if in declaration of that fact,
Osaka
shook hard as enemy x-ray lasers slammed into her.

“Damage control procedures,” Kato said, almost robotically. His focus now was on attack, not survival…destruction, not defense. “All laser batteries…ready…”

His commands were relayed immediately to the other five vessels under his command. They were in range already, but Kato was following Duke’s lead. He was going right down the enemy’s throats.

“Ready…” he said again, his eyes remaining fixed on the display as
Osaka
took another hid amidships. He felt the urge to give the command, to fire now before his ships took any more damage. But something held him back, made him wait. Perhaps it was the attack they’d just watched, the relentless bravery of John Duke and his people. Or it was his own knowledge of the enemy. He knew from his own experiences how tough the enemy hulls were…and how much stronger his lasers were at ‘whites of eyes’ range.

“Ready…” The numbers on the display dropped down, below ten thousand now. His eyes darted to the side, checking the damage readouts for his ships.
Surrey
had been hit hard…her thrust was down, and she was bleeding atmosphere. But still he held back, waiting…waiting.

“Fire!”

Osaka’s
lights dimmed as all her power poured into the laser turrets. The great beams, invisible except where they passed through dust clouds or fields of debris, lanced out at the enemy ships. The dark matter infused hulls of the enemy were strong against laser fire, but Kato’s ships were too close, their shots too concentrated. One by one the deadly blasts ripped into the enemy ships, tearing apart internal systems and shattering structural supports.

The enemy returned the fire, their own weapons even deadlier at such short range. Kato felt
Osaka
shake again, even harder this time. There were showers of sparks on the bridge as conduits blew and consoles overloaded. And a large beam fell to the deck, almost killing two crewmen when it did.

“Maintain fire. Pour all available power into the turrets…cut off all safety protocols. Full overloads. All systems are subordinate to weapons control…even life support.”

Kato was putting everything his reactors could produce through his lasers, even at the risk of burning out the systems. He clung grimly to the armrests of his chair, staring out across the chaos that had become
Osaka’s
bridge. His ship was hurt, badly. He knew that. But he also knew she would do what she had to…all of his vessels would.

“We just lost
Surrey
, Captain.” The stress was clear in the tactical officer’s voice. Kato knew his people were near their limits. But there was no time for a break, no time to repair damaged systems or rest overloaded machinery. This was a fight to the death, against the deadliest enemy man had ever faced. And he would do whatever had to be done. And so would his people.