Blackbeard superbox, p.79
Blackbeard Superbox, page 79
This had no effect on the rebel forces. It caused no defections, no additional sabotage. Any hidden enemies had already shown their colors.
Dreadnought pulled up short as she and Fort Gamma came in range of each other. Malthorne sheered off his remaining torpedo boat to block Vigilant, should she come in for an attack. Rutherford had concealed her weakness well. Didn’t do much good, though, as she was unable to fight at this range.
The battleship stood several hundred thousand miles off and heaved a massive missile barrage at the fort from a pair of crotalus batteries. There was too much firepower to fend off with countermeasures, and explosions were soon rocking the fortress. Dexi Gibbs was back in charge, but this time fully armed. In this initial stage, however, she sat and absorbed the punishment. Only when Malthorne tried to sneak through a missile armed with an atomic weapon did defense systems scramble to put it down. They knocked it away before it could do any harm.
That atomic assault had put a lie to Malthorne’s promise of mercy. Breaking through, it would have killed rebels and loyalists alike.
Under cover of Dreadnought’s fire, two torpedo boats pulled off from Lindsell’s cruiser fleet, and supported by a missile frigate, made a diving run at Gamma. This forced the commander’s hand. If one of those torpedo boats had another atomic warhead, the result could be disastrous. She unloaded her missile batteries, and then the fort’s cannons, trying to drive off the enemy craft. One of the torpedo boats took damage, and soon both were fleeing back to Dreadnought, their mission failed.
Gibbs turned Fort Gamma’s weapons on Dreadnought. The battleship swatted away missiles and torpedoes like so many pesky mosquitoes. It looked like she was preparing another run with torpedo boats. Rutherford brought up a frigate and a destroyer and swung them wide to guard against this possibility. Vigilant still lingered to the rear.
Meanwhile, Fort Epsilon came into view, but it couldn’t join the battle against Dreadnought during the brief minutes when it was in range. Instead, it had its hands full with Fort Alpha—still controlled by loyalists. After weeks of wary truce, the two orbital platforms were now fighting each other. Rutherford sent a destroyer to aid Fort Epsilon, but otherwise kept his forces at the ready.
Drake hailed Caites and Potterman. They split the viewscreen, the young, serious-faced woman Rutherford had elevated next to the craggy-faced war veteran. They were each skilled in their own way, but only a few months ago, Caites had commanded a small torpedo boat, and Potterman had spent his career at the helm of a destroyer. Neither had taken a cruiser into open battle.
“The only way we win is if we get to Dreadnought,” Drake said. “Us, Rutherford, and Vargus all at once. Pin her against the forts and finish her. Like a pack of lions bringing down an elephant.”
Caites stared back coolly. “If only the elephant wasn’t guarded by her own lions.”
“You mean Lindsell?” Potterman said from the other side of the screen. “More like a rhino, I’d say. Tough hide, sharp horn, ready to charge at a moment’s notice. Maybe we can lure him away.”
“Lindsell is aggressive enough,” Drake agreed. “Question is, does Malthorne have him properly caged, or not? The admiral has to feel invincible with Lindsell guarding his flank—why would he let the cruiser fleet out of its pen?”
“We could try a bluff,” Caites said. “I’ll come in off Blackbeard’s starboard. Take a little damage, then feign serious injury. I’ll retreat, as if forced to withdraw. Lindsell can’t resist a wounded enemy—I’ll bet he comes after me. Once I’ve got him in the open, Richmond is more than a match for Churchill.”
Not really. Churchill was the third Punisher-class cruiser, behind Blackbeard (formerly HMS Ajax) and Vigilant. Caites’s own Richmond was an older Aggressor-class cruiser. Slower, less maneuverable, and with weaker armaments. Caites meant captain to captain, of course, but even here, Drake had his doubts that she could outfight her opponent. So would Lindsell, which made it likely that he’d take the bait, suspected trap or no.
“When he takes the bait,” Potterman said, “the rest of us rush through. With Churchill out of the way, we’ll knock through the rest of those ships and get at Dreadnought.”
It was an entire battle dismissed with the wave of a hand. Drake had no doubt they could get through, but even with Lindsell out of the way, the corvettes, destroyers, frigates, and torpedo boats would put up a hell of a fight.
Still, it was the best plan he had. “We need to keep the rest of Lindsell’s forces between us and Dreadnought until the last minute. The battleship has plenty of firepower to hit us from port even while she’s fighting on her starboard side. We can’t face those guns until the rest of the fleet is defeated. Our only hope is to use her own ships as a shield.”
“Then you want me to try to lure Lindsell away?” Caites asked.
“Yes. Let’s do it.”
They ended the call. He brought up Isabel Vargus on Outlaw and explained the plan. “How hard can you hit Dreadnought on the forecastle?”
“Not hard enough. There’s more tyrillium on that one shield than in my whole fleet. To destroy Dreadnought from the front . . . it’s impossible.”
“I don’t need you to destroy her. I only need you blasting at Malthorne’s bridge. I want him rattled. I need you to draw fire.”
“Drawing fire shouldn’t be a problem,” she said dryly. “I’m sure he’s got plenty and to spare.”
“I know what I’m asking. It will be dangerous. I’ll hold you back until we’re past Lindsell. But once I’m through, I’ve got to go after Dreadnought with everything I’ve got. That means you, too.”
“What about Rutherford?” Vargus asked. “If he comes in from starboard—”
“No,” he said. “Rutherford can’t lead the charge. Not with one engine. Vigilant ventures out from the forts, and she’s dead.”
“His support craft, then.”
“You think those frigates and destroyers can stand a broadside from Dreadnought’s guns?” Drake asked.
“Who can? I sure as hell can’t.”
“Then it’s a good thing you won’t be facing the main cannons. Are you ready? We’re ten minutes out.”
Vargus nodded. Her mechanical eye narrowed, then dilated again. “If you’re going to get us killed, let’s try not to do it at Malthorne’s hands. Agreed?”
“That would be an especially humiliating end.” Drake allowed himself a smile. “Agreed. If it comes to it, Lindsell does the killing.”
Vargus grinned. “I like you, James Drake.” She gave a mock salute. “Off to execute my orders. Good luck.”
Drake closed the channel, grateful for her support, but also thinking how much better their chances would be with her sister Catarina at the helm of Orient Tiger and her own fleet. But no commander ever went into battle with the forces he wished he had on hand.
Meanwhile, Blackbeard formed the spearhead, with Richmond a few thousand miles off starboard, Calypso off port, and a destroyer above and below. His frigates lingered behind Richmond, ready to support her exit once she feigned injury. Ahead loomed Lindsell’s fleet, a shield to Dreadnought’s sword.
“Take us in, Ensign,” Drake said.
Capp nodded. She winked at Oglethorpe, then again at Smythe. “Ready, boys? Here we go.”
The subpilot’s eyes now took on a glazed look as her nav chip interfaced with the nav computer. Her fingers moved over the console. The ship gave a subtle move beneath them. It represented a violent shift in movement, Drake knew, so much so that without artificial gravity, they’d be splattered against the far wall.
Blackbeard hurtled straight at HMS Churchill. Drake’s other two cruisers followed. The destroyers swung wide to provide fire support. Two enemy corvettes broke from the pack and pounced. They opened fire, even as the rest of Lindsell’s fleet let loose.
Drake’s forces fired their first volley in response. Soon, the region of space a half million miles out from Hot Barsa was filled with snaking missiles, lumbering torpedoes, and chunks of flying metal the size of small lorries. Blackbeard struck a lucky blow on one of the streaking corvettes and forced it to retire.
At the same time, Caites took a hit to her helm. Richmond shrugged, maneuvered and launched countermeasures to fight off the rest of the attack. The other corvette came after her, followed by two torpedo boats and supported by Lindsell’s frigates. Caites took her cruiser and veered hard from the battle. She sent a panicked distress signal over the general com. It was a convincing display, and if Drake hadn’t known better, he’d have thought her seriously wounded.
Now Caites was exposed. The corvette could pursue her, harassing, while Lindsell followed in his powerful cruiser. Drake’s forces wouldn’t be able to protect Richmond before the enemy caught her. It was the plan, though. A dangerous one, but what they needed.
But Lindsell didn’t bite. Instead, he consolidated his forces, targeted Blackbeard, and thundered forward. Drake had been outmaneuvered. The two sides were about to collide, and he had sent one of his cruisers off the battlefield.
Chapter Twenty-five
Tolvern had her small force well prepared by the time the enemy returned, with towers manned and armed, the road hastily mined, and snipers taking position in the surrounding forest. She even had an anti-tank gun, which she wielded herself. She hid in the ditch outside the base as the rumble of lorries reached her ears, and she blasted the first vehicle straight to hell. Two shots from the anti-tank gun. The second hit the fuel tank. Flames shot skyward as she hoisted the gun and raced back within the base’s protective guns.
And then the enemy arrived in bulk. They seized the road and targeted the guard tower. Tolvern had hastily welded on metal plating, but the shields also restricted her ability to return fire. Enemy forces launched mortars and grenades into the compound. Others came through the forest to take the road on the opposite side, driving out Tolvern’s snipers and replacing them with their own.
She held them off the rest of the day, but as soon as it was dark, the enemy crept up and tried to cut through the razor wire. An armored personnel carrier attacked the gates directly before Tolvern chased it off with the anti-tank gun. Somehow, they survived the night.
Three of Pez Rykan’s rebels slipped past the enemy defenses on the second day and slightly bolstered Tolvern’s force. They told her of fighting in the jungle. Pez Rykan was struggling to get her reinforcements, but he had few guns and was short on ammo. It was a terrible irony. Tolvern had all the guns and ammo she needed, but lacked the fighters to shoot them.
The third day, the first of the Hroom prisoners, forced to swallow caplets at gunpoint, began to come around. The antidote worked most quickly on the more recently addicted. Brockett tested them with sugar first, then turned them over to Tolvern to arm. She was up to twenty-five defenders by nightfall.
It wasn’t enough. The constant fire had left her exhausted and rattled. And the heat. The neverending, confounded heat. The Hroom were affected, too. Three of her fighters threw down their weapons and fled the base, running for the jungle, only to be cut down by enemy snipers. At first, Tolvern had cursed the deserters as cowards. Then, she began to envy them. By the fourth day, she was contemplating surrender.
That night, while she was climbing the staircase to take her turn in the guard tower, she glanced up to see the sky glowing. Light flashed high in the atmosphere. Moments later, more flashes, until the entire sky was lit up as if with celestial fireworks. She knew what it meant. Captain Drake had his own fight up there.
She’d tried to raise Fort Gamma or Vigilant for the past few days, but the enemy had succeeded in jamming her communication. With the fighting up above, it wasn’t like they could send her armed help, but they might be able to drop a bomb from orbit, or even parachute in arms for Pez Rykan. Maybe. She couldn’t reach her Hroom ally at the moment, either.
Carvalho rose wearily when she entered the guard room, hands on his back and groaning as he straightened himself. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“It’s my turn,” she said.
“There are others who can handle this gun. And the enemy is holding still at the moment.”
She cupped a hand to her ear and dragged out a smile. “Sounds like gunfire to me.”
“Not on this side of the base. You need company?”
“Nah, get yourself some sleep.”
“Oh, I mean to,” he said. “Going to slump in the corner and close my eyes. Not as comfortable as a cot in the barracks, but right now it doesn’t matter much where I sleep. One of those bone diggers could burrow into my skull, and it wouldn’t keep me awake.”
“Then what good will you do here?” she asked. “Go down to the barracks. Go on.”
“Nah.” He turned on the screen of his computer and wiped away the condensation. He used the screen light to get a closer look at her. “You don’t look so well yourself.”
“You wouldn’t expect me to, would you?”
“We are both shellshocked. Here, I will stay with you and keep you company.” He turned off the computer and settled in the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest and disappearing into the shadows.
Tolvern shrugged, although she wasn’t unhappy with the company. She settled in at the gun. During lulls in the fighting, a brave Hroom mechanic had swung around and welded on more blast shielding, and the gun now had a protected slit through which to fire.
The night scope was on. The road outside the base was quiet. The enemy had made a movable barricade of trees, flanked by two burned-out vehicles. They could and often did come over the barrier and attack directly. But for now, there was no sign of movement.
“Tolvern?”
“Thought you were going to sleep.”
“Should we give up?” he asked.
“How do you mean?”
“Take what arms we can and fight our way to the forest. We might escape.”
“We wouldn’t.”
“Surrender, then.”
“Wouldn’t they kill us all anyway?” she pointed out.
“Only if we lose.”
“What do you mean, if we lose? That’s what surrender means.”
“If Drake loses, I mean,” Carvalho said. “If he wins, then the planet is ours. He can force the enemy to give up prisoners. But if he does not win, then we are trapped down here anyway.”
“You’re missing the larger strategic picture.” Tolvern swung the gun to check for movement along the ditches. She thought she’d spotted something, but now all seemed still.
“How would I miss it? We are trapped by a superior force. It is only a matter of time.”
“That’s what you’re missing, Carvalho. Time is on our side, not the enemy’s. They have to get in here. We have their food and ammo. They have no resupply. And every day we hold them here, the rebellion spreads on the plantation. Every day, new eaters are broken of their addiction. Tens of thousands of doses will go out, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”
“And that means what?” he asked.
“It means if we hold out, a hundred thousand square miles will be lost to the enemy for good. They’ll be forced to flee for the highlands. We’ll join Pez Rykan, feed him guns and ammo, and move on to other plantations. One after another, they’ll all fall.”
In a few short weeks, she’d forced the security forces to fight and had drawn Malthorne and Dreadnought to protect the planet’s vast wealth. Without the sugar of Hot Barsa, how would Malthorne maintain his hold on the throne? He had nobles to buy off, a fleet to maintain, and new wars to finance. Even with the lands gained by stealing the crown, Malthorne needed this planet.
She caught movement through the scope. This time, Tolvern was sure. A rustle in the grass in the ditch on the right side of the road, about a hundred yards from the gates.
“We’ve got an infiltrator,” she said. “I’m going to take him out.”
But not until the enemy moved. Couldn’t let them know they’d been spotted while they were protected at the bottom of the ditch. She waited for the grass to move again. Carvalho came by her side. He grabbed the end of a belt of ammo to feed it in should she shoot.
There! A movement in the grass another twenty yards closer to her position. She squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked on with an angry snarl as she let the infiltrator have it. In the darkness, the tracer bullets looked like a glowing white knife, cutting back and forth along the ditch.
A light flashed. Something streaked toward her. It slammed into the guard tower, and she threw herself down. The room rocked with a tremendous boom. A hand-fired missile or grenade. She was rattled but unhurt when she picked herself up again. Carvalho cursed and shook his head.
Tolvern grabbed the gun again. And then, the night lit up. Gunfire flashed from both sides of the road, dozens of guns targeting her position. More gunfire came from behind the burned-out lorry. Moving figures, dozens of them.
This wasn’t an infiltrator. This was a major assault to overrun the base.
#
“I’m coming out,” Rutherford said.
“Hold your position,” Drake responded.
“Is that an order?” The other captain’s tone was insolent.
Blackbeard rocked from a blow to stern. Lindsell was hammering her hard with his cruiser and a corvette, and Potterman’s cruiser was caught in the crossfire of two destroyers while torpedo boats charged him from all sides, preventing him from coming to Drake’s assistance. Catherine Caites was already swinging around with Richmond, her bluff having failed, but hadn’t yet returned to the battlefield.
“Manx, is the secondary battery ready yet?” Drake asked.
“Barker says three minutes.”
Drake glanced at the console to see the enemy corvette approaching at high speed. “I need it now.”
He turned back to Rutherford, who didn’t appear on the main screen, but on the captain’s console. “Yes, that’s an order, dammit. You’ve got to keep Dreadnought off those forts.”
