Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (173 page)

Major Dave Bowman squinted at the viewport overlay, trying to select a single swarmer for his flight to target amongst the multitude clogging the area. The combat needed to spread out and quickly, else they were going to be crashing into each other as much as into the enemy.

Major Bowman:  Flight, vector is S 22°, 37° z W. Let’s try to peel a few out of the crowd—

Without warning his fighter jerked downward into a vertical dive. The restraints held him tight against the seat as his hands instinctively fought to ease the angle—but he no longer controlled the ship.

They had warned him this might happen when they installed the additional hardware for the new arcalaser. Still, he was not amused.

His brain and his internal organs lurched when the ship strafed 40° to starboard and opened fire on a swarmer. He vaguely noticed the other members of his flight had also opened fire from positions in a 60° arc and 15° plane. Freed of the need to fire from a direct vantage to the oculus, they were now swarming the swarmer. Funny.

The core of the alien vessel crumbled with astounding speed. Then his ship was spinning around, rocketing upward and firing on another. This one was charging them, and his flight had closed in so much he could sense them in his peripheral vision.

This swarmer too broke apart in the time he succeeded in inhaling, but its forward momentum cast the shards hurtling toward them. In a flash his and the other fighters were flung outward, thruster boosts accelerating them away from the dangerous debris. Acid rose into his throat when the motion temporarily became too extreme for the inertial dampeners to compensate.

The next instant he was drifting peacefully in the direction he had been headed. He hesitantly reached out and sought to increase his speed. The vessel responded per normal. It was once again his.

He blinked and tried to reorient himself. The entire event had lasted less than ten seconds.

From a sim chair in a small, dark room on the engineering deck of the Federation dreadnought
SFS Leonidas
, Morgan enjoyed a bird’s-eye view of the battlefield—the movements of a veritable ocean of ships, en masse an exquisite dance and one she knew well.

Quadrant Five, ten swarmers approaching
SFS Salerno
. Assuming control of SFF H4, H7, H11, H12.

She dove into four of the nine-hundred-sixty-eight fighters that had been wired for access by Stanley and equipped with arcalasers…and smiled. She now saw through each of the four cockpits and all of them at once. It was Stanley’s vision, yet it felt like hers.

Target X4117 — H4 shift vertical 17° z — H7 descend 90° pivot — H11 + W 2.1° — H12 shadow H11 + W 3.2°. Fire.

The alien craft exploded in 1.4701 seconds.

Target X4065 — all shift S 12° E. Fire.

1.5622 seconds.

She diverted the four fighters at varying gentler angles and released them.

Human pilots were physically incapable of executing the maneuvers these ships had executed. Not even she could manipulate the controls so rapidly and with so precise a touch. And while it hadn’t been much of a factor this time, the G-forces generated often degraded the pilots’ capabilities to an unacceptable degree.

Together with Stanley she not only could do it, she could do it with four ships at once. The combined, concentrated firepower directed at a single point on a swarmer’s oculus less than half a meter wide ripped apart the vessel in a maximum of two seconds, long before the fighters’ own shields were depleted, if their shields were stressed at all.

Four fighters for one swarmer sounded like losing numbers in the long game. But she intended to move fast.

She zoomed back out to the macro view to allow Stanley to identify another set of potential targets, then in a flash she was diving again.

Assuming control of SFF S8, S2, S12, S17.

“Metigen cluster in upper Quadrant Four is breaking through the forward line. We should plug the hole ASAP.”

Alex studied the map. “SF 56
^th
Regiment has been kicking ass in Quadrant Three and they’re close.”

She tuned out Rychen’s execution of the order to watch the map. Out the viewport, the explosions and debris made it impossible to see with any clarity, but the map filtered out the thermal readings from overheated engine cores and scorched metal to present a chess board whose pieces were legion.

Valkyrie:  Twenty-eight swarmers giving chase to SF#578 and #609 in Quadrant Nine.

Alex:  Morgan, target swarmers moving Quadrant Nine bearing N 42° E.

“Requesting fighter support for SF 33
^rd
Regiment in Quadrant Seven.”

She made a face at Gianno’s request.
Morgan?

Morgan:  I’ll handle both. No need to make the Marshal fret.

Based on her limited exposure to Field Marshal Gianno, Alex found the idea of the woman ‘fretting’ an improbable one and decided Morgan was being sarcastic per usual.

She let Rychen know the request was being met. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of her mother in the EASC holo manipulating sub-screens and motioning to several people who moved around her. It—

Morgan:  Sh-fuh-mother of Mary!

Mia:  Problem?

Morgan:  Swarmer took out one of my fighters from behind while I was firing. Felt like my brain burst inside my skull.

Alex:  Disengage and take a breath.

Morgan:  I’m fine, I’m fine. Bastard’s going to pay.

Valkyrie:  Two SDs and 60 swarmers have broken off from the main force in Quadrant Six, projected target is the carrier
EAS Pearl Harbor
.

“Admiral, we need to send two cruisers—recommend the
Cantigny
and
Marengo
—and at least four frigates to protect the
Pearl Harbor
.”

The Metigens aren’t stupid. They know a carrier is a low-value target when they aren’t already winning. They’re trying to draw ships away for some reason.

Who was that?
Valkyrie?

Valkyrie:  I concur. It is a sound strategic analysis.

Alex:  But you didn’t say it?

Valkyrie:  I don’t believe so.

Alex:  Devon?

Devon:  Little busy here trying to tell the Senecan defense arrays where to shoot. Cranky, paranoid ware.

Alex frowned but brushed the odd feeling aside. No time for it. “Scratch that. Tell the
Pearl Harbor
to retreat to Staging Point #3. It can return in a few minutes at a different location.”

46

KRYSK

S
ENECAN
F
EDERATION
C
OLONY

C
ALEB EYED THE YOUNG
M
ARINE
—based on the moves she had executed she was clearly special forces—over the breech of his Daemon. “Same to you.”

“You’re here to take out O’Connell, right?”

“That is the plan.” His gaze flickered beyond her to see Noah struggling to his feet, hand at his throat. “You okay, man?”

“Ugh….” In lieu of speaking he managed a haphazard wave.

The woman didn’t turn around, but her words were plainly directed at Noah. “Back away from me and I won’t need to do that again.” He complied, stumbling backward to sag against the wall a safe distance away.

She jerked a tight nod, and as one they lowered their weapons. “Who sent you?”

“Do you
care
who sent me? Your general needs to be stopped before he takes one more single, solitary life.”

The ship lurched beneath their feet, sending them all thudding into the wall. He snorted a laugh. “Guess I did do some damage.”

“You mean your ship tearing through half the decks like an out-of-control levtram? Probably.” She exhaled harshly. “All right. This lift leads to the bridge. I was supposed to be coming to kill you, but instead I’m going to help you. O’Connell has completely lost whatever shred of sanity he may have previously retained. He’s up there raging and screaming and threatening to execute anyone who looks at him wrong. He already
has
executed two officers today.

“Only a couple of other people are left on the bridge—almost everyone’s gone to help with rescue efforts or to hunt you. I’ll distract him. Give me fifteen seconds, then come up. Start shooting, and I’ll take care of his shield.”

Caleb nodded in agreement, but Noah scowled. “Why are you helping us?”

“Because this cocksucker needs to die. I had plans to make it happen in any event, but with you here I might actually be alive after it’s done.” The floor bucked again. “We need to hurry. I’m fairly certain we’re in the process of crashing.”

Caleb gestured to the lift, and in a blink she had hopped on it and was gone. He studied Noah to determine whether he was recovered sufficiently for the final push…and decided the answer was ‘enough.’ “Like the Marine said, start firing and don’t stop until O’Connell is on the floor—then shoot down.”

“What about the other soldiers up there?”

“Hope our new friend keeps them under control. If not, we’ll worry about them once the general’s out of commission.”

Noah blew out a breath through clenched teeth. “Got it.”

The seconds ticked down to zero. He activated the lift and crouched low on its base; he sensed Noah mimic his stance behind him. As soon as they began clearing the floor of the bridge, he raised the Daemon and prepared to open fire.

O’Connell’s large frame was immediately identifiable in the center of the bridge. The man flailed in agitation atop a central platform, arms thrashing around as the woman they followed up stood at parade rest beside him. Her eyes darted to them and her chin lowered a centimeter.

Caleb began firing.

The man pivoted toward them. The steady laser stream from Caleb’s Daemon lit up the man’s shield in fiery sparks as the man reached for the gun at his hip.

In a blur of movement the woman moved behind O’Connell. Her hands slipped into the waist of his uniform pants, yanked the shield generator out of its clip and tossed it clattering across the bridge.

With a roar O’Connell spun toward her. His outstretched arm whipped around to hammer his gun into the side of her head, and the force generated by his burly frame sent her flying through the air. She landed hard on a shoulder ten meters away and skidded into the front panel of a workstation.

Caleb leapt the final half-meter up to the bridge floor and continued to fire as he stood and closed the distance.

His next shot caught O’Connell in the right shoulder as the man reoriented himself in their direction. The next ripped clean through the abdomen. A shot from Noah came an instant later to slice open the left hip.

The man reeled, his face reddening to the color of crushed maraschino cherries. He waved the gun wildly at them while the other hand went to clutch his abdomen. He was yelling something, but Caleb couldn’t make it out for all the other yelling.

Caleb continued to advance forward as O’Connell’s shot missed him altogether. Three meters away. Time for the head shot.

He leveled the Daemon at the sweating skin between O’Connell’s disbelieving eyes and pressed the trigger.

Mission fucking accomplished.

There was no time to appreciate the heavy body collapsing to the floor, though, due to the new gunfire bouncing off Caleb’s shield from multiple directions. It was a top-of-the-line military shield, but it still had a limit. He spun and dove for cover behind the closest workstation.

“Stand down!” The woman’s voice bellowed with authority across the expansive bridge. “General O’Connell was conducting an illegal operation in contravention of Alliance orders and he has been relieved of command. Now this ship is going down, so I suggest you get yourselves to escape pods—on the double, people!”

Encouraged by the sound of feet pounding past them and the corresponding lack of gunfire, Caleb cautiously emerged from his meager cover. Their unexpected ally was standing in the middle of the bridge motioning the last of its occupants toward the exit using one arm while the other hung limply at her side.