Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (31 page)

Renown
, defended by only an AIPS screen,
had fared far worse.  During the time it took for her gunners to batter down
Ajax’s
defenses, their aft quad GP turret and side-mounted dual lasers were annihilated
by incoming fire. 
Renown’s
beam was torn open brutally by multiple
strikes of Maclex lasers and the flames jutting from the brig swirled like
infernal tornados as the brig hemorrhaged nearly half of her atmosphere.

The limited debris
trail left by
Ajax
compared to the flaming Saden vessel spilling wreckage
from her gut bore strong testament to why brigs rarely matched against ships of
the line.

*  *  *

As a
full forty-six percent of
Renown
decompressed, the rearguard sections of
the two fleets hurled toward each other at one-quarter the speed of light
.
 
Denise Gables sat calmly inside the tight cockpit of her modified Dunnings
racing shuttle and observed her fighter formations.  “Tighten it up, Sparrows,”
she ordered over the fighter wing comm channel.

“Any
tighter,” Ensign May quipped, “and Sparrow Seven will have to marry me.”

The
flight of fifteen fighters was less than a light-second from Truesworth’s
corvette.  After their scramble from
Nest’s
flight deck, they had
immediately set off to join the lead ship to augment the corvette’s pitiful
defenses against the expected missile attack.

“Vampires,”
Ensign Olson announced in a composed voice.  “Just three,” he added with
relief.

“Roger,
Sparrow Ten,” Gables acknowledged, “that’s all she can salvo.  Increase speed to
point one-seven-C.  Let’s clear the road for Dash.”

Gables
felt the slight G-increase as she pushed her shuttle forward of
Dash
. 
Not
too far ahead,
she reminded herself and settled into fitful silence as she grappled
with the shuttle’s targeting computer.  The monitor had been crudely fixed to her
control panel, replacing the craft’s diagnostics suite.  As the fighter development
program had fallen further and further behind, it became evident that the
experimental group’s venture into combat could easily be a one-way trip.  The
final months had been an exercise in compromise and futility.  The initiative
had been conceived with the notion of launching, fighting and recovering the flight
using conventional carrier operations, a fact that now seemed as farcical as it
was ambitious.  When problems arose with launching fifteen separate shuttles
within a reasonable timeframe, the dream of recovering the shuttles like
fighters was completely abandoned.  Persistent and complex issues in engineering
ranging from power consumption to arming the fighters had combined to frustrate
the program at every step.  The resultant concessions ensured the program would
ultimately be considered a failure.

These
sensors can barely lock onto a stationary target, let alone something moving four-tenths
the speed of light.
 
She coaxed her target cursor over her assigned missile and heard the
high-pitched warble of success briefly before the computer lost its lock. 
Grinding her teeth, she wobbled the cursor back over the inverted “v” on her
screen. 
Come on, you piece of crap; it’s right there.

Thankfully,
Gables knew she had back-up.  Each of the three incoming missiles had other
shuttles attempting to shoot it down and even if some leaked through, those
surviving missiles would have to squeeze through the corvette’s own missile
defenses.

“Nothing
so far,” Gables’ wingman spat.

“Stick
with it,” she urged.  Her cursor danced over her target again without effect. 
Gables shook her head in disgust.  “Sparrows, if you haven’t achieved a lock by
now, recycle power.”

The reboot
routine took twenty-two seconds.  In that time, the first wave of Saden
missiles entered the five light-second shell of the fighters.  A meager three
fighters fired their single GP laser.  A lonely flash on Gables’ Tactical
Awareness Display informed her of a successful intercept. 
Better than
nothing,
she thought as she directed her efforts toward the next, rapidly
approaching missile wave.  Six light-seconds behind the fighter group,
Dash
flailed desperately at the dual missiles streaking toward her.

Gables
achieved a hard lock against a second-wave vampire.  Her short burst from the forward-mounted
Lyle laser traveled 3
ls
before splashing over the first third of the
Saden missile, obliterating it.  To her surprise, the remaining two missiles in
the wave also fell to combined fighter fire.  During the lull before the third
wave, she preemptively cycled her targeting computer, hoping the system would
be ready before the next missiles were past her.

The
computer was not, and two missiles from the third wave shot past the tiny
defenders on their way to the rearguard’s little corvette.  Gables cursed at her
fighter wing’s inability to help her friends on
Dash
.  She anxiously scanned
her TAD but was unable to decipher any meaningful information from the blue
square representing Truesworth’s ship. 
Surely, Jack can defeat a paltry,
two missiles coming at him
.  She reflected briefly on
Anelace’s
desperate defense against the same number of missiles and shook her head sadly. 
Corvettes just aren’t cut out for combat,
she decided.

“One
more wave,” May encouraged from Sparrow-6.  “Let’s do this, guys.”

Gables
glided her cursor lightly over the next volley. 
Nothing
, she thought as
her stomach twisted into knots.  Frustration overwhelmed her and she punched
the targeting display. 
This whole weapon system is absolute garbage!  If the
Republic could design a targeting system that fits into a fighter, why can’t
these corporations do it too?
 She swept the cursor back over the missile
symbol again without success.  Staring helplessly at the inverted “v,” she
considered the situation. 
I’d ram the damned thing if I thought my nav
computer could manage it
.

The
wave flashed by them faster than she could perceive.  Only the twinkle on her center
console suggested someone had achieved a successful interception.  One second
later, May’s triumphant whoop over the communications frequency offered
evidence as to who had attained the hit.

Overall,
the improvised fighters destroyed half of the twelve missiles inbound for
Dash
. 
Although the interception ratio seemed disappointing to Gables, the wing’s
efforts had given the corvette a fighting chance against
Courageux’s
missile barrage.

“Rotate
one-eighty and decrease speed back to point one-two-C,” Gables ordered while
stomping on her lateral thrusters with an alloy heel.  The maneuver, which
would take far too long for a starship to complete, was finished in less than five
seconds by the more nimble shuttle.  Gables firewalled the drive throttle and was
pushed back into her seat.  After four seconds of thrust, she reoriented her
shuttle back toward the enemy.

Had
Dash’s
crew not been busy defending themselves, they may have marveled at the
exhibition of precision displayed by the shuttlecraft now residing just 1
ls
from their ship’s bow.  Gables confirmed her distance to
Dash
and monitored
the rapidly closing range with
Courageux
.  The Saden line ship, a behemoth
compared to the shuttle she piloted, was still an invisible target.  The only
clue to the fourth-rate’s position, some three million kilometers away, was the
holographic symbol painted over the position on her heads-up display.

“This
is it, Sparrows,” Gables said, heart pounding.  The distance between her fourteen-tonne
shuttle and the 6,580-tonne line ship dropped precipitously.  “We only get one chance
so let’s make it count.  See you on the other side.” 
Either literally or
figuratively
, she thought.  She took a final, cleansing breath and ordered,
“Sparrows are free to maneuver.”

Fifteen
fighters oriented in fifteen different directions and scattered like a startled
flock.  What had been an orderly and constricted formation disintegrated into a
cloud of gnats flying helter-skelter in a loose ball.

Inside
her cockpit, Gables tore at her flight stick while simultaneously stomping on
thruster controls in random fashion.  Her Dunnings racing shuttle had,
mercifully, not been outfitted with an over-G indicator.  Instead, only the
whine of her inertial compensator and her own, violent grunts serenaded the
desperate actions of the frantic pilot.  Gables’ evasive jinks were made more
complicated by her conflicting goals to evade laser fire from the Saden monster
but also maintain a course toward it.  She unloaded the G’s from her craft and
forced open her eyes to verify that her Dunnings was still on a vague path
toward
Courageux
.  Satisfied, she threw her shuttle into an incredible thirteen-G
turn while shoving its throttle forward.  The craft twisted into an impossible
trajectory as her helmet rattled against the side of her seat.  Gables noted
that, unlike her old Brevic F-3 “Pup” fighter, there was no female voice
warning her of an enemy locking onto her craft. 
It’s kind of nice,
she
mused between strenuous grunts,
not having “Bitchin’ Betty” screaming at me.
 
Instead of automated warnings forecasting the danger, Gables merely assumed
that each spasmodic breath she took would be her last.

Several
seconds after her last turn, she violently pitched her craft into the z-axis
and fired its main drive.  After two heartbeats, she, again, unloaded the G’s from
her shuttle and opened her eyes.  Blood rushed back into her head, granting her
vision.  When she first began maneuvering, Gables estimated that she would be
inside
Courageux’s
weapons range for roughly thirty-five seconds.  Her
chronometer was now at plus thirty-nine and counting.  Not trusting her good
fortune, she threw the Dunnings into an additional, teeth-rattling turn to
starboard while searching her TAD.  Unbelievably, her shuttle appeared to have
made it to “the other side.”

Gables
hooted in delight with the realization that she had slipped past
Courageux’s
laser fire to reach the unprotected beam of the line ship.  She quickly
oriented her shuttlecraft’s nose to match course and rapidly calculated how
much burn from her main drive she would need to maintain her position relative
to the mammoth line ship. 
Courageux
had completed her pass against
Dash
and was opening the distance between itself and the remainder of Seshafi’s
rearguard.

Accelerating
hard to match
Courageux’s
speed, Gables searched the space around her
for additional survivors.  She counted only three other shuttles.  Her stomach
dropped at the disheartening total.  She had dreamed that, somehow, the outcome
would have been different this time.  Additional scrutiny of the three beacons
identified them as Sparrows Four, Eight and Nine.  The horrific losses tore at
her soul. 
Vivian May, Patrick Olson.  So many… just gone.
  She narrowed
wet eyes at
Courageux’s
symbol.  The line ship was beginning to roll in
a bid to bring her battle face to bear against the four shuttles alongside
her. 
Not a chance in hell,
Gables thought mercilessly while bringing
her boots down on the Dunnings thruster pedals.

“Sparrow
flight, form up on me,” she ordered while lining up her single laser at the
leviathan sailing a scant 2
ls
from her.  “It’s our turn now.”

“This
is an outrage!” Wallace bellowed so loudly that every bridge officer cringed. 
“There!” he shouted while violently pointing at the quartet of shuttles pouring
laser fire into
Courageux’s
vulnerable flank.  “What gives them the
right
?”
he sputtered.  “Those insignificant
shuttlecraft
,” he spit the words out
as if a curse, “dare to fire upon a line ship?”

“They’re
ravaging her, Viscount,” Ladd pointed out meekly at his side.

“I
know that, you dolt!  I can see what’s happening!” Wallace screamed.  “This is
a clear violation of corporate war!  It violates the very fiber of our principles.”

A
third voice entered the conversation.  “How, Viscount?”

Wallace
spun to face the questioner, eyes burning like supernovas.  The Red Admiral
opened his mouth to castigate the simpleton but came face-to-face with Archduke
Dunmore.  Discretion immediately reined in his temper.  Wallace inhaled deeply
and held it for several seconds.  Only after an equally deep, purging
exhalation did he explain.  “My Lord, they are abusing the designs of our line
ships.  First, with their stunt at the tunnel point and now, with their armed
shuttles. 
All
corporations build their line ships as we do.  Imagine
the chaos that would ensue if we were to exploit the optimization of our
capital ships.”

“I
don’t need to imagine it.  I can see it presently,” Dunmore answered through
clenched teeth.  “Cite the exact rule that they have violated, Viscount.  The
Courts will insist upon it.”

Wallace
looked belligerently at Dunmore and opened his mouth to retort.  He hesitated. 
“I… I can’t.”  The left side of the admiral’s face brightened briefly, bathed
in the light of a large explosion near the stern of
Courageux’s
hologram.
 “Archduke,” he pleaded, “look at that!”  Secondary explosions inside the line
ship’s drives flared up in violent sequence.  “Where is the honor of combat if
just a handful of shuttles are allowed to change the dignity of war?”

“Admiral,”
Ladd interjected, “Commodore Harrow is requesting permission to strike.  He
says they cannot maneuver fast enough to unmask their batteries at the
shuttles.  He reports heavy casualties and loss of most of his propulsion,
including the tunnel drive.”

“No!”
Wallace spat in defiance.  “Courageux can’t strike to a mob of shuttles.”

Dunmore
examined the holo-tank.  The ships sailing behind
Courageux
were virtually
untouched.  Ahead of the rearguard though, other ships were in crisis.  Inside
the main,
Formidable
had taken moderate damage while brutalizing
Seshafi’s second-rate but
Renown
had been nearly destroyed.  The brig
had failed to turn with the rest of the formation and trailed so much flame the
CEO wondered if the ship was a write-off.  The remaining brig and snows in the
main had each taken their share of damage from their counterparts but looked
able to continue the fight.  Forward of the main, the ships in Sade’s vanguard
had experienced their own Seshafian treachery.

It
was abundantly clear to everyone inside Sade’s command ship exactly why the
enemy had placed the battle’s location so close to the Ugrit tunnel point. 
What Wallace had assumed was just another personal jab against him, Dunmore now
recognized as a brilliant maneuver to bring his vanguard under fire from opposing
directions.  Even the poor showing of the Seshafian fleet during the practice
runs had been a ruse to not only lull Wallace into a false sense of security
but to position his fleet where the vanguard would be susceptible to a squadron
diving in from the tunnel point.  The incredible timing required to execute
such a move brought a grudging respect from Dunmore.  The scheme resulted in two
disabled Saden ships that had endured the worst of a gauntlet of fire along
each of their beams.  With the privateer brig,
Gallant
, and the snow following
it now out of the fight, Sade’s vanguard was down to a heavily damaged third-rate
and three privateer snows.

The outcomes
were not completely one-sided though.  Seshafi’s pitiful rearguard had been demolished. 
Neither of the pressed freighters had survived the pass and the third
freighter, some kind of converted shuttle transport ship, had been blistered as
well.  The rearguard’s only real warship, a corvette named
Dash
, had
suffered not only a near miss from a
Courageux
missile but been partially
raked by the line ship herself.

The
Sadens had won the clash between the rearguards.  The mains had traded blows in
near equal measure.  Only the vanguard bout had been decidedly lopsided in
favor of the defenders.

“Admiral,”
the archduke said, “you are not responsible for the disastrous state of our vanguard. 
No fleet admiral has ever before pulled off such an incredible display of tactics,
timing and position as that.  However, you are accountable for how you respond
to this.”  He gestured curtly toward the holo-tank. 
Courageux’s
image glowed
fiercely as she continued to sustain sporadic laser fire from the hornets
twirling around her.  Each word spoken by the CEO now grew louder than the
last.  “Every flash of light on Courageux represents hundreds of thousands, if
not millions, of credits
I
must spend in repair.”  The man was red-faced
now.  “You
will
allow her to retire while there is something left of her! 
Order it now!”

Wallace
took an involuntary step back and nodded humbly. “Very well.  Send the signal,
Damien.”

“Now,”
Dunmore continued threateningly, “can you still achieve victory, Admiral?”

“Of course,” Wallace
answered immediately.  He turned away from the archduke to face the holo-tank. 
After several moments of deliberation, he muttered less certainly, “I must.” 
Finally, Wallace ordered, “Prepare to record.”

*  *  *

The spellbound
crew on the Seshafian battle bridge watched the transmission.  The Red Admiral’s
voice was purified hate.  “This pass is over and you must call off your
damnable shuttles, Captain Nguyen.  I’ve ordered Courageux to strike, not
because of your shamefully inappropriate tactics but due to my concern for the
well-being of my fellow sailors.  Call.  Off.  Your.  Shuttles.  Yon.”

Heskan
took refuge in the chair placed behind him.  He had watched the combat pass
while standing but after the two-minute old light from the fleet reached his
command ship, he felt the energy drain out of him even as relief flooded in. 
Sitting down helped ease the spinning of the bridge and allowed him to
concentrate better.  The rising nausea promised that his respite would be
short-lived.  He gritted his teeth against the queasiness and said, “Commodore
Cohen, order Covington to come about and adjust speed so the fleet passes near…
here.”  He highlighted a portion of space close to the C-3 ship in the
holo-tank.  He looked over to Lieutenant Da Haas.  “Erika, record.”

Heskan
sat up as straight as he could.  Random back spasms made the task difficult.  “Greetings,
Admiral Wallace.  My apologies for not appearing sooner but I was busy down in
the media room.  However, I did make it up to the command bridge in time to see
Courageux quit the fight.”  He smiled congenially.  “Please inform Admiral Lane
and Commodore Montgomery that they’ll be joining him shortly.  And, as far as
my shameless tactics go, I’ve saved the best ones for last, Oliver.  You can
avoid them by offering me surrender terms that ensure Sade’s attempts of
conquest will come to an end.”  He waved his right arm stiffly toward his
communications lieutenant.  When he was sure the recording had stopped, Heskan
groaned as he relaxed his posture.  The pain radiating from his left shoulder
was becoming unbearable.  The clenching muscles in his back made his breath tumble
from him in muted whimpers.  He cursed the sound of weakness emanating from his
body.

Contrary
to his message, Heskan was out of tricks.  He knew now that victory today would
only be obtained through the usual methods: perseverance and sacrifice.  The
vanguard had fared as well as Heskan had hoped.  He had known all along that
Clayton Covington’s section would not face the vastly superior Saden section
alone, but he had been afraid to voice such assurances to his ship captains given
the known security leak inside his fleet.

What
had begun as a nasty suspicion after the battle in Sade had turned into near certainty
that an officer with access to the upper echelon of command was leaking
information to the enemy.  Archduke Covington and Heskan reluctantly accepted the
reality and had quietly positioned AmyraCorp security agents to covertly
monitor likely suspects.  Heskan had taken an additional measure and transferred
Andrew Brown from
Ajax
to the ship of his primary suspect.

The
surveillance measures had proven wise when a security team reported a
thirty-minute private meeting between Joseph Tannault and two Saden naval
officers on Nessus.  The conference, unrecorded due to the counter-surveillance
measures that permeated the corporate capital’s judicial district, was enough
to validate the earlier placement of Chief Brown as a failsafe aboard
Falcon
. 
As Lieutenant Merriweather’s face now occupied
Falcon’s
square on his
communications screen, Heskan assumed the chief had been forced to act.

Both
Ajax
and
Falcon
had acquitted themselves keenly inside the main. 
Falcon
had traded blows with
Superb
and both of the brigs, while
damaged, were functional.  Vernay’s vessel, on the other hand, had passed
within 3.7
ls
of her quarry to raze
Renown
.  Heskan felt a smile
appear on his lips as he realized that Vernay had brutally, and emphatically,
knocked the other Commander Tannault from battle. 
Ajax
, in return, had
sustained merely light damage during the pass.

The
only catastrophe was his rearguard.  Truesworth’s section had endured the epic
suffering Heskan had feared in his worst nightmares.  The two pressed
freighters, supposedly reinforced to ensure their survival, had both exploded
midway through the combat pass.  The auxiliary carrier had resisted destruction
but decompressed in numerous areas along her beam and sustained crippling damage
to her modified flight deck.  Finally,
Dash
was a wreck.  The little
corvette trailed a line of destruction behind her and struggled mightily while
making the course change to follow the main.  Damage reports updating in
Dash’s
status window had scrolled past a second page.

Yet
Dash
refused to strike her lights.  The battered ship, limping pathetically behind
the main with only an equally pitiable converted carrier, made Heskan’s heart
ache. 
Jack will never quit, not when he knows I need to field a rearguard
during our second pass.  If I don’t, Wallace will load up those ships into the
other two sections and crush us.
  Gooseflesh broke over him as he realized
that he would be forced to order
Dash
into a second run. 
It won’t be
around for a third.

Determined
not to let Truesworth’s sacrifice go unrecognized, Heskan opened up the command
channel.  “Seshafi defense fleet, hold at the coordinates I’m sending you
now.”  He glanced at the Saden fleet.  They seemed content to reorganize as
well.  He cleared his throat before asking, “Captain Truesworth, how’s Dash?”

The
reply came after a twenty-second pause.  “A lot like another corvette we served
on, Admiral.  But then, she carried us to victory, too.  Nest and I can give
you another pass, sir.”  There was the slightest pause before Heskan heard,
“Not sure after that.”

Heskan
swallowed the growing lump in his throat and began to reply but was stepped on
by
Nest’s
captain.

“Negative,”
Soffe said adamantly.  “I’m striking Nest’s lights, Admiral.  She won’t take
another pass and I didn’t come here to die for you people.”

Damn,
Heskan cursed
while searching the space around Dash
.  I can’t send him in alone.
 
There was nothing.

“We’re
with you, Jack.”  The muffled voice was Denise Gables.  “We can give you one
more pass.”

All
my friends are going to die,
Heskan thought miserably.

“Negative,
Gabes,” Truesworth responded over the net.  “You’ve already done your job.  Four
fighters won’t make a difference and we’re facing brigs and snows now.  You’ve
got nowhere to hide.”

“Listen
to me, Jack,” Gables called out.

“Shut
up both of you!” Selvaggio interrupted.  “Admiral, let my dive force at them. 
We’re in good shape.”

“No,
you’re not,” Truesworth responded angrily.  “Ravana took fire from every ship
in the van during your pass.”

“Quiet,
Jack,” Selvaggio admonished.  “Everyone knows I outrank you.  Admiral?  Let me
do it.  Please.”  There was a quiet desperation in her request.

Heskan
scrutinized Selvaggio’s squadron.  Her three-ship dive force had passed safely
by the Saden third-rate but had exchanged fire down the entire line of the remaining
Saden vanguard.  As the lead ship,
Ravana
suffered the worst of it but
even
Rindr
and
Anakim
took considerable damage during the strafing. 
They’re still in better shape than Jack’s ship,
Heskan weighed.