Last of the Immortals (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 3) (23 page)

And just like that, battle was joined.

Emmerich snarled under his breath.

The embarrassment at
Petron
.

All the months of seething on the flight home afterwards. All the planning to bring everyone together at this one place. To have Jessica Keller and the
Sentience
where he could kill them both at one time.

There would be no escape for either of them.

“Captain Baumgärtner,” he said forcefully. “Please confirm the scanner readouts.”

Emmerich retreated into himself and gamed out various scenarios as the command crew worked and rechecked figures.

“Admiral,” the captain replied confidently. “Those vectors are substantiated. The enemy squadron is coming out to do battle.
Auberon
and the battlecruiser, plus their escorts, with a squadron of fighter craft on each wing.
Auberon
’s craft will be on our starboard as we close, with the local militia on the port. They appear to have held back some fighter craft and a pair of barely–armed patrol boats defensively, so we are facing nine on that wing instead of all twelve.”

Inside, Emmerich smiled. It had been a long time since he had encountered a truly worthy opponent. The target he wanted was tucked carefully in the center, protected by the heaviest guns available. Cavalry on both wings ready to swoop and pounce if he turned either direction to engage them separately. All enemy forces on the planetary plane, preventing him from simply by–passing them on his way to strafe the station.

It was masterfully done, for someone with very little battlefield intelligence ahead of time.

Still, he was here as Napoleon, master of the field of battle.

This battle would be the subject of any number of doctoral theses and adventure novels in the future. Best then that it was a war of the titans.

“Captain, assume the current maneuver cones are vectors and plot the intersection on the main projection.”

The chaos of cones and shapes resolved itself quickly into three blue lines closing, and did not quite intercept the green line
Amsel
was taking.

So, a fencing pass, was it
?

No, this was Jessica Keller. Look for the third and fourth derivatives. She will not have planned only two steps ahead
.

“Sensors,” Emmerich called out. “Review your logs and your readouts. Keller frequently uses the fighter squadron launch as a cover for committing mischief. Have all vessels execute a hard sweep of their immediate vicinity. They already know we are here.”

“Stand by,” a man’s voice replied. “Affirmative. New target acquired. Designation Delta One.”

Emmerich felt the sudden surge of adrenaline slowly taper off as the new icon appeared on the screen, well back from the rest of the
Aquitaine
forces.

“Target appears to be a standard administrative shuttle, Admiral. It maneuvered briefly into its current position and then stopped. Vessel has held steady since then.”

Emmerich’s brain snapped back to the battle at
Qui–Ping
. The rout. Hounding Keller. Losing the battlecruiser
Muscva
to a surprise missile strike.
Auberon
tumbling like a wounded duck through space. And then…

Even when he was a prisoner/guest aboard
Auberon
, it had been impossible to get the truth about what they had done to escape. Imperial Intelligence had concluded someone had turned a standard orbital mine into a platform to fire a single primary beam. Considering the other mines that had been left behind by Keller and Kermode, it was a safe bet. Certainly, all of his attention and
Amsel
’s shields had been pointed forward, letting the primary beam carve a wound deep into the Blackbird’s back.

It was not a mistake he would make twice.

Yes. A fencing pass. Race past the Republican forces on his way to the station, firing en passant as he did. And stumbling right into another primary beam when and where he least expected it, poised to do the most possible damage
.

Clever
.

Not clever enough
.

Two can play, young lady
.

“Navigation,” the Red Admiral called out. “Bring the squadron down to one half speed and spread the escorts out a shade. I expect a time–on–target missile launch from all three foes. When they do launch, all vessels drop immediately to one quarter speed and go fully defensive without waiting for orders from the flagship. That should throw off their timing.”

Emmerich watched and listened as Captain Baumgärtner translated and relayed his orders.

“Sensors,” he continued after further thought. “Plot a sphere around Delta One at the range of a standard primary beam. Navigation, do not cross that boundary without orders.”

A chorus of affirmatives came back from the room.

No, she would not fool him again
.

Chapter XXXIX

Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Above Ballard

“Giroux,” Jessica comm–ed from her comfortable flag bridge seat. “Confirm that last bit.”

“Stand by,” the sensors centurion replied.

She took a breath and watched the little dots in the projection shift and realign.

“Confirmed, Commander,” Giroux said finally. “Enemy squadron has slowed by roughly a third. Best estimate, they’re moving about half speed right now.”

Jessica fought down a smile. Plan Two was designed to keep him from swooping past her and destroying the station in a running chase before she could stop him, but there was always a risk that he could catch her out of position as she came out to fight him.

He might have just made his first mistake. There weren’t going to be many today, not at this level of chess, and any of them might be terminal.

What would cause him to suddenly be cautious
?

Jessica studied the movement vectors again carefully. Certainly, the Red Admiral was poised to engage a wall of incoming missiles on three sides. It had been his tactic in the first place, on her second raid of
2218 Svati Prime
. Only her utter paranoia, and Wachturm’s intent on going after her and
Auberon
, instead of one of the escorts had saved the day. That, and him having to hand off a really good plan to merely–average commanders to execute.

The Red Admiral would have seen her formation that day and reacted better, had he been there.

He was here now.

But he wasn’t on his game.

A little gold star, well behind the squadron, high in
Ballard
’s orbit, got her attention.

A–ha
.

Yes. He had seen them launch shuttle number two and was expecting a surprise
.

She smiled to herself. It was
Qui–Ping
, all over again.

Wrong surprise
.

Vectors aligned in her head.

“Enej,” she said suddenly. “Shift the squadron three–five–five, down eight, and then have them prepare to flatten that back into a reciprocal but parallel course to close with
Amsel
. He’s expecting us to either turn soon, or try to get down to primary range and engage. I want him to keep thinking that right up until we maneuver.”

“Affirmative, Commander,” the flag centurion replied, leaning forward again to talk into a sound–deadening microphone.

Around her, Jessica could feel
Auberon
begin to roll onto one wing.

There was just something about how the gyros responded and the whole hull changed pitch. Very few people she had ever encountered had understood, but they had all been warriors, deeply in tune with their chariots. They knew.

“Squadron, this is the flag,” she said, keying the wider comm with her voice. “Enemy squadron has slowed their approach to
Ballard
, so we will delay missile launch. All targets remain the same.”

The
Aquitaine
warships had the same number of missile tubes as the approaching Imperials, but the two flight wings put them both to shame with the number of rails they could fly. Only once, granted, but it would still be an amazing amount of firepower going down range.

Pity most of it would be wasted, but still, it would serve to distract the Red Admiral at the time she needed him back–footed.

The carnage today was likely to be an epic fit for the ancient Vedas on the Homeworld. Ancient Sanskrit tales from the place on the lost Homeworld called India. Terrible battles with even–more–terrible gods. Millions of people killed and entire civilizations overthrown. And great champions who would not be cowed, even facing gods in single combat.

Ξ

Stralsund
’s bridge was always a quiet place, even in the midst of battle. Noise suggested chaos, and Arott would have none of that on his ship.

“Galina,” he said, waiting for his tactical officer to glance over. “We need to sell this well.
Amsel
and that battlecruiser are likely to be pouring all their fire into
Auberon
if Keller’s right. I want us to drift a little closer than planned as we get in there. Tease them. Any fire they send our direction is something that’s not going after Keller or the flight wings.”

“You really think they are going to ignore a battlecruiser to go after a carrier, Commander?” she asked.

“Keller’s actually betting on it, tactical,” he replied, sounding harder than he intended. Perhaps. “This is personal between them. This is a bully in a bar picking a fight with someone you know. We have to get in there and take care of business.
Stralsund
can handle it.”

“Affirmative,” she said simply, turning back to her boards. “Navigation and engineering, use maneuvering thrusters and gyros only to begin a side–slip. Maintain heading and plane, but force us to drift starboard and begin to rise, relative to
Auberon
and
Amsel
. Gunnery and defense centurions, we will roll starboard just before engagement to bring everything to bear, overhead relative. Prepare your firing solutions accordingly.”

Arott listened as his bridge crew adjusted. Just being around Keller’s legend had already had an effect on his people. Galina would have never tried something as subtle as a drift, once upon a time. Unless there were friendly dreadnaughts or Imperial battleships,
Stralsund
was at least the equal or better of any other vessel on the field of battle for firepower, and the master when it came to capabilities.

Now they were learning sneaky. If one could be said to be sneaky in a battlecruiser. But then,
Auberon
had perfected that art as a strike carrier.

He could learn, too.

Ξ

The darkness of deep space was seductive. It was one of the reasons that
Jouster
had always wanted to be a pilot instead of a ship bunny. You were out here alone, nobody to rely on, facing the other guy one–on–one.

At least normally.

It was rare to engage an Imperial squadron that didn’t have at least some level of fighter protection. He had been part of a wing that had gotten in the kill shots on the Imperial battleship
Klagenfurt
, when he was younger and on the war front, after they had swept away her pitiful escorts and hounded her into a bad orbital insertion.

That was before he was forced to grow up.

Today, he and his people were going to do a pretty good impersonation of a missile cruiser while they distracted the Imperials from the truly ugly surprises in store.

The wing was flying a standard
Aquitaine
formation out here, something they almost never did. Three little vee’s of fighter craft, with himself on the left and
Bitter Kitten
on the right and each of their teams on a plane behind them, like a flyby at a parade. In the middle of the formation,
da Vinci
in her little
P–4 Outrider
scout technically on point, with the two
S–11 Orca
medium bombers, flying like another team of
M–5
’s.

To the Imperials, it would look like a normal flight wing should. Even the GunShip
Necromancer
was where tactical doctrine said she should be, tucked in at the back of the formation instead of leading.

It was a stupid way to do things, putting all the firepower at the back and tying the melee fighters down in asinine ways. And it was one of the best things dragon lady had done, letting him adjust everything to take advantage of all the firepower
Auberon
and her extremely non–standard flight wing could launch from her flight bays.

Hell, the only ship not here right now was
Cayenne
, and that because too many sensor reflections from this wing might make someone actually look closely at them, instead of just assuming a simple flight wing assault with missiles.

Jouster
was pretty sure
Gaucho
was grinding his teeth, grounded on
Auberon
’s flight deck. Maybe he’d get his chance later.

All hell was about to break loose.

Chapter XL

Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Alexandria Station, Ballard

Damn it.

Sykes knew that fate was a fickle bitch, some days, but this was just pushing it a little too far. Station security had been almost comically easy to avoid for several days. Why did they have to find him now?

Worse, those people were good. Come to think of it, they were in forest green instead of gray, so they weren’t station security after all. They were
Aquitaine
fleet.

That made sense, in a coldly rational way. Obviously, he’d had free run of the station since he set off the first vac alarm. Not hard to do when you knew where they had disabled various sensors to hide from the
Sentience
. Others could hide just as well from them.

Obviously, the rogue demi–god had panicked and called in the fleet to save it. He would have done the same.