Rebel (14 page)

“Or you could do what Kris Longknife does,” Vicky said.

“And what would the inimitable Wardhaven princess do?” the captain said, evenly.

“Wait until the forward batteries fire themselves dry, then flip ship and give them the aft battery.”

“Hmm,” the captain said, rubbing his scalp. “That might work if they keep their full broadside to us, but if I know Engle at all, he’ll be as edge-on to us as I’m trying to get to him. If I flip ship, he’s likely to learn from me. Do you really want to teach your opposition so many new tricks the first time we go at them? This could be a long war.”

And Engle is your friend. If you can hit his ship as light a blow as possible . . .
Vicky did not finish the thought.

“Just a thought you might use,” Vicky said.

“I might. We’ll see what we shall see.” Captain Bolesław glanced at the screen. “When do we get in extreme range?”

“For us, sir, fifteen minutes,” Nav said. “For him, sixteen at the most.”

“Guns, do you recognize my voice?”

“Your voice is recognized and logged.”

“You will not open fire until I give you an express order. No one else may give you that order.”

“Understood, sir. We are not weapons free until you say we are weapons free. Sir, may I ask a question?”

“Ask.”

“If we are fired upon and the bridge is hit, what are your orders?”

The captain glanced at Vicky. “Guns, if you aren’t hearing anything from this bridge, you can assume that it has been a very short war.”

“Understood, sir, and thanks for taking us off the hook.”

“Guns, starting a war is way above your pay grade.”

“And it’s not above yours, sir?”

Bolesław almost snorted but answered with a curt, “Captain off.”

Now Vicky eyed Captain Bolesław. “I thought starting a war was reserved for my pay grade.”

“I considered that, and letting you give the order, but this is a Navy thing. I’m the captain, Lieutenant Commander, and you’re just a passenger aboard my ship. One overweight political elephant, but still just a passenger. I will decide when and where my ship fires.”

Vicky glanced down demurely. “I try to watch my cellulite, but it so does stick to my hips.”

“If it makes you feel better, you as the Grand Duchess may order me to return fire. I assume you’re only talking about returning fire after they started this shindig.”

“Most definitely.”

“Then you say your piece and I’ll give my order and we’ll get to Scotland together.”

“We have
got
to get better jokes,” Vicky said.

“After we win this war, we can hire a writer. Until then, we’ll just have to make do with what we can come up with in our stressed-out situation.”

Together, they stared at the screen.

“Ten minutes until we are in extreme range,” Nav reported.

The ship got very quiet.

“Five minutes until we are in extreme range.” Guns had taken over the litany on net from his station in fire control. At four, three, and two minutes, he updated the report.

“Guns, cancel all reference to our time to firing range,” Captain Bolesław said. “Report me the range to the approaching battleships with reference to the maximum range of a 15-inch gun.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. One hundred thousand klicks to maximum 15-inch range.”

“Guns, I want you to concentrate the two lasers in each turret at a single spot on the
Reprisal
. For the four forward turrets, pick four targets well apart.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Seventy-five thousand klicks.

“Fifty thousand klicks. We have dialed in the
Reprisal
, sir.”

“Very good, Guns.”

“Twenty-five thousand klicks.”

“Defense, put a full battle spin on the ship,” Captain Bolesław ordered.

“Spin is five . . . ten . . . fifteen . . . a full twenty RPMs. Ship is stable.”

“All squadron ships report battle RPMs and stable,” Comm announced.

“Five thousand klicks,” said Guns.

“Helm, one-quarter gee, put us bow on to the approaching ships. Begin Evasion Plan Addled.”

“One-quarter gee. Helm over. Commencing Evasion Plan Addled, sir.”

In her high-gee station, Vicky felt the ship slow hard, then swerve.

“We are taking laser fire, forward,” Defense reported. “One hit. No burnthrough. I am moving reaction mass to balance.”

Captain Bolesław turned to face Vicky.

“Captain, you may fire when ready,” she said without even taking a breath.

“Guns. Fire. You have weapons release,” the captain said with utmost calm.

“Fire,” Guns replied over the rest of the captain’s words. “We have weapons release,” was an afterthought. Admittedly, an important one, but firing circuits were closed on the order, well before weapons release was echoed.

“Comm. Order the fleet to open fire. Concentrate on the
Revenge
.”

“Squadron replies they are firing.
Revenge
is the target.”

The war Vicky so wanted to avoid had started.

CHAPTER 20

“P
ER
your orders, sir, we are concentrating all four turrets forward in tight, two-shot spreads,” Guns reported.

“Very good.”

On screen, the
Reprisal
had turned bow on to the
Retribution
. It glowed as lasers boiled ice to steam and sent waves rolling off it into the space around the battleship. Now it was easy to see the invisible lasers as they showed bright red in the roiling gases. The
Reprisal
was taking one concentration of hits to the right of center and two others widely scattered to left and right of the bow.

There was no evidence of burnthrough.

The lasers fell silent as capacitors ran down and began to recharge.

The
Reprisal
finally began to spin. Even Vicky could see the deep hole in the ice on its bow as it began to revolve around the battleship’s bow.
Reprisal
did a drunken jig; it was way out of balance and struggling. Still, it rotated.

“Good, Engle, you’re learning,” the skipper whispered.

“Damage Control here. We took only one glancing hit. Our spin reduced its impact, and we jinked out of it before it took off more than a few centimeters.”

“Lucky us,” the captain observed dryly. “Have they hit any of the other ships?”

“No, sir. It appears the
Revenge
missed entirely.”

“Give me a rundown until they finish reloading, Defense.”

“Seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . .”

“Helm, jink down, now.”

“Helm down now.”

“One,” Defense finished. There was a pause. “We are not taking hits at this time.”

“Guns, concentrate our fire on four points. Two guns for each one.”

“I was going to aim for the hole we made.”

“Aim for a new place. Peel him, don’t gut him.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Retarget. Fire.”

“Peel him, don’t gut him?” Vicky asked.

“He saw what I did to him last time. He’ll know what I’m doing to him this time. I’ve only got three, maybe four shots at him. He will understand what I am telling him.”

I hope I understand what you’re telling him.
But Vicky said nothing.

A lot of steam came off the
Reprisal
this shoot. Sensors got a good view of the lasers aiming for the
Retribution
. Both hostile battleships fired their forward battery. None hit.

“The cruisers are coming in range of us,” Defense reported.

The captain ordered a jink up, but the cruisers didn’t fire. A second jink down didn’t draw fire from them either.

“The battleships are coming up on reload time,” Defense reported, “in five . . . four . . . three . . . two.”

“Helm, go left with all you got,” the skipper ordered.

“Going left hard,” the helmsman answered.

“One,” Defense said.

“Both battleships and both cruisers fired. All missed to the right.”

“Yes,” Captain Bolesław said excitedly, but softly. “Guns, concentrate everything you got on the
Revenge
.”

“
Revenge
, aye, sir. Retarget.
Revenge
. Four tight salvos.”

The second battleship in line began to light up. The
Slinger
had been trading blows with it for the last half minute, but its four forward 15-inchers had only scarred the surface. Now a big gouge opened up at the lower center of the ship’s bow.
Steam shot off in geysers. It was hurt, but there didn’t appear to be any burnthrough.

The battle paused while both sides reloaded.

“You got any preference for the next salvo, sir?” Guns asked. “I figure they get one good shoot before we get out of their range. We get maybe two more while they run from us.”

“Give the
Revenge
four tight hits, Guns. I’ll tell you what I want to do next after this salvo.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Captain Bolesław leaned close to Vicky. “Do you have a preference, Your Grace?”

“You clearly don’t want to blow either of those battleships out of space.”

“Not really. Today’s enemy may be tomorrow’s friend.”

“I’ve heard that can happen. Okay. I’d kind of like to give Count Crow a good-bye kiss.”

“I’m inclined to do the same. Some concentrated hit where we haven’t hit before.”

“Can you do that?”

“Only fools think they can control a battle, but it would be fun to put the fear of the Lord in that yahoo.”

“Anything that scares him, that leaves him worried that someone else might not take prisoners, is fine by me.”

“Then let us see what we can do.”

Captain Bolesław once again did his dance with the other ships, dodging down. One cruiser seemed to have guessed down, but its 8-inch guns were barely in range, and they did little more than warm the ice.

The battleships got off one weak broadside expending what they had managed to get into their capacitors as they slipped toward the limit of their range. They caught the
Retribution
between jinks, slashing maybe three meters of ice that would have burned through another ship’s armor but only made the
Retro
do an urgent jig.

Captain Bolesław had Guns finish reloading before ordering him to aim for the
Reprisal
. “Aim four concentrations for somewhere you haven’t pounded them before if you will.”

“The range is long, but I think we’re good enough to do that.”

The distant battleship began to burn in the lower left corner of its bow. It hadn’t taken a hit there though it might be close
to one of the smaller punches. Steam exploded. Huge chunks of ice flew off. The
Reprisal
was in trouble but lucked out as the lasers expended their stored charge.

“Well done, all hands,” the captain said on net. “Defense, secure from rotations. Helm, secure evasion actions. All hands, secure from general quarters. Damage Control, let me know what we need to do to assure the ship’s safety.”

A series of rapid-fire “aye, ayes” greeted his words.

For the ship’s crew, it had been the peak of a career. A live fire exercise that they came through with flying colors. They’d tell their grandkids about this day.

For Vicky, it was a kick in the gut.

I am a rebel against my father. I didn’t fire the first shot, but I fired nevertheless. I didn’t want war. Dear God, if you are above, I never wanted war.

But I’ve got one now.

CHAPTER 21

V
ICKY
sat in her high-gee station, her gut too roiled, her knees too weak, to get up.

Around her, the ship’s crew went about their business. Defense coordinated with Damage Control to get robots out to hose water into the gashes in the armor. They were few and shallow, but they were there, and no good skipper allowed armor to go unpatched.

First reports showed no casualties other than a few people who fell out of their high-gee stations when the ship zigged, and the Sailor zagged. There was a lot of laughter at their expense.

The captain was concentrating on making orbit, and Vicky was thinking about what she’d tell the station crew if they were under the thumb of some stay-behind security guards, when Lieutenant Blue cleared his throat.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but the Brunswick squadron is reversing course.”

“Nobody does that,” the navigator snapped.

“I don’t think anyone told the Count,” Blue answered, “because I’m looking at four ships that just flipped ship and are doing their wild-ass best to decelerate.”

“Poor Engle,” Captain Bolesław muttered. “Now he has to attack us.”

“They are indeed trying to return to the station,” Nav reported. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get you an estimate of how long it will take.”

“Please do so, Nav.”

“Can we catch the station?” Vicky asked the skipper.

“Yes. We may need to go to 1.25 gees to do it. I believe the freighters were specifically chosen because they had the legs for some hard tacking.”

For the next hour, they tacked hard. They were on final approach when the screen came alive. They found themselves looking at a middle-aged man with a large paunch in Security Consultant reds with a bit less gold and silver but large death’s heads on his lapels. Behind him stood a ramrod-straight major in undress Marine greens and a station boss in civilian clothes.

It was the Security Consultant who spoke for them all.

“You will not approach this station. It is under the Empress’s protection.”

With a nod from Captain Bolesław, Vicky stood to give the reply for their side.