Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (43 page)

I
only have a couple snows and a single corvette out of two entire sections,
Heskan thought grimly as guilt began
to pass through him. 
What was I thinking?  There’s a reason these captains
feared a second pass.
  The appalling attrition was exacerbated further by
Elathra’s
inability to offset the horrific losses with damage reports from Wallace’s
fleet.  “Jack, what’s the status of the Fisheye?”

“Bad,”
Truesworth said simply.  “It’s barely able to keep up with the tactical
display.  I’m getting some shared data from Ravana though.  Let me split the
center screen.”  The screen divided and a rudimentary status display appeared
for Wallace’s fleet.  Damage markers painted themselves on every ship in each
section.

Thank
you, Ravana
,
Heskan thought gratefully.  He glanced at his fleet status display.  A
Seshafian lieutenant named Covington commanded that snow. 
Have to remember
him
, he promised as he brought his attention to the center screen.

The
enemy fleet had not been spared. 
Elathra’s
counterpart,
Courageux
,
suffered massive propulsion damage from multiple particle cannon hits and was
wallowing.  In fact, three of the four remaining ships in the enemy vanguard,
while able to maintain formation, had struck their lights.  Heskan noted one of
the retirees was
Sultan
and smiled as he thought of her captain. 
Sorry,
Dexter, old boy, do you still welcome me to this slice of the galaxy?
  A
lone snow,
Spite
, appeared to have been stripped of the majority of her
weapons but stubbornly refused to concede. 
One section down
, Heskan
counted elatedly.

The
Saden flagship,
Formidable
, was marked with heavy damage ranging from
the loss of weapons to the destruction of not only her AIPS capability but both
of her shield generators. 
Would she risk a third pass?
Heskan
wondered.  The news regarding the rest of the Saden main was bitterly
disappointing.  The brigs and snows had taken only moderate damage. 
We’ve
lost two ships, including our flagship, and most of the main section.  And for
what?  A bit of damage to some of their ships and maybe the retirement of that
second-rate.
  Heskan shook his head. 
Not worth it.

The
status of Wallace’s rearguard looked initially dismal as well.  Only one of its
snows was obviously knocked out of the battle, with lights dimmed.  However,
upon closer inspection of the damage markers, Heskan saw that critical systems
were hit on three of the remaining four ships.  Boosting his spirits further,
the most heavily damaged ship was also the largest brig, his nemesis from the
first pass,
Scepter
.

Heskan
leaned back in his chair as he considered the outcome. 
We have about a
section and a half of ships, all damaged.
  He squinted at the enemy fleet
status and counted. 
They have nearly two full sections.
  He nodded
firmly to convince himself. 
The numbers aren’t horrible but it’s still my
snows and corvettes against their brigs and snows
.

He
traced a finger around his console as he reorganized his fleet. 
Do we have
enough?

“Prepare
to record,” Wallace said irritably from his extravagantly padded command
chair.  His fleet had been battered senseless in the last action but the deed
had been done.  Even though
Formidable
and
Courageux
would
require months of repair along with numerous brigs and snows, his skill and resolve
had smashed the enemy to pieces, including the complete destruction of
Seshafi’s flagship.  Most important to Wallace was the pounding the
insufferable privateer captain’s snow had taken.  The imbecile dared to pit
himself against a ship of the line and his arrogance had cost him dearly.  From
the comfort of his C-3 ship, Wallace watched the skirmish play out in a
time-delayed optical.  Although originally irate that
Courageux
had not
dispatched its opponent outright, Wallace was satisfied when his battle analysts
projected the results of the fourth-rate’s third shot from the second lens of her
quad GP laser mount.  That particular event had pierced deeply into
Elathra
at such an angle that the odds of a bridge hit were ninety-two percent. 
The
outlander fool insulted the wrong man,
Wallace thought smugly.

“Ready
to record, Admiral,” a communications officer replied eagerly.

Wallace
steeled himself with a stern expression.  “To the commander of the Seshafian
fleet, whoever you may now be.  I will accept nothing less than your
unconditional surrender due to your hubris of insisting upon a second battle
pass.  Many of your ships have, rightfully, struck their lights.  I will give
you ten minutes upon receipt of this message to surrender the entire fleet or I
will demand extraordinary terms for your personal lands and family holdings
when IaCom inevitably absorbs this system.”

Wallace motioned
curtly at his communications officer and then waved his advisor forward. 
“Damien, we must send some escorts out to
Courageux
.  She’s drifted
completely out of formation and I don’t want her honor impugned because of
that
man.”

*  *  *

Lieutenant
Gables stood at the end of the main hallway on the starboard wing’s only deck. 
The corridor ran the entire one hundred seven-meter length of the wing from tip
to stern.  Sixty meters ahead of her, a hellfire existed.  The heat emanated
not from raging infernos brought about by
Courageux’s
fire but caused by
Elathra
herself.  During the last combat pass, the links coupling the
snow’s GP lasers and particle cannon to her thermal management systems had been
severed, and the tremendous waste heat built during the encounter was trapped
in the forward portion of
Elathra’s
starboard wing.  The current
temperature was well beyond habitable limits.

Petty
Officer First Class Kevin Perritt pointed at the molten abyss and said, “Like I
told Chief Brown, we can’t reset the exchange from this compartment.  The
connections are all severed farther forward.”

Ordinary
Damage Controlman Dana Reed shook her head as she implored, “It’s impossible, ma’am. 
Maybe my shocksuit could withstand that kind of heat getting to the exchange
room but I’d never make it back.”

Gables
stared down the corridor.  After a mere ten meters, heat distortion made the
path almost unrecognizable.  “We can’t give up.  The captain is counting on us
to do our job.”

Perritt
pointed at his spaceman.  “Is it her job to commit suicide?” he asked cruelly. 
“Tell the captain to strike our damned lights.”

Gables’
eyes drifted toward Reed.  She hardly knew the young Seshafian.  Her face,
scarcely visible behind the tint of her visor, appeared to be about eighteen
years old. 
Can I really order her to her death?
Gables asked herself.  Perritt,
also a virtual stranger to Gables, was a bellicose non-commissioned officer in
the Seshafian Navy.  As a prior enlisted sailor, Gables encountered his type
several times before.  She had done nothing to curb the man’s belligerent
attitude in the minimal amount of time she had with her staff mostly because
Chief Brown acted as an effective barrier between her and the problem. 
Even
if he is an ass, is that reason enough to kill him?
  She looked down at the
deck. 
And who will cry for me?
  She shook her head subconsciously. 
Don’t
think like that, Denise.  You can do it.

Gables
tinted her visor to maximum and dialed her shocksuit’s temperature to below
freezing.  She jabbed Perritt hard in the chest with a finger.  “As soon as I
get the exchange back online, you notify Chief Brown.”

Without
further word, she faced the inferno and ran.

Her
shocksuit alarm sounded ten seconds into the race as her suit singed from Hollaran
green to brown before finally settling on charcoal black.  Gables’ extremities
felt the unbearable heat first but soon the glow from hell moved into her
core.  Pumping her legs faster, not thinking about her one-way journey, her vision
became obstructed first with sweat and then with tears.  By the time she
arrived at the compartment containing the only functioning heat exchange
control panel, her vision cleared because the tears in her eyes were
evaporating faster than her body could produce them.  Blackened gloves danced
over the panel.  The needle of a nondescript gauge dipped fractionally from red
to yellow when her modest task was completed.

Her shocksuit
beginning to ignite, Gables turned toward the exit and the corridor beyond.  It
may as well have been a hundred kilometers away.  The junior lieutenant stumbled
into an adjacent compartment before dropping to her hands and knees.  Near the
deck, the heat distortion was marginally less dizzying.  She willed herself
forward through another portal but the heat was unrelenting.  Before she knew
it, she was completely prone.  From her new perspective, she stared impassively
at the stars beyond a shimmering, translucent containment field.

*  *  *

“Starboard
weapons back online, Commander,” Brown said gruffly over the private channel.

“Good
work,” Vernay acknowledged and began to turn from the chief but stopped short
at his expression.

Brown
looked her squarely in the eye and stated, “Denise is gone, ma’am.”

She
winced at his words and turned quickly away.

Seated
beside her, Heskan was issuing fleet orders from his command chair.  “Captains Hayson
and Chadsworth, decrease your ship’s speed to point one-eight-C and join with Fly
to form a new main section.”

“What
for, Captain?” Chadsworth questioned after a six-second pause.  “Shouldn’t we
be following the ships that have retired from battle?”

“Not
yet, Lieutenant,” Heskan growled.  “You have your orders now carry them out.” 
He switched over to the general channel and addressed Wallace’s communique. 
“Command of the Seshafian fleet hasn’t changed, Admiral, and the way I see it,
it’s still an even fight.  You might not have noticed that, situated as far
from the battle as you are.”  He gestured to Truesworth to send his response.

“Captain,”
Chadsworth exclaimed in the fleet frequency, “you can’t be serious?  I’m not
dying to serve your ego in attempting a third pass.”

“Dammit,
Karl,” an angry voice rebuked in the channel, “he’s not doing it to serve his
ego, he’s doing it to protect our homes!”  The new voice was scathing.  “Wallace
has changed the game and IaCom wants everything we have.  Can you really assume
that your status is off the table if we’re defeated?  Are you telling me that
you’d let this privateer defend your home while you surrendered?”

Who
is that?
Heskan
wondered.  A quick check revealed the speaker’s identity as Lieutenant Clayton
Covington. 
Ravana’s captain again.  That man is a lion
.

Chadsworth’s
resolve was weakened though not extinguished.  “But what else is he going to
ask of us, Clayton?  I can face death but not a dishonorable one.”

“Captain
Heskan,” Covington asked earnestly, “can you promise us that whatever the
outcome, you’ll conclude this battle with honor… with corporate honor?  You
wouldn’t fire upon retired ships or threaten Admiral Wallace’s C-Three ship
directly, right?”

“Of
course not!” Heskan insisted with a wounded voice bordering on indignation. 
Scratch
my idea about Wallace’s ship,
he thought.  “This is about protecting your
homes, soon to be
my
home.  This is about sending a message to Wallace
and all the other armchair admirals that Seshafi won’t go gently into that good
night.  Our navy does not flag or fail; we push on, and any invader who would
dare try to take our home better be willing to pay the price we’ll exact.”

After
several moments of silence, Covington stated boldly, “
That’s
honor,
Karl.  Look at his ship!  If he’s willing to press on, I’m willing to follow
him.  Every sailor will eventually face his end.  We get to face ours protecting
our system and everything it stands for.”

Rumbles
of agreement coalesced over the fleet command channel.  Finally, when the
comradery settled, Chadsworth stated, “Very well, Captain.  Sell our lives
dearly, sir.”

Heskan clenched a
fist in triumph over his small victory while scanning the tactical plot. 
Wallace’s ships were scattering in anticipation of the battle’s end.  The
disarray among his fleet brought a smile to Heskan’s lips. 
He’s going to be
disappointed when he receives my message.

*  *  *

“…situated
as far from the battle as you are.”

The
jaw of Wallace’s assistant dropped open.  “What?  He’s been beaten… how can the
man not understand that the conflict is over?”

Wallace
inhaled deeply as he felt his cheeks flush with anger.  “He’ll draw this battle
out until both sides are eradicated.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “Damn
that man.  Damn that man!  Why would a privateer so eagerly insist upon mutual
annihilation?  Where is the profit in that?”

“You
wouldn’t actually consider a third pass, would you, Admiral?  We’d lose our
line ships!  Our brigs are already smashed!  The Unadex Corporation will,
undoubtedly, become aware of the results.”