Victory (22 page)

Bridge, ISS Warrior

Interstellar Space, 2.4 Lightyears From Sirius

Granger heard the gunshot through the comm speaker and knew immediately what it meant, without having to ask Proctor.

“Pierce?”

The rumble of distant explosions answered him.

“Tyler?”

He should have listened to her. Should have taken her advice more seriously. Paid attention to his crew. He was so consumed with winning, with victory, with saving the human race, that he forgot about the humans around him. They were people.
 

And people could break.

“Shelby,” he began, his voice low. “Can you hear me?”

The comm crackled as the computer automatically patched him to the nearest comm receiver. “Yes, Tim.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yes, Tim.”

Another explosion, this time throwing all of them against their restraints. The
Warrior
didn’t have long to live, either.

“Shelby, we need a CAG. Someone the pilots trust. Who’s the most senior?”

After a moment, she answered. “Ballsy.”

He almost protested, not wanting to trust such a huge responsibility to someone so young, so full of adrenaline and testosterone. Plus, the kid had had it in for him ever since he came back from the singularity claiming to see a Swarm-infested Granger on the other side.

But he’d been with the crew from the beginning. For some reason, Granger considered the formal decommissioning ceremony of the
Constitution
the beginning. That was when his crew was born. When the fire started raining down. The champagne bottle breaking at the ship’s christening was the pleasant baptism of water. The baptism by fire was what really made a person. Made a crew.

“Is he there?”

“No, sir. He’s out in his bird.”

He motioned over toward Prucha. “Put him on.”

Could he do this? Could
Granger
do this? It felt hopeless at this point. So pointless. Why continue, why keep on fighting, if the cold death of space awaited them all in just a few minutes?

He noticed the bridge crew staring at him despondently. They were used to seeing the Hero of Earth in action, sure and confident in himself and his crew.
Dammit, they still need their hero
.

Could he pull things together one last time?

“Here, sir,” came Volz’s voice.

“Ballsy,” he said, using the semi-vulgar callsign. He’d act a swaggering hero, if only for a few more minutes. “I hereby appoint you CAG. Your mission: kick ass.”

“Uh ... yes, sir.”

“And your first assignment as CAG is to take out ten Swarm carriers in the next five minutes. Can you do that, Lieutenant?”

Volz flustered. “Sir? I don’t think that even a thousand fighters—”

“Ballsy, I gave you an order. I didn’t ask for excuses or hesitation. Now by my count, you’ve got over a hundred fighters with osmium bricks slowing them down, and no singularity targets to hurl them at. The
Warrior
is about to make an Omega run to end all Omega runs against the Swarm formation harassing the
Victory
, and I want to see some epic ball-busting on your end. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Commander Proctor will stay in the Fighter Combat Operation center and direct things until you manage to get back in. But don’t come back without blowing up a few cumrat ships. Granger out.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Fighter Bay, ISS Warrior

Interstellar Space, 2.4 Lightyears From Sirius

One of the fighter deck technicians managed to wrest the door open to the combat operations center, and Proctor took the steps three at a time. The CAG’s assistants followed him in—they’d been sent away for whatever reason by the late Pierce, and when she finally saw the body, surprisingly, it didn’t faze her so much as anger her.

As much as she wanted to respectfully pick up the body and lay it gently in the corner, there was no time. She unceremoniously shoved Pierce out of the chair, and in spite of the blood soaked into the fabric and pooled on the floor beneath him, Proctor sat down and pulled herself up to the console.

She took in the tactical situation. Ninety-eight fighters left. She breathed a quick sigh of relief when she saw that the Untouchable crew was still alive. That meant their new CAG wasn’t dead yet, at least. That would have been a new record—two CAGs within ten minutes.

She keyed herself into the whole fighter wing. “This is Proctor. Ballsy is the new CAG, people, but until he gets back to the nest, I’m it. Form up into your squadrons. Ignore the Swarm fighters. New target is the Swarm formation currently picking apart Alpha Wing of the fleet. Two fighter squadrons per carrier. Full acceleration until you reach maximum safe breakaway speed, then release bricks. Target....”

She paused. She knew eight osmium bricks wouldn’t be enough to disable a Swarm cruiser, at least not at these speeds. But they could at least neutralize ninety-eight antimatter turrets, which would at least buy
Warrior
,
Victory
, and Alpha Wing a few more minutes.

“One brick per antimatter turret. My lovely assistants will make individual squadron assignments,” she glanced at Lieutenant Schwitzer and Ensign Spiriti.
Damn, they look too young to even be in flight school, let alone have graduate.

Granger’s voice blared out of the comm. “Shelby, you ready down there?”

She watched the tactical layout as the fighters started to respond, and winced as two more birds blinked out as they were caught in a Swarm crossfire. “Fighters moving into position, sir.”

“Good.
Warrior
will head out now, and hopefully distract their attention away from your people.” The comm channel stayed on, and Proctor heard Granger give the order for full thrust toward the Swarm formation, now at eighteen carriers. On the tactical display she saw that Alpha Wing was just barely hanging on: only fifteen ships, half of those disabled, but their fighters still fought desperately. They’d apparently caught onto the lack of singularities, too, as they’d begun launching their osmium bricks at the carriers as well. In such close quarters and with low speeds, though, the bricks were significantly less effective. Time to ramp things up.

The
Warrior
started to pull away from the remains of the battle near Delta Wing, and accelerated up to half a kps, then three quarters. Soon they’d reached a full kilometer per second, and they were over halfway there, guns blazing.
Warrior
’s—and Granger’s—signature move.

She noticed they were aimed at one of the carriers. Not dead center, but at an angle such that the underside of the
Warrior
, already devastated from multiple battles using it as a shield for the rest of the ship and other IDF vessels, would bear the brunt of the glancing collision. Not quite an Omega run, but the experience would not be a joy ride.

The fighters were in position, lined up by squadron and already accelerating toward their targets.

Showtime.

Chapter Forty-Nine

X-25 Fighter Cockpit

Interstellar Space, 2.4 Lightyears From Sirius

Volz and his Untouchable crew were lined up in their brick-launch formation. Not a static line—no sense in providing the Swarm fighters with easy targets—but they’d settled into a near-maximum acceleration vector alongside the
Warrior
, making occasional evasive maneuvers to avoid the stray bogey, while lining up their sights on the assigned targets.

Two kps, two point five kps, three kps ... at this speed the explosive energy from the osmium bricks tearing through the Swarm’s hulls would be unstoppable. The carriers might be huge, but a solid chunk of metal the size of a fighter slicing its way down the entire length of a ship was something else entirely.

“Launch in ten,” said Commander Proctor through the comm.
 

Volz was still trying to wrap his head around being the new CAG, but he pushed it from his mind—he didn’t need to think about that until he got back. “Look sharp, people,” he said. “Keep an eye out for bogeys as you launch.” He kept the nose of his bird lined up on the assigned carrier, and centered an antimatter turret in his scope—may as well make sure he at least took one of those out.

“Three ... two ... one ... launch!” Proctor shouted.

Volz pressed the release trigger after one final burst of acceleration, then immediate kicked in his reverse thrusters and veered away from the carrier before he slammed into it.

Blazing by the Swarm ship at breakneck speed, he craned his neck around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the aftermath, making sure the auto-deceleration subroutine was engaged. Sure enough, the carrier his crew had targeted suddenly had four gaping holes from where the remains of the osmium bricks had shot out the backside. Secondary explosions erupted all over the ship. The carrier wasn’t destroyed—it still hobbled along and even attempted to veer out of the way of the
Warrior
, but the guns all fell silent.

“Yee haw!” shouted Pew Pew.

Fodder’s outburst was less positive. “Aw, shit.”
 

“What happened?” said Spacechamp.

“Release mechanism malfunctioned,” said Fodder. “My brick is still attached.”

Pew Pew snorted. “Well, Mr. Asterisk-one-big-unit, we can always help you get it off.”

“That’s what she said,” Fodder quipped.

“Here, let me shoot it out from under you. Turn around and hold still.”

“I hate it when other men tell me that.”

“Guys, another time, please?” Volz was watching out the viewport at the aftermath of the modified Omega run. The
Warrior
was coming in fast toward a carrier that was still actively firing. Destructive green beams lacerated the
Warrior
’s already devastated hull. “That’s not just an intercept course, people.”

Spacechamp swore quietly. Fodder and Pew Pew swore less quietly.

“She’s coming in for an actual Omega run,” said Volz.
Damn. That dreadnought had better be worth it.

Chapter Fifty

Bridge, ISS Warrior

Interstellar Space, 2.4 Lightyears From Sirius

“Time?”

“Ten seconds,” said Ensign Prince.

Granger tightened his seat restraints. This would be a wild ride, if they survived it at all. “All hands, brace for impact.” And again, to Ensign Prince at helm, “Look sharp, Mr. Prince. Just a graze. Slide along the surface and take out as many turrets as we can.”

“Doing my best, sir.”

Granger nodded. “I know you are, son. And a damned fine job you’re doing too,” he added, remembering Proctor’s recent lectures. He’d failed Commander Pierce. He wouldn’t fail the rest of them. At least, not in the few minutes they had left.

The distance separating them from the carrier shrunk at an alarming rate, and before he knew it, they hit, grinding across the surface, their hulls scraping together. The ten meters of tungsten armor plating served the
Warrior
well, preventing the Swarm hull from gouging up into it too deeply.

But the energy of the collision shocked them all. He was thrown against his restraint so hard he was worried he’d snap his neck. He knew there were injuries among the bridge crew as some of the officers didn’t have the full restraints he did, and he knew in his gut that many in the lower decks had perished.

They shed velocity quickly, and when they’d flown past the carrier, the
Warrior
’s lower hull glowed red. “One more, Mr. Prince. Slide us along the carrier just ahead.”

They repeated the modified Omega run, thrusters pushing them into position until they started grinding across the hull of a second Swarm carrier, knocking down turret after turret. antimatter beams from a dozen other carriers ripped into the upper hull, flashing green across the viewscreen until their view was almost completely washed out.

“Fighter bay reports brick deployment. Ninety-five launched. Over eighty-five antimatter turrets destroyed across ten carriers,” said Diaz.

The viewscreen flashed with green beams, but noticeably fewer. The remaining Alpha Wing cruisers were regrouping, concentrating their fire on the Swarm carriers that still had full guns.

“Cap’n,” came a tired voice from the comm.

Granger had been waiting for this call from his chief engineer.

“Yes, Rayna?”

“That second run cut through our main coolant line.”

“Did you shut down the plant?”

Silence. “It’s ... it’s stuck, sir. The automatic shutoff is damaged, and the manual controls are ... well, the compartment they’re in is open to space at moment.”

He grit his teeth. “How long?”

“Less than five minutes until we lose reactor containment. After that, we’ll have less than a minute until we go boom. Let’s ... just make it an even five?”

She sounded oddly calm about losing her second ship. If he remembered correctly, her grandfather had been the assistant chief engineer aboard the
Warrior
in his time.

He hoped it had been worth it. “Understood, Commander Scott.” He flipped on his general alert comm. “All hands....” He glanced over at Diaz, who nodded gravely. “Abandon ship. All hands to escape pods. Ship destruction in less than five minutes. Repeat, abandon ship.”

The bridge crew ripped off their seat restraints as they began to exit. The bridge was deep in the core of the ship, and the nearest space pods were a good two minutes away. He eyed the tactical display, noticing a third carrier ahead of them that was still firing, and intercepted Ensign Prince before the young man stepped away from the helm.

“One more thing, Mr. Prince.” He pointed down at the tactical display on the helm’s console, and tapped his finger on the image of Swarm ship ahead of them. “This carrier’s fighter bay doors are open. I want the nose of the
Warrior
stuck in there before we leave.”

A minute later, Ensign Prince nodded as the ship swayed again. “Done, sir. We’re lodged pretty firmly in there.”

“Good. Go. Get to your escape pod.”

Prince ran out the doors. Only himself and Proctor left—she’d run up from the fighter bay when he’d called for the evacuation. “I need to pick up a few things from my lab on the way. And Fishtail—she might still be a valuable link to the Swarm if we need it.”