A small sample of the adventure so far
Void Hounds Chapter 26
"The fires are out," Sato said, "But damage is extensive."
"How bad?" Harrison pressed as he leaned on the console.
"Engineers report starboard plasma cannons are wrecked, and the whole gundeck is a snarl of wreckage. We need weeks to fix this, if we even can. Propulsors are blown, they need to be replaced wholesale in a shipyard."
Harrison sighed, "Looks like my whiskey is safe after all."
Sato grimaced without mirth at the comment, turning back to his work. Harrison looked to the bridge, seeing his weary crew. Twenty hours they had been on duty, fretting every inch of the way that the Guilders would come after them. He should have stood them down to rest, but all other hands were busy tending Swiftsure's wounds. Another hour and he'd send for stimms to keep them going, he'd need one himself.
In the corner Artur Kivenen dozed, sitting on a low stool. Harrison hadn't seen where he got it, but didn't begrudge the former Director. He'd just seen his whole world turned upside down, his family torn from their homes and his world declaring him a traitor. Harrison would have sent him to tend to his family, but the man needed rest.
Suddenly Darvis sat up straight and yelped, "Comm-burst, dead astern!"
"Already?!" Harrison spat, "Yadav?"
"Stand by… grav-eddies confirmed. Someone is closing from aft."
Alarm ran through Harrison, the Settlers Guilders had found them. It had been a vain hope they wouldn't send a pursuit force, he'd known it, despite wishing it was not true. Swiftsure was wounded, the starboard guns crippled and her speed reduced. Escape was surely impossible, and fighting offered poor odds, but he saw no other choice save to make a stand.
He cried, "Combat alert! All hands to Battlestations, pilots to their fighters and drop a spysat!"
Artur jerked as he woke up, "What is it?!"
"Jackals on our arse," Harrison spat as he climbed into his seat.
Swiftsure pressed on, racing for the distant wormhole but in her wake she dropped a spysat. It soon fell behind and into its range sailed a squadron of hostile frigates: Guilder vessels, on a pursuit course. They were moving at one-fifth lightspeed, closing the gap rapidly. The Battlecarrier outmatched them individually, but in this crippled state he wouldn't bet on Swiftsure.
"Five enemy frigates," Yadav declared, "Four of them Attack-variants, one Lancer."
"They brought a ship-killer," Harrison growled, "They mean business."
"Can we handle five?" Shelton whispered.
"Not in any rational strategy," Harrison growled.
"What's that mean?"
"It means time to try something crazy."
He hit his comm circuit, "Wing Commander Farina."
"Farina here", she called back, "Who do you want me to kill?"
"Guilders on our arse, five frigates."
"Shant," she spat, "My fighters can't beat their shields."
"I know, but do you recall the Red Flag exercises three years ago, specifically what the Protector attempted?"
A long silence stretched out then Farina said, "You do recall Protector's manoeuvre failed?"
"I know, I'm daring you to do it better," Harrison said.
"Risk all our lives on a madcap stunt as likely to kill us as the enemy. Sir, you should have been a pilot," Farina chortled.
"Make it happen, you have one hour till they overtake us."
Harrison leaned back, trying not to appear worried. A stern chase was a long chase, Swiftsure was limping but the Guilders couldn't go that much faster. Propulsors were the finest accelerators known to man, but had a weakness. Energy requirements increased as speed climbed, a ship could reach one-fifth lightspeed quicker than any chemical or fusion drive, but once there couldn't exceed that velocity, not without powerplants so vast as to be impractical. Fighters with their tiny mass could massage that up to one-quarter, but those frigates were going as fast as they could already.
Minutes crawled by as Harrison watched the Jackals closing, inching nearer in the Holoviewer. It was a strange thing to watch one's enemy inching nearer for nearly an hour, but voidfarers were used to that. Artur tried to comment several times but Harrison shushed him, telling him to be patient and trust the crew.
Finally the comms crackled and Darvis called, "Signal from the Sablesnake: Intendent Edmynd demands we cut speed and surrender, or be destroyed. There will be no second warning."
Harrison growled, "Artur do you know this Intendent?"
"Only by reputation," Artur sighed, "He's fanatical, never gives up, never sways from his hunt. Makes sense Omeran would send someone like that after us, he never lets go once he's got his fangs in."
"He's about to find out this prey has fangs too," Harrison said, "Farina?"
"We're ready," she called.
"Then launch and take up position."
In the Holoviewer fighters spilled from Swiftsure's hanger, thirty-eight forming a ring around their mothership. Harrison hailed every deck, "We're about to be engaged by Jackal frigates, but we're not done for. We have half our plasma cannons and all the particle-lashes and ionic blasters. We outclass them in shields, armour and ordnance. Swiftsure isn't going to go down easy and she'll give them a fight to remember. Stand by to engage, power all weapons and charge shields. Helm, steer course two-seven-zero, mark zero. Ready portside batteries and prepare shooting solutions for long-range engagement, we have greater range on our plasma cannons, let's use it. Fighters: commence your attack run."
In the Holoviewer the fighters spilled forth, hurling themselves at the closing frigates. The range was long but nothing accelerated like a fighter in space. They hurtled across the distance, diving headlong at the closing frigates. Harrison tracked them every inch of the way, knowing they were throwing themselves into the jaws of death. A straight run at the enemy was risky against any foe, but these were no ramshackle pirate scows, they were the best of the Jackals and they were not slow to respond.
Suddenly point defence lit up the void, streams of flashing plasma bolts crisscrossing space. Smaller than main batteries but far more rapid, they streaked across their path, creating a web of defiance. The Void Hounds didn't pause, diving headlong into the maze of death. They jinked and they weaved, but always pressed forward, drawing ever nearer. As the distance closed the danger grew. The angles were tighter, room to manoeuvre shrank and time to respond times dropped. Any hint of predictive flying meant death, as targeting computers tried to guess where they would be. Random, instinctive evasion was the only hope to survive. It wasn't enough. One, two, three fighters disappeared in brief flashes, brave pilots atomised in the blink of an eye.
"That's close enough," Harrison growled. The fighters didn't agree, they pressed on, hurtling straight into the path of the frigates. Farina led them boldly and well, unflinching in the face of annihilation. They tempted death to claim them, laughing at their own endings even as another pilot winked out of existence. Closer than Harrison had ever seen fighters dare, beyond the bounds of courage, beyond sanity. Harrison couldn't believe any of them still lived, but they did, making the impossible possible through sheer audacity. In moments they drew to point-blank range, then they released their payloads and broke free. Thirty-four icons became sixty-eight as the fighters scattered, leaving drifting mines behind.
The Guilders had no time to respond before the mines awoke. Free-floating plasma cannons, fitted with stealth coating, sensors and micro-propulsors. They detected the incoming warships in an instant and locked on, dumping massive amounts of charge into the containment chambers. The Guilder's shields blazed as a firestorm of incoming plasma came out of nowhere, smashing into their bows like an artillery barrage. A blizzard of deflected energy inundated the Jackals, wrapping each ship in a hailstorm of destruction. Shields grew white under the barrage, tested to the absolute limit.
Each mine spewed streams of plasma at the targets, firing till their coils grew blisteringly hot. Their onslaught was ferocious but brief; they had no cooling mechanisms, no way to radiate heat into the void. In moments their own power destroyed them, melting the mines into slag or causing them to explode outright. Their service was brief but brilliant, throwing capital-ship-level destruction into the closing foe.
Harrison gripped his armrests as the Holoviewer struggled to see what was happening, flaring discharge hashing the images. When it cleared the result was clear. Two frigates were tumbling out of formation, their bows twisted snarls of wreckage and Propulsors slagged. They spun helplessly, unable to recover, primary systems annihilated. Drifting hulks, unable to move or fight. The other three limped on, shields blown out and hulls bleeding energy and air. They were wounded, but far from dead, closing on their prey despite the unexpected reversal.
"Two ship-kills confirmed," Shelton reported cool as a Pradesh ice-hawk.
"Did we get Sablesnake?" Harrison pressed.
"Negative, Edmynd's still going."
"Let do something about that, lock on portside plasma cannons."
Sato relayed the orders to the gunnery chiefs, and Harrison held his urge to shout for more haste. Throwing energy wildly into the void was futile, he had to be patient. Seconds crawled by and then finally the word came and Harrison commanded, "Shoot!" Swiftsure's portside gundecks lit up as plasma flew free. Across tens of thousands of kilometres it flew, shining motes searing the eye of any viewer. Blasts found the closing frigates and slammed into exposed hulls. Without shields they suffered greatly, thick armour deforming as star-hot matter chewed them apart. Compartments blew out, explosive decompression sucking crew from their stations, leaving them thrashing helplessly in their shipsuits. Fire, destruction and woe met the Guilders, and yet the range was great and more bolts missed than found their targets, despite mounting damage the enemy kept closing.
"Targets struck, moderate damage, they are advancing into their weapon's range," Shelton reported.
"Target both particle-lashes on that Lancer," Harrison ordered, "Hold for my order."
"Target locks confirmed," Sato replied.
"Not yet," we've got one chance only, we must be sure."
"Five seconds till Guilders enter weapon range," Shelton reported.
"Hold."
"Enemy has crossed the line."
"Now!"
The Guilders opened fire even as Swiftsure unleashed her wrath. Energy crossed in the void, bolts and streams creating an intricate lattice. The particle-lashes struck a hair faster, caressing the Lancer with vicious attention. One struck high tearing along the already battered ventral hull, slicing deep it decimated power conduits and ruptured oxygen lines. Fire spewed from the rent, pushing the ship into a spin, throwing off its aim. The other lash stuck low, slicing off a Propulsor fin, amputating the outrigger entirely. The Lancer spun away, helm control lost and bleeding power, dead in the void.
"Ship-kill," Shelton reported. Harrison's reply was lost as the return salvo smote Swiftsure's shields, battering them most cruelly. Harrison felt his chair pitch under him, and Artur cried aloud as his stool fell over tipping him to the floor. Gravity yawed hard as feedback disrupted systems, making the whole ship's interior canter right like a boat pitched over by an ocean swell. Alarms blared as the shields were tested to the limit, struggling to hold back devastating might and everyone's blood pooled in the right side of their faces.
"Shields are straining," Sato snarled.
"Return fire!"
"Retracking guns, we need thirty seconds."
"We don't have thirty seconds!" Artur cried.
"Forget the plasma cannons, ready ionic disruptors!"
On the gun decks secondary armament was awakened, electromagnetic pulsars aligning on the pair of closing frigates. Meant to wreak havoc on computers and targeting systems, they could disable any threat, but they were the shortest-ranged of all Swiftsure's weapons. They had to wait for the range to shrink even more. On the Guilders came, plasma cannons spewing torrents of firepower, battering Swiftsure's shields down one degree at a time. Their own ionic disruptors crackled with potential, ready to unleash their crippling power.
"Shields buckling," Sato barked.
"Fire on my command," Harrison ordered as he watched the ranges shrink.
"Shields collapsing!"
"Fire!"
Swiftsure's shields imploded at the exact same moment she fired. Electromagnetic squalls enveloped the Battlecarrier, but from them shot packets of crackling distortion. They struck one frigate, sending arcing energies through sensors and comm arrays. Into the ship they surged, travelling through data-trunks and info-relay till they reached the computers. There they laid waste to circuits and processors, overloading every system they found. The frigate fell out of formation, powerless and adrift, its might nullified.
Unfortunately the frigates had discharged at the exact same instant. Their shots caressed the exposed hull and Swiftsure suffered. Harrison rocked back as his screen flared brilliantly, and screeching electromagnetics wailed in agony. The Holoviewer dissolved into static and gravity cut out for an instant, only to return with bone-jolting force a heartbeat later. Swiftsure was hurting badly, her systems screeching in dismay. He felt the ship's torment as his own; any voidfarer worth the name knew their vessel's state by sound alone.
"Damage report!" Harrison yelled.
Sato hammered at keypads yelling, "Buffers isolated the effect but we've lost life support on decks two and three. Plasma conduits have locked down along the ventral spine. Particle-lashes offline, we need a full reboot of the primary systems."
"We still have plasma cannons," Harrison snarled, "Signal the fighters to finish the cripple and find me the last target."
Shelton was wrestling with her console, "I see him, he's moved past us. Off our starboard bow, turning to engage again."
"Starboard, where we're maimed," Harrison growled, "Meyer, bring us about hard a starboard, get him into the arc of our bow guns."
In the moment of blindness the last frigate had shot past, their relative velocities still thousands of kilometres an hour different. Swiftsure heaved about to bring her bows guns to bear, yawing hard in a tight turn. The frigate turned faster, a higher Propulsor-to-mass ratio meant her manoeuvring arc was tighter. She rolled over at a rate the bigger ship could not match, keeping out of the bowgun's fire arc. Sablesnake's flank batteries opened fire, hammering the ruptured armour on Swiftsure's side, mashing the shieldless vessel's hide relentlessly.
"Impacts!" Sato shouted, "Mounting damage to exposed sections!"
Darvis called, "Sablesnake signalling. Intendent Edmynd says he will send us to the hell we fear so much."
"Tell him he can save us a seat!" Harrison spat as the ship rocked in agony, "Get us onto his rear!"
"Sablesnake's circling too tight!" Meyer protested, "Swiftsure can't turn fast enough to bring the guns to bear."
"The hell she can't, pivot us along the X-axis, flip us over!"
Swiftsure began to rotate along her length, spinning her Propulsors over and under. Incoming fire began landing across her top, but the thick armour there was intact and withstood the onslaught, battered and melting, but just about holding together. Harrison heard every impact ring in the hull, but kept his eyes on the Holoviewer as the whole plane of battle flipped over. Sablesnake went from hanging off their starboard flank to the port, directly in the arc of the guns.
"Portside batteries locking on," Sato cried, "We have a shooting solution!"
Harrison uttered with a savage grin, "Finish this!"
Swiftsure's portside lit up as volleys of plasma flew free. Sablesnake was caught amidships, her torn-up armour failing under the weight of the barrage. On the shots came, on and on, hammering the frigate bow to stern. The greater weight of the capital ship's firepower proved unbearable and compartments were breached, filling the hull with fire and death. Guilders were reduced to atoms, capacitors overloaded and power conduits imploded, sending fatal feedback into engineering. A runaway overload shattered every protective baffle and suddenly the Cold-fusion reactors went hot. Sablesnake was torn apart from the inside out, expanding into a flaming fireball that sent twisted metal spinning away into the night.
The bridge was cut by a wild yell as Artur screamed in delight. Meyer and Darvis joined in a heartbeat later, youthful exuberance overcoming their discipline. Harrison felt relief wash through him, knowing how close they had come to disaster. He sagged in his seat, feeling every year of his life weigh upon him. It fell to Shelton to coolly announce, "Ship-kill confirmed."
Harrison swallowed to ease his hoarse throat then ordered, "Secure damaged compartments, access our wounds and order the fighters to land once they've confirmed the cripples aren't moving any time soon. Meyer get us back on a course for the wormhole; time we left Havestus system altogether."