Into the Darkness: Crimson Worlds Refugees I (2 page)

“Very well, Chief. I’ll leave you to it.” She saw a sudden difference in McGraw’s expression, shock, tension. Then the non-com snapped to attention. She knew the veteran petty officer well enough to understand only one person on
Midway
could generate that kind of reaction from him.

“Well done out there, Greta.”

She turned abruptly and snapped to attention herself. “Thank you, Admiral Compton.” Greta Hurley was a force of nature, but Admiral Terrance Compton was like a god striding among mortals. Compton had nearly fifty years of service, having fought in both the Second and Third Frontier Wars. He’d been a hero of the rebellions, steadfastly refusing orders to bombard civilian targets, and somehow maintaining control of the fleet through the entire crisis. His victories were too numerous to be easily counted. He was the other half of the legend of Augustus Garret, the only naval officer who could match his lifelong friend’s prowess.

“I take it you understand the current situation, Admiral?” Compton’s voice was serious, but it lacked the grim resignation she’d heard in everyone else’s.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Well, I’ve got a plan, Greta, and I need your help to pull it off.”

“Of course, sir. Whatever you need, my people will see it done.” She felt the power of Compton’s legend, of his extraordinary charisma. She didn’t expect to live more than a few more hours, but there was adrenalin flowing, excitement about fighting again for this man. She could face death in battle, as long as she didn’t have to look into Compton’s eyes knowing she had failed him. Thoughts of doom and imminent death faded away, replaced by a surge of determination.

“Our position isn’t hopeless, Greta, no matter what everyone in the fleet seems to think. And this isn’t a suicide mission for your people either, so you remember that. It’s dangerous as hell, but I expect most of you to come back. In fact, I demand it.” Compton’s voice was firm, resolute.

“Yes, sir.” She had a pretty good idea of the tactical situation, and she didn’t see a way out. But she found some part of herself believing him, even as the rational side of her mind clung to its hopelessness.

She looked at the man standing in front of her. He was rock solid, not the slightest doubt or weakness apparent. Whatever Terrance Compton, the man, believed, the undefeated fleet admiral was firmly in control right now. She had a significant reputation herself, but now she drew strength from the man standing in front of her, feeding off his iron will.

Perhaps it’s part of the legend
, she thought.
The man is simply incapable of giving up.

*  *  *

“Admiral, we’re picking up massive energy readings from the X1 warp gate. Really off the charts…I can’t even get a steady fix.” Max Harmon was Compton’s tactical officer. Indeed, he’d also served Garret in the same capacity when Compton had been wounded, and he had the singular distinction of being declared the best tactical officer in the fleet by
both
of mankind’s legendary naval commanders.

Compton looked over at Harmon, but he didn’t reply. There was no reason. They both knew what had happened. Garret had detonated the device. If Dr. Hofstader’s calculations were correct—and Compton had no doubt they were—the X1 warp gate was now scrambled by a massive amount of captive energy that would only very slowly leak out. It would be centuries before a ship could transit to Sigma 4—and the human domains beyond.
And if it didn’t work, if Hofstader was wrong, every human being will be dead in two years
, he thought.

“Alright, Max,” he said, changing the subject. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on the fact that they were now officially cut off from home. “Transmit navigational instructions to the fleet.” Compton sat in the command chair on
Midway
’s flag bridge, as he had throughout the war. “We’re going to take it hard on the way in, but that can’t be helped. Ships are authorized to defend themselves the best they can and engage any enemy within range, but
nothing
is more important than following the nav plan
exactly
. We’re not going to be able to help any ship that falls out of the formation. This is timed to the second as it is.”

“Yes, sir.”

Compton sat back and listened to Harmon relaying his orders. He appeared confident, almost unconcerned, but it was 100% bullshit. He was nervous as hell, heartbroken at being cut off from human space, scared about what would happen in the next few hours. But he was Fleet Admiral Terrance Compton, and his people needed the legend now, not the man. If they were going to survive, he had to have their absolute best, and he wouldn’t get that from despondent spacers resigned to death. He needed for them to have hope, to believe they had a chance. Because he had come up with a way to give them that chance.

“All vessels confirm receipt of nav data, sir.”

“Very well,” Compton replied. He stared at the tactical display. “Get me Captain Kato.”

Harmon leaned over his station for a few seconds. Then he turned back toward Compton. “On your line, sir.”

“Are your people ready, Captain?” There was a noticeable delay. Kato was on
Akagi
, about a light second from
Midway
.

“Yes, Admiral. We are ready.” There was deep resignation in Kato’s voice, and Compton felt his stomach clench. Kato was a talented commander and an honorable man.
Just the kind who’d sacrifice himself if he thought he was saving the fleet
.

“Aki, this is not a suicide mission. You are to engage the enemy until the designated moment…and then your people are to board the shuttles and abandon ship. And let me be absolutely clear…
you personally
are included in my definition of ‘your people.’ Is that understood?”

Kato’s ship was badly damaged, and she had no chance to keep up with the fleet. Compton had ordered
Akagi
—and the other fifteen vessels too shot up to maintain full thrust—to form a line protecting the flank of the main force. They were to hold off the enemy as long as possible. But Compton had been clear. The ships were on their last mission, but the skeleton crews remaining onboard were not. He had ordered them to flee, and to link up with the rest of the fleet. The plans were clear, but Compton was still afraid of unauthorized heroics. It was easier for his spacers to throw their lives away when they believed they were as good as dead anyway. But he was still determined to get them out of this alive.

“Understood, sir.”

“Remember that, Aki. Don’t you dare get yourself killed. I need all the good people I can get now. Just do your best, and then bug out before it’s too late.

“Yes, Admiral.”

Compton flipped off the com. He hoped he’d gotten his message through. Aki Kato was one of the best officers in the fleet—and more importantly, he wasn’t one of Compton’s own. The fleet was an international force, and he knew if he managed to get them out of this he would have to deal with rivalries and old resentments. And he was doing nothing to help prevent that by having his own people in virtually every major command slot.

He wasn’t making decisions based on national preferences, at least not consciously. But he couldn’t help but trust his own people more than he did those from the other powers. Besides, the navy he and Garret had built was vastly superior to any of the others, and the officers who had developed under their tutelage and leadership were head and shoulders above their rivals. Compton had Alliance officers in key positions because they were the most skilled and reliable. But he knew it created bad feeling as well. A capable PRC officer he could trust was a precious commodity, one he could ill afford to lose.

He flipped on the com unit again, calling up Greta Hurley’s fighter. She and her crews were waiting in the landing bays of a dozen ships, armed and ready to go.

“You all set, Greta?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Admiral. The strike force is ready to launch.” Her voice was cold, hard. Compton wasn’t sure he’d convinced her they had a chance, but he was certain she would do whatever was necessary to carry out his instructions.

“Very well. You may launch when ready. And Greta, remember…this is not a suicide mission.” He was getting tired of reminding everyone of that fact. “I expect you to be at the designated rendezvous point spot on time. Understood?”

“Yes, Admiral. Understood.”

“Fortune go with you, Admiral Hurley.”

“And with you, sir.”

She cut the line, and a few seconds later, Compton felt
Midway
shake softly—the first of the fighters launching. He looked down at his display, watching the small blue dots assemble in formation. If everything went according to plan, those ships would launch their attack and then link up with the fleet. They’d have to match vector and velocity perfectly, and the slightest inaccuracy would prove fatal. But they’d have a chance, at least. And that was all Compton could give them now.

He stood up abruptly. “Max, it’s time. Give the fleet order. All personnel to the tanks now. Maneuvers begin in twelve minutes.”

And if everything goes perfectly, we just might make it out of this system.

*  *  *

“All weapons ready.” Kato was in
Akagi’s
command chair. His ship was wounded, mortally so considering the situation. Even if Compton’s wild plan was successful, the PRC flagship was far too damaged to escape. But she still had fight left in her, and Captain Aki Kato was about to demonstrate that fact to the ships of the First Imperium.

“All weapons stations report ready, Captain.” Yoshi Tanaka sat at the tactical station on the otherwise nearly empty bridge.
Akagi
normally had twelve officers and two guards in her control center, but Kato had cut his crew to the bone, evacuating all but the most essential personnel. That left Tanaka and the communications officer the only others there.

His face was twisted into an angry scowl as he stared at the display, watching the enemy move closer. Kato was a veteran of the Third Frontier War, and he’d fought hard in that conflict. He’d lost good friends too. But that war had paled next to the savagery of this one, and nothing matched the intensity of his hatred for the First Imperium. The soulless robots were brutal and relentless in a way no human enemy could be. And the sacrifices this war had demanded made the devastating losses of the Third Frontier War seem light by comparison.

It only made it worse that he knew his enemies did not feel fear. They didn’t even hate their human enemies, at least not in the way mankind understood the emotion. Their attempts at genocide were logical from their perspective, and not driven by rage or prejudice. They were merely following orders in the truest sense. But Kato hated them—he hated them with all the passions his human emotions could generate. He wanted to kill them, to see them in pain, to watch them overcome with fear as he ignored their pleas for mercy. And the fact that he knew his enemy would never feel the pain or fear he wanted to inflict only drove Kato’s anger. He didn’t know if he believed any of his people would survive, but he was damned sure they were going to dish out some damage.

“All ships are to fire when ready,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. He stared across the almost silent bridge as the comm officer relayed his order to the thin line of vessels under his command. Sixteen damaged ships was a poor force to stand against the massive array of First Imperium power now approaching, but no one expected his forlorn hope to stop the enemy or even damage them significantly. All they had to do was buy a little time, and if they could manage it, even a few minutes, they could increase the escape margin for their comrades—and for themselves if they were able to evacuate in time.

His eyes were fixed on the tactical display. The first enemy line, about fifty ships strong, was almost within missile range. Many of the vessels were damaged from the earlier fighting, and some, Kato hoped, were low on ordnance. Behind the initial wave there were others, over a thousand ships in all, including twenty of the massive new design that was already being called the Colossus. The whole fleet had twenty times the firepower needed to destroy every one of Compton’s ships, but Kato wasn’t worried about the massive waves of strength relentlessly approaching. His target was the first line, and in that fight, he knew his people could inflict a toll before they bugged out.

“All missile launchers…fire. One volley, continuous launches.” He spoke softly, firmly, never taking his eyes off his display.
Akagi
shook as she flushed the missiles from her external racks. Normally, it took at least fifteen minutes to clear the superstructure from the hull to allow the internal launchers to fire. But Kato had already given his orders, and a few seconds after the missiles launched, the racks that had held them in place were jettisoned immediately, without the careful effort to direct the huge chunks of metal away from the ships. It was a dangerous procedure, and
Akagi
shook several times as discarded hunks of hyper-steel slammed into her hull. But Kato knew time was his most precious resource, and a concentrated missile volley had the best chance of overwhelming the enemy’s defenses and scoring some kills.

“Racks cleared, Captain.” Tanaka was staring at his screens as he reported. “We have some hull breeches, lost atmosphere in several sectors, but nothing vital. And no casualties reported.”

Kato sighed softly.
That’s one advantage of having 80% of the crew gone…fewer people around to get sucked out into space when their compartment is ripped open
. Dropping the racks so quickly had been a big risk, but it was looking like a gamble that had paid off. At least for
Akagi
.

“Admiral,
Orleans
reports extensive damage from disengaging external racks. She is streaming air and fluids, sir.”

“Captain Amies is to evacuate immediately.” The stricken ship was no longer capable of contributing seriously to the fight. And that meant Kato couldn’t justify risking even its skeleton crew.