Rebellion of Stars (Starship Blackbeard Book 4) (24 page)

“You mean Lindsell?” Potterman said from the other side of the screen. “More like a rhino, I’d say. Tough hide, sharp horn, ready to charge at a moment’s notice. Maybe we can lure him away.”

“Lindsell is aggressive enough,” Drake agreed. “Question is, does Malthorne have him properly caged, or not? The admiral has to feel invincible with Lindsell guarding his flank—why would he let the cruiser fleet out of its pen?”

“We could try a bluff,” Caites said. “I’ll come in off
Blackbeard
’s starboard. Take a little damage, then feign serious injury. I’ll retreat, as if forced to withdraw. Lindsell can’t resist a wounded enemy—I’ll bet he comes after me. Once I’ve got him in the open,
Richmond
is more than a match for
Churchill
.”

Not really.
Churchill
was the third Punisher-class cruiser, behind
Blackbeard
(formerly HMS
Ajax
)
and
Vigilant
. Caites’s own
Richmond
was an older Aggressor-class cruiser. Slower, less maneuverable, and with weaker armaments. Caites meant captain to captain, of course, but even here, Drake had his doubts that she could outfight her opponent. So would Lindsell, which made it likely that he’d take the bait, suspected trap or no.

“When he takes the bait,” Potterman said, “the rest of us rush through. With
Churchill
out of the way, we’ll knock through the rest of those ships and get at
Dreadnought
.”

It was an entire battle dismissed with the wave of a hand. Drake had no doubt they could get through, but even with Lindsell out of the way, the corvettes, destroyers, frigates, and torpedo boats would put up a hell of a fight.

Still, it was the best plan he had. “We need to keep the rest of Lindsell’s forces between us and
Dreadnought
until the last minute. The battleship has plenty of firepower to hit us from port even while she’s fighting on her starboard side. We can’t face those guns until the rest of the fleet is defeated. Our only hope is to use her own ships as a shield.”

“Then you want me to try to lure Lindsell away?” Caites asked.

“Yes. Let’s do it.”

They ended the call. He brought up Isabel Vargus on
Outlaw
and explained the plan. “How hard can you hit
Dreadnought
on the forecastle?”

“Not hard enough. There’s more tyrillium on that one shield than in my whole fleet. To destroy
Dreadnought
from the front . . . it’s impossible.”

“I don’t need you to destroy her. I only need you blasting at Malthorne’s bridge. I want him rattled. I need you to draw fire.”

“Drawing fire shouldn’t be a problem,” she said dryly. “I’m sure he’s got plenty and to spare.”

“I know what I’m asking. It will be dangerous. I’ll hold you back until we’re past Lindsell. But once I’m through, I’ve got to go after
Dreadnought
with everything I’ve got. That means you, too.”

“What about Rutherford?” Vargus asked. “If he comes in from starboard—”

“No,” he said. “Rutherford can’t lead the charge. Not with one engine.
Vigilant
ventures out from the forts, and she’s dead.”

“His support craft, then.”

“You think those frigates and destroyers can stand a broadside from
Dreadnought
’s guns?” Drake asked.

“Who can? I sure as hell can’t.”

“Then it’s a good thing you won’t be facing the main cannons. Are you ready? We’re ten minutes out.”

Vargus nodded. Her mechanical eye narrowed, then dilated again. “If you’re going to get us killed, let’s try not to do it at Malthorne’s hands. Agreed?”

“That would be an especially humiliating end.” Drake allowed himself a smile. “Agreed. If it comes to it, Lindsell does the killing.”

Vargus grinned. “I like you, James Drake.” She gave a mock salute. “Off to execute my orders. Good luck.”

Drake closed the channel, grateful for her support, but also thinking how much better their chances would be with her sister Catarina at the helm of
Orient Tiger
and her own fleet. But no commander ever went into battle with the forces he
wished
he had on hand.

Meanwhile,
Blackbeard
formed the spearhead, with
Richmond
a few thousand miles off off starboard,
Calypso
off port, and a destroyer above and below. His frigates lingered behind
Richmond
, ready to support her exit once she feigned injury. Ahead loomed Lindsell’s fleet, a shield to
Dreadnought
’s sword.

“Take us in, Ensign,” Drake said.

Capp nodded. She winked at Oglethorpe, then again at Smythe. “Ready, boys? Here we go.”

The subpilot’s eyes now took on a glazed look as her nav chip interfaced with the nav computer. Her fingers moved over the console. The ship gave a subtle move beneath them. It represented a violent shift in movement, Drake knew, so much so that without artificial gravity, they’d be splattered against the far wall.

Blackbeard
hurtled straight at HMS
Churchill
. Drake’s other two cruisers followed. The destroyers swung wide to provide fire support. Two enemy corvettes broke from the pack and pounced. They opened fire, even as the rest of Lindsell’s fleet let loose.

Drake’s forces fired their first volley in response. Soon, the region of space a half million miles out from Hot Barsa was filled with snaking missiles, lumbering torpedoes, and chunks of flying metal the size of small lorries.
Blackbeard
struck a lucky blow on one of the streaking corvettes and forced it to retire.

At the same time, Caites took a hit to her helm.
Richmond
shrugged, maneuvered and launched countermeasures to fight off the rest of the attack. The other corvette came after her, followed by two torpedo boats and supported by Lindsell’s frigates. Caites took her cruiser and veered hard from the battle. She sent a panicked distress signal over the general com. It was a convincing display, and if Drake hadn’t known better, he’d have thought her seriously wounded.

Now Caites was exposed. The corvette could pursue her, harassing, while Lindsell followed in his powerful cruiser. Drake’s forces wouldn’t be able to protect
Richmond
before the enemy caught her. It was the plan, though. A dangerous one, but what they needed.

But Lindsell didn’t bite. Instead, he consolidated his forces, targeted
Blackbeard
, and thundered forward. Drake had been outmaneuvered. The two sides were about to collide, and he had sent one of his cruisers off the battlefield.

Chapter Twenty-five

Tolvern had her small force well prepared by the time the enemy returned, with towers manned and armed, the road hastily mined, and snipers taking position in the surrounding forest. She even had an anti-tank gun, which she wielded herself. She hid in the ditch outside the base as the rumble of lorries reached her ears, and she blasted the first vehicle straight to hell. Two shots from the anti-tank gun. The second hit the fuel tank. Flames shot skyward as she hoisted the gun and raced back within the base’s protective guns.

And then the enemy arrived in bulk. They seized the road and targeted the guard tower. Tolvern had hastily welded on metal plating, but the shields also restricted her ability to return fire. Enemy forces launched mortars and grenades into the compound. Others came through the forest to take the road on the opposite side, driving out Tolvern’s snipers and replacing them with their own.

She held them off the rest of the day, but as soon as it was dark, the enemy crept up and tried to cut through the razor wire. An armored personnel carrier attacked the gates directly before Tolvern chased it off with the anti-tank gun. Somehow, they survived the night.

Three of Pez Rykan’s rebels slipped past the enemy defenses on the second day and slightly bolstered Tolvern’s force. They told her of fighting in the jungle. Pez Rykan was struggling to get her reinforcements, but he had few guns and was short on ammo. It was a terrible irony. Tolvern had all the guns and ammo she needed, but lacked the fighters to shoot them.

The third day, the first of the Hroom prisoners, forced to swallow caplets at gunpoint, began to come around. The antidote worked most quickly on the more recently addicted. Brockett tested them with sugar first, then turned them over to Tolvern to arm. She was up to twenty-five defenders by nightfall.

It wasn’t enough. The constant fire had left her exhausted and rattled. And the heat. The neverending, confounded heat. The Hroom were affected, too. Three of her fighters threw down their weapons and fled the base, running for the jungle, only to be cut down by enemy snipers. At first, Tolvern had cursed the deserters as cowards. Then, she began to envy them. By the fourth day, she was contemplating surrender.

That night, while she was climbing the staircase to take her turn in the guard tower, she glanced up to see the sky glowing. Light flashed high in the atmosphere. Moments later, more flashes, until the entire sky was lit up as if with celestial fireworks. She knew what it meant. Captain Drake had his own fight up there.

She’d tried to raise Fort Gamma or
Vigilant
for the past few days, but the enemy had succeeded in jamming her communication. With the fighting up above, it wasn’t like they could send her armed help, but they might be able to drop a bomb from orbit, or even parachute in arms for Pez Rykan. Maybe. She couldn’t reach her Hroom ally at the moment, either.

Carvalho rose wearily when she entered the guard room, hands on his back and groaning as he straightened himself. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“It’s my turn,” she said.

“There are others who can handle this gun. And the enemy is holding still at the moment.”

She cupped a hand to her ear and dragged out a smile. “Sounds like gunfire to me.”

“Not on this side of the base. You need company?”

“Nah, get yourself some sleep.”

“Oh, I mean to,” he said. “Going to slump in the corner and close my eyes. Not as comfortable as a cot in the barracks, but right now it doesn’t matter much where I sleep. One of those bone diggers could burrow into my skull, and it wouldn’t keep me awake.”

“Then what good will you do here?” she asked. “Go down to the barracks. Go on.”

“Nah.” He turned on the screen of his computer and wiped away the condensation. He used the screen light to get a closer look at her. “You don’t look so well yourself.”

“You wouldn’t expect me to, would you?”

“We are both shellshocked. Here, I will stay with you and keep you company.” He turned off the computer and settled in the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest and disappearing into the shadows.

Tolvern shrugged, although she wasn’t unhappy with the company. She settled in at the gun. During lulls in the fighting, a brave Hroom mechanic had swung around and welded on more blast shielding, and the gun now had a protected slit through which to fire.

The night scope was on. The road outside the base was quiet. The enemy had made a movable barricade of trees, flanked by two burned-out vehicles. They could and often did come over the barrier and attack directly. But for now, there was no sign of movement.

“Tolvern?”

“Thought you were going to sleep.”

“Should we give up?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Take what arms we can and fight our way to the forest. We might escape.”

“We wouldn’t.”

“Surrender, then.”

“Wouldn’t they kill us all anyway?” she pointed out.

“Only if we lose.”

“What do you mean,
if
we lose? That’s what surrender means.”

“If Drake loses, I mean,” Carvalho said. “If he wins, then the planet is ours. He can force the enemy to give up prisoners. But if he does not win, then we are trapped down here anyway.”

“You’re missing the larger strategic picture.” Tolvern swung the gun to check for movement along the ditches. She thought she’d spotted something, but now all seemed still.

“How would I miss it? We are trapped by a superior force. It is only a matter of time.”

“That’s what you’re missing, Carvalho. Time is on
our
side, not the enemy’s. They have to get in here. We have their food and ammo. They have no resupply. And every day we hold them here, the rebellion spreads on the plantation. Every day, new eaters are broken of their addiction. Tens of thousands of doses will go out, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”

“And that means what?” he asked.

“It means if we hold out, a hundred thousand square miles will be lost to the enemy for good. They’ll be forced to flee for the highlands. We’ll join Pez Rykan, feed him guns and ammo, and move on to other plantations. One after another, they’ll all fall.”

In a few short weeks, she’d forced the security forces to fight and had drawn Malthorne and
Dreadnought
to protect the planet’s vast wealth. Without the sugar of Hot Barsa, how would Malthorne maintain his hold on the throne? He had nobles to buy off, a fleet to maintain, and new wars to finance. Even with the lands gained by stealing the crown, Malthorne needed this planet.

She caught movement through the scope. This time, Tolvern was sure. A rustle in the grass in the ditch on the right side of the road, about a hundred yards from the gates.

“We’ve got an infiltrator,” she said. “I’m going to take him out.”

But not until the enemy moved. Couldn’t let them know they’d been spotted while they were protected at the bottom of the ditch. She waited for the grass to move again. Carvalho came by her side. He grabbed the end of a belt of ammo to feed it in should she shoot.

There! A movement in the grass another twenty yards closer to her position. She squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked on with an angry snarl as she let the infiltrator have it. In the darkness, the tracer bullets looked like a glowing white knife, cutting back and forth along the ditch.

A light flashed. Something streaked toward her. It slammed into the guard tower, and she threw herself down. The room rocked with a tremendous boom. A hand-fired missile or grenade. She was rattled but unhurt when she picked herself up again. Carvalho cursed and shook his head.