The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (37 page)

Hearing him say that, and seem to mean it, caused a cheer to resound throughout the pod, as now the soldiers looked to him eagerly, waiting to hear whatever ingenious idea he’d come up with that would get them all home, somehow. Whether it was to Aleator, or back inside the Empire, there was no mistaking the fact that they would need to traverse a tremendous distance. That required a starship, not a pod. And, whatever starship they had, needed to either have state-of-the art stealth capabilities, or else enough weapons and armor that they could bully their way back home, by force, if necessary.

It just so happened that Calvin had come up with an idea, a truly mad idea, but one that
maybe
, if everything went perfectly right, just might
possibly
get them home.

“I have an idea,” he announced, and again his words were answered by a cheer. No doubt these soldiers had become as sick of this damned pod as he had. Well, if his idea worked, they would soon be rid of it. And when that happened, it would truly be a long time before Calvin ever missed the damn thing.

“The only problem with my idea is, it might not work, it’s dangerous, and I’ve really only figured out the initial details,” he said. “But,” he looked from one side of the pod all the way to the other and then continued, “Who’s up for doing something utterly and completely mad?”

CHAPTER 14

Raidan had ordered the
Harbinger
into a position near the formation’s front, but not so near as to draw unnecessary fire. He wanted to have all of his weapons in range of the forward-most enemy warships, but did not wish to take excessive flak, especially not so soon into the battle. He had also ordered his flotilla, all the ships that remained loyal to the Organization, to form up just behind and below the
Harbinger
; he wanted the
Harbinger
to be the paramount ship in their starship group because it could withstand attack far greater than any other vessel belonging to the Organization.

After Sir Arkwright had given the order to clear for action and then the defense force had charged headlong into the enemy’s formation, needing to get within attack range for the missiles and guns to be effective, the battle had transformed into a massive firestorm of starships ripping one another apart, and Raidan could only begin to guess at the number of lives lost. Even during the initial charge, many of the defense warships had been destroyed, taking all hands with them. And, from that point on, it had seemed only to get bloodier and worse.

The
Harbinger
, and its flotilla of ships, had exchanged fire with the enemy from a position that had, so far, proven to be of very little interest to the enemy, and so they had not yet had to endure much fire returned at them. It seemed odd to Raidan that that would be so, the enemy had brought enough ships, why not simply converge entirely upon the defensive formation and eradicate it completely, sighting ship to ship? Sure, there would be more casualties taken by such an approach but, as Raidan glanced at the tactical display and saw, once again, how vastly outnumbered the green and blue lights were by the cluster of red ones, he figured the Dread Fleet had plenty of vessels to spare. What did a few more casualties mean?

But, whoever was in command of the Dread Fleet had proven him or herself to be more patient, careful, and tactically minded than Raidan had originally suspected. That meant two things: First, the battle would drag on longer than he had expected, as the enemy carefully carved into the defensive formation, little by little, poking holes in it with surgical precision until entire portions of the defensive formation began to collapse inwardly. And, secondly, it meant that whomever they were up against was an experienced battle commander and not some simple bloodthirsty marauders.

No wonder the Dread Fleet failed to fall for the vanguard’s ploy, he thought. These are no mere thugs we are dealing with.
These are trained and tested warship crews, I’d stake all my Q on it
.

As the battle progressed, and the defenders boldly held their position, Raidan made certain the
Harbinger
did its share and he spent the time, unsure how many minutes had passed, eliminating one enemy vessel after another. At first, Raidan had tried to keep a kill count, but, after picking off so many of the weakest enemy ships—destroyers, sloops, and even the occasional frigate—the exercise had grown tedious, and so he’d abandoned it.

Naturally, he demanded from his officers that they keep him constantly appraised of the ship’s status, as well as any notable change in the enemy’s formation, position, or tactics.

After the fighting had gone on for some while, Mister Ivanov had done exactly that. Informing him right away that the defense formation had rapidly begun to collapse along the portside flank of the ISS
Victory
, which brazenly had chosen, so far anyway, to remain at the forefront of the battle.

Raidan had sprinted then, all the way to the Ops station, where he saw for himself, in much greater detail than the tactical display provided, images of the defense force charged with holding that position being swiftly overpowered. Many of the ships were destroyed in quick succession, like they had no armor at all, while others, beaten and battered, were in flight, attempting to maneuver deeper inside the safety of the defensive formation. This left the ISS
Victory
dangerously exposed. If the command ship was lost, Raidan expected many of the Fleet Admirals to begin to rout as soon as their forces began to collapse. No matter how annoying Sir Arkwright was, his presence in the battle, along with the sight of his massive warship, was likely to help keep the various admirals and starship commanders in line and engaged against the enemy, in the most organized—and therefore effective—way possible.

That had led to some discussion between his XO and himself about what to do about this situation. At minimum, Raidan had commanded his Comms staff to inform the crew of the
Victory
that their ship had become exposed along its portside flank, even though they had both the means and the staff to see that for themselves; Raidan needed to know for certain that they had noticed. After that, he and Mister Mason had an exchange about whether or not to maneuver the
Harbinger
, and the rest of the Organization’s flotilla, to those exact coordinates, and retake—or attempt to retake—the position where the defensive formation had most collapsed.

Ultimately, Raidan decided not to, instead urging other warship groups and nearby admirals to assume the responsibility. Alone, he and his ships, despite the tremendous power of the
Harbinger
, would not stand a chance against the enemy force that seemed determined to occupy that position. Because, Raidan had reasoned, the enemy would send a force strong enough to defeat and destroy the ISS
Victory
, along with any companion ships that were nearby it; if the assaulting force could accomplish such a feat as that, then turning the
Harbinger
and the rest of Raidan’s flotilla into space dust would prove as easy as swatting a fly.

Mister Mason had disagreed with him, he had argued that it was their duty to at least try and shore up that position, even if they failed. Because, he had been quick to point out, if the defense force did not retake it, and manage to hold it, the rest of the formation was compromised, and it was only a matter of time before it collapsed entirely—especially if they began such an assault by destroying the ISS
Victory
which, to many of the starship commanders, Raidan knew, represented hope itself. If the
Victory
were destroyed, the formation would quickly fall into chaotic disarray; Raidan did not disagree, and, should that happen, the battle would essentially be over.

As it had turned out, while they were having this discussion and attempting to reach a decision, the admirals they contacted gave excuses for why they were too preoccupied with their own orders and battles to come to the rescue of the collapsed part of the formation, one admiral—who must have thought very similarly to Mister Mason—had chosen to do exactly that. It was Fleet Admiral Ravinder, aboard the ISS
Hyperion
, his men had informed him. And, moving alongside the beautiful alpha-class dreadnought was the most unprepared, battle-scarred, wreck of a squadron that Raidan had ever seen. In fact, the thirty-six warships, although each a capital ship in its own right, seemed as a collection to represent every possible state of disrepair.

If they are seriously going to try and stand against the enemy with that
, thought Raidan,
then they are merely kindling before a raging fire.

Still, he had to admire their courage for even attempting such a thing. Certainly he hadn’t found the force of will to go and do it himself with his resources. And his flotilla, including the
Harbinger
, easily overmatched Ravinder’s rag-tag starship group. And yet it was Ravinder and not Raidan, nor anyone else, who attempted to push the enemy back, and who successfully—at least for a time—disrupted the attempted assault against the ISS
Victory
.

All of that while fighting in direct opposition with an adversary that was stronger, more numerous, and otherwise superior in every way. And, somehow, the group of them, miraculously, managed to stand their ground long enough for help to arrive—which came in the form of some forty-five capital ships diverted away from the Second Fleet. Although, by the time those ships had arrived, only the powerful
Hyperion
remained. Each of the others, all that had belonged to Fleet Admiral Ravinder, and therefore must have been the remains of the Third Fleet, had fallen. Raidan’s only surprise had been how effective the weakened warships had been, and how long they had managed to last before meeting their inevitable demise.

So that’s that for the Third Fleet
, he’d thought, the force that had been bold enough to accept assignment as vanguard for the defense. Now, only part way into the battle, the noble and courageous Third Fleet had, aside from the
Hyperion
, experienced one-hundred percent casualties. He’d then shaken his head in disbelief.

At the arrival of forty-five capital ships to hold the fragile position, not to mention the beaten but stubborn
Hyperion
, which also remained there, Mister Mason had again attempted to persuade Raidan to take the
Harbinger
and all of their forces and join those forty-six ships. In fact, considering how important it was to the defense of the system that the flank not be allowed to collapse, Mister Mason had very nearly persuaded him to go and do just that. But not quite. Ultimately, what had prevailed had been Raidan’s instinctive suspicion that, although forty-five capital ships and one dreadnought appeared to be a rather powerful force, it would prove unequal to the task of repelling the force that, he’d been quite sure the Dread Fleet was at that same time preparing to strike them with. He was just as certain that, even with the seemingly powerful augmentation of the defense of that position by adding the
Harbinger
and all the remaining ships of the Organization to the forty-six vessels already there, it still seemed extremely likely, practically a foregone conclusion, that their force, even combined together, would be unable to withstand what the Dread Fleet’s commander was planning to hit them with.

It had not taken long for Raidan’s suspicions to be confirmed. An attack force emerged from the safety of the tight phalanx formation and converged upon Ravinder’s dreadnought, along with the forty-five other defenders. Raidan had watched the tactical display, feeling a kind of sickness in his stomach, when he saw just how many red lights had changed position in order to engage the forty-six blue lights. Then, with a sensation that felt almost like physical pain, he watched as, one by one, in rapid succession, the blue lights began to flicker and disappear.

In fairness, many of the red lights did too, indicating that the hammer the Dread Fleet had used to against strike the defensive formation in its weakest spot had, itself, taken substantial casualties in the effort.

Some of the blue lights moved, in obvious retreat.
Cowards
, thought Raidan. And, when a few of them also flickered out, he had felt almost glad about it. To him, such an action, was so similar to desertion there wasn’t really any distinction between them.

Soon the number of blue lights holding that position had been reduced to eight. And then fewer still. By the time only one remained—which Raidan did not have to ask to feel certain it was the
Hyperion
—the last, lonely blue light began to move away from all the many red lights that had been part of the assault. Then, before Raidan or anyone else could do anything about it, or try to, the final blue light flickered and went out.

Raidan had bowed his head then, respectfully. Thinking,
Fleet Admiral Ravinder had as much courage as any man I’ve ever met, and certainly far more than most. Rest in peace, you, and all who fell beside you
. Of course, he did not believe that any supernatural mind-reader had heard his thought, nor that, even if one did, that such a creature should care even a little about what he wanted. But the thought had given him some small measure of peace and, in a way, reminded him that he too would likely share Ravinder’s same fate, so long as he continued to oppose the Dread Fleet.

The battle had continued, with Raidan issuing commands to his crew, and to the starships of his flotilla, to move and fight, move and fight, and eventually move again, always taking the chance to pick off any enemy warship that had fallen out of formation, or any squadron small enough that his force could defeat it. The whole time doubting that he was managing to make much of a difference; the Dread Fleet was so enormous that the loss of a few ships, or even a few squadrons, would likely be inconsequential. Unlike Raidan’s flotilla, which now, in the process of slaughtering the enemy, had cost them some of their own. Each time a ship of the flotilla was lost, Raidan closed his eyes for a moment, out of respect for their sacrifice.

It was during one of these brief moments of silence that his Ops chief spoke up, urgently drawing his attention to a major change in the configuration of the ongoing battle.

“Sir,” said Mister Ivanov. “Look at this!”

Raidan rushed to the Ops center and Mister Ivanov immediately began pointing things out. “You see here,” he said, indicating a part of the defensive formation that was bowed inward, as if it has begun to collapse. The space the defense force had once occupied was now clearly filled with a large force of enemies. Even though he could see the group in great detail, there were far too many to count, and they were far too bunched up.