The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (49 page)

“It’s a slaughter out there,” said Mister Mason, who stood not far away.

Raidan nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The thoughts that filled his head all came from his imagination, yet they haunted him. Tormented him, even. He imagined men and women sprinting through corridors, struggling to fight fires burning everywhere, then vicious, violent death as debris sliced off limbs, explosions burned skin, and the collapsing innards of a starship crushed people, killing them with blunt force trauma…

That is literally happening right now
, he thought,
opening his eyes again. And here I am just watching it. Like having a family picnic next to a battlefield
.

“Accelerate the ship,” he said, quite suddenly. “All thrusters fire.”

“Course and heading, sir?” asked Mister Watson.

“Dead ahead,” said Raidan. “Hold straight and true.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Engaging thrusters. All thrusters engaged.”

The distant lights, the flashes, the instantly vanishing explosions, all of it continued, like a parade of sparks meant for his entertainment, yet he could not sit idly by and watch it, knowing what it truly was.

“Sir, if we continue on this heading, we will be drawn into the battle,” said Mister Watson.

Raidan gave the man a look as if to say,
it’s obvious
.

“Are you certain that’s what you want?” asked Mister Mason.

“Stay on course, Mister Watson. Mister Demir, ready the guns and clear us for action, if you would please,” said Raidan.

“Aye, sir,” both his men acknowledged. A second later, the klaxon sounded and the emergency lights sprang on.

“As for you, Mister Watson,” said Raidan. “I suggest you find a seat and strap in.”

“Attention all decks. Attention all decks,” said Mister Demir loudly into his headset. “All hands, clear for action! I repeat, all hands, clear for action!”

Of course, the alarms going off would have been signal enough to the lower decks that they would already be scrambling for General Quarters, but it never hurt to use extra measures. Not in Raidan’s view. Besides, he always believed the call to “clear for action” had a way of making a person’s hair stand up, giving them that extra jolt of urgency that might be the sliver of difference between a won fight and a lost one.

“Weapons range achieved, sir,” said Mister Demir.

“Full stop,” said Raidan.

“Answering full stop,” replied Mister Watson.

“To all gunnery crews and other weapons operators,” said Raidan, “Fire at will!”

“Yes, sir,” said Mister Demir, as he and his staff sent the order below to the many, many weapons crews on the
Harbinger
.

“And how many guns shall we hold in reserve, for missile interception?” asked Mister Watson, who had actually gone and done as Raidan had advised and was now seated in the XO’s chair, all strapped in.

“Um, let me think,” said Raidan. “None.”

“None, sir?” asked Mister Demir.

“Captain,” said Mister Watson, “Don’t you think it would be wise to at least hold a few guns in reserve, just in case—”

Raidan interrupted him. “Mister Ivanov, how far away, in relative terms, are we from the battle?”

“We answered a full stop just barely within weapons range so…I guess I would say, reasonably far from the battle itself, more like a fringe participant,” said Mister Ivanov. “Although I could tell you the exact distance in technical terms quite easily.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Raidan. “Just tell us, in your expert opinion, what do you suppose the probability is that, from this position, a warship involved in the battle ahead would select this ship as a target, lock a seeker missile onto it, and then fire, hoping that somehow, while blasting across that vast distance, none of the defending ships, including the one targeted, by some miracle, wouldn’t intercept it?”

“Well,” said Mister Ivanov. “That sounds like a somewhat loaded question, but I think what you want me to say is that chances are small. So, I’ll go with that. Chances are very small that we will be a target for missiles at our present position.”

“There you go,” said Raidan. “Hence, no reserve guns.”

“I still disagree with your decision, sir,” said Mister Watson.

“Well, that is your privilege,” said Raidan, “To be as wrong as you want to as often as you want to, but it makes no difference to me whatsoever.”

“Sir, if you consider—”

Raidan interrupted him. “A bup, bup, bup,” he said, silencing him. “The fact is, I want every gun and every missile launcher on this ship completely engaged and rendering those brave defenders out there as much assistance as we possibly can!”

Mister Watson, finally getting the clue, did not bring up the subject again.

Despite all of his efforts, it didn’t last long, just as he’d anticipated. The carnage reached its apex, and all the flashes and explosions out the window were far too numerous to keep track of, or even make sense of.

What Raidan did notice, however, was that the majority of the enemy force—that was in position to do so—all concentrated their beam weapons on the ISS
Victory
. Which was being struck so frequently, and from so many angles, by so many ships, that its shields seemed simply to be constantly alight. Almost like there was a permanently glowing orb of energy that surrounded the ship.

That can’t be good
, thought Raidan, as he watched. Knowing that shields under that much constant duress, even the most powerful shields in the galaxy, could not withstand that kind of attack for long.

“Focus fire on the ships attacking the ISS
Victory
,” said Raidan, unsure what else he could do to help, but unable to think of anything. One by one, the
Harbinger
’s powerful guns ripped apart several of the smaller ships firing on the
Victory,
but the intensity of the enemy’s attack did not let up. And then, with a blink, the shield orb disappeared; the crew, no doubt, unable to reroute any more power into the shields. Meanwhile, the beam weapon strikes did not cease. Only now, instead of being deflected by a shield of energy, they struck thick layers of armor, burning and melting them.

“Move the ship!” said Raidan, realizing what was about to happen. He had fully expected it, and yet, somehow, he still could not believe it was happening. “Move the ship now, hurry!”

“Where, sir?” asked Mister Watson.

“Full reverse!” said Raidan. “As fast as you can!”

“Aye, sir. Answering full reverse.”

They created some distance, so that, when the ISS
Victory
’s formidable hull finally did give way under the constant duress, and the ship exploded, throwing tremendous amounts of debris in all directions at high velocity, none of the bits of what had been the greatest starship ever made struck the
Harbinger
.

Seeing the
Victory
finally go, after having fought for so long and enduring so much, was an emotional experience, not to mention a stunning visual phenomenon. The ship had been taking a beating, and continuing to take it and take it and, just when you thought it was done for, it took some more…somehow continuing to endure. Even when the shields were gone. Even when the armor plating was gone. Hell, even when it was down to the hull, somehow that still took the abuse like the damned vessel was simply invincible. But Raidan had understood what was happening and knew it was only a matter time, probably mere seconds, and that was why he’d ordered the retreat.

When the
Victory
did finally give in and explode, it was a moment of beauty and despair. About a million things happened, all at once, all on a colossal scale, and all within what felt like the fraction of an instant.

The ship exploded, suddenly ripped apart, sending pieces of itself in all directions at very high speed. Meanwhile, there was a
massive
flash as the enormous ship’s atmosphere burned in an instant. Then, like some kind of chain reaction, force and shrapnel from the ISS
Victory
caused the nearest five warships, two friendly and three foes, to also explode.

And then, only after those few seconds had passed, did the emotional part sink in. And Raidan knew it really was over.
Oh, God
, what now?
he thought
. Even though the answer was perfectly clear.

The surviving defense ships immediately scrambled in all directions, just like he’d predicted, some of them just to escape the range of fire, others to escape the system altogether. Meanwhile, the Dread Fleet continued onward, pushing through any defenders that lagged behind, eviscerating them immediately, seeming not even to be bothered in the slightest.

The ships will orbit the planet now
, thought Raidan,
and, for the next few days, they will bomb Capital World until there is nothing left of it
.

Meanwhile, the
Harbinger
continued to move away, creating more distance between it and the Dread Fleet, which other than a whole lot of scattered defenders, was now completely unopposed.

Then, the Dread Fleet did something that Raidan did not expect. It came to a complete stop; that was the first clue that something odd was happening. He could tell by watching the tactical display.

“Turn the ship around,” said Raidan, a sense of foreboding made even his bones seem to shiver. “Turn us toward the Dread Fleet.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Mister Watson. “Was that
toward
the fleet, that you said?”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Raidan. “
Toward
the fleet.”

“As you say,” said a very confused sounding Mister Watson.

“Then maneuver us so we could move in between the Dread Fleet and the planet,” said Raidan, looking intensely at the tactical display.

“All right…” said Mister Watson. “This isn’t going to be some kind of one-ship suicide attack against the entire fleet is it? Because I’m down for heroism and all, but not like that.”

Raidan tuned him out. He was too intensely focused on the tactical display. He watched as the Dread Fleet’s formation changed. It abandoned its wedge shape by maneuvering the forward most ships, but, rather than bringing them closer to the planet, such as to enter orbit around it and begin their bombing campaign, they moved the forward-most ships—which had been some of their most powerful dreadnoughts—to the rear of the formation.

“What the hell…” Raidan muttered quietly to himself. He couldn’t figure out what they were doing, but he was certain, whatever it was, was not good. And then he saw some of the lights from the center begin to move forward, very, very slowly. Away from the formation and toward the planet, at a pace so sluggish he could scarcely tell they were moving at all on the tactical display.

Raidan felt a sinking feeling inside once he had a guess as to what they were.
Oh, please let me be wrong. Please let me be wrong
, he thought.

“Mister Ivanov,” said Raidan. “There appear to be several ships, a squadron at minimum, that have emerged from the center of the Dread Fleet’s formation. These ships are now heading toward the planet; the rest of the formation appears not to be following them. Please conduct a scan of these ships and then display an image for me.”

“At once, sir,” said Mister Ivanov. Then, after a few seconds, he announced that the scan was complete and the image ready for display.

“Go ahead and display it on the central main viewer,” said Raidan, feeling his hands get clammy and his heart race. Hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t going to be a picture of what he feared most.

And then the image appeared.

“Mister Demir, what the hell is that?” asked Mister Watson.

“I have no clue, sir,” said Mister Demir. “I’ve been in defense a long time and I’ve never seen anything that looks like that.”

Raidan remained silent. He dropped his head into his hands and thought,
of course. It had to be. Only the Dread Fleet would dig up and use an old warship like that
.

“It looks a bit like a snail, I think,” said Mister Gates. “If you turn it about thirty degrees and then look at it.”

What to do, what to do
, thought Raidan, realizing that if he was going to try anything, his effort would probably be futile and would unquestioningly be fatal. Not just for him, and all the life on his ship, but anyone and everyone he convinced to assist him. On the other hand, he couldn’t simply sit idly by and watch, knowing what he did, and understanding all too well what was about to happen—if he didn’t somehow stop it.

My blood for the queen
. The words came unwilling to his mind, but then seemed to just get stuck there.
My blood for the queen. My blood for the queen. Damn you, Sir Arkwright, even in death you annoy me
, thought Raidan. But it proved to be the thing that tipped him over the edge, ending his indecision. He looked up, back up at
it
, which was still on full display.