The Shattered Empire (The Shadow Space Chronicles Book 2) (65 page)

Instead, they fired 'only' eight hundred of the missiles.  The parasite frigates didn't fire their external racks at all.  Their additional fire weight was trivial.  They retained their hundred and eighty shipkillers for when the enemy drew even closer.

The first salvo went in and was met with interceptor missile fire from both Chxor forces, though the fire from the secondary Chxor force died off as they passed out of range, replaced by a volley of shipkillers.  The hundred and twenty missiles seemed paltry in comparison, but Lucius didn't discount the threat.  “Frigate Squadron 214 to intercept.  I don't want anything to get through.”

His gaze went back to the main target and he smiled grimly as the missiles went into final attack mode.  This force was smaller, but he could admit that they fought better.  They stopped over a third of the inbound missiles, many of it through the overlapping defense and what had to be very tight-knit fire control measures. 
A very sharp commander over there,
Lucius thought.

The wave of missiles broke over the enemy formation and it disappeared for a moment under a wave of detonations.  When the hash cleared, over half the enemy cruisers had vanished, replaced by incandescent clouds of gas or broad swaths of debris.  The dreadnoughts positioned to lend their fire had not come off unscathed, either, many of them showed damage in lower power signatures or with collapsed defensive screens.

“Second wave, fire,” Lucius said.  Even as he spoke, though, he saw that the enemy cruisers closed formation and the gaps vanished.  It took a special kind of leader to get his officers to respond with such precision in that kind of maelstrom, Lucius knew.  He made mental note that, assuming he survived, Lucius wanted to meet the Chxor who could manage that.

The second wave washed over the enemy formation and this time there were enough gaps in the jamming coverage and too few of the screening cruisers to take the full impact.  Over a dozen of the enemy dreadnoughts died, battered into lifeless wrecks or simply vaporized like the smaller cruisers.  The remaining dreadnoughts were all damaged and at least two of them staggered out of the formation, either too damaged to maintain a steady course or their commanders panicked.

The range had descended to thirty thousand kilometers.  Lucius was tempted to fire another volley, but as the range closed, he changed his mind.  Power stores were low, and each missile used now was more production capacity they'd have to use later.  And at this range, they would be in energy range before the missiles hit home anyway.

Besides, the enemy formation was a shattered thing.  Without the support of their shielding cruisers it was a fair fight once more.  Lucius updated his target priorities, even as he gave a glance at the overall battle.  Somehow, it looked like he'd pulled it off.

The enemy began to fire their energy weapons, capital class fusion projectors, similar in design and principle to those of the Dreyfus Fleet.  The
Crusader
shuddered under one hit and then another, but the heavy defense screens and heavy armor held, for now.  Also, the enemy's shock and surprise showed, for their initial fire was badly coordinated and poorly aimed.  As
the range dropped, Lucius gave an icy smile, “Engage.”

Each of the Crusaders mounted sixty four fusion projectors turrets, each with four of the capital class fusion projectors.  In addition, each Crusader-class ship mounted an additional sixteen turrets, each with four of the colossal super-capital fusion projectors.  When those sixteen turrets fired, the massive ship shuddered at the energy release, which noticeably decelerated their velocity.  Each of the capital class fusion projectors could rip apart a cruiser with a single hit.  The super-capital projectors, if they hit, could shatter almost any vessel.  All two hundred and fifty-six heavy fusion projectors and sixty-four super-capital fusion projectors aboard the
Crusader
fired at the same time.

The
Crusader'
s two sister ships engaged with their own turrets.  Each of the ship's captains had coordinated their fire and maneuvers, so that when the ships opened up, the total firepower was as evenly spread as possible.

What those fusion projectors did to the Chxor fleet was indescribable.  In only seconds, where almost forty of the five-class dreadnoughts had been, nothing but crippled wrecks and expanding clouds of debris remained.  Distress beacons, vented gas, and the discharge of overloaded power systems sparkled in a cloud that looked both terrible and beautiful.

Ensign Konetsky gave a grim smile, “Engagement complete, sir.”

***

Epilogue

Halcyon Colony, Garris Major System

Contested

November 20, 2403

“Captain,” a gruff voice said from behind Mason, “why don't you come inside and share a drink?”

Mason's head came around sharply as he recognized the voice.  Admiral Collae stood in the doorway of a bar.  More importantly, a half dozen armed men had weapons leveled in his direction from the windows.  Mason's throat went suddenly dry.  He had seen no sign of the ambush, had no warning.  If Admiral Collae had wanted to gun him down in the street, he could have done so without compunction.

“I'm on my way to a meeting with Councilor Penwaithe,” Mason said, with a broad gesture down the street, “I wouldn't want to be late.”

“I assure you,” Admiral Collae said, his voice hard, “this will only take a moment... and that you will make your appointment on time and alive.”  He added the last with a sharp bite and Mason's hands dropped to rest on his pistols.  Admiral Collae cleared his throat and nodded at the aimed weapons.

“Of course, Admiral, how could I refuse such a gracious request?” Mason responded even has he raised his hands in the air.

Admiral Collae gave him a slight smirk and turned away into the building.  Mason walked gingerly up the steps, careful not to make any sudden moves.  At the top of the steps, one man held out his hand.  Mason grimaced a bit as he slowly unbuckled his gun-belt and passed it over.  The man gave him a nod and Mason followed the Admiral inside.

The building was clearly one of the elite social clubs on Halcyon, a number of men in fine suits sat at various tables and booths, while waiters in uniforms brought them drinks as they sat in quiet conversation.  Either the sight of a bare-chested man in leather pants walking next to a Colonial Republic officer wasn't particularly unusual here or everyone had a lot more respect for privacy than most people.

Or else they're too terrified to even look,
Mason thought.  He shot a glance at Admiral Collae out of the corner of his eye.  The rogue Colonial Republic Admiral showed no expression on his pitted, craggy face.  His dark eyes stared forward as they walked, almost as if he were preparing himself to do something unpleasant. 

Admiral Collae led the way into a private room at the back.  A black man, tall and thin, sat the the room's table.  He wore a finely tailored suit, one whose simplicity probably meant it cost more than a vehicle.  Admiral Collae spoke, his harsh voice pitched low, almost respectfully, “Mister Penwaithe, this is him.”

Penwaithe?
Mason thought.  He looked again over at Admiral Collae, but his stone-like face showed no emotion.

“Ah, Captain King, good to meet you... though I must admit, your taste in clothing is atrocious,” the tall man stood and extended a hand.  “I am Spencer Penwaithe.”

Mason gave him a broad smile and took his hand, just as the words fully penetrated.  He felt his smile congeal on his face.  It took him a moment to find words to speak, “Well, I'm not exactly advertising my presence.  A costume like this makes it less likely that someone will look past it and see who I am.”  There was no point in denial, not with Admiral Collae present.  Spencer Penwaithe had a firm, crisp handshake.

“I must admit to quite a bit of fascination with your career for many years,” Spencer Penwaithe said.  “I'm such a fan of the old pirates, yourself and Thomas Kaid especially.  This little adventure happening here is the product of a lifelong dream... privateers striking blows against our enemies, striking fear into their hearts.  The fact that you are here is just the icing on the cake, as it were.”  His words were light, almost whimsical, but Mason didn't miss the darkness in the other man's eyes.  He was a man who spoke words with no meaning, just to see the effect they would have on someone.

“Well,” Mason said, “I'm glad to oblige.  Now, I'd love to stay, but I'm afraid I have a meeting to attend with your daughter-in-law.”  Mason made the guess off hand.  From the flash of anger in the other man's eyes, he'd guessed right. 
Which means not only is she a relation,
he thought,
but one he doesn't approve of...

“I'm afraid Jessica will have some unexpected business come up, by the time she attends to that, you should be there, ready to speak with her,” Spencer Penwaithe said.  He gestured at the seat across from him.  Mason took it with a slight smile.  Admiral Collae took the third chair, next to Spencer Penwaithe.  The fact that this other man, with no apparent political position, could affect the schedule of the Councilor without her knowledge was a bad sign.  Mason wasn't certain what was going on.  Admiral Collae was a major player, he had entire systems resources to call upon.  His political network and ties made him far above the minor politics of this backwater colony.  He should not be at the beck and call of this unknown man.

“Drink?” Spencer asked.  A moment later, one of the waiters appeared at Mason's elbow.  Mason took the small tumbler and took a sip.  It was very good, very expensive, brandy.  “Well, you've made quite an impression here at Halcyon, do you know?” Spencer Penwaithe said.  “Captain Stavros Heraklion is almost a heroic figure, ironic, don't you think?  On top of that, I understand Admiral Mannetti is quite taken with you.  Quite marvelous that.”

“Oh?” Mason asked.

“Yes, much better than my original plan,” Spencer Penwaithe said.  He looked over at Admiral Collae, “I must admit, I was a bit... disappointed when the Admiral failed to bring you in as a direct foil to Admiral Mannetti.  But this works ever so much better.  You've earned the loyalty of the government for your
selfless
actions at Wenceslaus.  You've earned Admiral Mannetti's affection and trust in the doing... and you're under a false persona so no one even realizes your full capabilities.”

“That is interesting,” Mason said.  He looked between the two men, “What exactly is the purpose of this interview?”

Spencer Penwaithe gave a broad smile, “Well, to get to know you, Tommy King.  As I said, I was quite the fan.  But, as with many people, there comes a time when they must try to surpass their heroes achievements.  So, it is here.  You work for me, Captain King.  Do so and I can reward you very well.  Fail to do so...” he looked over at Admiral Collae “... well, lets just say that I have some contingencies.”

“What's the purpose?” Mason demanded.  “All this cloak and dagger efforts is wearing.  You have me here presumably as a foil to Admiral Mannetti.  Yet at the same time, it seems you have Admiral Collae's resources to call upon.”  Mason shook his head, “You don't need me to deal with Mannetti, you could do it yourself.”

“I could, if that were my only goal,” Spencer Penwaithe said.  “And this is a game with many rules.  What contest would it be if our moves were all open and explained?”  His smile was savage, “No, you'll get no answers... just rest assured that if you betray me, everyone you know and care about will die... from those monks in their monastery to your current companions.”  He waited and Mason gave him a tight-lipped nod.  The message was received.  “Admiral Mannetti is not acting alone, Captain King.  Just as Admiral Collae acts in my interests, she acts in the interests of her master.”  His words oddly echoed Lucretta Mannetti's talk of Empire...with her as the consort. 
Something big is going on here,
Mason thought,
something far bigger than Halcyon.

Spencer Penwaithe's dark eyes peered at Mason, as if he could read his thoughts.  Mason shot a glance at Admiral Collae and remembered the man's ties to Mistress Blanc, a psychic.  He thought, resolutely, about the controls for the
Kraken.

“Well, we've had an excellent discussion,” Spencer Penwaithe said.  “We should really do this again sometime.”  He waved a hand, “You should go, I'd hate for you to be late with that very important meeting with Councilor Penwaithe.”

Mason stood and gave the other man a nod.  Admiral Collae stood, as well, to escort him out, Mason assumed.  Mason had a lot to think about and he would have little free time to do it.  The revelations from this other man had overturned a lot of his own assumptions.  Mason wasn't really certain where that left him.

“Oh, and congratulations, Commodore,” Spencer said with another toothy smile.  “I understand that the good Councilor will offer you the rank for your service at Wenceslaus.  You'll have your own raider squadron.  Isn't that quite convenient?”

Mason gave a slight, humorless smile in return.  He turned away without another word, the silent presence of Admiral Collae at his back.  As they walked back through the club, Mason felt like the ground had shifted underneath him.  So many of his assumptions had been proven wrong... and worse, it seemed as if he'd been reduced in value to that of a pawn.  The problem with the analogy was that Spencer Penwaithe seemed like the type of strategist who liked to sacrifice pawns.

“Captain, one last thing,” Admiral Collae said as they reached the doorway, his harsh voice low.

“Yes?” Mason asked.

“You killed my nephew,” Admiral Collae said.  His craggy face showed just the slightest edge of anger.  “I'm not about to forgive that.  However, I will put it aside, knowing the stakes.  You understand?”  Mason nodded slowly.  Admiral Collae wouldn't risk this plan, whatever it was, over the death of his nephew.  Not yet, anyway.  It meant that Mason wouldn't need to watch his back for a dagger over that, even if he did have to watch his back with the man's mysterious superior.

“Good,” Admiral Collae said.  “Next time, however, take my offer, rather than bumbling in not knowing what's going on.”  He gave Mason a final nod and turned away.

***

Garret Penwaithe looked up from his desk at a rap on his quarter's hatch.  Outside the open door was Abigail.  The young woman looked tired, Garret saw.  “Come in,” Garret said.

She came in and stood, uncertainly. Garret waited a long moment, “Something wrong?” Garret asked.

Abigail bit her lip, “Sir...”  She looked down at the deck.  “I'm not sure I'm cut out for this.”

Garret felt his eyebrows go up in surprise.  From what he'd heard from Heller, Abigail had performed very well in the last battle.  Better, in fact, than some of their more experienced personnel.  “What?”

“I thought I could do this, but I'm not sure anymore,” Abigail said.  “I just don't know if what we're doing is
right
.”  She looked up and met his eyes, “That pirate, Captain Heraklion, he killed those carriers, all those people.”  She took a deep breath.  “I had bodies... pieces of bodies on my visual screens.  They didn't even have ship suits on, some of them.”

Garret shook his head and he stood.  “Abigail... war is a nasty business.  That said, yes, it was a bad fight.  We killed a lot of people.”  His Hammers had actually killed more fighters than Captain Stavros's crew.  Then they had engaged the pair of destroyers that had attempted to break away from the station.  How many people they'd killed was not something that Garret really wanted to think about himself.  “I'm afraid that is part of war, of combat.”

“I knew that...” Abigail said, “But I didn't realize how it would feel.”

“You've had nightmares?” Garret asked.  “Where you see the bodies?  Worse, where the faces of your family and friends are on those cold, still bodies?”  She nodded slowly.  “Those ease, a bit, those nightmares.  It's not... it never is easy.  You don't want to become someone for whom killing is easy.”  Garret sighed, “If you need someone to talk with, absolutely talk to me.  I've been there.”

“Do the nightmares ever go away?” Abigail asked.

“No,” Garret said softly.  “But you learn to live with them.  And you find that there are some things worse than nightmares... like knowing your friends will face that without you... or that no one else will be there to stand between your family and friends if you won't.”

Abigail nodded slowly.  She looked a little less uncertain.  “Thank you sir.”

Garret nodded and she turned away.  She stopped again at the doorway.  “Sir, would you have some time available tonight, maybe?  To talk a bit more?”

“Sure,” Garret said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Abigail said, “I'll see you tonight at eight!”

As she hurried out, Garret felt his stomach sink a bit as he realized just how those words could be interpreted.  He shook his head though. 
Just two combat vets talking,
Garret thought,
nothing improper about it at all.

***

Danar System

(status unknown)

November 20, 2403

Fleet Commander Krxil didn't know how the battle had ended, though he strongly suspected, given his current state, that it had not ended favorably.  His vessel was crippled, really no more than a gutted wreck.  Both of its power plants were offline.  He had neither power, nor environmental systems, and three quarters of his crew were either dead or dying.  The ship's commander was included in that number.

He suspected that his ship had come off lucky, for all of that.  Before the final hit that had knocked them out of the fight, Krxil had seen the ships in his force die one after the other as they received the full attention of the enemy's dreadful firepower.  The terrible energy weapons had ripped the damaged dreadnoughts apart with terrible efficiency. 
No wonder they sent just the three ships to take the system,
Krxil thought.