The Valhalla Call (Warrior's Wings) (15 page)

The ships were former colony ships, huge empty flying storehouses that hadn’t been established as the Counterweight to a tether anywhere. They weren’t as tough as a military ship, or as fast, but they were the fastest civilian ships in human-controlled space by a
huge
margin.

Now Nadine Brooke found herself idly admiring the way they’d redone the interior of the old Explorer ship she was walking through, noting that it couldn’t have been an easy job.

“Ah, Admiral Brooke, yes?”

She glanced up, smiling as she recognized the man walking toward her. “Captain Petronov. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, finally.”

“Yes, in that we are in agreement. So, what do you think of my Socrates?”

“A fine ship, Captain. I’m impressed with some of the refits you managed.”

“Well, as you know, SOLCOM could not afford us much aid beyond technical help with the new gravity manipulation device,” Alexi Petronov said with a slight shrug. “We have to work out where things would have to be for ourselves. I think it works.”

“It certainly seems to,” she agreed. “I admire the design work you’ve done in here. It’s much more organic than the Terra Class.”

“Well, we are not ship of war. We will never
be
ship of war,” Alexi said with a slightly rueful smile, “even if we sometimes carry weapons and fight in battles, yes?” He laughed. “We took care for safety and security, of course, but is much more open design. We can load very large things in here.”

“So I see.”

He wasn’t kidding, she could tell that just from looking around. They were standing on a platform built within the hull of the Socrates, and out beyond the platform was a cavernous space that looked large enough to park the Legendary in.

It wasn’t that large, of course; it just looked it from where she was standing.

“We have retractable gantry cranes in place, so we can put in new decks as needed. Lots of room for supplies, people, whatever we need,” Alexi told her, sounding deservedly proud of his ship.

She didn’t blame him at all. The view of the interior of the newly refitted Socrates easily matched and potentially rivaled the view from the observation decks of the Legendary. The Russians had done incredible work.

“I’m pleased to have you along on this one, Captain Petronov.”

“Ah.” He smiled a little sadly. “Is bad business, but I am honored to sail with you, Admiral.”

*****

SOLCOM HQ

Earth Orbit

“Admiral Brooke has acknowledged her orders.”

“Of that there was never a doubt. I merely said that we shouldn’t send her without a full intelligence brief.”

“The device is top secret for a reason, Maxwell.”

“Yes, and I agree with all of those reasons, but the news coming out of Hayden is disturbing. If those numbers are right, we stand to lose everything. TF-7, TF-5, Hayden…eventually, we lose Earth.”

“I do not see how briefing the admiral will substantively improve her odds…”

“We don’t just brief her, we give her access to the device. To what we’ve learned. Everything may depend on this woman’s decisions, people. We can’t hold back.”

“Perhaps. A vote, gentlemen? Ladies?”

*****

USV Legendary

The shuttle deck of the Legendary was a shockingly large place, but as Sorilla stepped off the shuttle and onto the deck of the warship, she shook her head.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“What’s that, Lieutenant?”

“Sorry, Commander, I was just thinking that this isn’t going to work for training the new machines,” she said wearily. “Are there any larger decks available?”

“I’m afraid not, but I believe we have a pair of storage rooms that may work.”

“I hope so,” Sorilla said, “otherwise we’re going to have a lot of holes punched in the walls.”

Commander Sear grimaced at that bit of imagery and made a note to ensure that everything breakable, hell just plain everything, was moved out of their training areas.

“Have you been on a Terra Class ship before?” he asked as the woman at his side casually slung her rather large duffle over her shoulder with ease that unnerved him.

He had offered to help her with it while loading and had barely been able to heft the large canvas bag, so seeing her sling it around like that made him feel rather like the comic relief in a particularly bad movie. It was a role he wasn’t used to seeing himself in, in all honesty, because like all members of the SOLCOM space service, not only did he keep himself fit, he was
required
to do so under his contract with SOLCOM.

He knew that he wasn’t out of shape, but the woman beside him was clearly leagues beyond him, and Sear found that an uncomfortable realization for his part.

“No,” she said, oblivious to his mental issues. “After the last mission on the Cheyenne, I spent my time Earth-side, taking classes and teaching at the academy.”

“Which academy would that be?”

“West Point.”

He stared for a moment, then nodded slowly. “The lifts are this way. We’ll get you berthed, I believe, then find you some workspace.”

“Copacetic, Commander,” Sorilla said. “Let’s be moving then.”

*****

Admiral Brooke was in transit back to the Legendary when the orders came in. This time they were delivered by hand via a courier ship she didn’t recognize the class off. Again, however, she found herself reading them over multiple times.

“They want me to report
where
?”

“The zeta point, ma’am.”

Brooke had to think hard to remember what the hell the zeta point was, but it came to her after a few seconds. The zeta point wasn’t actually a place, rather it was place
s
within the system. Within all systems actually. Potential jump points that weren’t useable for one reason or another.

Some weren’t stable, some weren’t aligned with anywhere you’d want to go, and some were just dangerous.

She scowled, looking over the orders, and identified which Zeta point she was supposed to report to.

“That’s out past the orbit of Pluto!” she blurted. “It’ll take days to get there without the Legendary!”

“You’ve been assigned a high-speed courier ship, the Hermes, ma’am. Its gravetics are fourth generation.”

Nadine stared a little dumbly at the young officer standing in front of her.

“The Legendary only has third-generation gravetics.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am aware.”

Brooke licked her lips, considering that, and looked out at the sleek and small courier sitting docked with her shuttle.

“All right. I’ll be aboard in five minutes.”

“Very good, ma’am. I will be awaiting your company.”

The officer stepped off and floated back down the connector to the courier ship. He had to reach out and grab the sides to slow his descent into the field of the small ship, which caught her eye. Brooke was suddenly very interested in what her new orders might lead to.

Someone has cleared me for intelligence that I couldn’t access yesterday. Interesting.

“I will prepare our bags, Admiral.”

“No, Terrance.” She shook her head. “Not us. Just me. Orders. Return to the Legendary and inform the captain that I’ll meet with the squadron when you’re all outbound.”

“Aye. ma’am, as you say.” Terrance was far from pleased with that set of orders, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it. “Watch yourself, ma’am.”

“He’s SOLCOM, Terrance, I doubt he’s planning on spacing me.”

“He stinks of intelligence, ma’am. He’s probably not smart enough to work an airlock,” Terrance said. “But intel weenies can’t be trusted. Those bastards don’t know what it is to work for a living.”

“I’ll bear it in mind, thank you, Terrance,” she said, amused. “Just pack me a fast bag, would you?”

“Will have to be, ma’am,” he said as he was moving. “Not a lot on here to send off with you. I have a change of uniform and some basic toiletries.”

“It’ll do. I can rough it a little while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Terrance nodded, throwing what he had into a small pack and handing it to her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days,” she said as she made her way to the lock and pushed down the connecting tube.

The gravity of the courier ship caught her quickly, and she reached out a controlling hand to slow her descent as she’s seen the other officer do. Once she was gone, the lock was disengaged and Stewart watched as the courier ship pulled quickly away and vanished into the black of space.

“Prick could have at least picked her up on the Legendary so I could prepare a proper bag,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

Honestly, some people had no sense of decency at all. Just no sense of decency.

*****

The officers quarters onboard ship beat the hell out of what she’d been afforded as a grunt, even a master sergeant, Sorilla was pleased to find. Oh, maybe the grunts had better on the Legendary than the old Cheyenne, but she doubted they were much better.

It wasn’t much, even so, not as rooms went. A small slice cut out of the deck, room for a bunk, a desk, and not a lot else. As a lieutenant, even a first lieutenant, she wasn’t going to qualify for anything better, but it was hers.

She tossed her bag down—she’d unpack later—and dropped onto the bed.

It was a double, instead of the single she’d been expecting. That meant that she could stretch out, and that was a luxury onboard ship. Usually you just strapped in somewhere in a room with a few others and slept when you had a chance. Microgravity wasn’t exactly conducive to having beds, after all, or privacy for that matter.

This isn’t half bad. I could get to like this.

Master of Ships Parath truly and honestly hated the Ross.

“Damage reports coming in, Master,” his second offered, looking somewhat shell-shocked.

Parath didn’t blame him, it had been a long time since anyone in the Alliance witnessed what they’d just laid eyes on. The Ross hadn’t turned their weapon on a
planet
since the war, and there weren’t many people in the Alliance who were still living from those days. Well, few Parithalians at least; some species were longer lived.

The reports were interminably long, lists upon lists of things that had been damaged by the secondary effects of the blast, for the most part. The level of radiation involved in the annihilation of a planet was obscene, for one problem. It blew out shielding two full orbits away and would probably still kill as many as ten percent of his crews, depending on how badly they were exposed. Minor effects could easily be countered, moderate ones would require extended treatment, but without direct access to Alliance facilities, there were some who could not be saved.

The majority of the rest of the damage came from random debris strikes. Space was immense, and the odds of being hit were low, even when you had an entire planet’s worth of fragmentation flying around, but some hits were all but inevitable, even as far away as his main force had been. These were almost all minor damages, however, and easily repaired in the field.

Unlike his interceptors, who had been much closer.

None of them survived the event, not a single ship. The Ross may as well have executed them personally, because there was no way that a lightly armored and shielded interceptor could possibly have endured anything of that nature.

Hence Parath’s current desire to order his ship to annihilate the two Ross ships before they recovered from the event themselves. He could blame it on the aliens, after all, his crews would keep the secret, at least long enough for him to secure backing in the higher political arena.

Tempting. So very tempting.

Unfortunately, he may well need their weapons in the upcoming campaign, and Parath could not afford to forget that.

This was a minor incident, as obscene as it is to say. The campaign will certainly continue.

“Master, the Ross ships are moving again. Heading toward the surviving alien ship.”

Parath hissed. He’d been hoping for a bit more time before they got moving again. “Put us between them! I want prisoners, and I want them under
my
command!”

*****

USV Terra

Pierce Richmond felt the world swim back into existence around him, a hand on his shoulder shaking him roughly.

“Captain! Captain! You have to wake up!”

Pierce rolled painfully over and found himself looking up into the eyes of an ensign he couldn’t quite place.

That’s odd. I know the names of all my officers, don’t I
?

He didn’t feel so good.

“I think he has a concussion.”

“He was thrown across the entire bridge into a bulkhead. I’m surprised he didn’t break his neck.”

“Captain, are you awake?”

“Stop flashing that damn light in my eyes.” Pierce weakly pushed the hand holding said annoyance away as he sat up.

The bridge spun around him, but only briefly before he got it under control. He groaned and got to his knees, then leveraged himself to his feet.

“Oh my lord, that sucks,” he mumbled out. “What’s going on?”

“The Ghoulies blew up the planet, sir, and…”

“I remember that part, I mean current status,” he growled, hand on the wall as he stood straight.

“Yes, sir. We’re not dead in the water, but we may as well be. Surrounded, all sides. The other species have put a blockade between us and the Ghoulies, but it looks like they intend to board us, Captain.”

“Weapons?” Pierce asked, limping back toward his station.

“Enough active to guarantee they blow us to hell, not much more than that.”

“Lovely.”

Pierce slumped into his seat, glancing over the status reports and tactical situation. As he’d been told, it wasn’t good.

The enemy fleet had them surrounded, which basically shot the idea of running out the window. They still had PD weapons available, but against alien ships of war, those weren’t going to do much more than annoy someone. There was a single ship in line with their Hammer launchers, but as satisfying as popping one ship would be, it wouldn’t exactly get them a lot.

“Captain!”