Star Force 11: Exile Page 10

Far beyond beam range, our Daggers jousted with the oncoming missiles. “Ten…seven…three…” I breathed. “Got them!”

  Right about then, our own salvo closed on the battleship. Beams lanced out from the enemy, spearing a few of our missiles despite their countermeasures. “Some are going to get through.”

  Sokolov muttered something, shaking his head. Hansen also looked skeptical.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “Point defense,” Hansen replied, and I realized what he meant just as the Raptor ship flipped ponderously end for end, presenting its flattened tail to the onrushing nuclear rockets.

  A sleet-storm of short-range beams pinpointed each missile, ripping them apart within seconds. One survived long enough to detonate in a blinding atomic flash, but nuclear blasts in space didn’t have as much effect as in an atmosphere. We’d needed a closer hit.

  Our suicide drones followed immediately afterward, and three of them survived long enough to blow their payloads closer. They were a bit larger and more heavily armored than standard missiles. I thought we’d probably done at least some damage to the enemy with that attack.

  Then the battleship swung back around pointing its heavy weapon toward the transport again. At least we’d bought some time as the interception curves moved a bit in our favor. Unfortunately, they chose that moment to launch another round of missiles.

  “Do it again,” I ordered. “Send our missiles on to the battleship, Daggers to shoot down their missiles. Don’t suicide our drones this time, though. The Raptor point defense is too tough. We’ll try to get the Daggers back home to help us out.”

  Again, our combat drones knocked down the Raptor volley. Their missiles were less sophisticated than ours, easy meat for our Daggers. After doing so, the drones spread out and decelerated using evasive maneuvers. Due to their speed they would overshoot the oncoming battleship, but hopefully they would catch up again in time to be useful.

  Our missile volley didn’t have any more effect than the last one did except to force the battleship to delay its acceleration and expend some energy. It looked like we weren’t going to do this the easy way after all.

  Closer and closer, Valiant and the Raptor battleship approached the slow-moving transport like two players racing for a ball. To the eye it had looked as if we would easily reach our quarry first, but we were decelerating and our enemy continued to accelerate. The equation was shifting in their favor. All the battleship had to do was get within beam range, and the game would get ugly. We might be able to knock down their missiles, but trying to shield another ship from beams was nearly impossible unless we had already docked with them. To do that, we had to beat them there with time to spare.

  It was going to be close. Speed is life in a space battle, and slowing down this much and presenting our butts to the enemy set my nerves screaming even though I knew we were still out of range. “Get me Kreel.”

  “I’m here, Commodore,” came the reply a moment later.

  “Do you have small craft—pinnaces, shuttles—anything like that aboard your ship?”

  “Only three. Not enough to hold all of us.”

  “How many of you are there?” Until now, I’d not thought to ask. I figured a couple of dozen at most, a force comparable to our marines in number.

  “We are two hundred eighty-eight.”

  “Two hundred—” I choked. “Kreel, even if we cram all of you aboard my ship we can’t feed and house that many.”

  “My people require little space. They can remain in their suits and use hibernation drugs for as long as necessary, and so we need almost no food, water or air. If we become a burden, you may jettison as many as necessary into space in order to reduce the strain on your ship.”

  “All right, we’ll proceed as planned. Get your troops in their suits and be ready to move fast.”

  “It shall be done.”

  Sokolov stepped forward to hiss in my ear. “You’re really going to let that many aliens come aboard? It could be a trick, a trap! This whole thing might be a perfect setup to capture your ship. Think, man! You’re being played.”

  I turned my back on him, staring at the holotank for want of anything else. I could feel the eyes of the crew burning holes in my back. What Sokolov had said made a certain amount of sense. Hell, it made a lot of sense. If Kreel was following in his rebel father’s footsteps, he was the Judas about to plant a big nasty kiss on my cheek. Yet…

  I turned back around to face the stares. “That’s a risk we’ll have to take. Kreel could have detonated that nuke when he was aboard Valiant, but he didn’t. Now he’s put himself in our hands. We’ll take every precaution, but I’m not going to let almost three hundred potential allies die when no one else within three star systems is on our side. We need them and they need us.”

  Hansen scowled, and Sokolov’s face turned even darker than usual. The rest looked uncertain. Only Bradley seemed confident, giving me a nod and a thumbs-up.

  “All right, in we go,” I said. “Hansen—it’s time for you to do some of those outstanding piloting tricks of yours. What’s our best point of contact? The pinnace bay, the drone launch tubes…?”

  “The marine assault airlock, I think,” he replied. “I’ll try to match it to one of their cargo bay doors, but getting securely clamped on will be the first priority, so it might be sloppy. I’d be ready to do some cutting if I were Kwon.”

  “If you were me, you mean. I’ll be meeting Kreel and his people.”

  Hansen and Sokolov exchanged glances, and then my XO spoke. “So with you off the bridge…”

  “You’ve got the conn, Hansen. The general is an advisor only and has no command authority.”

  “Understood.”

  Hansen and I had our differences, but I didn’t see him violating regs just because he disagreed with me. Besides, Sokolov had confirmed my captaincy, which should preclude anyone persuading Valiant’s brainbox to recognize someone else in overall command. Star Force AIs were flexible on some points, but command authority wasn’t one of them. Valiant would follow protocol to the letter.

  “I’m going to armor up,” I said. “Keep the channel open.”

  Striding off the bridge, I made my way to the armory. The room was empty except for weapons and spare suits humming in their niches providing extra power to the ship. The marines were already at their stations.

  “Suit, open up,” I told my custom armor. It obligingly split and I stepped into it.

  “Identity confirmed. Welcome back, Cody Riggs.”

  “Suit, are you getting smarter?”

  “Confirmed, Cody Riggs. My capacity has increased by three percent since you last used me.”

  “Well, don’t get too smart,” I muttered. “I’m sick of smartasses second-guessing me at every turn.”

  “Your instructions are unclear.”

  “Never mind. I love you just the way you are.”

  “Your instructions are unclear.”

  “Forget it. Close and release. Faceplate open.” Once I was free of the niche, I grabbed a Raptor space-axe. It was a trophy of our fight with the traitor Kleed. It would be a symbol and something for the Raptors to identify with, I hoped.

  Sokolov’s words nagged at me, though. What if it was a setup?

  “Suit, custom external markings mode.”

  “Mode initiated. What do you want to display?”

  “My new rank insignia as a commander.”

  “Accepted.” I looked in the steel wall mirror and saw commander’s stripes appear on my shoulders and wrists.

  “Now put an oversize replica of that Raptor award Klak gave us on my chest and back. Make it at least a foot across.”

  “Accepted.” A complex pattern appeared on the front of my suit and then refined itself to resemble the strings, ribbons and wires of a Raptor decoration.

  “Make the colors brighter and the size bigger. Two feet across.”

  “Accepted.” The award grew until it blazed forth, unmistakable, I hoped, even from a d
istance.

  “One more thing. Put the word ‘Riggs’ in both English and Raptor language right above the award symbol.”

  “Accepted.” The word appeared.

  “Good enough.” I switched to the marine channel. “Kwon, meet me at the assault airlock.”

  I found Kwon and a dozen marines there in the space in front of the huge smart-metal door. “Ten-shun!” the sergeant major barked as I entered the room. “Present—arms!” All the marines presented their weapons as if on parade.

  “Cut it out, Kwon. We’re on a rescue mission here, and we should be docking in three minutes.”

  “Just wanted to respect your new permanent rank, boss,” the big man grinned through his open faceplate. “At this rate you’ll outrank your old man soon.”

  “My father turned down promotion above Colonel many times, Kwon, so that’s moot.”

  “How’s what?”

  “Moot. The term means irrelevant.” Sometimes I forgot English wasn’t Kwon’s first language, he’d mastered it so well.

  “Sounds moot to me,” he said, chuckling.

  I cut him off before he could crack more lame jokes. He certainly hadn’t mastered humor. “Listen up. Deploy as if you’re repelling boarders. Valiant, energize all internal and external anti-boarding defense systems, but do not activate or fire unless I give the order or we’re attacked by boarders. If that happens, you are weapons free. Confirm.”

  “Command confirmed,” Valiant responded. “All internal and external anti-boarding defense systems energized but inactive. I will activate and engage all non-crew only if attacked or if you so order.” I thought the brainbox sounded a little petulant at being made to repeat my instructions, but I wanted to be very certain to avoid misunderstandings.

  “Boss,” Kwon said, “I thought these birds were our friends.”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent certain they are, Kwon, but just in case they’re trying to screw us I want to be ready.”

  “Good thinking, sir.” Kwon bellowed orders to his troops and they spread out in the bay, taking cover and readying their weapons.

  I stayed where I was, standing in the middle of the room facing the assault door. “Put me through to Kreel.”

  “Kreel here, Commodore.”

  “Commander, we’re coming in to match velocities and dock. Deactivate and sling all your weapons. I don’t want any mishaps or misunderstandings with my marines. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Commodore Riggs. My father was a traitor therefore it’s only proper that you should suspect me of shameful intentions. I must endure this dishonor.”

  “That’s not entirely—never mind. Just do it. The only fighting to be done here is ship-to-ship.”

  “We obey, Commodore Riggs.”

  “That’s all I ask. Riggs out.” I switched to the bridge feed on my HUD. Everything looked normal except for the sweat rolling down Hansen’s bald head as he gripped the controls. I didn’t say anything not wanting to distract him during this delicate piece of piloting. Instead, I brought up the space tactical display. Not nearly as good as a holotank, nevertheless it showed me what I wanted to know. The Raptor battleship was still out of effective range. It looked like we would make it in time.

  Unfortunately the Raptor battleship captain, whoever he was, had other ideas. I saw its icon flash and Valiant’s lights dimmed slightly. “What just happened?” I queried the ship.

  “The enemy ship has fired its main beam weapon.”

  “Analysis of the weapon?”

  “It appears to be a laser tuned for maximum effectiveness against Raptor materials.”

  “What was its target?” I was afraid I already knew the answer.

  “Its target appears to be the Raptor military transport near us. The transport has taken moderate damage.”

  “Damage? I thought we were beyond its range?”

  “We’re beyond its most effective range,” Valiant said somewhat testily. The longer these brains operated without routine software updates, the more personality it seemed to display. I wondered what the threshold was for true AI sentience, like Marvin’s, and how long it might be before Valiant approached it. I wasn’t looking forward to the promotion. One cranky self-directed machine intelligence was enough for me.

  “The weapon’s effective range,” Valiant went on officiously, “extends farther when the target is a soft one. The unarmored Raptor transport is virtually defenseless.”

  So they couldn’t hurt us at this range, but Kreel’s ship wasn’t anywhere near as tough as Valiant. That was all the more reason to dock and get our allies the hell off. The good news was that they weren’t shooting at us yet. Perhaps they knew it would be ineffective or maybe, just maybe, they were trying not to start a fight with us. After all, they hadn’t taken any direct offensive action against Valiant except for shooting down two of our spy drones, which they might view as defensive. On the other hand, we’d launched nukes at them, but they hadn’t launched any aimed at us. If I had to guess, they had a big beef with Kreel but not so much with us.

  “Coming in to dock,” I heard Hansen announce. “All hands brace for impact.” Our gravity plates would take care of most of the shock, but for those in standard suits hanging onto something was a good idea. Marines, on the other hand, just turned on the magnetics on their boots and let their armor do the rest.

  I felt the impact through the soles of my feet as the two ships slammed together. A new noise began immediately, the whine of docking clamps grabbing onto the transport with no finesse whatsoever. This was a combat docking with little regard for damaging the other ship. I saw the atmospheric pressure drop in the room, and then the smart metal hatch rolled back revealing part of a cargo bay door. Hansen had missed his mark by a few feet, but I could hardly complain. This whole maneuver was an improvisation.

  “Kreel, open the cargo hatch where our ships are in contact.” Before I finished speaking, I saw a crack widen and then stop with an opening about two feet across. The bay door was jammed up against the side of our ship.

  “Kwon,” I roared, “get up here with the cutters.” Soon, two marines sawed at the stuck door with molecular-edge tools resembling chainsaws, widening the hole.

  Suddenly, the hull of the transport bucked and writhed. “The Raptor transport is taking further laser damage,” Valiant told me.

  “Hansen,” I called, “extend our shields around the other ship!”

  “Already tried, Skipper,” he replied. “It won’t work. The transport is almost as big as we are, and the hull metal is different. The magnetics won’t harmonize. In fact, it’s interfering with our own shielding and sucking a lot of power.”

  “Roger. Riggs out.”

  A moment later we had a hole big enough to fit an armored marine through, and I charged forward onto the transport. “Keep widening that opening,” I called on the short-range com-link, and then I spotted my first Raptors.

  A group of about twenty armored birds stood in neat lines, weapons slung. When they saw me, they turned as one and saluted. I guess the markings on my armor had done the trick. I hoped they’d set their communications to the same channel I’d been using to talk to Kreel.

  “Get aboard my ship right now,” I barked. “Go, go, go!”

  The formation marched with good discipline past me and filed onto Valiant through the widening breach. I felt good about that until I remembered how damn many of them were to come. “Where’s Commander Kreel?” I asked on the Raptor channel.

  “Commander Kreel is on the bridge,” I heard a synthesized Raptor voice say sounding the same as all the other Raptors when processed through the software.

  “Where’s the bridge?” I said.

  “I will lead you,” came the reply. A Raptor stepped up to me, one with more decorations on his armor than most of the others. “I am Lieutenant Fleeg. Come with me, sir.”

  I followed the alien through flickering corridors with Kwon right behind me as usual. Fires flared here and there and more tha
n one wall had been bent or burned through. The transport was already in bad shape. I suspected we wouldn’t be taking all two hundred eighty-eight aboard. A slew of fallen Raptors piled in a corner confirmed my suspicions. Fleeg ignored the dead.

  Turning a corner, we reached their bridge. It was easy to recognize from the screens, control boards and the logical layout. For bipedal creatures with eyes and ears like humans and Raptors, form followed function.

  Kreel was sitting in a backless command chair. He was recognized by my HUD as well, which translated the symbols on his armor and identified him. He swayed as he saw us enter, and I noticed his armor had been scorched and dented. Several stations on the damaged bridge were occupied by slumped-over suits of armor, and one Raptor sprayed extinguishing foam at a fire.

  “Commodore,” Kreel said, lifting his one good hand and his tail in salute. “I am sorry for the state of my ship.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Commander. We need to get your people transferred to Valiant.”

  “I have given the necessary orders, but I will be the last to leave my vessel.”

  “You’re wounded, Kreel. We have to get you moving now or you may not have a ship to leave behind.”

  “I won’t go ahead of my sworn followers.”

  “You’ll damn well do as I order you to, Commander, or did you forget your oath?”

  Kreel heaved himself onto his feet. “I obey, Commodore Riggs.”

  Then he collapsed onto the floor.

  At that moment, both the gravity and the lights went out.

  -10-

  Suddenly, standing in utter darkness on the bridge of a lightly armored Raptor military transport that was under fire seemed like a bad idea. My HUD adjusted automatically for infrared and ultraviolet, which allowed me to see well enough. Kreel floated unconscious near the deck, with Fleeg bending over him tapping controls on the outside of his armored suit. The gravity came on at an emergency level, perhaps ten percent. All faceplates had automatically slammed shut as well, an indication that the air pressure had dropped.

  “Will he live?” I asked Fleeg.

  “Possibly.”