Moments Later. March 31st, 2267. 06:26 In Orbit Around Struve 3
Screaming through the void were hundreds of thousands of projectiles. The combat had degenerated into a bloodthirsty melee. One that the Confederates, while dinged up, were winning inch by inch. The problem with their strategy was they were a vastly superior force on a ship-by-ship basis, but they were still outnumbered thirty-five to one.
Odds that have been drastically improved due to their current kill count, which exceeded three hundred and fifty-two ships at this point in the fighting. The devils in the details though, all but twelve of those ships were corvettes or modified shuttles. A hunting rifle likely could take out some of the jalopies they were fighting. But a ship kill is a ship kill, no matter how fair the fight was.
Even if the pirates managed to wipe the Confederate forces to the last ship, they would do so paying in a desperate amount of blood. A significant percentage of capital ships in the pirate arsenal were now dead with no hope of recovery or repair. If they win, it’d be nothing more than a pyrrhic victory.
The Icarus was barely moving along in the void. Her primary and secondary drive systems were destroyed. Adding insult to injury was the damage to virtually all of her slip space generators. While a jump to slip space could be accommodated by another similarly sized ship, without active slip generators the Icarus would be destined to drift in slip space forevermore.
John was multitasking throughout this fight; he was tracking the Icarus’ every move. They would not escape from his clutches this time around. He was determined to not be Ahab this day, to not sacrifice everything for his white whale. Deep down though, that was exactly what he was prepared to do to win this day.
The Waukesha’s, along with her escorts, forward-firing weapons were beating the bejesus out of the starboard side of the Triple Hydra. All shields were annihilated, but unlike many of the other pirate ships, her armor remained strong. For now.
Just then, then Waukesha took a glancing blow from a rail round.
“Fucking hell,” Willy shouted, “That was fired from one of Patrice’s escorts. Friendly fucking fire.”
“VI didn’t catch that round,” Walter said somewhat sheepishly.
“Focus!” John said sternly.
The kill shot wouldn’t come from any of the numerous railguns. Nor would it come from a torpedo, mostly because Walter forgot to load and fire any. No, the kill shot would come from a plasma blaster, used primarily to attack and destroy incoming projectiles. Destroying another capital ship with an anti-missile weapon was a disrespectful way to kill another ship.
But what wins a war, wins a war. It didn’t matter what weapon they used to end the enemy in John's eyes. Any way they killed a ship, with a few exceptions, was morally and ethically acceptable. Plasma blast guns were a perfectly acceptable way to destroy an enemy vessel. Especially when their fire robbed Patrice of a ship kill, not that he hadn’t already chalked up a healthy tally of those in the combat so far.
Just as the Waukesha crossed above the Triple Hydra, secondary explosions ripped through the pirate vessels. Docking ports, shield bay doors, and even many transparent metal windows of the vessel blew out because of the blast’s pressure wave. The Waukesha soared over the dead ship and veered off toward more enemy vessels.
Unfortunately for John, this action didn’t snap the pirates out of their desire to kill John and his compatriots. If anything, it only enraged them more. Now it seemed like the only way out of it was to destroy the capital ships.
“Barbara, please advise the fleet to focus their fire on the cruisers and frigates. They need to be eliminated.”
Willy shook his head, “That’s easier said than done, captain. We need…”
“The squadrons need to be in constant motion, strike one group of ships, and move to the next cluster. The next fleet will hit the group you just hit and on and on,” John shared a rough plan he hastily created at his console with his communications officer, “The only way out of this is to kill them all. Our cruisers need to be loud and proud, draw the pirate attacks onto them.”
The fleet responded accordingly. Each group of Confederate ships enacted John’s adjustment to their battle plan. Patrice’s squadron was the first to get into danger close range to a pair of enemy frigates. While they didn’t kill the capital ships, eight more escorts were shredded on their way out.
John and his escorts slammed into the same group moments after Patrice’s group left them in their dust. The Waukesha couldn’t claim a capital ship kill this go around, those honors fell to the Alps and Boulder, and their efforts eliminated another five escorts.
“Captain,” the concerned voice of their chief engineer said over the intercom, “Our shields are shot to shit, literally. The peashooters they are using are affecting the structural integrity of the ablative armor plates.”
“Quantity becomes a quality unto itself, eh, chief?” John responded semi-sarcastically.
“The sooner we end this the better. We are battered shit.”
Just as Marty finished speaking the Waukesha was rocked hard by an impact. Warning sirens blared the bad sirens. That was a distinctive one that indicated a loss of atmosphere. The warning ended nearly as quickly as it started, and the safety systems engaged immediately.
“Loss of life?” John asked calmly.
“We were lucky. The round was a through above our port hangar,” Marty said, “We were struck in the corner of a storage room, that was emptied out a week ago.”
“Barbara, let’s be a bit more evasive,” John’s steely exterior belied the turmoil within, “Time for reinforcements?”
Deb shook her head, “Twenty-seven minutes at the earliest.”
John stared at the screen, “Why are they not scattering, they’ve never put this degree of fight up?”
“We’ve killed a full third of their ships,” Ingrid said, “But they still have eighteen capital ships remaining.”
John stared at the screen. What he was witnessing was bewildering. Pirates had never fought this hard against their forces before. Sure, some resistance always happened, but a thought of self-preservation always permeated their actions. Was it the Icarus? Were they truly the ones holding this ragtag assembly together?
“Deb, what pirate ship is sending out the majority of coms traffic?”
“It’s shifted. Each one we’ve killed.”
“Focus fire on the cripples,” John said coldly, “Once they are dead then refocus on new capital ships.”
The order went out. Within five minutes, four frigates, a destroyer, and a cruiser were ended. But yet the pirates continued to fight on. No ship, be they pirate or Confederate, had any shields left. The only ships that could continue to fire lances were the Confederate cruisers, and that was only because those ships could eject and replace the lance during a battle.
The Alps and both of her sister ships were forced to withdraw after taking a grievous glancing attack. A rail round from the remaining pirate cruiser struck at the bow and mangled every armor plate on her starboard side. The ship was a few centimeters away from destruction. Her companion ships took similar damage or had expended all of their ordinances.
In fact, the Confederate frigates were getting dangerously low on munitions. But they fought on. The rate of fire lowered on the smaller ships; conserving ammunition was just as important as killing enemy ships. It was a pity that the plasma blasters required such close range to use effectively as they were the ideal weapon to use for those targets.
The Pasto was the next Confederate ship forced to withdraw. Her primary drive cone was shattered due to a rail round being deflected onto it from bouncing off of the Baltimore. That was rotten luck the way she had to creep away from the battle using the much weaker secondary drive cones. The pirates thought her easy pickings, but in her fighting withdrawal, she eliminated thirty-two escort ships.
The reinforcement timer had ticked down another fifteen minutes, but they were still a dozen away. In twelve minutes, the Confederates had managed to double their kill tally, now two-thirds of the pirate ships had been killed, but still, the pirates fought on. The tide had turned. The plucky Confederates had won the day.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
That message either wasn’t given to the pirates, or they hadn’t realized it. They continued to press the attack on the exhausted Confederate crews. Six capital ships were all that was left of their once large fleet. The Icarus, rather rudely and disrespectfully taken out of the fight before the engagement had properly started, was dead in the water.
Two cruisers, a frigate, and a destroyer were all that was left in the pirate fleet. Sure, there were still over two hundred corvettes, shuttles, and patrol craft, but even in their damaged states, those ships had to get supremely lucky with their shots or get far too close for comfort to accurately target weakened areas on the warships.
“Target the Olympus, Walter,” John said as the Waukesha screamed toward the target.
Every single weapon system was activated and fired from the Waukesha. The forward rail turrets, lances, and laser batteries were tenderizing the pirate cruiser. The other rail turrets were firing at different targets. Every eight seconds a volley of three shells rang out into the void at a target. Plasma blasters shot at the small, and quite annoying, escort craft. With each attack run the Waukesha seemed to chalk up another five to seven kills.
“Runaway you stupid bastards,” Brian said, “What is the point of this wanton slaughter?”
“Optics, it’s the only thing they have left,” John said, “To try and turn the public against us and for them.”
“Would that even work?” Ingrid asked, “I wouldn’t have predicted they’d welcome being martyrs to their cause.”
“I wonder,” John said as he rippled his fingers on his armrest, “I wonder if the Icarus would have willingly gone down with the rest of their peers.”
“That is another ship kill. The Olympus is a flaming wreck!” Walter shouted excitedly.
The pirates continued to press the attack. No matter how inconsequential or toothless it was. The pirates held their ground despite being gutted left, right, and center. On one hand, John thought it impressive that pirates, of all groups of people, would dig their heels in so firmly to a position.
Thirteen long and dreadful minutes later it finally happened. John and the Waukesha were able to conduct four more attack runs on clusters of pirate ships. Finally, at long last, the will of the pirates had been broken. They lasted long enough for one more capital ship, their last remaining frigate, to be destroyed.
The smaller vessels, all left of this group immediately broke off the attack and scattered. That didn’t stop the ships from attempting to destroy them. Another six of their escorts were killed in short order. But now, at the winning moments of the battle, some of the pirates had finally wizened up or finally felt that urge to preserve their lives.
“Captain, the fleet is reporting the pirates’ vessels are scattering,” Deb said.
“Barbara, adjust course and bring us back to the big bastard,” John said as he a deep breath, “Advise the fleet to pursue and destroy the remaining three capital ships.”
“Understood. Three remain beside the Icarus. It’ll be five minutes before we get back to the Icarus.”
John nodded. For the first time since the conflict began, they couldn’t hear the armor plates or shields absorb any fire. It was an odd feeling actually, it was of course wrong to feel that way, but that was almost the norm for them.
Marty then spoke up, “Now that we know we’re going to live, I’ve got my money on an eleven-month repair job.”
“That with you leading the job, right?” John grinned, “How bad is it?”
“The whole damn lance array, including the internal power couplings, are going to need to get replaced. You fried that shit properly. I don’t think we have a single armor plate that I’d consider safe or usable anymore. And we’ve got three noticeable hull punctures near as I can tell.”
“Do we need to move any crew away from the hull?”
Marty paused, “That would be the prudent thing to do. I’ll take care of that. Port hangar may not be a fun place to live, but it beats dying to a vacuum.”
The intercom closed and Ingrid couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the chief engineer, “That man is so crass.”
“I’d say grizzled,” Brian grinned.
“True on both counts,” John said as he finally let himself enjoy a smile.
The final capital ship of the pirates exploded in a bright blue ball of plasma. Patrice claimed one more kill for the good guys. None of the Confederate ships were lost. But they didn’t escape without loss of life. Every ship in the fleet reported deaths, the Waukesha was no different, though they fared better than their peers.
“Deb, order the ships that retreated to regroup at the military outpost in the polar orbit of the moon. The rest of us will remain here until the cavalry arrives.”
“We have no drones. Neither does the Baltimore. Literally, all of the drones have been used,” Monique said in a shocked tone.
“Would you look at that?” Walter said as his eyes opened up, “I’ve been shooting blanks with five of my turrets for the last three minutes. Damn, I didn’t think we could expand that much ammo.”
John looked down at his console and saw what munitions were available. They still had twenty-five volleys in the forward four turrets, but that was three minutes of firing. The reinforcement timer still showed nine minutes remaining.
The close-in-combat defensive systems were all empty. Every last one of them. Over four dozen of the little systems were scattered throughout the hull, and none had a single round remaining. No multi-missiles were remaining either. They didn’t even have any more replacement lances, which were in rough shape as they were.
One cruise missile and three torpedoes were also left. John covertly ordered the torpedoes to be loaded into the forward and aft tubes. He watched the distance between them and the Icarus close. The old ship was brought up on half of the primary viewscreen.
“Jesus, we battered the shit out of it,” John said.
“Captain, her primary core seems to be off. They are running on backup power only. They have no propulsion of any kind,” Monique said.
“Dead in the water,” John smiled.
The Waukesha closed in on its prey. The alpha predator wasn’t bothering to stalk its prey anymore. Its actions were bold and direct. And more than anything else painfully obvious to know what was next.
“Sir, they are hailing us,” Deb said.
“Onscreen,” John said as he interlocked his hands together.
“It seems you were the better man this day…” Rene sighed as he couldn’t finish his sentence.
The pirate bridge looked like a hoarder’s nightmare. Soot stained the walls, wire and fiber bundles were hanging from the ceiling, and multiple stations looked like they had suffered power surges. For a bridge that could handle ten to fifteen people, there were only three people alive. John could vaguely make out three dead bodies beneath the piles of trash that their attacks had caused.
“I told you that I’d kill you.”
“You did, but here I am offering my surrender,” Rene grinned as he spoke, “You can’t, no won’t, kill us. The military and government will trot us about as traitors. Make a mockery of the justice system while they do that. Sure, we will ultimately die, but more will rise to our cause. And you can do nothing but impotently rage at the movement our deaths will create.”
“That sure of yourself?” John asked, “Why would they side with you? The government crushed your rebellion. If you think we’re done coming after this organization your wrong.”
John paused and laughed as he leaned back in his chair. He stared at Rene menacingly. There were no feelings of empathy left for the pirates. Only disdain and apathy.
“What this rebellion did was show how far our governments will go. Yes, I said governments. You and I hate the Alliance and the Mercantilists alike, but we’re working with them to root out the cancer that is pirates. Imagine that, hundreds of years of not working with one another but you helped unite us against a common cause. Bravo.”
“Your sarcasm is misplaced. You do not have any idea of the will of the people. Our brothers and sisters are oppressed. We do this to be free.”
John shook his head, “Free from what? Honestly, what are you not able to do in Confederate territories? Virtually any job you want to do is out there. Want a lower tax rate? Find a new colony to live in. Hell, most colonies have plans to transport you to them at their costs.”
“Yes, where they must live in loan-based slavery in perpetuity. You are a fool if…”
“Rightful liberty is unobstructed action according to our will within limits drawn around us by the equal rights of others,” John said, “Jefferson was wise beyond his years. You don’t profess that at all you damned fool. You are no different than I, we both believe that might make right to a degree. You say you want freedom, but it’s not freedom that you desire, you want to be free to do whatever you want to anyone else without worry of repercussions.”
Rene sighed as he tightened his bandage, “The blood of you tyrants will spill. And when it begins, the people will rise up against you.”
“I’m not the one living in delusions. I pity you and your crew, your woeful view of the universe is just sad,” John’s disappointment in his foe could be felt in those words.
“What will you do with our families?”
“Hmmm…” John said as he paused and thought, “At a bare minimum? Wives, significant others, and children will be rounded up and investigated thoroughly. If any direct aid was given, especially since this rebellion started, I’d wager long prison sentences. Aid is given before and during the operation though? Probably death. I wouldn’t be surprised if aunts, uncles, grandparents, and second cousins are investigated.”
“That is how you tyrants will lose the people.”
“No, that is how the people know that we will protect them from those that would prey upon the common folk. Every year pirates cause thousands of deaths and loss of revenue to businessmen. The people are tired of you folks not playing by the rules, rules that they are playing by. They know there is no winning at that game.”
“Captain, slip space ruptures are forming. The Cavalry is here,” Willy said from the rear of the bridge.
“Rene, consider surrender rejected,” John pressed a red button on his armrest’s console, “We’ll see one another again in hell, but it isn’t my time just yet.”
“You can’t…”
John ended the call. The bridge crew watched as three torpedoes streaked toward a defenseless ship. Each of the torpedoes had targeted a third of the ship. Time slowed down once more for the crew onboard the Waukesha. Surprise turned to horror as they witnessed their captain commit an actual war crime.
Even the Alliance, who was hated as much as pirates, would be given a quarter if they signaled a surrender. Pirates were too, in fact, it was rather commonplace. Captains just didn’t violate that singular rule.
Walter looked down at his console and saw that he, along with everyone else for that matter, had no control over those torpedoes. There was no way for him to detonate them or retarget them. John had done something to them.
“Captain, I cannot abort that launch,” Walter’s tone was highly worried.
John stood up and looked at his weapon’s officer, “I no longer wanted that ship to exist.”
Behind John, the viewscreen displayed the torpedoes impacting the Icarus one after another. Moments later massive explosions tore through the ship. The central circular area of the ship broke into two. Nothing was left alive. The Icarus didn’t die in a righteous explosion, her death was but a whimper. Her legacy was at an end, but what would become of John’s legacy? Only time would tell.