Ten hours later, Gabe flew through space along with the rest of his flight. They’d already been renamed; the RSR pilot he’d rescued the other day had unwittingly given it to the entire flight. The moment she had been taken out of her rig, she had called him her “guardian angel.” Who could have known that the moniker would stick? Yet it had, and the “Iron Angels” were flying to battle for the first time.
He opened a channel to the rest of the CTRs. “Angel Flight, we have targets marked by Eyes-One. He’s flying recon for us on this mission; do not, under any circumstances, signal Eyes-One. In fact, restrict all transmissions to the flight until further orders.” Gabe shook his head. “We go through on one run and do as much damage as we can. Then we return to the Deliverance. Any questions?”
Allen, the pilot of Angel-Two, spoke up. “Yeah. What do we do when the enemy starts launching MSSRs?”
“For now, we pour on the juice and get out ahead of them. We don’t want you dogfighting in the middle of the enemy base.”
Angel-Three spoke up next. “What targets should we hit first? The hangers?”
“No.” Gabe shook his head again. “That way, we end up running right into their teeth. Stay clear of the launch facility and target one of the defense asteroids. Strafe anything that looks like a weapons bunker and get out.”
Allen spoke again. “Sounds good. Do you want fries with that?”
Gabe chuckled along with the rest of them, and then Angel-Four broke in. Her voice was terribly unemotional. “Angel-Four, I have direct sensor contact with the target base. Vector one-three-zero.”
He looked up and found the base right where she had reported. Strangely, he didn’t feel that same burst of panic that had haunted his commands before. Gabe smiled. Maybe after being in Delacourt’s sights, nothing scared him enough anymore. “Good catch, Four. Let’s head in. Remember, one pass and run for all you’re worth.”
From her perch in the command center on the bridge, Susan watched as the four pilots swooped in on the Outrider base. She felt uncomfortable, and wasn’t sure why. Gabe had provided the backbone of the plan, but she had helped refine it enough so that it would work. He had proved surprisingly effective as a tactical officer. Still, Susan couldn’t help feeling nervous as the CTRs closed in.
The plan was perfect. Surely nothing would go wrong. Not now. She turned to Captain Ndigwe. “Take us in toward the base. I want us to be in range to recover damaged rigs. Maintain signal discipline on approach.” The captain nodded, and the ships moved closer. Hours ahead of them, the CTRs went in on final approach and Susan’s eyes remained glued to the screen as plasma fire began to race in every direction.
Gabe fired at the nearest weapons port he could see. Plasma bursts flared against the shields for a moment until they failed, and then bursts of energy tore their way through the housing for the plasma cannon on the surface. The turret detonated in a violent eruption of superheated gas, and he started stitching the rocky surface with fire, hoping to hit something important.
Behind him, a half-dozen MSSRs were gathering in pursuit. Their Vulcan plasma rifles flashed as they threw a flurry of shots after him and the rest of Angel Flight, but none came close to hitting. A second half dozen launched from the facility, and Gabe decided it was time to leave. “Angel Flight, head for the flotilla. Continue evasive maneuvers as you go until we are clear of their firing range.”
Acknowledgements rolled back to him as the four members of Angel Flight spun away from their strafing run and shot away from the wounded defense station, their tetherdrives roaring with power. Behind them, all eight escort craft and twelve MSSRs began their vengeful pursuit.
Susan let out a breath she had not known she was holding as the CTRs sprinted clear of the Outrider facility. It would still be hours before the operation was over, but from what she could see, all four had made it out intact. Behind them, a cloud of indistinct contacts marked the positions of MSSRs, and eight more clear signals marked the enemy escort craft. All were outbound along the CTRs’ vector, and she smiled. Gabe’s plan, unlikely as it would seem, had worked.
On the other side of the facility, lumbering at a much slower pace, the four AWORs of the flight Pillars of Heaven bore down on the launch facility. Their systems had been partially shut down, and their remaining functions muted to avoid detection by enemy sensors. With the chaos left by Captain Gabriel’s strafing run and the guidance provided by Eyes-One, they were nearly on top of their target before any of the Outriders realized it.
Pillars-One and Pillars-Two both struck the launch facility’s rig hangers. Orienting themselves at the last minute, both AWORs fired railgun projectiles into the still-open launch bays. Accelerated to almost ludicrous levels by the one-use weapons, the projectiles shot through the gravitic repulsion fields around the facility and into the launch bays. Small annihilation warheads detonated when they reached their assigned targets, and jarring bursts of light gutted both hangers.
Pillars-Three and -Four swung wide of the blossoming explosions and pumped shots into the mass driver array. Two railgun hits and multiple heavy plasma rifle blasts tore the superstructure of the driver apart, shredding it as if the frame were nothing more than a spider web. Further strafing reduced other bunkers to melted slag or shattered fragments, and then the flight of AWORs turned to avoid the returning MSSRs and shot out perpendicular to the course of the incoming ships. Their ammunition expended, they had no further need to enter combat.
They had accomplished their purpose anyway. The hangers were destroyed, and the mass driver shattered. Susan smiled. In a matter of minutes, the Outrider facility was in shambles, their defenses wrecked and the launch facility a pointless ruin. All she had to do now was lure the enemy ships into a final clash with her own ships, and the day would truly be won.
If only she did not feel quite so happy that it had been both her plan and Captain Gabriel’s that had succeeded so well. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by some abrasive rig pilot. Even if she did like his smile.
Gabe nearly shouted for joy as explosions ripped through the launch facility. It had worked! He saw the AWORs diving away from the asteroids, dodging the futile return fire with ease, and opened a channel to the leader. “Good run, Pillars-One. Looks like you tagged them pretty good.”
Scott signaled back a moment later. “Confirmed, Angel-One. Launch facility is assessed inoperable. See you back at the fleet.” The flight of AWORs continued their dive, but Gabe knew they would eventually curve up and back toward the ships. They needed to dock at a hanger eventually, after all.
“Until then, Pillars.” Gabe shut down the link and settled in. It would be another hour or so until his actual part of the operation would be over, and he needed to keep the enemy trailing behind him the whole way. He sighed. The admiral never asked things only partway, did she?
Susan watched as the units in the projection continued to move. Angel Flight was now leading the enemy units on a merry chase, enticing them along a serpentine course that would allow the fleet to catch them by surprise and—more importantly—cut them off from a retreat to the base. Eyes-One was on a return journey from the Outrider outpost, carefully avoiding any enemy craft, while Eyes-Two had launched on a mission to observe the escort craft ahead of the second phase of the battle. Pillars Flight was curving back toward the fleet as well, though the lumbering AWORs would require more time to reach safety.
She turned her attention to the ships in Captain Gabriel’s wake. It was hard to get a solid sensor fix on the twelve MSSRs, but the eight escort craft were much more clear. From the data collected by Eyes-Two and Eyes-One, they were three distinct types of ship. Such diversity hinted at a level of resources and complexity among the Outriders that worried her, but she could set aside those concerns for another time.
The first escort type made up three of the enemy ships. Heavy armor coated the bow, along with a single large weapons mount. Both ships of the second type mounted only a single weapon as well, though it seemed to be a smaller weapon, possibly only a Grade 5 plasma cannon. All three of the third type mounted four weapons and the same heavy protection forward. The design reminded her of the pirate ships she had faced—heavy on offensive weaponry and armored for making straightforward attacks on enemy ships. She smiled.
It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
After almost an hour of travel, Gabe finally picked up the signal for the Deliverance. The entire collection of enemy craft was still trailing behind him, though some distance had opened up between the twelve MSSRs and the escort craft behind them. He checked the angle of Deliverance’s approach and found that the cruiser was coming in exactly as planned. Delacourt had been the one to come up with the idea of using the CTRs to bait the escort craft away in addition to setting up the AWOR strike, and Gabe was beginning to appreciate the beauty of the move. Soon the enemy would be completely cut off, though he wondered if that would convince the enemy to surrender or just to fight harder.
Whatever the case, he continued on that same curving course, watching for any sign that the enemy had picked up on the trick. For an hour or two, there was no change. Then abruptly, the escort craft swerved around to face the incoming flotilla, their shields up and weapons swiveling. The MSSRs followed suit, swinging out to form an advance screen for the ships. “Heads up, Angel Flight. It looks like the real action is about to start.”
Allen answered first. “Two here. Are we planning on sitting this dance out, One?”
“Don’t know, Two. We’re waiting on the admiral to make her call.” A beep alerted him to an incoming signal, and he smiled. “Speak of the devil.” Gabe brought up the message.
Delacourt’s voice was calm and collected, which Gabe took as a good sign. “Angel Flight, engage the enemy rigs and destroy as many as possible before returning to the Deliverance. We will be providing cover fire to break up the enemy flights. Command out.”
Gabe relayed the instructions to the rest of the pilots and shook his head. “Twelve against four. She’s pretty confident in our abilities, isn’t she?”
Angel-Three spoke up. “Well, she’s right to be! We’ll show these Outriders how things are done around here.”
The enthusiasm in that young voice reminded Gabe of Anvil. He wished the escort craft was here as well; the anti-rig guns could really have evened the odds a little. “All right, here’s what we’ll do. They’re coming in two waves of six. We’ll swing out wide and come at them head-on—that way, we avoid the nasty guns those escort craft are packing. Gang up on them again, like we did at the last fight. Four on one for the approach, then roll and hit them two on one. Once the first flight is passed us, roll again to hit the second flight the same way. I figure we can at least stop their forward momentum.”
Earline in Angel-Four answered. “Sounds good here, One. Should we let the cruisers know we’re coming in across their firing vectors?”
Gabe grinned. “Yeah, probably, Four. I’ll take care of it. Follow my lead.” The four CTRs curved onto their collision course with the enemy, their more powerful tetherdrives easily eating up the distance. He took the time to relay his plans to the cruiser, hoping Delacourt wouldn’t decide to get creative at the last minute.
The delay was much longer before the cruiser responded, as the distance was much further, but when Gabe received the signal, it was Delacourt’s voice. “Command to Angel-One. We will be firing on targets in that area. Do not, repeat, do not engage or close with enemy escort craft.”
Was that concern in her voice? Gabe smiled. He keyed his communications. “Angel Flight to Command, we are outbound to engage MSSRs. Try to shoot clear of us if you can. Angel Flight out.”
Susan managed to avoid a sarcastic response to Captain Gabriel’s jibe. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her from the situation at hand, not with so much in play.
“Command to all ships, assume formation Alpha-Five. Avoid firing on friendly rig units once the engagement starts.” Acknowledgements rolled back across the net, and the flotilla got into formation. The Foundry and the Healing took up positions on Deliverance’s flanks, while the four escort craft dropped slightly back and below the larger ships. She turned back to see how the enemy reacted.
The escort craft had already veered onto new courses to prepare for their engagement. Both Type 1 escorts had veered upwards relative to the fleet, likely intending to dive on them from above. The three Type 3s had separated onto three different courses, with one approaching from below and to either side of the fleet while a third had settled into a direct course through the flotilla. All three Type 2s came on that same direct course, flanking their dissimilar companion. Beyond them, Eyes-Two had taken up a position that would allow the RSR to observe the enemy without being in the line of fire.
Satisfied with the progress of the battle, she turned her attention back to the distance marker. It had counted down steadily as the separation closed. It flashed green, showing they had reached weapons range. She smiled. “Foundry, Healing, open fire on targets 3-2 and 3-3 respectively. Escort craft, support the frigates. Deliverance, fire on 3-1 with forward batteries and 1-1 with the aft guns. Maintain evasive maneuvers.” She paused. “Commence firing.”
There was a sudden torrent of plasma fire all around the CTRs as the ships exchanged fire. Gabe wove through the waves of superheated gas, praying that the Lord would preserve him and his fellow CTR pilots once again.
Miraculously, none of the rigs were hit by the barrage. He shook his head to clear it, and cleared his throat. “Angel-One to Flight. Did any of the MSSRs bite the dust?”
Earline answered. “Four to Flight. Negative on destroyed MSSRs. I’m reading twelve rigs in two waves on incoming tracks. I’d estimate the intercept at thirty-five seconds. What do you think, One?”
A quick check confirmed it. “Intercept looks right. Good job, Four.” The easy part now done, Gabe scanned across the incoming ships. “Angel Flight, initial target will be the rig at zero-one-one. Concentrate fire, then break by pairs and roll. Two, you and I will hit the one at zero-one-three after the roll.”
“Confirmed, Angel One. You want me to ping him?”
Gabe shook his head. “Not this time. Just pick your shots as well as you can; we can’t afford to lose anyone today. The Lord watch over us all.”
The short prayer was echoed by the rest of the flight as the range counted down. Gabe settled his sights over the first MSSR on the right, hoping the initial barrage would not be too heavy for a good shot.
To his surprise and pleasure, the sights turned green before the enemy opened fire. Gabe pulled the trigger, sending out a burst of plasma shots that streaked in toward the target. Three other streams of plasma stuttered toward the MSSR. A half-heartbeat later, the MSSRs responded with blasts of their own, but it was far too late for the CTRs’ first target. The MSSR seemed too surprised by the barrage to avoid it; nine different shots converged on it and chewed the rig to pieces.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Gabe swept shots across the rest of the MSSR formation just to keep the enemy pilots busy. As they passed the MSSRs at close range, the Angels rolled, and Gabe felt a burst of hope as four plasma volleys reached out toward two unsuspecting rigs. The enemy craft came apart as the shots took them from behind. He triggered his communications as he continued his roll.
“Angels, keep firing by pairs and pick targets from the second flight. Two, who do you have?”
Allen’s voice came back immediately. “Target at two-one-five. Firing!” Gabe joined his fellow Angel in targeting the MSSR. His shots went wide, but came close enough that the enemy pilot shied away from them. The maneuver took him straight into a pair of shots from Allen’s rifle, both of which cut into the armor on its midsection. He expected to see the enemy rig shrug off the damage, but apparently the techs had not lied when they said the CTR’s weaponry was new and improved. Both shots penetrated and the MSSR folded up around the gaping holes they left. It tumbled uselessly through space in their wake.
Another rig exploded off where Three and Four had been firing, and then the flight was past the second wave of MSSRs. Gabe keyed his transmitter again. “Angels, roll and engage individual targets. Begin close-combat maneuvers.” He matched words to action as he rolled and pinned the crosshairs to the back of one MSSR. The plasma rifle put three shots into its back, and the rig exploded. A second rig blew up under Four’s fire, while Allen and Three combined their fire to take down a rig from the first group, who had managed to swing around and come after them.
The loss of over half their pilots to forces they outnumbered and had previously outgunned obviously stunned the remaining MSSRs. They scrambled to engage the four CTRs, their heavy repeaters blasting wildly at them. Gabe smiled and slowed his rig. The Lord had finally heard his prayers, and it was his turn now. He boosted toward his targets, selected one of the MSSRs, and pulled the trigger.
Susan watched as the MSSRs evaporated on the CTRs’ first firing run, and felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had barely dared hope that Gabriel’s run would be effective enough to stop the threat of the MSSRs to her ships, but he and his rigs were performing incredibly. Distasteful though it might be, she might owe him some thanks by the end of the engagement.
The battle was going well. In just the first exchange of shots, all three of the type 3 escorts had taken heavy damage. The two which had taken the combined fire of the escorts and the frigates now rolled through space, crippled and unable to change course. Target 3-1, still directly ahead of the Deliverance, stumbled forward as if the craft itself had been dazed by the barrage. By comparison, the shields of the flotilla had absorbed most of the return fire. Even by concentrating all their fire on Deliverance, the enemy had been unable to do more than weaken the shields.
The Type 1s were turning down, aiming to make a firing run on the cruisers from above, which she had expected. Directly ahead, however, the Type 2s slowed to keep pace with their .damaged companion. Their maneuvers made no sense. Perhaps they were hesitant to engage the cruisers head-on?
No. They had been more than eager to close with Deliverance before—why falter when you were halfway to your targets? The only reason to pull back from their positions now was if their weapons were not as heavy as they would need to be to challenge the cruisers in the first place, or relied on indirect fire to accomplish their work. Why approach in the first place, then?
Her gaze was drawn to the Type 1s diving from above, and she remembered that she had more pressing concerns. “Escort squadron, climb toward the targets 1-1 and 1-2. Bring all available firepower to bear. Foundry, Healing, gain altitude relative Deliverance and provide covering fire. Deliverance, continue fire on 3-1 until it is disabled and brace for close-range assault.”
The orders came almost too late. Even as the ships shifted along the courses she had set, the Type 1s opened up with a terrifying rain of plasma blasts. Some distant part of her mind recognized that the cannon they were using had to be high-grade weaponry, likely a Grade 16 or higher. The hits they inflicted on Deliverance ripped apart the flickering shields and rocked the ship with severe explosions, sending shattered armor spraying out into space. A second such run would likely cripple the cruiser.
Fortunately, that was the last thing she would have to worry about. Both Foundry and Healing fired on the ships, their plasma bursts pounding against the escort’s defensive screens. Then all four Samar-class escorts rose past the cruiser formation and opened fire, adding their own plasma bursts to the barrage. The screens went down, and then the four escorts unleashed their particle cannon. Four spears of light and fury stabbed into the Type 1s. Armor melted and hulls evaporated in a blinding flash, and both ships were reduced to nothing but dead wrecks.
3-1 attempted to climb into the wake of the four escorts, still firing its plasma cannon. Captain Ndigwe’s guns did not permit much of a reply, however. Every cannon on the cruiser targeted the ship. The faltering defensive screens failed under the assault, and shots skipped through the holes as they disappeared. Hit after hit cut into the damaged escort craft until its power plant detonated.
With five of their ships now destroyed, the remaining three escorts turned and ran. While it was the logical thing to do under such circumstances, she saw something in their wake that chilled her blood—third flight of MSSRs, launched from the escort craft themselves instead of the asteroid platforms. In an instant, she pictured the rigs tearing through the Deliverance’s weakened armor and nonexistent screens. Even the cruiser could not withstand that kind of bombardment for long. She activated her communications. “Angel Flight, we have incoming MSSRs. Please respond and intercept. Repeat, Angel Flight, we have incoming MSSRs. Please respond immediately!”
When the signal reached Gabe, he jerked in surprise. He spun to find six MSSRs speeding toward Deliverance, their tetherdrives at maximum power.
The rig fight had been going well. Angel-Three had taken a shot to the leg that had caused a little damage, and Allen had taken a few glancing hits that had burned armor away, but the new armor had delivered on its promise as well. The CTRs had allowed them to outperform their opponents on virtually every level, and out of the five rigs that had survived the first pass, only two remained.
The rigs closing on the fleet, however, presented a new challenge. Unless they moved quickly, the enemy would be on the cruisers. From what he could see of Deliverance’s burned armor, the flagship wasn’t going to stand that kind of assault for long. He had a choice, and it was one he wasn’t excited about at all. Gabe activated his communications. “Angel-One to Angel-Two, break off and form up on me. Three and Four, keep after the two here and then come after us.” He started toward the distant flight of MSSRs. Allen slid in behind him as he accelerated.
They had made it halfway to the enemy rigs when six bursts of fire raced back at him. He went evasive, dodging back and forth as the fire increased. “Two, go to missiles.”
He settled his sights over one of the distant rigs and shrugged. The signal to the interface activated the twin missiles set on his rig’s shoulders, shooting them toward the MSSR ahead of him. The rig almost immediately began firing at the two projectiles, and Gabe switched to a second target and started firing his pulse rifle as well, hoping for a lucky hit or two to even the odds. Allen added his own missile fire to the mix, forcing another rig to switch to targeting the projectiles instead of defending Gabe’s target.
With two of their number already dodging missiles and a third under heavy fire, the MSSRs’ return shots were considerably reduced. At the same time, that did not suddenly make them blind. A plasma shot connected with Gabe’s stomach, spreading a burst of pain across his torso. Another clipped his shoulder, knocking the empty missile launcher there from its perch. He heard Allen curse as his rig suffered damage, and prayed that the rigs would hold up under the barrage of fire. They only needed to keep the rigs off the cruisers long enough for the crews to restore their shields, or reduce their number sufficiently so that the Deliverance could survive their attack.
The latter goal grew closer as one of the missiles caught up with his initial target; the projectile ripped the arm from the machine and sent it spinning through the black. Allen caught their mutual second target with a shot to the faceplate that cut the controls. The rig jerked spasmodically before it went horribly still, a giant metal corpse hurtling through space to nowhere in particular.
All four of the remaining MSSRs increased their speed and their rate of fire, forcing Gabe to dodge rather than continuing to whittle down their numbers. They managed to keep up that fire until they were forced to begin evading shots from the cruisers. Gabe had to avoid cruiser’s shots as well, and he tensed as one cannon blast sped by him at close range. “Angel-One to Deliverance, check your fire! We want to help, but getting shot really kinda hurts.”
Delacourt’s voice answered him. “Then I would recommend dodging, Angel-One.”
Captain Ndiwge’s voice cut through his initial urge to respond to her. “Deliverance to Angel-One, we will avoid any unnecessary shots in your direction. Keep them from going topside.”
“Confirmed, Deliverance.” Gabe continued his evasive course through the bursts of plasma fire. Aside from the occasional snap shot, he had no real opportunity to fire on any more of the enemy.
Then, all at once, the fire from Deliverance cut off. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. Panic tumbled through Gabe as he wondered what malfunction could have happened now. He pictured the enemy rigs making firing runs on the cruiser, imagined it burning and dead as its protection failed. Gabe fired frantically at the enemy, praying that the Lord would guide his shots home even as the MSSRs began their first firing run on the damaged topside of the cruiser.
“Angel-One, Angel-Two, break off immediately! Repeat, break off now!”
The urgency in Delacourt’s tone told Gabe it would be a very good idea to evade. He jerked to the side, hoping that whatever madness the admiral had planned would not catch up to him this time. His prayers were once again answered as the Samar-class escorts tore down on the unsuspecting MSSRs, firing bursts of plasma and sweeping their courses with particle cannon. All four rigs vanished in violent explosions, and the cruisers were suddenly clear. A quick check of the area showed that Angel-Three and Four were both inbound, though they were limping badly, and no MSSRs were left functional.
He discovered he was panting, and he resisted the urge to swipe at imaginary sweat on his face. Gabe triggered his transmitter. “All MSSRs are clear, Command. Thanks for the advance warning. Again.”
Susan winced as Captain Gabriel’s voice came over the communications net. There had been no avoiding the close call; she had needed the MSSRs focused on the pursuit from behind, not thinking about the escorts above. Any warning to Gabriel would have risked warning the MSSRs, and they had needed to destroy them in one clean sweep for the fleet to avoid further danger.
The battle was not over, however. Seeing that their gambit had failed, the three last ships were now turning back to engage the flotilla. Allowing them to do so would not be a good idea; though their guns were likely weaker than their companions’, the escorts could still do damage. The injuries to Deliverance were bad enough, and she was sure Gabriel would have plenty to say about the hurts his CTRs had endured. Avoiding any further casualties was a high priority.
Then the projection changed, with the signals from the remaining enemy craft growing sharp and distinct. Another communications signal came in. “This is Eyes-Two. I have targeting lasers sighted and active. Repeat, all three targets are lined up.”
The projection zoomed in to show a closer view of the three ships. All carried strange racks along their undersides, obviously the makeshift hangers they had used to ferry the flight of MSSRs into battle. Distance, velocity, and vector filled in values along each of the three ships as Eyes-Two fed the cruisers the information.
Captain Ndigwe turned and raised an eyebrow. “Admiral? We are able to target them, but our reduced firepower will make less of an impression.”
“I know, Captain.” Susan let out a short breath. “Focus plasma cannon fire on target 2-1. Eyes-Two will provide targeting data on the 2-2 and 2-3 for a missile lock. We launch the moment they acquire their signatures.”
Ndigwe’s eyes widened only slightly, but then the escort craft fired. With the shields down, the shots hit hard enough to cause the ship to sway slightly; both Susan and Ndigwe had to reach out and steady themselves on their consoles. The captain’s eyes hardened and she nodded. “Of course, ma’am.” She turned gave the orders.
Susan turned her attention back to the projection, watching as her timer counted down. All seven Wayfarer ships opened fire as the three ships ran. Plasma bursts rained down on 2-1’s aft section, punching wearing away at the defense screens that protected it. As the barrage continued, the shields buckled under the strain and plasma began to burn its way through layers of armor to the hull. Its tetherdrive failed, and the remainder of the salvo chewed the escort apart.
What happened to the other escort craft moments later was far more sudden. Two Mark Nine Javelin missiles launched from the Deliverance, curving around to intercept both ships. The Javelins closed easily with their targets, evaded all attempts at counterfire and detonated upon contact with their defensive screens. Unfortunately for the Outriders, the Mark Nines were not the same as the fairly normal thermonuclear warheads launched at the Battle of New Sonora. Those missiles, while potent, would only have caused minor damage to the ships they had struck. By comparison, both remaining escorts were engulfed in annihilating waves of destruction that swept over and past them, leaving only broken hulls and shattered hopes in their wake.
For a moment, the bridge was silent. Then she touched her communications controls to signal the entire fleet. “Command to all units, begin recovery operations. All rigs return to the Deliverance. Healing, stand by for transfer of casualties and prisoners. Medic, Gilead, Hammer, Anvil, recon the wrecks for survivors and escape pods.
All other units, effect combat repairs and change course to ten-eight-six. We will close with the enemy facility and put an end to this.” She paused, allowing herself a quiet smile. “Congratulations, flotilla, we are victorious.”
There was a momentary pause. Then cheers broke out among the bridge crew, along with whispered prayers of thanks. Captain Ndigwe walked over to her and shook her hand. “Congratulations to you too, Admiral.” Susan nodded and turned to the projection. Acknowledgements came to her from the various ships and she sat back to examine the battleground of her first victory. It was not nearly as satisfying as she had hoped.
Then she switched her projection back to the image of the asteroid complex and smiled. After all, she was not quite finished yet.
Things were not looking well for the Outriders by the time the flotilla reached them two hours later. That fact alone made Gabe want to dance.
Eyes-Two had returned to Deliverance to rest, but Eyes-One had volunteered to act as recon again for the final phase of the assault. The RSR was providing excellent data on the remaining defenses available to their foes. A guest on Deliverance’s command bridge, Gabe had been invited to see the results of the action so far for himself.
The first defense station, the one Angel Flight had strafed on the way in, looked as if it had already been completely wrecked. Plasma bursts had gouged holes in the rock and left bunkers as melted, bombed-out craters. The launch facility itself looked little better; burned-out holes were all that remained of the rig hangers, and the few remaining intact weapons bunkers seemed to have been abandoned. Shuttles were racing back and forth between the facility and the two undamaged stations, ferrying personnel to safer areas while the Outriders made what few remaining preparations remained to them.
As the ships drew close, they slowed to a stop. Admiral Delacourt had given that order in the hopes that she could engage the stations one at a time. It was a smart enough move since the rocks couldn’t exactly chase them, but he still didn’t like the feeling of simply sitting around. He felt too much like a sitting duck just waiting for the hunter to shoot.
His misgivings were justified a moment later when the defense station opened fire. Plasma shots raced out to wash over the Deliverance’s defense screens. The resulting damage was not serious—the armor plating had completely absorbed what little fire managed to make it through the defensive screens—but it was still worse than he would have liked.
In response, the flotilla opened fire on the station. The defense screens imploded as if they were a popped balloon, and plasma burst through to drill into the surface. Bunkers died in flashes of fire while the shooting from the station came to an abrupt halt. Wave after wave of plasma bursts slammed into the stone, and the station writhed in the deadly barrage. By the time the flotilla’s guns fell silent, the asteroid was a smoldering tomb for the Outriders within it.
In her command chair, Delacourt let out a small breath and tapped a new command into her console. “This is Admiral Susan Delacourt of the Wayfarer Defense Force. You can either surrender now, or be destroyed along with your comrades. The choice is up to you.”
It did not take long to receive a response; Gabe imagined the previous display of firepower would be more than enough to guarantee what it would be. The man who answered was wearing an unfamiliar uniform, and his face was coated with a sheen of nervous sweat. He exuded an aura of palpable fear. “This is Commander Richins. Cease fire, we surrender!”
Gabe watched as she sat back with a satisfied air and tapped a control. “Command to all forces, cease fire. The enemy has surrendered. Repeat, the enemy has—”
Explosions ripped through the asteroids, gutting every single one of them with thermonuclear fire. The crippled defense platform disappeared in waves of debris, while the launch facility itself seemed to disintegrate more slowly with successive detonations. Susan’s eyes widened at the destruction, and she transmitted again. “I said cease fire! Who fired on them?”
Gabe answered her, some of the horror he felt leaching into his voice. “Nobody fired. Those looked like self-destruct charges to me. Someone had to have triggered them onboard.”
A signal reached them a moment later. “Eyes-One to Command. It looks like those explosions came from within the facility. There are some blasts from where the escorts had been deployed as well. All of them had to have been rigged to blow.”
The information horrified obviously horrified the admiral. She sat back in her chair and watched in stunned silence as more explosions tore the launch facility to pieces. By the time they finally faded, the entire group of rocks had been reduced to floating debris, with only scrap metal and wreckage to testify that they had been inhabited at all. Susan shook her head, and Gabe spoke low so that his voice would not carry to the others. “They did it to themselves, Susan. It was not your fault.”
She turned to look back at him, and for a moment her eyes searched his. Then she nodded slowly and activated her communications console. Her voice still carried some portion of the revulsion she had to be feeling inside.
“All units, attempt to salvage pieces of the Outrider units. We need information, and there might be some survivors still.” Gabe nodded. There was no way anyone had survived, but she was right to try. It was what he would have done. “Proceed with caution; there may still be traps in the debris…” Her words faded into the background as Gabe realized, for the first time, that his home was finally safe. There was no chance of an asteroid falling on the city, no chance that the enemy would be able to put together another facility like this one soon.
Yet Gabe knew the war against the Outriders was far from over. The men responsible for this facility had surely not died in those explosions; no schemer would sacrifice themselves just to preserve a little mystery. There were still enemies hunting them, and they would have more work to do in the future. He watched as the ships moved forward, and wondered what new challenges the Lord would bring them when they returned to New Sonora. With all his soul, Gabe prayed they would be able to withstand them as well as they had this one.