Chapter Twenty

Breach and Clear: Part Three

The Queen’s Wrath was an incredible ship, but it was not exactly built to last. Before she had finished the second engagement, it was already starting to fail. The power pathways on the Orb ships were just not designed to carry the kind of power that a cruiser used.

One by one, the Orbs were burning out, but it was enough to stem the tide a little.

By the time Nellie micro-jumped to the third weak point, she was down to only six Orbs, and the cruiser was more of a heavy destroyer. Still, it was enough to help out.

Appearing off the port flank of the Imperial Line cruiser, Nellie powered forward laser arrays and fired three salvos as she approached. Diving under the counterattack, she slipped beneath the cruiser to attack the escort destroyer, shifting the aft section to open a third engine and shooting out of range before they could get a lock.

The Wrath shuddered as another Orb burned out.

It looked like her fun was almost over, but Nellie was determined to make one more run at the enemy.

Curving back toward the cruiser, Nellie saw they had gotten into formation. The cruiser was sitting in the center of a triangle of destroyers, with weapons trained.

Attacking them now would be suicide.

Which was utterly irrelevant as she wasn’t really here, and the ship was doomed anyway.

Nellie laughed as she formed the entire bow into a reinforced point, engines opening all along the aft and sides and shooting the Wrath forward. The Line ships fired madly, and her shields were shredded away, but it was too slow.

The bow slammed into the cruiser, piercing the armor plating like butter.

Nellie blinked as nanites flowed out into the ship's control systems and found the cruiser's weapons systems under her control. She opened fire on the destroyers as she reached out and pushed the nanites into the rest of the ship.

The crew fought her for control, but she was able to vent compartments until they were all penned in the galley with the doors sealed and locked. Nellie installed her new software suite in the computers, set it to seek and destroy, and released control.

Nellie merged back into the rest of herself, seeing the entire system laid out around her again.

The Talon was still fighting, but it was down to a single enemy cruiser. Two of the three destroyer escorts were assisting Crush now. The last one was a drifting field of debris. Checking the Talon over, Nellie saw it was damaged but in no danger of failure.

Her improvised program was operating on converted ships all over the system. In all, they had added more than ten cruisers to their forces, with another eleven drifting with critical damage, ready to be salvaged if they could keep control of the system.

“Queen, requesting aid!” Boon called, and she turned to see the Sparklight under attack by seven cruisers as they defended the twelve o’clock jump point. The carrier was already heavily damaged from its battle with the Capital ships and the escort cruisers, so Boone and the crew were in no position to hold out for long.

None of the converted ships were capable of micro jumps without serious upgrades to their computing systems, but she hadn’t included jump calculations programming anyway.

“Boone, how many Orb craft do you have remaining?” Nellie replied.

“We still have all twenty, Admiral,” Boone replied, the sound of alarms echoing in the bridge behind him, almost drowning the transmission.

“Hold on, Boone,” Nellie said grimly.

“Holding on, Admiral!”

Nellie reached out and took control of the orbs, shooting them out of the launch tubes and forming them into destroyers by fusing five Orbs at a time. Her head ached as she forced herself to split into four separate versions, one to pilot each destroyer. Her improvised program would never be able to hold them together long enough.

Flying with every drop of will and determination, Nellie and Boone fought to keep the carrier and crew alive.

“HERE COMES THE CHARGE!” Boone roared what felt like hours later but was only twenty minutes. The Carrier had lost the ability to maneuver, and only the two remaining Orb destroyers were covering the rear when a huge flash blanked the sensors and left the Vey’s Charge in the middle of the enemy formation.

Its twin rail guns fired, and an enemy cruiser began to tumble before a bright glow heralded a beam weapon charging.

It flashed out, cutting two more cruisers in half with a single, blinding shot.

Salem’s voice blared on an open channel to all ships.

“So die ALL who threaten the Imperium!” Salem sounded strange, her voice echoing, “Herald to all ships, DEVOUR!”

Nellie gasped as she felt the converted ships begin blind charges at the nearest enemy vessels, effectively becoming ballistic rounds.

That was it, and the last organized attacking wings turned and fled for the jump points.

“NO ESCAPE!” Salem roared, and the mines around the jump points began to detonate as the fleeing ships tried to pass.

“I believe we can manage now, Admiral,” Boone offered. “Perhaps some rest would be advisable in case they return soon?”

Nellie agreed, releasing what was left of the Orb destroyers and pulling back, issuing patrol orders, and calling all damaged ships back to the Rest for resupply and repairs.

The converted ships and salvage would have to wait a few hours.

They were going to need a bigger station.

Nellie groaned as she slammed back into her body, the transition a little jarring as she stumbled out of the throne.

Turning to look at Salem, Nellie told her to bring the Charge home and release it.

For ten minutes, she sat on the steps and waited, trying to resist the urge to contact the system again.

It was a heady feeling, being everywhere at once. You saw so much and were everywhere, but you were also nowhere. Too long in that state, and Nellie worried she might never come back.

Not all the way.

Even the two relatively brief uses of the throne permanently altered how she saw the world. Nellie was worried that spending too much time there would also change how she saw people. They would become just like those ship icons Nellie had been flinging around the system. Assets. Useful, but nothing she would miss if they didn’t return.

If that happened, she just wouldn’t be Nellie anymore.

Salem jerked as she exited the throne, eyes wide and blinking way too rapidly.

Nellie talked her down, holding the woman until she once more resembled her usual perfectionist self.

“I may have gotten a touch carried away,” Salem said after a moment. “It is a strange feeling, being a Capital ship.” Looking down at her hands, and flexed them slowly. “I feel…”

“Fragile?” Nellie asked.

“Yes!” Salem cried in relief. “Like I might snap. This body is just so… small.”

“The feeling fades,” Nellie told her. “In a couple of hours or days, you won’t feel much different than you did before.”

“Thank you,” Salem sagged in relief. “Did I-did I do okay?”

“Salem,” Nellie smiled. “You did brilliantly. Not only did you and Baz save the Sparklight, but your thrones just saved the entire system.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Really?” Salem asked, a proud smile on her face as she stood a little taller.

“Mark the date and time,” Nellie nodded. “Because today, with no Lucy and no thrones, we would all have died.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Salem smiled. “It’s not over, though. Is it?”

“No, Salem,” Nellie shook her head, “They got what they wanted; some of those ships landed, some dropped off troops, and some are still hiding out there.”

“So we lost?” Salem asked.

“Not entirely,” Nellie consoled her. “We have a ton of new ships and materials to scavenge, and every bit of it came at a huge cost to the Imperial Line.”

“What about the interlopers?” Salem asked.

“There are rats in the corn,” Nellie said tiredly. “So after we get some sleep and repair our ships, we are going hunting.”

===<<<>>>===

Cheape downed her fifth cup of HyperDrive this shift in a single, long swallow and slapped her cup down onto the desk.

It was too much to ask to take longer than ten seconds at the moment, but she would take that long at least.

“Tell me again,” she said to Prim.

“Fifty-three ships of the Line and Ten Suns fleets invaded the system in a coordinated strike. Of those, thirty were light cruisers or above. The remaining twenty-three were heavy destroyers or escort destroyers.” Prim said cheerfully, brushing a speck of dust off her new Logistics Officer flight suit. Cheape had insisted on the uniforms, cent or not. Also, it made it easier to tell them apart from the other cents running around. “Eleven ships later withdrew from the system, with four more listed as missing or hiding in the system at the moment.”

“And how many were ‘converted,’ was it?” Cheape asked.

“As I understand it, we converted eleven cruisers, with ten more lying derelict. In addition, we now have two and a half capital ships.” Prim nodded.

“Half a capital ship?” Cheape asked.

“The front half is no longer… there?” Prim cocked her metal head to one side. “It failed to dodge a beam weapon.”

“What about the crews onboard?” Cheape asked. “That is a lot of personnel to house, even as prisoners.”

“There are only a few hundred prisoners,” Prim sniffed. “They will be loaded into a single cruiser and sent back through the jump point we are calling ‘Twelve’ at the moment.”

“They’ll be destroyed the moment they exit Transit Space.” Cheape pointed out.

“Oh me, oh my, what a pity,” Prim said blandly. “Oh, well.”

“What happened to the rest of the crews?” Cheape asked, like someone picking at a wound. You know it is going to hurt, but you do it anyway.

“They failed to adapt,” Prim shrugged.

“To what?” Cheape asked.

“Living in a vacuum,” Sec sniggered. “Dying in a vacuum, they mastered almost immediately.”

Cheape rubbed her temples to push away the tension headache and decided her break time was up.

It was time to get back to resupplying the Imperium Fleet.

Which was apparently twice the size it was this morning.

And her whole department was five people.

“Someone get me more HyperDrive,” Cheape groaned and marched for the docking bays.

===<<<>>>===

Hardwicke had thought to himself when ordering the mission to begin that the cost would be high, but if they could establish a base…

“Say it again, Stibbert,” Hardwicke grinned as he spun his chair around to face his old friend.

“We have confirmation of successful landings in five places, Grand Shareholder Hardwicke,” Stibbert said, rolling his eyes. “Do we do this for the fourth time, or do I get to tell you where?”

“Learn to enjoy the successes that matter, Stibbert, less you miss the opportunity for joy,” Hardwicke teased. “But go on and tell me where our new forward bases are being established.”

“There are three base teams at three separate points within the asteroid belt,” Stibbert said levelly, “Two have a cruiser for support, and the third has a destroyer.”

“Excellent,” Hardwicke felt a fierce satisfaction. Monsoon might not get to kill him after all.

“We also have a base on the eighth moon of the gas giant, the fifth planetary body in the system, not the sixth, Sir,” Stibbert went on. “It also has a cruiser, but it is going to need repairs.”

“This is a good day,” Hardwicke couldn’t contain his enthusiasm and got to his feet, pacing around in the day cabin as his Assitant continued.

“Finally, we were able to deposit a significant number of supplies and personnel in the habitable world, the third planet in the system. They are near an unusual mountain range that makes a handy reference point. It is apparently colored like a rainbow, Sir.” Stibbert offered. “The two cruisers used were both disabled and so they will convert them into a larger base and perhaps a small planetary-based weapons platform, Sir.”

“A good day indeed!” Hardwicke laughed. “Now, shall we turn to the matter of losses?”

Hardwicke looked at the list of ships three times and still did not believe what he was seeing.

“Correct me if I am wrong, Mister Stibbert,” Hardwicke said distantly, a ringing sounding in his ears, “But in order to minimize losses, we went with a strategy of… what was it?”

“Overwhelming force was the order, Sir,” Stibbert said, scratching at one ear.

“And to that end, we sent in fifty-two ships,” Hardwicke noted, the ringing getting louder.

“Correct, Sir,” Stibbert agreed.

“We made that choice based not on the expected strength, which was about five enemy ships, but according to… what was it again, Stibbert?”

“The worst case scenario, Sir,” Stibbert coughed. “As we understood the term.”

“And we recovered a grand total of eleven ships, Mister Stibbert,” Hardwicke said calmly as he snapped the data tablet in half and threw the two halves away. “At least half of which were from the Ten Suns fleet.”

“Correct, Sir,” Stibbert said gravely.

“Oh, look, Mister Stibbert,” Hardwicke laughed as he looked over the scan data on the Imperium ships. “They have a Carrier! HOW NICE FOR THEM!”

“It does, in fact, get worse, Sir,” Stibbert added coldly.

“How?” Hardwicke asked. “How can it possibly get worse?”

“Several of our disabled ships later rejoined the fight, Sir,” Stibbert added.

“And that is bad news, why?” Hardwicke asked.

“They rejoined the fight by assisting the Imperium, Sir. And not a single life sign showed when they did so.” Stibbert swallowed hard.

“So, to sum it up,” Hardwicke said with a bright smile. “We have lost a FIFTH of our forces in this mission and DOUBLED the enemy's strength?”

“We should invade now, Sir,” Stibbert stepped forward, “Now. Today. This second! All our fleet, BOTH fleets, and destroy them!”

“An excellent suggestion, Mister Stibbert!” Hardwicke roared. “Brilliant! I just have one small problem with it!”

“What?” Stibbert roared back.

“It would make the company look weak, Mister Stibbert! They would kill us both, Mister Stibbert!” Hardwicke loomed over his friend.

“They might do that just for this! Sir!” Stibbert roared up at him.

“Quite,” Hardwicke deflated. “So we better not admit to it.”

“Sir?” Stibbert blanched.

“Report half the ships damaged, twelve lost, and the other ships out of communication’s range as they are hidden in-system for raiding attacks,” Hardwicke said, an edge of desperation in his voice. “We’ll bury the loses in fake engagements over the rest of the damn Blockade if we have to.”

“And what about them,” Stibbert gestured at the scan reports. “What about the Imperium?”

“One thing at a time, Mister Stibbert,” Hardwicke said, smoothing his uniform out as he sat. “For the moment, we must worry about being murdered by our friends. The enemy will have to wait their turn at our necks for now.”

“Yes, Sir,” Stibbert agreed stoically.

===<<<>>>===

Major Shareholder Munro was not having a good day.

Unlike most of his fellow Captains, Munro did not actually enjoy space travel. Compared to that, a battle in space was a hair’s breadth above being repeatedly stabbed on his personal list of things to avoid, but when you were a Captain of the Line, you got a higher dividend. As such, he had voluntarily accepted a command in the blockade.

A blockade was, by its very definition, a place where you surrounded a weaker force and starved them of supplies. What it was not, in Munro’s understanding, was belting through a hostile system while trying to avoid being holed by ships that were on your side ten minutes ago!

That was, at the very least, a failure of leadership. A point he intended to make forcefully when the opportunity to talk to Hardwicke presented itself.

Even then, that had been a picnic compared to dropping like a flaming stone through the atmosphere of a planet and crashing into the side of some strange mountains.

So, Munro was not having a good day.

He was, however, delighted with the report that the cruisers were both totaled and would now be broken down to add supplies and reinforcements to the forward base they were assigned to build.

Planets were what Munro liked.

Planets had oxygen, stable ground, and comfort.

Munro had started out his career in the Imperial Line as an engineer, and so he was a natural choice for this mission. A single glance around, and he could see the best place to place a base and the best orientation to keep the most important things and people—like him—best protected by the sturdy rock of the rainbow mountains that seemed to mark this stretch of the continent.

“Report,” he called to Kilravock. The man was built like carven stone and had served the first thirty years of his career in the armies of the highest bidder before being poached by the Imperial Line.

The two made a good pairing because of their shared hatred of space, not to mention that both excelled once they had good, solid ground to stand on.

“We only lost a few dozen people, Sir. All of them shipboard crew.” Kilravock noted in a tone that suggested those who worked the ships were basically useless anyway, “The working parties are intact, as are the supplies, and we have a strength of three hundred and fifty soldiers ready to protect against any wildlife.”

“Any sign of Clutch on this planet?” Munro asked.

“No, Sir. They are on a moon of the neighboring planet, not here.” Kilravock sneered. “At least until we take it back from these Imperium upstarts.”

“What about the power readings we noted when we were—Munro hesitated to say crashing—on approach?”

“They faded after we entered the atmosphere, but I am not worried, sir. It was a very small reading. Nothing we can not handle, I am sure.” Kilravock smiled. “Maybe a chance for a little interrogation if we are lucky.”

“Good,” Munro laced his hands behind his back, “See to the unloading while I decide how to lay everything out.”

“At once, Major Shareholder Munro,” Kilravock nodded and hurried away.

Munro smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.

The worst was over now.