Broken Halo (Wayfarers) Page 7

  Gabe tried not to grit his teeth in frustration.

  He’d reached his rig in fairly good time, considering he’d been dragged out of bed from a dead sleep, but Derek and his Paladins had been the squadron on alert status, and they were the ones already heading for combat. Gabe itched to join them, but he knew that unless things changed, he might never launch. If Delacourt wanted to retreat rather than to fight, the fewer rig squadrons she launched, the better. Every rig she put in space would be another rig she would have to either gather up or abandon when she left the system.

  Of course, knowing that didn’t make it one bit easier to sit in his CTR and wait. He’d already settled into his seat and connected to the BCI, so he could hear the signals coming in from the distant RSRs as they tried to fall back. Gabe felt himself growing more and more tense as the uneven battle continued.

  “Eyes-Four, you’ve got two on you! Juke to port and I’ll clear them.”

  “Negative, Eyes-Nine. I can hold them off. You worry about yours …” The signal ended in a burst of static.

  “Eyes-Ten to Eyes-Nine, is Four still there?”

  “Confirmed, Ten. She just took a hit to her comm array. Still maneuvering. I can—” This time the signal ended with a sudden scream.

  “Eyes-Nine? Eyes-Nine!”

  Gabe closed his eyes, knowing that one of the RSR pilots wouldn’t be making it home. He prayed that the Lord would help Derek and the other CTRs to reach the scout pilots before more of them were killed, and he prayed that they would all be able to reach safety before something else went wrong.

  Captain Wong stood on the bridge of the Imperious and monitored the skirmish taking place below the task force with satisfaction.

  Combat had not entirely been expected within this system; in fact, when the task force had originally entered the area, he’d expected to find yet another burst-point signal rather than their prey. The appearance of enemy scouts had dispelled that worry, however, and his pilots were now harrying the hapless fools back to their carrier. He was slightly disappointed that Delacourt had not offered a more difficult challenge, but he and the rest of his fleet would be glad to end this hunt at last.

  Wong watched as another enemy rig fell victim to his pilots and frowned. He touched a control. “Imperious to I-Five. You’ve been instructed to track them back to their fleet, not destroy them. Do not kill them all until you have further instructions from the flagship.”

  The pilots’ response came a moment later. “Confirmed, Imperious. I-Five will continue to exercise restricted fire control.”

  Frustration had laced the pilot’s reply, and Wong’s frown deepened further at such a display of lax discipline. He felt heavily tempted to order the squadron commander back to base for immediate evaluation, but an amused chuckle restrained his impulse.

  Admiral Nevlin had entered the bridge, his uniform sharply pressed. “Do not scowl, Captain. Such a fighting spirit can be put to excellent use soon enough.” The admiral glanced at the main display. “Do we have contact with their main force yet?”

  Wong braced to attention. “No, sir. We are still tracking their scouts and should have a location soon. The Imperious, the Oheawai, the Pavlov, and the Sihang are all preparing WGC squadrons to make heavy attacks against enemy cruisers. The Fisher King has also signaled that the SSS squadron is ready to perform escort missions for our assault rigs once the enemy is found.”

  “Good.” The admiral stared at the pair of red dots representing the enemy scouts. “I assume that we have already altered course to follow them, then.”

  “We have, Admiral.” Wong glanced at his navigation watchstander, who gave an imperceptible nod. “Our task force is already forming up, and we should be within range of the enemy before they have a chance to escape.” He motioned to where the cruisers and carriers of the fleet were diving back toward the enemy scouts. “I’ve also deployed a picket screen of rigs to prevent any unforeseen problems.”

  “Excellent.” Admiral Nevlin gave a faint smile. “If only we’d had such equipment with us when I was on the Victorious. It would have made dealing with the pirates there so much easier.”

  Wong nodded. He gestured to the command deck in invitation. “Admiral, if you wish to direct the battle from here, I would be honored.”

  To Wong’s surprise, Admiral Nevlin waved off the invitation with a casual air. “No, Captain, I entrust this engagement entirely to you. I will monitor your operation from the flag deck. If I have questions for you, I will be in direct contact with you over the comm system.” He raised his hand as if gesturing with a wine glass. “To victory, Captain!”

  Uncertain and wary, Wong bowed slightly. “To victory, Admiral. We will not fail you.” He straightened to watch the admiral stroll off the bridge, his gait unworried. Wong had been monitored from the flag deck before; as a major carrier, the Imperious had served many times as the flagship for a Directorate squadron on the front lines, and her layout had been set up with that function in mind. From the flag deck, a group commander could easily monitor the actions of any of the ships under his command and give direction as needed.

  Yet Wong had always found it more reassuring to have the flag officer actually on the Imperious’ bridge itself. There was something more inspiring about having the admiral on deck, as if the group commander had decided to take part in the battle amongst the rest of the men and women of the fleet. Perhaps it also eroded the image of admirals who spent their time locked away in offices, frittering away their time with meetings and management instead of leading fleets to victory. There was a general consensus among flag captains throughout the fleet that an admiral who chose the flag deck was too disconnected, too self-absorbed to lead properly, and that their lack of firsthand participation would cause the Directorate ships under their command to suffer.

  Whatever the cause, Wong had tolerated the less-than-admirable actions of many officers who had commanded from the flag deck, but he had far from enjoyed it. He was still working through his surprise over the fact that Admiral Nevlin had chosen such a stance during the engagement when an alert throbbed through the command deck. Wong turned sharply, setting his worries aside, and addressed his watchstander.

  “Lieutenant Gavin. Our sensors have made contact?”

  The junior officer did not seem enthusiastic. “No, sir. We were scanned by enemy units crossing at maximum range from our defensive perimeter. I-Three has signaled that they are ready to pursue.”

  Wong shook his head. “No. Keep our rigs close by; the enemy may just be trying to divert us from their own scouts. Besides, it looks as if their speed is too high for our units to intercept.” He settled his eyes on the remaining enemy scouts, surrounded and harassed by his interceptors. “Let them have their peek at our fleet. Perhaps it will prepare them for the reckoning soon to come.”

  Susan’s breath caught as the first readings from Eyes-One came in, and not just because it seemed like the RSR’s daring pass had not attracted any pursuit. The sheer size of the fleet bearing down on the Wayfarers was astounding. It was almost as if the Directorate had expected to encounter a Wild Colonies battle group in support of the refugee ships rather than the small task force she had at her disposal.

  Her first response was instantaneous, almost instinctive. If the enemy was sending out that many WGCs, more could be right on their heels. Her ships needed a defensive screen as much as the RSRs did. “Launch Angel Squadron. Angels, remain on proximity patrols. Watch for incoming WGCs. Paladin Squadron, hit the WGCs and then fall back with Eyes Squadron. All rigs, watch for enemy reinforcements.”

  Susan shook her head to clear it and triggered a fleetwide signal. “This is the Concord to all ships. Assume resonance cascade formation and establish gravitic links with the Concord. We are facing an overwhelming force that we have no chance to defeat. Retreat is our only option.” Susan paused and drew in a breath to finish a sentence she did not want to finish. “Any ship not following this order will be left behind. Concord out.” />
  Almost immediately, the console lit up with incoming signals, but Susan let her communications watchstander handle the majority of them. The only signal that truly concerned her came from the Summer Rain. She answered it with a feeling of trepidation, but she had no other options. It was either run or die.

  Elder Miller’s face appeared above her console. He looked fearful. “Admiral, I received your message. You are sure that the entire fleet needs to leave?”

  “Absolutely.” When she saw hesitation on his face, Susan continued in a hard voice. “Elder Miller, the Directorate has sent nearly twenty ships to destroy us here, including a frontline carrier. Our rig pilots are already in combat, but as soon as I can recover them, we need to leave. Now.”

  Elder Miller still seemed reluctant, but he nodded. “Very well, Admiral. I will trust in your judgment. The fleet will form up and begin to prepare for the resonance cascade.” Then he paused. “Admiral, do you think we can escape?”

  Susan looked away for a moment, studying the main display while she organized her thoughts. Finally, she came to a grudging conclusion. “It is still possible. The Directorate ships are far enough away that we can avoid direct combat, and their rigs will not have time for multiple passes against us.”

  She paused, and then shook her head. “At the same time, Elder, it isn’t likely that we can escape them forever, not as things stand. If the Directorate has bothered to send any force after us at all, it’s very likely that they have orders to pursue us wherever we go. Sooner or later, they may catch up with us. We can make it to the fallback system, but we will need to be prepared for when they follow us.”

  Elder Miller looked grim. “You’re right, Admiral. I’ll consult with the others here, and we’ll try to come up with a plan. Thank you for your assessment.”

  Susan met his eyes. “Don’t thank me, Elder Miller. We’re not out of this yet.”

  He smiled. “I have every confidence that we will be soon. Elder Miller out.”

  Chapter Five

  Just after launch, Gabe saw the Paladins make contact with the incoming enemy rigs. He grunted in satisfaction as the WGCs pulled back, driven away from the scouts by the arrival of Derek’s squadron. Plasma bursts sparkled against the backdrop of empty space and burning stars, and he saw a couple of hits among the Directorate fighters.

  He magnified his view and caught sight of one of the WGCs. As the details resolved themselves, Gabe grunted in satisfaction. The WGC was a military-specialized rig, and had been designed with maximum flexibility in mind. Its basic underlying frame was about the same as the CTR, though the helmet was rounder and the optical sensors had been packed in behind a visor-like window. Its tetherdrive system was a little less powerful than the CTR, though it had much more power storage and endurance, from what Gabe had learned.

  The difference was in the design strategy. Every part of the enemy rig was littered with hardpoints where weapons and other equipment could be loaded on. Unlike the CTR, which had been built specifically for rig combat, or RSRs, which were always meant to be infiltrators and scouts, the WGC had no defined role. A WGC could fly one mission with a loadout to optimize combat against rigs, return to its carrier, and be refitted for a heavy attack against cruisers within fifteen minutes of arrival. Gabe had heard one story which told of a single WGC squadron locating an enemy flotilla with recon equipment, refitting to clear the enemy fleet of rig escorts, and changing weapons one last time to perform a bombing strike on their flagship.

  These WGCs had obviously been equipped for speed and firepower. Extra tetherdrive units had been latched onto their legs, supplementing their main drives, and every one of the WGCs carried a long plasma rifle. Unless Gabe missed his guess entirely, it was a Walther Grade .25 repeating gun, which meant it had a high rate of fire, but low armor penetration. The bursts of plasma spraying across the CTRs’ vectors confirmed his guess, and he cleared his throat to open a channel to Derek. “Angel-One to Paladin-One-Five. Do you need any help in there?”

  Derek’s voice came back clear and confident. “Negative, Angel-Lead. Keep your distance and we’ll handle these guys.” The other rig pilot matched actions to words, and Gabe saw another WGC take a hit and spiral out of control. “Too many brawlers might make it hard to aim anyway.”

  Gabe grunted. “Confirmed, Paladin-One-Five.” He glanced around at his own squadron, still keeping station with the rest of the fleet. “Keep your eyes open, Angels. We don’t know how many more of them might be out there.”

  As the other pilots acknowledged his orders, Gabe saw the rest of the fleet beginning to form up for the resonance burst. The civilian ships were extending gravitic tethers to each other, linking up in a complex web of forces meant to hold them together through the violence of the resonance burst. At the center of that web lay the Concord, whose resonance drive was the only way the fleet could escape the system at all.

  The rest of the military craft had deployed ahead of the others, forming a solid screen against the incoming enemy ships, but they were just as careful not to move too far forward. Any ship that didn’t have their tetherdrives connected to the web of gravitics behind them was going to be left behind—and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what plans the Directorate had in mind for the stragglers.

  A glint of light caught Gabe’s attention, and he looked back in time to see a contact flicker at the edge of his vision. He focused on that contact and zoomed in, his heart beating hard in his chest. For a moment, he thought it could be one of the mysterious rigs who had been haunting his dreams. Then the details resolved themselves, and he signaled the others nearby. “This is Angel-One. I have a WGC scout in sight. I guess the fighters weren’t the only ones coming out to visit.”

  Susan’s voice came back over the comm net. “Command to Angel-One, report confirmed. Watch for further contacts and keep the enemy rigs from flanking Paladin Squadron. Do not, repeat, do not pursue the enemy. We can’t afford to wait for you to be picked up.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Confirmed, Command. Eyes Squadron is en route.” The last few rigs from the RSR patrols were passing his CTRs now, some of them showing the burns of combat. They skittered past his patrol on their way to the Concord’s recovery bays, not pausing for an instant. As the last of them slipped inside the carrier, Susan’s voice came across the net again.

  “Paladin Squadron, fall back to the Concord. Angels Squadron will cover your retreat while you get aboard the carrier. Watch for a last-minute push. Angels Squadron, on my mark you’re going to have to fall back to the recovery bays as well. Don’t hesitate; it’s going to be close.”

  Gabe smiled. “Confirmed, Command. Paladins, get back here. We’ll keep them off your backs.”

  “We won’t keep anyone waiting, Angel-Lead. Falling back.”

  For a moment, the WGCs seemed content to let Derek and his fellow CTRs break off. They scattered a little further away from the fleet, as if trying to put distance between them and their erstwhile opponents.

  Then they abruptly changed course and blasted in toward the retreating Paladins. Gabe’s breath caught as a second batch of WGCs roared in right behind them. These units had been much more heavily armed; each carried a pair of Tsushima Grade .5 repeaters, along with a rack of missiles on their back. Plasma bursts filled the void with light and fury, and Derek’s CTRs dodged and danced away from the attack.

  Gabe pushed his rig forward, charging the incoming WGCs. He placed his sights over the nearest target, letting the plasma rifle in his hands heat up. As the rig came into range, he pulled the trigger and sent two bursts at it. The WGC juked to the side, but he anticipated the move and settled the sights over it again. His second pair of shots slammed into its torso, cutting through the armor and detonating it in a single blast. “Get clear, Paladins. We’ll handle these guys.”

  Derek and his remaining pilots did not respond. Instead, they all flocked toward the Concord. In full pursuit, the WGCs flashed past the Angels, passing Gabe’s squadron by for
a shot at the retreating Paladins. Gabe waited until the Directorate pilots were all trapped between the two squadrons of CTRs, and then smiled. “Paladins, Angels, roll and engage the enemy. Hit ‘em hard!”

  He heard Derek whoop with excitement as both squadrons poured plasma bursts into the mass of enemy rigs. Surrounded, the WGCs were caught off guard by the crossfire. Rig after rig exploded or pinwheeled away, crippled by plasma fire. Nearly half of them were down before the remainder reversed their acceleration, leaving the Paladins to continue their own withdrawal in peace. Gabe rolled to keep his eyes on the WGCs as they retreated. He made sure to keep dodging to present a more difficult target. “Angel-One to Squadron. Don’t let them draw you out too far. There may be more of them out there, and we don’t want to be pulled out of position.”

  For a moment, it once again looked like the WGCs were going to break off the combat and withdraw. Then they boiled forward again, weapons flashing. Gabe smiled and lined up another shot. If all the Directorate had were these fools, the battle was going to be fairly easy after all.

  “Captain Wong, why have you not yet ordered the assault to begin?”

  The question surprised Wong, and he looked at the nearest console to find Admiral Nevlin staring out at him from the display. He bowed slightly. “Admiral, I am not convinced that this fleet represents their full force.”

  Nevlin frowned. “You’re saying there are more of them? On top of the fleet we have already located?”