There was a heartbeat’s pause, the cruiser swinging away, Hammond turning to match, railguns firing. Blue fire sparked from the cruiser, impact dissipated by what looked like an energy shield; the Hammond shuddered as the first shots struck her own shields, but a quick glance showed them steady.
“What the hell was that?” Franklin demanded. His hands were already busy on his controls. “It looked like — ”
“Ma’am,” Jarrett said, from comm, “Daedalus reports the hive is shielded.”
“It looks like it’s similar to Asgard shielding,” the duty engineer said. “I’m trying — OK, yes, I’ve got a read on the shield frequency — ”
McKay, Sam thought. This had to be McKay’s work. The cruiser rolled, Chandler turning to present a narrow target. Both ships fired, shields flaring. “What kind of power is it drawing?”
“A lot,” the engineer answered. “They’re slower than I’d expect.”
Sam nodded. That made sense. The problem with Wraith technology was that it lacked a power source sufficient to run both energy shields and hyperdrives; until now, they’d always preferred to rely on the living hull regenerating itself. But if McKay had figured out a way to do both — and that was probably why he’d stolen the ZPM in the first place — No, there were still limits to what the Wraith power plants could do.
“Forward shields at ninety-two percent,” Franklin said.
“Their shields won’t hold,” Sam said, with more confidence than she felt. “Keep hitting them hard.”
The Hammond rolled up and over, swooping down on the cruiser as it passed Daedalus, trying for a shot to support the hive. Fire bloomed on Daedalus’s shields, and then Hammond struck, railguns hitting the cruiser’s shields just beyond the curve of the bow. The cruiser staggered slightly, recovered, and rolled away. Chandler kept the Hammond on their tail, and the forward shields recorded more impacts.
“Their aft shields are down,” the engineer said.
“Missiles,” Sam said, and Ellefson answered from the weapons console.
“Missiles away.”
“Direct hit!” someone said, and in the screen the cruiser shuddered and pitched, starting to roll as atmosphere vented from a massive breach. “They’ve lost power, losing life support — it looks like they’re beaming survivors out.”
That evened things up a little, Sam thought. And it proved these new shields weren’t as good as the Asgard-based design. “Leave the cruiser,” she said. “Go for the hive.”
“Ma’am!” That was Jarrett, her voice high but under control. “Daedalus reports they’ve taken a hit to their maneuver engines. They’re launching 302s to cover.”
Sam’s mouth tightened. Two against one had been good odds, meant they could tag team the hive, save their shields while running down its defenses, but this… Was what it was, she told herself, and frowned at the tac display.
“Ma’am, the hive’s launching Darts,” Jarrett said.
“Hive’s coming around for another try at Daedalus,” Franklin said.
Chandler was already altering course to compensate, interposing Hammond between the hive and the drifting Daedalus, forcing the Wraith ship to bank away. Sam saw the railguns fire, a steady pulse of blue, saw a couple of secondary explosions near the hive’s stern before they flashed away. A stream of Darts flickered past, fire too light to do damage yet, but every hit depleting their own shields. She could hear the 302 chatter in the background, forced herself not to pay attention until she had to.
“Take her on the left flank,” Sam said. That would force the hive further away from the Daedalus as she turned to answer, even if it would mean Hammond would take a few more solid hits on the forward shields. They would hold through this pass, she was sure, and then they should show her their tail, try to get her to chase.
“Yes, ma’am,” Chandler said, and Hammond rotated around her own center, diving in for the attack. The hive rolled away, maybe a little sluggish this time, maybe the power shortages kicking in, and the railguns stitched fire along her back, lighting up her shields. The hive’s guns answered, and even with the inertial dampeners, Sam felt the Hammond shudder under her.
“Forward shields at sixty percent,” Franklin said. “Ventral shields at seventy-five.”
“Let’s see if she’ll chase us,” Sam said, and leaned forward in her chair.
Chapter twenty-six
Daedalus and Hammond
The 302s streamed out of Daedalus’s bay, the big rocket engine kicking Mel back in her chair before the internal dampeners fully compensated. And that was worrisome, but there wasn’t time to think about that. Blue Flight formed up on her in loose echelon, Gold Flight following suit on Dwaine Grant’s 302 — there never was and never would be a ‘Red Leader’ on Caldwell’s ship, and as always that made her think of Sheppard and grin behind her oxygen mask. She settled herself into the controls, the thought vanishing as the HUD winked into focus. The cruiser was drifting away, all systems dead, nothing more than space junk. That was a good sign: these new energy shields couldn’t handle their energy weapons. They were ahead of the Darts, the first flight just clearing the hive, the Hammond working the far side to keep them from launching anything from the opposite bay. And that was something, a chance they didn’t always get, though it didn’t do much to offset the damage to Daedalus.
“Blue Flight, Gold Flight, this is Blue Leader,” she said. “Gold Flight, Blue Two, Blue Five, engage the Darts. Blue Three, Blue Four, with me. Our target is the hive.”
The first wave of Darts was closing, spreading out like pellets from a shotgun. The 302s drove toward them, spreading a little to match. Symbols flashed on the HUD, counting down to optimum range, and she pulled up and right as a Dart flashed toward her, spitting blue fire. She turned her roll into a half-loop, caught the first Dart’s wingman in her crosshairs. She fired, saw the bolts clip the Dart’s wing, send it spinning and sparking, but curbed the instinct to pursue.
“No shield!” she called. “Darts are not shielded!”
Behind her, Gold Flight was mixing it up with the Darts; at the edge of the display, she could see someone break off after a couple of Darts that had gotten through. Daedalus’s thrusters flared, trying to turn their narrowest profile, but she put it all from her mind with practiced ease. The hive swelled in her screen, the weird pebbly surface dark against the stars, and her computer shrieked a warning. Enemy at four o’clock, rising from under the cruiser’s belly. A bolt of fire slashed past her, and another clipped her shields. Everything was still green, and she rolled over and down, risking the belly shot to get him chasing. Sure enough, he followed, and she came up on his tail, cannons firing. The Dart exploded, sparks and debris flying, and she dove beneath the expanding cloud, stitching shots along the hive’s spine. Something fired back at her, and she pulled up and away, proximity alarms chattering briefly.
Another Dart dove at her, a companion following; she took their fire, shield warning chiming, and lined up her shots, first one, then the other exploding in a flash of fire. She passed through the edge of the second fireball, pulled up again to check her instruments. All systems green, shields still at ninety percent.
The Hammond swung on its axis, coming in for another pass. A Dart flashed past, and she fired, knew she’d missed anything vital.