Procyon's entire control net crashed as Megaira convinced it to lobotomize its own AI.
Procyon writhed out of control, systems collapsing into manual control, leaving her momentarily defenseless as Megaira rampaged through them. Circuits spat sparks and died, backup computers spasmed in electronic hysteria, and Howell did the only thing he could. His hand slammed down on the red switch on his board. HMS Procyon vanished into the security of her shield, and he wondered if it was enough. In theory, nothing could get through an OKM shield-but no one had ever tested that theory against a battlecruiser's full-powered ramming attack.
If she'd had even a moment longer, Megaira might have stopped the shield before it activated, but she didn't have a moment. There was barely time to snatch Tisiphone out of the dreadnought's circuitry before the shield chopped off her access, and even that delay was nearly fatal.
She'd cut her margin too close. HMS Issus opened fire with every weapon, and Megaira was locked into too many tasks at once. Her defenses were far below par. She was too close for SLAMs, but at least six sublight missiles and three energy torpedoes went home against her battle screen.
The alpha-synth writhed at the heart of a manmade star. Screen generators screamed in agony, local failures pierced her defenses, and elation filled Issus' captain. Nothing short of a battleship could survive that concentrated blow!
A battleship … or an alpha-synth. Megaira staggered out of the holocaust, blistered and broken, trailing vaporized alloy and atmosphere. A third of her weapons were twisted ruin, but she was alive. Alive and deadly, no longer distracted, as she turned upon her foe.
Her holo projector was gone, and the battlecruiser's captain had one instant to gawk in disbelief as Megaira stood revealed. Then answering fire slammed back. A direct hit wiped away Issus' bridge. More fire ripped past her weakened defenses, and panic flashed through Howell's squadron. Their flagship had been driven behind her shield. Cannae and her escorts had been destroyed. Issus was a shattered, dying wreck … and now they knew their enemy. Knew they faced an alpha-synth which had carved its way through the very heart of their battleline.
Only the battlecruiser Verdun stood in her path, and Verdun refused to face her. She spun away, interposing her own Fasset drive, and Megaira screamed past at thirty-six percent of light-speed.
Chapter Sixty-Three
The lethal chaos receded astern, and Alicia cursed herself viciously. Monkoto had planned for her to play the part of a battlecruiser, slightly damaged in the inevitable engagement with Howell's screen, and she'd blown it. Howell had killed her SLAM drones-exactly as intended-but she could carry the same word in person … unless he stopped her. Yet thanks to Megaira's damage, he knew what she was. Dreadnoughts were built for speed as well as power; Procyon might have overhauled a battlecruiser with battle damage, but nothing he had could hope to overtake an alpha-synth. So he wouldn't even try, and -
Her head jerked up as Megaira's drive died. The ship sped onward, but she was no longer accelerating, and Alicia's mouth twisted bitterly.
"Nice try, but you don't really think you can trick them with a fake drive failure, do you?"
Who the fuck is faking? Megaira snarled back. I just lost the entire after quadrant of the drive fan!
"You what?"
I said somebody threw a goddamned wrench into the works! The AI snapped as diagnostic programs danced. Shit! The bastards took out both Alpha runs to the upper node generators!
Can they be repaired? Tisiphone demanded quickly.
Sure-if you can think of some way to keep those creeps from killing us while I do it! The alpha-synth's point defense stations took out the first spattering of incoming missiles even as her maintenance remotes leapt into action. In the meantime, no drive means no evasion and no nice SLAM-eater. If those battlecruisers get their shit together, we're dead.
Alicia gripped the arms of her command chair, face white, monitoring remotes that ripped out huge chunks of broken hull and buckled frame members to get at the damaged control runs. There was no time for neatness; Megaira was inflicting fresh and grievous wounds upon herself as she raced to make repairs which should have taken a shipyard days.
More missiles sizzled in from Verdun-but only missiles. She must have exhausted her SLAMs against Megaira's mad charge, yet her two surviving sisters hadn't, and they were closing fast. One would reach firing range within fifty minutes; the other in an hour; and Procyon still had SLAMs in plenty once she came out from behind her shield.
James Howell sat grimly silent as damage control labored. Commander Rahman had replaced the shrieking, drooling Rendlemann, but Procyon no longer had a cyber-synth. No one knew how it had been done, but her AI was gone, and massive damage to the manual backups left the big dreadnought defenseless. There wouldn't even be battle screen until damage control could route around the wrecked subsystems, and even if they replaced them all, Procyon would be at little more than half normal capability without her AI.
Which meant he dared not drop his mauled flagship's shield despite a desperate temptation to do just that. Verdun and Issus had almost certainly killed those madmen, assuming they hadn't destroyed themselves against the shield. But if they had somehow survived and fled, his people might need Procyon's SLAM batteries to stop them-except that if they'd survived and hadn't fled, a single missile salvo would rip his crippled ship apart. And so he sat still, watching his crew wrestle furiously with their repairs, and waited.
"Why the hell aren't they coming after us?" Alicia worried, watching lightning glare as Megaira's point defense dealt with incoming missiles.
Little One, Tisiphone observed with massive restraint, I see missiles enough, and two of their battlecruisers are pursuing us.
"Not them-Procyon. Why doesn't she drop her shield and fry us?"
You're complaining? Megaira flung half a dozen missiles back at Verdun. They had little chance of penetrating the battlecruiser's point defense at this range, but they might make her a bit more cautious. Alley, I gave that cyber-synth piece of crap a terminal migraine. Unless I miss my guess, they're scraping fried molycircs off the deck plates and wondering what the hell hit them.
"Yeah, but for how much longer?"
How do I know? Damn it, I've got more to worry about than-
"I know, honey. I know!" Alicia said contritely. "It's just that-"
Just that this waiting wears upon the nerves, Tisiphone finished. Yet think, Little One-none but the truly mad would linger within SLAM range of that dreadnought if they could flee. Hence, they must believe our drive damage genuine, which means we may yet complete our original intent.
Unless they get their act together and kill us, Megaira muttered.
The battlecruiser Trafalgar raced towards rendezvous with Verdun. Another twenty minutes. Just twenty, and her SLAMs would have the range.
Okay, people, Megaira murmured. Now just pray it holds … .