“—equipped as we are, thank you.” Whereupon Nielsen had shrugged and shelved the suits she’d been offering them.
To Kira’s amusement, the first officer and Vishal stayed on opposite sides of the shelter, but she noticed secret smiles passing between them, and their lips often moved slightly as if they were texting.
Tschetter’s face appeared in the upper right-hand corner of the display. Behind her, the Jellies were moving about as they prepared their ship for what was to come. Trig’s cryo tube was visible by a curved wall, secured in place with several strange-looking brackets. “Captain Falconi,” said Tschetter. There were deep bags under her eyes, and Kira realized the woman didn’t have access to any stims or sleep pills.
“Major.”
“Have your crew stand by. We’ll be in firing range soon.”
“Don’t worry about us,” said Falconi. “We’re ready. Just make sure the Knot gives us cover once we go hot.”
The major nodded. “They’ll do their best.”
“We’ve still got clearance from the Jellies?”
A grim smile stretched Tschetter’s face. “They’d be shooting at us if we didn’t. As is, they’re expecting us to bring the Wallfish to the Hierophant so their techs can pick through its computers.”
Kira rubbed her arms. It was happening. There was no going back now. A sense of inevitability curdled in her veins. The rest of the crew looked similarly apprehensive.
“Roger that,” said Falconi.
Tschetter gave him a terse nod. “Wait for my signal. Over and out.” She vanished from the holo.
“And here we go,” Falconi said.
Kira pressed on the earpiece Hwa-jung had given her—making sure it was securely seated—and then used her own overlays to check on the progress of the battle. The Seventh Fleet had scattered as it neared the Jellies, drawing them out and around the rocky planet the aliens were strip-mining, luring them toward a pair of small moons. The planet had been dubbed R1 by the UMC, the moons r2 and r3. Hardly elegant names, but convenient for the purposes of strategy and navigation.
Clouds of smoke and chaff obscured most of the UMC ships (in visible light, at least; they showed up fine in infrared). Sparks flashed within the clouds as the UMC’s point-defense lasers took out incoming missiles. Unlike their spaceships, the Jellies’ missiles weren’t substantially faster or more agile than the UMC’s, which meant the Seventh was able to destroy or disable most of them.
Most, but not all, and as the lasers overheated, more and more missiles slipped past.
The shooting hadn’t been going on for long, but three of the UMC cruisers were already out of commission: one destroyed, two incapacitated and drifting helplessly. A cluster of Jellies were attempting to board the pair, but Admiral Klein’s forces were working to keep the aliens tied up, away from the crippled vessels.
As for the Jellies, hard numbers were difficult to find, but it looked to Kira as if the UMC had destroyed at least four of them and damaged quite a few more. Not enough to put a serious dent in the Jelly fleet, but enough to slow the first wave.
Even as Kira watched, projectiles slammed into two of the UMC ships, both in the engine area. Their rockets sputtered and died, and the cruisers tumbled away, powerless.
Near the leading edge of the Seventh Fleet, a Jelly jinked at speeds and angles that would have flattened any human. A half dozen of the Seventh’s capital ships fired their main lasers at the vessel, impaling it with crimson threads. The lights on the Jelly ship went out, and it tumbled end over end, spraying boiling water in an ever-expanding spiral.
“Oh yeah,” Kira murmured.
She dug her nails into her palms as a pair of Jellies darted toward a hulking battleship that had somehow ended up alone by the moon r2. Lasers flickered between the battleship and the Jellies, and both sides fired several missiles.
Without warning, a white-hot spike shot out from one of the battleship’s missiles, snapping across almost nine thousand klicks in the course of a second. The spike obliterated the incoming missiles and vaporized half of the nearest alien ship, like a blowtorch blasting through styrofoam.
The damaged Jelly ship spun like a top as it vented atmosphere, and then it vanished in an explosion of its own, the annihilating antimatter creating an artificial sun that quickly dissipated.
The remaining Jelly corkscrewed away from the battleship. A second spike erupted from one of the two remaining UMC missiles—a white-hot lance of superheated plasma. It missed, but the third spike from the last missile didn’t.
A nuclear fireball replaced the alien ship in the holo-display.
“You see that?” Kira said.
Hwa-jung grunted. “Casaba-Howitzers.”
“Anything from Gregorovich?” Kira asked, looking over at Vishal and Hwa-jung.
They both shook their heads, and the doctor said, “No change, I am afraid. His vitals are the same as yesterday.”
Kira wasn’t surprised—if Gregorovich had recovered, he would have been making constant comments—but she was disappointed. Again, she hoped she hadn’t made things worse by using the Soft Blade … using the Seed to touch his mind.
Tschetter reappeared in the holo. “It’s time. Much closer and the ships guarding the Battered Hierophant are going to get suspicious. Prepare to launch.”
“Roger,” said Falconi. “Sparrow.”
“On it.” A hollow thud sounded elsewhere in the Wallfish, and the woman said, “Howitzer is loaded. Missile tubes are open. We’re ready to release.”
Falconi nodded. “Alright. You hear that, Tschetter?”
“Affirmative. The Knot of Minds is moving into final position. Transmitting updated targeting data. Stand by for go.”
“Standing by.”
On the other side of R1, a UMC cruiser vanished in a flare of light. Kira winced and checked the name: the Hokulea.
Vishal said, “Ah, poor souls. May they rest in peace.”
A hush descended upon the storm shelter as they waited, tense and sweating. Falconi moved over to Kira and put an unobtrusive hand on the small of her back. The touch warmed her, and she leaned back slightly. His fingers scratched against her coated skin, light and distracting.
On her overlays, a line appeared: <Nervous? – Falconi>
She subvocalized her answer: <Who wouldn’t be? – Kira>
<If we make it through this, we should talk. – Falconi>
<Do we need to? – Kira>
The corner of his mouth twitched. <It’s not required. But I’d like to. – Falconi>
<Okay. – Kira>
Nielsen’s eyes lingered on them, and Kira wondered what the first officer was thinking. Kira lifted her chin, feeling defiant.
Then Tschetter’s voice intruded. “We’re a go. I repeat, we’re a go. Light them up, Wallfish.”
Sparrow cackled, and a loud thump resonated through the hull. “Who wants fried calamari?”
2.
The Wallfish had been decelerating tail-first toward the Battered Hierophant. That meant the ravening torch of nuclear death that was the Wallfish’s fusion drive was pointed in the general direction of their target.
This had two advantages. First was that the drive’s exhaust helped protect the Wallfish from missiles or lasers that might be fired at them from the Jelly flagship or its escorts. Second was that the amount of energy, thermal and EM, radiating from the drive was enough to overload most any sensor aimed at it. The fusion reaction was hotter than the surface of any star and brighter too—the brightest flashlight in the galaxy.