Embers of Rebellion, page 57
*
Falcon
Caleb’s trick with Bear bought him fourteen minutes of peace. In that time, his crew carried out as many repairs as they could. Crucially, they brought Falcon’s available power from her three reactors up to eighty-seven percent of their maximum output. Power lines were also repaired or rerouted to engine two along with a myriad of other hasty repairs.
As well, Hernandez fired off two salvos with his two guns. His first missed, but two slivers from his second salvo hit the Republic destroyer. One knocked out one of the destroyer’s engines, compromising its ability to carry out evasive maneuvers.
Over those fourteen minutes, the Republic destroyer fired three salvos at Bear. With the frigate racing away at full power, it was a relatively easy target. The first salvo hit the frigate with three HE slivers. The next two tore the small ship apart. It didn’t detonate, but it lost all power and began to drift out of the Solaris system.
As soon as Bear was gone, Hernandez began firing all three of Falcon’s guns again. The Republic destroyer soon reacquired Falcon and began firing at her once more. Salvo after salvo from both ships smashed into one another. Some rounds were deflected by armor, while others failed to penetrate deeply enough to do serious damage. Yet slowly but steadily, Falcon was being cut to pieces.
“Chief Maguire reports we’ve lost reactor three,” Santiago reported after a particularly heavy hit.
Caleb’s spine still ached from the concussive force that had swept through the ship. Caleb bit back a groan. With reactor three down, he didn’t have enough power to operate both Falcon’s engines and guns at maximum capacity—even with the damage her opponent had already taken.
“Prioritize our evasive maneuvers, Rodgers,” he decided. As much as he wanted to cripple the enemy destroyer, he knew Falcon couldn’t take much more damage.
“We’ve got hull breaches on decks nine and ten, sections three through five,” Freya reported as more damage reports came in.
“Our sensors on that side of the ship are really struggling now, Captain,” Gomez said. “I recommend we turn the ship, or I can’t guarantee the accuracy of the targeting data I’m sending Lieutenant Hernandez.”
Caleb fought to stop himself from grimacing. Turning meant giving up on running for the mass shadow. It was a long shot now, and he knew it. But if a lucky hit could take out the destroyer’s reactors and engines or rupture their power relays to their engines, then he could still make a run for it. However, if he turned now to present his relatively undamaged starboard side, all of Rodgers’ evasive maneuvers would take Falcon away from the mass shadow and closer to the Republic destroyer.
You have no choice, he told himself as he nodded to Gomez. “Do it.”
To Caleb’s surprise, just minutes after his ship turned, the Republic destroyer did the same. This meant they wouldn’t close the distance as quickly. And it means they are hurt—worse than it appears, Caleb concluded. It gave him a small measure of hope. Yet now both ships had presented their fully-armored sides to one another, and so the battle raged on.
Over the next fifteen minutes, both ships fired two more salvos at one another. Falcon shook under Caleb’s feet as she was hit three times. He had expected the impacts to feel different now that his ship’s strongest armor was facing the enemy. With her reinforced armor, Falcon should have been able to withstand the hits better. Yet Caleb could still feel his ship breaking apart as she was struck again.
Her hull and internal structure are just too weak, Caleb realized.
Damage reports poured in from all over the ship after each impact, not just from the localized area the sliver had struck. One round even pierced right through the ex-freighter and out her opposite side. Though her internals had been reinforced with armored bulkheads and strengthened deck plating, many of Falcon’s less-critical areas were barely more protected than they had been when she had been Freya’s old trade freighter.
The Republic destroyer was struck at least twice in the exchange, but with her heavier armor still intact, she appeared to withstand the punishment better. Caleb grew more and more anxious as he felt his ship failing while his enemy continued firing, seemingly undeterred.
Then even worse news was reported to Caleb.
“Captain, we’ve just detected more weapons fire. It came from a Republic destroyer on the far side of Solaris,” Gomez reported, fear in her voice.
Caleb felt the ground fall out from under him as the data appeared on the main display. The enemy destroyer was in a perfect position to intercept Swan and Supernova. Immediately, he knew he wasn’t fighting Alexander. It had never felt quite right. Now that he knew there was another Republic destroyer in the system, he understood where his old friend was.
Fear for Armitage and Kursk filled Caleb. They outgunned Alexander, but in his heart, Caleb knew Alexander outclassed both of them. Even with a destroyer each, they would be at a disadvantage.
“Signal Ensign Matthews,” Caleb ordered immediately. “Tell him to engage the new destroyer with Swan and Supernova. He is to get his firing solutions from Swan from now on.”
“Contacting him now, Captain,” Nashville called out hastily.
Another round of salvos was exchanged. To Caleb’s amazement, all of the Republic destroyer’s slivers missed. In contrast, one of Hernandez’s slivers struck its target. Immediately, the power readings from the destroyer dropped.
“We did some reactor damage!” Caleb said loudly to encourage his officers.
Then the Republic destroyer erupted in a secondary energy flare. For a second, Caleb thought its reactors were overloading. But then something burst out of the inside of the ship.
Freya realized what they were seeing first. “It’s a sliver from the fort! Matthews’ last shot scored a hit!”
Caleb pumped his fist in the air as other officers cheered. The destroyer looked badly damaged. Matthews’ shot had blown a large hole in the side Falcon’s sensors could see. Caleb imagined it was even worse on the other side. One of the destroyer’s guns was no longer pointing at Falcon, suggesting it had lost all power.
“We have her on the ropes,” Caleb said excitedly. “Keep evading and firing as best we can.”
Though his words were full of optimism, as the battle continued, it quickly began to feel like they were largely empty. Falcon could only recharge her guns quickly enough to fire every seven and a half minutes. The Republic destroyer was faster—initially firing her two guns every six minutes and forty-five seconds.
Alongside the compromised rate of fire, both ships’ evasive maneuvers and ability to sense one another were also badly degraded. At this range, they should have been peppering each other with multiple slivers per salvo. Yet over the next twenty minutes, when they did manage to hit each other, it was only with one or two slivers at a time.
Every time Falcon was hit, Caleb’s body tensed, expecting his ship to break apart the same way the Regulator passenger ship had. Miraculously, she continued to hold together long enough to fire the next salvo—and then the next. Caleb’s crew worked wonders, carrying out just enough repairs to keep Falcon’s reactors going, feeding power to her guns and engines just enough to stay in the fight.
Caleb did his best to encourage and rally his officers and crew. He helped out where he could as well, but with both ships so badly damaged, there were no maneuvers he could order, no clever tactics he could employ. The battle had degenerated into a contest of endurance—two broken warships locked in a grim struggle to see which one could hold together longer than the other.
Then, the moment Caleb had been fearing came.
Only a single sliver from the destroyer’s next salvo struck Falcon—but it did its work well.
The sliver hit Falcon directly amidships. It tore deep into the auxiliary cruiser—so deep that Caleb heard the screech and scream of metal being twisted and torn, even as he was violently thrown against his restraints.
Alarms filled the bridge moments later. Freya peered down at her console, her fingers flying over the controls. When she looked up at Caleb, her face was dark.
“We’re not picking up any power coming from the reactors. At least, none is reaching us.”
“Engines are unresponsive, Captain,” Rodgers reported. “I think we’ve lost power to them too.”
“Guns aren’t charging, Captain,” Hernandez added.
“All sensors are do—” Gomez began.
A terrible screeching sound cut her off. It sounded as if Falcon herself was protesting the damage. Caleb braced himself, thinking the ship was about to break apart.
Then—silence.
If the engines were still thrusting, that might just have been us! Caleb thought. The realization gave him a sudden clarity. Freya and the others’ news was dire. But they weren’t dead yet.
Caleb took a moment to compose himself, then turned back to Gomez. “Ensign, you were saying?”
“Our sensors are down too, Captain.”
“I’ve just managed to reach Chief Maguire,” Freya said. “He’s confirmed all reactors are down. Completely dead. He thinks he might be able to restart reactor two, but he needs to open it up first. That’s a two-hour job minimum. The only power we have is in the reserve capacitors and whatever remains in the other system capacitors.”
Caleb looked around at his officers. Fear was written on every face. For all they knew, another enemy salvo was already on its way to finish them off.
“We are not dead yet!” he said, echoing his own thoughts to them. “And I, for one, don’t intend to just sit around and wait for death to come. Nor will I wait for that destroyer to think we’ve surrendered and try to take us into captivity.”
Caleb hardened his voice.
“I will not fall into the hands of the Senate or the Regulators.”
Mentioning the Regulators elicited more fear from his officers, yet at the same time, a grim determination began to settle over them. Caleb took a breath, then prioritized what needed to be done.
“Gomez, see if you can get a repair team to at least one of your external sensors. Have them bring a portable power pack with them. If possible, I’d like to get a glimpse of what our enemy is doing. Everyone else, conduct a full damage survey. Make a list of what’s still operational or has power reserves. Once we know what we have left, we can figure out our next move.”
Caleb’s orders put his officers back into motion. He watched them for a second, amazed at how quickly they focused on their tasks. At least we will die doing something rather than twiddling our thumbs, a dark part of his mind whispered. He dismissed the thought and joined his officers—he needed something to do as well.
Seven minutes later, as they approached the moment when the next enemy salvo should have hit them, everyone stopped what they were doing—without Caleb needing to say a word. A silent tension filled the bridge. Caleb shared glances with Freya and Santiago. It has been an honor, he conveyed to them.
With no sensors working, there was no way to tell if any shells had exploded. Caleb tried to breathe deeply, to stay calm. He thought of Rebecca. At least she’s safe on Solaris. He was also glad he’d found the courage to kiss her. It was worth it, even if it didn’t last, he thought, accepting what was about to come.
His mind then turned to his father. He will do it. Caleb didn’t know how his father would beat Decimus, the Senate, and the might of the Republic’s fleets. But somehow, he believed he would find a way.
As content as he could be, Caleb waited for the shockwaves that would tear through Falcon upon impact.
Five seconds turned into ten. Then fifteen. Nothing happened.
Caleb didn’t know what to think. It was possible the enemy destroyer had been damaged by Falcon’s last salvo before she had been crippled. For all we know, the destroyer is gone. More likely, it had just taken a few extra seconds to recharge or reload its guns.
After thirty seconds, though, Caleb began to wonder—even to hope.
“Gomez, how’s the work on that sensor coming? I want to see what’s happening.”
Gomez glanced down at her console. “A team is on the hull now,” she responded. “They’ve found a sensor and are prepping it. Estimated time to power it up—one minute.”
Her words broke the tense silence. Everyone still knew a sliver could hit them at any second, but one by one, Falcon’s officers returned to their duties.
As a full minute passed with no attack, Caleb’s hope grew. He joined Freya and Santiago in assessing just how many of Falcon’s systems were still functional.
“Passive sensor is up,” Gomez reported, trepidation in her voice.
Every head on the bridge turned to the main display. A second later, the Republic destroyer appeared. The sensor was picking up visual and electromagnetic data from the enemy ship.
Caleb’s eyebrows rose. The destroyer looked almost as battered as Falcon. It was a wonder it was still holding together. There was one crucial difference, though—the enemy ship was still moving. It was slow, but it was closing the distance. Only one of its guns was pointed at Falcon, suggesting the other two were inoperative. Yet one would be more than enough to finish them off.
“What are they doing?” Rodgers asked.
“Maybe their sensors are damaged, and they need to get in close,” Santiago suggested.
Caleb shook his head. “A blind man could hit us with the amount of damage we have.” He could easily picture what the enemy captain was thinking. He wants prisoners. What better way to ingratiate yourself with the Navy’s senior admirals and the Senators? Defeating an enemy ship was one thing—bringing prisoners back for a public trial was even better.
“No, they want prisoners,” Caleb said grimly. “Maybe they think we’ve surrendered. Or maybe they think we’ll jump at the chance to be ‘rescued.’”
Freya turned and met Caleb’s eyes. Her expression was resolute, her voice hard. “I’m not being taken alive. I’m never going back under the Senate’s control.”
“I agree,” Caleb said, all but certain Falcon’s entire crew felt the same. “So, we’d better figure out just how badly we’re damaged so we can come up with a plan to get out of this mess. Come on,” he added, looking at his officers. “I need to know what we’ve got left to fight with.”
Ten minutes later, Santiago and Freya gave Caleb a rundown. The news wasn’t good.
Two of Falcon’s reactors were damaged beyond repair. So was her slipstream drive. Maguire thought he might be able to restart Reactor Two, but only if they opened her up and replaced several key components—a process he now estimated would take at least twelve hours. Gun One, Falcon’s six-inch rail gun, was gone. The power relay lines to the two remaining guns were shredded. The relays to Falcon’s engines were also wrecked, though so were the engines themselves, so it wasn’t even clear if power would do them any good.
Many sections of the ship were so badly damaged, on fire, or exposed to space that they had to be abandoned. The casualty report was grim—at least sixty-five dead, nearly a third of Falcon’s remaining crew.
Caleb ran a hand through his hair, buying himself a moment to think. They were dead in the water. But they had one thing going for them—their enemy was coming to them.
An idea began to form.
“How much total charge do we have in our systems’ capacitors? Could we charge one rail gun for a single shot?”
“I… ah… I’m not sure, Captain,” Freya said uncertainly, tapping at her console. “Maybe. We’d have to rig a lot of new lines or splice broken ones.”
“But it can be done,” Caleb pressed.
“It’s possible,” was all Freya could guarantee.
“Begin now,” Caleb instructed. “Charge whatever gun is going to be easiest. And get an SS shell to it.”
Caleb turned to Santiago. “I know our torpedo launcher is done for. But could we get a torpedo from our magazine to the gun we’re charging?”
Santiago tapped on her console. “There are a lot of damaged sections between the torpedo magazine and gun two. We’d have to cut through some of them.” She looked up. “But a torpedo is to large for a gun turret.”
Caleb nodded. “We’ll have to strip away its maneuvering thrusters and its sensors. Don’t worry, I’ve done it before. In a simulation at least.”
“But without engines, the enemy destroyer will be able to dodge it easily. Even if we charge our gun’s capacitors to full, it won’t be able to fire the torpedo with speed.”
“We don’t need to hit it, we just need to get their attention,” Caleb said with a smile. “Let me tell you what I’m thinking…”
Chapter 52
Prometheus
Just minutes before his destroyer reached the point he had determined they would open fire from, Alexander turned to Prometheus’ Regulator.
“Mr. Carruthers, I presume you have been keeping track of Concord’s battle with the rebel fake destroyer?”
“Of course, Captain. She has fought well, exactly according to regulations,” Carruthers responded from a seat at the back of the bridge, where he could observe every one of Prometheus’ officers.
“And how has that gone for them?”
“They are taking a beating, but it looks like the rebel warship will soon be destroyed,” Carruthers said.
Alexander nodded. “It looks that way, but Concord has suffered serious damage, and the fighting isn’t over yet.” He half-turned and pointed toward the two rebel ships Prometheus was moving to intercept. “Concord fought one rebel warship. We are about to face two. And our armor isn’t in quite the same condition Concord’s was at the start of the battle. Her’s was fresh, ours still carries the scars of our earlier battle.”
“What are you trying to say, Captain?” Carruthers asked.
“I’m saying, I wish to win this battle,” Alexander said authoritatively. “To do that, I would like to employ some novel tactics. Tactics not strictly forbidden by the regulations, but not explicitly prescribed by them either. We bent the rules at Supply Depot Twenty-Five. Will you allow us to do so again here?”
