Destroyer (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 3) Read online

  Pike's mind was racing as he walked out of the director's office. He knew that it wasn't unheard of that even an agent that poked into the wrong place could be … eliminated. The operation Sala was running was extremely delicate, as it would be nearly impossible to look into the contacts Tsuyo had within the Federation's military apparatus without them knowing about it. The fact Sala had been so forthcoming also worried him. He was either about to get an assignment he really didn't want, be reassigned permanently to some remote outpost with no com access, or they were going to probably use the same heart-stopping drug on him that he'd used on the ESA operative.

  As an agent, and a Marine before that, Pike wasn't afraid to give his life to accomplish a mission, but being put down like an ailing pet would be a less than glorious death. He knew the floor was locked down and there wasn't a place within the Federation that he could go that Sala couldn't find him even if he was inclined to run, so he forced himself to relax and sat on the couch to await the director.

  The chance of the director ordering his death was slim, at best. Pike may have serious disagreements with the way Sala ran the CIS, but the man wasn't known for needlessly wasting such a valuable asset as a full agent. It took years to train one up and that was after the exhaustive search and psychological screenings just to find a candidate. Pike just hoped Sala's instincts as a bean-counting bureaucrat trumped his instincts to do whatever was necessary to protect an ongoing intelligence operation.

  "Sir, I wasn't aware you were aboard the platform, much less coming to see this office," Celesta Wright said, standing at attention as CENTCOM Chief of Staff Dax Longworth walked into her inner office, looking around as if he didn't notice her.

  "Yes … this isn't a social call, so I felt no need to announce my plans," Longworth said. The fleet admiral had shed his uniform and opted for expensive civilian attire quickly once he was confirmed to the position. Joseph Marcum had to be forced to take off his Fleet uniform by threat of punishment by the President himself. Celesta wasn't sure which she respected more.

  "Take your seat, Admiral Wright."

  "Thank you, sir," Celesta said, sitting as Longworth did the same across from her.

  "I won't mince words … where is the Nemesis?" Longworth said.

  A thousand responses flitted through Celesta's head at the direct question. How much did he know? Why was he asking now after Wolfe had been loitering around Terran space for months? In the end, she stiffened her spine and opted to answer just as directly.

  "I gave Captain Wolfe verbal orders clearing him to resume his mission to hunt the Darshik warship we've codenamed Specter," she said. "The orders did not originate from this office, as we've been concerned with security after the compromise of Project Prometheus."

  "Which brings me to question number two," Longworth said. "We didn't find any trace of Vruahn composites within the wreckage of the Pontiac. Not a single molecule. Where is the project principle?"

  "The Cube requested that it be left aboard Captain Wolfe's ship," Celesta said. "Given the recent attack, we felt it was safer aboard the most capable ship in the fleet than on another research outpost we seem to be unable to protect."

  "These are not your choices to make, Admiral," Longworth said, shaking his head sadly. "I've already been to see Admiral Pitt and I will say that I commend the both of you for your direct and honest responses. It will certainly be taken into consideration when this is all sorted out.

  "However … you may consider yourself relieved of command, effective immediately. Admiral Pitt has already been removed from his post. You're not under arrest or any sort of special restriction, nor am I taking rank at this time given the political considerations of such actions, but you're no longer the Seventh Fleet operations chief. I have someone on their way to fill in and you will tell them everything you know about where Captain Wolfe has taken the Federation's newest starship and an irreplaceable piece of research equipment."

  "I understand, sir," Celesta said, her ears ringing. She’d known the potential consequences for her actions when she took them, but she wasn't someone that enjoyed being dressed down and reprimanded. Losing her command was nothing short of humiliating.

  "I was told to keep an eye on Black Fleet when I took this job," Longworth said, rising. "I don't put much stock in heroes or living legends, Admiral. It takes a disciplined team for a military to operate effectively. Your snap decision based on your own limited information could have serious ramifications."

  "Yes, sir," Celesta said.

  Longworth stood and buttoned his jacket back up. He looked around the office and sighed dramatically.

  "You're dismissed, Admiral," he said. "You're free to go anywhere on the platform or even down to the planet, but your security clearance has been suspended, as has your authority to issue official orders to any Seventh Fleet ships."

  Celesta walked out of her office without another word, her head high as her staff—former staff—stared at her while she walked through the operations area, by the admin bullpen, and out of the Seventh Fleet Planning Office.

  "Flight OPS has performed the final check on the sleds, sir. Everything is good to go … missiles are all fueled and ready as well."

  "Munitions crews have uploaded the new encryption routines?" Barrett asked.

  "Yes, sir," Commander Simmons said. "We've gone one step further and Flight OPS has applied the same routine for any updates that we'll send the sleds once they're deployed."

  "Outstanding," Barrett said. "Tell them that I appreciate the initiative. We're still over a week from our destination … what's the mood of things below deck?"

  "The crew is enthused to be doing something, sir," Simmons said. "Letting it leak that we'll be directly supporting Captain Wolfe on a real mission has everyone at peak proficiency. Most aboard had served under him on the Juwel campaign and it's still a point of pride among them that he captained the Aludra Star for a time." Simmons stopped abruptly and made a face at his last remark, causing Barrett to let a chuckle slip at his XO's obvious discomfort.

  "Don’t worry about offending me, XO," he said, still laughing. "I served under the man too, and for as unassuming as he is I know what it's like to adopt a certain swagger after being on his crew … especially after a successful combat mission."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Keep them busy for the next few days so they don't go stir crazy," Barrett said. "The Star is rugged and tough, but quick she isn't. I'll begin calling planning sessions tomorrow with the senior staff and we'll decide how best to deploy given the intel we have."

  "It was pretty thin, sir," Simmons said.

  "It was," Barrett agreed. "But it will be enough. We're not tasked with winning this fight all on our own, just stinging the enemy enough so the Nemesis can get downhill and engage the Specter's newest ship."

  After his exec had left the bridge to go about his duties, Barrett thought about the upcoming mission that he had volunteered his ship for. If Starburst worked the way it was supposed to, the Star should be in minimal danger, able to escape quickly if things became too hot. She'd be operating more along the lines of a missile frigate than an assault carrier under the new doctrine, but she was still the same slow, underpowered ship she was before.

  This would only be his second time commanding a ship in combat and he was doing it while employing a new weapons system that had absolutely no real-world testing. Despite his training and recent experience, he couldn't help but have doubts in himself, the system he'd developed, the Star and her crew … would he be the type of man that stepped up when the critical moment came, or would he fold like he had so many years ago on the Blue Jacket?

  19

  "Captain Wolfe, please report to the bridge … Captain Wolfe to the bridge."

  "Glad I was already up," Jackson said, stifling a yawn as he reattached his prosthetic leg and let the inductive coupling sync up so the device's "nerves" could be felt and interpreted by his brain. He'd had breakfast brought to his quarters by an orderly
and had spent the time going over his battle plans and cementing his strategy for the second Darshik ship in the system before consulting with Chambliss and Accari.

  It had been Accari's voice over the intercom and, judging by his tone of voice, this wasn't a dire emergency. Jackson stood and put weight on the artificial appendage, listening to the hundreds of miniature actuators whine as they acclimated to the load. The new leg so closely mimicked the motion and control of his real right leg that he'd completely lost the hitching gait he'd adopted after losing the left.

  Once he was sure everything was properly connected and engaged, Jackson bent over and rolled the left pant leg back down, tucking the hem into the tops of his boots. They'd been shadowing the other Darshik ship for forty-one hours … today was the day that Jackson would kill it.

  "Emergency, sir?" Sergeant Barton asked when he walked through the hatch of his quarters.

  "It doesn't seem so, Sergeant," Jackson said. "I'd imagine Mr. Accari would be more insistent if it were something critical. At least I'd hope so."

  "He's a smart kid … even if he is an officer, sir."

  "Not to worry, Sergeant, he started out enlisted," Jackson said. "If he'd suffered from a traumatic head injury earlier in life he could have even been a Marine."

  Barton let out a huge belly laugh that lasted right up until they came up to the corridor intersection where they might encounter other crewmembers, then he locked it up and was all business.

  When Major Baer assigned Barton and Castillo to his detail, Jackson was completely taken aback at how casual the two Marines were around him when there was nobody else within earshot. It wasn't that he didn't approve of the familiarity, it was just something he'd never experienced. He chalked it up to the difference between Marines that had fought and bled in real combat and those that had become more of a ceremonial guard aboard starships. Since both NCOs had a firm sense of when it was appropriate to let loose, he found he thoroughly enjoyed their caustic gallows humor.

  "Report!" Jackson barked as he walked onto the bridge.

  "The enemy has changed course outside of our predicted model, sir," Accari said, vacating the command seat and tapping the lieutenant manning the tactical station, letting him know he was relieved.

  "It began a shallow turn to follow along the orbit of the seventh planet as we thought it might, but then it dramatically slowed. We've also decelerated to match and are maintaining our interval. We were flying parallel but its turn now has us quartering in from behind."

  "Helm, continue to maintain interval as you've been ordered," Jackson said as he absorbed the threat board. For the ship to be noticeably slowing it meant the enemy wasn't just coasting, it had actually reversed engines. Why?

  "Passives haven't picked up any transition flashes or new RDS signatures?"

  "No, sir," Hori answer. "All has been quiet."

  Jackson looked up and saw that their drive output was reversed and at fourteen percent to match the enemy ship's maneuvers, almost to the point where their gravimetric detection grid wouldn't work at all, and well below optimum. It was feasible they'd miss low-powered signatures at a distance with their own output being so reduced. Was the enemy forcing them to slow down for just that reason? It would require that the Darshik were aware of their ability to detect other RDS-powered ships and it would also explain why the cruiser they were trailing hadn't bothered to come about and investigate its partner's demise.

  A dozen scenarios went through Jackson's mind as he watched the now-intermittent contact of the enemy ship continue to slow and come about in a maneuver that didn't make sense … unless it knew the Nemesis was trailing it and was trying to position Jackson for something he didn't see. If they slowed any more they'd lose contact, and at three hundred and forty thousand kilometers of space between them he couldn't rely on the passive sensors to pick it up again.

  "OPS, sound the collision alarm and get the crew into their restraints," Jackson ordered. "Tell Engineering I want the powerplant brought up to full combat power. Tactical, update your firing solutions and make sure we're hot on all weapons. Coms, please tell Commander Chambliss his presence is requested on the bridge."

  There was a chorus of startled affirmatives and a flurry of activity as they rushed to carry out his orders. Something in Jackson's gut told him he was being herded, and he sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for the enemy to spring whatever trap they had planned for him.

  "Engineering reports available power at ninety-six percent of capacity."

  "All weapons primed, targeting tracks updated."

  "All departments reporting ready for combat maneuvers."

  "XO is on the bridge!" a breathless Commander Chambliss said, sliding into his own restraints while he finished buttoning the last few buttons on his top.

  "Okay everyone … here we go," Jackson said. "Helm, all ahead emergency! Put our bow on the target and give me everything she's got."

  "All ahead emergency, aye!"

  "Tactical!" Jackson grunted against the onslaught of g-forces as the Nemesis shot towards the enemy ship at four hundred g's of acceleration and climbing. "Unsafe everything and go active sensors."

  "Active tracking and targeting radars are up, laser emitters are up, mag-cannons are up," Accari said. "Target tracks updating."

  For a moment the enemy ship didn't react, causing Jackson to rethink his theory that there was another ship hidden nearby or that the target already knew they were there. They appeared completely surprised that a Terran destroyer just appeared out of nowhere, active sensors blazing and under full acceleration.

  "Target is turning to flee," Accari grunted. The Nemesis was still roaring at full power and the g-forces felt by the crew were actually increasing as the artificial gravity systems were helpless to nullify it. "It's under heavy acceleration, but we're still closing fast."

  "Helm, how're we doing?" Jackson asked.

  "Tracking radar shows clear skies and I have a positive track on the target, sir," Specialist Healy said. "Still clear to free-fly."

  "Very well," Jackson said as the g-forces mercifully began to slacken. "Tactical, you're clear to feed the helm steering instructions for an optimal firing solution. How soon until we're within laser cannon range?"

  "Thirty-seven minutes, sir," Accari said. "We'll need an emergency decel as we approach or we'll overfly the target too fast to inflict any real damage."

  "Noted," Jackson said. "Call it as you need it. Helm, throttle back to flank."

  "Engine output to ahead flank, aye," she said, pulling the throttles back out of the emergency power position.

  The Darshik cruiser, now clearly indicated as one of the two that Captain Barrett had tangled with from the high-resolution radar, was drifting to port slightly while still under full acceleration. Were they still being herded back around the way they'd come?

  "Missile launch! Three incoming," Accari called out. On the main display Jackson could see three icons from the missiles leaving the aft launchers creeping towards them.

  "Standard countermeasures if they get close, but we'll probably outrun them," Jackson said.

  When missiles were launched from the aft tubes of a starship moving forward at a high relative velocity, they had to burn hard just to slow down, but they were still moving along the same direction as both the launching and pursuing ships. The cruiser had launched three at long range while travelling at high speed and turning … the missiles didn't have enough thrust or fuel to decelerate and move into the flightpath of the Nemesis. So why launch them?

  "Tactical, are we getting anything on active sensors in this system besides us and the bogey ahead?"

  "Nothing, sir," Accari said. "Local space is clear and we'll be getting high-power returns on the rest of the system over the next one hundred and eighty minutes."

  "Something about this stinks," Jackson said to Chambliss. "The reactions are all—"

  "Target is venting gas and is losing engine power," Accari called out. They were close
enough that the optical sensors were able to pick up a stream of gas blowing into space from the starboard side of the ship, and its rate of acceleration cut by sixty percent.

  "Captain, from the optical data it appears the enemy has lost coolant to its starboard gravimetric field array," the Cube said over the intercom.

  "Begin decel," Jackson said. "Keep closing and then maintain a one-hundred-thousand-kilometer interval."

  "Sir?" Chambliss asked.

  "This feels like a ploy," Jackson said. "Cube, does thermographic analysis of the data show excessive heating of the starboard array?"

  "Very good, Captain," the Cube complimented him. "It does not. Array external temperature is consistent with loss of power, not critical thermal failure."

  "So he chopped power to his starboard emitter and vented the coolant?" Chambliss asked. "What the hell game—"

  "Transition flash, port flank!" Accari almost shouted.

  Alarms began blaring and it was all Jackson could do to keep his panic reflex in check. The main display showed a new target just three hundred thousand kilometers away and coming in fast.

  "Helm, hard to port! Put our bow on the new target!" he barked. "Accari, weapons free!"

  "Captain, radar returns indicate that this is the new class of cruiser that destroyed the Pontiac and the orbital habitat in the Kirin System," the Cube said.

  Jackson had already figured that out. They'd been baited into position and then, once they began lighting up the sky with active radar and weapons fire, the Specter jumped in from where it had been hiding further out in the system. Now they were sitting flatfooted while the enemy they were hunting came in with the advantage of surprise and speed.

  "Missiles one through four, firing!" Accari said. "Laser batteries locked and ready."

  "Enemy is deploying its plasma lance … power reading is off the scale," Hori said even as a brilliant point of light flared to existence on the main display.

  "Make sure CIC is tracking the other enemy ship," Jackson said. "Helm, ten-degree inclination, all ahead flank … let's close it up."