Compton was watching his monitors, and he could see the defense grid had been to be highly effective. His evasive maneuver cut down the incoming missiles to roughly half the overall barrage – the rest running out of fuel before they were able to complete vector changes. The layered point defense intercepted most of the remaining warheads. Less than 3% of the missiles launched at the fleet detonated close enough to have an effect, but even this small remnant caused widespread damage.
The cruiser Dublin was destroyed outright, bracketed by three explosions within 2 kilometers. Two attack ships were also lost, and a number of other vessels suffered varying degrees of damage. Bunker Hill had some radiation penetration in outer compartments but was otherwise unscathed. All things considered, Compton thought, it could have been much, much worse.
His own volley proved to be substantially more effective. Precisely targeted and focused, a large percentage of the warheads penetrated the poorly deployed and coordinated countermeasures, savaging the primary targets…two Yorktown class capital ships. One vessel was virtually destroyed, dead in space with fires raging out of control in her inner compartments. The second was shattered, bleeding atmosphere and trying to pull out of the battleline.
He’d won the first round, but he knew the energy battle would be tougher. There were fewer tricks he could use, and the relative inexperience of the opposing crews would have less of an effect. The enemy’s numbers would tell.
“Admiral, the enemy is decelerating.” It was Joker’s voice in Compton’s earpiece. “I project an aspect change. Probability 74% they are turning to face Admiral Garret’s incoming ships.”
That was a hell of a projection considering Garret’s squadron was too far away to show up on Compton’s scanners. Once Garret passed the detection devices deployed near the warp gate, his ships entered a dead zone, disappearing as far as the fleet’s detection capability was concerned. Joker, or any of the other AIs could only predict the likely vector and location of the admiral’s ships. Garret was blasting full when he left range of the warp gate sensors, heading directly toward the Directorate fleet; that much they knew for certain. What they had done since could only be an educated guess.
“Joker, put me on the fleetcom command circuit.”
“You are broadcasting, admiral.” Joker’s voice was matter-of-fact, as always. “All fleet captains online.”
“All ships prepare for full thrust in five zero minutes.” He could almost sense the groans throughout the fleet, though no one made any sounds he could hear on the fleetcom. “I know we just got out of the couches, but Admiral Garret is heading straight for the enemy, pulling them away from us.” His voice got louder, sharper. “And we are not about to leave him hanging alone.” He paused then added, “All vessels confirm readiness in four zero minutes. Compton out.”
He leaned back on the couch, feeling the pinprick a few seconds later as Joker prepped him for the coming high g maneuvers. He could feel the nausea and the sickly bloated feeling the drugs caused, then another prick and some relief…the stimulants that partially counteracted the side effects of the pressurization injections.
“We’re coming, Augustus.” He was whispering, talking to himself. “Thank God you’re finally here.”
Chapter 29
Kara Sanders was exhausted, but she kept walking along with the rest of the army. What was left of it, at least. The retreat after the Second Battle of Sander’s Dale had turned into a near-disaster. The loss of Will Thompson infuriated the army, and the troops went wild, throwing themselves at the federals in a mindless rage. Will’s plan had been to hurt the enemy and withdraw, not to get sucked into a battle of annihilation his army couldn’t win. He knew they didn’t have the strength to defeat the federal powered infantry in a pitched battle…that they would have to wear it down gradually. But his enraged and devastated soldiers weren’t working on logic; they were out to avenge their beloved leader.
Kyle Warren had been everywhere, vainly trying to disengage and retreat. He had to save the army – for the rebellion of course, but also for Will. He owed that much to his fallen friend and leader. He got more than half their strength off the battlefield that day, but a lot of those had since been lost on the retreat, expended in desperate delaying actions or melted away in the attrition of the grueling march.
Warren knew he couldn’t defend Concordia anymore, and he resolved to move the army north, into the mountains where they had a chance to hold out, at least for a while. But before anything, there was something he had to do, a task that was his and his alone. Telling Kara about Will was the hardest thing he had ever done, and he would have rather faced any enemy on the battlefield than seen the expression on her face. He didn’t even have to tell her; she knew the minute she saw him.
She didn’t cry, at least not when anyone could see. She just calmly went about her responsibilities. Their cause was looking hopeless, but Kara wasn’t about to give up…not now, not ever. This was Will’s army, and she would stay with it as long as it existed. That much she owed him.
They’d had to abandon her factory too, the place Will had convinced them all to build years before. She’d become the heart and soul of the facility, keeping the weapons and ammo flowing out long after the raw materials stopped coming in. Sometimes it seemed they were making guns out of nothing but her raw will, but she kept the supplies coming to the army no matter what.
She had watched, silent and impassive, as Will’s soldiers placed the charges. They couldn’t defend the facility anymore, but she’d be damned if she was going to let the enemy have it. Kyle had tried to get her to leave, not to watch. But she wouldn’t move from the site, and she insisted on triggering the detonation herself. It was her factory, and if anyone was going to blow it to oblivion, it was her.
She was finding the marches more difficult every day…and it was only going to get worse. She hadn’t told anyone yet, but it wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t hide it anymore. They already treated her with an eerie sort of reverence, as if protecting her was the last thing they could do for their beloved general. She understood, but it was wearing on her too. She had her own grief, which she hadn’t even begun to deal with, and the constant attention from the army was only making it worse. What would they do when they found out she was carrying Will’s child?
Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe nothing mattered. Kyle was doing everything he could, but sooner or later the Feds would hunt them down, even in these mountains. And that would be the end. Kara would have made sure not to survive the last battle, but that was a solace she would now be denied, her responsibility to her child trumping her own wish to join Will in death. What kind of world, she wondered, will you grow up in? We have failed you; we have failed all the generations to come.
Erik Cain listened to the locking bolt click securely into the frame of the lander and felt the familiar vibration of his armor as the reactor roared to life and fed power into the servo-mechanicals of his suit. It felt and sounded like home.
Cain had anticipated the struggle between the Alliance and its colonies for his entire adult life, and he’d watched it unfold for the last several years feeling very much like a bystander. Now he was finally going to do something. He was going to do what he did best. His shoulder still hurt like hell, but nothing was keeping him out of the lander. Not now.