Douthat muttered a curse.
A bridge officer handed Captain Eder a tablet. He glanced at it, then turned to Douthat. “The Ducks have broken through the minefield. Several cruisers and a very large battleship. The last three ships of the Coldstream Guard are preparing to attack.”
The last three? Douthat winced. “And the Queen?” she asked.
“She refuses to leave the Atlas,” Eder replied.
“God dammit!” Douthat snarled. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”
Emily commed the Kent and Yorkshire. “Merlin estimates the Duck battleship will come through in about ten minutes, maybe fifteen. From the time we see it to the time we hit it, we’ll have about one minute to pile on as much speed as we can. Full military acceleration all the way.”
Stein looked at her sourly. “Who goes first?” she asked.
Emily smiled thinly. “This is the Navy, remember? We all go together.”
Grant Skiffington shook his head. “Emily, there has to be another way, something better than-”
“What?” Emily demanded. “Tell me another way to stop that damn battleship from getting through! Give me a bloody alternative and I’ll take it!”
Grant stared at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. Emily turned to Stein. “Do you have a better option?”
Stein glowered, but said nothing.
Emily nodded. “Be ready in ten minutes. Switch your AI to ‘Max.’ And when I give the order, don’t do anything fancy. Straight in and ram the bastard. New Zealand out.”
Cookie wiped the sweat from her hands and primed the first grenade, then the second. She stepped out from the corner and threw them. Beside her Wisnioswski threw four more that he had taped together. They had four left, but she was saving them in case the armored Dominion soldiers caught up to them.
They jumped back.
BaaWHAM!!! The explosion jolted Cookie to her knees. Metal fragments pinged and ricocheted off the bulkhead. Screams and shrieks sounded from the corridor. “Get ‘em!” Cookie screamed and all thirty four of her soldiers dashed down the corridor, screaming and shooting as they ran.
But at least four of the Ducks were alive. Stunned and wounded, but still fighting. They sprayed the corridor with flechettes that cut a swath through the attackers. Two of the Royal Marines simply blew apart, chucks of flesh splattering wetly into the faces of the Marines behind them. Eight more screamed and fell, punctured by dozens of steel darts. Cookie’s troops opened fire in a raging fusillade, but their fire sputtered and died as one by one their air rifles ran out of ammunition or air.
There was nowhere to hide.
More Marines fell. Cookie brought up her captured pistol, fired five quick shots into one of the Ducks, stitching him across the chest and neck, but then her weapon clicked empty and she threw it at the last gunman in sheer frustration. The last Dominion killed two more of her Marines before his eyes bulged in horrified disbelief as a six foot spear shaft suddenly grew out of his chest. He fell to his knees, struggling once more to bring up his assault rifle.
Wisnioswski shot him in the head, then kicked the corpse and spat. He grabbed his spear with one hand and yanked it out, then kicked the corpse a second time.
Cookie snatched up one of the assault rifles, checked the load and did a fast scan of the corridor. Bodies lay everywhere. Pieces of flesh stuck to the walls and ceiling. A severed arm lay alone, its fingers still twitching. Blood puddled beneath bodies and ran in streams down the corridor. Of the thirty four men and women who charged the entrance, at least fifteen were dead. And just out of sight, she could hear increased firing as the Duck armored troops steadily worked closer.
“Grab as much ammo as you can,” she told her soldiers. “Follow me.” Then they simply walked into the Command Control Center of the largest battleship in the Dominion Space Fleet.
On her battle display, Emily could see all four of the Duck cruisers slowly circling the area near the breach in the minefield.
“Active sensors, Captain,” Chief Friedman reported. “They know we’re here and they’re trying to find us.” But finding them would be hard. The New Zealand, Kent and Yorkshire were all powered down, hiding behind the innermost layer of the minefield. There was so much clutter that Emily was confident they were invisible… until they started up their drives. Then they would look like candles in a dark room.
“Merlin! Time to arrival of the Dominion battleship?” she asked.
“Approximately seven minutes,” the computer replied.
Emily nodded. “Merlin, please switch to Max.”
There was a pause, then: “Who shall I attack?” Max growled.
“Chief Gibson, send a fast courier drone to Atlas telling them what we’re doing. Also, leave a reconnaissance drone behind so that it can report how things come out.” One corner of Emily’s mind marveled at the practical simplicity of that order. They’d all be dead, of course, but at least the recon drone could report.
Chief Gibson took a deep breath. “Yes, Captain.”
Emily fretted, unconsciously stroking the bump on her nose. Was there anything she was forgetting? She sighed inwardly. It wouldn’t matter soon.
On the Vengeance, Admiral Mello watched the battle display coming in from the cruisers. The enemy ships were out there, but they couldn’t find them. No matter, there were only three of them and they had to be low on missiles, had to be beat up from the previous fighting. He would push through them and head for Atlas, no more than sixty minutes away.
And the great Victorian empire would die by his hand.
He looked up in consternation at the noise just outside the CCC, then the grenade concussion slapped him off his chair onto the floor. Smoke and debris filled the air for a long moment, but he was conscious of screaming and shouts, followed by the sewing machine sibilance of flechette guns on full automatic. With an effort, he struggled to his feet. Captain Pattin was sitting on the floor, feebly pressing her hand to a gash across her forehead and scalp, red blood spilling through her fingers to stain her tunic. Then he heard a voice in a language he recognized as English, but he didn’t know what it meant.
“I want one alive to show us the controls! Keep one alive!”
Admiral Mello frowned in anger. Where were the Dominion Security Directorate guards? They should have been here!
On board the Dominion Ship Fortitude, Admiral Kaeser had been trying to hail the Vengeance, but no one replied. He turned to the Sensors Officer.
“On my authority, override the Vengeance’s control room camera and set it to ‘Admiral’s Discretionary Monitor.’” The Sensors Officer nodded and rapidly typed in commands. The main communications screen went blank, flickered, then the CCC of the Vengeance was on the screen. Smoke filled the room and figures darted through the picture. A harsh voice rang out and Admiral Kaeser, a student of English since grammar school, felt a chill run through his spine.
“I want one alive to show us the controls! Keep one alive!”
Then the firing began, and the crew on the Fortitude watched in raw disbelief as the bridge crew of the Vengeance was massacred before their eyes.
“Full military speed!” Admiral Kaeser ordered. “Tell the DSD to gear up and report to the shuttle bay. The Vengeance has been seized by enemy troops and we are going to take it back!”
And then he watched in revulsion as a giant, blood-splattered Vicky Royal Marine walked up to Admiral Mello, the Grand Admiral of the Dominion Fleet, and thrust a spear all the way through his chest.
Cookie stepped into the Command Control Center, her fellow Marines crowding beside her. A dozen astonished faces looked back her. She held up a hand.