Alvarez took his station beside him.
Aaron looked over at him. “Vee, clearly they’re relying on the assumption their ship is superior and we’re a mere fly to be swatted with disdain,” he said.
Alvarez cupped his chin. He was an indispensable Executive Officer and a true friend. “I see no fault in your conclusion, Aaron. They simply pounced like a wild animal from the brush. There’s not a trace of tactics or strategy in their approach. But it’s having quite the effect.”
Aaron grunted. “For now . . . those laser strikes were never going to penetrate reinforced armor from the distance they struck. Something isn’t all right with this scenario in more ways than one.”
“That much is certain,” the XO said. “Either they’re reckless or they’re untrained in the intricacies of starship combat. But what if we’re wrong somehow?”
“I’ve been wrong before. Better to choose a strong course of action and stick to it and adapt, than allow indecision to drain the intensity from your actions.”
“Sounds like an all-or-nothing approach, Commander,” Alvarez said. “Some would call it reckless.”
“And some might call it brilliant,” Aaron said, refusing to acknowledge the obvious hint. The XO was notorious for cracking a joke with a straight face, and at the most odd times.
“What would you call it, Commander?” Alvarez asked.
Aaron flashed a wide grin. “Effective.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Our priority is the freighter. Either we force the hostiles to disengage or we destroy them. There’s no other outcome. I won’t let them get this one. Not this time.”
Lee interrupted them. “Both targets have come about now and are increasing speed, Commander. Distance eight hundred thousand kilometers. They’re faster than us. High acceleration curve and closing!”
Aaron released his vice grip on the command seat arms and snapped his harness in place. “That’s what we want, let them close to point blank range. Everyone engage restraints, XO, sound the alarm.” Three headache-inducing klaxons would signal to anyone not braced that imminent harsh maneuvers or incoming ordnance strikes might soon follow.
Lee sounded worried. “We do? Sir, our armor will be significantly weaker when the polarization buckles. It won’t stand up to the intensity of those lasers for very long.”
Lee stated the obvious, and surely, the tactical officer knew this. Aaron was certain it wasn’t Lee’s intent to inform him of something he didn’t know, but rather—compel him to reconsider.
He’d considered it—all or nothing.
“Three hundred thousand kilometers, they’re almost on top of us . . .” Lee said.
“Bridge, engineering!” It was Sanderson’s voice from engineering. “Armor integrity field is buckling. Not sure how much longer we can hold. Their laser intensity is increasing!”
Everyone’s a critic today. His crew would follow his orders, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t question them in their minds. What the engineer meant to say was—are you intending on letting them burn us alive? Ridiculous, of course he wasn’t!
Despite all signs to the contrary.
The ship bucked as if a giant hand slapped it sideways. There was no mistaking the severity of that jarring vibration. The rear armor was completely depolarized.
Vee leaned in closer from his left. “Aaron, unless we initiate evasive maneuvers, they’re going to burn a hole straight through our rear armor, at least give them another spot to focus on.”
“Negative,” Aaron said, keeping his voice low. “Vee, they can clearly out maneuver us and they’ve got superior firepower. We won’t last long in a brawl.” Then louder he said, “Helm, maintain course and on my order, execute maneuver bravo-6. Lieutenant Lee, I want a full railgun spread starboard and port, maximum firing rate, empty the magazines and reload.”
“Aye, sir, bravo-6, standing by,” Miroslav said, sounding shaky. He was on his first starship assignment out of Fleet Academy. Other than chasing away a few pirates, this would be his first real engagement.
The railguns could fire as much as three hundred rounds per minute. The targets were close, and at this range, the volley should be devastating. Aaron monitored the display as the targets closed to within two hundred thousand kilometers. Trident heaved again, harder this time. It could only mean one thing.
Her hull had been compromised.
“Direct hit astern,” Alvarez reported. “Hull breach, section six, deck two. A few more seconds and they’ll tear us completely open back there.”
Aaron heard the report and he didn’t hear it. He focused on the distance readout.
Three. Two. One.
“Now! Bravo-six maneuver, fire full spread!”
Trident reversed engines and veered hard to port straining combat harnesses with the sudden emergency deceleration.
Her two pursuers overshot by fifty thousand kilometers. The maneuver was risky. Any sooner and the relentless bandits may have been able to cut significant momentum before overshooting. Trident would never escape the faster enemy raiders. He’d lured them in to end the engagement with one direct salvo.
Trident punched back.
Her port and starboard railgun batteries blasted continuous salvoes as the hostile contacts overshot along her port and starboard quadrants. The barrage ripped through the evidently lightly armored attackers. Projectiles pierced through and through along both attackers’ superstructures.
“Heavy damage to both vessels,” Lee said. “They’re powerless and adrift,” he paused. “Detecting an object from their ship, small mass, sensor returns indicate . . . missiles in the black!”
Aaron shifted to the edge of his seat as if the sudden movement could propel Trident forward. “Helm, emergency acceleration. Punch it! Lieutenant, deploy point defense cannons (PDCs).”
Trident accelerated. Two hundred thousand. Three hundred thousand. Five hundred thousand kilometers from the disabled attackers. Why hadn’t those missiles ignited yet?
Aaron forced himself to sit back. “They dead dropped them. But why haven’t the missiles activated?”
The question lingered in the air. No one offered a theory. Raiders with military grade lasers and missiles? Someone at Fleet Intelligence had made a big mistake.
Three seconds later the first missile struck Trident’s compromised rear armor. Explosions ripped through the rear. The other missile was still out there, dead in space.
Aaron pounded his fist. “Lieutenant! Destroy those ships now!”
“Aye, Commander! Hornet missiles away,” Lee said.
Trident fired several missiles of her own.
Aaron steadied himself as the ship bucked. “XO, what hit us?”
“Rear impact, Commander,” the XO said. “I’m only seeing one missile left now, it hasn’t energized yet either. Looking over the recording, the impact was from the first missile. It ignited its engine and less than two seconds later struck us.”
That would mean the missile was almost superluminal. Aaron didn’t know of any weapon advancements involving superluminal capabilities. The United Fleet’s fastest missiles accelerated to .5 c. The latest railgun designs lobbed their munitions at .3 c.
At five hundred thousand kilometers from the target, at near the speed of light, the enemy missile took less than two seconds to impact. The ship’s PDCs hadn’t been able to react, even under computer control. Trident accelerated at flank speed from the target, but the other missile might come soon. Why hadn’t it struck already?