“Status,” he asked.
“ETA on deflection, one minute,” Hawk’s XO announced. “All systems functional, we’re on schedule.”
“Falcon’s ready when you are, Captain,” Falcon’s XO said.
“We could do this blind, sir,” said Eagle. “All hands awaiting your call.”
On the map, the two surviving members of Vortex-1 maintained cruising acceleration in a parallel line to Sierra-1. Clarke knew that, as soon as Sierra-1 committed to intercepting the kinetics, Erickson would order their ships to fire.
All the other way across the map was Dione, with its Outlander spaceport orbiting around it like a moon.
If we make this shot, maybe the Academy’s going to teach about it, Clarke thought. Perhaps the next generation’s Captain Yin would go over it with some midshipman named Clarke. She’d probably list all of Captain Clarke’s errors today and advise the midshipman to listen to his teachers if he wanted to avoid ending up like poor, disgraced Captain Clarke.
Midshipman Clarke would nod and do his best impression of giving Yin his full attention. In the young man’s head, he’d daydream of fire and glory among the stars. Perhaps, if he lived long enough, time would drill in his head the lesson his teachers had tried to instill. There was no fire and glory in the vastness of space. Only cold and silence.
The countdown reached zero. The young midshipman and his scowling teacher vanished, leaving only the soldier.
“Sierra-1, open fire. Good luck and God bless you all,” Captain Clarke said.
Gravity vanished as Hawk stopped accelerating to maximize its targeting precision. Power level across all non-vital systems dropped as the oryza reactor focused all its efforts to accelerate a huge chunk of metal to relativistic speeds in few seconds.
The destroyer jerked violently, as if caught in the wrath of an invisible hurricane, and the structure around the cabin groaned. Lights flared, died, then came back to life with a vengeance.
“Kinetics fired,” announced Captain Alicante. The other destroyers confirmed their launches.
At once, Hawk’s radar officer issued a bridge-wide warning that Vortex-1 had deployed torpedoes and a cannon salvo in close succession.
Smart, Clarke conceded. By launching both directly after Sierra-1 had launched kinetics, Erickson ensured the EIF ships wouldn’t be able to deflect the cannonballs with their own, since they had little reaction time, and the oryza reactors were still recovering. Their reduced capacity to accelerate and their turrets would have to suffice.
“What’s the deflection status?” he asked. The predicted routes on the VCD could go either way, it was too soon for the computers to say so with certainty. But Clarke had learned across the years that the Weapon Systems crew usually developed a symbiotic relationship with their weaponry that bordered on the supernatural.
“Falcon’s shot went wide,” the Weapon Systems Officer said, his voice barely a whisper in the bridge’s line. “They missed their window by a quarter second, I saw it clear as daylight. Probably the fault of their reactor, I’d wager. It’s the oldest in Sierra, by far.”
“What about ours?” Clarke said. He made an effort to keep his voice calm.
“A month’s wages says we got it, sir. Jury’s still out with Eagle’s. It could go either way.”
In the other channel, Alicante raced his officers across the preparations for emergency evasive maneuvers. The alarm of incoming hard-gs bathed the bridge (and the rest of the ship) in flashing crimson. Vortex-1’s torpedoes approached.
The computers matched the WSO’s prediction. Captain Rehman confirmed it with an inflection-less voice. “Falcon’s kinetics went wide, shot failed to connect.”
It’s out of your hands now, Clarke, a voice that sounded almost like Yin’s reminded him. It was like being back at the Academy. Focus on what you can do, don’t waste your time in what’s out of your control.
The turrets from the three destroyers and their escorts engaged the incoming cloud of torpedoes, flanked by the roaring cannonballs aimed at the destroyers’ hearts. Clarke knew Sierra-1 couldn’t both dodge the cannonballs and deal with the torpedoes, it would overwhelm the tasked reactors, and Eagle depended on Hawk’s computers to target any torpedo.
The problem is with the reactors, Clarke thought. It gave him an idea. He hated it immediately.
“Alicante, we need to tell Sierra-2 to ready their firing solutions in case we miss. Eagle, Falcon, invest in dodging those cannon shots. I have a plan to deal with those torpedoes.”
Alicante turned in his g-seat and shot Clarke a doubtful look.
“Yeah, good luck with that, sir,” mumbled Rehman.
“A plan?” Pascari entered a private line with Clarke. “Look, there’s no way we live through that barrage and you know it. I say we attack Erickson with everything we have and bring the bastard down with us.”
“That’s more or less what will happen,” Clarke said. “But with less unnecessary death.”
“Commander Alicante, set course to the incoming torpedoes at once. Get Engineering to overload our reactor, I want a full-blown meltdown an instant before the torpedoes reach us. Finally, you and the rest of the crew should board escape capsules as soon as possible.”
“Sir?” Alicante asked. “What about you?”
“Someone has to stay to accelerate the ship,” said Clarke. In an emergency, the commander in charge could override normal ship systems and control Navigation from his console. It meant having access to only the basic functions, but basic functions would suffice for his purpose. He’d accelerate at maximum capacity, disabling emergency locks. It would kill him, yes, but so would the torpedoes or the reactor meltdown.
“You’ll blow the ship,” Navathe said. “You crazy asshole.”
“Believe me,” Clarke said, “I wouldn’t do it if there was any other option. Navathe, do me a favor and get on those capsules. Beowulf deserves at least one survivor to tell its story.”
“Like hell, Clarke,” Navathe said. “I’m not abandoning two ships.”
Trust me, it gets easier the more you do it.
Many things happened at once. First, Alicante reported that Hawk’s kinetics had collided with the enemy, and both had neutralized each other. Then, he announced that Eagle had just issued a course change and deployed escape capsules.
Clarke blinked, not believing his ears. He reacted with the calm a man has when he believes he’s dreaming. “Mather? What’s going on? There was no reason for you to evacuate.”
“I didn’t, sir. But I heard your plan. With respect, sir, Eagle’s closer than Hawk. Besides, we’re hurt, and you aren’t, so you have a better chance at destroying Vortex-1.”
“Mather, this is my responsibility, not yours.” Clarke knew that Mather’s argument made perfect sense, but he couldn’t accept sense and reason when they asked him to sacrifice a person in his name.
“Sorry, Captain. Isabella Reiner is going to need you directing her navy more than she’ll need a barely competent commander in a scout force subdivision. I don’t see it as me giving my life for her. The way I see it, I’m helping give her what she deserves. I am giving her the Edge.”
Words caught in Clarke’s throat. Gs accumulated on the VCD dot for Eagle as the ship tasked its engines to their full capability, soon bypassing safe limits for human survival.