He’d match his militia against any raiding force…even enemy regulars in powered armor. He’d been in the field against every enemy the Alliance had fought, and he’d face any of them again if he had to. But there was something different this time. In spite of the heat and the almost unbearable sun, he felt a strange chill down his spine. Not even his iron discipline was enough to keep his mind from drifting…wondering what the next week would bring. His thoughts were dark, grim. What is coming here?
Raptor shook to her very core, and her reactor almost redlined half a dozen times…but she held together. The ship’s AI and its small squadron of maintenance bots kept everything running as her straining engines continued to build velocity.
Riley Calloway lay in his acceleration couch, trying to cling to consciousness. His desperate maneuver was pushing his ship to the limit…and exposing his crew to g forces well beyond maximum sustainable levels. Calloway was hurt; he could tell that much. His shoulder was dislocated…or his arm broken. He wasn’t sure. He could feel the pain, but it was abstract, fuzzy…his mind couldn’t quite place the sensation.
If they survived this run they’d have fatalities. The part of his brain that was still functioning was certain of that. Suffocations, probably, and maybe broken backs and necks. There was nothing to be done about it though…if he hadn’t engaged his crazy plan they’d all be dead already, vaporized by the massive detonations of the incoming missiles.
Those missiles were still gaining, but if Raptor held together for another half hour they would zip right past Adelaide’s orbital station. It wasn’t a true fortress, not even close, but it did have significant point defense batteries. At close range and firing on the flank of the missile volley, the shotguns and lasers of the station would tear into the enemy ordnance. Maybe – just maybe – it would be enough to get Raptor and her crew out of this mess.
Calloway and his people were out of the fight, at least this part of it. Raptor’s AI and the crew of Adelaide’s orbital station would determine the outcome now. Riley’s last lucid thought was that it would be close. Then he drifted off into a dreamlike state. An instant later he was awake, and the crushing g forces were gone. The acceleration padding on his couch retracted, and he sat up…and lurched forward vomiting. Most of the rest of the bridge crew were doing the same.
A glance at the chronometer confirmed that an hour rather than an instant had passed. He could feel the cloudiness in his head receding, the result of the massive stimulant injection his couch’s med system had just injected. His entire body ached, but his shoulder was something different entirely – it hurt like fire. He winced and reached his other arm instinctively to the injured spot as he looked around the bridge.
“Lieutenant Khan, damage report.” The crew members were shaking themselves out and turning toward their control boards…all except Khan. She was lying motionless on her couch, her arm hanging limply over the side. “Lieutenant Khan?” Calloway was unstrapping himself from his couch as he called to her. “Sylvia?” Still no response.
He stood up quickly…and almost fell. He was still disoriented, and he had to grab for the arm of his chair to keep himself from collapsing. His shoulder was pure agony, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. He staggered across the tiny bridge toward Khan’s workstation. The medibot should have responded by now, he thought. It was only then his mind cleared enough to realize the extent of the damage all around the bridge. One of the main conduits had partially fallen, and it was hanging, still attached to the ceiling from one end. There was wreckage strewn everywhere.
“We were hit.” He spoke to himself in a whispered tone. The damage was too heavy to be from the acceleration alone. He stumbled as he reached Khan and he grabbed the edge of her couch to stabilize himself. She was dead; he could see that immediately. The best he could tell, she’d vomited during the maneuvers, and under the tremendous pressure she’d choked to death. She was lying on the couch, her head tilted at an unnatural angle, still-open eyes staring lifelessly back at him.
Calloway turned away. He’d been in battle before, more times than he liked to remember, but he’d never gotten used to losing people. Especially bridge crew…they had a special relationship with the captain, almost like family. It didn’t matter how many times he went through it – it hurt just as much every time. The suicide boats were small, and their tiny crews tended to bond more closely than those on the massive battleships.
“Raptor Control…report.” Calloway turned to move back toward his chair, but as soon as he let go of Khan’s couch his legs began to wobble. He staggered forward and grabbed one of the structural supports to stabilize himself before taking the last few steps. I shouldn’t be this weak, he thought. Then he realized what it was…radiation.
“We are approximately 4.2 million kilometers from Adelaide. We are moving at a velocity of 0.009c on a heading of 194/76 relative to the planet.” The AI’s voice was a little off…the com system was functioning, but clearly not at 100%.
So, Calloway thought, the plan worked…at least partially. “Continue report.”
“Raptor has sustained damage from two warheads. The primary effects are the result of a 4.5 gigaton detonation approximately 5.2 kilometers distant. Damage has been sustained to a number of systems. I will display a complete list on your screen. The crew has also received a harmful level of radiation exposure, ranging from 30LD to 85LD depending on location and shielding. Sickbay is non-operational, and only one medibot is functional. I have dispatched it to treat critical cases and administer anti-radiation therapy to the crew. I do not yet have casualty figures compiled.”
“Engine status?” If they couldn’t get the engines started again they’d just keep heading off into deep space. There was no one out here to come and rescue them. Calloway didn’t relish ending his days frozen solid as the captain of a ghost ship, careening forever into the depths of the galaxy.
“The engines are currently shut down and undergoing repairs. I have begun a diagnostic check for damage suffered during the recent period of redline thrust output.” The static on the comlink was getting worse. Calloway could make out what the AI was saying, but the interference and background noise were getting worse. “The reactor is currently operating at 10%, providing power to primary ship’s functions only until I complete a maintenance diagnostic and review of its systems.”
“Can you do something about the com?” Calloway had his hand pressing the earpiece into his ear. “It’s really bad.”
“The main internal communication system was severed in sector B2. I have temporarily rerouted traffic, but the secondary lines have suffered damage as well. I will attempt to clean up the audio and reduce the background interference.”
“Very well.” Calloway leaned back in his chair and winced as the pain in his shoulder flared up. He shifted to the other side, taking the pressure off the injury, and he pulled up the automated ship’s log on his screen. He wanted to know just what had happened over the past hour while he was in his delirious stupor. He was amazed at what he saw.
Raptor had indeed raced past the orbital station as Calloway planned it, the enemy missiles close behind and gaining. The station’s point defense tore into the spread, but the attack still left a group of missiles intact and on Raptor’s tail…more than enough to bracket and destroy the small ship.
Then, an instant later, Stingray came around from the other side of Adelaide. She had almost no velocity, but her timing was perfect. She launched a spread of ECM countermeasures that drew most of the remaining missiles off on a vector leading away from both Raptor and the planet. Then her crew unloaded with their own lasers and shotguns, destroying most of the rest of the warheads. Only two detonated close enough to Raptor to have any effect, and just one of them was in the serious damage zone. Somehow, amazingly, Calloway’s ship had survived the first round.