Battlecruiser Alamo: Operation Damocles Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Starfighter

  OPERATION DAMOCLES

  Battlecruiser Alamo: Book 20

  Richard Tongue

  Battlecruiser Alamo #20: Operation Damocles

  Copyright © 2016 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: July 2016

  Cover By Keith Draws

  With thanks to Ellen Clarke and Rene Douville

  All characters and events portrayed within this ebook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Join the Triplanetary Universe Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/A9MdX

  He passed in the very battle-smoke

  Of the war that he had descried.

  Three hundred mile of cannon spoke

  When the Master-Gunner died.

  He passed to the very sound of the guns;

  But, before his eye grew dim,

  He had seen the faces of the sons

  Whose sires had served with him,

  He had touched their sword-hilts and greeted each

  With the old sure word of praise;

  And there was virtue in touch and speech

  As it had been in old days.

  So he dismissed them and took his rest,

  And the steadfast spirit went forth

  Between the adoring East and West

  And the tireless guns of the North.

  Clean, simple, valiant, well-beloved,

  Flawless in faith and fame,

  Whom neither ease nor honours moved

  An hair's-breadth from his aim.

  Never again the war-wise face,

  The weighed and urgent word

  That pleaded in the market-place-

  Pleaded and was not heard!

  Yet from his life a new life springs

  Through all the hosts to come,

  And Glory is the least of things

  That follow this man home.

  “Lord Roberts”, by Rudyard Kipling

  Chapter 1

   Lieutenant Kristen Harper, commander of the Triplanetary Scoutship Daedalus, sat in her command chair, eyes locked on the viewscreen. The same dull, gray world that they had been orbiting for four days hung alone in the darkness, only a halo of distant stars for company. The dim brown dwarf that was the system's primary was behind them, a star that had, uncounted billions of years ago, failed to ignite, a mere flickering ember slowly fading to nothing.

   She flicked a switch on her console, bringing up a tactical view, and shook her head. There was probably more activity in this system than there had ever been in all of history. The fleet was only here because the small moon, currently hidden behind the planet, housed a small Consortium outpost, a man-tended installation used by the Neander raiders to resupply their ships. Now, a dozen ships swarmed around the world in loose clusters, Alamo at the heart of a formation of seven vessels, and two squadrons, of three and two, waiting at the two egress points on constant patrol, waiting for trouble.

   It was strange to watch the three different ship designs flying around each other, the Koltoc Monitors hovering in tight formation, locked in a defensive ring around Alamo, while the Consortium vessels, crewed to a man by wild Neander, moved in an endless dance, spiraling through the stars with endless grace. She knew which fleet she would rather serve with, given the choice.

   Throwing in a filter, she magnified the display to highlight the local area, the hendecaspace point she was charged to defend. Three ships, her Daedalus in the middle, and the two Consortium craft on either side, the Red Avenger and the Random Walk. If nothing else, they had good taste in names.

   To the rear of the bridge, the doors slid open to admit the lithe form of Sub-Lieutenant Katherine Scott, her second-in-command, who looked at the display with a sigh before settling down at the empty tactical station, bringing the console online with the flick of a switch.

   “Nothing from the flagship yet?” she asked, and Harper shook her head.

   “Afraid not. Last I heard, the Captain was in conference with Powell, Kilquan and Skeuros over our next move. They're still stuck on three systems, and nothing to choose between them.” Frowning, she added, “I know that Cantrell is still pushing for us to send out pickets instead.”

   Scott's eyes widened, and she said, “Nice and boring for two ships, far too interesting for the one that actually finds the enemy fleet. I presume we'd be one of the lucky ones?”

   “Us, Random Walk, Safe Margin.”

   “One from each fleet. I suppose that's nice and fair, but I still think it's a bad idea. Unless the assumption would be that whichever ship failed to return had found what we've been looking for.”

   “I don't think the Captain will do it,” Harper replied. “I know how Cantrell feels, though. Four weeks since we left Testament Station, and this is our third miss in a row. And all the time, the Xandari are gathering their forces and strengthening their fleet for an attack. If we've got any strategic advantage, it's ebbing by the day.”

   “Ma'am?” Arkhipov reported from the sensor station. “I'm getting some odd readings from the egress point. It might be nothing, just normal fluctuation, but it seems to be building.”

   “Battle stations,” Harper ordered, and the bridge crew jerked into life, combat systems coming on line, reports flooding in from stations all across the ship as Daedalus prepared for action. Ingram, at the communications station, rattled off a series of instructions to the other ships, then turned with a grimace to Harper.

   “I've got Major Melnos for you, Captain. I don't think he's happy.”

   “Put him on,” she replied, and the fierce face of Random Walk's commander flickered onto the screen.

   “If we went to battle stations every time we had a sensor flicker...”

   “Major, on the chance this is an enemy attack, I don't want to be sitting here defenseless, and neither do you. Worst case, we've just had a surprise battle stations drill, and I don't think that will do us any harm.”

   “What are you implying?” he asked.

   She quietly counted to ten in Russian, then replied, “That I want this squadron to be ready to face anything that might be coming into the system, whether it is friend or foe. If you want to take it up with the flagship, I suggest you contact them directly. Daedalus out.”

   “No one would ever accuse you of being too diplomatic, Kris,” Scott said from her console. “Weapons systems on-line, and I've got a salvo in the tubes, ready to go.”

   “Readings, Spaceman?” Harper asked, turning back to the sensor technician.

   “Building slowly,” he replied.

   “Keep watching it. Ingram, alert Alamo, and request that they bring the fleet to standby alert.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” the technician replied.

   “Armstrong,” she said, moving over to the helm, “program
an evasive pattern, and bring the engines to full power on my command. We might have to build up some speed in a hurry.” Reaching over to the console and stabbing a button, she continued, “Lombardo, you down there?”

   “I'm here,” he replied with a yawn. “I was having such a lovely dream, as well.”

   “Comes with the territory,” she said. “Don't worry, she'll still be there tonight.”

   “If I'd known how much sleep these damn pips would cost me, Captain, I'd have told you what to do with them!” After a second's pause, he added, “I know what's coming next, and I'm already setting up for 105% on the main reactor. Give me five minutes, and I might be able to do a little better than that.”

   “Thanks, Sub-Lieutenant. I'll try and give you a nice boring fight.”

   “Better still, don't give me a fight at all. Too much mess to clear up. Engineering out.”

   Harper shook her head, moved back to her chair, and called up the situation report. The other ships were finally getting to battle stations, and Daedalus was ready to go. She glanced back at the sensor station, Arkhipov intently looking at his readouts. All was quiet on the bridge, as though they might be able to hear something coming towards them.

   “Strong buildup!” Arkhipov yelled. “Multiple ships incoming, any time now!”

   “Armstrong, get us moving,” Harper said. “Ingram, I want all ships on evasive maneuvers. Then contact Alamo and...”

   “Here it comes!” Scott said, and a blinding blue flash appeared on the screen as a battered ship tumbled out into normal space. It looked Koltoc by design, one of their heavy freighters, lumbering slowly as her thrusters struggled to stabilize her. Huge rents tore down the hull, the marks of multiple missile impacts in the recent past.

   “We're getting a signal,” Ingram said.

   “Put it through, on the double!” she said, expecting an albino Koltoc to appear on the screen. Instead, a grim-faced man wearing an unfamiliar scarlet uniform appeared, a bandage wrapped around his head and his arm in a sling.

   “We've got three Xandari ships right behind us,” the man said. “I'm transmitting tactical data to you now. Estimate thirty seconds before we have company.”

   “Can you maneuver?” she asked.

   “Not quickly enough,” he replied.

   Shaking her head, Scott said, “We can't get to that ship in time to protect it. I'd recommend that they abandon ship.”

   Armstrong looked back at her, and said, “Then they'll be even more vulnerable, ma'am. I don't think the Xandari would hesitate to shoot down an escape pod.”

   “Dimensional instability building,” Arkhipov said.

   Nodding, Harper said, “Let's give the Xandari something else to think about, then. Set us up for an attack run, Midshipman. Maximum acceleration. Ingram, see if you can convince the rest of the formation to join us.”

   Scott's eyes widened as she saw the tactical data stream in from the crippled freighter, and she warned, “Three ships, all of them larger than ours, Kris. We're outmatched.”

   “All the more reason to hit them before they can get themselves oriented. Commence attack run.”

   “Five seconds to emergence,” Ingram said.

   “Alamo is moving up with the rest of the formation,” Arkhipov said. “They'll be here in twelve minutes.” Glancing up at another panel, he said, “Dimensional instability at maximum.”

   Another three flashes briefly lit the sky, and a trio of sleek shapes slid into normal space, Xandari Heavy Scoutships. On Harper's panel, detailed statistics ran across the screen, almost too fast for her to read. Four missile tubes, and as agile as Daedalus, their only weakness being a lack of serious armor. These vessels were designed for hit and run, or for pursuit, not for taking on enemy capital ships. At least that meant the Xandari hadn't known what was waiting for them in this system.

   “Combat range in ten seconds,” Scott said, looking up at her panel. “Recommend we focus on the lead ship. We're more likely to have an impact that way.”

   “Agreed,” Harper said. “Armstrong, alter our course to draw them away from the freighter. We've got to give them some cover, and that's the only way we're going to be able to do it.”

   “Energy spike!” Arkhipov said. “We've got twelve missiles in the air, heading our way!”

   “They're early,” Scott said, frowning as she looked at the readouts. “Nothing I've ever seen before, but they seem on the large side.” Shaking her head, she continued, “The warheads look a bit smaller than normal, though. I think they're ours.”

   “More borrowed technology?” Harper asked.

   “Mark Sevens, I think, but they've done something to the after-section.”

   Turning from the engineering console, Ingram said, “Two-stage!”

   “A two-stage missile?” Scott replied, shaking her head. “No one's ever got that to work.”

   “But it would give them greater range and acceleration, especially in the final stages of the attack.”

   Turning back to her console, Scott said, “Firing range in three. What do I do?”

   “Fire defensive,” Harper said, sliding out of her chair. “But leave yourself open to changing targets if we get a chance. At least they're shooting at us, not the freighter.”

   Daedalus rocked as her four missiles raced away, Scott tracking them towards their swiftly moving targets. On the screen, a tangle of trajectory tracks appeared, interlaced with each other, twelve against ten charging through space as though on some sort of crazy joust. Harper moved over to the vacant electronic warfare station, a smile on her face. This was where she really belonged, the theater of operations she knew best, and her hands moved among the familiar controls, loading up her hacking programs, all of them custom-designed over the last year.

   When they'd first retaken this ship, it was old and obsolete, but she'd had all the time she needed to improve these systems. Only a handful of the original components remained, here and down in the communications suite, and the software she'd installed to replace the original antiquated packages would have baffled the original creators. Now she was sitting at a state of the art console, with a few antique touches remaining to confuse her foe.

   While her systems began their first interface attempt, Harper looked around the bridge. Her bridge. Scott was guiding her missiles onto their targets, fine-tuning the guidance systems to place the warheads where they would do the most damage, and Armstrong was still working her random walk course, while swinging around back towards their objective. Arkhipov rode the sensors like the veteran he was, and Fitzroy sat at the engineering monitor station, waiting for something to happen. Hopefully, he'd have a nice, boring battle.

   A light flashed on, and she smiled. Her system had completed its handshake with the incoming missiles, and she could start burrowing through the firewall, switching to manual control as she began her battle with the distant defender. A month ago, she wouldn't have been able to do this, but the data they'd received from their new allies had given them enough knowledge to adapt their systems. It helped that the Xandari were a race of scavengers in any case, stealing their technology from every neighboring interstellar power and slamming it together into a melange of components and software.

   As she worked, she could see familiar fragments of design, a Triplanetary targeting program, seven generations out-of-date, but still tough enough to infiltrate that she postponed it for later. The Lunar Republic had donated the guidance control systems, a simple set-up that had been ruled out as obsolete five years ago, but she worked deeper, rummaging through the systems. Then, with a smile, she stopped, as she ran across the sensor analysis program, loaded with a full profile of its target. A United Nations design, and surprisingly modern. One more detail to remember later, when she was preparing her after-action report.

   For the present, she'd found what she was looking for. Simply knocking down the enemy missiles might not be enough
, not with two more readied for launch. Throwing a control, she tied her ship's sensors into the electronic warfare station, bundling data into a package to replace the targeting data on the incoming missiles.

   An amber light flashed, and she frowned as she threw a series of switches, activating another series of countermeasure programs. Someone was trying to block her, and worse, to use the link she'd established to infiltrate Daedalus. Her firewall was strong enough to stop that from happening, but she could lead her opponent in, wasting his time in a futile bid to hack into her systems, while giving her all the chance she needed to break into the missiles.

   Perfection wasn't needed here. Her formation had ten missions to play with, against only twelve of the enemy, and was moving fast enough that the Xandari were only going to get a single shot. With satisfaction, she saw that the enemy vessels were moving away from the freighter, vastly reducing the chances that they would get a strike on the wounded craft.

   Her hands continued to fly across the panel as she continued to dig her way into the enemy formation. With a smile, she locked into the first of the missiles, and switching targeting data, and watched with satisfaction as its engine ceased, the warhead beginning to spin around as it homed towards a new target. It never had a chance to find it, the self-destruct system reacting first, a brief flash of fire as the missile detonated harmlessly in space.

   One more to go. Daedalus and her companions flashed past the Xandari ships, Armstrong already working in a quick turn, a long arc to swing them around for a potential second pass, fifteen or twenty minutes in the future. Still the missiles dove towards each other, the first wave beginning to detonate as they made contact. She was focusing her attention on the rear of the formation, a trio of enemy missiles traveling closely together, and finally found what she was looking for.

   The last missile paused, then started to fall away from the formation, two others joining it, engines crippled, on a course that would send them flying through space forever, no longer a threat. Sitting back in her chair, she turned to Scott with a smile on her face.