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Chapter Forty-One


Corvette Taregon’s Pride, off R’Bak


“The Kulsians are firing on the asteroids!” the tactical officer shouted.

“I see that,” Reetan acknowledged grimly as he studied the plot. A single missile launched from four of the ships in the first group, with each missile going toward a different asteroid. “They don’t know which one is Outpost . . . ” he mused, then he sighed. “I wish we could have gotten closer, but we can’t let them keep banging on them.

“Stellan, did you see which one did not just fire?”

“I did.”

“I want four missiles into that one. Two missiles for all the rest.”

“It’s a long shot from here . . . ”

“But they don’t know we’re coming, and they aren’t maneuvering much. Besides, I want their attention on us, and this is the fastest way to get it.” He gazed at his tactical officer a moment, and when Stellan looked up, he asked, “Ready?”

“I am,” the tactical officer said with a nod.

Reetan winked and switched to the radio. “Reserve Squadron. On my command, execute fire mission Alpha. Stand by . . . Fire!”

Four missiles ripple fired from the Pride and two of the other corvettes in the squadron.

“Is there some reason that only two other ships fired?” Reetan asked. “This was our chance to hit them when they weren’t ready.”

“Both ships are indicating they had launch malfunctions.”

“Launch malfunctions? We need those missiles! We’re outnumbered two to one, and we just kicked over an astakos nest. Tell them to get them online now!”


FOB “Outpost,” spinward Trojans of R’Bak


“That is the weirdest attack plan I’ve ever seen,” Wisniewski said as the missiles from the Reserve Squadron began slamming into the Kulsian corvettes. “Any guess what Reetan was thinking?”

“I really don’t have a clue,” Fiezel replied. “I think his ship fired four missiles at the one ship in the group that hadn’t fired. No idea why.”

“That’s the leader of that group,” the SpinDog said. He hadn’t left after being told not to fire the railgun, but instead had stayed to watch the missile attack on the plot.

“How do you know? Wouldn’t the leader want the glory of leading the attack against us?”

The SpinDog chuckled. “As you said, they didn’t know which one we’re hiding in. So, rather than incur the expense of a wasted missile, he had the ships under him fire.” Three of Reetan’s missiles slammed into that corvette. “I think he just eliminated their leader.”

“What about the other ones, then? Only two of his other ships fired, with two missiles at a couple of ships in the first group, and two each at two ships in the second group? How do you explain that?”

The SpinDog smiled. “The RockHounds build shitty ships?”

“What do you mean?”

“With surprise on his side, I expect he tried to hit all of the enemy ships. It looks like two of his ships had difficulties firing their missiles—like I said, shitty ships.” The SpinDog shrugged and pointed to the plot. “Either way, it looks like he’s gotten their attention off us.”

On the plot, the seven remaining Kulsian ships began accelerating and turned to take the new threat under fire, and within seconds, missiles raced away from them in response.

“I hope their point defense systems work,” Wisniewski muttered as the missiles neared the reserve fleet.


Corvette Taregon’s Pride, off R’Bak


“Well, you wanted their attention,” Stellan said.

“No, I wanted them dead. I did not want them coming after us, and I definitely didn’t want them shooting at us.” He sighed as the Kulsians began firing missiles. “And here they come. Three missiles each on two ships from the second group.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t care. Whichever you think is the leader and one more. Who fired first? Hit that one and one of the others.”

The reserve force released chaff and turned away from the threat, giving the oncoming missiles as small a target as possible and reducing the closure rate, while still allowing the aft lasers to target them. The only problem was that if they didn’t destroy all the missiles, the weapons would hit in a vulnerable place. One of his ships—Four, one of the ones with an operable weapons system—was hit in its motor and dropped out of formation.

Reetan called for a turn back toward the Kulsians and found that his missiles had been successful. Only five Kulsian corvettes were headed toward his four ships. Of course, only one of them, plus his own, had operable weapons systems . . . 

“Comms officer, where are Three and Five with getting their weapons working?” Reetan asked.

“One rebooted his system and is waiting for it to re-initialize. One has an electrical failure they’re working on. Both need time to finish troubleshooting.”

“They realize that’s the one thing we don’t have, right?”

“They’re working on them.”

“Time,” Reetan muttered. “Pilot, right forty-five degrees, comms, tell them to stack on us.”

The other ships shifted formation moving up “above” the Pride compared to the Kulsians, who fired another round of missiles. The tactical officers worked furiously, but two missiles hit Two and Three, and both dropped out of formation.

Suddenly, Five came to life, and three missiles leaped out toward the Kulsians, and two more dropped out of their formation, leaving three Kulsians against his two ships. As the two ships began turning back to the Kulsians, he thought furiously, looking for an edge. He’d never been a fan of the new technology, but he really hoped it wouldn’t let him down now.


FOB “Outpost,” spinward Trojans of R’Bak


“Now what do you suppose they’re going to do?” Wisniewski asked as the Hound-Dog ships skew-turned back toward the Kulsians. “Laser and railgun duel with the Kulsians?”

“Looks like it. I think all the ships must be out of missiles.” The remaining ships made a run at each other, but it was impossible to determine if any of them had been hit.

As the Kulsians extended away from the firing run before turning back toward the Hound-Dogs, there was a Thump!

“What the hell was that?” Fiezel asked.

“That felt like they just fired the railgun,” Wisniewski said. “Hey, where’d that guy go?”

Fiezel looked around but didn’t see the SpinDog who’d wanted to fire the station’s massive railgun. Built to launch small craft and drones from the station, as well as to send material between Outpost and the habitats, the railgun was mounted in the center of the asteroid and normally fired large tubs several meters long.

On the plot, a blip fired out from Outpost, before turning into a number of smaller targets, which then disappeared. Thump!

Fiezel spotted the man bent over a console across the room with a headset over his ears, and he ran over to him. “What are you doing? You’ll give away our presence!”

“They’re going to lose without our help,” the man said. “I’m doing what I can to take away the Kulsian advantage.”

“What are you firing?” Fiezel asked.

The man chuckled. “Anything they can find and load. I think we’re going to need a lot of office furniture when we’re done. And kitchen utensils. They’re leaving the tubs unsealed, so whatever’s loaded will spread out after launch. It’s not very likely to hit them, but more so than if we used a single slug.”

“Basically, like a giant shotgun,” Fiezel said.

“Whatever that is,” the man said. “We have to do what we can to help them.”

Fiezel stared at him for a second, thinking, then he nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Fire,” the man said into his microphone. Thump!

Kulsian corvette Pillager, approaching spinward Trojans of R’Bak


“Next pass, we both fire at the one in the lead,” Marksa said. “That one tore the Reaver to shreds on the last pass.”

“There are two of us and two of them,” his tactical officer said. “Surely their technology isn’t as good as ours.”

Marksa pointed to one of the long holes in the overhead where the ship was open to space. “Theirs is obviously good enough to do that! Thankfully, it didn’t hit anything vital.”

Pink! Pink! Pink! Pink!

A number of hard objects hit the skin of the ship like metallic rain.

“Pilot, what was that?”

“Must have been some asteroids or debris from the missiles that have been fired.”

“I don’t think so,” the tactical officer said. He held up his arm, from which a piece of metal was sticking out.

“What is that?” Marksa asked.

“I think”—the man sounded confused as he looked at the splinter of metal, then he pulled it out and slapped a hand over the three small holes in his space suit—“it’s a fork?”

“Where did a fork come from?” Marksa turned back to his console. A steak knife protruded from the bulkhead. “Pilot!” he yelled. “One of the asteroids is firing at us. Figure out which one!”

“We got hit when we went past the last asteroid in the formation,” the pilot said. “That’s probably where they’re firing from.”

“Pillager, Reaper,” a voice came over the radio before Marksa could act on the information. “We have repaired our damage and have three missiles operational. Do you want us to shoot them at the ships you’re fighting?”

“No,” Marksa said. “We will deal with these ships. One of the asteroids is shooting at us, though. Coordinate with my pilot and tactical officer, and use your missiles on the asteroid.”


Corvette Taregon’s Pride, off R’Bak


“Missiles!” the comms officer exclaimed. “Outpost says there are missiles headed toward them!”

“What?” Reetan asked. “Where did they come from?” He broadened the view of the plot and saw the missiles heading from one of the Kulsians he’d previously thought destroyed. “Damn!” There was no way he could get into range to intercept them in time. The new technology was good, but it was easy to get too focused on your little battle and lose the big picture, as he noted . . . yet again. All three missiles slammed into Outpost.

“It’s time to end this, Four,” Reetan said over the radio. “We’ve got to kill these two before that last one does anything else to Outpost. Join on us and follow the targeting I send you.” The new technology had allowed them to mass their fire on the last pass, destroying one of the Kulsians and damaging one of the others. He’d marked that one; they’d finish it first, and then the other, then they’d go kill the one launching missiles, hopefully before it launched any more or did anything else to Outpost.

Four moved into position alongside the Pride.

“Here we go.” Both ships started forward at the same time the Kulsians accelerated toward them, almost like a medieval jousting tournament that had dual riders on each side, not that Reetan would have understood the reference.

The Hound-Dog ships spread slightly so they could maneuver, as the Kulsians’ railguns had an edge in range. It was, however, easier to make it miss by maneuvering. While the Kulsians could also dodge the Hound-Dogs’ railguns, they couldn’t dodge the Hound-Dogs’ lasers, beyond trying to keep from being accurately targeted. Movement didn’t help the damaged Kulsian, as Four speared it as soon as it came in range, and a lucky railgun round gutted the cockpit. It began tumbling in a straight line, and Reetan’s next rounds finished it off.

Despite being told to keep maneuvering, though, Four maintained a constant course for a few seconds. Whether that was to give his system a stable platform for targeting the Kulsian corvette, Reetan would never know. Four opened up on the Kulsian at the same time a railgun round smashed through the front of it, then a second one ripped through it.

“No!” Reetan exclaimed as his tactical officer found the range, ripping open the last Kulsian. Something inside it exploded a second later.

“Comms, call Four and see if they’re okay,” Reetan said. “Tactical, let’s go kill the corvette that just fired on Outpost.”

“I’m not getting anything from Four, sir,” the comms officer said.

“Nor am I showing anything on the plot,” the tactical officer said, confirming what Reetan had already seen. “They just dropped out. They’re gone.”

Reetan nodded once, adding the pilot of Four—a cousin of his—to his list of people to grieve for later. Right now, though, there were some Kulsians he could still take out his anger on. “Let’s go get that last one. Full speed.”


Kulsian corvette Reaper, off R’Bak


There was no escaping the rogue corvette chasing them down, the Reaper’s commanding officer knew. Their power plant was only able to get about sixty-five percent, and they had no more operational missiles. Their railgun had also been damaged when they’d been hit by the missiles at the start of the engagement. They couldn’t outrun the rogue corvette, nor could they outfight it . . . but they could reach back from the grave to ensure the leaders back home found out what happened, so that they sent more forces next time.

“Comms officer, use the snoop satellite to send back a message to Kulsis. Here is what I want you to tell them . . . ”


Corvette Taregon’s Pride, off R’Bak


The final Kulsian ship blew up as Reetan’s ship hit its propellant tanks with his railgun. The threat was over, but Reetan didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Outpost had been hit with four missiles, and the last corvette had gotten a message off, probably to Kulsis. While he hadn’t “failed” in his job as leader of the reserve force—he’d destroyed the force sent to eradicate Outpost without allowing them to achieve their goal—he’d lost his force doing so, which left a bad taste in his mouth.

While preventing the Kulsians from getting a message off hadn’t been a mission goal, Reetan couldn’t imagine anything good coming from it, if indeed the message made it back to Kulsis.

Reetan sighed, opening out the tactical plot. The battle for R’Bak was still going on, although both sides were considerably diminished. He only had one ship, but it was mostly operational. He smiled. It was finally time for the reserve force—such as it was—to join the main battle.


Corvette J’axon’s Revenge, off R’Bak


“What do you think?” Targ asked as he surveyed the plot. Even though he knew it was impossible for him to smell smoke inside the enclosed environment of his shipsuit, that didn’t stop traces of it from tickling his nose. The Hound-Dogs were down to nine functional craft, and all of them had sustained damage, including the railgun round that had gone through the Revenge, missing him by only six inches. Raptis’s craft and his were the only two Aegis ships remaining, but they still had a good picture of the battle from the Dornaani satellites.

“I think we’re hanging on by a thread,” the tactical officer replied. “We’ve lost over half our force, and the ships we still have are in bad shape.”

“As badly as it hurts to be us, it has to hurt even worse to be them,” Targ replied. “They’ve lost over three-quarters of their frontline warships, including their frigate, and they only have a handful of corvettes remaining, supported by a few up-armored cargo ships. It’s become a matter of wills—who wants this more.” He smiled. “And that person is me.”

Targ changed to his radio. “Hound-Dog Seven, J’axon’s Revenge.”

“J’axon’s Revenge, Hound-Dog Seven.” Malanye Raptis coughed over the radio then said, “Go ahead.”

“I think they are done. They cannot have much left.”

“We don’t either, though. What are you thinking?”

“I think that if we attack them for once, it is going to break them. I think they’re going to run.”

“If they don’t, we will be outgunned by them in close.”

“We will, which is why I’m asking for your concurrence.”

There was a long pause, but then Raptis’s voice came over the radio. The touch of doubt was gone. “Bowden once said that it doesn’t matter who’s against you; what matters is who’s beside you. I’d be honored to fight alongside you and take the battle to them for once.”

Targ nodded to himself. SpinDogs and RockHounds fighting together to rid their system of the Kulsians. As they should. A picture Bowden had shown him once of ground combat on his planet came to mind. A group of men mounted on beasts that looked nothing like whinaalanis, dressed in armor with wings on their backs, riding out against overwhelming odds to save their city from a horde of marauders. “Form a line abreast on me,” he said over the common channel so all the remaining captains would hear. As the ships slid into formation, he made one final transmission. “Charge!”


Corvette Taregon’s Pride, off R’Bak


The charge was a thing of beauty to behold, Reetan thought as his corvette eased into the line of battle racing toward the enemy. Not because the line was perfect—it wasn’t; several of the ships had damage and lagged slightly—or because of the magnificence of their vessels, which were beaten to shit, but because for the first time in system history, the SpinDogs and RockHounds were working together willingly.

He took a handful of seconds to savor the moment, then he studied the opponents waiting for them a short distance away. Targ had aimed his ship at the core of the Kulsian forces—a group of four corvettes that seemed to be leading the force, as much as any group actually “led” it. Throughout the battle, the Kulsian attacks had been uncoordinated at best, as a handful or two of ships would try to rush one end or another of the Hound-Dog line. They would get in some shots before retreating, usually with fewer of their own ships remaining.

The other Hound-Dog ships closed in on Targ, and he raced forward, creating an arrowhead aimed at the heart of the Kulsian resistance.

The Kulsian corvettes began moving, spreading out to give themselves room to maneuver. The other Kulsian ships went into motion, too, but it was quickly apparent that many of them were fleeing. Almost all the cargo vessels ran for the safety of the planet, and Reetan shook his head. Some of those craft weren’t made to land on the planet, and others had damage that would make reentry perilous—at best—without repairs. Even with them, he expected many would still experience fatal burn-throughs.

As his attention returned to the main combatant forces, he saw their motion hadn’t ceased, nor had they turned to aim their weapons at the approaching Hound-Dogs. They’d all separated, and they were running, too!

The Hound-Dogs, committed to the maneuver, raced through where the enemy had been, with only a few ships actually getting shots off at the handful of Kulsian ships that’d waited too long to flee. His tactical officer drilled one on the periphery of the formation, and the Pride’s lasers sliced open a thinly skinned cargo ship and vented most of it to space.

“Should we chase them down?” Raptis asked.

“We’ll go after the corvettes in teams of three,” Targ said. “The cargo ships are no danger. Allow anyone that wants to surrender to do so; kill anyone who refuses. Hurry, though; there are a lot of ships that will require assistance.”

“Are we assisting the Kulsians?” one of the captains asked.

“Of course we are,” Targ said. “Right after we ensure the safety of our people. If they expire in the meantime, that’s just more spoils for us.”


Aegis corvette Hornet, off R’Bak


Burg Hrensku worked the controls of his maneuvering unit and slowed himself as he approached the derelict ship. A sense of foreboding came over him as he surveyed it from up close. No signs of life or power were in evidence, not even the emergency lighting. The crew’s shipsuits would have lasted three hours or so . . . but it had been over five since the ship had been hit and gone dead. Having flown past the aft end of the ship as it tumbled slowly through space, he could see why. The missile that had hit the motor had blown away a large portion of the engine and had mangled the parts that remained; it would need to be replaced before the ship would fly again. Not repaired; replaced.

He worked the controls on the airlock and entered. Unlike many ships, there was no window into the ship, so he had to wait to know more until he could manually shut the exterior door and cycle atmosphere in from the ship. At least the interior was still pressurized. That was something, although it had to be getting cold inside. Very cold. And it wasn’t like you could light a fire to stay warm, like you could on the planet below.

Five people waited for him inside. “Burg!” Bowden said as he entered. “Good to see you. What took you so long?”

“Well, there was this matter of fighting a desperate battle against incredible odds, as I heard you explain it to Dave Fiezel.”

“And . . . ?”

“And what?”

“Did we win?”

“Well, Outpost got hit—”

“What?”

“It got hit by several missiles before Reetan could kill the attacking Kulsians. Outpost received significant, but not catastrophic, damage. The Kulsian fleet, though . . . their damage was catastrophic.” Burg paused and squared his shoulders. “You asked if we won. Yes, we did.” Burg smiled his biggest smile. “SpinDogs, RockHounds, and Lost Soldiers, all fighting together. We won it. Together.”

Bowden reached out to steady himself with the nearest handhold. “Send that message. Along with sitrep code ‘alpha.’ Tight beam to Spin One and Pakir Station. Also . . . uh, to the dirtside relay microsat.” Bowden sounded sleepy, or perhaps groggy with exhaustion and relief.

Burg secured himself with his left hand so that he could lift the other in a slow, but very precise Lost Soldier salute. “Aye, aye, Admiral.”


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