Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 4

  “What piece?” Rahel asked. “The Phoenix fighters are here, we have the entire cable guarded—”

  Candini pointed at the battle grid. “Their fighters. The heavy cruisers carried forty-five each. Where are they? They should have launched them at the minefield as soon as they saw the Phoenix fighters sitting out there alone. Yeah, they lost one cruiser right away, but if they’d launched immediately after, it would have been ninety against sixty. It was the perfect time to hurt the Fleet fliers before they could retreat back here. Now there are over one hundred and sixty of us up here and only forty-five of them.”

  “Maybe they miscalculated,” Rahel suggested. “They waited too long, and now it’s too late.”

  On the battle grid, eight ships swooped and dove in a deadly ballet that moved ever closer.

  Candini scowled at it. “They haven’t miscalculated much yet. Wiped out our minefield in one easy shot, upended two moons of planning—the stupidest thing was that heavy cruiser not running away before Serrado blew it to atoms.”

  “And blowing up its fellow ship right before.” Rahel had only seen a representation of it on the battle grid, but that was a glorious tactic. Captain Serrado had the biggest horns in the galaxy.

  “Yeah, but what I’m saying is, that was a captain’s dumb decision. Not the battle plan. Their plan has been sound.”

  Rahel looked up through their transparent cockpit cover. The space elevator stretched away farther than she could see, dotted at regular intervals with four-fighter flights. “And you think their plan involves not releasing their fighters?”

  “I think they’ll release them when they get here. What I can’t figure out is the strategy for holding them back. There has to be one.”

  Candini was a veteran of several battles with the Voloth. Rahel trusted her instincts. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’m making myself nervous. I hate not knowing what they’re thinking.” With a frustrated growl, she activated the quantum com on the fighter command frequency. “This is Nightwing. I’ve got a feeling the Voloth are about to unleash something we didn’t plan for. Stay alert. Expect the unexpected. Be ready to move.”

  “Helpful,” Rahel commented when she signed off.

  “If they’re expecting dokshin to fall out of the sky, they won’t be as surprised when it happens.”

  For all the forewarning, Rahel was still surprised when it happened.

  The ships arrived in a whirl of sparking shields and flying weaponry, with the four Voloth destroyers teaming up on their Fleet equivalents. The Thea and Victory were focused on defending themselves, while the Phoenix held off the heavy cruiser and took shots at the destroyers whenever it could. It looked like a battle of attrition at this point, one that could easily be tipped either way.

  The heavy cruiser broke off and ran, straight for Rahel and Candini.

  “Oh crap,” Candini said. “This looks—huh?”

  The ship dove toward Alsea with the Phoenix in hot pursuit, descending far enough into the thermosphere for their shields to be outlined by friction heat. The two glowing spots carved out the base of a parabola and rose again.

  On the battle grid, Rahel could see where that curve would lead them: right to the elevator cable.

  “Shipper shit, it’s a strafing run!” Candini activated the com. “They’re going to strafe the elevator. Evade, evade! Get behind the cable!”

  She slammed the control stick forward and shot away, leading their flight around the cable. Its shields would withstand the first strikes. Those of the fighters might not.

  Candini swiftly positioned their fighter in a vertical stance, lined up with the cable and as close as she could get without touching its shields. The others found positions above them just in time.

  The heavy cruiser sped out of the atmosphere, now flying parallel to the cable and spraying it with laser cannon fire in devastating bursts. The elevator’s shielding lit up with blinding flares, but held—and protected the fighters sheltering behind it.

  Watching the massive ship pass within a few kilometers, Rahel knew Candini’s warning had saved lives. With their lack of space battle experience, she didn’t think the Alsean pilots would have recognized that parabola for the start of a strafing run. Not until it became obvious, and by that time, it would have been too late.

  “What in the ten purple fucks is that?” In her surprise, Candini spoke in Common. “It looks like they’re ejecting a moon’s worth of garbage.”

  A cloud of small objects were tumbling through space in the cruiser’s wake. In the next moment, the Phoenix tore through them.

  Brilliant bursts of light danced along its shields.

  The great ship responded instantly, rolling away from the elevator and out of the main part of the cloud. Its missile launchers fell silent while the rail guns and laser cannons came alive, targeting the objects as it continued its chase.

  “They’re mines,” Candini swore. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”

  Their com lit up with a confirmation from the Phoenix’s weapons officer: the heavy cruiser was dropping thousands of tiny mines along the length of the elevator. They were of unknown configuration and appeared to be attracted not to pikamet radiation, but to the energy signature of shields. The Phoenix was destroying what it could, but the cruiser had to be its priority.

  “Shekking wonderful. They won’t have to sit here and fire at the elevator’s shields; the mines will do it for them.” Candini watched the cruiser as it continued its flight up the length of the cable. “I’ll bet my best boots it’s going to top out, come around, and make a second run down this side. And every one of those mines is a risk to us.” She opened the com and barked out instructions. For each flight of four fighters, two would focus on neutralizing mines while the other two would run defense, keeping mines off the shooters’ shields—and their own.

  “This won’t be anything like shooting drones,” she warned. “They won’t fire back at you, but they’ll be trying to latch on to your shielding. And there are thousands of them. Don’t get complacent and don’t get caught. Now move before that shekking ship runs down our backsides. For Fahla and Alsea!”

  She had their fighter in motion before she finished speaking, flying around the cable and straight for the swarm of miniature mines.

  What followed was the most intense, adrenaline-filled, exhausting fight Rahel had ever been in. Their war games were nothing compared to this. Not even the Battle of Alsea matched it for sheer relentless pressure. The mines came at them from all sides, constantly chasing, and their numbers never seemed to diminish. She was using both fore and aft weapons, flipping back and forth more rapidly than she had ever been required to before. The mines didn’t dodge fire like drones, but their smaller surface area made them difficult to hit.

  Adding to the stress were the evasive maneuvers Candini was forced to fly. The fighters guarding them often veered away to save themselves, and they couldn’t shoot mines that flew between them for fear of friendly fire damage. Candini was rolling, diving, and looping so much that Rahel couldn’t remember what it felt like to fly a straight line.

  Then it got worse.

  As predicted, the heavy cruiser made a second strafing run. Rahel knew the Phoenix would try to stop it but couldn’t spare a moment to glance at the battle grid. She only learned of its failure when the ship’s weapons officer came on the com to warn them that another drop of mines was in progress—and that the cruiser had finally released its fighters.

  “Shipper shit,” Candini growled before calling out a new set of orders.

  The Phoenix fighters continued to battle the mines, along with a third of the Alsean fighters. Candini took the remaining Alseans into combat with the Voloth.

  It was quickly apparent that the mines recognized the Voloth fighters and left them alone, giving them an enormous advantage. They flew unimpeded while the Alseans battled both mines and fast, aggressive two-person fighters.

  But Candini’s forces held
an advantage not even Fleet knew about: each of the flights she took into battle had one high empath gunner. While the other three fighters ran defense, the primary pilot worked to get within two or three kilometers of a Voloth fighter, depending on their gunner’s personal ability. As soon as a fighter was in range, the gunner subjected its pilot to a paralyzing projection of terror.

  The same weapon that had turned the Battle of Alsea was proven even more effective in space.

  Neither the Protectorate nor the Voloth Empire knew the true range of high empaths. Lancer Tal had long ago planted erroneous data that projections couldn’t reach beyond one to two hundred meters. The misinformation was particularly effective due to its method of dissemination: Lhyn’s book, the galaxy’s most widely read reference on Alseans.

  Rahel had once asked Lhyn about her ethical comfort with that choice. After all, her devotion to academic integrity bordered on the religious. It had been strong enough to help her withstand torture.

  “Before my torture, I don’t know if I’d have done it,” Lhyn said. “I might have asked Andira to find another way. But I spent two days having my bones broken because a Protectorate political party was afraid of Alseans. Not the Voloth, the Protectorate. After that, it was an easy decision. Am I comfortable with it? You bet.”

  What torture could not force from Lhyn, Lancer Tal received with a simple request. The results were playing out before Rahel’s eyes.

  Time after time, their flight chased down a Voloth fighter and watched it suddenly cease active movement, instead coasting on inertia in whichever direction it had been going when its pilot was mentally broken. One or two seconds after, the secondary gunner blew it to atoms.

  It was unpleasantly easy. The mines were by far the most difficult part of the battle.

  On three occasions, they ran down Voloth pilots flying in a too-close formation, enabling their high empath to break them all. Rahel destroyed four fighters and their eight occupants with less effort than was required for a level-three drone.

  She had worried about this part of the battle, fearing in her darkest moments that it might trigger the trauma shock she had only recently put behind her. As she took two more lives with a press of her thumb, she felt nothing more than the grim satisfaction of completing a distasteful task.

  Perhaps it was because this time, she didn’t see the effects of the projection. Nor was she in charge of the high empaths. It was not her order that destroyed minds.

  Distance, she concluded, helped a great deal.

  In short order, they wiped out the entire wing of Voloth fighters. Not one escaped alive. Their own losses were limited to six fighters, all injured by mines before being hit by Voloth fire. An additional five lost their shields to mines but escaped further damage; these were sent to Alsea as backup for the squadrons protecting the cities.

  Based on the reports she received, Candini was certain none of the Voloth were able to get off a distress call or any sort of warning. Their sensors had recorded no transmissions in the extremely short time between mental breaking and death.

  The truth of Alsean empathic range was still a secret, and the Voloth had no more fighters.

  “No rest for the weary,” Candini called out. “Let’s get these mines off our elevator!”

  8

  Unthinkable

  Ekatya chased the heavy cruiser all the way up the space elevator, helpless to stop its devastating attack. The laser cannon fire only softened up the elevator’s shields; that didn’t worry her. The mines were the true threat. Unfortunately, she had to leave this mess to the destroyers and fighters while she kept the cruiser away from them.

  No one in Fleet had seen anything like these miniaturized mines. They were new Voloth technology. She could only imagine how much Sholokhov would want to get his hands on one. Hades, she wanted to get her hands on one. How did they pack such a powerful explosive plus shield sensors in that small package? How long had it taken to manufacture thousands of the things?

  She had little time to wonder as the Phoenix hurtled after the cruiser, taking out as many mines as it could along the way. Before reaching the counterweight, she ordered Lieutenant Scarp to break off pursuit and cross to the other side of the elevator cable. There was no doubt in her mind that the cruiser would be making a second run. The ten fighters she had sent ahead waited near the counterweight, prepared to neutralize any missiles the Voloth threw at it.

  To her dismay, this captain was smarter than the one she had killed back at the minefield. The cruiser did not pause, firing only a handful of missiles at the counterweight before coming around with Delfin torpedoes already blasting out of its launchers. Ekatya was forced into evasive maneuvers, while her own broadside was expected and almost entirely neutralized. A few shield breakers slipped through, but she was nowhere near getting this behemoth to the point where she could take it out.

  She found some consolation in frustrating the captain’s intentions toward the space elevator, inserting her ship in the firing line and preventing the second strafing run. She paced it all the way down, launching shield breakers and forcing it to defend itself rather than target the cable.

  But she couldn’t stop the dispersal of a second swarm of mines, or the fighters that suddenly appeared from the drop bays. They dashed behind the cruiser for protection and headed back up the elevator, swiftly vanishing from her range as she continued her headlong flight down the cable. The best she could do was warn Candini.

  At the end of its strafing run, the heavy cruiser rolled away and shot off in a direction that made her heart leap into her throat.

  Her navigation officer confirmed it: the cruiser was headed for a point directly over Blacksun. Her assurance to Andira that the Voloth had never committed an orbital bombardment looked very thin now.

  “Get us there first,” she ordered. “Weapons, be alert for a possible orbital bombardment. Prepare to divert all fire to neutralize planet-bound missiles. But first, let’s give them a spin.” If they went where she was expecting, she could get in front and have time for an offensive move.

  She called the Alsean war council and shared her suspicions. Within seconds, she knew, the fighters and ground pounders surrounding both Blacksun and Blacksun Base would go on high alert. Even if her weapons couldn’t stop all the missiles, the Alseans were not helpless. This battle was far less one-sided than the last one she had fought here.

  The Phoenix had better engines and a much better pilot. They edged past the cruiser, which did not divert its course.

  “Aft weapons, fire!” she called. “Helm to port. Starboard weapons, fire!”

  The heavy cruiser captain had been expecting the attack and was ready with a defensive barrage. Shield breakers and rail gun projectiles filled the space as Ekatya ordered a rotation and another broadside. The expansive curve of Alsea flowed from one side of her display to the other, close enough at this low-orbit altitude that she could easily make out the distinctive ring of mountains around Blacksun Basin.

  She never had the chance to order a second spin. Before her horrified eyes, the ship did exactly what she had feared.

  “Orbital bombardment! Target those missiles!”

  The automated defense system would not respond to missiles that were tracking away from them. Her weapons teams would have to fire manually, a difficult task when they were already handling shield breakers at a dizzying pace.

  Still, they did her proud. She spun her chair to watch as the first rail gun projectiles tore away and closed the distance. The battle grid lit up, a succession of red circles indicating positive contact on every target.

  But something was wrong. Where were the explosions?

  “Did the sensors malfunction?” Commander Lokomorra asked.

  “Tactical,” Ekatya snapped. “Pull up the battle record and pick a target. Magnify and replay the moment of impact.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  A new square popped up over the battle grid, showing one of the missiles headed toward Alsea
. A blur streaked in from the left on an intercept course. One second later, the missile blew apart like grass in the wind, nothing but shreds of material flying away from the impact site.

  “Oh, fucking Hades,” she whispered. “No, no, no! Weapons, recall all fighters! Those are bioforce missiles!”

  This wasn’t an attack on Blacksun.

  It was genocide.

  9

  Anchored

  Salomen had leaped twice already, both times failing to connect. In all their practice jumps, even during the war games, her target ship hadn’t rocketed through space at quite these speeds, twisting and turning as it flew. She could sense the cluster of minds, knew where she wanted to go, but when she thought herself to the location, the ship was no longer there.

  Andira kept encouraging her, telling her not to worry, this was merely battle jitters and she would soon find her feet.

  She mostly believed it until Colonel Razine called from the war council. The news was terrifying: Ekatya was chasing the Voloth flagship toward Blacksun and suspected an orbital bombardment.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Andira murmured. “No matter what you hear. Our mission is exactly the same.”

  Her lack of fear helped. If Andira wasn’t frightened, then it hadn’t happened yet.

  She felt oddly detached, as if the horrific possibility existed in another time and place. Right here, right now, she was standing in the quad on Blacksun Base, feeling the diminishing breeze on her face and hearing the occasional buzzy call of a fairy fly. Radiating around her and Andira in geometric lines were thirty divine tyrees, all lending her their power. This was her reality.

  “If one of those missiles gets through, will it hurt?” she asked. “Or will we wink out and never feel it?”