John Ringo: Claws That Catch

“No, but another one I like. It was something about get in close…”

“Oh!” the TACO said. “That wasn’t a quote. It was a signal. ‘Engage the enemy more closely.’ First signal at Trafalgar, even before they were engaged.”

“That’s it,” the CO said.

“CIC, Damage Control. Compartments Eleven, Twelve and Ninety-Six breached. Six KIA, two WIA. Forward Torpedo Room out of action. Laser Two deadline. That’s a cut in the power system, we might have it repaired in about thirty minutes. Down to six guns starboard. Most of them are unrepairable and I just lost one of the gun teams in the last run.”

“Damage Control, CIC. Get the laser back up; fighters coming in,” the CO said. “What’s the status on our friend?”

“Bleeding air and various other components,” the TACO said. “In the case of Dreen ships, it’s not a metaphor, if you know what I mean. They really bleed. Still under power, though, so we can’t get through to the troopship.”

“Come in from our port,” the CO said. “We’ve got more guns left on that side and the starboard damage control teams need a break. But keep hitting their starboard. We’re going to get to the guts sooner or later.”

“ ‘If a man consults whether he is to fight, when he has the power in his own hands, it is certain that his opinion is against fighting.’ ”

“You can stop now, TACO.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Hey,” the CO said, looking around. Something that had been nearly constant, so much so that it had become background, had stopped. “What happened to the music?”

“And I will write her name and cast it to the sky,” Miriam sang, drifting shining beams across the wall of gas. The formed silhouettes of light, a circle, a swirl that resolved into a dragonfly. “ Silhouettes recede into a mother’s tearful eyes …” Her eyes were wide and staring into the distance, lost in a world of music.

“Miriam, bring it down and to the right,” Bill said. “Miriam…”

“I think she’s out of it, sir,” Carpenter said over the officer’s implant.

“It’s not much good if she’s not going to target it,” Weaver responded. “I don’t want to break her concentration, though. Come on, girl, down and to the right…”

As if his will drove it, the image of the dragonfly dove, swooping into the Dreen fleet, and appeared to grasp one of the destroyers protecting the upper side of the fleet. The destroyer, under the power of a dozen Earth suns, flashed in fire and disappeared in an instant, simply adding some constituent molecules to the gases filling the system.

“I felt that,” Miriam said, shaking her head as the beams of light collapsed, the dragonfly left as a glowing image for a moment and then fading. She grabbed her head and squeezed. “There was feedback. I don’t understand the feedback. But I could feel the ship dying.”

“You’re going to have to take it,” Bill said. “You’ve got to get into the brain-ship and take it out.”

“I know,” Miriam said, wincing. “I’ll try. I need something more soothing for now.”

“Yes!” the TACO shouted as the Dreen cruiser erupted in fire. It stopped decelerating and drifted away from the formation, trailing air and water then detonating in a flash of white. “Sierra 31 is toast !”

“We’re not much better,” Captain Prael said, looking at the damage report. “And if we don’t get one of the troopships in the next five minutes, we’re going to have nine more destroyers to deal with.”

“We got some accidental hits on Sierra 50, sir,” the TACO said, still jubilant. His job was killing other ships, other officers had to deal with the damage to this one. “Recommend next run be on Sierra 50.”

“Sir,” one of the tracking technicians said. “Sierra 41 just detonated.”

“Blue on Blue again?” the TACO asked.

“No, sir,” the technician replied. “I’m not sure why…”

“Sir,” the sensor tech interrupted. “The Tree has been making some odd emissions. I thought they were random, but a series of them just tracked across the position of Sierra 41. Emission levels were approximately six hundred exajoules of energy in the area of Sierra 41. I repeat. Six. Hundred. Exa. Joules.”

“Holy Hanna, our biggest nukes are less than a thousandth of that,” the TACO said. “That makes taking out that cruiser a pretty minor accomplishment.”

“Not really,” the CO said. “So far, that’s the only hit that the Tree’s gotten in. And if somebody doesn’t stop this task force from taking the Tree, then they’re not going to get many more. Set up an attack run on Sierra 50.”

“Already laid in, sir,” the TACO said.

“Make it so,” Prael replied. “But I’m glad that Miss Moon is back singing. Lovely voice, I’ll admit. Hearing her sing ‘I Stand Alone’ is a bit odd, though. What’s next? Ozzie?”

“Sierra 50 terminated, sir,” the TACO said as the destroyer broke apart. No secondaries, but it was in pieces and drifting which was good enough.

“Was it my imagination or was the fire much less effective that time?” the CO asked.

“No, sir, it wasn’t your imagination,” the TACO said. “Return fire rate was lower and less interlocked. Don’t know why. But we took a lot less damage. And there’s a hole we can fire through to one of the troop carriers.”

“No, take out one more destroyer, first,” the CO said. “That will ensure we can get through. Sierra… 48. Set that up.”

“Ready, sir,” the TACO said a moment later.

“Engage.”

Status of boarding force.

‹Units 1,336,788 and 25,463,785 destroyed. Enemy combat unit damaged, 70% reduction in fire, significant air and water loss. Enemy combat unit preparing new attack run. Estimate loss of one Ground Combat Carrier prior to arrival of secondary escort group. Arrival at space station in point four turns.›

“Dreen fighters redeployed around the boarding group,” the TACO said. “Boarding group entering warp-denial field.”

The CIC was more than just evacuated at this point. Despite being deep in the interior of the ship, light could be seen coming in.

On the other hand, they’d managed to destroy six Dreen destroyers, one of the troop carriers and the cruiser. Not a bad haul, even if they had gotten the ship blown to ribbons.

“That’s all we can do here,” Captain Prael said. “Let’s go pick up our dragonflies and see if we can get the old girl patched up. The rest is up to Commander Weaver. If he can get it together.”

“Look, the brain works in strange ways, okay?” Miriam said defiantly. “Mine especially. I’ve tried just about every song you two can’t mangle too badly. I’ve thought about beams of light, lightning, hammers, everything I can think of. Nothing seems to work. ‘Dragonfly’ worked once. I just can’t get it to work again. But there’s something there, I know it. I can feel it.”

“You know, it actually was the dragonfly,” Carpenter said. “I mean, that was the attack method. A big, glowing, green and yellow dragonfly. Does that help?”

“Yeah,” Bill said. “I mean, what hit the ship was the beams, but the thing that attacked them was a dragonfly.”

“I made a dragonfly?” Miriam asked, blinking. “Cool.”

“Well, it was like a laser light-show dragonfly,” Bill pointed out. “It was about as insubstantial as mist.”

“That just makes it cooler,” Miriam said. “A mist dragonfly is cooler than a real one.”

“But that’s what did it,” the petty officer said. “That big mist dragonfly… ate the destroyer. Does that help?”