Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

Two missiles leaped from Manticore as the heavy cruiser raced to an intercept that went past in less time than the blink of an eye, hell lances and grapeshot lashing out on the heels of the missiles. All around the loose perimeter of defenders, other warships were closing to contact, weapons pummeling each other.

Marphissa could only wait to see the outcomes of engagements that took place far too rapidly for human senses to register.

The light cruiser targeted by Manticore had tried another last-second evasive maneuver, but Manticore ’s missiles had both slammed home, inflicting massive damage amidships that had been joined by numerous hits from hell lances and grapeshot that had riddled the light cruiser’s bow. All weapons and many other systems out of commission, thrown off of his intended course by the missile impacts, the Syndicate light cruiser spun away helplessly.

Behind and below the freighters, light cruisers Harrier , Kite , and Eagle hit another Syndicate light cruiser in successive firing passes within a few seconds of each other. In their wake, an expanding ball of dustlike debris marked all that was left of the Syndicate warship after its power core had overloaded under the blows.

One of the Syndicate HuKs also died as light cruiser Falcon caught it with a perfect barrage that tore apart the small, lightly armored warship.

The light cruiser targeted by Kraken , though, was coming up from almost dead astern, his approach prolonged by the stern chase, and saw the other two light cruisers destroyed. He broke off from his firing run, climbing above the formation, out of range of Kraken ’s weapons.

The three surviving Syndicate HuKs, all bearing wounds from clashes with Midway HuKs, also had second thoughts, tearing away to right, left, and below-ahead of the Midway formation.

Marphissa inhaled deeply, wondering how long it had been since she had breathed. “I wonder if we got Qui.”

“He might have been on one of those light cruisers we destroyed,” Diaz said. “Or he might have been the one who decided to save his own skin.”

“He is a snake,” Marphissa agreed. She rubbed her eyes and refocused on her display. “They could still get us.” Moving carefully, she touched her comm controls. “All units, this is Kommodor Marphissa. Very well done. But we cannot relax yet. It is another forty-five minutes until we reach the gate. I am redistributing assigned targets. Make sure anyone who attacks again does not survive.”

She assigned the sole remaining Syndicate light cruiser as a target for both Manticore and Kraken , then distributed her light cruisers and HuKs to watch the three remaining Syndicate HuKs. Are we safe? They shouldn’t be able to make it to the freighters now. But I can’t relax, can’t assume they won’t try again out of desperation. Can’t relax. Don’t dare relax. Not yet.

“Kommodor?”

Marphissa blinked at the senior watch specialist who had called to her, trying to reorient thoughts that had been locked obsessively on the Syndicate flotilla. “What is it?”

“Kommodor, our hypernet key indicates that Midway’s gate is accessible.”

“It’s…” Marphissa looked away from the Syndicate warships, seeing the hypernet gate looming massive and near.

“We’re here,” Diaz said, his voice disbelieving. “We’re at the gate.”

“When can we leave?” Marphissa asked. “Is the destination entered?”

“We can leave at your command, Kommodor. Midway is entered as the destination.”

She took another look at the Syndicate warships, which had begun to fall back, increasing the distance between them and the Midway Flotilla. Her own warships were still ranging out from the freighters, but were within the radius that could be set for the hypernet key. “Go. Now. All ships.”

There was no jolt to the nervous system as in entering jump space, but even if there had been, Marphissa doubted whether she would have been able to feel it. She stared at her display, where the Syndicate warships and the Indras Star System had vanished along with everything else.

Manticore and all the other ships of the Recovery Flotilla, all the warships and every one of the freighters, were nowhere, safe in the hypernet.

She heard a strange noise and turned to look, seeing that the watch specialists were all applauding. Why? They were looking at her. Why?

Bradamont was hauling Marphissa to her feet, though once she was up Bradamont had to lean on Marphissa as much as Marphissa leaned on her. “I told you that you could do it,” Bradamont said, her voice seeming to come through a few layers of gauze.

Marphissa managed to stand straight and look at the watch specialists. “I could not have done it without you,” she said. “We did this… I am going to rest now. You, too, Kapitan Diaz.”

“Yes, Kommodor. Senior Watch Specialist Lehmann, you are to… call Leytenant Pillai… to assume command of the bridge. Return the crew to… standard ship’s routine.” Diaz staggered upright, grinning foolishly at his success in saying the orders coherently.

They walked off the bridge. Marphissa wondered if the ship’s gravity was having problems. As she walked, the deck seemed to be going up and down under her feet like the deck of a ship on a planet’s sea. She reached her stateroom and realized that Bradamont had dropped off along the way at her own stateroom.

Marphissa entered, sealed the hatch, and locked it out of habit, fell into the bunk, grabbed the crash patch the ship’s doctor had laid out there almost two days earlier, slapped it on, then lay back, wide-open eyes staring at the overhead. Until the crash patch counteracted the drugs in the up patch, she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

She didn’t remember when that happened, didn’t remember dropping into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion. But at some point dreams intruded, dreams of Syndicate warships conducting firing runs, getting past her defenses, blowing apart freighters. And she was asleep on the bridge, passed out, unable to wake up even though she was bending every effort—

Marphissa jolted awake, her eyes open, staring into the darkened stateroom. I’m not on the bridge. She fumbled for her display. We’re in the hypernet.

Tense nerves collapsed with relief, and sleep overcame her again.

He had been awake the entire fight, making sure the freighter executives didn’t do anything they shouldn’t, and had now slept for what felt like almost as long a time. Instincts honed by a life of combat had recovered enough that Rogero came awake instantly at the soft knock on his door, one hand already closing about his sidearm. “Who?”

“Seki Ito.” The door opened, revealing Executive Ito with her open hands held out from her sides. “No danger. I just thought you might like some company.”

“Company?” That could mean a lot of different things.

Ito’s smile in response to his question made it obvious what company meant in this case. “I bet it’s been a while for both of us. No strings. Unless you want that.”

It had been a while, and having Bradamont on the same ship but being unable to even touch her had not made things any easier. Nor was it unheard of for single (or married) personnel far from home to temporarily step outside of partnership commitments.

But as nice as Ito looked at the moment, and as much as he knew he would enjoy her “company,” Rogero did not want to cheat on his commitment to Bradamont. “Thanks, but…” He tried to leave it at that.

Ito gave him an inviting look. “Are you sure? With Pers Garadun gone, I could use another patron.”

Ouch. Maybe this is more about Ito’s chances of getting a mobile forces command at Midway than it is about me. Perhaps I’m not that desirable after all. Fortunately, I’m old enough not to be devastated by that. “I can already recommend you for assignments, but General Drakon has strict rules about seniors sleeping with subordinates.”