Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

“The external sensor network is largely intact,” Sultana said. She sounded icily calm and in control, shaming him. RockRats were supposed to know, in their blood, how dangerous space could be and how only quick action—and no panic—could save lives. “We have incoming.”

Roman stared down at the tactical console. He should have taken the command chair in the center of the compartment, but there was no replacement for the tactical position, at least until they managed to find another lieutenant. Most of the tactical section would have been killed in the attack. There were enemy starships approaching Enterprise ; four battlecruisers and a host of smaller craft. The sensors finally identified them as Marine Landing Craft. The rebels intended to board Enterprise !

Over my dead body , Roman thought coldly. He’d admired and respected the captain and the XO. It would have been a betrayal of their memory to tamely surrender the carrier to Admiral Justinian and the rebels. Besides, they were coming in fat and happy, believing that Enterprise was completely crippled. And that, part of his mind insisted, offered an opportunity to strike back.

The damage report started to scroll up in front of him as the internal datanet came back online. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared, even though it was still pretty bad. The main bridge and flag bridge—and surrounding compartments—were completely destroyed. The internal emergency system had sealed off the affected compartments before the atmosphere had been vented into space. One of the antimatter beams had gone through the port flight decks and effectively destroyed them, leaving the starfighter pilots stranded and unable to escape; another had destroyed one of the drive units. The remaining drive units—and shield generators—were intact, as were most of the weapons. Enterprise , given time, would be able to escape, yet it was doubtful that the rebels would give her time. It didn’t take years of experience to know that the damaged carrier was going to maneuver like a wallowing pig.

He ran through the vectors in his mind and smiled. Admiral Justinian hadn’t brought his superdreadnaughts close to Enterprise , either out of suspicion or because he wanted to point them at Admiral Drake instead. The battlecruisers would be in short range—almost point-black range—within minutes, but the Marine Landing Craft would dock with Enterprise before the battlecruisers were close enough to have no hope of evading his fire.

“Deploy the Marines,” he ordered. “Put them in position to repel boarders.”

He spared a single thought for Elf, and then turned back to his console. His plan was insane—he’d have been reprimanded sharply for proposing it at the Academy—but if the enemy just knew that Enterprise was crippled, they might not be too careful. On the other hand, if he opened fire too soon, the battlecruisers would stand off and pound Enterprise into a drifting hulk.

The enemy starfighters were engaging the remains of Enterprise’s CSP, clearing the fighter jocks away before the Marines moved in. Some of the pilots ignored the enemy fighters and targeted the Marine craft, thinning the force before they had a chance to dock with the Enterprise . Roman winced as he saw the starfighters wink out, one by one, knowing that each icon represented a living human being. How many of them had he known personally before the fleet had entered the Jefferson System?

Somehow, he pushed the thought aside. There would be time to mourn the dead later.

“Keep the active sensors offline,” he ordered as the enemy battlecruisers moved closer. A single active scan could tell him everything he wanted to know—at the cost of revealing Enterprise’s true condition. He had no doubts about how they would react if they realized the truth. “Track the battlecruisers with passive sensors only, but keep uploading the targeting data to the missile tubes.”

Enterprise’s designers had sought to create a starship that was a cross between a carrier and a dreadnaught. Roman had been told by Commander Duggan that, like other ships that attempted to combine two separate roles, Enterprise managed to be mistress of neither. She couldn’t stand up to a superdreadnaught—or even a battleship—nor could she launch and recover her fighters as rapidly as a fleet carrier.

On the other hand, at point blank range the battlecruisers wouldn’t know what was coming their way until it was far too late.

“The enemy Marines are moving in to dock now,” Sultana said dispassionately.

Roman turned to look at the internal display. The Marines— his Marines—had deployed themselves to repel boarders. The enemy was being predicable, heading for the holes they’d made in the hull. Roman wondered, suddenly, if Elf was thinking of him, perhaps cursing him for placing her in a death trap.

“Roman…ah, sir …” Sultana said.

“Spit it out,” Roman ordered sharply.

“Two minutes until the battlecruisers are within point-blank range,” Sultana said. “Can I suggest that we open fire on the remaining landing craft at the same time?”

“Make it so,” Roman said. The thought was a good one, even though the boarders might try to disable the ship’s weaponry as they advanced. “Prepare to fire.”

Where would they go, once they boarded the ship? Justinian must know they’d destroyed the bridge and the secondary facilities, so…engineering? They hadn’t landed anywhere near the engineering compartments, but perhaps they intended to secure the interior of the ship first. Boarding actions were rare, so Roman couldn’t be sure; as it was, he couldn’t recall a single example of a successful boarding action against a carrier or a superdreadnaught.

And this one’s not going to be the first…not if I can help it, he thought.

The enemy battlecruisers were much closer now, their targeting sensors sweeping Enterprise’s hull. Roman hoped that didn’t mean they had missiles ready to fire. A single antimatter warhead would vaporize the entire carrier. He braced himself as the final seconds ticked down, keying the tactical console and uploading precise firing instructions. All four battlecruisers had to be targeted and destroyed in the opening barrage.

“I have a message from the damage control parties in the starboard flight decks,” Sultana said. “They report that we can launch starfighters once they reroute power to the launch catapults. Many of the ready craft were destroyed when the ship was hit, but the remainder were held in their cradles and check out as being ready to fly.”

“Tell them to get ready to launch,” Roman ordered. He caught himself a moment later. “No, belay that; no power emissions until we open fire. We don’t want to scare them off.”

He looked back at the tactical console. The four enemy battlecruisers were just entering point-blank range. In terms of space travel, they were close enough to touch.

“Fire,” he ordered, keying the switch.

Enterprise shuddered as missiles spat from her tubes, already hitting terminal engagement speeds. The enemy battlecruisers were hit directly and three of them exploded as antimatter warheads knocked down their shields and hit their hulls. The fourth staggered out of position, only to die after Roman launched a second spread of missiles before the enemy ship could recover and start firing back.

“Get the drives and shields up,” he ordered. “Reroute power and launch fighters as soon as possible.”

It crossed his mind that he’d just killed—directly—thousands of people. A standard battlecruiser had a crew of two thousand. Assuming the battlecruisers had been fully-manned, he’d just killed eight thousand people—and however many Marines had still been in their landing craft when Enterprise’s point defense blew them out of space. RockRats knew death, understood it in all its forms, and yet…he swallowed hard, desperately trying not to be sick.