Ричард Бейкер - Valiant Dust

“Record in ship’s log, effective immediately,” Chatburn said over the circuit. “Peter Chatburn, Commander, Commonwealth Navy, assumes command. All stations report condition.”

Sikander ignored him. Chatburn already knew what he needed to know about the bridge, and he had other things to do. He unbuckled himself from his couch and stood up. “Mr. Reno, take the weapons console,” he ordered. “Attention on the bridge: I am taking tactical control.”

His legs were not as steady as he would have liked, but he made it over to Randall’s station and unbuckled the operations officer’s restraints. Randall’s suit indicators suggested that he lived, but his helmet was noticeably dented and Sikander could see a trickle of blood from his nose beneath the faceplate. He could do nothing for Randall at the moment, but he needed the tactical console; as gently as he could, Sikander lifted him out of the battle couch and lowered him to the deck. Then he strapped himself in, and took stock of the situation displayed on Randall’s station.

Gadira II gleamed half a million kilometers behind them, a golden crescent against the stars; in their weaving and maneuvering, the two cruisers had traced a ragged helical path around each other, climbing up out of orbit. Panther paralleled Hector about fifteen thousand kilometers distant, while Streitaxt drew back, turning her shattered bow section away from Hector ’s guns. Where is the transport? Sikander wondered. The whole point of this affair was to interrupt Dremark’s attempt to land an occupying force. He scrolled and panned his display until he found General von Grolmann lurking out near the moon, Hala. Troop carriers had no business being anywhere near a ship-to-ship engagement, although Hector was far enough off now that Grolmann might be able to return to planetary orbit and resume her ground operations.

“Helm, get our spin under control, and bring us to new course one-nine-zero, down twenty,” Sikander ordered Chief Holtz. “We’re getting too far away from the planet.”

“Aye, sir,” the chief pilot replied. “I’m working on the spin, sir, but changing course is going to take a while. We have a lot of velocity in the wrong direction and not much acceleration ability.”

“Would it be faster to slingshot around the moon?”

“Yes, sir, by quite a bit. That would require … course one-three-five, as soon as I can stabilize our spin.”

“New course one-three-five, as soon as you can get us stabilized,” Sikander said. “Best speed you can put on, Chief.” He looked back to his gunnery officers. “Mr. Girard, damage assessment on Panther ! Mr. Reno, same on Streitaxt ! What do they have left?”

“One moment, sir!” Girard replied.

While Reno and Girard studied the sensor imagery of the Dremish warships, Sikander took a long look at his own damage displays. The Old Worthy had taken a serious beating. They’d lost a third of their K-cannons to direct hits or internal damage that disrupted power or fire-control systems. Casualties numbered fifty or more, the warp ring was inoperative, and they limped along at barely three-quarters their normal power generation. The engines suffered the worst damage, of course … but hull and armor integrity was good, and other than a distinct lack of maneuverability, the ship was still combat effective. Hector still had a little more to give, if he had to ask it of her. However, they could no longer dodge enemy fire worth a damn, with so much damage to the drive plates.

Sikander returned his attention to the damaged K-cannons. The number-one turret flashed red—that was Darvesh Reza’s battle station. Cascading system failure from the bridge hit, or direct hit on the mount? He knew he shouldn’t pay attention to a single indicator, not with the whole ship to worry about, but he quickly selected the local comm circuit anyway and called. “Number-One Mount, Bridge. Are you still there?”

To his surprise, Darvesh answered. “Bridge, this is Mount Number One, Chief Reza speaking.”

“Darvesh? My board shows your mount inoperable. Where’s Chief Valenzuela?”

“The last hit damaged the train mechanism, sir. Chief Valenzuela is directing repairs. We should be able to resume fire momentarily.” Darvesh paused. “Have we stopped maneuvering?”

“We’ve lost a lot of our drive capacity, but we’re still in the fight. Keep me posted on repairs. Bridge, out.” Sikander allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Darvesh had been with him for most of the last ten years; it was good to know that they hadn’t parted ways just yet.

“Report on Streitaxt, ” Sublieutenant Reno announced. “She’s got most of her power and engines, sir, but her torpedo battery is gone, and she lost most of her forward armament. All she has left are aft-mounted K-cannons and lasers.” Sikander allowed himself a grim smile at the results of his handiwork.

“Report on Panther, ” Girard said a moment later. “Power fluctuation and visible damage in the middle of the hull suggests that she might have lost most of her fusion plants. Her main battery is mostly intact, but I don’t think she has the power to use it.”

“She knocked the hell out of us just a minute ago,” Sikander said in a sharp tone.

“The capacitors for each mount must have been charged up before our torpedoes hit her. If they’re discharged now, it’s going to take her a long time to build up a sufficient charge for another salvo.”

“Good point, Mr. Girard. New firing orders: Focus all main-battery fire on Panther ’s bow. Her torpedo battery is the last thing the Dremish have got that can kill us quickly. Wreck it, if you please.”

“Aye, sir! Shifting all main-battery fire to Panther, targeting her torpedo battery.”

The command circuit crackled in Sikander’s ear. “Mr. North, you are maneuvering. What are you doing?” Commander Chatburn asked.

“The battle has carried us a long way from Gadira II, sir. We are correcting our spin and setting course to slingshot around Hala and reestablish control over the planet’s orbital approaches. It’s going to take a while.”

“Belay that command, Mr. North. Set your course to disengage from the Dremish warships by the most expeditious route.”

Sikander shook his head, uncertain whether he’d understood Chatburn’s order. “Sir?”

“We’re crippled, and we are in no position to continue the engagement,” said Chatburn. “There’s nothing more we can accomplish in Gadira; the Dremish brought more ships to this godforsaken system than we did. Given that, we are responsible now for preserving the ship and its crew.”

“XO, Panther and Streitaxt are hurt worse than we are!” Sikander protested. “We’re in position to secure the planetary approaches and put their ground forces under our guns. The one thing we can’t do effectively is run away, given the damage to our drives!”

“Salvo!” called Girard. The ship shook with the power of the heavy K-cannons unleashing a fresh barrage of destruction at the Dremish cruiser. Sikander checked quickly to make sure Streitaxt was keeping her distance; the destroyer came to a parallel course so she could bring her aft batteries into play. Hector was theoretically protected against destroyer-weight battery fire, but given her limited maneuverability, Streitaxt could stand off at a much longer range and fire with impunity. Somebody on her bridge knew what he was doing, which was unfortunate.

“That is Captain, not XO, Mr. North,” said Chatburn. “I am now in command. Cease fire and disengage, is that clear?”