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Chapter 39


“Evolution of any species is impossible without the truly mortal consequences of failure.”


Legacy Mandate by Emperor Yung I


“C-Commander, Carthage is—is deviating course into the gravity well,” Che Ramos declared, leaning over his panel, his face beaded with sweat.

“And that big out-system bastard?”

“S-still holding on the pursuit course.”

Susan Roush drummed her fingers, looking at all the tracks on the tactical display. Dozens of missiles swarmed through the system, racing to cut off Tanager’s transition points before they could gain enough distance from Delta Three’s gravity well. Carthage? Moving to slingshot off the well? Or going in for the kill on Aurora?

If Tanager continued on her current course she would eat a dozen missiles before they could transition, maybe few enough to handle with point defenses…maybe not.

“Weps, where’re those thirty-twos down in the well?”

Pennysmith punched up the tracks, showing the string of 32-gauge missiles quietly floating in an expanding ring on a wide orbit.

Roush studied Aurora’s position, peeling out of orbit and accelerating away from the expanding battlefield, Carthage out of sight behind the planet’s bulk. If Carthage pursued Aurora, slingshotting around the gravity well, then only a tight channel of navigational paths would serve.…

“Weps, move those thirty-twos to…this track—fast!” Roush knew Carthage could not see the missiles yet over the planetary horizon, and the out-system contact stood far too distant to resolve the missiles yet. She had only a brief window to get the missiles relocated into Carthage’s likely path before Carthage cleared the horizon.

Pennysmith sent the relocation signal, waking the floating missiles, sending them rocketing deeper into the well to Roush’s designated new path where they shut down once again, floating, waiting.

“Nav, one-one-zero left azimuth, full emergency acceleration.”

Ruprecht, now filling Julie Yeager’s vacated seat, punched in the course, spinning Tanager, torching back toward the gravity well of Delta Three. Ruprecht looked over at Roush. “You realize our new course will put us right into the path of Carthage…?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, if Carthage is still with us.”

Ruprecht seemed about to say more, but pursed his lips disapprovingly and looked back to his instruments instead. He did not need to say that they ran a terrible risk. If Carthage detected and destroyed or evaded the string of silent missiles in their path, then Tanager would surely feel their teeth.

Carthage is in pursuit of the captain,” Roush said. “Look at that track. Why? Why the merchant ship? Why not us?”

Ruprecht said nothing, but Phillipa Baker broke in, “Cray reports that the sixty-four-gauge load tray will be operational in moments.”

“Good. Weps, you got interdiction tracks figured yet?”

Pennysmith jerked a nod. “For their nearest twenty missiles, yes.”

“Go to work, then,” Roush said. “Might make some lanes for us, and sure as shit gives those arseholes a light show.”

Pennysmith silently prayed that the load tray would endure a dozen launches without crashing. “Right. Launching sixty-fours.”

Moments later, missiles leaped from Tanager’s hardpoints, streaking out to intercept incoming enemy missiles, now closing on their position from multiple vectors. New globes of destructive energy flowered into blazing life as Pennysmith’s barrage began to intercept and detonate, each explosion consuming one or two enemy missiles. Around Tanager, space blossomed, light and power flooding the spectrum. Through it all Tanager ran for all she was worth, just a narrow tangent off Delta Three’s gravity well.

Carthage fell behind the planetary mass, both ships invisible to each other momentarily. Aurora torched out from the well on its tepid merchant thruster, clearly aiming for clear space away from the destructive fireworks, its acceleration indicating fairly advanced hardware for such a tubby craft. For the moment it appeared no missiles locked onto Aurora’s course.

Tanager’s counterintuitive course change, obliquely in-system, threw the enemy’s distant missile tracks into confusion, while Tanager engaged the nearer missiles in overlapping spheres of destruction.

“Get ready on those thirty-twos in the well, Weps,” Roush growled, staring at the tactical screen. “When Carthage comes around, detonate in their damned teeth. We’ll knock her out and slip into Aurora’s wake. Try to keep them off until we can transition.”

Pennysmith affirmed, then jerked with surprise as defensive shields and heat sinks suddenly spiked. “Commander—!”

“What the shit was that?” Roush snapped.

“From—from the out-system contact,” Che Ramos shrilled. “Signature of an energy weapon.”

Roush stared at the holo. That was a hell of a long-range potshot! “Not sure how those pricks resolved a shot at this distance. Nav, give us a little wobble. Weps, keep an eye on Carthage coming around, but start laying some glasscaster rounds in our wake. Give us a little cover at least.”

Both affirmed, and the rhythmic thumping of the glasscaster resonated through Tanager’s hull, but a moment later that distant enemy managed the impossible a second time. Pennysmith gasped and Phillipa Baker called out, “Heat sinks are at red!”

That distant cruiser wielded some very powerful energy weapon, painting across hundreds of thousands of klicks to just touch Tanager. One more such swipe and Tanager’s heat sinks would fail and shields would collapse.

“Weps, you on Carthage? She’s coming around.”

The glasscaster continued thumping away, throwing bulky silica payloads in Tanager’s wake, trying to absorb and disperse the destructive beams from their distant foe.

“On it, Commander.” Pennysmith stared into her scope, trusting her calculations, the accumulation of signal delays, the velocity of Carthage… Part of her mind noted the sudden flare of shields and heat sinks, the distressed voices of her fellow crew members, the abrupt silence of the glasscaster as it slagged down; while the other part of her mind knew only one task. She actuated the string of 32-gauge nuclear missiles surrounding Carthage as Carthage blazed around the curve of Delta Three’s gravity well.

Even as alarms blared and voices cried out, Loki calmly describing a hull breach, Lieutenant Tilly Pennysmith observed the eruption of nuclear fire envelope Carthage. Her ears popped as cabin pressure plummeted, her nose suddenly streaming blood. Through hazed eyes, she stared at the scope, fixated. Carthage emerged from the inferno, tumbling out of control, her hull misshapen and venting.…

Just like Tanager, Pennysmith thought, as frantic hands pulled at her and darkness fell.


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