Valiant

Geary had to fight off depression as he thought of his own fleet’s dead.

“Sir, Warrior can’t be saved,” Desjani stated somberly.

He couldn’t argue that even though he wanted to debate it. Warrior had fought so well, her crew going beyond the call of duty to protect the auxiliaries. Warrior deserved to survive, to return proudly to Alliance space. But the already-damaged battleship had been riddled, its propulsion systems destroyed, every weapon knocked out, and life support left spotty throughout the hull. Looking at the readouts and images of Warrior, Geary was forcefully reminded of how the wreck of Audacious had looked. “Commander Suram,” he ordered, “you and your crew have performed in a manner that brings all possible honor to your ancestors, but Warrior is now beyond repair. Abandon ship.”

Long before a reply could have come, the communications watch called out. “We’re receiving a voice-only emergency circuit call from Warrior. It’s very weak, but we’ve enhanced it.”

Geary punched accept and listened to the message, the voice of Commander Suram oddly distorted by the electronic enhancements required to make the message understandable. “All systems are out except for emergency controls on the power core. We’re attempting a safe core shutdown. Warrior cannot continue the fight. Many escape pods damaged or destroyed in the last engagement. Those members of the crew who can be held in the surviving pods are abandoning ship. To the honor of our ancestors.”

“Continue the fight?” Geary wondered.

“With all systems out they’re blind,” Desjani answered. “They can see some explosions and signs of battle with the naked eye and the minor enhancement gear on their survival suits, but have no idea that’s just us mopping up the Syndics. We need to get some ships there to pull off the rest of Warrior ’s crew,” she added quickly, “I’d recommend-”

“Sir,” another watch-stander called in an alarmed voice. “We’re picking up indications that Warrior’s power core is fluctuating. The emergency control systems must have been damaged, too, and are failing.”

“How long until it blows?” Desjani snapped.

“Impossible to predict, Captain. It could hold until they manage a shutdown, or it could have already blown, and we haven’t seen the light from it.”

Desjani gave Geary a somber look. He nodded, knowing this was his call. Any ship trying to close on Warrior to rescue her trapped crew members would risk being caught in a core explosion. “Who were you going to recommend for crew recovery?” he asked Desjani.

“Ships from the Twentieth Destroyer Squadron,” she responded immediately. “They’re still close together and well positioned, but Warrior drifted away from the battle after she got knocked out, or rather the battle kept going and Warrior stayed about where she was. Our destroyers will require close to half an hour to get there and match speed to the wreck.”

“Okay.” Geary tapped his controls, thinking through his words. “Twentieth Destroyer Squadron, members of Warrior ’s crew are trapped on board. Warrior’s power core is fluctuating uncontrollably and may blow at any time. Request to know which destroyers in your squadron will volunteer to close Warrior and attempt to take off her remaining crew.”

The reply took only a little while, though it seemed agonizingly long. “Sir, this is Lieutenant Commander Pastak on Gavelock. Arabas, Balta, Dao, Gavelock, Kururi, Sabar, and Wairbi volunteer to assist Warrior’s crew. All ships proceeding to intercept Warrior at maximum acceleration.”

Geary checked his display. Every surviving destroyer in the squadron. “Don’t let me forget this,” he murmured to Desjani.

“I won’t,” she replied. “Did you expect anything else?”

“I don’t know. I do know I am proud as hell to command this fleet.”

“Estimated time for destroyers to reach Warrior is twenty-three minutes,” the maneuvering watch announced.

“Try to get a message through to Warrior’s survivors that the destroyers are on the way.”

“Yes, sir. We are now in communication with the escape pods launched from Warrior and will try to relay through them.”

Geary nodded almost absently, his mind’s eye too easily imagining the scene on Warrior right now, the few sailors who could work on the power core trying to keep it under control, the rest waiting in the ruin of their ship for rescue or death. “Is Commander Suram on one of the escape pods?” he asked, already guessing the answer.

“No, sir. The highest-ranking officer on one of the pods is a Lieutenant Rana, who is badly wounded.”

He felt curiously detached as he saw the symbols of the escape pods racing away from Warrior, his mind numb after all of the other losses this day. Escape pods were designed to boost rapidly away from their ship on the assumption that distance would be critical, and in this case that was certainly true. “How much longer until the escape pods are outside the estimated danger zone for Warrior’s power-core blast radius? ”

“Five minutes, sir. That’s the estimate based on the known state of Warrior’s power core and the readings we’re picking up on it.”

Seven minutes later, with the destroyers of the Twentieth Squadron still sixteen minutes away, Geary watched the image of Warrior blossom into an irregular sphere of light and debris. He confirmed that the escape pods were far enough outside the blast area to be able to ride out the shock wave, then closed his eyes, took a long, slow breath, and called Gavelock. “Lieutenant Commander Pastak, please alter your mission to recovery of the escape pods from Warrior. They were close enough to the core overload that many probably received some damage. Thank you, thank all of your ships, for your efforts.”

Pastak’s somber acknowledgment came a few minutes later, then Geary leaned back and closed his eyes again. “Sir?” Desjani whispered. He shook his head, denying any conversation. After a moment, her hand closed over his wrist and squeezed tightly for a second in wordless comfort before being withdrawn. She knew how he felt, and somehow that made it a little easier to bear.

FIVE

GEARY sighed as the tensions of worrying about the upcoming battle were replaced by the pains of dealing with the aftermath of that engagement. He felt incredibly weary, as though he had been on the bridge of Dauntless for most of a week instead of most of a day.

“The Syndic guard force is still about thirty light-minutes from the hypernet gate,” Desjani reported, her own voice tired. “If they keep up their speed, they’ll reach it in about four and a half hours.”

“Fine.” Geary rubbed his eyes, then looked back at his display. That Syndic guard force was now almost two light-hours away from the Alliance fleet. If it had been a lot, lot closer, he might have had to worry about a suicide charge against Dauntless or the auxiliaries, but at this distance the Syndics would take almost a day to get here after they started such a charge. “I guess we can decide what to do about them later.”

There didn’t seem to be much to worry about for the moment. The guard force was clearly going to stick close to the hypernet gate, just as it had last time the Alliance fleet was here, and that gate lay about two and a half light-hours off to port of the Alliance fleet. The habitable world that Lakota boasted was orbiting on the opposite side of its star from the Alliance fleet, almost two and a quarter light-hours to starboard. The Syndic military assets there wouldn’t be any threat unless the Alliance fleet came close to that world, and Geary had no intention