And who has been backing them, Kat reminded herself. We need to know that too.
Kitty coughed. “They’re still babbling . . .”
Kat sighed. “Signal all ships,” she said. “Firing pattern beta-nine. Prepare to engage.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Kitty said.
We have them, Kat thought. And they have to know we have them.
She shook her head. There was nothing to be gained by waiting any longer. She’d hoped they’d surrender, but she hadn’t expected it. The Theocrats had no reason to believe that she would keep her word, even though she certainly intended to honor her promises. She would happily allow their crewmen to return to their homeworld in exchange for their datacores and clear proof of who’d supplied them with weapons and tech.
“Fire,” she ordered quietly.
Violence rocked as she emptied her external racks. The other three superdreadnoughts followed suit, their missiles boring through space towards their targets. Kat could have fired a bigger barrage—she was wryly aware that there would be plenty of armchair admirals who’d criticize her for not emptying her missile tubes too—but she wanted to try to take some of the enemy ships intact. If she was lucky, the missiles would cripple the ships, allowing them to be boarded.
“The enemy ships are returning fire,” Kitty reported as red icons flashed to life on the display. “Missile tubes only, Admiral. No external racks.”
And that one superdreadnought hasn’t fired at all, Kat thought. It was quite promising. The enemy CO clearly didn’t have enough missiles left to put up a proper fight. She could force him to expend his remaining stockpile relatively quickly. And then we can batter his fleet into submission at leisure.
“Tighten up the datanet,” she ordered. The enemy missiles didn’t seem to have any improved seeker heads, let alone penetration aides, but there was no point in taking chances. “And stand by to fire a second salvo.”
“Aye, Admiral.” Kitty checked her display. “The freighters are pulling away from the base.”
“Detail a squadron of destroyers to round them up,” Kat ordered. “And remind their commanders that they are authorized to accept surrenders.”
She turned her attention to the display. Her missiles were entering the enemy point defense envelope. One way or the other, the engagement would be over soon . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
UNCHARTED STAR SYSTEM
“Admiral,” the tactical officer said, “the enemy missiles are getting through our defenses!”
“I can see that, idiot,” Admiral Zaskar snarled.
He gritted his teeth. The Royal Navy’s missiles had always been good—far too good. And their missile technology had clearly advanced over the last year. He’d done everything in his power to improve his point defense systems, particularly when he’d started integrating new technology into his ships, but it hadn’t been very successful. Too many enemy missiles were breaking through the screen and flying towards his hulls. His ships were about to take a battering.
They could have fired more missiles, he thought as his ship fired a barrage of her own. It made no sense. They’re holding back.
His blood ran cold. The Royal Navy wanted to capture his ships. Of course they did! They’d even tried to convince him to surrender, despite the political firestorm it would unleash back home. No, they wanted to take his ships reasonably intact. They’d aimed to cripple his ships, not destroy them. And . . .
A series of rumbles ran through the hull. “Direct hits,” someone snapped. Red lights washed across the status display. “Major damage, decks . . .”
Admiral Zaskar tuned him out. Righteous Revenge could still fight, he assumed, but she wouldn’t be able to fight for long. The damage was mounting up rapidly. Captain Geris had already dispatched the damage control teams, according to the stream of updates scrolling up in front of him, but they wouldn’t be able to do enough to save the ship. The fleet was doomed. He doubted he could get even a single ship out of the trap before it was too late.
And they probably wouldn’t accept surrender, he thought. Not now.
He sucked in his breath. They couldn’t win a missile duel. He barely had enough missiles left for one final salvo. No, he needed to close the range and try to punch through the enemy formation. It wasn’t much of a plan, and the odds were against them managing to survive long enough to open a vortex, but at least it would give him a chance to hurt the enemy. Who knew? Maybe they’d kill Kat Falcone after all.
“Captain Geris, ramp up the drives as much as possible,” he ordered. “Take us into energy range.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Admiral Zaskar glanced at Askew. “Sorry you came?”
The foreigner looked unconcerned. “I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.”
“No doubt,” Admiral Zaskar agreed. There was no way Askew could get off the ship, let alone transfer himself to his courier boat. The Royal Navy wouldn’t shoot at lifepods deliberately, but the pods could still be mistaken for a weapon and blown out of space in passing. “Thank you for trying, at least.”
He glanced at Moses, who was still raving into the microphone. Admiral Zaskar had no idea who Moses thought was listening, but it hardly mattered. They were on a death ride now, hoping to survive just long enough to get into energy range and give the enemy as hard a time as possible before inevitable destruction. It was hard to believe that a last-minute miracle would save them. Oddly, the thought calmed him. If there was nothing he could do to avoid death, he might as well accept it.
“Energy range in seven minutes,” the tactical officer said. Another series of impacts ran through the hull. “Captain Geris is devoting all power to weapons, shields, and drives.”
“Good thinking,” Admiral Zaskar
