Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy Read online

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  Mason's Beta Squadron was fast heading down a tunnel whose end held destruction. But he took solace that it at least gave the rest a chance at victory.

  Okay, trying to take solace.

  He looked up at the Iron Commander's flag station for inspiration. The legendary leader would have thought of something to turn obvious defeat into some sort of victory, even if it involved sacrifice. He had to do the same.

  “The Svals aren't slowing,” the Truxton's tac officer said, “continuing toward intercept in wall formation.”

  “Cocky pirates.”

  Mason took stock of what he had on hand, still amazed at the diversity of systems that joined this endeavor. A javelin from Grehjot. A cruiser and destroyer from Kraytcia. And the most unusual, four cloud frigates from Hexadecimal.

  Those last were as different as the society that birthed them. It was common for frigates to be the ugly ducklings of a fleet. Not as finely faceted as a destroyer, nor crafted with the compact jungle-cat ferocity of a corvette. They were utilitarian designs, often a mishmashed assembly of components made for larger ships. But not these cloud frigates. They were designed from the ground up to be exactly what they were, not a fleet placeholder in a mass range.

  He'd served in a squadron with a cloud cruiser once during a Vallum Corps stint, but they performed no combat maneuvers. He wasn't sure how to best deploy them. Before this he'd never even heard of cloud frigates.

  “Claw formation pinned on us, the two cruisers, and the javelin,” Mason ordered.

  He indulged in a VAD following the Hesperus. It buoyed his heart. That ship had saved their metal at Windermere. Was it that kid again? If so, he couldn't have picked a better time.

  The chatter and visuals from Aventicia Defense were disheartening. The starfighters were messing them up. But he might still prefer that to fighting the Svals. Starfighters could only kill you. Svals could enslave you to their mines and manufacturing.

  “They're firing!” the tac officer said.

  “What? At this range?”

  Rocks and T-beams flew by, the former were dodged by the AIs and the latter scored only a couple ineffective hits. But it sent a message.

  Excepting the two colliers along for salvage opportunities, none of the Sval ships had less than two gray stripes on their hulls. Each marked a successful engagement. One Thunar had a white stripe, denoting five successful engagements. He wondered how they classified that previous alleged battle with the First Cruiser.

  A comm from the 'Decimals came across his station. Their transmissions were distinct in color and presentation. He didn't want to call them strange, but they were a different people. The somewhat isolationist society was suddenly coming out of its shell to become the newest Cohortium member. They were a high-tech people, known for advanced scientum links and cybernetic implants that pushed beyond the generally accepted Mark One movement limitations.

  A rumor was circulating about them. They'd sent out deep space probes like many societies, but one of theirs actually found something. None of humanity's returning probes had discovered any signs of life. It was something he determined to look into—if he didn't end up picking rocks out of a Sval mining bot's treads somewhere in the Strident Cluster.

  The 'Decimal's comm detailed the capabilities of their cloud frigates. It opened up... possibilities.

  “New formation,” he ordered. “Set for sphere, with the cloud frigates out front. Increase speed.”

  “Increase?” the tac officer asked.

  There was a name for ships that traveled faster than they could dodge in battle. Targets.

  “You heard me.”

  The Hexadecimal frigates looked like ships made from a thousand long, polygonal blocks. Thin lines of white light accented their dark surface. They deployed drones, forming their namesake cloud. Each was little more than engine, shield, and T-beam. As the squadrons entered effective firing range, Mason painted the previously wounded Sval Thunar, and its destroyer cover as primary targets. The space between the squadrons lit with crossfire.

  Beta landed decent hits on both targets, but the Sval's penetration was cut in half. The cloud drones blasted incoming rocks and crisscrossed space with their colorless T-beams. The drones also formed an umbrella of electronic countermeasures that filled even the Truxton's targeting displays with distortion. If not for a clean feed from the cloud frigates, it would be a wonder if they hit anything.

  “Minimal incoming.” The tac officer sounded surprised.

  “Keep us moving. This is a pass, not a stand-up engagement.” A ray of hope that he might survive tried to surface, but Mason didn't dare let it blossom. The Svals would get better at penetrating the muddle, or think of something else. “Swing us underneath. Maintain targeting priorities.”

  To maximize firing rate, Mason was keeping Beta squadron off a beat of battle. But the Svals followed one, and each was getting more accurate.

  “Destroyer Rawlands Hawk is getting slammed,” the tac officer reported. “The Sval's aren't even bothering penetrating the ECM, they're just blanketing a sector.”

  Rawlands Hawk was a sister ship from Adams Rush. The two from Kraytcia were quite nimble and holding up well.

  “Switch it with the Kratcia destroyer.”

  The Svals kept on the Adams Rush ship, smelling blood in the water. They targeted the engines but also caught the front thrust ring as forward shielding failed. A sphere of plasma expanded from an explosion that rocked the ship's bow. It started to tumble before regaining some control.

  “We can stay in formation,” its captain commed.

  “No, pull out while you can still maneuver. Use the squadron for cover and head directly away from the Svals.”

  “But we can still fight!”

  “You're one more direct hit from being captured. We'd lose more ships trying to save you. Now pull back as ordered.”

  That was another edge Sval squadrons had. Their opponents pulled ships out early in fear of capture. If Mason held Beta Squadron together for ten more minutes he'd count it miraculous.

  “Their destroyer is taking damage,” the tac officer said, “but the Thunar is holding up.”

  A lot of starmadas wanted to know the secret of how the Blacksea Corporation made their ships so tough. A Sval Thunar and one sold to Frulieste were very different in that department. Even captured ships from other starmadas, a number of which comprised the Sval squadron, became tougher once deployed by them. What was their modification secret?

  “All ships concentrate firepower on that wounded Sval destroyer.”

  The 'Decimals kept changing countermeasures, but the effectiveness was waning. Something had to change the trend of this battle soon.

  Beta poured it on the Sval destroyer. Plasma radiated into space from amidships. The javelin seized the moment, exposed itself to greater fire to land two solid hits with their iconic columns of rocks. Granix plating blasted into space along the destroyer's side. It listed, fell out of formation, and went dark.

  This was the moment to break the trend. The stage was set for Kord's outrageous plan.

  “We can finish that destroyer,” the tac officer said.

  “No! Resume fire on the rest of the Svals, focusing on the wounded Thunar.”

  Mason transmitted a new command through the squadron net. “Execute operation Turnabout.”

  Vector arrows and formation lines danced in the tac VAD as Beta squadron divided. The four cloud frigates took off on a new course. Mason ordered the Kraytcia destroyer to escort them.

  “But without cloud frigate cover, we're taking extra fire,” the tac officer noted.

  “They'll be taking it in a minute, and will need all the help they can get. Main group, swing new course.”

  Mason put them on a heading away from the cloud frigates toward the back of the Sval squadron. Damage was starting to pile up. But in a minute, the intent of the separated cloud frigates became apparent to the Svals, and they hesitated.


  Come on. Come on! Take the bait.

  “The Svals are turning,” the tac officer said. “Their giving us an engine shot?”

  “Yes! Slam the Thunar. Move the javelin out for a kill shot.”

  Kord was right. The Svals would do anything to keep one of their own from being captured. When it became apparent the cloud frigates were moving to do so, they were forced into a bad squadron move.

  “The frigates are taking fire, but they've got a head start,” the tac officer said. “Kraytcia destroyer moving to cover.”

  The cloud drones moved ahead and fired on the broken Sval destroyer, hitting thrust rings and key systems, thwarting its attempts to resist forcible capture. But the drones were also the frigate's covering, and now they were taking a beating.

  “Close the range on that Thunar.”

  The Sval cruiser's shielding seemed to be gone, yet its hull plating resisted fire with amazing strength. Finally it cracked along the thruster housing and shattered. The javelin fired two more salvos of their signature string of closely spaced rocks. The rear of the Thunar detonated from hyper-accelerated impact. The cruiser cracked down its length before exploding into a giant expanding cloud of light and debris. The Svals had finally lost one of their infamous Thunars.

  “They're splitting up. Turning their big boys back on us,” the tac officer said. “The cloud frigates have grappled the Sval destroyer. They're being pursued by the Sval frigates.”

  They might get away with a capture. But at what cost? The Kraytcia destroyer he sent to cover them was critically wounded, ripe for the taking itself. The viewport flutzed with distortion as a hard vibration ran through the Truxton. The light cruiser's schematic was more red than anything else.

  This class really was a bad idea.

  “The bow has had it. We've got to veer off,” the tac officer said.

  “Steer new course.” Mason plotted his remaining ships away from the cloud frigates. “Let's draw them as far away as we can.”

  The ship jolted. The grav weaves began to fluctuate.

  “We've lost a reactor. The T-beams are down.”

  A Thunar with three stripes was bearing down on them, and behind it, a white striped Thunar, probably the Sval squadron flagship. Suddenly the Kraytcia cruiser moved between them and the Thunars. Its shields lit up with incoming fire.

  “Raikaru, you're out of position,” Mason said.

  “Yes Capt. Steede,” came the reply. “Please maintain course.”

  The forte of the Kraytician ships, maneuverability, was totally wasted as they held steady next to the floundering Truxton. Their society was one that esteemed honor above all else. They would cover their squadron leader until the danger passed... or they died.

  The fluctuating tac VAD still showed the 'Decimal frigates moving off with the grappled Sval. One of them had gone dark and was itself being pulled by the grapples. An explosion tore the surface of the Kraytcian destroyer covering them. It began to corkscrew out of control. Pecked to death by the chasing Sval frigates.

  The Kraytcian cruiser covering him rocked with a tremendous hit. It stopped returning fire, but stayed close still. His hope that either group would survive evaporated under T-beam heat. They were so close, too. A captured Sval destroyer and a destroyed Thunar. What a coup it would have been.

  Sorry Kord.

  With only a little more firepower they might have pulled it off.

  Chapter Thirty One

  “Vir Supra Machinalis!” Aristahl said. “They still say that, yes?”

  “Still in common use, sir,” Barrister answered.

  “Commendable. Some traditions are just good form. Well let us get to it.” Aristahl nodded to Capt. Benziger. “Be ready to move out at a second's notice, captain. And do what you can to motivate the other galleon captains similarly.”

  “I'll try. Good luck.”

  VADs encircled Aristahl. The main depiction showed an environment forming, while small VADs displayed code, processing details, and Barrister's health.

  “A veneer if you please, Barrister. Something... classic.”

  The scene resolved into a valley stretching away. It was dusty, with rocky canyon walls bracketing either side. The sun beat down on what appeared like burning desert floor. Aristahl looked behind to see an old Earth styled fort. It was surrounded on four sides by a stockade of timber enclosing a no-mans-land. After that was the fort's tall wood walls. The entire construct was Barrister.

  “I think you will appreciate my choices,” the AI said.

  The fort's gates swung open for two groups of Napoleonic troops marching in formation. An opening materialized in the stockade as they advanced past Aristahl's virtual position. Their animal fiber blue coats baked in the excessive heat. A different type of trooper trotted up from behind. He lacked the crossed white bandoleers of the others. He carried what looked like a cross between a rifle and a small cannon.

  “Ah, a blunderbuss.” Aristahl nodded. “Yes I see. The troops are probes and blunderbuss-men are pulses.”

  “Yes, and static torpedoes you request will be generated as cavalry. My fort will keep up behind you, but you must direct the advance.” Scrub, cactus patches, and uneven, boulder-strewn ground simulated the Jetty's interior computer systems terrain. Nondescript forms moved toward them. “The self replicating nature of this virus is sneaky. If I might be colorful, I will break with historical accuracy and depict them fittingly.”

  Black clad enemies leaped from behind rocks. Only their eyes could be seen as they hurled metal stars from their hands.

  “Ninjas? Really, Barrister. This isn't some long adolescence cineVAD.”

  But Aristahl could not help but smirk. History's iconic assassin warriors had taken on almost mythical attributes after centuries of hyperbolic depictions.

  “This valley is the infection pathway extending all the way to a central processing point. If we wipe it clean as we progress, once the core is destroyed I should be able to fill the entire system with neutralizing code.” A hundred meters ahead, a wall of stones built itself across the valley. “I estimate two of the Jetty's computer security walls, co-opted by the virus, will resist us.”

  From closer than he expected, two ninjas leaped from scrub, hurling their throwing star shuriken into Aristahl's first squad. A trooper turned into white light and evaporated into streaks of vertical lines.

  “Squad one, pull back to the ridge. Squad two circle around along this path to pounce on their advance.” In only a second Aristahl was in general mode, indicating terrain features with markers generated by his gestures and thoughts. When the next two ninjas popped out, the slow firing rifles of the troops sent them up in white streaks. “Squad two, hold there. Covering fire. Squad one, move up to that cactus row.” Aristahl surveyed the terrain leading to the wall. “More blunderbuss-men, Barrister. And keep replacing troops to maintain two full squads.”

  Troops advanced, taking ground at a speedy pace, but the virus never tired, whereas Aristahl's troops seemed to wither under the sun's penetrating exposure. Even the blunderbuss-men kept in reserve looked reduced.

  “Leaving the pier systems and moving into the Jetty proper,” Barrister reported.

  Cave openings appeared in the canyon walls. A man, wearing the armor of an ancient Japanese foot soldier, darted from the nearest. Second squad took shots at him, but they were slow on the draw. The few rounds that did hit bounced off his armor causing only minor damage. He continued close enough to fire an ornate miniature cannon, evaporating into a burst of light himself, but causing the destruction of three of Aristahl's squad.

  “Cannoniers. So they reveal their own pulses. Why so sluggish Barrister? We could have stopped him.”

  Aristahl was already directing the remains of squad one up to the cave. A blunderbuss-man followed, firing into its mouth and disappearing after his single shot was expended.

  “I apologize about the troop degradation over time. Operating in this atmosphere is taxing. Our foe has had time to satur
ate every facet of the Jetty. Even the transmission channels are packed with bogus data to resist us.”

  “Troublesome.”

  “These caves are connected systems revealed as we advance. They must also be cleared.”

  Aristahl executed a feint attack along one side. But it was a ruse to position for the next cave ambush. And as expected, a cannonier bolted out, flanked by two ninjas. But squad two was aimed and ready. The cannonier's armor could only take so much before it was penetrated. He exploded with the full force of his devastating shot and took the two ninjas with him.

  “Excellent, sir. If Kord could see you now.”

  “Yes, my son is peculiar that way.”

  They cleared the remaining Jetty territory up to a rise overlooking the first security wall. A section of its rocks turned to mist and a squad of ninjas ran out. Behind them trotted two horseman in full samurai armor carrying satchels.

  “Static torpedoes,” Barrister noted.

  “Are you up to trading?”

  “Perhaps for a little longer. The corrupted Jetty path is vast, and holding swept territory is taking more and more cycles with each additional meter. The strain is greater than anticipated.”

  “Then we will have to compensate with tricks and guile. Of that I believe my grandson would approve.” Aristahl rethought the terrain and ordered his squads out of sight, positioned to pick off the ninjas. “I will need a horsemen right away. Draw theirs closer.”

  “Might I say, sir, that letting them too close is dangerous in my current state. As you can see, my core is traveling with us, so to speak.”

  Aristahl turned around and indeed the fort was just as close as when they started. But Barrister's firewalls now appeared weather-beaten.

  “We need them on our territory for full analysis. I want a scan of every line of their composition.”

  As the troops and ninjas engaged, Aristahl steered the combat to funnel enemy horsemen down a particular path. One with an intersection where his horseman, dressed in the gold braid of a Napoleonic officer, laid in wait.