Captain Keyes took his place in his command chair—“the hot seat,” as it was more colloquially known—and reviewed the data. He nodded with satisfaction. “Looks like the Admiral has something up hissleeve.” He turned to Lieutenant Hall. “Engine status, Lieutenant?”
“Engines hot at fifty percent,” she reported. She straightened to her full height, nearly six feet, andlooked Captain Keyes in the eye with something edging near defensiveness. “Sir, the engines took a realbeating in our last engagement. The repairs we’ve made are . . . well, the best we could do without acomplete refit.”
“Understood, Lieutenant,” Keyes replied calmly. In truth, Keyes was concerned about the engines, too—but it would do no good to make Hall more uneasy than necessary. The last thing he needed now was toundermine her confidence.
“Gunnery officer?” Captain Keyes turned to Lieutenant Hikowa. The petite woman bore moreresemblance to a porcelain doll than to a combat officer, but Keyes knew her delicate appearance wasonly skin deep. She had ice water for blood and nerves of steel.
“MAC guns charging,” Lieutenant Hikowa reported. “Sixty-five percent and climbing at two percent perminute.”
Everything on theIroquois had slowed down to a crawl. Engine, weapons—even the unwieldyCradlekept pace with them.
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Captain Keyes sat up straighter. There was no time to spend on self-recriminations. He would have to dothe best he could with what he had. There simply was no other alternative.
The lift doors popped open and a young man stepped on deck. He was tall and thin. His dark hair—longer than regulations permitted—had been slicked back. He was disarmingly handsome; Keyesnoticed the female bridge crew pause to look the newcomer over before returning to their tasks. “EnsignLovell reporting for duty, Captain.” He snapped a sharp salute.
“Welcome aboard, Ensign Lovell.” Captain Keyes returned his salute, surprised that the unkempt officercould demonstrate such crisp adherence to military protocol. “Man the navigation console, please.”
The bridge officers scrutinized the Ensign. It was highly unusual for such a low-ranking officer to pilot acapital ship. “Sir?” Lovell wrinkled his forehead, confused. “Has there been some mistake, sir?”
“Youare Ensign Michael Lovell? Recently posted on theArchimedes Remote Sensor Outpost?”
“Yes, sir. They pulled me off that duty so quick that I—”
“Then man your station, Ensign.”
“Yes, sir!”
Ensign Lovell sat at the navigation console, took a few seconds to acquaint himself with the controls—then reconfigured them more to his liking.
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Keyes’ mouth. He knew that Lovell had more combat experiencethan any Lieutenant on the bridge, and was pleased that the Ensign adapted so quickly to unfamiliarsurroundings.
“Show me the fleet’s position and the relative location of the enemy, Ensign,” Keyes ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Lovell replied. His hands danced across the controls. A moment later, a system map snappedinto place on the main screen. Dozens of small triangular tactical markers showed Admiral Stanforth’sfleet massing between Sigma Octanus IV and its moon. It was a sound opening position. Fighting inorbit around Sigma Octanus IV would have trapped them in the gravity well—like fighting with yourback to a wall.
Keyes studied the display—and frowned. The Admiral had moved the fleet into a tightly packed gridformation. When the Covenant fired their plasma weapons at them, there would be no maneuvering
room.
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The Covenant was moving in-system quickly. Captain Keyes counted twenty radar signatures. He didn’tlike the odds.
“Receiving orders,” Lieutenant Dominique said. “Admiral Stanforth wants theIroquois at this locationASAP.”
On the map, a blue triangle pulsed on the corner of the grid formation.
“Ensign Lovell, get us there at best speed.”
“Aye, sir,” he replied.
Captain Keyes fought down a wave of embarrassment; theCradle stardock started to pull ahead oftheIroquois . It took up a position directly over the Admiral’s phalanx formation. The refit stationrotated, presenting its edge to the incoming Covenant fleet to show them the smallest target area.
“Rotating and reversing burn,” Ensign Lovell said. TheIroquois spun about and slowed. “Thrusters tostation keeping. We’re locked in position, sir.”
“Very good, Ensign. Lieutenant Hikowa, divert as much power as you need to get those MAC gunscharged.”
“Aye, sir,” Hikowa replied. “Capacitors charging at maximum rate.”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Dominique said. “We’re receiving an encrypted firing solution and countdowntimers from theLeviathan ’s AI.”
“Transfer that vector to Lieutenant Hikowa and show me on screen.”
A line appeared on the tactical map, connecting theIroquois to one of the incoming Covenant frigates.The firing timer appeared in the corner: twenty-three seconds.
“Now show me the entire fleet’s firing solutions, Lieutenant Dominique.”
A web of trajectories crossed the map with tiny countdown times next to each. Admiral Stanforth hadthe fleet exchanging fire with the Covenant like a line of Redcoats and colonial militia in theRevolutionary War—tactics that could best be described as bloody . . . or suicidal.
What the hell was the Admiral thinking? Keyes studied the displays, trying to divine a method to hiscommanding officer’s madness . . . then he understood. Risky, but—if it worked—brilliant.
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The fleet’s firing countdowns were roughly timed so that the shots would be staggered into two, maybethree, massive salvos. The first salvo would—hopefully—knock out the Covenant ships’ shields. Thefinal salvo was to be the knockout punch.
But it could only work once. After that, the UNSC fleet would be destroyed when the remainingCovenant ships returned fire. TheIroquois and the other ships were stationary targets. He appreciatedthat the Admiral couldn’t get too far from Sigma Octanus IV, but with zero momentum—and no room tomaneuver—there’d be no way to avoid those plasma bolts.
“Sound decompression alarms in all nonessential sections, Lieutenant Hall, and then empty them.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and bit her lower lip.
“Guns: status on the MACs?” Keyes’ eyes were glued to the firing countdown. Twenty seconds . . .fifteen . . . ten . . .
“Sir, MAC weapon systems are hot!” Hikowa announced. “Removing safeties now.”
The Covenant ships started to rotate slowly in space—although their momentum continued to carry themon their inbound trajectory toward the UNSC phalanx. Motes of red light collected along the alien ships’lateral lines.
Five seconds.
“Transferring firing control to the computer,” Lieutenant Hikowa said. She punched a series of firingcodes into the computer, then locked down the controls. TheIroquois recoiled and spat twin bolts ofthunder toward the enemy.
The starboard view screen showed UNSC destroyers and frigates launching their opening salvo.
The Covenant fleet fired as well; angry red lances of energy raced though space towards them.
“Time until that plasma impacts?” Captain Keyes asked Ensign Lovell.
“Twenty-two seconds, sir.”
The vacuum between the two opposing forces filled with a hundred lines of fire and smoldering metalthat seemed to tear through the fabric of space.
Their trajectories closed on one another, then crossed, and the bolts of fire grew larger on the main
screen.
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Lieutenant Dominique said, “Receiving a second set of firing solutions and times. Admiral Stanforth onthe priority channel, sir.”
“Put him on, holotank two,” Keyes ordered.
Near the main view screen, a small holographic tank—normally reserved for the ship’s AI—winked intooperation. Admiral Stanforth’s ghostly image appeared. “All ships: hold your positions. Divert allengine power to recharge your guns. We’ve got something special cooked up.” His eyes narrowed. “Donot—I repeat, do not—underany circumstance break position or fire before you are ordered to do so.Stanforth out.”
The holographic projection of the Admiral snapped out of existence.
“Orders, sir?” Ensign Lovell turned in his seat.
“You heard the Admiral, Ensign. Thrusters to station keeping. Lieutenant Hikowa: get those gunsrecharged on the double.”
“Aye, sir.”
Keyes nodded as Hikowa turned back to her task. “Three seconds until first salvo impact,” sheannounced.
Keyes turned back to the tac display, concentrating on the MAC rounds that crawled across the screen.The fleet’s MAC rounds hammered into the Covenant lines. Shields flickered silver-blue and overloadedas the super-dense projectiles rammed into the formation; several ships were spun out of position by theimpact.
“Guns?” he called out. “Enemy status?”
“Multiple hits on Covenant fleet, sir,” Hikowa replied. “Salvo two impact . . . now.”
A handful of the shots were clean misses. Keyes winced; each one of the off-trajectory MAC roundsmeant one more enemy ship would survive to return fire.
The vast majority, however, slammed into the unshielded alien vessels. The lead Covenant destroyertook a direct hit from a heavy round, which sent the alien ship into a lurching port spin.
Keyes saw the destroyer’s engines flare as her pilot struggled to regain control—just as a second MACround struck on the ship’s opposite side. For an instant, the Covenant vessel shuddered, held position,then flexed as the hull stresses became too great. The destroyer disintegrated and scattered debris in a
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wide arc.
A second Covenant ship—a frigate—shuddered under the impact of multiple MAC rounds. It listed tostarboard and rammed the next frigate in the enemy formation. Sparks and small explosions flared fromthe ships as a gray-white plume of vented atmosphere exploded into space. The ships’ running lightsflickered, then dimmed as the pair of dead spacecraft—locked in a deadly embrace—tumbled into theheart of the Covenant line.
A moment later, the wrecked ships hit a third Covenant frigate, and they exploded, sending tendrils ofplasma through space. A dozen of their ships vented atmosphere and fires flickered within their hulls.
The fore view screen, however, was now filled with incoming weapons fire.
“Fleet commander on priority channel,” Dominique announced. “Audio only.”
“Patch it through, Lieutenant,” Keyes ordered.
A hiss of static crackled through the communications-system speakers. A moment later, AdmiralStanforth’s voice calmly broke through the noise. “Lead to all ships: hold your positions,” the Admiralsaid. “Make ready to fire. Transfer timers to your computers . . . and hang on to your hats.”
A shadow crossed the overhead camera. On the view screen, Captain Keyes watched as theCradle repairstation, the plate nearly a kilometer on edge, rotated and started to slide in front of their phalanxformation.
“Christ,” Ensign Lovell whispered, “they’re going to take the hits for us.”
“Dominique, hit the scopes. Are there any lifepods outbound fromCradle ?” Keyes asked. He alreadyknew the answer.
“Sir,” Dominique answered, his deep voice thick with worry. “No escape craft have left theCradle .”
All eyes on theIroquois ’ bridge were riveted to the screen. Keyes’ hands clenched with anger andhelplessness. There was nothing to do but watch.
The front view screen went black as the station passed in front of them. Pinpoints of red and orangeappeared along the back surface, metal vapor venting in plumes.Cradle lurched closer to the fleet, theimpact of the plasma torpedoes pushing it back. The station continued to move downward, spreading outthe damage. Holes appeared in the surface; the internal lattice of steel girders was exposed and, secondslater, glowed white-hot—then the view screen was clear again.
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“Ventral cameras,” Captain Keyes said. “Now!”
The view changed as Dominique switched to theIroquois ’ belly cameras.Cradle station reappeared. Shespun and her entire forward surface was aglow . . . heat spread to the edges, the center liquefied andpulled away.
“MAC guns ready to fire in three seconds,” Lieutenant Hikowa announced, her voice cold and angry.“Targeting lock acquired.”
Keyes gripped the arms of the command chair. “Cradle’s crew bought this shot for us, Lieutenant,”Captain Keyes growled. “Make it count.”
TheIroquois shuddered as the MAC gun fired. On the status display, Keyes watched as the rest of theUNSC fleet fired simultaneously. A twenty-one-gun salute three times over for those on board thestation who had given their lives.
“All ships: break and attack!” Admiral Stanforth bellowed. “Pick your targets and fire at will. Take asmany of these bastards out as you can! Stanforth out.”
They had to move before the Covenant plasma weapons recharged.
“Give me fifty percent on our engines,” Captain Keyes ordered, “and come about to course two eightzero.”
“Aye,” Ensign Lovell and Lieutenant Hall replied in unison.
“Lieutenant Hikowa, release safeties on the Archer missile system.”
“Safeties disengaged, sir.”
TheIroquois moved away at a near-right angle from the phalanx formation. The other UNSC shipsscattered at all vectors. One UNSC destroyer, theLancelot , accelerated straight toward the Covenant line.
As the UNSC ships scattered, the MAC salvo reached the Covenant ships. The Admiral’s firingsolutions had targeted the remainder of the Covenant battlegroup’s smaller ships. Their shields sparkled,rippled, and then flickered out of existence. Their frigates shattered under the impact of the firepower.Holes ripped through their hulls. Wrecked spacecraft drifted lazily through the battle area.
The surprise second salvo had cost the Covenant dearly—a dozen enemy ships were out of the fight.
That left eight Covenant vessels—destroyers and cruisers.
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Pulse lasers and Archer missiles fired, and every ship onscreen accelerated towards one another. BothCovenant and UNSC ships released their single-ship fighters.
The tac computer was having trouble tracking everything—Keyes cursed to himself over the lack of aship AI—as the missile fire and plasma discharges strobed in the blackness. Single ships—the humans’Longsword fighters and the flat, vaguely piscine Covenant fighters—dove, and fired, and impacted intowarships. Archer missiles left trails of exhaust. Blue pulse lasers scattered inside the clouds of ventedpropellant and atmosphere, and cast a ghostly blue glow over the scene.
