Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1) (10 page)

“Ma’am, we may have an idea but there’s a catch.”

“Cut to the chase, Commander!”

The man’s voice at the other end hesitated. “That hull’s too strong for our beam weapons and the projectiles are bouncing off its shield.”

“Mr. Hawkins, tell me something I do not know.”

The man yelled something to a technician over the comms about the core temperature then cleared his throat to continue. “Well, the engines are the key. They’re a structural weakness. They’re not behind any hull plating and we can take our chances there with a concentrated attack. That shield has to come down sooner or later, if it’s like anything resembling our understanding of physics.”

“And the catch?” Rebecca asked.

“We’ll have to disband our net here and reposition behind that ugly thing for a proper firing solution.”

Hawkins was right. Repositioning would be a serious blow—they’d have to lower their guard against the main enemy line to be able to move.

Francis had been listening. “We’ll take a serious blow, Rebecca.”

“Any estimation?”

Francis paused to think, looking at the green dots before them, surrounded by reds all over the map. “Ten. Maybe twelve.”

Too many,
Rebecca sighed and felt herself sinking into despair.
I cannot yield.
“Evacuate the most damaged dreadnoughts, except their core personnel.”

Francis raised his brows questioningly.

“We will use them as a curtain to move the rest into position,” Rebecca explained. “The others will fire on the spot Hawkins marked with everything they got.”

“What if that doesn’t work?”

“I believe we already discussed that part, Francis.”

***

It took them a costly twenty minutes to evacuate all non-essential personnel and recover the shuttles. They had to abandon seven of the battered dreadnoughts, using them as shields against the main battery fire from the enemy flagship. The process was painstakingly slow and Rebecca felt her heart sinking deeper with each casualty report.
Keep it together, girl.

“Fire cannons five through eleven!” she barked to the tactical station, her first officer echoing the order. “Signal
Lyon, Detroit
and
Hamburg
to form a barrage. And fire every last thing they have!”

The ship shook with another blow, not as fierce as the others, but Rebecca hadn’t become an admiral because of her naiveté. Each hit meant a hull breach somewhere on the eight-thousand-meter super-dreadnought.
Or worse, someone dead.

Smaller craft were engaged in in skirmishes here and there, leaving the capital ships alone in their fight. Defense drones worked as intelligent mines, tailing enemy craft and firing until they destroyed their target or were destroyed. Enemy forces still outnumbered Rebecca’s fleet, The First Banner of Consortium by a large margin, but so far they successfully held them at bay.
No thanks to that web you formed, Rebecca
.

Hawkins’ suggestion might be the key to turn the tide, or at least, not get wiped out for good.
She admitted to herself the lieutenant commander’s idea was brilliant. As an unforeseen side effect in their favor—albeit a small one—the enemy fleet’s many capital ships had to match their maneuvers to Rebecca’s fleet to get a clear shot, or they risked friendly fire.

At first, the opposing force hadn’t seemed to care about hitting its own, continuing the scattered turret fire without any need for precision. However, after losing over twenty craft to their own turrets just to take down three, they appeared to reconsider and Rebecca gladly accepted the opening created.

“Admiral, the
Honshu
is destroyed.”

“Survivors?”
There
,
another city falls.

“None, ma’am. They had a reactor overload.”

Rebecca had seen it happen all too frequently to commanding officers—barring emotion, ignoring the death toll. The hard part always came later, as they learned to live with the horror of knowing their actions had sent thousands to their deaths. She wondered if she would have a chance to feel regret.

“Helm, what is our position?” She didn’t have the time to dwell in misery. That would come later.

“Two minutes, twenty-five seconds and counting,” Lieutenant Wallace, the navigation officer replied from his station. “We will have an opening—”

It was as if lightning struck the bridge, followed by a thunderous sound and a wild explosion that scattered them all. Rebecca found herself face-down on a terminal, seeing everything in black and white accompanied by a terrible ringing in her ears. She tried to stand up but her legs gave out, dropping her near a young female crewmember with a bloodied face, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. She sent a silent prayer for the woman’s soul and reached for her dog tag—
Lieutenant Jr. Grade Jessica Scott-Adams.

“Rest in peace, girl.” Rebecca pushed the image of the girl aside and tried to stand up again. This time, she succeeded. She gestured toward the navigation controls. “Somebody put that fire out! Commander, report!”

“Ma’am, Commander Leclair’s dead,” Lieutenant Jong said with a coarse voice, his eyes watered by the smoke.

Rebecca stared at Jong, her lips twitching.
No emotion, only survival.
Officer Jong stood before her in patience, in respect.
Not now, girl.
After a moment’s pause Rebecca gestured Jong to continue his duties. The tactical officer’s battle-worn face was covered in soot and blood, his left eye bloodied, but he saluted like a young cadet on his first day and rushed back to his duties.

You have to hold on for them.
“Mr. Matthews!” Rebecca called out to the lieutenant commander attending to an injured airman near the main screen. The injured boy’s arms had been shredded to pieces—no matter how well Matthews stopped the bleeding, the airman would be dead from trauma long before they reached the med bay.

“Yes, Admiral!” Matthews replied, still fumbling with the tourniquet he applied.

“You are field-promoted to First Officer,” Rebecca announced. “Leave whatever you are doing to someone else, I need you here at Tactical.”

The man raised his head and looked baffled.

“Mr. Matthews, that was an order!”

Matthews looked at the blood dripping from his hands and nodded, still looking confused. He signaled an ensign to take over and hurried toward Rebecca, wiping the blood on his uniform. The Admiral’s look was enough to pull him out of his puzzlement.

Matthews gave an official salute. “Reporting as ordered, ma’am!”

“At ease, Mr. Matthews,” Rebecca peered at the current situation in the flickering holographic display, showing mostly static than images. “Someone, fix this map!” she growled over her shoulder, and turned back to Matthews. “Commander, I want a damage report yesterday!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Matthews rushed toward the damage control station.

“Mr. Jong, signal everyone to fire the moment they have a bead on the target.”

The lieutenant gave a curt nod.

Matthews rushed back to Rebecca, “Admiral Conway, we lost life support to decks five and six. Damage assessment teams are on site. No critical damage besides the hull breach. Multiple casualties.”

“Go to tactical and start your attack run, Commander.”

The
Deviator
took her position behind the enemy ship, outmaneuvering the ugly beast with superior speed. The other ships were already in position, firing whatever they had left at the engines of the spider-shaped monstrosity. Rebecca’s flagship volleyed with all the right-side mortars, illuminating the dark of space with fireworks. The enemy was now forced to retreat, taking a serious blow to their back. But the mother ship returned fire at any target she could mark both with her turrets and the primary beam weapon, delivering the real, devastating blow.

“Ma’am, we lost the
California
.”

Rebecca grunted, watching the dreadnought turn into a blazing ball of fire on the main screen. “Mr. Matthews, launch nukes one and four to the mother ship.”

“But ma’am,” the inexperienced commander argued, “Firing a nuke into the engine core will cause a reaction. We will get caught in the shockwave!”

“Commander, either do as you are ordered or find me someone who can.”

Matthews saluted and ran back to the tactical console to input the command. “It is ready, Admiral,” he said over the console, his voice shaking.

Rebecca raised her head to address the ship directly. “Computer, authorize launch of nukes, bay one and four.”

“Nuclear launch authorization code required.”

“Authorization Conway, Tango, Orion, Five, Seven, One, Orion—” she hesitated on the final code “—Francis.”

“Nuclear launch authorized. Warheads prepped in. Nuclear launch detected,” the computer confirmed Rebecca’s order in its uninterested, dull voice.

“Everyone, brace for impact!” Matthews yelled, holding on to a console.

Rebecca watched the nukes disappear toward the huge, black spider, leaving small trails of smoke on the display. At first, nothing happened and she felt the hairs on her neck raise, but then a blinding sun dawned into the bridge. An immense ring of fire spread in every direction, surrounding the orange ball of melting metal that had been the spider ship. No matter how much collateral damage, it was a sight for sore eyes.

The ring reached the
Deviator
in a few seconds, jolting the ship as it touched the plating. And with that, what little order the bridge had left after the alien attack was gone.

Rebecca felt the weight of a fallen console on her body and smoke burning her lungs. She wanted to cough it all out but it required effort to breathe, let alone cough. The control center was in utter darkness; only the emergency flashlights of running personnel were working, creating a weird lightshow. The bridge sounded much quieter than it should and she was sure it had something to do with her concussion.
Please, no more deaths.
The fire sprinklers pumped non-flammable foam, covering the bodies, and Rebecca was thankful for it. One of the lights spotted Rebecca and trotted her way.

It was an ensign named Jackson. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

“It looks worse than it feels, ensign,” she said, whooping between every word, “Help me up, will you?”

It took both of their strength to move the console away. Rebecca couldn’t help but scream when Jackson pulled her up.

Matthews was with them in a second. “Ma’am?” he asked, taking Rebecca’s arm.

“Find me a chair,” Rebecca said under her breath, hoping it didn’t sound like begging, “and a med kit.” She grabbed Matthews. “Not you, Commander.”

Matthews nodded and gestured Jackson to fetch one. He seated her in a fallen chair “You are bleeding badly. Seems like something cut through your left side, near the stomach.”

“Commander, I couldn’t care less.” Rebecca grabbed his collar, “Just give me my damn report.” Matthews babbled a few words, and she slapped him. “Get ahold of yourself, First Officer!”

Although humiliating, the slap helped Matthews get back to his senses. “All major systems are down due to the explosion,” he rushed out. “We are trying to establish contact with the rest of the fleet, but it would be great if we could even look out a window.”

“That is the first decent idea I have heard from you, Matthews.” Rebecca smiled, though her voice sounded weaker than she liked. “Take someone with you and find a window or a hull breach”—she stopped to breathe—“Then report back to me.”

Jackson was back. He pulled out the morphine injector but she stopped him.

“No morphine. Just bandage the bloody wound.”

The boy complied and helped her move to the holographic display. Rebecca sent him away and then looked at the broken display. She summoned up her last strength to bark, “Where is my display, people!”

***

“Ah, so you woke up.”

“Are we dead?”

The ship’s doctor laughed. “No, but you certainly tried to kill us all.” She pulled out a penlight to check Rebecca’s pupils.

Rebecca noticed the working screens. Most were cracked and flickering, but they were
working.
“The power is back.”

“Well, they fixed it two days ago.”

“Two days!” She tried to stand up but the doctor stopped her.

“I will not let you open your stitches. I already have too many injured to attend and half of my staff is either dead or missing. If you need to know anything, an officer can brief you here.” She waved her assistant to let Matthews into the med bay. “You will stay in bed. Doctor’s orders.” She turned to face Matthews. “Five minutes, no more,” she warned the commander before leaving the two alone.

Matthews approached her bed and saluted Rebecca. “Ma’am.” His face looked like a zombie. He’d probably been awake the last two days.

Two days!
“Just tell me what happened.”

“The nukes worked.” He allowed a smile. “The alien ship has been destroyed, taking down almost all of their forces.”

“Remaining forces?”

“Radar shows nothing. They disappeared together with the black hole, like being sucked into a vacuum cleaner.”

“What about that gate?”

“The glowing signs died right after the explosion. We found a huge crack near one of the junctions on the structure and made sure to exploit it.”

Rebecca observed Matthews. He’d grown stubble. The bags under his eyes were as dark as that swirling black hole, but he stood straight, his shoulders firm. It looked as if Commander Matthews had found the courage he needed.
Maybe he has what it takes, after all
.

“…If those two dreadnoughts hadn’t been behind us during the explosion, we would be the only survivors,” Matthews continued.

Apparently, the nuclear electromagnetic pulse following the blast had
worked in their favor, shutting down the alien gate after the reaction in the huge spider’s engine. She hadn’t expected this outcome, and she was glad to see their luck turn. But the rest of the report was morbid. They had managed to stop the alien force but only the
Deviator, Shanghai
and
Beijing
survived the explosion. The patching had already started, but it would take months and a huge workforce to finish the repairs in full, let alone replace the personnel killed in action. According to the preliminary reports, they’d have to tow the
Beijing
to the nearest shipyard, in Fomalhaut, not risking turning on the engines as she had severe reactor damage. The
Shanghai
had extensive hull breaches, limiting the life support to three decks out of eighteen, confining the remaining crew into the gym deck and the water treatment system.