Strike Two

© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


While New Horizon was known and widely regarded as the headquarters world of the Terran Colonial government, it wasn’t a planet. It was a dwarf planet, less than a thousand kilometers across and bearing an interlocking complex of habitats with a population of maybe a million.

Several sensor technicians there and aboard a few ships in the system saw a hyperspace wake and raised the alarm.

The ship was likely a small one, basically a scout with a cruiser’s engines and a simply-programmed AI aboard. It was a sibling of Blue Thunderbolt, one of four ships configured for a simple mission. Its three siblings had failed to destroy the Kashlanin home system.

This one would not fail.

New Horizon was a small target, and even with expert navigation by the AI there was a vanishingly small chance of missing the dwarf planet. The star it orbited, however, was a spectral class G body similar in some respects to Sol, and there was no chance of missing it.

Blue Thunderbolt Four accomplished the goal of its mission profile by diving straight into the star’s gravity well with its hyperfield at full power.

The star exploded.

Six minutes ten seconds later, the expanding wavefront of rippling spacetime, stellar debris, superheated plasma and charged particles, moving at near light speed, struck New Horizon and most of the ships that were orbiting it. A few ships at the fringes of the system managed to get away as the dwarf planet was pulverized by the explosion.


***


“Incoming wake, Gartabin. From Terran space!”

K’Jen’s claws extended. “Arm primaries, shields at full power,” he ordered, and the command crew of the Kith tensed at their controls. Indicator lights showed that the auxiliary command station was ready to take over as necessary. “ID?”

“None, sir.”

“Evasive maneuvers at my direction,” the kam said as the tactical plot showed the target ship’s field collapsing.

Sensors told the tale: Patrol cruiser, Terran, Monarch class.

“Power curve states its shields are up and weapons charging,” the Rakhani-kestin said. She paused and glanced at the Communications Officer. “The ship calls us.”

“My repeater,” and the captain looked down and to his left as the screen showed a canine face. “Captain Kodai. You will cross our border?”

“I already have, Captain k’Jen,” the Shiba Inu said. He smiled. “Please be aware that I have always liked you.” The screen blanked.

“Communications are being jammed,” and the Kith’s hull rang in sympathy as Communications reported.

“We are being fired upon,” Weapons said. “Defensive tumble started. They are maneuvering to within missile range.”

“Evasive,” k’Jen said. “Attack pattern S-6.”

The two ships began a lethal ballet, each trying to land a significant hit or jockey into range to fire antishield missiles. Focused energy struck shielding, and the ship quivered as the impact resonated. “We have sustained ten percent damage, Gartabin,” Weapons reported, managing to stay on her feet as the gravity fluctuated. “The Terran ship has twelve percent damage.”

K’Jen gestured comprehension. “Can you get through their interference?”

“A contact report was sent before the jamming began,” Communications replied.

The kam grinned like a jorhim. “Time to stop this. Weapons, attack pattern M-9.”

“Ulnt, Gartabin.” The Kith turned and began to disengage from the Rani Anitra, moving as if its engines were damaged. It was a stupid move, wholly transparent to an attacker, and after a moment the Terran ship began to pursue, warily keeping its distance as the Imperial ship moved further away from the border. It would close in, fire a few shots at the Kashlanin cruiser’s engines, then fall back before its quarry could pivot and lash out.

“Minor damage to the engines,” Weapons reported. The vir smiled. “Repairs are ongoing.”

“Good. Sensor contacts?”

“None ye – hold! Two wakes incoming, Gartabin, IDs are Kashlanin.”

“Attack pattern Zh-5, stand by.” He stood up and walked into the tactical plot to stand by the Weapons Officer. “Wait . . . now!”

The Kith darted away as two ships erupted from hyperspace, the Baraxjir and a larger cruiser, then flipped end-for-end and dove at the Terran ship, ducking and weaving as it came on, firing all the while. The other two Imperial ships followed suit, the Baraxjir risking its safety by charging directly at the Rani Anitra and firing missiles at it. It took two return hits from nuclear-tipped Terran weapons and spun away, tumbling to protect the unshielded areas of its hull.

The larger cruiser closed on the Terran ship, its secondaries picking off antishield missiles while raking the gaps in the intruder’s shields. The three ships hammered away at the Terran cruiser as its rate of fire and power utilization curve began to fall off.

“Ask the cruiser to slacken fire,” k’Jen said. “Damage to the Terran?”

“Hull compromised, damage at sixty percent, power curve fluctuating . . . its shields collapse. Orders?”

The kam scowled, baring his teeth as his fingerclaws extended. He said, “They have attacked us. Strike to kill,” and he made a savage slashing motion with his hand and tail.

The trio of Imperial ships made short work of the Terran cruiser.

“Message, sir,” Communications said. “Do we require assistance?”

K’Jen glanced at Weapons, who gestured negation after listening to the damage control reports. “We do not. Alert the Fleet, and I shall provide an action report.” He resumed his seat and sat back, feeling the stress drain out of him as more ships arrived.

Communications said, “Subcommander g’Raf for you, sir.”

“My repeater. Yes, Nurdorwant?”

Varan had been in auxiliary command, and she looked disturbed. “Gartabin, I report that Commander z’Xan was injured. The Surgeon-master reports that her injuries are mortal.”

“I see. You are in command of the Weapons Division, Nurdorwant.”

The vir’s ears dipped, then perked. “Yes, sir.”