Chapter 13

The Idenux attacked the moment the convoy emerged from hyperjump. The Family ships were vulnerable for nearly 30 seconds while their systems reset, and then the escort closed ranks around the convoy to defend it.

Corey brushed the sweat out of her eyes and issued orders to get the defensive weapons on the five surviving Families’ warships interlocked. They hadn’t finished repairing all of the damage from their last fight, especially with the environmental system, so the temperature on the bridge varied between ‘stinking hot’ and ‘oven-roasted.’

“Shift the formation lower,” the Captain said. “That one cruiser can still get around us.”

“Aye, Ma’am,” Corey responded. She was filling in as the Squadron Coordination Officer, the captain’s tactical alter ego, and responsible for formation changes.

In the last three days of fighting, they’d taken casualties, and Third Officer Demerova had been one of them. Ordinarily, when that happened, the Captain would handle the coordination of the squadron as well as commanding the ship, but she’d willingly given way to Corey.

“You commanded a squadron of fighters,” she said when they’d wheeled Officer Demerova off the Bridge. “You’re the only other person on this ship who’s even remotely qualified for the job.”

“But Ma’am--”

“Just do it, Andersen,” the Captain said tiredly. “We’ll square the paperwork later.”

Now Corey ‘reached’ through her shunt, mentally opening the proper frequency. “Yak and Spitfire, pull back slightly, down and left will do it; Wildcat, drop about 5º from current; Owl, extend nominal south from flagship three percent. They’re trying to get under us. Acknowledge and Execute.”

She felt the replies more than heard them, and like a well-oiled machine, the squadron flexed and slid down to cover against the Idenux attack.

The kin-stealers may have been waiting for that, two of them tried to go ‘over’ the formation to get at the convoy behind the Families ships. But by pulling Yak and Spitfire back as she’d done, Corey had pivoted the defensive formation, making it that much harder for raiders to get at the merchants.

The Idenux still tried, but Families escorts were designed to stop missile fire. Their extra groups of patrolling cats, and their 12-point defenses per ship stopped the Idenux missile barrage. The convoy responded by accelerating on a new vector, building energy for their next hyperjump.

“I wish I knew how the kin-stealers keep finding us,” the Captain said. “This was supposed to be a quiet run.”

“I’ve got one of them locked up,” Fourth Officer Deirdre Harrigan said. She had charge of the Mustang’s offensive weapons, two energy mounts and two missile launchers. This group of Idenux, unlike the ones they’d encountered the previous time they’d come out of hyperjump, were making predictable attack runs.

The Mustang shook slightly as Officer Harrigan began launching her missiles. She’d passed her projections on to the other ships, and they added missiles to the barrage. Some of the missiles carried bomb-pumped lasers and some had antimatter area effect warheads designed to blind enemy sensors. The majority, though, carried sub-munitions, independently maneuvering warheads. This was how an escort could, at short range, have the same firepower as a cruiser.

Corey ignored the outgoing salvo. There were four Idenux out there, which the books she had studied back at Command & Staff School said should be more than enough to overwhelm five battered escorts. Not on her watch, she thought, biting her lip.

Officer Harrigan focused her shots on the nearest Idenux. She punched home hit after hit. Pieces flew off, and the enemy ship ceased accelerating. Given a steady target course, she turned loose her energy mounts, raking the kin-stealer with hit after hit.

The other Idenux used the opportunity to try to duck under the formation. Without awaiting orders—she had discussed this possibility with the Captain—Corey rotated the formation and dropped on them. For a few seconds, the space between the warships was filled with missiles and energy strikes.

Mustang shook as something got through their layers of defense. At this range, the cats didn’t have time to intercept the oncoming missiles, so the officer in charge of them pulled them back. The dolphin brain at Mustang’s heart began to make minute course changes, ones that wouldn’t affect the fire from the ship, but would hopefully spare it some of the shots coming their way.

They took hits anyway. One knocked out a missile loader, the other set off a chain reaction of electrical shorts in the forward part of the ship. A gust of heated air swept through the vents, raising the temperature still further. Corey could hear a damage control team through the ship’s comm network. They were battling an electrical fire two compartments over.

The Idenux felt the bombardment, though. One ship turned away, out-gassing and spewing water vapor. Another vanished in a ball of nuclear fire as a contact missile caught it. The last one pulled back, not wanting the attention of all of the Families’ ships.

“Corey, don’t,” Officer Brillon said as Corey started to send orders to attack the Idenux. “We need to catch up with the convoy. Shift to a standard antimissile formation.”

Corey had cut diagrams of each basic formation out of her textbook and taped them over her console. She glanced at them, selecting the one she wanted.

“All ships: Mustang Coordination. Reform, Standard Formation Three. Take course from Mustang Astrogation. Acceleration 290 Gs. We’re going back to the convoy, girls. Acknowledge and Execute.”

The other ships shifted formation as they raced back to the merchants. Corey leaned back in her seat, massaging her neck just below her shunt. This had been an easy fight compared to the others. They hadn’t lost any ships, which was a relief. In the last action, the Idenux had destroyed an escort and their remaining cruiser. Then she saw the repeater screen for Damage Control. They’d taken a worse beating than she’d thought.

“I’ve got two ships powering up just ahead of the convoy,” Fifth Officer Ramson called.

“Max acceleration,” Officer Brillon replied.

Corey sighed and sank her awareness back into her shunt. For a few seconds, she struggled to cope as the raw feed from all of the sensors on Mustang were fed directly to her nervous system. After another deep, settling breath, she focused. She had business to attend to.

Her experience told her that the intercepting warships might be able to make one attack on the merchants. That was one attack too many. Mustang’s engines were still unaffected by the damage they’d taken, and they could just get into position to intercept the attack. One damaged escort against two fresh cruisers; the odds were bad, and if the convoy had only been carrying cargo, she might not have considered attacking. But there were 7,500 women and children in that convoy. Those people couldn’t be put at risk.