Justine Mingana: Part Nine

Three hours crawled by.

            Mingana had gone straight to the bridge after the weapons room seizure. She ignored her marines' insistence that she stop at sickbay to get her arm treated. She had the medics meet her on the bridge instead.

            Stripped down to a sleeveless black undershirt, with burn-treatment gauze covering her tricep wound, Captain Mingana stood beside her chair, eyes glued to an interface.

            The Consortium ships had dropped into extended sensor range. As was mapped out before the mission, neither ship would make contact with the Horseman until they were within ten million miles of the city.

            Mingana brought up schematics of both ships. They were roughly crab shaped vessels, each one slightly larger than the Horsemen, with shields powerful enough to withstand sustained bombardment from the most lethal of ship-killing missiles. Those shields, however, were only effective when they were up. At the moment those ships lay bare, like lions bereft of teeth and claws. The key in this operation was timing. Hit them while they were weak. Hit them hard. Mingana licked her mental chops, savoring the slaughter she was about to inflict.

            “Consortium vessels have crossed the strike threshold, Captain,” Commander Povich reported, facing a gridded tactical interface.

            Mingana acknowledged her Second's announcement with a crisp nod. She tapped an comm function on her chair. “Lt. Commander Kochran, status.”

            “The packages are ready,” came Kochran's confident voice.

            “Thank you.” Mingana turned to a senior combat officer. “Launch.”

            The officer tapped keys on his console. “Yes, Captain. Initiating launch. Release in five...four...three...two...

 

***

           

            Two thermal nuclear missiles exited the Horseman at velocities approaching light. They were human built with Calaar cloaking emitters embedded in their warheads.

            Shortly before the Consortium occupied Earth, the Calaar added upgraded stealth to their capabilities, giving them a slight edge over their enemies in that area. The missiles were not simply swathed in light deflectant bubbles, they moved in subspace, further masking their existence from opposing optics and sensors. Fortunately, the Resistance's sole Calaar member, Ot^^^, had overseen the salvaging of a few new generation cloaking emitters. Afterward, the Consortium swept the solar system clean of any traces of Calaar technology.

            The first Consortium ship became a pitch black cutout at the heart of a massive glare of hell light when the first missile struck it. A cascade of released nuclear fury cooked the ship, reducing it to a crumpled, smoldering husk. What remained of the vessel drifted powerlessly  in the void. The second missile was knocked off of its trajectory by the pummeling effects of the first blast, sustaining just enough damage to short out its stealth function.

            The missile emerged into full visibility five seconds before terminal contact with the second Consortium ship...which was more than enough time for the ship's close range defenses to respond.

            Mingana watched her interface, the ecstatic thrill she felt witnessing the first ship's demise replaced by sickening horror as the second missile's cloak failed. A glittering salvo of close-range defense fire blew the missile apart in a blinding massive glow that quickly subsided like a snuffed out candle flame.

            Mortified silence seized the bridge. The mission could only succeed if both enemy ships were destroyed. Mingana had to stop that second ship at all costs. All costs!

            “Prep ship to ship missiles,” she ordered. “Move forward to engagement range, full impulse.”

            Commander Povich didn't bat an eye when he relayed his captain's orders. Neither did anyone else on the bridge for that matter. Yet, they all knew that the Horseman, a human built vessel, stood little chance in a head to head encounter with a product of advanced extraterrestrial technology. But doing nothing at all to prevent the deaths of billions was certainly not an option.

            Twenty Dragon Flare ship to ship missiles shot out from the Horseman's launchers, slicing a deadly path toward the Consortium ship. One by one the missiles vanished in a frenetic maelstrom of precision enemy counter fire.

            Emitter nodes pimpling the enemy ship's hull spat incandescent lashes of energy toward the Horseman.

            The human ship bucked violently as impacting beams speared explosively into its hull. Followup anti-ship missiles tore glowing gashes in the Horseman. Atmosphere plumed from numerous hull breaches, crystallizing in the freezing vacuum.

            Bridge lighting and well over two thirds of interface screens blinked out. Auxiliary power had suffered substantially. Barely enough backup lighting clicked on to adequately alleviate the bridge's shadowy darkness.

            Operations consoles sizzled and sparked from pernicious power surges.

            “Guidance systems have suffered critical damage,” Povich reported, more calmly than the situation warranted. “Breaches are on every level...overall life support is at 80 percent, but that number is dropping.”

            “Casualties?” Mingana asked.

            “Eleven dead...so far. Twice that number injured according to sickbay data.”

            The captain dropped a dejected gaze. More losses under her command...but she could not turn back. She refused. “Maintain target lock on enemy ship. Keep firing.”

            “Most of our batteries are inoperable,” Povich said with a heavy grimace.

            Mingana looked determinedly at her Second. “Then we'll use the batteries we have left, and when they're exhausted or destroyed, we'll come at that ship with fists, feet and teeth if need be.”

            Povich gazed appreciatively at Mingana. “If need be. It's been an honor serving with you, Captain.”

            Mingana smirked. “Likewise, Commander. But no happy farewells just yet. I want to at least bloody their noses.”

            The Horseman and Consortium ship exchanged volleys. But the Horseman's missiles were knocked out of space faster than they could launch. By contrast, every missile cast by the enemy ship penetrated the Horesman's paltry defense screen with contemptuous lack of effort. More breaches opened up the length and breadth of the Horseman's hull, a few so deep as to gut entire levels. Crewmembers not incinerated in the blasts were sucked out into space in raging windstorms.

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