a last stand against vast odds.
The fighters, ten-man craft loaded with short-range rockets and cannon, streaked past the Waning Moon , the pilots saluting their fellow ship as custom dictated. They locked on to the Furious Abyss , the squadron leaders marking out targets on the immense dark red hull already pocked with lance scars and broadside craters from the battering the Wrathful had given it. Shield housings, sensor clusters and exhaust vents all lit up on the tactical display in a backwash of emerald light. Targeting cogitators locked on and burned red.
Silver Three, flown by Pilot Second-Class Carnagan Thaal, matched assigned approach vectors and built to full attack run speed. Through the shallow forward viewscreen, Thaal could see the Furious Abyss crisscrossed by laser battery barrage, its prow a flickering mass of smouldering metal.
He ordered his weapons officers to lock on to their target, a stretch of gun turrets along the Furious ’s dorsal spine. The port guns obeyed, the lascannon mounts swivelling into position.
The starboard guns did not move.
Pilot Thaal repeated his order through the ship’s vox. His copilot, Rugel, checked the array, but found nothing amiss.
‘Rugel, go down to the armaments deck and align those guns,’
Thaal ordered, deciding there was enough time before they hit their final approach vector.
The co-pilot nodded and tore out the wires attaching him to his seat and the console in front of him, and swung around in his chair.
‘Scell, what are you doing?’ Thaal heard his co-pilot ask and turned to get a good look at what was going on.
He started when he saw Weapons Officer Carina Scell standing there with her autopistol in her hand. Thaal was about to tell her to get back to her post and get the damn cannons locked on when Scell shot him in the face.
76
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
She took Rugel in the chest, stepping forward to deliver the shot point-blank. Bleeding badly, the copilot scrabbled to get his sidearm out of its holster.
‘It is written,’ Scell said, and shot him twice more in the head.
Silver Three continued on its attack vector. Scell headed below decks to finish her work.
‘SILVER THREE’S DOWN,’ said Officer Artemis on the fighter control deck of the Boundless . The deck ran almost a third of the length of the Boundless to accommodate the numerous tactical consoles.
Captain Vorlov, his face awash in the reflected ochre glow of datascreens, paid it little heed as he prowled the ranks of fighter controllers. Attack craft were always lost. It was the way of the void.
Vorlov continued his tour, preferring to witness firsthand the actions of his fighters rather than make do with the fragmented reports filtering through to the bridge. The Boundless was a dedicated carrier for attack craft and his duties were here, listening to the fates of his fighter wings. His helms-mate was perfectly capable of keeping the ship running in his absence.
‘Any defensive fire?’ asked Vorlov of the nearest control overseer.
‘None yet,’ said the overseer, whose shaved scalp was festooned with wires feeding information from each controller into her brain.
‘But we’re in range of their countermeasures,’ said Vorlov, a thought occurring to him. ‘You! What took down Silver Three?’
The controller looked up from his screen. ‘Unknown. The pilot went off my screen. Possible crew casualties.’
‘Non-standard transmissions from Gold Nine,’ said another controller hunched over his screen. He held one of his earphones tight against his head and winced as he tried to hear more clearly. ‘Some kind of commotion aboard ship, sire. They’re not responding to protocols.’
77
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
‘Bring them in. The rest of you, report any further anomalies!’
Vorlov harrumphed in annoyance and leaned forward on his cane. The Saturnine Fleet had the best small craft pilots this side of the galactic centre. They didn’t
The fighters, ten-man craft loaded with short-range rockets and cannon, streaked past the Waning Moon , the pilots saluting their fellow ship as custom dictated. They locked on to the Furious Abyss , the squadron leaders marking out targets on the immense dark red hull already pocked with lance scars and broadside craters from the battering the Wrathful had given it. Shield housings, sensor clusters and exhaust vents all lit up on the tactical display in a backwash of emerald light. Targeting cogitators locked on and burned red.
Silver Three, flown by Pilot Second-Class Carnagan Thaal, matched assigned approach vectors and built to full attack run speed. Through the shallow forward viewscreen, Thaal could see the Furious Abyss crisscrossed by laser battery barrage, its prow a flickering mass of smouldering metal.
He ordered his weapons officers to lock on to their target, a stretch of gun turrets along the Furious ’s dorsal spine. The port guns obeyed, the lascannon mounts swivelling into position.
The starboard guns did not move.
Pilot Thaal repeated his order through the ship’s vox. His copilot, Rugel, checked the array, but found nothing amiss.
‘Rugel, go down to the armaments deck and align those guns,’
Thaal ordered, deciding there was enough time before they hit their final approach vector.
The co-pilot nodded and tore out the wires attaching him to his seat and the console in front of him, and swung around in his chair.
‘Scell, what are you doing?’ Thaal heard his co-pilot ask and turned to get a good look at what was going on.
He started when he saw Weapons Officer Carina Scell standing there with her autopistol in her hand. Thaal was about to tell her to get back to her post and get the damn cannons locked on when Scell shot him in the face.
76
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
She took Rugel in the chest, stepping forward to deliver the shot point-blank. Bleeding badly, the copilot scrabbled to get his sidearm out of its holster.
‘It is written,’ Scell said, and shot him twice more in the head.
Silver Three continued on its attack vector. Scell headed below decks to finish her work.
‘SILVER THREE’S DOWN,’ said Officer Artemis on the fighter control deck of the Boundless . The deck ran almost a third of the length of the Boundless to accommodate the numerous tactical consoles.
Captain Vorlov, his face awash in the reflected ochre glow of datascreens, paid it little heed as he prowled the ranks of fighter controllers. Attack craft were always lost. It was the way of the void.
Vorlov continued his tour, preferring to witness firsthand the actions of his fighters rather than make do with the fragmented reports filtering through to the bridge. The Boundless was a dedicated carrier for attack craft and his duties were here, listening to the fates of his fighter wings. His helms-mate was perfectly capable of keeping the ship running in his absence.
‘Any defensive fire?’ asked Vorlov of the nearest control overseer.
‘None yet,’ said the overseer, whose shaved scalp was festooned with wires feeding information from each controller into her brain.
‘But we’re in range of their countermeasures,’ said Vorlov, a thought occurring to him. ‘You! What took down Silver Three?’
The controller looked up from his screen. ‘Unknown. The pilot went off my screen. Possible crew casualties.’
‘Non-standard transmissions from Gold Nine,’ said another controller hunched over his screen. He held one of his earphones tight against his head and winced as he tried to hear more clearly. ‘Some kind of commotion aboard ship, sire. They’re not responding to protocols.’
77
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
‘Bring them in. The rest of you, report any further anomalies!’
Vorlov harrumphed in annoyance and leaned forward on his cane. The Saturnine Fleet had the best small craft pilots this side of the galactic centre. They didn’t
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