The Honour of the Knights, Stephen J. Sweeney [reading women .txt] 📗

obedient puppies. Griffin and Grendel's Mother in turn followed at a distance, the four carriers all moving closer to the expected arrival point of Dragon and her escorts. If they were too far from Dragon's arrival point, it would give the battleship ample time to escape the ambush. They slowed as they approached their designated positions and Parks addressed all four carriers for one last time, before they adopted radio silence and awaited their quarry.

“Manoeuvres complete, Commodore. In position,” Meyers reported.

“As we are,” Silverthorne added. “We have boarding parties on standby.”

“In position,” Mandeep said.

“Rearguard ready,” Hawke said.

Parks noted that Ifrit had barely moved since arriving at their destination. Though it irritated him, he chose to ignore it. Hawke did have a somewhat persuasive argument, but Parks still felt that his command and firepower would be more appreciated up front. He once again buried his feelings.

“Good,” he said. “You should each be aware of your role in this operation, which we will begin the moment Dragon is sighted. Should anything unexpected occur, that we cannot quickly and effectively handle, then we will form a tactical retreat. Commodore Hawke, I expect, will cover us in such an event.”

“You will have my full support if such an event does arise,” Hawke replied.

“Excellent,” Parks said. “Excellent. Now we wait.”

Although, from the way his hands had started to perspire, he got the feeling that they wouldn't be waiting for very long.

* * *

Dodds sat up as the red alert rang throughout the carrier, various orders and requests sounding from the PA system and echoing down the ship's corridors. He felt a sudden overwhelming compulsion come over him, and he sprang off the bed and made for the quarters' exit.

“Hey, come,” he said to the others.

“Where are you going?” Estelle said.

“To find somewhere to get a look,” Dodds said. “I've never seen Dragon before, and I might never get a chance like this again. I want to see this thing with my own two eyes.” He was surprised that Estelle was not keen to do the same.

“Wait for me,” Enrique said, as he clambered off his own bed. Kelly followed suit, stretching as she did so. Chaz tailed the two out the door, heading off down the corridor, silent as ever. Dodds lingered by the quarters' doorway.

“Hey, Dodds, what's the holdup?” Enrique called back.

“Just a second,” he said.

“Okay,” Enrique nodded and continued walking with Kelly and Chaz.

Dodds looked back to Estelle who was still perched on the end of the bed he had once occupied. “You not coming?”

“No, I'll wait here,” Estelle said, shaking her head. “If they need us, they'll look for us here, first.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

Dodds studied her. She looked pensive. He made to head off, then hesitated and came back to the doorway. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I just want to make sure we can be contacted.”

“Hmmmm, okay.” Dodds was certain that Estelle, as he, knew that it was a not a well-tailored excuse. The ship's PA system could be used to contact anyone aboard the ship, no matter where they were.

As he jogged down the corridors to catch up with the others, he wondered if there was something else playing on Estelle's mind. Had she suffered a sudden attack of nerves the moment that the alarm had started, the reality of the situation having only now sunk in? Perhaps Estelle was now feeling some of the concern that had gripped Kelly back on Spirit: realising that they wouldn't be fighting against a bunch of pirates or supporting an assault on a small, little-defended insurgent installation, but instead be facing up against seasoned starfighter pilots and battleships.

No, he thought to himself, catching up with the others who were holding the door to the deck lift. Estelle just needs time to prepare.

* * *

With the quarters empty, Estelle lay back on the bed that Dodds had vacated and began taking slow, measured breaths, her heart threatening to burst out of her ribcage.

“Please stop ringing,” she whispered to the alarm. “Just stop.”

* * *

Emerging from the deck lift, Dodds found himself in the one part of the ship that he would have preferred to avoid, his arrival here a result of following others, who also wished to observe the operation.

Griffin's bar, located on the port side of the main elevated portion of the carrier, offered a panoramic view of the surrounding space. The intention was to provide a pleasant backdrop for those relaxing and enjoying a drink. Due to its position, the bar was - aside from the bridge - the best place on the carrier to get a feel for what was happening outside.

Many other crew members were already clustered by the windows towards the bow and the four Knights hurried over to see what was happening, Dodds thankful that he was spared the sight of any alcohol with the way that he was feeling. Even before he had made it to the windows, Dodds could hear people cursing under their breath.

“That is a big ship,” Chaz said. Taller than his companions, he did not have to try and see between people's heads, being able to look over them, instead.

Dodds managed to find himself a spot and felt an equal sense of pure ambivalence. Unmissable, even at its distance ahead of Griffin, was Dragon; the massive battleship lying side on to their carrier, looking graceful, yet menacing in every aspect. Ahead of them, Grendel and Leviathan could be seen approaching, the tiny blue specks of starfighter engines leading the way.

“Where are the frigates?” Kelly asked, searching in all directions. She was standing on a chair.

“Don't know. Can't see any,” Dodds said, though he took little time to look. He found he was unable to tear his eyes away from the battleship that was their target.

“Intelligence may have got it wrong,” Enrique said. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

* * *

Parks had been bemused by the appearance of the stolen Confederation battleship without its escorts. Not that it needed any.

Dragon had arrived in the system not long after the allied forces had completed their tactical manoeuvres. A jump point had formed within their vicinity and Parks had ordered the immediate commencement of the operation. Bombers, alongside their support fighters, had surged forward to greet the newest arrival to the Aster system. Troop transports had joined just behind them, ready to attach themselves to Dragon's hull and deploy their deadly cargo of toxic gases and boarding parties, the moment the battleship was disabled.

“Prepare to transmit the override, Mr O'Donnell,” Parks said.

“Ready on your order, sir,” O'Donnell said, after verification at his console.

With the glow of starfighter engines growing ever smaller, Parks turned to the four holographic camera feeds he had earlier requested to monitor the operation. Each was sourced from a different target: one traced the starfighter and troop transports; another focused in on Dragon, herself. Yet another followed Leviathan and Grendel, and the last, the cockpit view of the leader of the Initial Run flight group.

Even from where he stood, watching the holographic relays, Parks found the sight of the massive Confederation battleship staggering. The fact that it was also in the hands of the Enemy was causing him considerable apprehension. He could not begin to imagine what the pilots seated within the front-line might be feeling at this time; though with the battleship having begun to turn to face its attackers, it could well be a sense of utter foreboding.

“Approaching Dragon,” the flight group leader communicated to Griffin. “Will be within weapons range in sixty seconds.”

Parks noted that some of the fighters were lowering their speed, so as not to expose themselves to the battleship's weapons systems too soon, their wingmates passing them by. Although both Dragon and the carriers that had come to meet it had been outfitted with similar weaponry, the turrets of Dragon had been upgraded to compliment the ship, granting them an increased range and thereby allowing them to be fired from a greater distance. That distance would soon be met by the flight group.

The closer the flight group drew towards it, the sharper their target's details came into relief. A graphic of a magnificent, blue-scaled Chinese dragon clung to the battleship's hull, its claws appearing to be latched deep into the metal. Dozens of tall yellow and red ridges covered the creature's back, whilst a pair of long, curved, white horns rose from the top of its head. Its mouth was open, drawn back into a ferocious snarl, displaying row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth. Two red eyes seemed to project a furious warning, warding off would-be attackers.

But now, Parks was satisfied that the flight group were as close as they needed to be. He turned to his chief communications officer. “Mr O'Donnell, send the code.”

“Sending code,” O'Donnell acknowledged both the commodore and the flight group. He made two brief strokes at his console. “Code sent.”

Parks further relayed the update to all on the battlefield. The confirmations came back. He then looked back to the holographic screens and waited. But after only a few seconds, great trepidations overcame him and his eyes flickered from one display to the next, seeing the same thing in each: lights continued to illuminate the surface of Dragon; windows, portholes, and exterior components, all visual indications that the ship was still operational. He looked past the displays to the scene beyond the carrier's frontal viewport, considering that the feeds might not be running in real time, perhaps delayed by a few seconds. Dragon still glittered with light.

“Mr O'Donnell? What's happening?” Parks said, not taking his eyes off the massive battleship. Have I just done the unthinkable and underestimated the Enemy upon my very first engagement?

“Code was transmitted successfully, sir,” O'Donnell replied, fingers darting across the console to confirm what he had just done. “Do you want me to try again?”

“Will be within weapons range in thirty seconds. Please advise,” came the voice of the flight group leader, calm, but with a notable trace of urgency.

Parks' mind raced to consider the possibilities and available options. There remained but two: he could request that the code be sent again, or he could immediately fall back to their other approach. If he requested the code to be retried, it would mean that the fighters, bombers, and landing parties would be vulnerable to Dragon's attack upon subsequent failure. On the other hand, the lack of frigates in the system could mean it would be easier to secure a forceful victory...

“Target disabled, sir,” O'Donnell interrupted his thoughts.

Parks looked up from his musings and saw that Dragon had ceased turning and now lay in darkness.

“All systems terminated. Shielding, weapon systems and mechanics have been shut down,” O'Donnell continued. “Life support is the only detectable working component. There must have been a delay in the transmission or reception of the code.”

“Gravitation systems?” Parks asked, looking to the various feeds to gain a better indication of Dragon's impairment.

“Down, sir,” O'Donnell said.

“Good. Relay that information to the boarding teams.”

“Yes, sir.”

So far, so good, Parks thought. Aside from the minor delay, it looked as though everything was going according to plan. There now only remained the matter of flooding the interior of Dragon with toxins as arranged, picking off any adversaries that may have managed to survive, and apprehending Admiral Zackaria, before rushing medical assistance to him.

A pity we could not have shut down life support, too, Parks mused. There would be no need to board the ship. We could have simply towed it back to Spirit and pulled the bodies out at the other end.

“Phase one of the operation is complete,” Parks said to the holographic images of his fellow command. “Grendel and Leviathan will continue as planned. Griffin and Grendel's Mother will stand their ground. Should Dragon's escorts arrive, then we will be in a better position to engage them.”

“Agreed,” came the resounding answer.

“Passing weapons range,” the voice of the Initial Run's flight leader came again. Parks looked back to the feed streaming from the Rook. Tension eased away as it and the rest of the flight group passed the danger threshold of Dragon's armaments, unchallenged.

The group were bearing broadside to the battleship, the proximity now meaning that the flight leader's cockpit view could no longer fully accommodate the entire length of the colossal vessel. The words “C.S.N. Dragon” inscribed in tall, bold red lettering were now so close that Parks could start to make out where the paintwork was in need of touching up.

He beckoned to a member of the bridge's security team, who approached him. “Please locate Andrea Kennedy and the other Red Devils, and ask them to join me on the bridge.” The man saluted and made his way to