Wanderer - Echoes of the Past

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“Convoy has passed the point of no return.”

Captain Dash took a deep breath at the confirmation. The convoy he stalked was now too deep into the planet’s gravity well to enter jump space. He punched a button on his chair.

“All ships, engage the convoy. Deal with any defences but try to keep the ships in one piece. Anyone destroying a cargo ship better have a damn good explanation.”

Releasing the button he studied his display. The convoy had been clearly marked since it came within range, but Dash’s fleet of ships had been displayed as shadowy guesses. Every ship had been running cold, sensors off and engines ticking over, waiting for the convoy to draw close enough. Now the display lit up as more and more of his ships poured power to their thrusters and switched to active sensors.

“Helm, take us in at full power,” he called out. “Target the lead freighter.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Dash was pushed back in his seat as the Anguish accelerated heavily. Despite being the largest ship in his fleet it could keep pace with all but the fast attack fighters. Satisfied that they were charging towards the fight, Dash returned his attention to the display.

The convoy was aware of the danger it faced now. The cargo ships were piling on as much speed as they could in a futile attempt to run, while escort ships and fighters broke away to face the incoming threat.

The defensive forces consisted of thirty Fighters and seven bombers, bolstered with five larger gunboats and one corvette. A powerful force, easily capable of deterring most pirate raids. Expensive, too. Proof the convoy carried something of significant value. Whoever was in charge had gone to great efforts to keep it safe.

Dash wondered what was going through their head right now, as it became obvious they hadn’t done nearly enough. The Anguish on its own was more than a match for the defensive forces. An ex-Imperial Frigate with enough firepower to decimate not just the defensive ships but the huge freighters they sought to protect. The rest of his fleet consisted of smaller ships – three corvettes, sixteen freighters and over two hundred fighters. What made them so dangerous wasn’t their numbers, though, it was the near military discipline Dash insisted on. He watched as his fleet pulled together into several tight formations, focusing in on those combat ships lined up in defence.

The defenders would know what they faced now. This was no disorganised pirate raid, no unruly charge to grab the spoils. This was a well coordinated assault from overwhelming forces. The question was, how would they react?

The answer soon became clear as large groups of the defenders peeled off, turning away from the incoming threat and lighting their drives at full power. Realising they had no hope of winning they turned tail and ran. Dash had expected no less. Mercenaries had no interest in dying for lost causes.

He still felt contempt for the fleeing ships, in stark contrast to his respect for those ships which remained. Despite now being hopelessly overwhelmed, most of the remaining ships continued to hold position. They would be crewed by relatives of those in the freighters, or in a few cases by mercenaries who actually believed in honouring their contract no matter what. Dash felt a strange pride watching those few ships holding position, a feeling that was crushed by his next action. He pressed the button to broadcast to his fleet again.

“Engage and destroy all defensive ships. No survivors.”

The last two words tasted like ashes in his mouth, echoes of a time he had no desire to remember. Angrily suppressing the memory, he studied the display once more. Yes, the defenders were brave, but he couldn’t spare them. If he did then on the next raid less ships would flee and more would stand. The rule was simple. Any who stood must die.

The battle was short and exceptionally one sided. Had the defenders bunched together they might have had some limited success. Instead they stayed spread out sticking to their attempts to shield the freighters. Dash’s fleet smashed through them without slowing, destroying every defender with overwhelming firepower. None of his ships even took any damage.

Then it was time to focus on the freighters. He wanted them taken with the minimum of damage. Far easier to steal the ship carrying the cargo than to transfer it all off the wreckage of a dying ship.

“Foster!” he barked out. “Arrange intercepts of the freighters. Try to keep damage to a minimum. We want them in one piece when our men board.”

“Aye, Sir,” replied Dash’s second in command. “Already on it.”

Dash just nodded. He’d expected as much. They had run this type of assault so many times now that his men knew the parts they needed to play very well. Almost too well, in fact. For that reason Dash often threw in unnecessary changes, or gave tasks to different crew members than normal. He needed them all sharp and thinking clearly. There was no space for falling into routines in his fleet. That led to carelessness, and carelessness led to death.