Read Online Jack of Harts 2.5: Wolfenheim Rising by Medron Pryde - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Medron Pryde
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scout.
“Firing, Ma’am,” Thompson finished repeating her order, in accordance with standard Navy doctrine, as the missiles tore the scout apart before their eyes. That particular protocol seemed rather pointless to Malcolm as anybody with working eyes could see they were firing. But the Navy had their regulations. As he watched, the wreckage of the scout began to drift apart, victim of the gravitic currents swirling around the devastation.
“Good job, guns,” Wyatt congratulated, and turned to Malcolm with a smile. “Well. That was exciting. Did you enjoy your first hyperspace ambush?”
“It was…quick,” Malcolm responded, holding Dawn’s gaze for another second. She nodded back without a word. It could have been them under surprise attack. Four years of planning, wiped out in seconds by a chance meeting, and he couldn’t have done a thing to stop it. It was a humbling realization. “Meeting ships in hyperspace is…dangerous.”
Wyatt nodded very slowly, expression sober. “It’s incredibly rare. But yes. Very dangerous.” She turned back to her crew with a sigh. “Lieutenant Lopez. Bring us up into normalspace now,” she ordered, her voice under complete control.
“Surfacing now, Ma’am,” Jorge Lopez acknowledged, and the fabric of hyperspace began to twist around them as Normandy’s hyperdrive flexed her muscles. Every exterior display blinked out for a moment, and when they came back online an inky darkness filled by pinpricks of light surrounded them. One by one, the other ships of their fleet flashed into being around them, a rainbow of light radiating from them as they bled off the excess energy of their transit. In a matter of seconds, every last member of the Wolfenheim Project had arrived at their destination.
Sunnydale was the last major colony short of the Hyades Cluster, the linchpin in a network of military bases that kept pressure on Shang forces holding the cluster. Malcolm knew that intellectually. News reports of the brave stand of Sunnydale were legion, after all. But as the massive network of fortifications began to populate the sensor displays, he truly began to realize what it meant. Most of the stations were mere sensor platforms, scattered throughout the star system to keep track of starship traffic, but many others displayed the symbols of true forts inside jamming bubbles that disrupted hyperspace a lightminute across. The forts ringed both inhabited planets, protecting the inner system from the sneak attacks the Shang had become famous for.
Normandy and her charges had arrived far outside that cluttered part of the system though, near a single massive gas giant that dominated the view of nearby space. One display showed a zoomed-in view of the world, revealing the spiraling bright orange and red storms that gave it the name Torchdale. Another display came to life, and Malcolm had to suppress a gasp of amazement. Someone else on the bridge failed to suppress the urge, and he couldn’t blame them.
Hundreds of warships from every nation of the Western Alliance orbited the gas giant, icons proudly proclaiming their country of origin. Entire fleets of British, German, French, and American warships held formation near the fortified moons, ready to respond to any Shang incursion. Individual squadrons from other countries dotted the edges of the larger formations, and a few single ships held station next to one of the larger forts. Shuttles and fighters appeared as pinpricks of light, moving around the larger starships in a never-ending dance that betrayed the energy running through the fleet.
Malcolm whistled when he recognized the icon for Columbia , flagship of the American fleet. Far larger than any of the twenty or so dreadnoughts he could see, she didn’t even have an official class name. The newsies joked that it was because there was no other ship that could match her, and as one display zoomed in
“Firing, Ma’am,” Thompson finished repeating her order, in accordance with standard Navy doctrine, as the missiles tore the scout apart before their eyes. That particular protocol seemed rather pointless to Malcolm as anybody with working eyes could see they were firing. But the Navy had their regulations. As he watched, the wreckage of the scout began to drift apart, victim of the gravitic currents swirling around the devastation.
“Good job, guns,” Wyatt congratulated, and turned to Malcolm with a smile. “Well. That was exciting. Did you enjoy your first hyperspace ambush?”
“It was…quick,” Malcolm responded, holding Dawn’s gaze for another second. She nodded back without a word. It could have been them under surprise attack. Four years of planning, wiped out in seconds by a chance meeting, and he couldn’t have done a thing to stop it. It was a humbling realization. “Meeting ships in hyperspace is…dangerous.”
Wyatt nodded very slowly, expression sober. “It’s incredibly rare. But yes. Very dangerous.” She turned back to her crew with a sigh. “Lieutenant Lopez. Bring us up into normalspace now,” she ordered, her voice under complete control.
“Surfacing now, Ma’am,” Jorge Lopez acknowledged, and the fabric of hyperspace began to twist around them as Normandy’s hyperdrive flexed her muscles. Every exterior display blinked out for a moment, and when they came back online an inky darkness filled by pinpricks of light surrounded them. One by one, the other ships of their fleet flashed into being around them, a rainbow of light radiating from them as they bled off the excess energy of their transit. In a matter of seconds, every last member of the Wolfenheim Project had arrived at their destination.
Sunnydale was the last major colony short of the Hyades Cluster, the linchpin in a network of military bases that kept pressure on Shang forces holding the cluster. Malcolm knew that intellectually. News reports of the brave stand of Sunnydale were legion, after all. But as the massive network of fortifications began to populate the sensor displays, he truly began to realize what it meant. Most of the stations were mere sensor platforms, scattered throughout the star system to keep track of starship traffic, but many others displayed the symbols of true forts inside jamming bubbles that disrupted hyperspace a lightminute across. The forts ringed both inhabited planets, protecting the inner system from the sneak attacks the Shang had become famous for.
Normandy and her charges had arrived far outside that cluttered part of the system though, near a single massive gas giant that dominated the view of nearby space. One display showed a zoomed-in view of the world, revealing the spiraling bright orange and red storms that gave it the name Torchdale. Another display came to life, and Malcolm had to suppress a gasp of amazement. Someone else on the bridge failed to suppress the urge, and he couldn’t blame them.
Hundreds of warships from every nation of the Western Alliance orbited the gas giant, icons proudly proclaiming their country of origin. Entire fleets of British, German, French, and American warships held formation near the fortified moons, ready to respond to any Shang incursion. Individual squadrons from other countries dotted the edges of the larger formations, and a few single ships held station next to one of the larger forts. Shuttles and fighters appeared as pinpricks of light, moving around the larger starships in a never-ending dance that betrayed the energy running through the fleet.
Malcolm whistled when he recognized the icon for Columbia , flagship of the American fleet. Far larger than any of the twenty or so dreadnoughts he could see, she didn’t even have an official class name. The newsies joked that it was because there was no other ship that could match her, and as one display zoomed in
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