“Starboard Ghost cluster: launched!” said Deneuve, almost before the order had left Grisham’s mouth.

  The warship’s starboard cluster spat out eight warheads, which accelerated across the five thousand metres separating the two warships. Orange propulsion trails were vivid in the sand gloom of the storm.

  “Gatlers set to track and destroy,” said Deneuve, her hands moving rapidly across her control panel.

  Either the enemy crew were incompetent – which was unlikely – or they had indeed been taken by surprise. All eight of the Ghosts detonated against the Kijol destroyer’s portside armour. The eruption of plasma was starkly bright on the feeds and Grisham narrowed his eyes instinctively.

  Eight missiles weren’t nearly enough to destroy the enemy spaceship and sticking around to duke it out was a sure path to failure. The Castigate’s nose was already pointing along the fissure and Grisham slammed the control bars to the ends of their guide slots, cursing that he didn’t have time to bring any of the warship’s other three loaded clusters to bear.

  The Kijol were tough opponents and it wasn’t easy to sucker punch them out of a fight. Moments after the Ghost detonations, the enemy destroyer climbed rapidly out of the chasm, its enormous propulsion creating a reverberation that was picked up by the Castigate’s sensors.

  “We caught them napping,” said Grisham. “They’ve taken themselves out of the firing line – the moment they realise they’re only facing a Tibor, they’ll come after us.”

  “That didn’t look like any normal Kijol destroyer, sir,” said Lopez. “It was a couple of hundred metres greater in length and I estimate its mass at near on a billion tons. That’s way up on anything we’ve seen before.”

  Grisham’s mind was catching up and he knew Lopez was right. The Aeon here on Tambus had the usual cuboid shape of other Kijol destroyers, narrowing at the nose, with the same half-dozen superfluous backward-curving spines jutting from its flanks like blades on the wheels of an ancient chariot. And yet, it was different to the Aeon destroyers Grisham had encountered before, not just in size and mass, but in the way it accelerated from the fissure, as if its propulsion output was fifty percent higher than normal.

  Suddenly, Grisham was even less eager to face this opponent. The Castigate was carrying Ghost missiles, as well as some ancient nukes, and it was fitted with countermeasures, but nothing that would defeat a Kijol destroyer – particularly a modified Kijol destroyer.

  The walls of the fissure sped by in a blur and Grisham banked to follow as it turned south. He kept an anxious eye on the topside feeds, anticipating the appearance of a dark shape.

  “Where’s that destroyer?” he asked angrily.

  “They’re keeping out of sight, sir,” said Lopez. “They’ll be burning hot and spilling light after those missile strikes – it might give us the edge when it comes to getting off the next salvo.”

  “Have you transmitted our findings to base?” asked Grisham. There was no chance of backup arriving in time to decide the outcome of this engagement, but the Human Federation needed to know about the Terylium and the Anurium. Assuming the Kijol had also detected the presence of those minerals, Tambus would soon become a flashpoint.

  “Yes, sir,” said Bishop. “A couple of days and the comms hub on Kanis will hear about our discovery.”

  “Sir, I recommend we withdraw,” said Deneuve. “Leave it to someone in high command to decide what to do about Tambus.”

  Grisham was in absolute agreement. The trouble was, he knew the enemy ship was out there, and as soon as the Castigate poked its head over the surface, the Apiar missiles would come raining down.

  The Kijol were not timid opponents and the opposing warship slid into sight, fifty kilometres above the surface.

  “Deploying scramblers,” said Deneuve. “Topside missile cluster: launched.”

  Six hatches on the Castigate’s topside opened and cannisters were ejected into the air. Immediately, each scrambler transmitted a thousand kinds of data, designed to mimic the hull readings from a fleet warship, to confuse the guidance systems of the enemy warheads.

  Ghost missiles followed the scramblers, just as Lopez announced what Grisham had been waiting for.

  “Enemy missile launch detected.”

  The Castigate’s two topside Gatlers opened up at once, directing torrents of high-velocity projectiles at the incoming warheads. Bright tracers cut through the air and Deneuve ejected another six scramblers.

  The Kijol Dasor turrets fired in return. Eight or ten tracer lines stabbed down from above, smashing the Ghosts into glittering pieces. Hundreds of Dasor slugs thundered into the floor of the chasm, throwing up spiteful fountains of shards far beneath the Castigate.

  The moment he heard the missile launch announcement, Grisham threw the Castigate towards the side wall of the fissure. He sensed, rather than saw, movement on the sensors, and then a wall of fire erupted on the surface above. The enemy missiles had been unable to compensate for the Castigate’s change in position and they’d detonated on the stony ground.

  Almost at once, the destroyer emerged into sight, high overhead, and Grisham knew his luck would soon run out.

  “Launch both of our nukes, Commander,” he snarled. “Proximity detonation.”

  “You’ll have to enter your command codes to enable the launch, sir.”

  “I’m doing it,” said Grisham, tapping digits into his console.

  Having one hand off the controls made it tough to pilot the warship along the chasm but Grisham managed it without his warship striking the walls. Meanwhile, the enemy ship’s Dasor slugs punched into the Castigate’s topside armour. The projectiles weren’t a direct threat, but they might well destroy the next wave of Ghost missiles as they exited their launch tubes.

  “Codes entered,” said Grisham.

  “Activating the—” Deneuve cursed. “The nukes are still not available for launch.”

  “The command codes were accepted!” said Grisham.

  “Yes, sir, but I’m still locked out.”

  Grisham had no idea what the hell was going on. As commanding officer on the Castigate, his codes should override any security systems. And yet, those codes had failed.

  “The enemy vessel’s reload timer is almost up, sir,” said Lopez. “We’re going to have another bunch of warheads coming our way at any moment.”

  “Deploying scramblers,” said Deneuve.

  Ahead, the chasm narrowed and curved northward. The Kijol destroyer was directly above, its portside armour still burning from the earlier Ghost strikes, and Grisham knew he had no hope of evading its missiles for a second time. He cursed that he was trapped here in the canyon. Given the conditions on the planet, the Castigate wouldn’t need much more than ten seconds out of the enemy sensor sight in order to escape into the storm.

  Those ten seconds may as well have been a lifetime. Without something game changing like a hundred-megaton nuclear detonation in the next few seconds to incinerate the enemy vessel or send it running, the Castigate was finished.

  An idea rolled in on the rising tide of Grisham’s fury. Deneuve had her own set of override codes - they just weren’t active until she was formally in command of the spaceship. Darting out a hand, Grisham tapped in his codes again, this time handing over control to Deneuve.

  “Try your own codes, Commander,” said Grisham urgently.

  “Codes entered…and accepted,” said Deneuve. “I’m no longer locked out of the nuke launch panel.”

  “Target and fire,” said Grisham through gritted teeth.

  Suddenly, every one of the sensor feeds turned a stark, near-white orange and the bridge space was bathed in this harsh illumination. When he narrowed his eyes against the glare, Grisham could see the roiling of flames outside.

  “Incendiary!” he said in realisation.

  Every one of the hull temperature monitors was triggered simultaneously, producing rows of red lights on Grisham’s status panel. With nothing meaningful on the sensor feeds to guide him, memory of what lay ahead was his only guide. The Castigate was travelling fast and the canyon wasn’t anything like straight.

  Grisham felt the warship glance off one of the side walls and he resisted the urge to haul the controls to starboard, in case he overcorrected and caused the Castigate to strike the opposite wall with potentially much greater force.

  “What the hell are they using incendiaries for?” asked Deneuve.

  “Ready on the nukes, Commander,” said Grisham. He didn’t have time to speculate on the enemy behaviour.

  “Yes, sir. I have a green light on launch tubes 1 and 2,” said Deneuve.

  The incendiary flames began to dwindle and Grisham saw dark edges and shapes within the fire. He hauled on the controls and requested maximum from the propulsion. With a booming echo from the chasm walls, the Castigate climbed strongly. Almost at once, the feeds darkened and the wind-blown sand swept across the spaceship’s burning hull.

  Grisham’s eyes went to the rear feeds, where several thousand metres below, the chasm was an orange snake which cut across the Tambus landscape. Glimmering embers of molten alloy from the Castigate’s incendiary-scoured hull scattered in the vessel’s wake, creating a rain of many hues, which faded quickly to darkness.

  “Enemy warship located,” said Lopez. “They’ve climbed to a hundred klicks.”

  For a split-second, Grisham thought he was looking at a different warship to the one he’d engaged not long before. Then, he realised its pilot was rolling the vessel around its longitudinal axis. The only reason Grisham could imagine for this behaviour was if the Castigate’s initial Ghost strike had crippled some of the enemy weapons control systems and the Kijol commanding officer was attempting to bring some of its operational launch clusters onto target.

  “Launch the damn nukes,” said Grisham. “And give them the cover they need.”

  “Scramblers deployed. Portside, starboard and topside Ghost clusters: launched. Nukes one and two: launched,” said Deneuve.

  Ghost missiles sped from their flank launchers and curved sharply towards the Kijol destroyer, while the nuclear warheads climbed steadily into the sky. Grisham held tightly to the controls and pinned his hope for survival on this oldest of destructive tech.

  Chapter Two

  Dasor turrets tracked and destroyed the incoming warheads with a pulverising cascade of alloy slugs. Grisham’s eye went to the tactical, where the green dots of his warship’s missiles were steadily disappearing beneath the onslaught of the enemy vessel’s countermeasures. The two nukes had so far survived, and they flew on a diagonal, passing a seventy-five-kilometre altitude.

  Then, the unexpected happened. Every one of the Ghost missiles shut down, their onboard control systems going offline and their propulsions cutting out. The nuclear missiles were affected too, and their rate of climb slowed at once.

  The Castigate didn’t entirely avoid the effects of this unexpected event. On Grisham’s console, the readings indicated that several of the warship’s minor subsystems were currently unavailable, and one of the primary control systems rebooted. The backup controller kicked in at once, leaving the Castigate responding normally.

  “That was a disruptor, sir,” said Lieutenant Adler. “First time I’ve seen one fitted to a Kijol destroyer.”

  Grisham wasn’t feeling blessed to have made this discovery. The enemy vessel had shut down the Castigate’s missiles and would - in moments - respond with a salvo of its own.

  Unless…

  The nuclear missiles were a mishmash of old and new tech. Not only were the warheads fitted with advanced control systems, they also had much older power cell technology fitted, that was specifically designed to make the warheads harder to disable with energy pulse attacks like the Kijol disruptor.

  “Commander Deneuve, link to those missiles and send a command through their backup receivers to detonate the warheads.”

  Deneuve reached a hand towards her control panel. She was too late.

  “Enemy missiles launched,” said Lopez.

  Having rolled about its longitudinal axis, the Kijol destroyer had brought its topside clusters to bear on the Castigate. A wave of Apiar missiles – far fewer than Grisham expected – raced across the intervening space between the two vessels.

  “Detonation command sent,” said Deneuve, her voice tight with stress. “Scramblers deployed.”

  The Gatler turrets hurled their projectiles at the oncoming missiles. A flash of pure, terrible white on the starboard feeds told of the nuclear warheads’ detonation. Everything seemed to dim for a moment and then the EMP swept over the Castigate, causing electronic needles to jump crazily, even though the warship’s internal systems were heavily shielded. A shockwave rippled the air, producing a visible distortion through the dust and increasing the strength of the winds to a new intensity.

  Holding the controls at the extremes of their travel, Grisham wondered what the coming seconds would bring. The detonation fireball was expanding at tremendous speed and the Kijol destroyer was already accelerating away from the blast, its course divergent with that of the Castigate.

  Two Apiar missiles struck the Castigate on its topside armour and were closely followed by a third. The blasts tore huge holes into the warship’s armour, splaying the plating and ripping pieces of it free.

  Ignoring the damage reports, Grisham banked the warship hard onto a course he hoped would bring it parallel to the extreme edges of the nuclear blast. The heat warnings which followed the incendiary strike hadn’t gone away, and the associated readings continued to climb. Outside, the light was undiminished, and Grisham thought he may as well be piloting his spaceship across the surface of a star, or through the furnaces of hell.

  As the Castigate gained velocity, its nose section accumulated yet more heat and it was soon glowing orange, while thick, greasy smoke created a trail which vanished into the enveloping storm.

  “Where’s that destroyer?” asked Grisham.

  The enemy vessel had dropped off the tactical and become lost in the storm. To portside, the explosion created by the nuclear warhead had stopped growing and already possessed a grey quality, as though the planet was determined to suppress this challenge to its own might.

  “No sign of it, sir,” said Lopez.

  “And I need a damage report, Lieutenant Adler.”

  “Our hull is a mess, sir, but the armour has done its job,” said Adler. “I don’t reckon we’re in much of a state for Round 2.”

  “That’s not my intention, Lieutenant.”

  Grisham banked again, hoping to keep the movements of his warship as difficult to predict as possible. The chasm was no longer visible on the feeds and, from the Castigate’s current forty-kilometre altitude, the ground appeared flat and smooth.

  “Did we make it?” asked Kinsey.

  Unwilling to commit to an answer, Grisham kept his mouth shut. The surface was passing by in a blur and the nose temperature was pushing three thousand Centigrade. At any other time, he’d have been concerned that the heat, light and smoke would have betrayed the presence of his warship. Here on Tambus, Grisham knew he’d been granted an opportunity to escape and that meant taking risks.

  “Still no sign of the enemy destroyer,” said Lopez.

  “What’s the plan, sir?” asked Deneuve. “I’d suggest we complete a half circuit of the planet and then lay low until the Charos drive can take us into lightspeed.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Commander,” said Grisham.

  Nine thousand kilometres from the scene of the engagement, he pulled back on the controls until the Castigate was travelling at a low velocity. This area of the planet’s surface had been shattered by an impact at some point in the distant past, leaving a huge, shallow bowl with raised edges. Within the bowl, the dust swirled.

  “Lieutenant Adler, ready the Charos drive for lightspeed,” said Grisham. “We’re going to Loxor – I’ll request a patch-up at the Fremont base.”

  “Yes, sir. Loxor it is.” Adler grunted. “The Castigate’s going to need more than spit and polish after this.”

  Activation of the lightspeed drive required a warship to be in motion, albeit at no more than a crawl. Apparently, it was something to do with positional calibration, though Grisham had never pursued an understanding of the precise technical details. He held the Castigate at a minimum velocity and watched for the appearance of the lightspeed timer on his console.

  00:08:00

  “High command will be interested to know the Kijol are building their newest destroyers with disruptor weapons,” said Grisham, talking to distract himself from the timer.

  “That enemy vessel definitely had an improved propulsion as well, sir,” said Adler. “I haven’t crunched the numbers, but I’d guess it had an extra forty percent on its acceleration and that probably translates to another forty percent on its maximum velocity.” He cursed. “I don’t know what those alien bastards have done to extract so much extra performance from a Charos drive.”

  “That Aeon destroyer is real bad news for our own fleet destroyers, sir,” said Deneuve.

  “And for some of our older cruisers as well, Commander,” said Grisham, watching the feeds with growing anxiety. If he and his crew made it out of here alive, it was looking extremely like they’d have pulled off the luckiest of escapes.

  “I’ve transmitted everything we know about that destroyer to base, sir,” said Lopez. “Even if the enemy warship turns up to ruin our day, the intel won’t be lost.”

  “Six minutes!” said Adler.

  For the next five minutes, only the storm and the dirty yellow of the rocky surface were visible. Then, as Adler gave his sixty-second announcement for the Charos drive, Lieutenant Lopez spotted what she thought was an object, high above and to the east.

  “The object was moving at a low velocity, sir,” she said. “Now it’s lost in all this sand.”

  “Is it the destroyer?” asked Grisham sharply. He laughed bitterly. “What the hell else is it going to be?”