Imperial Sunset (Ashes of Empire Book 1) by Eric Thomson

Author:Eric Thomson [Thomson, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sanddiver Books
Published: 2018-06-27T05:00:00+00:00

— 32 —

“CIC to the captain.”

Morane, half-dressed and sprawled out on the bed in his private quarters rolled to one side. He blinked several times, shaking off the strange dream that haunted his twilight state.

“Morane.”

“Creswell, sir. Sensors picked up hyperspace traces headed in this direction. If they’re aimed at Wormhole Parth Two, I estimate emergence will occur within thirty minutes.”

“What is Tanith’s status?”

“She’s almost done shedding reverse momentum. Narwhal is standing by, but estimates put them at least forty-five minutes apart.”

Vanquish’s commanding officer bit back choice words. Instead, he said, “All ships will go to battle stations, but Vanquish, Myrtale, and Dawn Trader are to remain under silent running. Inform Tanith of the reduced timeline and ask if she can finish decelerating sooner and still stay within acceptable risk limits. At this point, it doesn’t matter if she incurs structural stress by pushing the inertial dampeners into the red, provided she keeps hull integrity.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“I’m on my way. Morane, out.”

He sprang to his feet and pulled on the battledress tunic that lay crumpled on a nearby chair as the battle stations siren echoed throughout the fast attack cruiser.

“Ask me for anything but time,” Morane intoned. Then he paused, head tilted to one side and muttered. “Who said that again?”

No doubt DeCarde could dig the answer out of her vast historical repository. He made his way to the CIC with long strides, a confident expression pasted on his craggy features as he greeted crew members hurrying to their stations. The moment he entered, Creswell rose from the command chair and stepped aside.

“Peg Vietti says she is, and I quote, already flirting with the fine art of turning humans into jam. It will take the time it takes.”

Morane sat and scowled at the tactical projection, now showing the hyperspace traces in pale red.

“I was hoping to make my way across to Wormhole Four unseen, but if those ships emerge nearby before we can go FTL, they can’t fail to spot us and realize we’re taking Tanith. Should they be the same people who destroyed the 12th and freed Grand Duke Custis, I don’t doubt they’ll come about and try to cut us off from our escape route. Or chase us through the wormhole network. And with Narwhal hauling twice her mass, we won’t be able to push past the in-system FTL limits and gain an edge over a strike force that’ll probably be long on heavy cruisers, if the remains of the 12th Battle Group are any indication.”

“We could always recover our boarding party and bugger off without Tanith,” Mikkel, present once more via hologram from her normal station on the bridge, suggested in an arch tone. When she saw her jest fall flat, Mikkel shrugged. “Or not.”

Morane ran a hand across his chin, lost in thought. Then an air of determination replaced his earlier scowl. “I doubt they’ll chase us through Wormhole Parth Five.”

“I’m not sure I like the way you said that, Skipper.”

A wicked grin briefly creased Morane’s face. “Look it up in the catalog, Iona.

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