The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

—

Hard aport!” Max yelled. “Full power astern!”

The Achilles had fired its railgun two seconds ago. Now that the Oregon was only twelve miles away, it would take the shell just six seconds to hit.

He counted down in his head as the ship slewed around. Four seconds later, the Oregon was rocked by a sonic boom that blew out the windows on the bridge as the projectile buzzed past them. Like he had with the Narwhal, the captain of the distant yacht had targeted the superstructure to take out all the controls and crew simultaneously.

Max had bet on the tactic. The main disadvantage of the railgun was that its round was a dumb weapon. It was essentially a cannon shell and couldn’t adjust course in flight, unlike a guided missile. The unique agility and speed of the Oregon was the only thing that kept it from being struck.

But Max knew Golov wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d aim for the hull next time. The Gatling guns and Metal Storm array were useless against such a high-velocity weapon.

“Eric, full speed ahead. Random evasive maneuvers.”

The Oregon’s hull was armor-plated, but it couldn’t repel rounds of that energy. If one of them pierced an ammo magazine, the entire ship would go up in a blast that would break it in two. And if it hit the engine room, they’d be dead in the water.

“Another shot!” Linda shouted.

“All back! Hard astarboard!”

Eric masterfully swung the ship again.

Max counted.

This time, they weren’t so lucky. Although the round missed the hull, it sliced right through the amidships crane, one of the two that were operational. The base blew apart and the steel rigging fell onto the deck, leaving a gash in the steel, before tumbling over the side.

Max looked at Hali, huddling with Murph. They had Juan on the line. Max had heard him demanding the disarming code from the Russian admiral, the same kind of code Murph himself had removed from the Oregon’s software.

“Tell me Juan’s got some magic trick up his sleeve,” Max said.

“Working on it” was all Murph would say.

“Shot’s away!” Linda called out.

“Full speed ahead!”

Max braced himself as the Oregon lurched forward.

Six seconds later, the ship was jolted by an explosion that nearly threw Max out of his chair.

“Damage report!”

Linda checked the closed-circuit cameras. “Looks like they got us in the forward hold. It’s above the waterline, so we don’t have flooding, but the missile battery is off-line.”

“Permanently?”

“Can’t say yet.”

“We can’t take much more pounding like this,” Max said. “Murph, give me some good news.”

“The admiral spilled his guts,” Hali said as Murph furiously tapped at his keyboard. “He’s broadcasting the disarming signal now.”

Max held his breath to see if it worked. He knew ShadowFoe’s reputation as a programmer, so it was possible she had removed the disarming code.

They’d know soon enough. Because the next round from the Achilles would be the kill shot.

THIRTY-FOUR

Golov had to admit it. He was impressed. He thought the intriguing warship disguised as a rusty old cargo vessel would go down with two shots, but her commander was doing a fine job dodging the Achilles’s automated targeting system. In the end, though, his efforts would be useless. The ships were getting close enough to each other that evasion would soon be impossible. The