Serengeti by J.B. Rockwell

other Valkyries moved to the outside of the wedge, spacing themselves widely so they could guard the armada’s edges and still bring all their guns to bear. Six Valkyries. Just six to watch over this armada, and twenty Dreadnought bruisers to guard Brutus himself. Not something to sneeze at normally, but deep down, Serengeti wondered if it was enough.
    Have to be . Cerberus himself has spoken. And in his AI wisdom, deemed six and twenty to be ‘sufficient’ for dealing with the DSR rabble that attacked Tissolo. Hope he’s right, Serengeti thought.
    She fired her maneuvering jets and assumed her assigned position on the starboard side of the fleet. Marianas and Atacama followed suit, maneuvering around the smaller ships so they could slot in behind her, while Antigone cruised over to the port side with Seychelles and Sechura in tow. And when it was all done—when the last ship was finally in place—the Meridian Alliance turned their eyes forward and waited for the DSR ships to come into range.
    “God I hate this part.” Henricksen stared at the bridge windows, lips twisting sourly as he studied the schematic showing the Meridian Alliance ships and the approaching DSR fleet. “So, this is his grand plan? We punch through the middle of their blockade and then circle around and hunt the remaining ships down?”
    “The theory is sound.” Serengeti hated that answer but it was the best she could offer.
    “Theory,” Henricksen snarled, hands slamming hard against the panel in front of him. “The theory is crap! Stupid, arrogant, son-of-a-bitch. He knows there’s more to this than meets the eye but he just won’t back down. Bastard shouldn’t even be here. Fleet shouldn’t be here. Smartest thing we could do is retreat and regroup. Come at them another time.”
    Serengeti thought a minute, recognizing the sense in what Henricksen said. She relayed a message to Brutus, urging caution, asking the Bastion to rethink this whole matter and consider pulling the fleet back.
    Silence from Brutus . Nothing at all in response.
    A surreptitious communication to the other Valkyries then. A quick back and forth between the half dozen ships, all of whom advised the same caution.
    But Brutus wasn’t listening—not to any of them—and Serengeti was pretty sure she knew why. AIs had their pride, after all, and Brutus’ pride was hurting. After weeks of chasing the DSR, he finally had them in sight—had them outnumbered and outgunned to boot—and nothing she or the other Valkyries said was going to convince him to back down.
    Mutiny was out of the question—Henricksen would never ask it of her and Serengeti would never turn on her own. Besides, she couldn’t abandon the fleet. Not to save herself.
    “If he’d held position like he was supposed to, none of us would be in this mess,” Henricksen growled.
    “And yet, here we are,” Serengeti said simply.
    “Yeah. Here we are.” Henricksen glared a moment longer, watching the dark voids outside suck inward and then spit dull-skinned vessels out. “Sikuuku,” he called, turning toward the Artillery station. “I want all batteries online. Target the closest breach and take out whatever comes through.”
    “And Osage ?” Sikuuku asked.
    Henricksen glanced out the windows, then to Number Two’s feed. The probe was stuck inside Osage’s damaged hull—dragged along as the wrecked ship advanced—but it was far out. Still a good nine hundred kilometers from Serengeti’s location and moving slow as a turtle. The DSR ships were closer—a hell of a lot closer—and a much more immediate problem. Henricksen grimaced, eyes flicking to the forward camera and then back to Sikuuku. “Forget her for now. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
    “Roger!” Sikuuku opened a channel to the artillery stations and relayed the captain’s orders to the other batteries.
    Henricksen stared at the schematic on the front windows, watching the jump breaches form, throwing worried glances at