Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  I suppressed a frown. I remembered there being more warships listed in my last status report. I made a mental note to check on that later.

  The latest numbers compiled by my staff still brought the total number of warships in this star system up to just under four hundred fifty warships strong, forty one of them full-fledged battleships. Of course very few of those battleships could compare to the Caprian dreadnaught class I thought with pride but… All of that was beside the point!

  If I couldn’t handle a bug Swarm, any Swarm, with forty-one battleships and a fleet this size, I might as well cut my throat now and save the humiliation of putting someone else in command of the fleet.

  Of course, if I was defeated, I wasn’t going to actually kill myself but… you got the picture.

  Putting aside those foolish thoughts, I focused on a cool calm rational assessment of the battle to come and came right back to the same thing that had bothered me the moment I opened my data-slate.

  “Commander Steiner!” I said.

  “Aye-aye, Sir! I mean what do you need, Admiral, my King?” she asked.

  I glowered at her.

  “Admiral, my King?” I demanded.

  She shrugged, sending my irritation surging even higher. At least pick one!

  “Did you need something, Sir,” my Chief of Staff asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

  “Late night, Commander?” I asked pointedly.

  She nodded.

  “When the Fleet Commander says his staff needs to be ready to issue the orders the next morning, it’s my job to stay up as long as it takes to make it happen smoothly and without a hitch,” she said.

  Well I couldn’t argue with that.

  “Right. Well since you were up all night, there’s one thing I’d like to know,” I said.

  “What’s that, Sir?” she asked, her brows wrinkling, trying to guess my intention.

  “Why is it, yesterday I went to sleep with over five hundred warships, yet today when I wake up there are only four hundred fifty? Did perchance a few of the fainthearted leave this star system despite my specific order to the contrary?” I asked in a deceptively calm voice.

  “No, Sire,” she said simply.

  A vein throbbed on my forehead.

  She must have seen this because she was quick to add.

  “Unfortunately, Sir, a review of the Sector Fleet’s warship list revealed a few… discrepancies,” Commander Steiner said with a severe frown.

  “What she means is he’d been padding the books and we got a hit on one of his sector cruisers with a name and vessel registration number that exactly matched a known merchant cruiser,” my scar-faced Intelligence Officer interjected eagerly, “when we contacted that ship directly, she turned out to be the same ship.”

  Lisa Steiner nodded seriously.

  “They were deliberately hiding their status to, I assume, puff up their records,” she said.

  “That’s why last night I initiated a full review of each ship in the Sector Guard and then expanded it to the entire Capital Defense Fleet; so far, we have discovered thirty-eight merchant cruisers listed as regular ships of the line. Those were the ships removed from your warships’ rolls which is why the report you saw appears… truncated, Sire,” said Lisa Steiner, searching for the right word.

  “Good work, Steiner,” I said coldly. I wasn’t upset with the Commander because my Chief of Staff had done excellent work.

  No. The people I was irritated with were the Sector Governor and his sector admirals. These were the men and women who had deliberately falsified fleet records. Probably to help calm the public in the face of a massive bug Swarm, although that might be entirely too charitable an expression; it was far more likely they had hidden the true numbers of their fleets to avoid any tough questions regarding just how far they’d drawn down their defenses in the two years since their return to the welcoming arms of the rest of galactic civilization. They probably pocketed as much of the military appropriations as they could, as well.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Sire,” she said.

  “Not your fault, Commander. In fact, it’s better I know this now rather than during the middle of battle when the ‘cruisers’ I send into battle suddenly decide they’re really merchant ships and blow up like the armed freighters they actually are,” I said.

  “They’re not all converted freighters but your point is well made, Sire,” said Steiner.

  “Then issue the order. The fleet moves out,” I said.

  “Aye-aye, Admiral,” said Lisa Steiner, quickly echoed by my helm/navigation team.

  Over the next several minutes, a series of movements rippled through the various warships stationed throughout the star system as my orders were disseminated to every ship in the various fleets.

  To my surprise, no one threw a hissy fit upon receiving my orders or threatened to withdraw from the fleet.

  Perhaps the reality of their situation had sunk in? The truth was their combined size of 183 warships faced an uphill battle with only nine battleships to their name and would be in some serious trouble if I decided to take my 265 warships with me and go home.

  Over the three hours, the core of the Capital Defense Fleet, minus the wolf-packs out screening our advance, gathered together into one unified fleet.

  Then it advanced.

  With slow ponderous might, four hundred and forty-eight warships, minus the scout screen and the wolf-packs still hunting for stealth bugs, moved to face the first wave of some 986 bugs. That was the current count anyway, it tended to fluctuate as bugs continually detached from the main force and moved ahead, sometimes ran into asteroids and others returned bearing bug-swelling biomass and more bugs were birthed in turn from their bloated bellies of their Mothership.

  As we advanced, I broke my force up into three different groups: first, a series of a half a dozen small coin-shaped formations based around the System Defense Force, local Sector Guard, Confederation Flotilla, and the loaner warships sent by nearby star systems to help defend the Sector Capital; and second, a screening force made up of my own light warships; and finally, a large and powerful Wall of Battle based around my thirty-two battleships and the most powerful heavy cruisers in the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet.

  The battleships would take turns being the hammer that smashed its way through the heart of the first bug wave to hit this star system and the anvil that crushed all resistance upon it.

  As we came on close approach, I spread out my destroyer screen and positioned the coin formations around and behind my Wall of Battle for support. Anything my battleships missed or failed to kill outright, the locals would get to sweep up.

  As we approached, the relatively myopic bugs continued to ignore us until we were practically on top of them. At a mere fifteen minutes away from contact, the bugs began to respond to our presence.

  Like a kicked-over ant hill, one could see the moment they noticed an invader. Like a wave, every ship that saw us began to maneuver rapidly and the Swarm as a whole started to contract.

  Unfortunately for them, it was too little too late. My fleet was pointed directly at the center of the Swarm and the Mothership nestled in the middle of it.

  “Get me Rear Admiral Druid,” I instructed.

  “Druid here and awaiting orders, King Jason,” he said as soon as he was connected to my console.

  I pursed my lips.

  “Rear Admiral Druid, are you ready to take your battleships into the center of those bugs and back out the other side?” I asked.

  “The Wall is ready to carry out your orders, my King,” Druid said confidently.

  I nodded seriously at this double form of verbal support. Druid was from Sector 25, true, but he wasn’t a native-born Caprian or one of the original Tractoan Colonists. He was a transplant from the original 25th Sector Guard who left that organization and joined the MSP out of disgust when it became clear the Patrol Fleet was out there doing the job the Guard said they were
there for and which he joined up to perform—namely, to protect the people.

  “Then take aim at that Mothership and rake her on the fly-by,” my mouth quirked, “assuming there’s anything left of her by the time you reach her,” I said.

  “Aiming to take the kill for yourself, Sir?” he asked with grim amusement.

  “The Lucky Clover may be slower than she used to be, but she packs a punch like no other ship alive,” I said confidently.

  “She’s in a class all her own, Sir,” he agreed.

  “Just stay out of our line of fire and we’ll give the Bug Queen that runs this wave what for, Rear Admiral,” I said confidently.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Although I do believe it will be my Wall that lands the finishing blow and not your Clover, Sir. If I may be so bold,” he said.

  I threw my head back and laughed.

  “We’ll see about that,” I said.

  “See you on the other side, King Jason,” said Druid with the faintest hint of a smile.

  “Not if I see you first,” I said.

  Druid nodded seriously and shut the channel.

  Over the next several minutes, I issued orders adjusting the position of the coin formation lagging behind the Wall of Battle.

  The lonely icon of the Lucky Clover 2.0 steadily fell behind as the main force of battleships and heavy cruisers slammed into the first wave of bug scouts and marauders.

  “Admiral Druid hit them hard and fast, driving right into the center of their formation,” remarked Tactical with real pleasure as the pride of the MSP turned sideways, pulverizing everything in range before turning and burning straight toward the Mothership.

  “I see someone’s eager to claim the kill, Weapons,” I remarked to a suddenly eager bridge. I could practically feel it as the carefully-selected command team on the Lucky Clover’s bridge tensed with eagerness and the noise level audibly dropped.

  “We’re entering firing range and I have a target lock on the top bug, King Jason,” suggested the Weaponeer.

  “Then pick your moment and send the Mothership to kingdom come, Weapons,” I said.

  “Right away, Sire!” the weaponeer said happily.

  Half a minute later, the Lucky Clover thrummed.

  “Preparing to fire,” warned the Weaponeer. The firing port on the front of the super-battleship retracted.

  “Fire when ready,” I said.

  Weapons nodded sharply and pulled the trigger.

  As the Clover rocked backward, a fiery meteor streaked out of the super-battleship. Moments later, it bypassed Druid’s battleships and slammed into a heavy harvester that got between the Clover and the Mothership.

  There was an audible groan as a streak of fire shot out the side of the heavy harvester; it erupted with a series of secondary explosions that shattered the bug ship to pieces.

  “Sorry, Sir,” the Weaponeer looked stricken.

  “Not a problem, Weapons,” I said with a smile to take the sting out of it, “I’m sure we’ll get them on the next shot.”

  Weapons straightened.

  “Of course, Sire,” he said hunching back over his console eagerly.

  The next five minutes seemed to move like molasses out of an upside-down jar. Slow and sluggishly.

  As we watched Rear Admiral Druid and the Wall continued to pile on the speed rushing to reach the Mothership before the Clover could fire again.

  At the same time, more than fifty bugs to either side of the Wall tried to put themselves between the Mothership and Druid’s formation.

  Rockets and lasers flew toward the Wall and in response Druid’s ships opened fire to either side. As fire and forget bombs and light and medium bug lasers struck the Wall and slid off or were absorbed by their shields our battleships and heavy cruiser smashed seventy three bug ships in to flaming wreckage.

  While the shattered survivors ignited their thrusters and attempted to save their Queen, Druid’s Wall reached the harvesters surrounding the Mothership.

  In response to the arrival of the battleships, one by one the bugs belched fire-and-forget missiles in every direction as human warships entered their firing range.

  They put so many missiles and bombs into the battlespace, that as many bombs started hitting their own forces as they did the battleships.

  Then the Mothership and her heavy harvesters opened fire with their lasers. More than two hundred lasers struck the lead battleship in Druid’s formation within a span of three seconds.

  The lead battleship in the Wall fell out of formation, spewing atmosphere and plasma from ruptured conduits.

  “The HPC is recharged and ready to fire. I have a target lock,” reported Weapons.

  “FIRE!” I ordered in a voice like thunder.

  My voice hadn’t finished echoing through the bridge and the super-battleship rocked backward as a second plasma round streaked out toward the Mothership.

  I didn’t realize I was holding my breath along with everyone else until the superheated ball of molten metal and plasma struck its target.

  “YEAH!” a cheer rocked through the bridge as the image of the oversized Mothership began to flash.

  Sensor technicians worked their consoles and Tactical Officers checked and rechecked their boards and then the screen cleared.

  The Mothership was still there.

  I closed my eyes.

  “The Mothership has stopped firing,” Tactical reported.

  My eyes flashed open to see the Wall split in two halves and open fire. Each wing of the wall spewed flames as they shot past the Mothership. A continuous barrage of individual heavy lasers struck the main force of bugs, while a full broadside slammed into the Mothership one at a time, each battleship and heavy cruiser unloading into the Mothership and her heavy harvester escorts.

  Almost unnoticed, a second and then a third ship fell out of formation before regaining momentum and burning at half power to try and catch back up with the main formation. Both heavy cruisers were leaking atmosphere but compared to the three damaged warships on our side, the bugs had taken devastating losses.

  Nearly two hundred scouts and marauders had been annihilated and a dozen harvesters completely destroyed. A half dozen additional harvesters were fighting for their lives and by the time the twentieth battleship and heavy cruiser slammed a full broadside into her, the Mothership had taken all she could.

  As we watched, a series of internal explosions rocked the Mothership, leaving her holed in a dozen places and floating lifeless in cold space.

  That didn’t stop the remaining fifty ships of the Wall from piling on with one broadside after another.

  Shortly after the last broadside landed, the bugs went wild shooting everything around them including each other. Worse, as the Wall forced its way out the other side of the bug formation and were dealing with the last fifty or so scouts and marauders, their shields started to flare.

  Boarding bugs and boring beetles splattered all over the forward prows of the three lead battleships.

  “I’m receiving a priority transmission from Rear Admiral Druid,” reported the Com-Officer.

  “Put him through,” I said.

  “Sir. I’m asking permission to adjust our course. My battleships are starting to encounter more and more boarding bugs. If we follow orders and proceed directly to the other side of the bug formation, we’ll be in too deep to avoid damage,” he said.

  “Permission granted,” I said glancing at the plot, “adjust your course sunward six degrees and get out of there; you can go more if you need to. I’m not trying to fight your ships for you. Proceed at your own discretion, Rear Admiral. If I need you I’ll call.”

  “If you need us, we’ll be there,” vowed Druid and then cut the channel.

  The Wall adjusted course, burning fuel on emergency thrust to skirt the edge of the space-borne boarding bugs. The increase in speed helped in some ways and hurt in others, splattering bugs on shields and for
ward hull rather than allow them to safely board the hulls of the Wall in numbers, but at the same time each strike reduced the shields.

  Those bugs not directly in the path of our battleships and heavy cruisers turned angry reds, purples and greens as they ignited the bio-fuel in their abdomens, struggling to match course and speed with our warships.

  “The heavy cruisers are starting to lose shield strength, Sir,” reported Sensors.

  “Rear Admiral Druid is pulling them back behind the battleships and consolidating the Wall into two unequal-sized walls in space one stacked right behind the other. Mind your sensors, Sensors and leave battle analysis to the Tactical Department,” the Tactical Officer said curtly.

  “I just report what my people see, Senior Lieutenant,” the Sensor Officer said blandly.

  “Enough,” said the First Officer, cutting their little back and forth short.

  I nodded.

  As I watched the Wall cut through the edge of boarding bug territory and through deft maneuvers and shield management, backed up by a continuous barrage of point defense fire, Druid managed to get his ships out the other side of the bug formation without any apparent losses.

  I couldn’t be sure there were no losses because once a boarding bug got on the hull, the small host of smaller bugs it had been carrying was then free to cut its way inside, after which it was a different ballgame. But looking at things from here, I didn’t think they got enough bugs in through to the hulls of his ships to be a serious threat.

  Just to be sure, I decided to issue a few orders myself.

  In response, the destroyers and light cruiser wings began to swing wide while a handful of medium cruisers gathered and then fell back, taking up position around the Clover.