Haven Ascendant

by Robert M Kerns

  “We’re down to about twenty minutes, Cap,” the senior comms officer for the ship answered.

  Cole wanted to scowl. Twenty minutes of transmission lag was no way to hold a conversation.

  “Very well,” Cole replied. “Send a message to the SDF and system leadership that the Coalition fleet has arrived. Haskell, if you please, relay the ship types and numbers to Jenkins for inclusion in that message.”

  “Aye, Cap,” both officers said, almost in unison.

  “While we’re waiting on their reply,” Cole said, “put the ship types and numbers up on the tactical plot, please.”

  The hologram appeared in the center of the bridge, centered on the Coalition fleet. The top-right corner, where the shields and armor read-outs normally were, held a list of ship types and the number of each. Cole’s eyes settled on the very first entry.

  “Wow…a dreadnought? I’m impressed. Two battleships. Four cruisers. Eight destroyers, and an obscene amount of frigates. Really? Why would they bring so many frigates?”

  The data blurred just then, and when it settled down, the frigate count was less than half of what it had been, but the type list had a new entry: troop transports.

  “Ah, okay,” Cole said. “That explains it. Those troop transports won’t be well armed, but they still qualify as military targets.”

  “What are you thinking, sir?” Sasha asked.

  Cole leaned back against the command chair and rubbed his jaw. “Well, honestly, I’m thinking we send the frigates and fighters after their frigates and troop transports. We—that is, Haven—will take the battleships and dreadnought.”

  “Spearhead?”

  “No, I don’t think so. That’s my go-to, because our shields and armor are so much better against everything we’ve faced. This time, though, I think we’re going to stand off and pound them awhile with missiles and torpedoes. Once we fire ourselves dry, we’ll move into energy range. Emily’s been wanting to try the bombers in a missile defense role, so this will give her that chance.”

  Sasha grinned. “They won’t be expecting the change in tactics.”

  “Heh…I’ll bet they weren’t expecting us to be here at all,” Cole agreed. He stood and approached the tactical plot. Reaching out, he zoomed out the plot to see more of the area around the fleet. “Huh…they’re still hovering around the jump gate.”

  Cole took a half step back and tapped the tip of his nose with his right index finger as he stared at the plot.

  Sasha walked up to stand beside him, asking, “You have your thinking cap on, sir. May I ask what you’re considering?”

  “Whether we want to force an engagement or not.”

  “How so?” Sasha returned.

  “Well, I can shut down every outgoing jump gate in the system. The thing is, I don’t know if we want to let them run to fight again another day. That’s a good-size fleet. It would have to be a blow to the Coalition—even if just a little one—if we took it out of service.”

  Sasha turned, fully facing Cole as she asked, “Isn’t it best to avoid a fight?”

  “Yeah…in one respect, it is,” Cole answered, “but we’re going to be fighting these people, either way. Shouldn’t we whittle away their ships where we can?”

  “May I have a word, sir?” Sasha asked.

  “Office?”

  Sasha nodded once.

  “Mazzi, you have the conn,” Cole said as he turned toward the port hatch. “Ring if we get work.”

  Cole led Sasha into his office.

  “So,” he began, “what’s on your mind?”

  “If they’re of a mind to turn around and leave, I say we let them,” Sasha said. “I would never get too outspoken on the bridge, you know that, but I just don’t see what having a battle here and now serves…aside from killing people and scrapping ships. Do we really need to rush into that?”

  Cole sighed and nodded. “You’re right, and I honestly agree. Besides, there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t have rebuilt any losses we give them today by the time we get to a formal war. I am not looking forward to that war, Sasha. It’s going to be a mess of epic proportions.”

  “Wars usually are,” Sasha replied.

  “Anything else?”

  Sasha shook her head.

  “Right, then.”

  Cole stood and headed back to the bridge.

  As he walked through the port hatch, Cole asked, “Haskell, how long would it take for light from where we are to reach the Coalition ships?”

  Haskell did some quick calculations and answered, “Not quite eleven hours, Cap.”

  “Have they moved at all yet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Okay,” Cole said. “Launch a quantum comms buoy to take up a position near The Gate, and put a standing order in the log to notify me immediately if they move. I have other things I could be doing.”

  At eighteen-hundred hours that evening, the bridge called Cole. The Coalition fleet was moving.

  Cole entered the bridge and smiled at seeing the tactical plot already up. He walked to it, ignoring the “Captain on the bridge,” and looked at the data. The Coalition ships were forming up for transit through the Dante jump gate.

  “I guess they really did think we wouldn’t be here,” Cole said, as much to himself as anyone else. Cole turned and walked to the command chair, taking the seat. “Comms, hail the system leadership through the comms buoy, please.”

  Moments later, the overhead speakers chirped, and the main viewscreen displayed a group of people arrayed out behind the interim system president.

  “Yes, Mr. Coleson?” the president asked.

  “Well, it seems the invasion has been averted for a time,” Cole reported. “They’re forming up to leave through the Dante gate.”

  Cole saw everyone with the system president visibly relax.

  “Mr. Coleson,” the system president replied, “words cannot express the debt owed to you by the people of Tristan’s Gate. That you would still defend us after how your people were treated…well, I don’t know many people who would do that.”

  Cole grinned. “Mr. President, you publicly and formally apologized for your predecessor’s conduct. Your legal system has arrested, tried, and convicted the people involved for any crimes they committed. As far as I’m concerned, it’s all in the past.”

  The president shared a look among those around him before speaking, “We have been discussing a matter we would like to bring to you, sir. The SDF is inadequate to defend against invasions, and honestly, it was never intended for that. Would you be willing to enter into negotiations for the stationing of a task force, here in Tristan’s Gate?”

  “What are we talking?” Cole asked. “Are you thinking something like the home fleets the Solar Republic members enjoy, or were you thinking a couple frigates and a courier?”

  “We…ah…well, we hadn’t gone that far in our discussions,” the president replied. “We wanted to ask if you were interested in the idea, before we did any major planning or theorizing.”

  Cole nodded. “I can understand that. Honestly, the best thing to do is fire off a message to Paol Thyrray. He and his people handle that sort of thing for me.”

  “Very well,” the president replied. “I can honestly say that we’re very grateful you’re open to discussing it. Thank you again for your defense of the system.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll leave the comms buoy here for the time being. Its power source is good for a few hundred years at least, but I highly recommend that no one tampers with it. In the event that anyone does, the buoy will self-destruct in a rather spectacular manner.”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Coleson,” the system president was quick to counter, “we would never presume to tamper with any of your property.”

  Well, at least some lessons can be learned, Cole thought as he forced his expression to remain bland and said, “All right then. That comms buoy will greatly reduce the time involved in communicating with Paol. Is there anything else, Mr. President?”<
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  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Cole nodded once more. “Very well. Best wishes to you and yours. We’ll be heading out of the system now. Cole out.”

  As soon as the viewscreen deactivated and the speakers chirped, Cole ordered the battlegroup to return to Beta Magellan. They took it slow on their way to the system periphery, just in case the Coalition fleet decided to come back. After loitering for an extra day out at the periphery, the battlegroup engaged their hyperdrives and vanished from Tristan’s Gate.

  The preparations to liberate the five systems increased in tempo until they took on the feeling of running downhill. Cole recalled ten freighters—the nine that carried ‘refugees’ to Gateway from Tristan’s Gate and one more—to Beta Magellan and sent them through the shipyard for temporary conversion to troop transports; it was faster than building the troop transports from scratch. Yes, the emissaries said their people would handle anything on the inhabited worlds, but Cole always liked to be prepared. Besides, every system had at least one station in it, and Cole wasn’t going to leave the Coalition in charge of those stations.

  The recruiting and training effort that had been going on for months was showing quality returns; there were sufficient marine recruits ready for service that Cole—after consulting Harlon—promoted several of Haven’s marines to fill out the leadership cadre throughout all troop ships. One promotion left Harlon close to spitting mad: Cole made him a general and ‘promoted’ him to overall strategic command of all Beta Magellan marines. One-star to start, but as the marines grew both Cole and Harlon knew Harlon was in for more stars on his shoulders. From what Cole could glean from the muttered snarls as Harlon left Cole’s office, the former colonel in command of Haven’s marines never wanted to be a general. For that matter, Lieutenant Colonel Shandra Devereaux—Harlon’s executive officer—seemed a little shocked when Cole dropped ‘full colonel’ and operational command of Haven’s marine contingent on her, too.

  Admiral Trask and his staff seemed to settle in well aboard Haven. He was just as awed by the flag officer’s official quarters as Cole was by the captain’s quarters, and like Cole, he promptly took up residence in the flag-officer’s day-cabin just across the corridor from the port hatch to the flag bridge. With Haven returned from Tristan’s Gate, Admiral Trask included the battle-carrier in the simulation wargames he’d been running the op fleet through in preparation for the simultaneous liberations.

  As their preparations neared completion, Cole sent a courier to Babylon Station in Gateway to retrieve the emissaries. He had decided they could accompany the task forces assigned to their respective systems after chatting with the task force commanders and ensuring the commanders understood the emissaries did not enjoy diplomatic status. When the courier returned, the fleet awaited it on the periphery of Beta Magellan. The courier moved between the task force command ships for the four systems from which they had emissaries: Oriolis, Spark, Eta Anubis, and Iota Anubis.

  Cole made sure Trask understood that he had full operational command and that Cole would command Haven and its battlegroup. He didn’t want Trask feeling weird about giving his ‘boss’ orders during combat.

  Trask and Cole held one last fleet command conference, during which Trask outlined the staggered departure times for everyone to arrive in their target systems on the same day (and hopefully close to the same time). When Trask and Cole finished relaying the information they had to convey, Trask started the operation clock and ordered the first task force to engage its hyperdrives. Within two days, the entire fleet had vanished from Beta Magellan.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epsilon Anubis System

  15 November 3003, 07:15 GST

  Cole leaned back against the command chair and looked at the tactical plot. It was centered on the Coalition forces in the system, and the light from the arrival of Haven’s battlegroup hadn’t yet reached the Coalition fleet or the inhabited world, Epsilon Anubis VI.

  Sasha approached the command chair and stood at Cole’s right elbow. Cole looked up and nodded in greeting, adding a smile as well.

  “Well, there they are,” Cole said. “What do you think?”

  “They outnumber us,” Sasha replied and turned to look at Haskell. “What’s the count up to?”

  “Four battleships, about twenty cruisers, thirty-six destroyers, seventeen frigates, and upwards of fifty corvettes. There’s a little wobble in the numbers yet, because part of the fleet is occluded by the planet, the station, and the asteroid field.”

  “Corvettes? Really?” Cole asked, swiveling the command chair to direct an incredulous expression toward Haskell at Sensors.

  Haskell nodded. “Yes, indeed, Cap. They have between forty and sixty corvettes. Once we get closer, we’ll be able to refine the numbers.”

  “Well, the fighters are good for the corvettes,” Cole said, swiveling back to look at the plot, “and we’re almost on parity with their frigates. Our scout frigates don’t have quite the weaponry the line frigates do, but I’m not worried about them taking on a Coalition frigate. Heh…one of our troop transports could probably take out one of their frigates.”

  “We only have four cruisers in the battlegroup, though,” Sasha countered, “and eight destroyers.”

  Cole took a deep breath and released it as a heavy sigh. “Yeah…we’re going to have to wade in with those…help clear the field a bit. When was our scout’s last update? I don’t remember seeing this force mix in the sensor logs they sent.”

  “Last night or early evening yesterday,” Sasha replied.

  “Huh…if I would’ve known about these ships, I would’ve added a system picket or two to the battlegroup. What are the sensor feeds from the other task forces showing?”

  Sasha grinned. “You’d have to ask Admiral Trask. I don’t have access to them.”

  Cole gave Sasha a mock frown. “Well, they’re here, so we’ll have to deal with them. Might as well get the party started. Mazzi, bring up the battlegroup TacNet, if you please. Wixil, please prepare maneuvering orders for the battlegroup; take us in at one-third-light.”

  Moments later, Mazzi reported, “TacNet online, sir!”

  Not even five seconds after Mazzi, Wixil announced, “Maneuvering plan uploaded to TacNet, Cole!”

  “What’s our time to reach the planet?” Cole asked.

  “A little over twenty-six hours and thirty minutes, Cole,” Wixil replied.

  “How are we passing the asteroid belt?”

  “We’re looping under it,” Wixil answered. “I’ve noticed Humans seem to prefer going over things like asteroid fields.”

  “Fair enough,” Cole said. “Let’s go.”

  Around the halfway mark into the system, Cole walked onto the bridge and asked the spacer at the comms station to record for transmission as he sat in the command chair.

  “You’re live, sir,” the tech announced.

  “Greetings to the people of Epsilon Anubis. I am Bartholomew James Coleson. We are here in response to an appeal from the people of Epsilon Anubis VI, and we will be liberating this system from the abuses of the Coalition. We are currently thirteen hours out from the planet. Any ships that choose to flee will be permitted to do so. All surrenders will be accepted. Take the next six hours and decide whether or not you want to throw away your life for a government that cares nothing for you. Coleson out.”

  “Ready to transmit, sir,” the comms tech said about forty seconds later.

  Cole nodded. “Send it…no encryption across all channels and frequencies.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Cole stood and looked to the officer of the watch, saying, “The bridge is yours.”

  Not quite four-and-a-half hours later, Cole’s message reached the Coalition fleet…and the planet. All across Epsilon Anubis VI, the people erupted in cheers and began preparing to throw the Coalition off their world. A group of Coalition frigates tried to flee, and their own battleships promptly opened fire, wiping the frigates out of existence. F
aced with that kind of fate, the remaining ships followed orders when the flag officer ordered the fleet out to meet Haven’s battlegroup.

  At just a little over ninety minutes to contact, Cole examined the tactical plot as he finalized his opening formations in his mind. Their bombers had already been outfitted for missile defense, and the fighters were prepped and ready to launch.

  “Centi-cred for your thoughts,” Sasha said as she approached.

  “This is going to be a fight,” Cole replied. “Our frigates and fighters can handle their frigates and corvettes. The rest of our ships will engage their counterparts, and we’ll start at the destroyers and work our way up to the battleships. I would say we should just go straight for the battleships, but there are simply too many ships. We’ve got to whittle them down, or I’m afraid the battlegroup will get swamped.”

  Sasha nodded. “Good thoughts. I’m not sure even we could stand up to thirty-six destroyers pounding on our shields. Our cruisers are good, but I don’t know if they’re five-to-one good.”

  Cole frowned. “Okay. We need to salvage as many of these ships as we can…as intact and whole as possible. We’ll take ‘em back to Beta Magellan, repair them to full functionality, and conduct wargames to quantify just how many cruisers one of ours can take…and under what circumstances. We need to know that.”

  “Also good thoughts,” Sasha agreed.

  Forty minutes later, Cole nodded from his perch in the command chair and said, “Sound battle-stations, please.”

  The status lights on the bridge started flashing red as klaxons blared throughout the ship. He probably should’ve brought the ship to alert status first, but the ship and its crew would be ready long before they reached contact range.

  “All ships report ready, Cap,” Jenkins said.

  “Very well,” Cole replied. “Mazzi, are they within our powered missile range?”