Salvage Title

by Kevin Steverson

  They had come earlier than Harmon had thought, and he hoped they weren’t too late. The Squilla must really be angry at Tretra’s interference.

  “Battle stations, all hands battle stations,” Harmon said over the ship’s comms.

  “All missile launchers online, sir,” said Lieutenant Bevtilattley, the weapons officer.

  “Sir, I read one medium battlecruiser and two escorts, a destroyer, and a frigate. The destroyer is turning; sensors indicate it is a missile class,” said the tactical officer.

  Clip and Jayneen had been able use the galactic net, footage of the recent battles, and information from several different systems that had been in conflict with the Squilla in the last fifty years to gain information on Squilla ships, tactics, and tendencies in battle. Some of the information had been classified on system networks. Harmon did not feel guilty in the slightest when he asked for the information even though he knew how some of it would be retrieved.

  “Bev, designate five missiles each on the battlecruiser and frigate. Ten for the missile destroyer. Lock them in and launch immediately,” Harmon said. He wasn’t taking any chances; a Squilla missile destroyer could pump out swarms of missiles.

  “Clip, be ready down there,” Harmon called down to the defensive bridge.

  “We’re as ready as we’re going to be, man,” Clip said. Harmon could hear the nerves in his voice.

  “Missiles away and tracking, sir,” weapons said.

  “The battlecruiser has launched twelve fighters, sir,” tactical said.

  “Roger. Keep an eye on them, Adam,” Harmon said.

  “Flight deck. Fighters inbound. Launch all fighters,” Clip said over all comms.

  “The destroyer has launched twenty missiles,” Jayneen said, down in the defensive bridge.

  “One, fire a spread of eight shotgun missiles at the earliest interception point, programmed to detonate two seconds prior,” Clip said to the Leethog occupying the first console.

  “Yes, sir. Calculations complete. Launching,” Defensive Position One said.

  The hatches slid aside, and two groups of four defensive missiles fired off and turned toward the designated coordinates. Their rockets burned out eight seconds later. They were moving at an incredible speed and nearly invisible to enemy sensors. If the enemy’s missiles stayed on target, they would meet the missile’s shotgun blast.

  Harmon watched the display on the main screen. He could see the three ships all turning toward them and the symbols indicating the inbound and outbound missiles. There was a circled area of the approximate spot the shotgun missiles would detonate. The outbound missiles passed the spot several seconds before the incoming missiles reached it, and they passed each other.

  “Missile destroyer has launched another spread of twenty missiles, sir,” tactical said. He knew the defensive bridge—the DB—was tracking it, but he wanted to inform the captain, as well.

  Sixteen of the initial launch of Squilla missiles disappeared from the display. He could see the two escort ships pull ahead to provide cover for the battlecruiser. Textbook, thought Harmon. The symbols for the outbound missiles merged with the three Squilla ships. The defense lasers on Salvage Title engaged the four inbound missiles.

  “Four missiles destroyed,” Jayneen said down in DB.

  “Sweet!” Clip exclaimed, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

  “Massive power surges on the frigate, sir. It’s venting atmosphere and coming apart. There is slight damage to the missile destroyer and the battlecruiser,” tactical said.

  “Sir, we are within range of the main guns,” weapons announced.

  “Target that missile destroyer and fire at will,” Harmon said.

  The weapons officer fired all four cannons on that side as the ships were all coming together at an angle. Everyone on board felt the cannons fire one after another. Six seconds later, they felt them fire in the same sequence. It was repeated once more.

  “Sir, the missile destroyer has broken apart. There is more damage indicated on the battlecruiser. It has fired eight missiles and is turning away,” tactical let him know.

  “DB, flight operations. All enemy fighters destroyed. We have two damaged fighters returning. No casualties. Do you wish to turn fighters over to TAC?” the flight officer asked.

  “Roger that. Send them over,” Clip said.

  “TAC, flight operations. The fighters are yours,” the flight officer said.

  “Roger that,” tactical replied. “Fighters will be in range of the battlecruiser in two minutes, sir.”

  “Bev, fire two more cannon salvos and cease fire,” Harmon told weapons.

  “Yes, sir,” weapons answered.

  “All fighters be advised. You will have zero friendly fire in one half mike, over,” tactical said over the fighter comm network. “Engage with missiles when within range.”

  “Three. Fire one salvo of shotgun missiles,” Clip said.

  “Missiles away,” Defense Position Three said.

  “Abort. I am initiating abort on shotgun missiles. The fighters are in the path of the spread eight minutes out,” Jayneen said.

  “Fire a scrambler,” Clip said.

  A separate missile tube below the stern of the ship fired a jamming missile. From what Clip could figure out, it was designed to imitate the battlecruiser to any sensors and jam their guidance for oncoming missiles. There were only ten onboard, a rack of five loaded and five more stored in the small compartment where the tube was located. He didn’t know if they would work on Squilla missiles since they had been made over twenty-two hundred years ago. He found out soon enough. It didn’t work. The missiles continued toward them.

  “Squat! Engage with all lasers, now!” Clip shouted.

  All the lasers that could lock on began firing at their extreme range and continued as the missiles came in. One missile got through the crisscrossed pattern of fire and detonated against the shields. It was only one out of twenty-eight, but it was felt throughout the entire ship. Several circuit boards in the shield generators blew. Repair crews scrambled into action. They had to shut down those sections to fix them.

  “Bridge, DB. We are down to ninety percent starboard shields. Not all of that was damage; we shut some of it down to fix it. Should be repaired in a few minutes,” Clip called.

  “Get them fixed. We have to catch the rest of them and see what we can do to help,” Harmon replied.

  * * *

  Hank grinned as he reached up and fired four missiles at the flickering thrusters of the battlecruiser as he started to pass over from stern to bow. Other fighters also fired the last of their missiles. He kept his finger on the trigger of the lasers as the Squilla ship came apart. He was down to eighty percent shields from the dogfights. The Squilla fighters had been slower than the sleek fighter he was flying; it had been an exhilarating few minutes of dogfights.

  “Bravo four, missiles away,” he called over the squad network. He may have been an associate, but there was no way Harmon was letting the Leethog brothers be flight leaders. When they were on ship, it was one thing. When flying, they had to defer to experience. Hank didn’t mind. He still had fun.

  The fighters all pulled away as the fusion plants started to go in the battlecruiser, and it blew apart in a spectacular blast. Every Leethog in both squadrons had their helmet screen go dark momentarily. They flew back to the Salvage Title in formation.

  “Tactical, get those fighters in. Helm, prepare to engage maximum thrust. Take us to the edge of the dampener’s capability,” Harmon directed.

  “Zerith, we’re going to have to push the engines. Any issues down there?” Harmon asked on comms.

  “Power plant and engine room are ready to comply. I have been monitoring. Repair crewss are on sstandby,” Zerith said. Harmon could swear he was eating something.

  They had used twenty of the three hundred missiles they started with already. There were only two hundred and eighty still available. Harmon was worried they may not last th
rough this battle. There was still twenty ships inbound toward the center of the system, and one was a Squilla Dreadnaught. He had tactical pull up the system view on the main screen, so he could see what the home fleet was doing and plan something. Anything.

  * * *

  Commander Three T’Kepta was still angry. Rip Tide and its escorts had been ordered to remain near the gate while the rest of the task force headed in system. The destruction of the rest of the human ships would result in several promotions. Promotions that he would not be receiving. It was a plot by K’Pitah to ensure a skilled commander did not rise in stature and challenge his right to command the task force, he was sure.

  He would have to be promoted to command a heavy cruiser or one of the carriers by the high command before he could distinguish himself there and be considered a candidate for task force command. If he never had a chance to earn the right to a promotion to a bigger ship, then he couldn’t challenge for the task force command position. It was deliberate.

  T’Kepta was contemplating the assassination of the Task Force Commander One. He was sure no one would suspect a three of being the mastermind behind the plot. He knew a seven or two that would be willing to see it done in return for future favors. Perhaps L’Captic, commander of the corvette Tidal Wave. T’Kepta would contact him and set up a discreet meeting upon return to their system. After this one was destroyed, of course. Without realizing the habit, his small claw reached up and wiped his bulging eye while he was tapping his big claw.

  “Commander, we have an incoming ship,” the tactical officer said.

  T’Kepta rose up on all eight legs on his commander’s platform. A merchant ship would provide some entertainment to the boredom of gate patrol. As the squadron commander, he would have first choice of any goods before distribution to the fleet. He would not limit himself to the percentage allotted, either. His ship, his rules. He turned his eyestalks to the screen.

  “That is no merchant. Look at its speed. Inform the Undertow and Rippled Sand,” T’Kepta said.

  * * *

  The commander of the missile destroyer Rippled Sand had already given the order to turn and intercept the ship that had appeared on sensors by the time he was contacted by the squadron commander. His tactical officer told him that he thought it was a medium battlecruiser, but it was giving off readings he had never seen before. J’Bitwa hadn’t become a commander five by hesitating. He ordered the weapons officer to fire a full spread as soon as he had a firing solution.

  “The battlecruiser has fired twenty missiles, commander,” said the tactical officer.

  “Prepare the rapid lasers. Weapons, where is my launch?” demanded J’Bitwa, slamming his big claw onto his platform.

  “Launching now, sir,” answered weapons.

  * * *

  The commander of the frigate Undertow, a newly-promoted commander six, ordered his ship into overwatch, mimicking the destroyer. He and his officers could see the inbound missiles coming, and he debated firing the four missiles loaded in the tubes or just waiting to see if the spread by the destroyer was going to be enough. If he saved his missiles, he could use them later as the enemy ship was breaking up and perhaps deliver the killing blow. He already had his eyestalks on commander five.

  “Engage the oncoming missiles with the rapid lasers,” he commanded.

  When the inbound missiles reached the trio of ships, despite all the defensive lasers, the frigate took three hits. The first two missile impacts overloaded the shields and blew the generators completely. Its commander never knew this, though, as the third missile blew the small ship nearly in half.

  * * *

  Aboard the medium Squilla battlecruiser, T’Kepta watched as the two escort ships engaged the incoming missiles. He ordered his weapons officer to do the same. He was not particularly worried. The rapid lasers would destroy the missiles. The few made it past them would not penetrate the shields. It took many human missiles to do that, the Squilla fleet had learned.

  “Launch fighters,” he ordered, confident the barrage of missiles headed to the unknown ship would all but render it defenseless.

  To his surprise, six of the twenty missiles inbound made it past the lasers. Three hit the frigate, destroying it. One hit the destroyer, knocking its forward shields out of commission and damaging the ship. Two missiles hit his forward shield. The shield held, but there was major damage to the shield generators responsible for that area. He ordered the helm to turn about. Without orders, his weapons officer fired a half of a salvo of missiles now that there was an aiming solution. He would have to keep an eyestalk on that one.

  He watched on the screen as another flight of missiles left the Rippled Sand and then the beams of energy began pounding it. Four impacts hit the Rippled Sand as it was turning, and a few seconds later, four more tore it apart. He stared and began to know fear. Four more hit what was left of the ship; the last two came through the wreckage and washed up against the shields of his ship, knocking him from his platform. His tactical officer called out damage reports, and the lights flickered as the energy beams tore into Rip Tide. He would never be promoted to commander two.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Sir, a ship has emerged through the gate. It is Salvage Title,” Lieutenant Camille Kinigsly said.

  Lieutenant Kinigsly was the tactical officer for Tretra’s Pride, the flagship for the entire Tretrayon Defense Fleet. She was speaking to her commander, Captain Wynton Arton, but with Fleet Commander Admiral Timerton on the bridge, it was for his ears as well.

  “One ship? There are three Squilla ships guarding the gate. She better be an extremely lucky ship. They’ll pound her into scrap before she gets very far in system,” Captain Arton said, shaking his head.

  “Salvage Title?” Admiral Timerton asked. He walked up beside his flagship commander. “Tomeral was told to keep it out of this system. What the hell is he doing back?”

  “Sir, Salvage Title is moving at a speed that none of our ships can match. Not for any period of time, anyway. It appears as if she is attacking the Squilla,” the tactical officer said.

  “Put it on the screen,” Admiral Timerton said. “Sorry, Wynton.” In his excitement he had overstepped his bounds. The ship belonged to its commander.

  “No apologies needed, sir. These are trying times,” Captain Arton said.

  Second and third fleet were preparing for an imminent attack by twenty Squilla ships moving at maximum speed toward the inhabited portion of the system. They had a little over three days before the battle began. All of first fleet had been destroyed in another system except for one heavily-damaged ship that had limped back.

  The screen brought up what the tactical officer could see. It showed the symbols for the ships at the far end of the system. It showed the missiles and the fighters of all involved. There were sensors placed throughout the system for occasions like this. In hindsight, many thought that there should have been defense platforms throughout the system instead.

  They watched in real time as Salvage Title destroyed the squadron guarding the gate. They couldn’t tell what weapon was used besides the missiles, but they saw the readings and could tell that the Squilla ships were completely dismantled. There were very few power readings from any of the enemy ships.

  “Sir, the Squilla ships are sending distress signals from several life pods,” the ship’s communications officer said.

  “Get me Salvage Title,” Admiral Timerton said.

  * * *

  “Sir, Tretra’s Pride is hailing us,” Lieutenant Jimtilnapray said, looking back at Harmon.

  Here we go, he thought. “Put it on screen, Jim,” Harmon said.

  “Lieutenant Tomeral, I don’t recognize that uniform, but I see you are wearing captain’s rank,” Admiral Timerton said.

  “Yes, sir. It goes with the territory,” Harmon said.

  “Are you aware that we have activated the Inactive Reserve, Lieutenant?” Admiral Timerton said.

  �
��I saw that. It looks like it happened a little over a week ago. I’m sure you are aware that the regulations state that if an IR member doesn’t answer the call to duty within one week, it is assumed that they resigned from the Inactive Reserves and they are discharged,” Harmon said.

  “I see,” Admiral Timerton said, looking off to the side. Harmon knew he was looking for verification.

  “I may no longer be a member of the fleet, but this ship and I will be fighting for Joth. This means we would like to be included in any battle plans that you have for the system’s defense,” Harmon said, knowing he may be pushing his luck with the fleet commander.

  Admiral Timerton looked back over to the side and his demeanor changed. He got his answer, and he didn’t like it but was resigned. He looked back at the screen.

  “Captain Tomeral, I am not sure what type of weaponry that ship has, but I just saw it tear apart a Squilla squadron. How about we let bygones be bygones and start fresh. I’ll be honest with you; we need all the help we can get. The Squilla wiped out first fleet. Rear Admiral Cothco and his people gave it all they had, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. The Squilla ships inbound are part of the fleet that destroyed him. I suspect that the other thirty ships will be here in a second wave inside of a week once they resupply,” Admiral Timerton said.

  “Sir, we’re here to fight. What is your plan?” Harmon asked.

  “I intend to send third fleet out around Joth and time it so the inbound will meet second head on while third hits its flank,” Admiral Timerton said.

  It was a solid plan, but it was predictable. Harmon thought for a moment and came up with an idea. Perhaps it would work. He decided to see it if the fleet commander would bite.

  “Sir, that is a good plan, but isn’t it one that the Squilla would be prepared for?” Harmon asked.