“Place point defense in automated mode and link our systems with the Constantine’s and Justinian’s tactical network,” Aibek barked. As he stared at the tactical view, a mass of red icons that indicated the location of the missiles closed rapidly with his three ships. “Navigation, come to course zero-nine-zero.” This would have the effect of putting the most PD weapons on target possible. “Communications, signal Colonel Amir. We need immediate fighter support!”
“Not so fast for glory now, are you, Colonel?” S’stro hissed quietly.
“Do something worthwhile or get off my bridge,” Aibek snapped. He forced his concentration back to the tactical plot.
Missile after missile attempted to home in during their terminal acquisition runs, only to be shot out of the void by concentrated close-in weapons system fire from the energy and ballistics-based point defense units that were the Resit Kartal’s last line of defense before their shields. They weren’t, however, good enough to defeat the entire barrage. A few got there, here and there, slamming into the shields of the mighty battleship. As Aibek watched, their portside shield power rating dropped like a stone from nearly one hundred percent to forty… but it held.
“Sir, enemy fast movers accelerating away from us, on a direct intercept course for CSV Lion of Judah.”
For a split second, Aibek considered turning away from the League battlegroup and pursuing the fighters, but they were faster than the Resit Kartal, and he had his orders. Onward. “Tactical, status of firing solutions?”
“Set, sir. Entering engagement range in thirty seconds.”
* * *
Simultaneously on the Lion of Judah, David gripped the hand rests on the CO’s chair as he stared at the holotank. The tactics of the League commander were easy to see. They undoubtedly saw the shield instability on the vessel’s port and aft quarters, and every one of his bombers was heading straight for it. After doing some quick mental math, it didn’t appear Amir had enough squadrons in space to provide an adequate defense. I guess we get to see how ballsy these PD weapons of ours really are.
“Conn, TAO. Enemy fast movers on high-speed approach to our port side,” Kelsey announced.
“TAO, engage point defense autonomous selection mode and set it to weapons free.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Communications, request all escorts concentrate their point defense fire on the bombers—and signal the air boss to get everything we can back in space, as soon as possible.”
Taylor didn’t even look up from his console. “Aye aye, sir.”
Onward the bombers came, shooting through space. On the tactical plot, David watched as icons representing LIDAR guided missiles separated from nearly all the friendly fighters and headed toward the enemy. A couple of dozen red icons disappeared, but the rest pressed on. New red images then appeared—inbound anti-ship missiles. Hundreds of them. “TAO, reinforce port shields with emergency power reserves.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
First one, then five, then twenty red icons vanished from the plot, followed by dozens more as the point defense systems did their job. But enough of the enemy weapons got through. The impacts registered first as slight jolts, then as the shields weakened, the jolts turned into all-out shocks that shook the bridge.
Come on, come on. David stared at his screen and felt relief as the end of the barrage was in sight. He thought about ordering a change in heading, but there was no point. The missiles were just too fast. The port shield dropped below five percent then flatlined.
“Conn, TAO. Port shield has failed, sir,” Kelsey announced with a tinge of worry in her voice.
The bridge rocked with a direct hit on the hull, then another, and another. The last of the red dots vanished, and David breathed a sigh of relief. “XO, damage report.”
“Our armor took most of it,” Ruth replied. “I’m getting a report of a fire in the main hangar, sir.”
“Confirmed,” Master Chief Tinetariro interjected as the bridge shook. “We’re getting secondary fires and explosions coming from the main hangar, sir.”
Fear and dread suddenly gripped David’s heart in a vise. Not again. He almost ordered Ruth down to the hangar but found himself unable to. “Evacuate the flight deck, route all damage control parties from decks twelve through twenty to the hangar.” Somehow, he was able to project a calm, decisive voice in the midst of his inner turmoil. “Give flight operations personnel a five-minute countdown for venting the area into space.”
“Sir, with respect, we don’t have five minutes,” Tinetariro replied before Ruth could speak. “Temperatures are rising steadily in the hangar, and automatic fire suppression is not controlling the hazard’s spread. We’ve got to vent now to save the ship.”
While the Master Chief’s words were harsh, and her tone direct, David knew she was right. Typically, over a thousand people worked the flight line, especially during a rearming and refueling evolution. God, forgive me. Please. He glanced back at her. “Thirty-second count. Order the damage control teams to seal the hangar and vent it as soon as practical.”
Ruth’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes were wide. “Enemy bombers reforming for another pass, sir.”
David leaned forward. “Communications, task Colonel Amir to intercept.” As he stared at the plot, he wasn’t sure if it would be enough—and the feeling of powerlessness was overwhelming.
* * *
Deep within the bowels of the Lion of Judah, Kenneth Lowe found himself assigned to a damage control team. While he’d never deployed on a ship, he, like all members of the CDF, had been drilled in boot camp on how to perform vessel-saving activities such as fire-fighting and plugging microfractures in the hull. And so he found himself in an ill-fitting fire-resistant suit, dragging a hose to deploy CO2 toward the nearest hatch to the hangar bay.
“Move like your lives depend on it!” a crusty senior chief barked. “I’ve seen cadets with more strength than your sorry lot!”
Always a mixture of insults and orders from the senior enlisted guys. Kenneth smirked to himself despite the situation as he redoubled his efforts. They all did—and the pace picked up. The group rounded a corner, and the hatch was in sight, obstructed by a wave of humanity flowing through the passageway. Dozens of crewmembers, most with soot-stained faces, many with visible injuries and extremities covered in blood, surged forward.
“Make a hole! Make a hole!” the same chief yelled as he pushed forward. “Corpsmen to deck seventeen, subsection D,” he called into commlink on his wrist.
There was a break in the line of wounded, which the team used to close the distance to the hatch. Flames were visible throughout the hangar, and the ship rumbled from an explosion within. Kenneth felt the pressure wave flow through the corridor. This is bad.
The chief touched the commlink to his ear, then turned to the team. “Change of plans, seal the hatch.”
“But, Chief, there’s numerous people still in the hangar,” Kenneth said, his face ashen. A group of six crewmembers charged forward through the fire, even as the team grouped around the entryway.
“The fire is out of control, so we’ve been ordered to lock it down for venting,” the chief yelled as the team helped the six to safety. “Now stop acting like a stupid civilian and dog that hatch shut.”
Kenneth was the closest, and he assumed his height made it seem to an outside observer as if he was the strongest. Regardless of the reason, he put his hands around the heavy alloy hatch and started to shove it closed. Mentally, he knew it was the right call—an out-of-control zero-G fire could destroy the ship in minutes—but only God knew how many people were still trapped. As it slid closed, he started to turn the backup wheel to seal it manually, as the automatic system was out.
A face appeared at the portal that allowed them a view into the hangar. It belonged to a young woman who was covered in blood. She immediately started pounding on the hatch. While there was little sound, it wasn’t hard to read her lips as she screamed, “Help me!”
“But she’s right there, Chief!” A moment later, the rush of atmosphere being sucked from the deck was so loud, Kenneth heard it even through the hatch. In the blink of an eye, the woman disappeared, sucked backward. He stared and watched as the thick smoke cleared, along with any hint of flames. Left behind was a melted landscape of destroyed fighters and bombers. Stunned, he turned away and barely got his faceplate off in time. Vomit sprayed onto the deck as his stomach churned and he repeatedly heaved until there was nothing left.
The chief put his hand on Kenneth’s shoulder. “It was the only way to save the ship, son.”
Kenneth knew the older man was right, but it did nothing to alleviate the horror of watching someone die a few inches away from him and not be able to do a thing about it. God help us all.
* * *
On the bridge of the Resit Kartal, Aibek sat in his now familiar perch—the war commander’s chair. It remained the loneliest seat he’d ever sat in. Unlike the Lion of Judah, where even in command, he felt a part of the team, here he was the outsider. Marked by my time with humans. Perhaps now I am something less than Saurian, at least in the eyes of my fellow warriors. It was a thought that disturbed him to his core.
The voice of his tactical officer interrupted his thought process. “Sir, the Lion of Judah is turning away from the battle. I’m showing an explosion in her flight deck.”
While Aibek had noted the loss of shields during the small craft attack, he’d assumed the dreadnought would shrug off the Leaguer’s fire. Clearly not the case. It only took him a moment to call up a detailed sensor scan and realize the mortal danger David and the rest of his fellow warriors were in. “Navigator, plot intercept course with the League fleet. Ensure the vector is one that will allow us to direct maximum point defense fire on the next wave of enemy small craft as we pass.”
“Acknowledged, Colonel,” the human navigator called out.
S’stro shifted in her seat and hissed, “You plan a direct assault on the enemy?”
Aibek cocked his head to one side. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Retreat and preserve our ship.”
For what had to be the fiftieth time in the last two hours, he fought down a primal urge to challenge her to blood combat. Instead, he forced himself to remain focused on the task at hand. “We will not bring dishonor to ourselves or the Saurian Royal Navy. Tactical, double load forward magnetic cannons with EMP and high explosive rounds.”
Commands were volleyed back and forth across the bridge over the next few minutes as the battleship gathered speed and its crew focused on the tasks assigned to them.
Aibek stared at the tactical plot with near-religious fervor. He waited for the optimum firing range for their numerous point defense systems, hoping to catch the League formations by surprise as they reformed for another attack. The moment the range hit, he roared a command. “Kill small craft tracks with point defense and flak cannons!”
Moments later, projectiles stabbed out from the Resit Kartal, shredding dozens of fighters and bombers. Explosions erupted through the void of space as warheads cooked off as the enemy vessels went through their death-throes. A few dozen erased, the rest pressed on toward the Lion. The Resit Kartal, on the other hand, moved confidently toward its ultimate target—the Napoleon class fleet carrier at the heart of the League formation.
“Enemy escorts in range, Colonel,” the tactical officer announced. “Cobra class destroyers and Lancer class frigates.”
“Obtain firing solutions on League escort ships,” Aibek said with a broad, toothy grin.
“Firing solution locked, sir.”
“Kill enemy escort tracks with guns and beams.”
Aibek’s words echoed across the bridge, and the Resit Kartal’s weapons spoke into the deep. Their magnetic cannons flung projectiles the weight of helicars at the shields of the Leaguer warships, battering them down in two or three hits. Followed up by high energy neutron beam pulses, the unlucky enemies were gutted from stem to stern. A few exploded outright, while others drifted in space, crippled and unable to further maneuver or engage.
“Adjust heading twenty degrees to starboard,” Aibek ordered. “Acquire Master Four as the primary target, all weapons. Set firing solutions.”
S’stro hissed in his ear, “Our deflectors cannot take a direct assault. What are you doing?”
“Multiple weapons, simultaneous impact,” he replied as if that would be all that was required to divine his intentions. “Tactical, lock all magnetic cannon turrets on the ventral side of the vessel in eighty-five-degree elevation. Set missile volley firing solution so it will hit Master Four fifteen seconds after launch, and display the range required on my screen. ”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Again the bridge fell silent as Aibek’s orders were implemented, leaving him to his thoughts as he stared at the tactical plot. An emotion he wasn’t used to, doubt, tugged at him. This action is reckless, one side of his mind said. The other felt anything less was dishonorable. The two League Alexander class battleships maneuvered to intercept the Resit Kartal, leaving their close escort positions and accelerating. This was the opening he was hoping for, daring the enemy to exploit what looked like a sure attack vector. Got him, as the humans say. He touched the control to highlight one of the League battleships as the primary target for the two friendly heavy cruisers to his port quarter. That should make some noise.
“Magnetic cannons locked in place, sir!”
Aibek leaned forward in his seat, anticipation taking over. “Double load all magnetic cannons with EMP followed by armor-piercing shells.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the tactical officer replied.
It seemed to Aibek as if the flow of the combat was finally coming into focus. The bridge team had gelled, and they were moving as one unit, with one goal—the hunt. Well, except S’stro. He was unable to suppress the smirk that came to his face along with the thought. “Tactical, stand by for multiple rounds, simultaneous impact attack on Master One. Ensure the magnetic cannon shells, neutron beam emitters, and missiles impact within three seconds of each other, on Master One’s starboard dorsal hangar bay.”
The tactical officer cranked his head around. “Sir, with respect, that is a very tight window.”
“It is. See you do not miss it.” Aibek’s voice was like ice. He expected nothing less than perfection, because they had one shot—and only one shot—to get it right. When fighting an enemy with one round, a wise warrior waits for the right time.
The League ships meanwhile, pummeled the Resit Kartal with their plasma cannons and missile armaments. Superheated balls of red plasma filled the black void between the respective vessels, causing bright yellow flares against the Saurian ship’s shield generators. Reinforced heavily by the miniaturized fusion reactors provided by the Terrans, they could take a lot of punishment. Eventually, though, their precious defensive power would exhaust itself against the onslaught of enemy fire.
“Forward shields at forty-eight percent, Colonel!”
The navigator must be reading my mind. Aibek said nothing. Instead, he stared at his tactical plot, watching as every second, the range ticked closer and closer. Finally, they were in position. He grinned. “Kill track Master One with guns, beams, and missiles.” Simultaneously, he triggered a directed fire order to the Justinian and Constantine.
The Coalition vessels, along with the Resit Kartal, roared as one. First missiles, then magnetic cannons, finally directed energy weapons that moved at the speed of light. The colossal display was something else to behold as explosions lit up across the face of the League vessels shields like the surface of a star. The sustained barrage of deflector draining EMP shells, coupled with dozens of missile warheads battered down the shields of the Napoleon class fleet carrier. And then, the armor piecing magnetic-cannon rounds went to work, burrowing deep into the enemy ship before exploding. The volley was
topped off by the concentrated energy of neutron beams, spearing the carrier’s starboard hangar. Secondary explosions blossomed across its surface, and finally, a massive fireball rocketed out of the side of the vessel, along with superstructure and bits of its hull.
Aibek grinned fiercely as scanners confirmed thirty percent of the carrier wasn’t there anymore. They’re adrift too. Scratch one enemy flattop. “Retarget all weapons to enemy battleships,” he barked, even as the ship shook from repeated plasma cannon impacts. “Coordinate our assault with the Justinian.”
While the carrier didn’t have much in the way of offensive weaponry, the battleships, on the other hand, did. They pummeled the Resit Kartal with a singular focus, spewing plasma fire and missiles at a prodigious rate. Combined with a sustained barrage from the remaining escorts, it was enough to hammer down the remaining deflector strength and allow impacts on the forward hull.
The bridge rocked, and both Saurian and humans alike were thrown about in their harnesses. “Navigator, turn us to starboard, maximum thrust. Present the port shield to the enemy. Tactical, reload all magnetic-cannons and divert shield power to the neutron beams,” Aibek ordered. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the plot. The unusual feeling of doubt returned momentarily.
And then, the Justinian and Constantine started their assault. EMP rounds, missiles, and concentrated beams of neutron energy ripped into the side of the nearest Alexander class battleship, battering its shields and outer hull. The coup-de-grace was both cruisers firing the particle beam weapon mounted along their ventral axis. One beam caught the League ship in the engine spaces, the other toward the bow of the vessel. They cut through it like a hot knife through butter. The white-hot concentration of energy came out the other side as secondary explosions broke out across the surface of the once mighty battleship. A few moments later, it exploded violently into two-foot-sized chunks.
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 22