by Jay Allan
There would be time for more later.
Or not…his doubts were under control, but they were not banished from his thoughts, not by a longshot, he realized. His ship could lose the one on one…just as easily as winning it.
But his eyes were cold, his exterior calm. He was playing the role, of a ship commander and a fleet leader both…but right now his ship needed him more than the fleet. His insides were tied in a knot, but outside he was the picture of a commander, apparently immune to fear, converging on the enemy with no thought save their destruction.
He watched the screen, as the weapons condensed, as every shot now focused on the sole enemy vessel. He could see the return fire as well, the opposing ship directing all its own guns at his ship, even as his vessel did the same thing. There were other ships in range of both, but they had other targets, and for now, his ship and the sole enemy vessel were alone, their weapons lashing out at each other as though they were the only vessels present.
He saw as shots flashed all around, both ship’s evasive maneuvers working well, preventing any of them from scoring hits. He shook, the vessel changing the direction of its movement rapidly, as quickly as every few seconds. It was the standard procedure for battle, and he was used to it…but it was still hard to take for the duration of an entire fight. He looked around, watching his bridge officers and realizing they felt the same way. The battle was immense. It had already been longer than almost every fight, and it was just beginning. He realized the difference wasn’t just the size of the combat, but the importance. His side, at least, couldn’t retreat, they couldn’t give up…they had to fight to the end, to save Earth-2, or to go down in the effort.
The enemy could withdraw, if the fight went badly enough for them, but his experience in fighting them told him, they probably wouldn’t leave, not unless they were outnumbered seriously. And win or lose, the likelihood of that was very poor indeed.
He watched as his ship fired, again and again, the still-functional guns blasting away at full power. But the enemy was tough to hit, almost as difficult as his own ship was, and for several minutes, the space between them was filled with beams and explosions…but neither vessel was struck.
Then, as things do, it all happened at once. His ship scored a hit, and then, quickly, another. The first was mostly peripheral, that was clear almost immediately, but the second was a direct hit, and it likely caused significant damage.
He felt himself smile, a cold-blooded satisfaction filling him. But it only lasted for perhaps fifteen seconds. Then the enemy scored its own hit, proving that they, too, were still in the fight.
Very seriously in the fight. He hoped, for a moment at least, that the enemy shot wasn’t that bad, that it only affected minor systems. But then, he saw the firing from his own ship, and he realized that three more big guns were down, and then, a few seconds later, his engines shook…and they went off, completely.
His ship was moving along, its speed fixed…a sitting duck, once the enemy realized it.
* * *
Frette was snapping out commands every minute or so. She realized that most of them were pointless, that her people knew what to do. But she did it anyway. She had the most experience, by far, of Earth-2’s active officers, but with the advance of science and the extended period she had spent in a coma, she was far from certain that she was the right one to lead the force. That hadn’t stopped her, though, and she had led the fleet, stepping into the shoes of her lost lover, Erika West. She often wondered if her dedication to duty, her unwillingness to accept any role in life save that of the fleet commander, came from her career, her lifetime of service…or from a feeling that she had to fill the roll left open by Erika.
Frette slipped into such thoughts again and again, but never at the cost of her attentiveness on the battle. She wasn’t happy, not really. She hadn’t had much emotion at all since she’d awakened and found that West had perished in the last major battle. She had simply returned to her role in the fleet, and soon thereafter, she had taken the roll of the commander, a position she had held ever since.
“Commander…the lead elements of the enemy formation are ten million kilometers from Earth-2.”
Frette turned toward her officer, and she responded, “Very well, Commander.” Her answer was tight, no audible change in her voice, but inside she was beginning to realize that she wasn’t going to take out the entire enemy fleet before it got within range of Earth-2. Unlike the main fight, where the enemy was matched up directly with her forces, she was chasing ships, following a group bound directly for Earth-2. It was taking all her ships had to stay in long range…and that just wasn’t going to get it done.
She sat for a moment, frozen, unsure what to do. Then, she realized. Her force was a mix of ships, and the newest ones, those with the most advanced systems, could accelerate a bit faster. It was a tradeoff, she knew, a chance to get a portion of her fleet closer to the enemy, while the rest remained farther back. She wasn’t sure whether that would help or hurt more, whether the advanced ships would take advantage of their positions, or just be destroyed by the increased enemy fire. But she was sure of one thing. She didn’t have a choice.
“All vessels…accelerate to individual maximum speed.” She snapped out the command, and she sat back, not even knowing how many of her vessels had various speeds. About one-quarter of her ships had the absolute fastest engines, or at least they had before the fighting had begun…and maybe another forty percent were close. “And I mean all ships pour every bit they can into their engines…every bit.” She knew that meant she might lose some ships, especially those whose commanders really pushed…and that it would further spread her fleet apart. But she also realized she didn’t have a choice. The battle was crucial on many levels, but nothing was as important as defending Earth-2.
“Yes, Admiral.” The response was fairly strong, but she could hear the doubt and fear despite her aide’s best efforts to hide them.
She listened as he passed on her command to the other ships, firming his voice as much as he could. She knew that didn’t matter, that her individual captains would interpret her orders differently. Most of them would push hard, she was sure of that, and the best officers, the ones who would strive the hardest, would be the ones she would probably lose first. But such was reality. And those who were killed in the pursuit would likely die only moments, or perhaps a few hours, before the others. She knew the reality, that even if her forces were somehow successful, they would suffer grievous losses. But she didn’t care. Not as long as the enemy was defeated.
She didn’t even care if she survived. In fact, she was almost sure she wouldn’t…and the thing that bothered her most was the officers and spacers on her ship. Frette herself was exhausted, tired of life, and she had kept herself going only through the realization that she knew a great battle would eventually come. Now it was here, and the only thing that mattered to her was to find a way to win.
Chapter Thirty
E2S Carson City
Alpha-Omega 12 System
Earth Two Date 04.12.63
Harmon felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. The guns from down below appeared suddenly. They emerged from the rocks and they started firing. He couldn’t even try to convince himself of anything except the truth.
At least one of his ships had been detected. And possibly more.
He knew it was possible, certain in fact, that his ships would be found, but he had hoped his fleet would make it a bit lower before it happened. Before the final stage of the battle began.
Even as he watched the fire, he wondered whether only a single ship had been found, or if his entire fleet had been discovered. Even as he watched, one of his ships took a hit, a partial one at least. Then, a few seconds later, the vessel appeared on his screens. He realized immediately that, along with whatever other systems it had lost, the vessel was now completely devoid of its cloaking abilities. It’s cloaking system was down.
He froze, staring, for a time th
at seemed long, but was probably no more than two seconds. He was trying to come up with some way to help the ship, to interfere with what he knew was going to happen…and then, before he could do anything to prevent it, he saw it.
One of the enemy guns fired, and it hit the ship almost head on. Harmon knew what was going to take place, but still, his mind screamed to be wrong.
But it wasn’t.
The ship exploded, and a few seconds later, it was gone.
He felt as though he’d taken a punch to the gut, but he pushed back. Now his focus was on only one thing. Had the enemy detected one of his ships? Or more?
He knew the Regent was an immense thinker, and he didn’t even imagine that it had concluded there had only been one such vessel. But determining something’s presence…and finding it on the scanners were two different things. He understood that, but he didn’t have the answer yet. He would just have to wait until his ships landed…or didn’t.
The seconds streaked by, slowly, more torturously even than they had before. The bridge was virtually silent, the other officers present watching just as he was, hoping for the best. That was all they could do…wait and see. And count the seconds until they landed.
And then a second ship erupted in a fireball. The enemy had found at least two of his vessels. And with the reduced maneuverability deep in the atmosphere, it had far less trouble tracking them down, scoring the deadly hits.
He squirmed, a bit, but mostly, he held on. He was old, he had lived a long life, and he was determined to carry out this last mission before he died. Somehow, he believed he would have that chance, that his ship would survive and land, though whether that was just fantasy, he didn’t know.
His best views of the planet—not good ones at all with just passive scans—suggested that there might be a minimum height for enemy fire. But whether that was a kilometer, or two…or half of one…remained a mystery. He felt the urge to change his landing operation, to come down more quickly, but he just sat quietly and did nothing. There was nothing he could do, except wait. And hope.
He stared at the ship’s large screen, watching…waiting. He knew he might have no warning at all, that if the enemy’s scanners picked up his ship, his first knowledge might be the shot that destroyed him. He’d expected the Regent’s defensive weapons to be big, but now he knew. There were huge. He didn’t have a ship that could take even one direct hit. That meant stealth was his only hope…at least until his surviving ships penetrated far enough.
But on the ground…the enemy knows about you. They will be waiting…
“Commander…I want all crew members ready. Ready for ground operations the instant we land.”
“Yes, sir…” The response was a bit delayed, but it was basically clear that his first officer, at least, was also ready. Ready for a fight…very possibly the final one, for all of them.
Harmon glanced down at his side. He had his pistol, and a dozen reloads stashed on his belt. He was prepared, partially at least, but he leapt up, and walked across the bridge to small door. There was nothing but hope he had to offer to the attempt to get through, to land…and that he could do wherever he was.
He had worked many posts in his early years in the navy, back in the day, but he knew the technology had mostly left him behind, at least in terms of doing anything except belting out commands. And that was already done…everyone knew what to do. If his ship made it, if it managed to land, that was only the first part of what he had to do. Everyone knew why they were there…and he acknowledged he was mostly just another one of them. And old one, less useful perhaps than any of the others.
But here nevertheless…
He knew the landing was just the beginning of the operation, and not the most difficult part, either. Defeating whatever forces the Regent sent up to face his attack, then forcing his way into the underground system, and finding and destroying the great computer…it seemed unreasonable, undoable. He paused, for an instant, wondering how he had even thought that it was possible, how he could actually destroy the Regent…especially with the meager force he had brought.
But that only lasted a moment. He could do it…if he remained focused. He knew that was just his own thought, that very probably it wasn’t really true, but he chose to believe it. If he failed, he would die here, but he would only be among the first. Even if his people somehow survived the assault on Earth-2, they would still probably die…in a year, or three, or five. Only he carried the chance for true victory, for the defeat of the enemy. And he had to believe he had a chance.
He just had to believe it…
* * *
Captain Leigh’s eyes were fixed on her main screen. Her scanners had picked up an enemy shot from the planet down below…and an instant later, one of her companion ships appeared. It had been hit, barely, but the size of the gun was enough to cause considerable damage, enough at least that it appeared on her scanner. She had just realized that it was Ventara…and then it took another hit, a direct one this time, and vanished.
Her insides tightened, both sorrow for the ship and its crew and a realization that the rest of the fleet had already completed much of its landing. She’d hoped to get some kind of scanner contact of one of her ships, but not this way. She panicked for a moment, worried that all of the other vessels had been detected. But she couldn’t see any others on her scanner, and the enemy’s shots appeared to be mostly randomized.
She watched for a few more seconds, but then she realized the four enemy vessels, the ships that had set out to scour the system, were exerting thrust to head back. Whether the Regent had detected only one ship or not, it was on the alert now, and that meant trouble.
Not the least of which was the four ships returning. They weren’t far, maybe an hour and a half at full thrust, and she redirected her scanners to confirm that. Her mind was caught in a web, uncertainty about what to do. Should she descend, try to join the fleet…or stay hidden, perhaps ambush the returning enemy vessels?
She wasn’t sure what she should do, not at first. But then her mind calmed a bit. If she went ahead, she would only be one more ship, useful perhaps, but only marginally. If she stayed where she was, if she successfully ambushed the returning enemy vessels, she could probably do more. She wasn’t crazy, she didn’t assume that even with her stealth generator working at full, she could defeat all four enemy ships…but she could probably keep them busy, at least long enough to buy time for Harmon and the others.
Even if that resulted in her ultimate destruction.
As she was thinking, she saw another ship hit and destroyed, and she cringed, feeling that all of the vessels had been found, that she would see them all destroyed…but there were none after that. Harmon and the other seven vessels should be through by now, she thought. Assuming the entire fleet had remained together, except her ship. Still, even if only five or six of the vessels had made it through, they at least had a chance.
If I can keep those four ships busy…for a while at least…
She turned, looking across the bridge to her first officer. “Commander…bring us around immediately…300.240.160.” The direction was a guess, a move toward the general heading of the returning enemy ships. She would have to change it, she was sure of that. At least a little. But it was the best way to start. “Increase thrust to twenty percent.” She had hesitated a bit on the second command, wondering how far she could push it, how much thrust her scanner-blocker could hide from four approaching enemy ships on high alert. She wrestled with a few things, and she settled on twenty percent. It was faster than she believed wise, yet slower than she wanted to go. In a quick determination, it was the happy medium, and it would get her some distance from the planet before she attacked.
And once you do that, they will know you’re here.
She wasn’t sure how long her scanner-blocking would work, how it would continue to hide her when she opened fire. She had no idea really. Testing the system while firing had not been done at all. She could only hope for the best…
pray that her combination of varying thrust and enemy scanning difficulties kept her ship safe. Long enough, at least to buy some time…and possibly to take down one or two of the vessels, while giving Harmon some time.
She knew her plan likely meant death for her, for all of her people. But she put that out of her mind, and she was fairly sure her bridge officers did as well…at least for the moment.
And one moment at a time was all she dared to think about just then.
* * *
Harmon hung on, barely even breathing as his ship raced lower, approaching the ground below. The vessel was below a kilometer from the ground now, and he hadn’t seen any of the shots taken by the Regent so low, though he knew it was at best a guess that his position was below the arc of the guns. Still, he clung to that hope, and the realization that his vessel would be on the ground in less than a minute.
He told himself other things, too, not the least of which was, whatever else lay ahead, the Regent was obviously aware of his presence. It might not know how many ships were there—minus the two that had been destroyed during the landing—but it was fully aware now, that there was a threat. And that meant it would throw everything it had at him, at all his people. He had known that, of course, and he hadn’t imagined that he would be able to land undetected, but now it was real. It was happening…and despite his die hard attitude, he felt the fear.
He pushed back against all the doubts, and he thrust himself up to his feet. “Commander…I’m going down now. I’ll be heading out with the rest of the crew. You stay here with your bridge personnel, and the baseline crew…and be ready to pull out on minimal notice.” He knew leaving any crew in the ships just took away from his landing party, but it also maintained the illusion that he anticipated any of his people making it out. He didn’t, not really, but it was useful to maintain the image.