by Chris Hechtl
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The bombers cycled through their four shots early, then used their telemetry to fire the torpedoes on the twelve fighters. Unlike before where they had targeted the one ship, this time they divided their fire between the two BCs. They also fired from slightly astern to try to catch the ship's vulnerable stern thrusters.
Point defense picked up immediately as the two ships abruptly slowed and turned into the threat. One torpedo was picked off immediately, then another, then counter missiles screamed out, and ECM turned their sensors into balls of angry fuzz.
“That's the last one!”
“Then pull out!” Meia ordered, putting words to action as she dove. Every craft split up in a swirl of drives and countermeasures.
When Meia looked back, she saw one of the last torpedoes going in. It got picked off just outside of the ship's shields, but its warhead went off. She could see some of the blast energize the shield and make it ripple and start to collapse on itself.
“Damn!” she snarled as she got the full report in. The butcher's bill was rough.
---<>---<>---
Amadeus saw the report coming in, but his attention was on his own problems. Damocles had gotten in too close covering Cutlass and that worried him. The two ships were exchanging long range fire with the BCs and not making any headway. He winced when the two ships took a hit. He ordered the two ships to withdraw and recover as Jojo wordlessly put the fighter's hot wash report up for his viewing.
Seven of the torpedoes had gotten in and done some damage to both ships according to CIC. Massachusetts had lost an engine and part of her stern armor as well as several turrets mounted in that area. Nevada had taken two hits on her port side, one high which had obliterated many of her turrets on that side. The high hit had glanced off the armor however and done the surface damage but had failed to get into the ship to gut her vitals.
It was obviously not enough. He swore silently as he tallied the losses. They had lost two bombers to hits—one destroyed, one damaged. Eight fighters had been destroyed, another five damaged. Meia was among the survivors. He nodded. “They shot their wad. They are done,” he said. There was no way he'd send them back in. They were fresh out of torpedoes.
“Sir, the enemy is picking up speed slightly. They have changed course for the B-95a3 jump point.”
“Going home to lick their wounds,” the admiral murmured.
“Yes, sir,” the young woman said with a trace of exhausted relief in her voice.
“Then it's time.”
“Time, sir?”
“Time to attack. Get on their six. Tell the gunships to get in there and harass them.”
“But, sir! Their running!”
“And we're going to hurry them along,” he stated. “Issue the order.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
---<>---<>---
The fighters had to wait until their carrier had drifted behind the BC to recover. That took time, which meant the carrier was steadily losing ground to the other ships.
Amadeus had to be aware of the fuel and munition situation. But he also knew the enemy had a similar problem. Sure they had a hell of a lot more, but according to Marshall's damage assessment on Nevada, she'd taken a nasty hit to her vitals. One perilously close to her magazines.
The AI had also kept track of the expenditures of each ship. Nevada had shot more, so she had to be running close to dry. Her dorsal side was also opened up with little turret coverage left.
Just as his gunships started their run the sixteen missile tubes on the stern of each of the BCs opened up. The unexpected missiles tore into the thirty gunships. The gunships had nowhere to go to evade the onslaught. They were obliterated.
“Frack,” Amadeus muttered.
“They are slowing, sir,” Jojo reported.
“Sir, we're getting a transmission.” Captain Ssri’allth reported.
“Scrub it, then play it,” the admiral said.
“Got anymore toys to send my way, furball? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust as they say,” a voice said, dripping with malice.
“Bastard,” Jojo murmured.
“Yes, he is. But so am I,” Amadeus rumbled. If he didn't chase them, they would have stayed he thought. They would have thought he was ready to give up. He had to keep the pressure on. From now on it was a bluff. He had to harry them on out the way they had came.
---<>---<>---
“Sir, we have activity at the B-458 jump point. Ships, multiple flashes there.”
“Ah, so his reinforcements have arrived.” Captain Post murmured.
“Sir …”
“Relax, we're not sticking around. We're going to escort Nevada to Nuevo Madrid, then we'll get a handle on our damage.”
“Yes sir,” the XO said with obvious relief in his voice.
---<>---<>---
“Admiral, we've got a tachyon IFF from a convoy on the B-458 jump point. Captain V'n'll wants a word.”
“I expect he does,” the admiral replied with a slight smile. He felt a bit elated. The timing couldn't have been better. They weren't enough, but it might be the difference he needed to get the BCs to really retreat, not just pretend they were doing so. According to the IFF, he now had two fresh Arboth class destroyers, four corvettes, and four gunships to tap. He watched the tachyon update.
“Sir …”
“I'm reading it myself,” the admiral said. According to the report, the colliers had just let the gunships and a squadron of fighters loose.
“Sir, the BCs are changing course to engage the convoy.”
“Order them to move. Stay ahead of the BCs. Give me their manifest lists again,” he said.
“Yes, sir, it's right here,” Jojo said, pulling it up. “They'll never stay ahead of those BCs for long, sir.”
“Believe me, I know. A BC is designed to run down enemy shipping. But I think we can convince them to see the error of their ways,” he said as he tapped the mines and missile pods on the manifest. “Yes indeed.”
---<>---<>---
“Sir, we're getting long range reports of something being ejected by those colliers.”
“Mines or missile pods,” Captain Post stated.
“Yes, sir. Or weapons platforms. We don't know. They also have fighters. That could be more torpedoes,” the CIC rating stated.
“I know that,” the captain said testily. His hands shook. He knew he was exhausted; only the stims and his stubborn pride to see things through were keeping him upright.
“Change course,” he said. “Make for the B-95a3 jump point. They've won this round.”
“I'd call it a draw myself,” Captain Mueller said over the link.
“Anytime we don't win, we lose. And I don't like losing. We're going to come back here and take this star system from that monkey as soon as we can. Now move out,” the captain growled.
---<>---<>---
Admiral White rendezvoused with the convoy to resupply and make hasty repairs. Cutlass and Halsey were stuffed to the gills with fighters and craft but they'd make do.
His corvettes shadowed the BCs off to the jump point, staying just out of their engagement range the entire way. It was an escort he bet he could appreciate but the enemy wouldn't.
“They'll be back,” he said tiredly.
“As long as it's next week. I'm bushed,” Jojo said tiredly. The admiral couldn't help himself. His weary face cracked a smile. After a moment he snorted, then hooted.
“It wasn't that funny,” the woman said, shaking her head and ignoring the chimp's unseemly mirth of relief. Finally, she too smiled however.
---<>---<>---
Once the Horathian warships jumped out of the star system, they started to tally up damage. The loss of ships, fighters, platforms, and people had been high. There were a lot of civilian deaths; he had no idea how many. Possibly in the thousands, though he was fairly sure more had died during the occupation than that short brutal bombardment. The people of Protodon were survivors.
They had secured the star system thoug
h, hanging on barely. In the end, that was what mattered. “We held on by the skin of our teeth.”
“That we did, sir,” Captain McGuyver replied with a grin. “Beer!”
“And with the ansible down, we can't tell anyone that. So they will be coming here eventually, gunning for battle.” He frowned then turned to the flag lieutenant. “Find out who is least hurt among the corvettes. Make sure she's got enough fuel and then dispatch her to Kathy's World with a full SITREP update. They can use the ansible there.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“If John didn't write us off as a lost cause. I hope not, but it was what I almost did,” Amadeus admitted. “Leaving the marines behind would have been painful however.”
“Yes, sir.”
Epilogue
Admiral Irons stood at the podium with the Federation flag draped behind him on his right and the Antigua planetary flag on his left. Governor Randall was with him. Arrayed nearby were many of the delegates from various worlds.
Those delegates were nervous, some terrified. He could smell their fear despite their best efforts to hide it from the public. They had a right to fear.
The enemy had lost four destroyers, four frigates, and ninety fighters. The new Federation had lost three destroyers, five damaged; five frigates, three damaged; six corvettes, six damaged enough to be sent to the breakers; a massive thirty-four gunships, three bombers; and forty-nine fighters. Fortunately, twenty-four of the fighters that had been lost had been stored in the warehouses without pilots. He had to thank the gods for small favors. Forces led by the escort carrier Admiral Raymond Spruance were already en route to relieve the damaged ships so the worst hurt could return to Antigua to be repaired. The relief forces were carrying a replacement ansible and new defenses for the jump point.
Now that the enemy knew the defenses were there, however, they would most likely not jump into the same spot. They'd jump short or even jump slightly off the jump point taking the defenders by surprise. He shook his head; they'd have to figure out something. Static defenses weren't enough.
Nor was his intention of building small ships to saturate the enemy and build up his pickets. The two battle cruisers had smashed most of that to smithereens; everything that had been built except the gas giant refinery that had managed to dodge the KEW strike had been blown to bits.
Amadeus's plan to hit Nuevo Madrid was also out the window. There was an obvious place where those two monster ships ended up. He wasn't sure what the Horathian repair yard in the star system was capable of, but it didn't bode well for them.
Admiral Subert was launching his seventh light cruiser in a week. He already planned on having it replace Shepard and Almirante Grau. The light cruiser division was being sent to B-95a3. The orders had been cut and sent out before his speech. The two cruisers would have to trade off on the picket duty, with one in system and under stealth at a time.
Amadeus had requested Maine since Bismark was undergoing refit in Antigua. John was tempted to send him the ship, but he didn't want to leave Antigua uncovered with the battleship opened up to be rebuilt. He'd put the request off for the day.
At least they'd have some warning if those battle cruisers came back with a better picket in B-95a3. Phil was also sending along one of the small repair ships Horatio had came up with. A crew of Spacebee engineers were on board. He should have thought of that—gone the small route there and not with the warships.
Missile Colliers, true Liberty or Victory class ships were rolling off the production lines in Antigua, courtesy of Anvil Prime's single yard slip and the Yard Dog's valiant efforts. The navy was buying them up as quickly as they could lay down the hulls. They may have civilian hardware, but they were a hull and were vital for the logistics arteries of the newborn Federation.
Each of the medium sized freighters were being packed with missile pods that had been stockpiled. The enemy knew how to adapt though; they were learning. The fact that they knew about the AI attack was also scary. They would need to have something else to help them take on the Horathians soon. The battle lines were being drawn; the two sides were matching up a lot sooner than he had planned for.
Phil didn't like it, but he'd sent Caroline and her division mate Mikhail Kutuzov off to take the place of the Kittyhawk's squadron in B100 omega. The two light cruisers would have to do until another escort carrier force could be sent in to relieve them. Since they were critically needed in Protodon, there was no telling when that would be.
Once the last two LCs were finished, Puglia and Belfast, the first squadron of light cruisers would be closed and focus would switch to Enterprise, Defiant, and the other cruisers already in the medium stages of production behind them. There was no telling when more of the small light cruisers would be built. There were two more squadrons left in mothballs in Pyrax, but the needs of the fleet were evolving rapidly.
Until they had more battle cruisers and capital ships of their own in the frontier, the only weapons they had were the fighters and missile pods. The torpedo strikes had been crippling to the enemy. They would need a lot more Mitchell bombers and torpedoes in Protodon he thought.
He was already planning on pulling the crews from the damaged ships and slotting them into new construction. It wasn't as easy as it sounded, but it was the best he could do to get them back into the fight as quickly as possible. The damaged ships would be repaired when they had time.
And he could no long slight the marines. He realized they needed, no deserved, proper hardware and support. Proper assault shuttles and attack craft as well as other hardware, and proper transports to get them where they needed to be, which was why Sindri and the yard was laying the first of three marine transports.
“As many of you know, the pirates attacked Protodon several weeks ago. I am here to report that our forces through strength of will and determination managed to hang onto the star system. They paid a heavy price, but the enemy was routed and has left with his tail between his legs.”
He waited for the cheers to end before he continued. His eyes were heavy with knowledge of what that victory had cost. He hadn't mentioned that Amadeus's forces had won the day either. He knew better.
“Once more the navy has confirmed that the price of freedom is the blood of patriots,” Admiral Irons rumbled in a public address through the ansible network. “Protodon and her people survive—beaten, battered, but defiant. They shall rise once more as we shall rise with them. As Winston Churchill said long ago, ‘We will not give in. We will never surrender,’” he thundered, clutching at the podium as the reporters in the room fell silent. “Tomorrow's sunrise will be bittersweet with the memories of the fallen. But at least we are here and free to mourn and remember them.”
“Here, here,” Governor Randall murmured.
---<>---<>---
Captain Post snarled as he read the latest damage control report. They were barely making the first octave of Beta and that was due to Nevada's damage. It would be weeks, possibly months before his ship would be made whole once more … and that was with a full yard. Nuevo Madrid had only a basic repair facility, which meant he would have to eventually fall back to Garth to get his ship restored. Nevada would have to do the same. Her hurts were far worse than his.
Once they were back in B-95a3, he planned to round up the transports and tanker and take them all to Nuevo Madrid. There was no way he could repair the damage he had with his current engineering compliment. His injured also needed attending to. Rear Admiral Frost was known as a dullard and not known for taking risks. He didn't like the idea of being backstopped in the star system. Undoubtedly, the fat man would keep his ships in Nuevo Madrid, ever fearful of the Federation moving in on him.
He was tempted to let Nevada move on her own to Garth. If he went to Nuevo Madrid, he could monopolize the repair yard, get his ship sorted out, and then go back in to Protodon before the enemy could fully rearm. If Frost let him. Big if there he thought sourly.
The temptation to turn around in B-95a3 and wade
back in was strong, but he tempered it with the realization that he would go in without fighters or escorts. It was ripe for disaster. No, he was going to go back but only when he was ready. He'd smash them once and for all.
“We shall not let this insult stand,” he murmured to himself. “We will be back; we shall not be denied our place in history,” he snarled, clenching his fists in the small of his back.
The End
Author's afterward
This book went way faster than anticipated. Wow. Short, brutal, but short. I kept going back, trying to think of ways to add stuff, but I couldn't do much without messing up the pacing of the core story. So, if I forgot a favorite character or didn't put much emphasis on Irons or someone else, sorry. You'll have to wait and see what I come up with for Pirate's Rage and Jethro 4. :)
I know I goofed by not adding more history of Trinity and getting to the answers I promised in Ghosts from the Past. Sorry about that. And I didn't go into any more detail here. Some of it is coming … eventually. As I said before, I had to hold some back for the Ragnarok (also known as Gotterdammerung) time period. (I could never spell that before! Grr.)
Oh, for the record, there are parts in this book that are in Jethro 4 Act I-II. And I had to give away a good chunk of some events in that book too. I had intended to get it out before this one but … well, my rewrite of this book and PR has thrown me all off. It'll be fun untangling J4. I did go light here, keeping it thin since I didn't want to give J4 completely away.
I've been modeling many of the characters in 3D in Daz3D using assets I bought there and at Renderosity. You can see them on my blog until Jory and I get around to setting up the wiki and website. :)
Thanks to Poon, Darion, Jory, Mike, Joshua, and the other betas for keeping me on track.
You can read more on my blog.
Cast: