“Aye, aye, sir.”
Minutes passed. Nothing happened as far as Hartford could see. He quickly grew impatient. “Lieutenant, why are my orders not being carried out?” he snapped.
“Sir, different SAG commanders are claiming to be in charge of the fleet. The command channel is jammed.”
Hartford exploded out of his seat, incensed at what he’d just heard. “Clear those channels, now, Lieutenant. Or I will have you shot.”
The Russian woman’s face turned white, and she shook in her seat. “Admiral, I cannot. Only the flagship has that authority. Please, Admiral. I am doing my social duty to the best of my societal ability.”
Anger burned in Hartford. He wanted this moment, just as much as he knew his mentor—Pierre Seville—wanted it as well. To think that at on the cusp of victory, individualist notions from League officers chasing glory for themselves would curtail their advance brought rage to the surface. Such anger has no place directed at a loyal officer, however. “Of course you are. See that you continue… or punishment will be swift.”
* * *
“Conn, TAO. Master Six hundred forty-seven neutralized,” Ruth called out.
David leaned his head back and glanced up at the tactical plot. “Status of the energy weapon capacitor?”
“Forty percent, sir. We need three minutes to recharge fully.”
Over the last few minutes, the Lion and her escorts had chewed up a lot of Leaguers. While the initial shock started to wear off, David aimed to make every volley count. It’s only a matter of time until someone establishes control again over there. I’m surprised it's taken this long. “Signal the gunnery crews to speed reloading of the magnetic cannons by any means necessary.”
“Conn, communications. Sir, the League command frequencies are still overloaded, but three separate vessels appear to be giving orders now.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” David replied.
Tinetariro leaned in and whispered into his ear, “What do you make of it, sir?”
“I would’ve expected Seville to have a clear chain of command in case of communications interruption or his flagship getting rammed. Maybe he didn’t.” David grinned. “The man does have an ego.” It was far less important to him why the Leaguers were still scattered, as opposed to the fact that they were. The longer it went on, the better for the allied fleet. If only we had our carriers, I could strike a decisive blow. “TAO, firing point procedures. Target the next line of escorts with magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”
“Aye, aye, sir, firing solutions set.”
“Match bearings, shoot, magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”
Mag-cannon shells raced out from the Lion and slammed into numerous League escort vessels. The shields of frigates and destroyers lacked the raw power to stand up to the kinetic energy of multi-thousand-kilo warheads impacting their protective screens. As they failed, Ruth followed up her initial volley with neutron beam strikes, which blasted the brittle armor and hull of the enemy. Several ships exploded, while others were reduced to burning wrecks.
David surveyed the results with grim satisfaction. “Master Chief, expedite reloading of our fore and aft VRLS. I want to throw enough Hunters at these guys to make them think twice about continuing to attack.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Tinetariro replied. “I’ve got as many teams as we can spare on it.”
Lost in thought, David didn’t respond as he studied the tactical plot in real-time. Red and blue dots continued to blink out, though the red dots disappeared at a far higher rate than the friendly vessels. Good. The rate of exchange is now eight to one. It needs to stay there for us to pull this out. He reproached himself for a split second at thinking the loss of any soldier was an improvement. There was no time, however, to ruminate on the effect of war. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Six hundred ninety-two.” The next target was a now exposed Alexander class battleship. “Magnetic cannons, neutron beams, and the forward particle beams.”
“Firing solutions set, sir. Still ninety seconds to particle beam recharge.”
“Navigation, intercept course, Master Six hundred ninety-two. Line us up, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Hammond said as she worked the controls on her console. “We’re within one degree of dead on, sir.”
David grinned wolfishly. “They’re not going to like what happens next.”
* * *
Meanwhile, on the LSS Ho Chi Min, Hartford stared in abject shock at the holo tank in the center of his vessel's bridge. The carnage in ships and sailors wrought by the Lion of Judah was unlike anything he’d seen. Dozens of escorts wiped out of the universe by one ship. He snarled quietly and forced emotion down. “Communications! Have you contacted the rest of the group commanders?”
“No, Admiral.” The woman’s quiet reply was unnerving. “I am sorry, sir, they do not answer. The command lines are still jammed.”
Fools! Idiots! Fighting over the supposed glory of the kill. Intense, boiling anger rose to the surface within Hartford. His first inclination was to put his fist through the nearest human for release. Instead, he had a sudden inspiration. “Tactical, order our boarding pods prepared for immediate launch.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Communications, transmit to all ships in our action group—I want every boarding pod readied to attack the Lion of Judah. We’ll overwhelm them from within and take that ship for the League.” More likely, tie up their internal defenders and hopefully reduce that infernal vessel's effectiveness, but anything is better than it defeating us in detail.
“All ships in our unit acknowledge, sir,” the communications officer replied.
“Excellent. Launch when ready.”
* * *
The battle had equalized if the destruction of numerous vessels on both sides could be called equilibrium. Their nose bloodied by engaging the CDF and RSN forces piecemeal, the Leaguers had pulled back into a dense sphere formation with the capital ships clustered in the center. David studied the tactical plot from different angles, looking for an unprotected portion of their fleet—or anything else he could use against them.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Masters Six, Eight, Nine, Twenty-four, and Thirty-one have launched breaching pods, sir,” Ruth announced.
David glanced down at her. Breaching pods—now there’s something I haven’t seen in a while. “TAO, how many pods?”
“Computer says six hundred, sir.”
His face went white. Six hundred pods with eight soldiers each… that’s three thousand Leaguers. It only took him a moment to process since they were so undermanned—with only a few hundred masters-at-arms and Marines onboard—the pods represented a severe threat to the Lion of Judah. “TAO, forget the enemy fast movers. Target the pods with our point defense weapons and light them up.”
“We should get the ship ready to repel boarders, sir,” Tinetariro said, her tone insistent.
A combat evolution I haven’t done in a dozen years. Great. David cleared his throat and punched the intercom on his chair for 1MC. “Attention all hands, this is the commanding officer, General Cohen. Prepare to repel boarders. I say again, prepare to repel boarders. Seal all bulkheads and secure the gravlifts. League boarding pods are inbound.” He stood up as he clicked the button to turn off the mic. He took a breath and punched up Calvin on the intercom. “Colonel Demood, this is Cohen.”
“What can I do for you, sir, besides give our Leaguer friends a hot welcome?”
“I could use a Marine detachment on the bridge, and in engineering. Along with defense in depth, the length of the ship.”
There was a pregnant pause on the line. “I’m moving teams to secure engineering now, as well as the bridge, but there’s just not enough numbers on our side to lock the ship down.”
“I feared as much.” David grimaced. “Do what you can. Impress every able-bodied crewman not performing damage control or a vital combat function into your combat teams.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Godspeed, Colonel.”
“Godspeed to you too, General.”
David let his head rest back on his chair for a moment as he clicked off the intercom. The vessel rumbled as more League plasma balls found it. A glance at the tactical plot showed a detachment of League ships attempting to degrade the Lion’s already damaged shields further.
“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Three hundred seventeen, Three hundred eighteen, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams.” He picked out two Rand class cruisers that seemed to be leading the charge. “Target their escorts at your discretion.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Firing solutions set,” Ruth quickly replied.
“Match bearings, shoot, magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”
The giant mag-cannons on the Lion of Judah rumbled in the black void. The vibration from them shook the deck ever so slightly. Bright blue beams of energy stabbed out, impacting the deflector screens and hull of the League vessels, blasting chunks of armor into space. One of the Rands exploded violently, as a neutron beam found something important on the interior of the unlucky ship.
David glanced at Tinetariro. That’ll give them something to think about while we focus on defending the ship. “Master Chief, open up the bridge armory. Everyone… prepare to defend yourselves. Communications, signal Colonel Amir to drop everything and engage those pods.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” Taylor called out.
“On it, sir,” Tinetariro replied as she sprang out of the XO’s chair and strode to a nondescript panel built into the wall of the port side of the bridge. A biometric scan later, it popped open, revealing a large cache of ballistic body armor, battle rifles, pulse pistols, grenades, and extra magazines.
David was right behind her and surveyed the weapons inside. “I don’t think there’s enough to go around for everyone.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t have a chance to review the master-at-arms report before we got underway.”
“Don’t worry about it.” David flashed a grin. “We’ll make do.” He turned around. “Listen up, people. We’re going to have a lot of Leaguers heading for us. Senior officers should take armor and a sidearm. The Master Chief will bleed off as many other personnel as possible, who will be issued armor and a battle rifle. Hopefully, there’ll be enough pulse pistols left for the rest of us. No matter what, we hold. Do you get me?”
“Yes, sir, yes!” came the rousing chorus back.
Faces painted with grim determination greeted David as he swept the room with his eyes. “Good. Let’s get to work. Master Chief, pull our Marine sentries back into the bridge proper and secure the hatch.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” She turned back to the rating manning stations along the walls. “You heard the General; get moving!”
As Tinetariro went about her business, David made his way to the tactical console. “Captain,” he said quietly, not wishing to cause alarm. “When the time comes, I’m going to join the defense team. I trust you to make every shot count when it does. No matter what, the Lion of Judah does not stop firing. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Ruth replied. Fear showed on her face. “What if they take the CIC, sir?”
David forced a grim smile onto his face. “Then we’ll self-destruct the ship rather than let them capture it.”
“Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.”
“Same here.” David touched her shoulder. “But if it does, it’s been an honor serving with you.”
* * *
Amir banked his Phantom around and located his quarry with the sophisticated sensor net embedded in the fighter’s command and control interface uplink. All around him, the battle raged. What seemed like hundreds of bolts of blue and red energy streaked by, each a testament to individual contests being waged between his pilots and the best the League had to offer. He tagged every squadron he dared to engage the new objective: the boarding pods. “Reapers, break off and form on me. We’re taking out those pods before they hit the Lion of Judah.”
There was chatter amongst the pilots as they all slid into position and accelerated at what would translate into fifteen-Gs of force if the craft they flew didn’t have advanced inertial dampers. A couple of minutes later, they’d mostly cleared the ongoing furball between CDF and League fighters.
“Reaper One, Fox Three,” Amir announced into his commlink as he settled in behind a pod and stroked the missile launch button. A heat-seeking missile sprang from the undercarriage of his fighter and roared away into the void. It tracked the hapless enemy boarding pod for a few seconds, then blew it to bits. “Splash one.” His voice was hard and cold. Each one they destroyed was eight fewer Leaguers on the Lion. “Switching to neutron cannons and closing in.”
Slow and relatively unmaneuverable, the boarding craft were easy pickings for the best space superiority fighters the Terran Coalition had to offer. What they lacked in ability, they made up for in sheer numbers. For each one Reapers took out, there were ten more in its place.
“Reaper One, guns, guns, guns.” Amir squeezed the trigger on his miniature neutron cannons, which was built into the flight stick. Pinpricks of light blue energy stabbed out and a moment later, connected with a pod. It exploded in a bright orange flash. He shifted to his right and fired again—yet another destroyed pod. All in all, the Phantoms managed to account for at least ninety enemies, according to the metrics provided by Amir’s HUD.
“Reaper flight, this is Lieutenant Taylor. Break off. We’re about to engage our automated point defense.”
Amir pulled back hard on his flight stick, angling the agile craft away from the Lion of Judah. “Understood and acknowledged, Lieutenant. May Allah protect you.”
“Thanks, Colonel. I think we’re going to need it.”
As Amir’s Phantom and the rest of the friendly squadrons moved off to rejoin the primary engagement with the League’s fighter forces, he found himself saying a short prayer in Arabic for his friends. Then adrenaline and combat focus took over, and the hunter continued searching for his next prey.
* * *
Deep in the bowels of the Lion of Judah, Alpha team had spent the last few minutes arming themselves and preparing for battle. Master Chief Gordan MacDonald cleared the action on his battle rifle and slid a magazine with armor-piercing bullets into the weapon. Around him, the rest of the team configured their guns at the same time.
Senior Chief Dennis Harrell, Alpha’s second in command, grunted as he picked up a mini-gun and locked it into his power armor suit. “I’m done with these Leaguer bastards. War, peace, war. Can’t they just make up their minds?”
“Pretty sure they have. War it is,” Petty Officer 1st Class Esmail Rostami, the team’s electronics expert, answered.
“It was a rhetorical question, Rostami.”
“I didn’t realize you knew how to spell ‘rhetorical,’ Senior Chief.”
Raucous laughter broke out across the five men. “Sick burn there,” MacDonald said with a grin on his face. “Now, let’s see about putting some burn on these League boarders.”
Chief Petty Officer Ibrahim Ahmad, whose power armor bore a patch for the Persian Republic and another for Christianity in the religion position, shook his head. “I had hoped the peace would last.” He, too, slammed a magazine into his rifle and ensured its proper function.
“Aw, come on, Ahmad. The only thing there is to do in life if you’re a Spacewalker is kicking down airlocks and blowing out hatches. It’s in our blood.”
Ahmad pursed his lips. “Perhaps, Master Chief. But I do not enjoy the thought of my son following in my footsteps because he must. Only if he chooses to.”
“Don’t go getting soft on us now,” the Spanish accented voice of Chief Petty Officer Amancio Mata—expert sniper—interjected. “Plenty of Leaguers left to kill.”
A voice cut into the banter between the team, as it issued from the helmet-mounted commlinks. “Alpha team, this is Colonel Demood. I understand you boys snuck onboard against orders.”
The men
glanced at one another with amused smirks. “That we did, Colonel,” MacDonald replied. “Going to put us in the brig?”
“Nah. I assume you heard the 1MC announcement?”
“Yeah. League’s sending some trash to sully our decks. We’re getting jacked up down here.”
“Good,” Calvin said, a tone of relief shining through his voice. “I need you on the bridge. I don’t have enough troops to secure both engineering and deck one. How far away is your team, Master Chief?”
“We can be there in fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Excellent. Godspeed, gentlemen. Demood out.”
Harrell snickered. “Gentlemen? Where?”
Everyone else laughed with him as they finished checking their weapons, attaching sidearms and grenades to their armor, and reviewing systems diagnostics. Once those were completed, they all snapped the faceplates of their helmets down, triggering the onboard HUDs.
“Well, let’s get going. I’ve got some fond memories of a certain cake eater,” MacDonald began. “It’d be a shame for her to get wasted by some piece of shit Leaguer.”
“Amen to that,” Ahmad replied.
“Okay, on me, Alpha. Double time!” MacDonald pointed his weapon in a safe position and led them out of the cargo bay at a run. The shudder of breaching pods hitting the hull told him the enemy was only moments away. So much for getting there in fifteen minutes.
* * *
“Realign the fuel injector matrix,” Hanson yelled from the second level of the Lion’s main engineering space. “The anti-matter feed is too hot!”
Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven Page 21