Battle of Sol

by Lee Guo

  But thousands penetrated through — each missile sped through the wall of point defense fire and slammed into their targets — enemy capital ships. Worse, since the enemy capital ships had been moved in front of the enemy fortress instead of hiding behind the fortress’s point defense beams and cannons, more human missiles were able to reach the enemy’s capital ships.

  Each missile that hit on target detonated their full compliment of antimatter and blasted all 20 megatons of their destructive energy on the enemy’s ships. From the human vantage point on board human ships, these detonations appeared as ultra-bright blinking explosions that created superhot expanding waves of plasma. This white hot energy tore into the enemy’s ships, roasting and splintering layers of armor, penetrating into the deeper compartments of the vessel, killing machinery and enemy crew alike.

  Out of the 38,000 human missiles that began the attack, only 9,000~ made it into detonation range, but those 9,000 were able to utterly obliterate 8 enemy battlecruisers and 4 enemy superdreadnoughts. The ships that the 9,000 human missiles did not kill were severely damaged, to the point where a good portion of their weapon blisters malfunctioned.

  The enemy was left with 12 Shark-class battlecruisers and 6 Megastar-class superdreadnoughts functioning outside the wormhole exit.

  Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, above the wormhole exit

  Not bad. Yamato smiled while gazing at the Argonan Star Fortress on the holomap. If only those missiles could have done that much damage to that star fortress, I would have used them on it.

  But they wouldn’t have. That much I know.

  He scanned the remaining enemy capital ships above the wormhole. That missile wave of ours should keep the enemy capital ship numbers sedated for a while… at least until hordes more capital ships come out of that exit.

  Yamato gazed at the display showing his missile numbers. I have no more missiles…

  How much I wish I had a thousand more missiles. Damn the president. Damn him!

  Yamato sighed, and returned his concentration at the holomap.

  The situation now had become slightly better. With less enemy capital ships, less enemy firepower attacked the Centauri’s Sorrow. The Centauri’s Sorrow’s shields were now only in the single digits. Yamato tried imagining how desperate the human fortress was in attempting to regenerate its shield matrix using its six mark-10 shield generators. He had seen how its shield saturation went up after being heavily damaged each time by the enemy star fortress’s tachyon pulses… only to go down again in the enemy’s next volley. It was a tug-of-war battle, and a losing one. Soon, Yamato imagined that the human star fortress would lose its shields completely, and if that happened…

  He shook his head, utter devastation.

  Desperate choices…

  As its shield meter dropped from 9% to 8%, Yamato wondered what in the gods’ names could he do to prevent that.

  He searched his mind. He had no more his missiles. All his fortresses and ships were firing on the enemy star fortress, except for his Warhammers and Artemises. All his bombers were being refueled and reloaded... His stationary laser turrets were gone.

  What if he stopped attacking the enemy star fortress altogether? — and reconcentrated his firepower on the enemy’s capital ships?

  No… if he did that, then the enemy star fortress would definitely not be destroyed and it was the enemy star fortress that made the biggest damage to the Centauri’s Sorrow’s shields every six seconds.

  Yamato shook his head. He could think of nothing.

  The only solution was to hope in some impossible outcome that his units could destroy the enemy battlestation before it destroyed his.

  Hmmm… “Computer, analyze the enemy star fortress’s armor mass. How much total armor mass does it have left?”

  “Analyzing,” said the computer. “The hostile star fortress has 81% armor mass remaining.”

  That’s it? After all our firing and bombing runs, the enemy star fortress only lost 20%? “Computer, how many metric tons of armor does the hostile star fortress have left on its body?”

  “320 million metric tons of armor.”

  “And how many have our weapons blasted off?”

  “80 million metric tons.”

  “Computer, estimate how long it will take for us to destroy the enemy star fortress and how long it will take for the enemy to destroy the Centauri’s Sorrow.”

  “Too many unknown variables.”

  “Such as?” asked Yamato, curiously.

  “It is unknown how the hostile star fortress’s internal unarmored compartments will react to our fire. It is unknown how much of the hostile star fortress’s armor must be destroyed before our fire can damage critical areas of its internal structure. It is unknown how the Centauri’s Sorrow’s armor will react to the hostile star fortress’s tachyon pulses. It is unknown how the Centauri’s Sorrow’s armor will react to enemy grazer beams.”

  I see. “Thank you, computer.”

  Yamato sat there, puzzled. What do I do?

  He closed his eyes and searched his mind. We can’t overwhelm its armor. It has too much armor. We can’t target a specific area of its body that will neutralize the fortress’s threat… like its tachyon pulse cannons, because they are now shielded. But wait! What if we overwhelm its shields? Then we can destroy the TCP inside!

  Yamato opened his eyes. Suddenly, there was hope. “Computer, scan the shield generators protecting its TCPs, analyze and show its current saturation and its overall total strength.”

  “Scanning,” said the computer. “The shields protecting the hostile fortress’s tachyon pulse cannons are equivalent to our mark 8 shield generators in total defensive power. Currently, each shield matrix surrounding each tachyon pulse cannon is at 90-92% saturation.”

  Interesting. Yamato caressed his chin with his hand. Interesting, indeed.

  He closed his eyes and began formulating a plan to take down that hostile star fortress. Whether or not it would succeed before the Centauri’s Sorrow was destroyed was completely up to fate.

  Wing Commander’s Cockpit, Fighter 001, rearming inside the Enterprise, above the wormhole exit

  “Bomber groups A through L,” said Yamato’s voice in Trevor’s helmet speakers, “attack the shields protecting the hostile battlefortress’s tachyon pulse cannons. When the enemy TCPs’ shields fail, strike the tachyon pulse cannons themselves. Godspeed.”

  “You hear that, boss?” said Hotshot. “We’re gonna try bombing those TCPs, again!”

  “I heard that. Everyone else got it, too?” said Trevor. Then, without waiting, he said, “Ok, here’s the plan. Instead of bombing all three TCPs, and thus spreading our fire, we’re all gonna bomb one in an attempt to penetrate its shields. You all get that? We strike all our bombs on only one of the enemy TCPs’ shields in an attempt to overwhelm it. I imagine 12 other wings will be doing the same thing.”

  “Yes, sir!” the replies from his wingmates came back.

  Sitting inside his cockpit, Trevor grinned. It was a good plan, he thought. It was something he ought to have thought of first. He couldn’t wait to overwhelm those shields.

  He glanced outside his cockpit through a window and saw the weapon crews rearming his bombs. “Hurry up!” he yelled. “I got a star fortress to bomb!”

  “We’re going as fast we can, Sandy!” the maintenance leader yelled back.

  Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, above the wormhole exit

  Yamato sat in the fleet command chair, glancing at the holo display showing the Centauri’s Sorrow’s shield fall to 4%.

  Damn. Whatever I do, I got to do it fast!

  He thought about his plan some more, and then decided to go through with it. I hope this works… I’m diverting a massive amount of firepower.

  He pushed a button. A channel opened to all his forces. “All star fortresses and pulsar class battlecruisers, aim your primary weapons — your pulsar guns — at the enemy fortress’s thre
e tachyon pulse cannons. Since the enemy star fortress is moving slowly, accuracy per shot should not be a problem. Our fleet’s pulsar beams should be able to hit their TPCs. In the event we overwhelm the shields protecting a particular TPC, time your pulsar shots so that it hits that particular TPC at the exact moment it fires. We will, hopefully, cause the enemy’s TPCs to blow the enemy star fortress in the same way we destroyed the enemy Titans in the ninth battle of Alpha Centauri. If it doesn’t, we will simply neutralizes the enemy’s TPCs, and that’s fine also. Either way, we will hopefully eliminate the enemy star fortress’s main weapon.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said.

  Yamato nodded. Gods, I hope this works. Those shields protecting those TCPs can’t be that powerful. After all, the enemy has only started copying our shields. Certainly, there must be chinks and flaws in their design since they’ve only had one month to put them into service… they cannot be as strong as ours, can they?

  He glanced again at the Centauri’s Sorrow’s shields and saw that it was now at 3%. Gods, this better work. Time is running out!

  Wing Commander’s Cockpit, Fighter 001, on route towards the enemy star fortress

  “All members of Alpha Wing, move on the proper flight path so you can bomb the TPC at the bottom left!” shouted Trevor Gray into the net. “Let’s strike hard and let’s strike fast!”

  “Yes, sir!” said the remaining five members of Alpha Wing.

  Trevor watched on the navigation map as everyone in his Wing zoomed at 0.65 light speed towards their destination — that enemy star fortress. All the while, the enemy star fortress was shooting back with its point defense cannons at all the other fighter-bombers that were heading in the same direction — each with the same mission.

  He saw as dozens of fighters from other wings were taken down by the enemy fortress’s point defense lasers and particle flak rounds. Bam! Bam! Bam! He could almost imagine the screaming on the other Wing nets as each bird was shot down — despite their erratic maneuvers — their dancing.

  “Alright boys,” said Trevor into his Wing net, “we’re entering the fortress’s point defense envelope. Start dancing… NOW!”

  “Yes, sir!” his wingmates said.

  Trevor maneuvered his bird so that he started dancing erratically himself — up, down, left, right — in an attempt to make it hard for the enemy fortress’s computers to target him, and on the map display, he saw all other five members of his Wing doing the same thing, hundreds of kilometers away.

  On the main map, he watched with anticipation as other Wings ahead of him began bombing runs on the fortress’s tachyon pulse cannons. He could see everything clearly, because his bird’s sensors saw everything less than 60,000 kilometers away. Not only that, but he saw the destructive explosions as pulsar beams from human fortresses and pulsar class battlecruisers crashed into the enemy TPCs. The enemy shields surrounding each TPC flared crimson and yellow in the aftermath of these impacts as what must have been thousands of megatons of TNT in terms of destructive energy met each shield.

  He saw as Beta Wing, commanded by his friend Mark ‘Maniac’ Styles, unleashed their short range missiles with 500 megaton of explosive energy at the enemy TPCs, followed by other birds from other Wings. And he saw — what was that? — one of the TPCs’ shields buckled under all that firepower, and the missiles from one bird smashed into the TPC unblocked.

  A gigantic explosion appeared on top of the TPC and when the massive flash dissipated, the TPC was still there!

  “Alright boys,” announced Trevor on the Wing net, “we got here late, but we’re gonna be the ones that take out those TPCs for good. You all saw how ineffective a 500 megaton bomb does to an unshielded TPC when it’s not firing. The bomb is a waste. So what we’re going to do is simple. We’re gonna time our bombs so they explode right when the TPC fires. It’s a piece of cake. Everyone programmed your bombs to do just that? Sensor data shows that TPC fires every 6.08 seconds, so time it right when it fires at the end of 6.08 seconds! Let’s do this! Glory awaits us!”

  “Yes, sir!” said Hotshot.

  “Yes, sir!” said Grim.

  “Yes, sir!” said the remaining members of Alpha Wing.

  Closer… and closer, his fighter came to the enemy target. Trevor glanced at his bomb status panel and approvingly saw that all four short-ranged missiles were already preprogrammed. He then looked on the minimap and saw that he was less than 2,000 kilometers away from the enemy star fortress.

  He waited and waited… and then slammed the release button. “Missiles away!” he said into the Wing net.

  “Missiles away!” said the other members of his Wing.

  He watched as a group of 16 perfectly-timed missiles gushed forward and slammed the unshielded TPC array. They hit right at the end of the 6.08 second interval since the TPC last fired… and 16 massive explosions blinked ahead of him — right on target!

  And… the TPC was still there! There were craters all over its body, but the whole structure still remained there, and so was the area around the TPC. Nothing on the star fortress got demolecularized!

  “What the hell?” yelled Hotshot.

  “The TPC didn’t fire when we thought it would!” said Rogue. “We timed our bombs wrong!”

  “Shit!” said Trevor. What to do? What to do? “Everyone get out of here! Don’t get hit by the fortress’s point defense!”

  “Wait!” interjected Grim. “I haven’t fired yet. I still have my bombs.”

  “Why —” said Trevor.

  “I thought the TPC might not fire on time,” said Grim. “That’s why I didn’t release my bombs… you guys get out of here! I’m gonna try something funky!”

  Trevor shook his head. “Don’t try anything crazy, Grim. Stay alive. That’s an order.”

  “I know. You guys go,” said Grim.

  Trevor manipulated his fighter, so that along with the other 3 members of his wing, he began speeding out of the point defense kill-zone of the enemy fortress. On the map, he watched as Grim stayed behind, hovering about 2,000 kilometers on top of the enemy fortress. “Grim, what are you going to do?” asked Trevor on the wing net.

  “I’m waiting… until I can time the shot perfectly. The TPC already fired once again two seconds ago, so it should be about —” Grim’s transmission suddenly cut off.

  “Grim!” yelled Trevor. “Get out of there! Release your bombs and get out of there!”

  There was no response.

  When he gazed at his Wing health display, he saw that Grim’s fighter had already faded to black.

  Damn! Damn it all! We lost another one! I lost another one!

  Trevor slammed his gloved fist into the instrument panel. No! No!

  What Trevor did not want to think, could not think, was… because he wanted to be like me. He died because he wanted to be like me.

  It would be a sad, distraught journey back to the fleet carrier — to rearm for the next attack, whatever that might be…

  Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, above the wormhole exit

  Yamato eyes stared wide open at the perfectly functioning enemy star fortress on the holomap. The enemy battlestation was still there! Gods, its TPCs took the blows of squadrons of fighters’ antimatter bombs… and didn’t self-detonate or self-demolecurize its entire mainframe. Instead, they still functioned perfectly!

  How?

  Why didn’t the star fortress blow up like the Titans from the previous battle a month ago?

  Inwardly, he knew the answer. The enemy TPCs, despite becoming unshielded, had simply fired when it wasn’t being struck by fighter bombs or pulsar beams. Somehow, someway, the TPCs detected when a bomb or a pulsar beam was about to hit, and simply stopped firing the moment the bombs or beams hit… and then fired in the interval right after.

  But how did the enemy know exactly when a bomb or pulsar beam would hit?

  And even more puzzling was why each TPC still remained there — fully functional — after all that firepower ha
d smashed into it. What was it made of? How was it capable of withstanding so much gigatons of TNT? If it were normal carbon nanofiber armor, the TPC itself certainly would have been utterly destroyed after that much devastation. Even carbon nanofiber armor couldn’t withstand so much firepower…

  So many mysteries.

  Yamato didn’t know what to do... or even where to start.

  And then he unfroze. “Captain,” said Yamato, “I need your mind for a moment.”

  The red-headed Captain Rogers took his gaze off the holomap, and walked to Yamato’s command seat. “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you know how the Argonans are able to time their TPC perfectly so they don’t fire when our weapons hit them?”

  Captain Rogers gazed at the holomap, then back at Yamato. “Well, sir,” he said. “I can easily explain how they’re able to know when a fighter bomb is about to hit. But as for how they know when our pulsar beam is on the way, I can only guess.”

  “Explain,” said Yamato eagerly.

  “Well, it’s simple really,” said Rogers. “They know when our fighters’ missiles are about to hit through radar scanning. Since our bombs move at 0.65 c, and since radar operates at 1 c, they’ll have time to react to our missiles by not firing the TPC at the moment of predicted impact.”

  “I see,” said Yamato. “And as for how they know when our pulsar beams are coming?”

  “That requires some assumptions,” said Rogers. “Basically, the enemy has to have some type of faster-than-light scanning system since our pulsar beams move at the speed of light. It is likely that they do have such a system. After all, they have a weapon that can move at 4 c. Why not have scanners that also move at 4 c?”

  “I see,” said Yamato.

  “It’s the best explanation I can give, sir. I doubt our main computer can do better.”