by Lee Guo
Yamato blinked. I can!
I do have a way!
Suddenly, Yamato began visualizing a series of events that might enable him to dig a hole into the fortress’s hull without having to blow off all the armor protecting the massive center.
He sat there, stunned. It was so simple — the idea of digging a hole through only one side of the fortress’s armor — that he wondered why he didn’t think of it earlier!
Yes… I can order my pulsar battlecruisers to concentrate their fire on one area of the enemy fortress — literally drilling a hole through the fortress’s armor using megaton pulsar blasts — eventually we’ll be able to damage the enemy fortress’s antimatter containment pods. My fighters can help, too, by precision bombing that one area of the fortress!
Brilliant!
The next task… naturally… was to pick which part of the fortress’s surface to begin drilling. He searched and searched and searched — for the easiest route to the enemy fortress’s antimatter containment pods, and found it!
“All units,” Yamato said on the fleet net, “switch your fire away from firing at the fortress’s entire body and target section —”
“— General, look!” said a bridge crewman.
Gods, what now? Yamato twisted his gaze away from the 3D fortress in front of him and looked at the main holomap. “No…” he said. “No!”
Concentrated enemy fire continued pouring into the human fortress Centauri’s Sorrow, damaging and gutting holes into its armor. After that much damage to its armor, eventually some of that enemy fire was able to penetrate the human fortress’s innermost compartments — much like what Yamato planned to do to the enemy fortress. Armor from the Centauri’s Sorrow splintered and blew away as grazers and tachyon pulse waves from the enemy’s whole fleet smashed into it.
Some of that fire penetrated so deep into the human fortress’s inner areas… that one of the fortress’s most heavily armored antimatter containment pods malfunctioned and lost containment. Antimatter met matter, and a massive fireball expanded from deep within. This self-fueled detonation then damaged other areas of the human fortress, such as other antimatter containment pods… in a cascade of self-ignited fury. Explosion after blinding-white explosion detonated within the Centauri’s Sorrow, damaging power flows, control areas, even the auxiliary and main bridge as well as the central computer. Within milliseconds, the first of two human star fortresses lost control of all functions and all weapons powered down.
The enemy did not give up.
Even more enemy fire poured into exposed sections of the fortress that had suddenly opened up due to earlier antimatter pod self-detonations. Eventually, some of this fire touched the human fortress’s most heavily guarded area — its main power core — and then the rest was history.
The human fortress Centauri’s Sorrow exploded in a titanic fireball that resembled a scene from hell. For one moment, it was whole, then the next it broke into three massive fragments that flew outward in three separate directions. Secondary detonations erupted on board each piece, creating a multi-kilometer wide fireworks display that would have brought fascination to any observer if not for the fact that humanity had suddenly lost 30% of its total firepower as well as 5,200 lives.
The enemy forces outside the wormhole immediately switched all their fire onto the second human star fortress — the Helvon’s Vengeance — and the process began once more…
Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, above the wormhole exit
It was utter devastation — but not a surprise. Yamato had known that the first fortress would fall eventually.
Fifty-two hundred human lives… dead in a heartbeat.
Yamato sat there in the stunned flag bridge, eyes gazing like everyone else at the fiery, burning debris field that had once been a 320 megaton human weapon of god. Then, he shouted, “Back to your duties, everyone. It’s not the end. We can still win this war!”
“Yes, sir,” said several bridge crewmen, as everyone returned to their work.
Moments later, Yamato saw Captain Rogers walk closer. There was sad and bitter frustration in the young man’s eyes. “What’s the plan now, sir?” whispered Rogers. “Do we still attack the enemy battle fortress?”
Yamato nodded. “I have an idea, Captain. Simply because we lost 30% of our total firepower doesn’t mean we’ve been rendered innocuous.”
Rogers brightened. “What’s your idea, sir?”
“Computer,” said Yamato, “Display the enemy battlefortress and highlight all sections related to armor.”
“Highlighting,” said the computer. “Displaying.”
The hologram of the enemy fortress in front of him changed appearances. This time, Yamato could see blue areas all over the enemy fortress. Every part of its outer layers was highlighted in blue. There was so much armor.
“Computer,” said Yamato, “calculate how many metric tons of armor in total the hostile star fortress has left on its body.”
“240 million metric tons,” said the computer.
“And how much is that compared to how much the fortress began with?” asked Yamato.
“We have destroyed 42% of its total armor mass, or roughly 160 million metric tons. The hostile fortress has 58% of its armor mass remaining.”
“Computer, estimate how long it will take for us to reach its antimatter containment pods if we were to concentrate our attack on only one area of the hostile fortress’s hull.”
“Please specify the direction of the incision.”
“At coordinates D18.”
“Processing… processing complete. It will take eight minutes to drill a hole through the hostile fortress’s body through that route.”
“I see,” smiled Captain Rogers. “It’s much better than firing at the fortress from every direction. But what if the fortress turns?”
“Then we turn with it,” said Yamato. “Our pulsar guns, except for the one mounted on the fortress Helvon’s Vengeance, are mobile.”
Hope filled Rogers’s eyes. The young man nodded. “Then let’s get to it, sir. Before we lose our second fortress as well.”
“Indeed,” said Yamato. He picked up the mic and began relaying the order to all units in his control.
Wing Commander’s Cockpit, Fighter 001, hovering outside the carrier Enterprise
“All wings,” said Yamato’s voice, “new tactics. Bomb the enemy star fortress at location D18 on its main body. If we concentrate our fire on that section, we’ll eventually be able to damage its antimatter storage pods deep inside. Godspeed!”
“Finally,” said Prey in Trevor’s helmet speakers. “An order that makes sense!”
Trevor silently nodded in his cockpit. It did make sense. Why on Earth no one else thought of it earlier… that didn’t make sense. Now that he thought about it, why on Earth did central command order everyone to bomb the hell out of the enemy fortress from every direction — and let its full complement of armor absorb the blows — instead of drilling an incision through only one part of its armor… that didn’t make sense, either.
But now that the order had finally been given. There was only one thing to do. Trevor cleared his throat. “Alright, Alpha Wing!” said Trevor on the wing-net. “Form up on me and let’s do this!”
“Yes, sir!” said all seven other members, new and old.
As Trevor waited for his wingmates to coalesce around him, he punched a series of commands into his computer. Immediately, the map display showed a diagram of the enemy battlefortress in skin-resolution detail. He saw the target area that he was ordered to attack — a section in between the 2nd and 3rd right arms on the center torso. It was a big target, and an easy one, too. And… as he glanced at it, it seemed like it was indeed the most-direct route to the enemy fortress’s power core.
While the fortress itself looked like a giant round amoeba — literally so because of all its ‘legs’ or protrusions on its body, each a point defense laser or shipkiller grazer — Trevor was certain th
at it wouldn’t be able to swat out all the flies that were about to swarm that one section of its body.
But what would happen if the enemy fortress realized what was about to happen? Would they try to move that one section out of the away?
No, thought Trevor. Nothing the fortress did would work against his nimble and agile fighter-bombers and that of the whole fighter force. His mark 9 starfury was much too quick for the fortress to prevent the inevitable from happening.
Easy peasy, thought Trevor, as he zoned his mind in on the target, and prepared himself for the route his wing would take to get there.
Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, above the wormhole exit
Yamato sat in his fleet commander’s chair. His fingers tapped his armrest impatiently.
Eight minutes is a long time to kill the enemy fortress. How much can the enemy accomplish against us in that amount of time?
Everything, his thoughts answered. Everything. So much can change within eight minutes.
Could the enemy easily devastate his second human fortress in that amount of time? Yamato twisted his head and peered at the display showing the shield gauge of the second human fortress. He sighed in relief. Its shields were at 76%.
Not bad. We have plenty of protection left.
He watched another wave of enemy tachyon pulses slam into the Helvon’s Vengeance. The second human fortress’s shields absorbed the blast — but — the shield saturation gauge went down by 6%. However, immediately, it climbed from 70% to 71% as its six mark-10 shield generators went to work. By the time the next wave of enemy tachyon pulses crashed into the human fortress’s shields again, the shield gauge was already replenished to 73%.
It was a slowly losing war of attrition, but how slow was it? As terrible the situation was, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Once his plan worked, the enemy battle fortress should be neutralized… in the same way his first star fortress was neutralized.
On that thought, Yamato watched as the first of many pulsar beam salvos slammed into the enemy fortress at position D18 on its center torso. White-hot detonations exploded on position D18, each creating a massive crater within those kilometers of plates of armor.
Ouch. But it wasn’t terrifyingly painful. Yet. The first wave of his fighters had yet to reach bombing range.
Yamato dug further into the damage his pulsar battlecruisers were causing. “Computer, enhance magnification of position D18 on the enemy fortress.”
“Enhancing. Displaying.”
One of the holodisplays. Position D18 looked like a giant wall with this magnification. Giant craters dotted the wall, and as more incoming human fire smashed into it, Yamato could see craters overlapping other craters — literally craters within craters.
Yamato nodded. That was what was supposed to happen.
As more pulsar beams smashed into that section, enemy armor blasted away from the center of those detonations. He could see gigantic pieces of metal shrapnel careening outward. What had been originally armor plates were now flying metal fragments.
“Computer, how much armor mass is now in position D18 compared to how many begin before we started targeting it?”
“Calculating,” said the computer. “Calculation complete. Position D18 now has 40 million metric tons of armor. It began with 44 million metric tons.”
“And how much damage is every one of our pulsar beams doing to its armor mass?”
“Each pulsar beam that is on target is removing roughly 28 kilotons of carbon nanofiber armor per blast.”
“Computer, you may close display.”
“Closing.”
He sat back, and sighed. Eight minutes was a long time. Worse, the enemy fleet could easily grow to a huge size in the time that his elements were concentrating on wearing down that fortress. Suddenly, he wanted to count exactly how many enemy ships were actually outside the wormhole.
His eyes scanned the holomap, and saw 20 enemy Shark-class battlecruisers and 11 Megastar-class superdreadnoughts accumulated so far. And more were coming out of the wormhole! All of them, except for the ones skirmishing with his plasma-armed capital ships, were firing on his sole remaining star fortress.
He glanced at the Helvon’s Vengeance’s shield meter and watched it drop to 68%. Hmm… the Helvon’s Vengeance is doing pretty good against all that weapon fire going into its shields. But the time is ticking…
On another thought, where are the enemy’s Titans? One of the most important laws of military combat is to concentrate your greatest firepower together. Those Titans ought to have come out the moment that fortress came out. So where are they?
Suddenly, Yamato came to a revelation. The enemy didn’t have any Titans! Surely, they would have come out by now if there were any.
If only that were true!
But why would the enemy not concentrate any of their industrial production on producing more Titans in the period after the 9th battle of Alpha Centauri?
Perhaps they knew how easily humans could counter their Titans’ TPCs and were refitting those Titans with better TPCs and shields, and that’s why they’re not here for the Battle of Sol…
If so, then great! The moment Yamato destroyed the enemy’s sole star fortress, there would be no more enemy units equipped with TPCs!
But, Yamato bit his lip, can the enemy still win the exit engagement even if they lost their fortress?
Calculating, he realized that if his plan worked, then by the time the enemy fortress went down, the enemy would have 30 to 28 battlecruisers and 15-16 superdreadnoughts. That was a ton of firepower against his five pulsar-class battlecruisers and whatever remained of his plasma-armed capital ships.
Yamato thought hard, and realized that he wouldn’t be able to destroy all of them without letting go of the territory around the wormhole exit. He wouldn’t have a chance unless he gave up the exit. If he remained, his forces would be utterly annihilated. That meant that the enemy would eventually have free roam to enter Sol and harass its industrial centers… at least for some time.
And that was an equation that didn’t factor in any of the enemy’s unseen missiles and missile ships.
Yamato frowned… suddenly realizing that he was facing a far more uphill battle than the one he thought, and that his odds of winning were becoming even more lopsided against him very soon…
Wing Commander’s Cockpit, Fighter 001, on an attack run on position D18 of the enemy fortress
Dance, baby. Dance!
Trevor moved his fighter up, down, left, right, in an almost seemingly random pattern, but inwardly, he knew that he was dancing the perfect dance. After so many of these bombing runs, he could almost sense where the next enemy point defense grazer beam was about to pass through. It was a skill acquired through so many trials, and he knew every member of his fighter wing also knew how, if not consciously, then unconsciously. The maneuver defied all logic. It was music.
And so he danced the perfect dance.
Inside the cockpit, he watched the Wing health display, and saw with approval as each member was still in the blue. The elite fighters within his Wing all had fully operational shields, and their hulls were undamaged.
Ahead, he glanced at the massive 8-kilometer wide target that was the enemy star fortress, displayed in such a skin-precision detail on his targeting monitor. It had succumbed to a massive wallop of pulsar beam crashes right on the target point that fleet commander Yamato had designated as ‘position D18’. Craters appeared within craters at position D18 on its outer hull, and soon, Trevor knew, those craters would be joined with even more craters when the vast squadrons of human fighter wings reached their target coordinates to unleash their bombs… including his Wing.
Trevor bit his lips. Let’s hope this works. We’ve been fighting that enemy fortress for eons at the cost of not damaging the enemy’s fleet. It’s about time we take that damn thing down!
On the monitor, he watched as closer and closer, the distance between his wing and the fortress sho
rtened. Almost time to unload our bombs…
“I’m hit!” yelled Rogue’s voice.
Trevor jerked his head towards the wing display monitor, and saw damage registered onto some of the eight members of his wing.
Damn, Diamond’s shields have gone down to 50%. So has Mace’s. Hotshot’s shields are now at 30%. And as for Rogue’s…
Trevor shrugged, he knew as his wing got closer, naturally the enemy fortress’s point defense lasers became more accurate. It was inevitable, and he only hoped that all his greenies — well, not greenies anymore — would survive the bombing run. His only salvation was the fact that the enemy’s point defense beams would have to be distributed among all the various human wings that were about to enter the fortress’s point defense weapons’ range.
With that thought, he looked at the battlemap display and — wow! — he was amazed at how many human fighters there were crammed into this little section of the battlefield. All of them were on the same trajectory with the same plan of attack, and he was amazed at the density of human fighters — each a combatant — that were about to launch their bombs on that small section of the enemy fortress. There must have been… over 800 human fighters crammed into this small area alone!
Man, if I were the enemy commander, I would put every ship I have within point defense laser range to shoot any human fighter that is about to bomb position D18! Of course, I’m not the enemy commander, and who knows how the Argonans think.
He looked at the battlemap again and saw how the various Argonan ships were still spread out outside the wormhole exit. It looked like they haven’t reacted to the new human plan to take down the enemy fortress through concentrated strikes against one section of its armor. And he wondered why…
Maybe… the enemy is slow… maybe…
Clunk! — A disconcerting sound vibrated throughout his cockpit. Trevor stirred out of his contemplation, and his eyes immediately gazed at his own shield gauge. 20% shield saturation, god damn it!