Battle of Sol

by Lee Guo

  Speaking of which, is it time for our second fighter-bomber strike? His eyes then fell on all the enemy warships that surrounded D18. Gosh, that’s a lot of anti-fighter screens. Should I launch my second wave of fighters at D18? Won’t it be asking them to commit suicide?

  He frowned. Yet… if I don’t, we won’t stand a chance at taking out the fortress. I have to launch the attack. The wellbeing of every human within the system depends on it.

  His eyes gazed at his fighters, now fully assembled outside of each respective carrier. It was time. “All fighters,” he commanded on the Wing nets, “begin the 2nd attack on D18! Godspeed!”

  Wing Commander’s Cockpit, Fighter 001, second bombing run

  “Holy motherfucking shit, that’s a lot of anti-fighter defenses!” yelled Hotshot on the wing net. “Sandy, you sure that’s what the fleet commander said? You sure, he’s not out of his mind?”

  Trevor paused. He knew what he should say, what he was always said, which was that all members of his wing ought to follow orders, that the fleet commander, no matter how blatantly dangerous the order, was a rational being, and knew what was best for the overall strategic view. But this time he couldn’t help but think that it was utter suicide. But damn it, that fortress!

  It took Trevor much longer this time to reply. “Do it,” he said, finally. “Form up on me, everyone. Let’s go. Maintain standard evasive flying and keep your head clear. Make sure your bombs are on target.”

  When all his wing members did so, he said, “Boost.”

  On the map display, he saw the other 760 fighter-bombers had already either began moving, or were in the process of forming up for the attack.

  Gods, I hope we survive this one, he prayed.

  Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, evasively maneuvering above the wormhole exit

  “Computer,” said Yamato, “how much armor have we destroyed from D18. What is the progress of our attack towards the enemy fortress’s power core?”

  “We have destroyed 24 million tons of armor. D18 still has 20 million tons of armor protecting its structure and the route to its power core.”

  “I see,” said Yamato, switching his gaze nervously at a display showing the shields of all his pulsar class battlecruisers.

  Damn, the Infinity is at 80%. The Mecklenburg is at 76%. Ours is at 64%. The Horang is at 82%. And the Viceroy is at 72%.

  Which, all in all, isn’t that bad, considering the amount of enemy fire that is raining down against our pulsars. Not all of that is hitting us, because we’re evasively sliding. And it also goes to show that the new mark 9 shield generators work very efficiently, both in terms of total damage that it can absorb and the rate in which it can replenish the matrix.

  Yamato then switched his gaze at his remaining Artemises and Warhammers. After so much combat, he had only 6 Artemises left and — to his astonishment — only 1 warhammer. That meant he had only 12 capital ships left, including his 5 pulsars.

  As for the total number of human ships overall, he had 18 smaller destroyer class ships and 12 frigates, raising his total non-carrier ship count to 42 ships. Yamato then switched his gaze a little further out, at all the carriers positioned outside the main battle. He sighed in relief. He still had all 16 carriers — but the main problem was that he only had 760 fighter-bombers. Each carrier could carry as much as 200 fighters.

  But that shouldn’t be a problem once we restock with new fighters when we rendezvous the carrier fleet with Mars fighter base.

  Still, that meant in terms of total ship count he had only 58 ships.

  Damn, that’s not a lot. Yamato worried.

  Then his gaze switched to the enemy combatants. How many enemy ships were left?

  Yamato thought he already knew, but his eyes widened anyway. So much! There was so much he didn’t even want to think of it. And during all this fighting, even more enemy ships made transit through wormhole. Yamato felt awed at the enemy star nation’s manufacturing capacity. They must have expanded their capacity while they were destroying ours!

  How the HELL are we going to defeat that?

  Piece by piece, his thoughts answered. It’s the only way.

  But will we survive even if we somehow — in a blue moon miracle — smash this force the enemy has sent at our home system?

  Suddenly, Yamato thought about President Lauren’s advice to give up. And then he shook his head furiously. No, I won’t think about that. Not while everything is on the line. Not when the fate of all humans within the universe is on the line.

  Yet… a little voice inside him yelled… if we don’t, we risk the annihilation of everything!

  Gods, what do I do?

  What does the future have in store for us?

  He watched as his flagship’s shields went down even further, as did the shields of all his ships — for those that still had shields.

  Time will tell.

  Wing Commander’s Cockpit, Fighter 001, second bombing run

  “Everyone, dance! NOW!” yelled Trevor.

  “Yes, sir!” replied all seven other members within his wing.

  He saw his wing members on his map display. And then he saw the enemy. By the star gods, there was so much. He had never flown into an enemy concentration this dense before!

  The enemy’s warships are all trying to protect D18, and we’re all thrusting ourselves right into their maw!

  Trevor had a hint that he might not see the next bombing run after this one, but he tried to push the thought away. He couldn’t. No matter how cavalier he knew he was, he knew he might die — there was always that chance. Yet, he also knew that he had survived every dangerous sortie until now. He knew he had the skills to accompany his arrogant attitude, but there was always that chance — that chance! And it was never as high as it was now.

  Concentrate, Trevor Gray. I’m the flyboy from Praxis V!

  On the map, he saw a grazer beam pass by, inches away from his fighter’s dorsal fin. He instantly dodged away from his position, clearly aware that the next beam missed him but passed through where he had been. Damn, that was close.

  Then there was another — then another!

  Damn! The density of the enemy’s point defense fire! It’s never been this —

  A sudden crash sounded throughout his cockpit. The vibration spread throughout his body, and he knew his fighter had been hit. His body thrashed against his seat restraints, and he felt like a doll within the caress of a violent child’s temper tantrum.

  Yet… he was still alive.

  He instantly glanced at his shield saturation display, and saw it was down to its low 30s. Then he instinctively glanced at his Wing health display. Others in his wing didn’t fare so well.

  Gods damn it, it’s going to be a miracle if we make it out of this one! Half of my wing has already lost their shields!

  And suddenly, he heard screaming on the net.

  “— Ahhhhhhhhh,” yelled Mirage.

  “Mirage, babe,” said Rogue. “You’re dancing right into their firing zone! Pull up! Pull up!”

  There was silence from Mirage’s fighter. No response.

  Trevor didn’t need to look at the Wing health display to know that Mirage’s icon had turned black.

  “Fuck!” said Hotshot. “Mirage was my soulmate twice last month! I thought we were getting somewh —”

  Silence.

  “Hotshot?” said Trevor. He gazed at Hotshot’s fighter icon and saw that it had turned red — meaning that there was damage to her fighter. “Hotshot, you have permission to abandon the bombing run! Abort!”

  More silence.

  “No can do, sir,” said Hotshot’s voice, finally. “I’ve lost my forward drive ring. I can only move at 50%. I’m a goner. I can’t even slide sideways even if I wanted to. I’ll try to attract some of their shots. But my shields are kaput.” A clang sounded from Hotshot’s line.

  Trevor knew that Hotshot was a sitting duck. Without being able to move sideways, her fighter had lost its m
ain defensive advantage. “Hotshot…” said Trevor.

  Another clang sounded through the net. When he glanced once more at the Wing health display, Hotshot’s fighter was now dark red. It was bright red before.

  “Hotshot!” said Rogue. “Sandy, tell her to utilize her inertial stabilizers. Maybe she can create a dampening field that will enable her fighter to slide sideways, maybe —”

  “— Oh god, oh god,” said Hotshot, “my fighter can’t take anymore! Sandy, this is goodb—”

  Blackness. Her icon fell into total blackness. Hotshot was dead.

  Trevor was silent for some time — in a battle, that amount of time was a near eternity. He didn’t say anything even while he unconsciously dodged the incoming grazer beams. He didn’t even care too much when he got hit a second time, which took his shields to 0. And then he awoke from that trance. “Everyone,” he said, “fire your bombs the moment we get within range and then get the hell out! I don’t want to see another one of us die. There’s been too much death already. We… WILL… NOT… DIE! I will NOT allow you to die.”

  The moment he said it, the moment he knew his words were lies. He had no control over his Wing’s survival. The bombing run had barely reached 40% of the total distance, forward and back. Once they unleashed their bombs at the fortress, they still had to get out — out of the fortress’s and the enemy fleet’s point defense envelope. There were more deaths coming to his wing. Much more. And Trevor wanted to scream, because he knew he could do nothing to stop it from happening.

  Flag Bridge, Federation Battlecruiser Carpathia, above the wormhole exit, still moving in concert with the enemy fortress’s rotation

  On the holomap, Yamato watched the entire fighter strike on D18. His fighters were being annihilated. Dozens of birds fell each second — their respective icons blinking off the map. It looked exactly like the computer’s prediction. He would lose half of his 800 fighters by the time all fighters exited the enemy’s point defense envelopes.

  The only good thing was that the bombs hit. The fighter bombs, in concert with his pulsar beams, blasted section D18 to smithereens. Argonan armor blew off with each miniature sun-like detonation.

  Yet… as the bombing run progressed, Yamato wondered whether the whole war was even winnable. If the enemy could create weapons like this, and protect them with armor that required this much punishment to take out, and to be able to do it on a scale shown through their minesweeper dreadnoughts, Titans, and mobile fortress — was it even possible to defeat them when it came to taking the fight to their home systems — provided this battle was somehow won?

  That… would require some type of leap of faith in human technology and battle tactics — some type of new weapon had to exist that Yamato didn’t even have as of right now. A new generation of human weapons had to be developed so t they could compensate for current enemy defensive capabilities. And all this had to happen while humanity was taking on the onslaught to its home system.

  Was it even possible? Was it realistic?

  An old idea approached Yamato, something that he found so abhorrent. Yamato thought — that if all else failed in this battle — he would surrender rather than see Earth annihilated. It had to be his last option, if all else failed…

  Yamato frowned, feeling disgusted. That’ll be the day. Maybe if all else failed, and Earth looks like it’ll be destroyed, I might… I might…

  I can’t condemn the entire planet and all its population to death because of my ego and my will, can I? At least this way, I can fight knowing that all the humans on the planet won’t be exterminated.

  … But will the enemy accept my surrender? Will they not blow up the planet anyway, like they did to all the others?

  I don’t know, damn it! Better to make sure that we don’t reach that point, that we try our best to repel the invaders from our system.

  And that means I have to make the best decisions when it comes time.

  That’s right, Harvey. Concentrate on one thing at a time. This battle!

  He looked at the holomap, again. The swarm of human fighters were just about finished with section D18. The computer predictions were correct. They had suffered extreme casualties coming in, and it looked like the same coming out. But the good news was that D18 had also suffered extreme damage. The cavity in its armor was now massive.

  But… was it enough? Was he making enough progress on D18 with his fighters? Would he have to be forced to throw a third bombing run at D18, where his fighters would be thrown into the maw of the enemy fleet, again?

  And was the combined attack from both his fighters and his pulsar guns doing damage fast enough? Or would the enemy fortress still exist as a powerful threat… even after his fighters lost all their numbers to enemy point defense beams after a third and fourth bombing run… and even after his pulsars lost their shields and were forced to retreat?

  Times like this, I’m glad I have the computer.

  “Computer,” asked Yamato, “what is the current damage status of D18? How many tons of armor have we destroyed and how much is left?”

  “Calculating…” said the computer. “Position D18 of the enemy fortress has lost a total of 32 million metric tons of armor out of 44 million metric tons.”

  “I see. How much has the second bombing run destroyed?”

  “Our second fighter wave has destroyed 5 million metric tons.”

  “Ok. Now answer this, computer. Can you predict how much more time our pulsar class battlecruisers can continue firing on D18 before suffering shield depletion by the incoming fire from the enemy capital ships sent to attack our pulsar-classes?”

  “Calculating… our pulsar-class battlecruisers have roughly 3 more minutes before they must retreat according to your parameters.”

  Now here’s the main question. It all comes down to this. “Computer, will we do enough damage on position D18 so that we damage the enemy fortress’s power core before our pulsars are forced to retreat due to shield depletion and before our fighter numbers become negligible due to fighter losses?”

  “Calculating,” said the computer. “Calculation complete. The answer is negative.”

  “Why?” said Yamato.

  The computer continued, “Because, even while evasively sliding, the shields on all five pulsar-class battlecruisers will not be able to hold long enough to finish cutting through D18. Because of that, we will be forced to rely on our fighters to bomb D18, but the numbers of our fighters will be wilted down into negligible numbers after the fifth bombing run. The incision on D18 will be forever incomplete.”

  Yamato blinked. Damn! Damn it! “What… what if we keep our pulsar battlecruisers firing on D18 even after their shields deplete?”

  “That would not be advisable.”

  Yamato thought about it. No, it would not. I can’t risk losing my pulsars by forcing them to fire on D18 even after shield depletion. If I lose my pulsars, there’s no way I can kill off all those enemy warships. The pulsars are my wild card. They can fire on enemy assets from outside of the maximum firing range of any enemy weapon.

  He blinked, again, thinking hard. I can’t believe it! After all this time… all this struggle… to take down that fortress, both before and after D18, and we have to give up??? All that fire on the fortress… a complete waste???

  How can the universe be this unfortunate? Yamato blinked once more. And did I make the worst mistake in the entire battle by focusing my fire on the fortress?

  He shook his head. I almost want to ignore the computer’s calculations and continue firing at the fortress. Damn it! Only 12 million metric tons left! So close!

  Yet… if I do that, I risk… no, I ensure… that my pulsar classes will face destruction, including my flagship.

  So… damn! All that work for nothing!

  Yamato sighed and caressed his chin. So now what?

  He reclined his body on his command chair. There seems to be only one option left — stop attacking the enemy fortress altogether. That means I can final
ly withdraw my pulsar-classes out of weapon’s range of the enemy’s capital ships sent to attack them. As for my fighters… I suppose they can bomb a different target that’s not D18 and destroy that. And as for my sole remaining star fortress… well…

  So, once again, I condemn another five thousand souls to death. I suppose it’s not as bad as it seems, since I’ve already lost 600 billion… but, damn, those are five thousand extremely well trained crews that are not replaceable in a war at this stage.

  Once again, the enemy succeeded in chipping away at me.

  He shook his head. In other words, I pretty much have to give up the battle of the wormhole exit. I knew, based on the enemy’s warship numbers, that I had to give up the wormhole exit eventually, but what mattered was taking out as many enemies before that happened. And to do that, I had to destroy the enemy fortress and keep both of mine alive — which isn’t possible now — so I guess that optimistic outcome won’t be happening…

  Yamato bit his lips. Damn it!

  He pressed a button that opened up the command channel to all his units, and began relaying orders.

  The war raged above the wormhole exit.

  As Yamato’s orders trickled down the command chain, the enemy witnessed much of the human forces acting differently. No longer were any pulsar beams crashing into position D18. The human fighters, on the other hand, did not act any different than they did before… but that was because they hadn’t reached that point. All 386 fighters went back to their carriers to rearm for the next strike, which would be different.

  The human pulsar class battlecruisers changed actions immediately. Each pulsar engaged in maximum backward sliding so that they sped as far away from the enemy ships that were sent to attack them. Meanwhile, their forward main pulsar guns slammed round after round of pulsar beams into the nearest enemy ship. Enemy ships that had previously been too close to the human pulsars now found themselves being slammed by pulsar beams at point blank range.