The Lost Command (Lost Starship Series Book 2)

by Heppner, Vaughn

  Fortunately, the laws of motion meant the enemy ships finally came within Star Watch range. The New Men had built up their velocity high enough that they couldn’t turn away that easily.

  “Now!” shouted Fletcher. “Let’s start pounding their ships!”

  A loud thrum vibrated the deck plates under Fletcher’s feet. Battleship Antietam’s engines revved at full power, giving the laser coils the needed wattage. The main cannons targeted a star cruiser. A new whiny sound indicated the first shot.

  On the viewing screen, heavy lasers speared into space. More joined in from other Star Watch vessels.

  The Fifth Fleet still possessed all seventeen Bismarck and Gettysburg-class battleships. They were substantially bigger than the enemy’s star cruisers. They used powerful heavy-mount lasers.

  As the two fleets closed, it quickly became apparent that the New Men’s shields were fantastically better than Star Watch’s wave harmonics deflectors.

  Fletcher watched with growing despair. He made a fist with his right hand, his fingernails digging into the meat of his palm.

  Antietam’s heavy lasers struck an enemy shield. They turned it red as the shield attempted to dissipate the incredible energy. The enemy shield darkened and then became black. Finally, the enemy shield went down.

  “Yes!” Fletcher said.

  Antietam’s lasers burned into the star cruiser’s hull armor. The battleship’s interior engine thrum aboard the flagship made the deck plates shiver. The hot lasers burned through layer after armored layer.

  “We’re going to kill it, sir,” the weapons officer said.

  Then the New Men practiced a hateful and deceitful maneuver. Fletcher could hardly believe it. The hit star cruiser shifted its position within the enemy fleet. It pulled nearer another star cruiser. As they advanced on the Fifth Fleet, an unhurt star cruiser interposed itself between the Antietam’s lasers and the hurt star cruiser.

  It was incredible piloting. Worse, it meant the battleship failed to annihilate the stricken enemy vessel.

  Dully, Fletcher realized the New Men did the same thing up and down their semi-loose formation. The enemy was killing Star Watch vessels and only taking wounds in return.

  The two fleets had almost merged. In minutes, they would be at their closest point. Then the two fleets would pass and move away from each other, the New Men heading in-system and what remained of the Fifth Fleet going outward.

  A holoimage appeared before Fletcher.

  It was Commander Musgrave of the Heavy Cruiser Canada.

  “I’m dead anyway, Admiral,” Musgrave snarled. The man’s eyes blazed with heat. “Before that happens, I’m going to blow a hole they can’t repair.”

  “What are you talking about?” Fletcher asked.

  “Get ready, sir, and remember my crew.”

  “Musgrave, make sense,” Fletcher said. The man had always been a hothead.

  As the two fleets merged, Heavy Cruiser Canada took the brunt of four New Men beams on its upgraded deflector shield.

  “Sir,” Antietam’s weapons officer said. “Heavy Cruiser Canada is going critical.”

  “You mean its new antimatter core?” Fletcher asked. It was the latest in starship engine construction. Only a few heavy cruisers had it.

  Before the weapons officer could answer, a titanic explosion took place out there.

  Heavy Cruiser Canada ignited. Musgrave’s engineers managed to funnel the obliterating antimatter blast at the nearest star cruisers. The raving energy knocked down one New Men shield after another.

  Finally, it dawned on Fletcher what Musgrave had meant. “Everyone,” the admiral shouted on wide-beam, “concentrate your beams on the stricken star cruisers.”

  Other SWS battlewagons turned their lasers on the enemy star cruisers, those lacking any kind of shielding. The Canada’s antimatter blast gave them a rare opportunity. The Earth ships took it.

  Lasers dug into enemy hull armor, digging ever so slowly toward the innards. The New Men tried their trick of darting behind a fresh star cruiser. This time, the enemy didn’t move fast enough.

  A star cruiser exploded in violent fury. The energy struck other New Men shields and vessels.

  “Hit and kill!” Fletcher roared. He finally witnessed a star cruiser die to his dwindling fleet. Thank God for Musgrave’s brave sacrifice.

  Maybe this came too late in the fight for them to win, but it wasn’t the last dead enemy vessel. More star cruisers perished as every Star Watch warship beamed its lasers at nearly point blank range. Missile boats added their cargoes. Escort ships poured weaker laser fire at the passing enemy ships. SWS destroyers used every watt of power to inflict damage upon the New Men.

  The Fifth Fleet made almost all its kills in these brief moments. Then, the two fleets passed each other. The antimatter-stricken ships were gone. Now, the New Men began to use their old trick to protect damaged star cruisers.

  At that point, the New Men began braking, slowing their velocity. No doubt, they meant to annihilate the now fleeing Fifth Fleet.

  The two sides continued to fire beams and launch missiles at each other. Time passed. More Star Watch vessels exploded or drifted away as burnt-out hulks. The Fifth Fleet struck back, killing another star cruiser and wounding others in the process. Finally, though, both formations pulled away out of firing range.

  The first round of the Battle of Caria 323 was over.

  -4-

  “Damage report,” Fletcher said, staring at the viewing screen.

  The bridge crew worked fast, giving him the numbers within minutes.

  A paltry seven enemy star cruisers were drifting hulks or floating masses of loose debris. Fourteen of the New Men’s vessels appeared to have sustained damage. That left twenty-seven of their hateful ships intact or forty-one altogether.

  For the Fifth Fleet, it was much worse. All nine of Blake’s monitors were gone, and all the troop transports had vanished. Out of seventeen battleships, Fletcher had ten left. Out of thirty-five heavy cruisers, he had seventeen remaining. Nine motherships remained intact, but he only had enough strikefighters and bombers to arm four of them. Most of the destroyers were gone, although the majority of the depleted missile boats remained. That meant out of a beginning seventy-four capital ships, he had thirty-six left.

  He’d lost half his fleet for seven enemy ships destroyed. Would the New Men lose any of the fourteen damaged star cruisers before this was over? If not, how long would the stricken vessels be out of commission? A month, six months, a year?

  “Admiral,” the comm officer said in a strained voice. “I’m picking up a transmission from an enemy star cruiser. Sir, it’s their fleet commander. He’s calling himself Oran Rva. He’s wishes to speak with you, sir.”

  “He’s calling for me by name?” Fletcher asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the comm officer said, his eyes large and staring.

  Fletcher knew that the New Men seldom said anything to Star Watch personnel. If they did, “Surrender or die,” were the usual words. Regardless, Fletcher decided it would be good to speak to the enemy. If nothing else, the psychologists could study the video later to help get a better picture of the New Men’s character. They knew so little about the enemy.

  “Yes,” Fletcher said. “Put him…put him on the main screen.”

  The admiral didn’t know if that was wise or not. If he put the New Man on the holoimage, everyone on the bridge would be trying to overhear and likely get the message wrong. They might create rumors worse than the actual message. He decided to let them see the enemy and what they were up against.

  The main screen wavered as the stars disappeared. In their place, a golden-skinned New Man appeared, standing on what must have been his bridge. Oran Rva wore a silver suit with a single purple emblem on his right pectoral. He had a weapon belt around his slender waist with a holstered blaster.

  The man had long, inflexible features. He was tall with a dark pelt of hair. The eyes were like swirling black ink, the skin
like golden ivory. He seemed the very image of arrogance.

  “Surrender, Admiral Fletcher,” the New Man said. He spoke with a deep and confident voice.

  “You’re Oran Rva?” Fletcher asked.

  “I am your conqueror. Therefore, it is unseemly that you question me. Do you not know that the inferior either waits in silence or answers direct queries? Any other actions bring swift punishment or death. I speak to you today to offer life. It would be foolish of you to squander this unique opportunity through bad manners.”

  “You’re the fool,” Fletcher said with heat. “You won the first round only. We’ll see about the second.”

  “No. There will be no second round. There will only be butchery if you persist to speak ignorantly.”

  “Why did you call me?” Fletcher snapped.

  Oran Rva’s eyes swirled with power.

  “I sully myself speaking to one of the untamed,” the New Man said, “but there is a reason. I desire your remaining ships intact. Therefore, I have broken protocol and will give you a choice. Surrender your vessels, and you, along with your crews, shall live out your days in peace.”

  “As your slaves?” Fletcher sneered.

  “Do not worry on that account,” Oran Rva said. “You are too set in your unrefined status for us to trouble with retraining. Experience shows that would prove too tiresome. Therefore, we will let you roam on the smallest continent on Caria Prime.”

  “Roam like wild horses?” Fletcher asked.

  “You are stretching my graciousness, Admiral, asking these unseemly questions. Grasp at life instead of death. Recognize the futility of fighting your superiors.”

  Fletcher stared at the New Men. Did Oran Rva think these were convincing arguments? The New Men were supposed to be unbelievably smart. Yet the golden-skinned man talking to him seemed to believe he was acting mercifully.

  “It is you who called me,” Fletcher said. “Not the other way around. Or have you forgotten that you want my ships intact?”

  The ivory-like skin seemed to tighten on Oran Rva’s face. The New Man studied Fletcher’s features as if he could burn them into his memory.

  “You would live as hunter-gatherers,” Oran Rva said, “free to indulge your lust-driven appetites for as long as you found game or grazed upon the plant life.”

  “You have an amazingly high opinion of yourselves,” Fletcher said.

  “That is incorrect and insulting,” Oran Rva said. “We deal in realities, seeing the universe as it is, not engaging in the half-dazed fantasies that you of the lower orders are accustomed to. Perhaps this will goad you to a correct solution. Continue in your vain resistance, and I shall annihilate the population of Caria Prime.”

  The threat stole Fletcher’s breath. The New Man spoke about killing five hundred million humans as one would swat a fly. Slowly, the admiral shook his head. Humanity could never surrender to the New Men. Star Watch must fight to the end, if that’s what it came to.

  “Your stubbornness has sealed your fate, Admiral Fletcher, and sealed the fate of your doomed fleet and the lives of those on Caria Prime. If by chance you survive the battle, I will hand you over to the teacher. Then you will wish you died in the destruction of your antiquated vessels.”

  Oran Rva waved a long-fingered hand, ending the connection.

  Fletcher blinked several times, and he felt heat flush his face. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that. It was unnerving, galling and angering. He wished there was some way to destroy the star cruisers.

  Fletcher scowled. He hated this helplessness. With a slow step, he returned to his command chair and sat down.

  “Sir,” the comm officer said.

  Fletcher raised his head. “What is it now?”

  “Commodore Garcia wishes to speak with you, sir.”

  “Oh,” the admiral said. “Yes. Put her on holoimage.”

  Garcia had the thousand-meter stare. She seemed badly shaken. Had she seen that?

  “You wish to speak with me?” Fletcher asked.

  “We must run,” she said.

  Run? Where did she want to run to?

  “The New Men are braking,” Garcia said. “They mean to come after us and finish the fight.”

  “We can get to the gas giant before they reach us,” Fletcher said.

  “Do you mean to use Laumer-Point Beta to slip into the Lamia System?” she asked.

  “What?” Fletcher asked. “No. I mean to circle the gas giant and finish them if I can. Commander Musgrave showed us what we have to do. Using the Jovian planet, we’ll slip near them and explode some of our vessels that use the new antimatter engines. Then we beam those of the star cruisers we can before we all die.”

  After listening to Oran Rva, Fletcher realized he would use any expedient he could, short of surrendering his ships, to save the people of Caria Prime.

  Garcia was shaking her head. “We dealt them a heavier blow than I ever thought possible, sir.”

  “Seven measly ships?” Fletcher asked in disbelief.

  “Twenty-one of their star cruisers sustained damage or died.”

  “At a cost of over half our fleet,” Fletcher said. “I meant to annihilate them.”

  “They’ll annihilate us if we try to face them again,” Garcia said. “The numbers have improved drastically in their favor.”

  “I’m well aware of that. I’m also certain they have a few star cruisers waiting for us in the Lamia System. If we were foolish enough to try to jump, they would obliterate our Jump Lagged fleet at no more cost to themselves.”

  “Then we’re doomed,” Garcia said, flatly. “The Commonwealth will be open to even greater assaults than before.”

  As Fletcher thought about Caria Prime and the rest of the Commonwealth, he felt uselessness bubble up in his chest. He loathed the feeling. He couldn’t believe this. Blake had been right after all. He’d been so sure he could defeat the enemy. Now, hatred for the New Men consumed his thoughts.

  “Sir,” Garcia said.

  “We bloodied them. Because of Musgrave, we must have hurt the New Men more than they believed we could. I think we’ll have slowed their invasion some.”

  “By a few months only,” Garcia said.

  “That’s something at least.”

  Garcia became earnest. “Admiral, we have to save our fleet. We dealt the New Men more damage than anyone thought possible. Your trick with the decoys helped. The new wave harmonics also made a difference, and we can’t forget Musgrave’s sacrifice.”

  “Running to Laumer-Point Beta isn’t going to change anything,” Fletcher said. “We will use the gas giant as a pivoting post. Yes, the enemy is going to decimate us now, but we can still take a few more with us.”

  “Sir, there’s another answer. I implore you to—”

  “What other answer?” Fletcher asked.

  Garcia licked her lips. “Sir, we could run for the Tannish System. It’s close enough.”

  It took Fletcher a second to understand her meaning. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he said, “there’s no direct tramline from Caria to Tannish.”

  “Exactly,” Garcia said. “We would cross the void at sub-light speeds.”

  “And get to the Tannish System in six months or more,” Fletcher said. “How would that help us? The New Men would be waiting at Tannish, using the tramlines to get there a few weeks from now. What’s worse, in six months their damaged ships might be fully repaired.”

  “I realize all that,” Garcia said. “But it will give our side six months to do something creative.”

  “Bah,” Fletcher said, waving his hand. “Do you yearn for life as a beaten foe that much?”

  “No,” she said. “But the maneuver gives us something greater than what we can get any other way. If we run for Tannish, we’re giving Star Watch six months longer to figure out something to do.”

  “I don’t follow your reasoning,” he said.

  “If we flee into the void, heading to Tannish at sub-light velocity, t
he Lord High Admiral might be able to convince the leaders of the Wahhabi Caliphate to ally with us against the New Men. Or maybe Star Watch can figure out how to make the alien super-ship work for us.”

  “Captain Maddox’s vessel?” Fletcher asked.

  “Yes, Admiral,” Garcia said.

  Fletcher shook his head. “Don’t put any faith in that ancient starship.”

  “We’d better find some other way to face the New Men, sir. At least the ancient vessel gives us a ray of hope. We can trust the Wahhabi princes to come to their senses and join us. Six months is a long time, Admiral.”

  Fletcher looked away. If they ran, would Oran Rva nuke Caria Prime? Maybe the New Men wouldn’t have time to do it right away.

  “We have to maintain hope,” Garcia said. “Otherwise, we might as well surrender to the New Men now and get it over with.”

  Fletcher sat up, scowling at her. “I will never surrender to them.”

  “Then race into the void and buy us more time, sir.”

  “The New Men might follow us into the void and finish us there.”

  “Good!” Garcia said. “Let them follow us. That means their fleet is out of the tramlines for four months or more. That could be critical. But I doubt they’ll follow us. They’ll likely head to Tannish through the tramlines to wait for us.”

  Fletcher drummed his thick fingers on the armrest of his chair.

  Garcia’s features grew intent. “Admiral, you have hurt the enemy. No one has destroyed as many New Men vessels as you just did today. It cost us, but we hit back and made it count to the tune of seven destroyed star cruisers. Use that against them. Buy our side more time. We have to try to gain some sort of advantage. Otherwise, they’ve won. I know you don’t want that, sir.”

  Maybe that’s why Oran Rva had called, even though it was against New Men protocols. Fifth Fleet had destroyed seven star cruisers.

  Fletcher rose wearily. He didn’t relish running away. Yet, the commodore had an interesting point. No one had hurt the New Men as hard as he had here today. He had destroyed enemy vessels. That was a new feat. Could the leaders of Star Watch budge the stubborn caliphate to take up arms against the New Men? Surely, the sheiks would see the danger in doing nothing.