Spinward Fringe Broadcast 14

by Randolph Lalonde

  "That's it?" Easy asked, surprised.

  Dame was surprised as well, but she followed orders without delay. To his credit, Easy did the same, but he had questions.

  "We're loaded up with enough bombs to make a hole in that thing, at least, and we're done?" Easy asked.

  "Aye. That thing's too far away to do immediate damage to our people. These bombs will matter a lot more if we hit the Order from behind. We're all our Fleet can spare to do that; the rest of our fighters are barely keeping up with the defence."

  "Yeah," Easy said, his voice heavy with regret. As their fighters accelerated to the main battle, where Dame hoped they could make a real difference, create an opening for all Haven forces, she listened to him explain himself. "I've been an independent revolution guy too long. Still not used to letting someone more experienced do the thinking. Let's go bust up some Order hardware."

  Twenty-Six

  Rear Admiral West Kenly

  * * *

  The message started with his promotion to Rear Admiral. It wasn't like a promotion most military organizations would bestow. The granting of it was an automatic function of the system according how he handled the situation since Lucius Wheeler abandoned his post in a mad, paranoid fit. The man told everyone he had a plan to dismantle Haven Fleet leadership, but he had to do so from inside. It was the last phase of a plan that never made sense to anyone. It only invited more questions from Order of Eden command, and more hate from the people of Tamber. Overlord Dron placed Wheeler there though, so there was no challenging it. When Wheeler left it was a relief.

  Serving under a paranoid fool was difficult. Could Admiral Wheeler manage the normal demands of his position? Strangely, yes. Wheeler was exceptional at everything the position of Admiral demanded, there was no doubt. It was his personal agenda to discredit his enemies that really rankled Kenly. That, along with the delusion that Overlord Dron was sending signals through space that would destroy Wheeler, so he had to wear a shielded suit. It was delusional. Why would Dron send him to the Haven System in a leadership position while he was sending destructive coded instructions his way? Wheeler's paranoia irritated Kenly to no end. That was until he decided and dedicated himself to being the perfect impartial officer. The Order of Eden had a clear goal in mind for the Haven System. Unquestionable suppression of the population until the long-term plan for the resource rich solar system could be decided. They were there to hold it for the Overlord.

  Sitting in the middle of the bridge of the Ascent One, the older Regent Galactic battleship he claimed as his secret flagship, he stared at the little slip displaying his new orders. They were just vague enough for some interpretation and excused him of any expense in the use of one tactic in particular. The dark grey deck around him was quiet except for a few distant, low volume conversations between technicians and officers while they worked at their stations. The bridge was fully manned by forty operators who managed every aspect of the ship. He looked up from his wide seat, large enough for three, comfortable enough to be called a sofa. He touched the narrow display slip, which looked like little more than a transparent, flimsy strip of plastic no longer than his hand, to the emblem on his chest and it changed to his new rank. "Congratulations, Rear Admiral," a warm voice said. Senior Commander Fetra sat down beside him with refreshing familiarity. He barely knew her, the old Captain of this ship was famously romantically enticed by her, promoting her from Lieutenant over the last year, forbidding her from leaving the ship. Captain Keusho was killed when The Shard was bombarded by the Merciless, most of the Order of Eden commanders in the Haven System were, leaving her in charge of the Ascent One.

  "Thank you. We have new orders. We'll be ending this battle shortly," he said. "We'll be capturing as many Haven Fleet ships and personnel as possible while being wary of traps. They're not averse to blowing themselves up using whatever they have at hand, especially when they're outnumbered by our people."

  "Good, we're low on pilots and the drones are too predictable to pose much of a threat to Haven fighters. It's as if all the enemy has left are their best, we've just cut the fat away from their rosters," she said, idly running her fingertips over his normally bald head. It was a little stubbly. "I've never met anyone who shaved from the neck up every day. Ever consider permanent removal?"

  "I enjoy the discipline of keeping it clean myself," he said, looking to her and beholding the relaxed smile that was so prized by the previous Captain. He wondered if she was trying to play the same game with him. The game that may have had her moving up a rank every couple of months, and lead to the inheritance of all his wealth upon his death. They never slept together, her aloofness with her former captain was well known, so was there a chance? Was she different with him?

  Catching himself as they quietly regarded each other, he imagined that she was taking advantage of his solitude. Little did he know that it was a choice. Being a calm creature that valued clear thought was a strength. He could appreciate that she was charming without being drawn in, without letting it interfere with their professional relationship. He'd see what kind of commander she was. "We have new scanning protocols," he said flatly. "Let me be clear: I will promote you to Captain and give you this ship if you prove yourself during this engagement. I don't care about your wealth portfolio, your history with the former commander of this ship. I value your intelligence, and your capability to carry out any orders given to you. I need an exceptional commander aboard this ship because I suspect that our superiors see us as expendable. I suspect this battle will take a sudden dire turn, that is why the normal Order strategy of wearing our enemies down with superior numbers is being abandoned here. If you climbed to your current position without being capable of performing your duties at a higher than normal standard, then I'll have to step in and we'll reassess your position aboard. I don't expect that, however."

  Her hand was withdrawn, but she didn't appear angry or shocked. Instead she looked… curious? A little surprised? "What are your orders, Rear Admiral?"

  He continued as though they were having a normal conversation. There were people under his command dying only a few kilometres away, and he was aboard a new ship with a new staff who he didn't know well. Their leader, who he'd just put in her place, was hanging on his every word and he was sure her crew were taking in anything they could overhear. "You'll work with the Tactical Sensor Analyst Team to input them immediately. I want them in use within five minutes." He handed her the data strip and she caught the flimsy thing between two fingers.

  "Yes, Sir," she said officially, on her feet, running it across the large bridge to the Tactical Sciences stations, a ring of terminals manned by several well-educated recruits. After studying it for a moment, she began to instruct them, dropping the data slip into a slot on the console. After a few short moments she was back at his side. "It's done. Do you want them to implement the new protocol across the fleet?"

  "Yes, please. We'll use all available scanners to perform a high powered, high gain sweep of the area," he replied. As soon as she swung the command interface board in front of her seat and started forwarding the orders and the protocol to all his ships, he attended to the other important instruction he'd received. Selecting Destroyers 138, 949 and 081, he ordered them to program the ships to be controlled remotely then to abandon them at the rear of the Order of Eden Fleet surrounding the Haven Ships.

  It took a few moments for the orders to be acknowledged, and each of the destroyers started moving. The rest of the Order fleet under his command maintained their firing pattern, sending hundreds of torpedoes, missiles and shells towards the circle of Haven ships. They were wearing them down; their shields would collectively fail in minutes. Citadel was no help as usual. Uncommunicative ever since they lost two major ships, it was surprising that they didn't get in the way. Their ground attacks did buy time, but he suspected that wasn't their purpose. They wanted the bunker and whatever was in the lowest floors behind scan-proof regenerating walls. Wheeler should have sent people
down to cut their way in, but he gave up as soon as he was told it would take weeks to break through one of the vault walls without destroying whatever was inside.

  The vault wasn't on any records they could find. It didn't look like anyone other than the former Defence Minister, Anderson, knew what was kept safe within. Whatever was inside was still intact, most likely. There was no way Citadel could have gotten their hands on it without some technology that allowed them to walk through walls. "The scan protocols are in place and the fleet is ready to scan on your word, Rear Admiral," Senior Commander Fetra said.

  It had been four minutes and thirty-one seconds. If everyone was really ready, she'd surpassed her orders. "Thank you," he said simply. If she was just as impressive as an officer as she was in other respects, then she could become his most important ally. He checked the readiness state of the fleet, finding that they'd networked all their scanner systems and the new protocol was in place. That wouldn't have happened so quickly if it was managed by an average commander of her level. "Keep it up and you'll be Captain, master of this ship by the end of the day."

  "And alive?" she asked in a low whisper. There was no fear there, the question was almost asked playfully.

  "I don't believe this or any other crew is expendable," he whispered in return. "If the worst happens, and the odds turn, we'll live to fight another day."

  Confident that he had given the right amount of reassurance, he turned his attention back to his command board, a light input screen that he could swing in front of him to make direct commands. Kenly focused on the three destroyers that were quietly being abandoned and was satisfied to see that he had full control of them. He plotted a dynamic course for them that sent each one at the Sunspire, the storied lead ship of the small Haven Fleet in the solar system. The destroyers would run at it; full thrust, fully charged shields, only a little more than one kilometre behind each other. If the Sunspire tried to evade, the courses of the destroyers would automatically adjust. "At least one of them will hit that ancient ship, and that'll be the real beginning of the end. We'll harvest the steel as a resource, saving something, perhaps the commission plate if it survives, as a trophy. If they don't surrender after they see the expense we're willing to expend to bring about their defeat, then we'll beat them until there are only a handful left for interrogation."

  "How can this battle turn around on us?" Senior Commander Fetra asked. Her question was genuine, there was no hint of taunting or doubt in it.

  "I don't know, but we should be ready." The only thing that would completely ruin them was the arrival of the larger Haven Fleet, but despite their superior technology, their fleet was made up of cast-offs, the tailings of failed governments and militaries. They weren't a real force, not a real navy, so how could they turn the battle? He couldn't imagine it. Even still, there was a tightening in his stomach, a dark feeling that wouldn't go away. "We should be ready," he repeated, and found how his new subordinate slipped to her feet and started a slow walk around the bridge that gave her a chance to look over everyone's shoulder as she passed reassuring.

  Rear Admiral West Kenly used his command interface screen to order the entire fleet to begin a re-synchronizing of their scanners. In a minute, perhaps a little more, they would have the entire solar system scanned, and no cloaked ship would remain hidden. Haven Fleet would no longer have surprise or obfuscation on their side. "No technology is superior forever."

  Twenty-Seven

  The Run

  * * *

  The Athens seemed to grow endlessly as Ronin led Dame and Easy to one of the Order of Eden's big cruisers. It was near the centre of their line, had the largest interdiction systems and was bombarding the Haven ships in orbit around Tamber. From a distance it looked like a collection of white-grey plates, only a few, set together in angles that suited launch and retrieval bays, weapon emplacements and the occasional array of transparent metal, oval portholes. It was a newer ship, built in the last decade, but it seemed like an older lumbering vessel to Dame.

  A beast of burden, a city built for war with walls on all sides to hold the hostility of space and the enemies of its inhabitants at bay. The idea that a fighter could critically damage it reminded her of a museum exhibit she saw as a child where a group of tribesmen were charging a giant pachyderm in loincloths with stone spears as their only weapons. There was little time for idle thought, but she found herself wondering if the newer cruisers were going to replace the more vulnerable carriers. The Athens was flanked by two such carriers, numbered ships that didn't have proper names. Zero-Nineteen and One Five Two were almost as long but they were thin, like stacked wafers with sections of angled hull that were built thusly to make them easier to shield using energy. You don't name ships with numbers, she thought. How can anyone call a ship with a name like Zero-Nineteen home? The Triton, even the Merciless or War Forge sound like places. Their names tell you something about everyone who rests their heads there. How can anyone be proud to be from a ship called One Five Two?

  The tactical screen filled her view. Semi-transparent so she could look through it to her instruments and another layer of data around her main view in her helmet, and she paid close attention. They were behind the enemy line drawn by well over a hundred ships. The amount of resources dedicated to controlling the Haven System was so large that it barely made sense to her. Yes, it took a vast navy to control and hold a solar system of even a modest size, and the Haven System was huge, but the Order of Eden just lost another solar system in the Cluster. Iyagda was home to a shipyard they'd taken and started building Regent Galactic ships in, but the British Alliance ran them out of the system recently. Even though they said they were withdrawing back to the Core Worlds, the British saw that as too fine a jewel to pass up, and there was something going on there. Something that would wound the Order of Eden in the Cluster, surely, but there was an armada in the Haven System? It didn't make sense, there were details missing. Thankfully, it didn't matter much to the mission at hand.

  Behind the enemy fleet gathered around Tamber, there was next to no activity. Fighters launched to join the mad fray between the two forces and damaged ships that were lucky enough to return to the bays had come up on her tactical window, but that was all. It was a different story on the other side of the ship. A no-man's land of large ship crossfire and smaller vessels chasing and whirling like a kicked Loranen hornet's nest filled that space. She'd heard the mental cost of that melee for only a moment. Ronin made the mistake of opening his direct channel to Easy and her while he was still talking to the pilots he led in that death zone. "…after drones. Maid, cover Traveller's corvette group on their push. Take Rip and Sorrow, they just lost their leader. Everyone keep to the general rule: watch your ass and line your targets up three at a time," she overhead. "We're all clockwork killers today; tick-shoot, tick-kill, tock-switch, tick-shoot, tick kill. Doesn't matter if it's a torpedo or a fellow pilot, we're not going to run out of targets until time runs out for one fleet or the other."

  The channel closed then. A quick check at the communications screen showed her that Ronin was still connected to all Haven fighters, probably directing them through the mad fight in the void, but her and Easy were isolated from it. Ronin had a direct communication to them, but they weren't set up to talk to the main group automatically. She could have, the temptation to join the main channel for pilots was large enough, but there was a reason why Ronin had things set up the way he did. Perhaps he wanted her and Easy focused, or there would be specific instructions coming that no one could afford to lose in cross talk, or there was a special need for secrecy. The reason didn't matter. Her commander had it set up just so, and it wasn't her place to make changes.

  His short speech resonated with her, though. That was obviously something they were meant to hear. Maybe some of them didn't understand Ronin's clock talk, but that's what getting into a dogfight felt like to her. A metronome seemed to tick-tock a beat in her mind as she ran through practiced and sometimes improvised ste
ps as she set her sights on a target, verified its identity, pulled the trigger using the correct weapon, watched it while she picked her next two targets, then moved on when her enemy was destroyed. Dame understood her own process well, but it was the first time she consciously realized that there was a rhythm to her work. Maybe the beat was faster for her, or every second was more well accounted for, or perhaps the cold, professional feeling that overtook her when it was time to take an enemy out made her better than most. Whatever it was, she hoped to never miss a step in her dance.

  "We're almost there," Easy said.

  "I know," she replied, watching the grey-white hull loom larger than ever. The details of thousands of thick armour plates were visible then. Space, the great void tricked the eye, making distance difficult to gauge. That was until you had a point of reference, and the Athens made for a great one at this distance. Its shields were taking a beating, most of the energy was being sent to its port side, which faced the circled group of Haven ships, leaving its starboard side with a weak, barely maintained barrier. This wasn't an ingenious plan. Ronin wouldn't get that kind of credit. It was an obvious one, a smart one. She acknowledged that much, but she wondered at the hubris of the Order commanders.

  "Dame, you have the Athens," Ronin said, sending her a firing pattern. "I'll take Carrier Zero-Nineteen and Easy will hit Carrier One Five Two. Just remember: when Dame's Hammerheads go off, a lot of the blast could hit the armour plating of that thing wrong. The blast could spread out to the sides, and we'll get caught in it if we're not careful."

  "Gotcha, Ronin," Easy said.