Free Fleet Box Set 1

by Michael Chatfield

  I studied the oncoming Syndicate ships. They were in a ragged line formation—with their faster and smaller ships in front of the larger, slower heavy hitters. Although it looked impressive, I knew that it was one of the easiest formations for a group of unorganized ships to be in. It had little to no tactical advantage, unless they moved on an angle to my own Free Fleet, because then they could only bring their forward weapons to bear.

  They were facing me head on now and braking hard. Making it so that I’d pass through them quicker. It also meant the massive firepower of their starboard and port batteries would only able to bear when the fleets intersected.

  Then there was a good chance of them hitting their own ships if, say, I charged right down the middle—interceding my ships with their own.

  “Ben, lay in course five degrees over their formation.”

  “Understood, Commander.” There was no question in his voice.

  Whereas the Syndicate forces were taking potshots with their forward guns, mostly their corvettes, Marleen was guiding a systematic hand of death over the Syndicate forces, taking out those very corvettes. “Flip!” she said.

  Milra did so, bringing the starboard back around and letting port check their guns.

  “We have launch of missiles!” a sensor operator yelled.

  “Rein that in, Sensors,” I said with a warning and raised eyebrow.

  The now coloring operator turned back to his work.

  Pandora and FengFang proved their worth with their simplified PDS systems, but they weren’t the only ones with the Gatling gun systems now.

  Lines of rounds spat out of every ship, reaching out to touch missiles with hundreds of rounds. Missiles bloomed around us. The Resilient shook from the pounding.

  “Forty percent,” Krat said.

  “Just lost the Ilmurta,” Rick said as one of our corvettes disappeared in a radioactive bloom.

  “BC Mentr’s just scrammed a reactor. They’re holding position.”

  Good. If they didn’t, they’d be easy pickings.

  “Twelve percent,” Krat said as the missiles ended and we were on the enemy.

  “Use the PDS,” I said as Marleen was bellowing orders; Vort relayed them to every other ship.

  “We’re hitting them hard. Their shields haven’t had time to recover,” Rick said, none of his usually playful tone there, his face serious as he flipped from one feed to the other to get more information from the fleet.

  I could do nothing now. I just had to sit back and wait for the outcome—try to help where I could and try to keep my people calm. If they started to panic, then we would be screwed. “Redistribute stern shielding to the bow if needed,” I said.

  “Yes, Commander,” Krat said as he waged a war against multiple energy sources.

  “Whatever gunnery sector can get me a communications array gets a round on me at Parnmal,” I called out.

  “Yes, sir!” Marleen said.

  I flicked my hand, closing the channel. I watched the battle on the holo projected from my seat.

  “Down to thirty percent shields. We have spotting!” Krat said as the shaking became more violent. “Twelve percent.”

  We were finally within their firing envelope.

  The Resilient rocked as incoming fire struck her hull. There was nothing to do: we couldn’t roll to present a different side because the other side was getting pounded, and it would take time for our gunners to re-organize themselves.

  It was a battle of strength: our shields, hull, guns, and people against theirs. They had more of everything, but we had better trained personnel and better repaired ships than them. Hopefully, it would make the difference.

  “Communications relay taken out on the dreadnought. We have secondary explosions,” Rick informed me, Marleen too busy working her crews.

  “Get the gunnery section that took out the array to target engines. The rest are to focus on the battle cruisers,” I said back.

  “We have breaches in the bow. Plasmid and atmosphere venting. Gunnery Ring Bravo on port side has two guns down; Delta one. Starboard is reporting Charlie is down four,” Krat said, his voice emotionless as he focused on facts without thinking of the reality that we’d just lost fifteen people.

  “We’re having blow-outs!” Marleen yelled.

  “Keep up the fire. Only change out rails and targeting crystals when at five percent. Increase rate of fire!” What I was saying was strictly against what every gunner chief said. I wonder what they’d say to my instructions.

  From the Belly of the Beast

  Chief Brusk spat out the side of his mouth as Marleen yelled out the new orders.

  “You heard the lady! Commander Salchar wants us to ruin these damned pretty boys’ ships! The Resilient is not about to disappoint! Have replacements and burn treatments ready. More than one of you’ll get your gunners badge today!” He put his head to the aiming sights as he selected the highest rate of fire the rail gun he was manning could take.

  As he hit five percent, he ejected the rails, hitting the recovery button as the mantle came inside the ship. Quickly, new rails were slapped into place and he was given the thumbs-up. He hit the recovery button as he spat into his collector; the targeting computer locked him onto his last target and he depressed his trigger. Three other linked rail guns, through the Resilient’s massive processing power, fired into the same space.

  Brusk couldn’t help but grin at the firepower he and the gunners in his command actually controlled as the shielding of the battle cruiser he was firing at began to spot.

  “Spotting!” he said as he hit a targeting laser. Firepower from other ships in the main body added to the Resilient’s own gun deck’s, causing the battle cruiser to roll after a few seconds of punishment; then, as it cleared the Resilient, a rail cannon hit the engines. The laser cut through it as if it were butter—its lack of shielding its downfall.

  “Change targets!” Brusk said as fusion reactors were ejected by the ship and her weapons went silent as she tried to pull away.

  He heard sirens in the background as a crystal failed, ejecting the gunner backward. The loaders were already out of the way. As the blast shield dropped, the atmosphere drained from inside and the crystal was ejected. The gun recovered. He put his gun on auto as he glanced over. The blast shield went white-hot and one of the loaders yelled in pain. The gunner ran over with a burn kit, spraying the burn victim’s wound with white foam. The gunner helped the loader up as they ran to another sealed blast shield.

  “What are you doing!?” he yelled to them.

  “Chief, it caught a round. The crew of this gun all got severe burns. We’re going to take it over.” A woman turned—still running—as she yelled her response over the firing, a testament to her lungs.

  “Good work, boys!” he yelled, the woman in the crew not even noticing his use of words as he spat, turning to his gun. The crew had just reacted; he doubted they had even understood that if their crystal hadn’t nearly overloaded and ejected itself, they would’ve been cooked crispies. Not many had been so lucky. He stopped himself from looking around the gunner deck with all too many blast shields closed. There was a reason their nickname was the tombstone. Once they closed from a blast, no one was coming out from behind it alive.

  He let his anger out as he took his gun off auto and picked out the battle cruiser’s thrusters he was hitting and raked them with rail gun rounds, whooping as he saw one of them sputter and die.

  “I want closer groupings! Link up with another gun crew to rake their thrusters!” Brusk yelled, not looking away from his screen as he spat into an intake.

  “Follow my lead,” he said to the gunner to his right as he fired into the thrusters of a new battle cruiser passing his screen. The gunner did so. Their lasers caught the massive rail gun bolts and super-heated them as they sliced into the battle cruiser’s hull like the molten metal it was.

  “That’s the ticket!” he said as the thrusters’ manifold buckled and gave way. The ship shook fr
om the loss of thrust.

  Eddie rushed into a group of Commandos and Earth troops. “Out of the way!” he yelled. The Commandos moved, automatically pulling the Earth troops with them. Eddie rushed through on his way to fix the starboard shield generators.

  He felt another Kuruvian bump into him, making him balance on one foot to stop falling over. The Kuruvian grabbed his arm, righting him.

  “Well, you little... Shrift! Good man—follow me. We have a shield generator to fix.”

  “Yes, Chief,” Shrift said, thumbing his work belt.

  Eddie turned, muttering under his breath. “Thought you could escape to the armories, did ya? The hum of a star cruising warship will always be your call, my boy.”

  “What are you muttering now?”

  “Wondering if you remember how to fix a shield generator anymore.”

  “I think I can handle it. I’ll go for the alpha ring.”

  “Bah!” Eddie kept looking ahead as he ran so Shrift couldn’t see his smile. Oh boyo, you’re a proper engineer now. He moved to beta ring. “Now, don’t muck it up or I’ll have you repainting thruster manifolds!”

  “Aye aye, Chief!” The young Kuruvian touched a wrench to his head as he ran backward, turning and running forward again.

  “You’re damned everywhere, aren’t you?” Eddie said as he ran into another group of the Earth troops and their minders.

  “Damned bugs.”

  “I might be a damned bug, but I’m the damned bug keeping you alive and this beauty running even after the way you’ve treated her!”

  The man about to make a retort got a clap to the back of the helmet. “This is not the foucking time for arguing. Get fixing, ’cause your life does foucking depend on it. Excuse them, Chief.” The other human nodded his head in respect as the other one went back to replacing power lines.

  “No worries!” Eddie yelled, already down the corridor and turning, closing in on his shield generator.

  “You poor darling,” he crooned as his wrench touched the shield generator’s housing, pulling it apart, down the layers of hardware and opening in levels as he got to work.

  ***

  The Resilient still rocked from hits as I realized we were past the Syndicate fleet, but I couldn’t believe it.

  “Give them our bow,” I said.

  Milra flipped the ship as Rick looked like a crazed man working his station.

  A final hit got our side as sparks came from a panel. Flames erupted from it.

  “Contain that fire, Shreesht!” I barked. “Get me ship reports as soon as possible, Rick.”

  “Commander.” He didn’t even look away from his work.

  We had pounded the Syndicate ships, crippling most of their battle cruisers’ thrusters, and forcing them to slow down. The dreadnought was also listing badly and without communications. Our formation and coordination had saved us crippling losses, but we were four corvettes, a cruiser, and a BC lighter, with my other two BCs heavily injured. None of my ships were ready for another fight like the one we’d just had.

  The Syndicate had sixty-five ships still in fighting condition and then the planetary cannons, which had stopped for our passing, started again as the Syndicate to continue to brake, their inertia making them follow us.

  I kept an eye on the plot as Monk appeared on my main screen. Just as I was about to contact you.

  “Well, you’ve hurt them worse than I ever thought possible. Teach me to doubt you.” He inclined his head as I grinned.

  “But I’m not done yet.”

  Monk let out a rare grin.

  “Cut firing,” I continued as Monk yelled to his people and the cannons went silent.

  “Always more surprises with you,” he said, clearly watching his own system plot.

  To Quote a Good One: I Love It When a Plan Comes Together

  “Take this, you bastards,” I said as a wire cone passed over the Syndicate forces. I activated my comm, connecting to Heston.

  “Bring the pain, Commander.”

  “With pleasure, sir.” He cut the channel.

  Heston activated his comm to every fighter commander.

  “Get me some dreadnoughts,” he said as fighters who had been drifting behind the fleet dropped off after the second wormhole transition lit their drives, right among the Syndicate fleet in disarray.

  The fighters fired their missiles at point-blank range, following them up with their external rail guns and high-wattage lasers.

  The interesting thing about shields is they do great with direct energy, such as light energy and plasma. They don’t like kinetic energy, or nuclear as much, especially when that kinetic and nuclear energy is from multiple directions so shields have little time to compensate.

  Shield generators that were getting pounded on overloaded from the bombardment. Weapons fire hit the armored hulls of the ships.

  The battle cruisers had taken the hit on the nose; their ships and crew rolled from the massive damage. They were stunned and massively damaged, taken out of the fight, bleeding atmosphere and anything that wasn’t secured down. Catastrophic power surges from the lasers catching power circuits only added to the destruction. Power cores spat out of ships, trying to stop them from ripping apart the ships they were housed in.

  ***

  Eddie was tempted to jump as his HUD cut to what Resilient deemed vital information.

  “Commander Salchar, I take back everything I’ve ever said, you genius of a man!” Eddie whooped as he watched the end of the battle through his data pad. He and Shrift replaced a shield heat sink.

  Shrift grinned as he leaned against the wall, a tired smile on his face from having replaced heavy duty power relays. “Maybe I should tell him that,” he said as he slowed his breathing down.

  Eddie growled. “You’re becoming a slacker with your new jobs.” Eddie tucked the data pad away.

  Shrift followed him with a grin as the Syndicate forces moved to safer ground, out of reach from the PRC’s massive rounds.

  ***

  “All right now, let’s get everyone sorted out. I want ship statuses as well as repairs needed as fast as possible. Don’t think of this as the end of this battle. We still have lots to do. Main priority is guns and shields. They can accelerate for us at any time,” I said as Resilient was, thankfully, corralling the information I needed first.

  God, it’s great having an AI.

  “Medical bay is at capacity and requesting more medics,” Vort said.

  “Rick.”

  “On it.”

  I watched as my well-drilled team barked orders, watching the main screens as they loaded with the two separate fleets. My own screen showed wounded being loaded and shipped out to Hachiro, as well as preliminary reports from every ship’s chief engineer.

  Earth might call me some jumped-up little shit with too much power—and hell, I kind of was—but I was also a man looking out for me and mine. I had changed from the gaming legend to a man who would make the hard choices, have sleepless nights with the regrets, and tell the universe into which black hole they could shove it.

  Aftermath

  Admiral Kelu looked at his plot as his fleet retreated to safety. A bandage encircled his head and arm, and his bridge was a sea of sparks and emergency lighting.

  Who the hell is that? He kept on thinking as he looked over the enemy fleet’s tactics, with their timing and efficiency. Their ability to follow damned orders, he grumbled. He’d lost at least half of his ships because their captains were too damned stubborn.

  “Someone, deal with those damned fires!” Kelu snapped, his hand alarmingly close to his pistol as someone rushed to do so.

  “We’ve taken out the planetary cannons,” Pleuck said. He was a replacement for the previous tactical commander. His predecessor had been thrown into a piece of debris, piercing his liquid cleansing organ, making his death painful and offensive to every odor-sensing organ on the bridge.

  Kelu shifted his eyes to the casualty lists. His fist trembled slightl
y as it wished to use his holstered pistol. The bridge was quiet, nursing their own wounds. They were in shock or angry, but above all, not wanting to piss off their infamous commander and his quick draw.

  The enemy had whittled Kelu down to three dreadnoughts, nine battle cruisers, sixteen destroyers, fourteen cruisers, and thirty-one corvettes. Nearly a fifth of our original strength.

  He watched the footage of the fighters replay. He snarled, causing more than one person to double their efforts to look busy.

  Kelu had seen the lady’s carriers used exactly twice and their crews had made him respect the smallest of ships.

  Yet, while the lady’s fighters had been vicious with their attacks on those who had crossed her, these were like a cold instrument. They never fought as one. They always fought in groups, giving one another cover and making it so that they hit in barrages, not allowing shields to have time to recharge before their next hit.

  The lady’s fighters had only done that because there had been so many of them.

  “Urlow.” His quiet voice belayed the dark feelings the man who spoke the words was having. “Open a channel to that dreadnought.” He highlighted the dreadnought in question as Urlow worked on it.

  It was a few minutes later when Welick appeared. Admiral Kelu had memorized every ship commander of a ship that could do some actual damage. A creature in charge of a dreadnought was someone who definitely warranted his attention.

  Something’s not right, though. He looked at the scans of the dreadnought against those in his database. I thought so. The Golden Refuge showed that it had been fixed up, and not in a minor way either: it had new armor plating as well as weapons.

  “Come to accept terms of trade? As you can see, Jorsht is not without support,” Welick said as Kelu studied him intently.

  “Who are you?”

  Welick raised himself up in anger, his breathing flaps fluttering. “You dare ask who I am!” he said before relaxing. “It makes sense that the Lady Fairgate’s dogs would not know anything of us.” Welick snorted.