by Jay Allan
“Fifteen seconds…”
She stared, watching, waiting…but still nothing.
“Ten seconds…”
Her eyes burned, but she held them fixed, barely blinking as she waited for the move she knew would come. Only it hadn’t. Was I wrong?
“Five seconds…”
The doubts poured into of her mind, recriminations against herself, for allowing her paranoia to direct her actions. If she’d blasted her engines at full for no reason, she may have given Hermes away for no reason.
“Entering orbit…”
Then, she saw it. First, one of the ships. Then the rest of them, in succession. They were blasting their engines at what had to be at least nearly full thrust. She had been right, after all…and her last-minute maneuver had bought her some time, at least a few minutes.
Assuming half the fortresses in Megara orbit didn’t pick up our approach…
“Vig, commence transmission as soon as we’re in orbit…full power to the comm!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
CFS Tarsus
Inner Kuiper Belt
Venga System
Year 320 AC
“Launch all squadrons!” Sonya Eaton sat on Tarsus’s bridge, not even trying to hide the sweat pouring down the sides of her face or the stark, glassy look in her eyes. She was stretched almost to the limit, fighting back both fear and the recriminations her own mind inflicted on her. She’d issued the orders almost without thought of the consequences…but she hadn’t had any choice, and as crazy as it seemed, she knew her people were where they had to be.
She’d hesitated about taking the chance to scout for enemy units only one system from Venga, the blue-white star the planet Ulion orbited. Ulion was one of the Confederation’s seven Core worlds…and the first to fall to the Hegemony. She’d spent most of the last year hitting convoys en route to Ulion on their way to Megara…but she’d never dared to venture as close as one system away. The main enemy fleet was at Megara, of course, but there were very likely more than enough forces at Ulion to obliterate her forces.
Then she got the scanner readings. She’d caught an enemy convoy in-system. Not just in-system, but well on the way to the Venga transit point.
She’d launched an attack immediately, sending her bomber squadrons in with orders to hit the freighters hard. Then, the rest of the convoy emerged from behind one of the systems gas giants.
Twenty battleships. An awesomely powerful force…and she knew immediately she was seeing more than a supply convoy. Her scanners were clear about that. She was seeing more reinforcements bound for Megara.
Ships that would arrive just as Barron’s fleet was attacking.
It was a force vastly stronger than her own, one she couldn’t hope to defeat, or stop.
But just maybe she could delay it. A day, even a few hours, might make the difference.
She’d redirected her fighters toward the battleships, and her rookie pilots got their first taste of fighting enemy capital ships. The battleship hulls were nothing like the unarmored skins of the freighters, and while her squadrons scored an impressive number of hits, they fell short of taking down even one of the battleships. They did cause damage, however, enough to materially slow two of the giant vessels, and staring at the scanning reports, she realized what her people had to do.
The enemy wouldn’t know the fleet was attacking Megara, not yet…so there would be no undo urgency. If she could slow enough ships, maybe the others would drop back to maintain the formation until the damaged vessels could conduct repairs. That just might work. At least until word of Barron’s assault arrived.
Would it be enough time to make a difference? She didn’t know. Her best guess was, it would be close. But it was all her people could do, and she’d committed to it, then and there. Even though it almost certainly meant following the enemy into Venga…and exposing her people to whatever forces the Hegemony had stationed at Ulion.
It wasn’t as insane as it sounded, not quite. Both of the transit points, the one leading into Venga and the one leading out and toward Olyus, were deep in the outer system, far beyond the orbit of the eleventh planet. It would take time for anything stationed at Olyus to respond…and, if the Hegemony convoy continued on its course to Megara, the running battle would likely have moved on before Ulion-based assets could arrive.
And if the Hegemony ships altered course, if they moved in-system toward any relief forces…she would have completed her mission, prevented the enemy reinforcements from reaching Megara in time to intervene in the battle.
“All ships report squadrons launched, Captain.” Tarleton sat at his station, resolute as always. She knew he understood the risks she was taking, and why she was taking them, but he hadn’t let on to any of it.
She’d violated orders in telling Tarleton what the fleet was doing, and why their raiding force had been sent out ahead of schedule and in such a hurry. It was a court martial offense, perhaps even treason to a literal view, but she’d come to trust Tarleton, and, honestly, she didn’t think he’d rat her out if they tied him to a rack.
And, she needed one friend on this mission. Two, actually. She’d also told Hayes. Tarleton was a close comrade, someone else who understood what the fleet had to do and why…and just how far she would go, how many risks she would take to slow the enemy convoy.
And Hayes? She’d told him because she couldn’t see any other way he would lead his pilots into the nightmare she was about to put them through.
* * *
“Let’s go…all squadrons. I know most of you haven’t faced enemy warships before, save for the escorts with the convoys. Well, now you know what Hegemony battleships look like, and you’re going to find out how damned tough it is to hurt them.” Hayes’s tone was defiant, and he spoke as a man who’d battled against the Hegemony’s biggest and strongest battleships, but the truth was, he’d only seen them on the distance on his scanner, and he’d never flown his ship against anything bigger than a cruiser.
“I want to concentrate, to choose one of those monsters and throw everything we’ve got at it and see if we can blast the thing to dust…but that’s not what our comrades need us to do. We’ve got to slow these bastards down, and that means doing some engine damage to at least six or seven of them.”
Eaton had filled Hayes in on her plan, and every word out of her mouth had matched the ones his mind had already thrown at him. Whatever they did, they had to slow those things down. Hayes was one of the few in Eaton’s fleet who knew what was about to happen at Megara…and twenty more battleships would almost certainly shatter a plan that was already lying on a razor’s edge. Barron’s fleet needed his squadrons to keep those ships occupied, at least for a day or two. He and his people had to slow the enemy reinforcements down, keep them away from Megara until the battle there was won.
The only problem with that was, he was far from sure it was possible.
He ran his hand over the comm controls, sending out a pulse on the datanet. “Everybody, listen up. I just sent you six contacts. They should be highlighted on your screens now. Those are the ships we’re going to hit…and the only ones. I don’t want to see even one of you going after another battleship—or a freighter or an escort. We’ve got to stop those six battleships. If we can hit them hard enough, the rest of the convoy may have to slow to regroup.” They didn’t have to, of course, but that was Captain Eaton’s bet. Hayes figured it was a good one, and he couldn’t think of any other option.
He was tense as he listened to the chatter on the comm. He knew his pilots wouldn’t understand the true urgency of their mission, why they were throwing themselves at a line of massive battleships instead of picking off freighters as they’d done before.
He’d almost blurted it out, told them why he was about to lead them against the massive Hegemony killing machines again and again, without pause, without rest…as long as any of them were still alive and had ships that could fly. They deserved to know. But he’d been sworn to silence
, and he couldn’t betray Captain Eaton’s confidence. Even more importantly, as good as Confederation encryption was, he couldn’t be sure the enemy hadn’t broken the codes. The last thing he intended to do was risk alerting the Hegemony about Barron’s impending attack on Megara…to betray the secrecy of an operation he wasn’t even supposed to know about.
He nodded as the acknowledgements came in, a little late but reasonably sharp, nevertheless. He’d expected at least one or two green squadron leaders—almost half his people were newly assigned since the last mission—to question the orders, but none of them did. He wondered if it had been the grimness of his tone, or simply the fact that even his rookies understood the true stakes they were fighting for.
Or didn’t understand just what they were heading into.
It didn’t matter. They’d know well enough soon…and however many of them died in the first assault, it wouldn’t change a thing. He’d lead the survivors out again, as soon as their ships were refit. And again.
As long as necessary. As long as any of them were still alive.
“Let’s go, on me…straight through those escorts, and on to the battleships. Let’s show these bastards just what Lightning bombers can do!”
* * *
“We’ve got preliminary casualty reports from the fighter wing, Captain.”
Eaton had known the numbers would be ugly, even before the edge in Tarleton’s tone told her just how bad they were. But she had a mission to do, no matter what the costs, and exact loss figures weren’t going to do a damned thing to help her get through it.
“Not now, Commander.” She watched as the cluster of dots moved forward toward the enemy battleships. The escorts had taken their toll, as always, but Hayes’s formations were still in decent shape. The attack vector against the battleships was clearly a surprise to the enemy. It didn’t take a deep analysis to determine the Hegemony defenders had expected the assault to hit the convoy’s supply ships.
That’s a benefit we’ll only get one time. Once Hayes and his people hit the battleships, the enemy will know just what to expect from the second wave.
And the third wave, and the fourth…as many as it took.
“Fleet order, Commander…all ships, prepare to execute nav plan Sigma-4.” The fighters wouldn’t bear the entire risk, not on this mission. Eaton had needed to figure a way to do enough damage to the battleships…and however she’d tried to come at it, the end result was always the same.
She needed to get more bombing runs in…and that meant the rest of her ships had to come closer to the enemy that they had before.
Dangerously close.
“All ships report ready, Commander.”
She stared at the display. When she gave the command, her sixteen ships would blast their engines at full thrust, rapidly cutting the angle of their vector, and bringing them right in front of the enemy’s advance. Then, they would swing around again, allowing Hayes’s bombers to blast into their attack runs at high velocity, and continue on without requiring massive course chances to meet up with the carriers on the other side of the Hegemony formation. It was daring, dangerous…but it would shave almost two hours from the bombing wing’s turnaround time. And, that just might be the margin between success and failure.
She watched as a line appeared on the display, the projected course for her fleet, and she took a deep breath as she saw the closest point to the Hegemony convoy’s line of approach. She hoped to race across before the leading enemy escorts came within firing range, but she knew it was going to be close.
It was a risk, but no graver than those her pilots were taking…or anyone in the fleet.
The fleet will be on the way to Megara by now. Everything we’ve got left. One last push.
She wished she was with the invasion force, commanding a battleship under Admiral Barron as she had before…but even where she was, she felt like part of the grand assault. If she could keep these new Hegemony battleships out of the fight, her people would contribute more to victory than they ever could have done in the ranks at Megara.
She was edgy, tense, scared…for herself, for her people, and for the fleet heading to the titanic struggle about to engulf the Olyus system.
But there was something else, too. Excitement. A grim satisfaction that the fleet was no longer on the defensive, waiting for the enemy to come. Win or lose, Admiral Barron was taking the initiative, bringing the war to the enemy. If they were successful, the battle just might be the turning point of the war.
And, if they failed, well, Eaton would rather die on the attack, throwing all she had into a last lunge for victory than to hide and wait for inevitable doom and defeat, and she was pretty sure Barron and most of her colleagues felt the same way.
“Commander Tarleton, all ships…execute Sigma-4.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Marine One HQ
Ninety Kilometers South of Troyus City
Megara, Olyus III
Year 320 AC
“General Rogan! General Rogan!” The sergeant raced through the dark and damp corridor, shouting wildly as he did. The non-com had been a hardcore veteran even before the fighting on Megara, and he’d fought and survived a battle that had turned to an extermination, one which had claimed better than ninety-nine percent of his comrades. The man was as tough as they came. Which was why Bryan Rogan couldn’t understand the almost panicked shouting.
“What is it, Sergeant?” Rogan had been on his sleep period, which mostly meant lying on his lumpy cot, thinking about the plight of his Marines and trying to devise plans—any plans—that would allow him to damage the occupation forces, preferably without getting the rest of his people killed.
The major difference between sleep periods and the time he spent ostensibly on duty was that he usually closed his eyes when he was lying wide awake on the cot.
“We’re getting a message, sir…”
“A message? From one of the other strongholds?” His people were supposed to be on strict radio silence. They owed the fact that they hadn’t been found mostly to imperial old tech materials that shielded them from the enemy’s scanning attempts…and the fact that they just weren’t important enough for the Hegemony forces to make the effort to fully eradicate them.
“No, General…the Priority comm unit!”
Rogan had been sitting up on the cot, staring at the sergeant, but when the Marine’s words hit him, he felt his stomach shrink to about a tenth its normal size, and he leapt to his feet.
“The Priority line?”
“Yes, sir!”
Rogan lunged through the door and turned to race down the corridor, heading toward the communications station. He’d stopped in every day to check on the unit’s status, risked lives to secure batteries and other components to keep the comm unit active, assigned someone to monitor the thing every minute of every day, despite his declining numbers.
But he’d never really expected to really get a message.
Is it possible? Is the fleet back?
Even as the thoughts poured into his head, he rebelled against them, an instinctive reaction that told him just how little hope had truly remained to him. But when he stumbled into the comm room, he could hear it himself.
Voices weren’t always recognizable on communiques. Signal quality, transmission distance, and a hundred other things could affect replay quality. But Bryan Rogan knew Tyler Barron’s voice in an instant.
“Replay from the start, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer seated at the unit turned and moved his hands over the controls. The Marine was clearly excited, and he blurted out, “They’re coming, General. They’re really coming.”
Rogan stood behind the comm officer, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he listened as Tyler Barron’s words blared from the speakers.
“Bryan…I am sending this communique in the solemn belief that, despite the impossible situation in which you were left, I am confident that you found a way to survive, to endure, if not to maintain
the fight. If you are there, if any of your people remain fit for action, it is time. We are coming back…back to retake Megara, and you know we need every advantage we can get. The enemy can’t have repaired the orbital net, not in full. The ground stations around Troyus City must be relaying critical command and control orders to the orbital stations, and by relay, to the fleet.” There was a pause, several seconds, and Rogan could hear Barron taking a breath.
“Bryan, we need you now—I need you now. You have to disrupt the enemy command and control any way you can. I don’t know what forces you have left, what ordnance or equipment…but you have to find some way to take out those transmission units.”
Rogan could feel something inside. Fear, yes, and tension…but something else far stronger. He felt purpose again. His mind was already racing, planning. If he had a week, perhaps two, maybe he could…
“Thirty-six hours, Bryan. If Hermes delivered this message on schedule, the fleet will be coming through the transit point in thirty-six hours. That’s how long you’ve got.”
The final words were a gut punch, but only for a few seconds. Rogan didn’t care how long he had…he would find a way.
He would get it done.
“Sergeant…get everybody assembled at once. I want all officers here right now. Everyone else is to prep and be ready to go in two hours. Full combat gear…or the closest they can come. We’ve got an operation, a real operation. Finally, one that will make a real difference.”
“Yes, General.” There was a sound in the sergeant’s reply, something Rogan hadn’t heard in far too long. Pride. He knew he’d be leading his people into deadly danger, that, in all probability, most or all of them would die.
But he knew something else, too…and that was more important.