“If we can’t do it, nobody can. Meet me in the landing bay as soon as you arrive, we don’t have much time.”
“Sir.”
A massive flash from the right almost blinded the passengers of the lifeboat as one of the Confederate frigates ripped apart by an unseen weapon. There were no exterior fires, but they could see flashes and sparks throughout the inside of the vessel as she slowly broke into chunks.
“Did you see that?” asked Sergeant Lovett over the audio channel.
“Yeah,” replied a muted Spartan. “That looks like the particle weapon we saw at Euryale. The reports said it could explode ships with an invisible bean of particles. We have to disable her before she is able to turn on the rest of the fleet.”
* * *
Admiral Jarvis watched in anger as the escort frigate with hundreds of crew on board exploded into small fragments. There was nothing she could do but watch as so many people were literally cut to shreds and then hurled into the coldness of space. The CiC was packed with desperate officers as they helped co-ordinate the smaller Confederate fleet against the superior numbers of the Union. She glanced at her tactical display to check on the disposition of both sides. It was clear the enemy was in no immediate rush and were content to sit back and pound her ships into submission. Captain Tobler managed his crew with ruthless efficiency, maintaining high energy levels and coordinating weapons batteries against one enemy ship at a time.
“Concentrate all weapons fire on the lead cruisers. Target their missile batteries and engines.”
His XO shouted down the intercom to the gun decks to keep up the fire. A low rumble continued through the hull as the great warship did exactly what she had been built for. The loose formation of Confederate ships was facing off against a far superior force, and she needed quick and decisive action.
“Captain, bring us around and take us to the centre of their line, maximum power.”
“But, Admiral, with that much firepower against us, we won’t even hit their first line.”
She glared at him, and without adding another word the Captain gave the orders. She hit the fleet communications channel that would put her in contact with all the ships in her fleet.
“All Captains, form up inside the protective gun arcs of Crusader. Alter your targeting patterns for close ranged dispersal fire. Railguns switch to Sanlav rounds. I want a cloud of metal around us as we advance.”
Captain Tobler understood immediately what she was planning. The enemy was well matched for long-range combat with their powerful missiles but could be stopped with careful and controlled close ranged gunfire. If they could get close enough, the fleet could then break out and use their superior railguns to devastating effect in a close ranged gunnery duel.
“Admiral, Lieutenant Jane Matterson of CCS Furious is on the audio channel.”
“Good, I need the Furious.”
There was a short pause and more than a few crackles before the audio level lowered and became audible. A few more seconds after that and the video feed connected to show the acting commander of the Furious.
“Admiral, good to see you, we’re in a bad way.”
“No time for pleasantries right now, Lieutenant, you’ve done well. Now it is time to strike back. The Union fleet has formed up into two parallel lines in front of the entrance to the Spacebridge. They are facing us down with their broadsides pointing at Crusader. Take your cruisers and hit them from above and at the tip of the two lines. Push past the first vessels and run between the lines.”
“Admiral? They have almost thirty ships in that formation.”
“I am quite aware of that, but they are more concerned at our reinforcements. Crusader is more than a match for half of their cruisers.”
“What about Typhon’s ship?”
Admiral Jarvis glanced at her tactical screen to assess the situation.
“As expected, the Leviathan and her escorts are withdrawing back to their main line. She might be powerful, but a close ranged battle against us is too risky, at least not until they’ve reduced our numbers.”
“More ships on scanners, it’s Wasp!” cried the tactical officer.
The main screen shifted in focus from the battle to a line of glowing shapes. It was the rest of the fleet moving in reverse, and with their engines on full burn. In seconds they were just to the left of Crusader and the rest of the ships. One by one the IFF signals from each ship showed on the display, each one increasing the size of the Confederate fleet.
“I don’t know how they got here so quickly, and right now I don’t care. Twenty-three ships to thirty-one is more like it,” she mused to herself.
“Admiral, thought you might need a hand,” said the friendly and familiar tone of Captain Hardy, the commander of CCS Wasp, the powerful escort carrier and flagship of the newly arrived group of warships.
“Glad to see you, Captain. My tactical officer is sending over the full battle plan and details. I need your squadrons to provide a missile screen. This is the final battle, and I need everything you have in space hitting them.”
“Understood, Admiral. They are all ready. I will have birds in the air in less than three minutes.”
Admiral Jarvis nodded to herself. There was a chance, even a good one, that the Confederacy might win a resounding victory here. She looked back to her tactical board and watched the pieces move slowly into position. Off to the right the shapes of what remained of the mauled, but still functional, Furious Battlegroup. They were weakened, but the vessels were strong, and the Furious herself was one of the most advanced heavy cruisers in the fleet. Many parts of her design were similar to CCS Crusader. She was just slightly smaller and carried less weapon batteries. She ran her hand along the shapes of the ships, whispering their names as she recognised each and every one of them. CCS Crusader was of course the most prominent. To her flank was the still majestic CCS Santa Cruz, a massive ship, capable as both a heavy warship and as an amphibious marine transport. Two wings of cruisers spread around them, each blasting away to the front with dozens of railguns. CCS Yorkdale and her escort of four frigates brought up the rear.
She turned to her left to see the tell tale IFF icons. Each represented a single Confederate fighter squadron. She counted three already leaving Wasp, and yet more were preparing to launch. Between the two main groups of ships another batch of eight destroyers rushed about, each doing their best to cut down missiles and torpedoes as the Union fleet did its utmost to cripple as many ships as possible.
* * *
Wing Commander Anders checked the exterior of his Thunderbolt MK II fighter one last time. The fleet was running short of fighters, and this one was cobbled together from a damaged fuselage and a number of parts salvaged from the training module used as a simulator. In peacetime this would never happen, but after the losses sustained at Euryale, CCS Wasp had to manage with whatever parts were available. Finally satisfied it was as good as could be expected, he climbed the ladder and pulled himself down into the cockpit. As the two deck crewmen strapped him in, he remembered his last mission. The drifting in space, waiting and praying a friendly ship would find him before his oxygen ran out. It was a terrifying thing to have to do, and going back out there seemed to be getting harder with each mission.
“You okay, Sir?” asked the Chief.
“Yeah, just the usual nerves.”
The Chief nodded in agreement, “I know what you mean, Sir. Each battle leaves us with fewer birds and pilots. Just watch yourself and bring her home in one piece. A lot of love went into her.”
Anders smiled, doing his best to reassure the over-worked deck chief. He tapped the lock mechanism, and the canopy lowered itself down and locked into place. Without even thinking, he started running through his pre-flight checks. To both his left and right the rest of his squadron was doing the same. He was down to six fighters, rather than the eight he would normally take into battle. Combat losses and fighter attrition had whittled them down to the bare bones.
“
Angel Squadron, report in,” he spoke firmly into his headset.
As the pilots of each fighter reported back, he did a final diagnostic check on his weapons. Wilks, his navigator and weapons officer, spoke to him via the internal communications unit.
“Anders, I’m reading an error on the missile rangefinder. Other than that, we’re good to go.”
Anders shook his head, annoyed at the fact he would have to enter combat with a less than perfectly maintained fighter. Still, it was better than being stuck aboard Wasp while everybody else rushed out to fight. Satisfied the fighters were ready, and that there were no serious issues, he gave the signal to the leader of the air group who watched from a highpoint in the landing bay.
“Okay, Angels, you know the mission. Stay tight and watch for enemy torps and missiles. Let’s do this. Launch!”
The crew of the Wasp opened the exterior hatches of the landing bay and exposed the fighters to the harsh reality of space. There was no fancy catapult launch or massive thrust. The launch mechanism was tied in with the rotating section of the ship. The electro-magnetic clamps decoupled and centrifugal force simply threw them off, just like a child being thrown from a merry-go-round if it went too fast. As Anders’ fighter moved away from CCS Wasp, he hit the power and pushed away from the warship. His five companions did the same and formed up in a tight wedge formation. From their position, they had a perfect view of the unfolding battle. To their left was the uniform line of the Union fleet. At this distance most of the ships were too small to make out details, but the cruisers were easy to spot. Flickers of light along the ships indicated the firing of automatic cannons or impacts from railguns. The largest ship by far was the Leviathan, a ship that really was too substantial to be classified as a mere cruiser. Anders glanced quickly to the right to see his own fleet of vessels moving in a large wedge of their own, spearheaded by the Battlecruiser, CCS Crusader. The voice of his commander interrupted his view of the fleets. It was Colonel Gil-dong, the new leader of the fighter squadrons on board CCS Wasp.
“Gunboats are being launched to deal with the heavy warships. In the meantime, our job is to run diversionary attacks on the Union battle lines so that Crusader can get into position. The missile cruisers are the primary targets. We don’t need to destroy them, just get their missiles on us and off the heavies. All squadrons form up into formation Alpha, follow me in.”
Anders acknowledged the order and passed it on to his own group. The six fighters moved into position on the left flank of the group of twenty-two fighters. Most of the craft were the usual Lightning MK II fighters, but Anders spotted six Thunderbolt fighter-bombers lurking at the rear. These venerable craft were four-engine torpedo bombers with enough firepower to cripple a frigate. They dropped behind the more agile Lightning fighters.
“Like that’s going to help you,” snapped Anders as streaks of incoming fire clawed at their small group of fighters.
“Alpha Squadron, move in and attack the designated cruisers. Draw their fire, drop below then hit targets of opportunity.”
Anders checked over his shoulder to ensure his squadron was still intact. All six fighters were in position and ready for combat. He looked back in the direction of the nose of his fighter and at the line of heavy warships. To his right, the other squadrons accelerated ahead and to their own targets. Colonel Gil-dong had already chosen their targets, and each one was highlighted on the head-up display built into his helmet.
“Follow me, we’re going in!” Anders called out. At the same time, he pulled the boost lever that pumped substantial amounts of extra fuel into his already burning hot engine. The additional thrust accelerated his fighter and the rest of the squadron to their first target, a pockmarked and heavily scarred looking missile cruiser. They approached its flank at high speed. Dozens of small turrets blasted away, each gun sending hundreds of small flechette rounds that could destroy an engine or tear off a wing.
“Watch out!” shouted one of his wingmen as a dual stream of cannon rounds smashed around his fighter. Two clipped his left wing and ripped a metre-long section from it. No alarms flashed in the cockpit, so he hoped it was just superficial damage. The enemy cruiser was now within short-ranged weapons and vulnerable to the fighters.
“Now!” he shouted.
All six fighters released a pair of missiles each. It wasn’t enough to destroy even a frigate, but it was more than enough to cause irritation and minor problems for the ship. The fighters split apart in a cascading effect and blasted past the ship as the missiles struck home. A series of flashes along the hull showed they were all good hits.
“Level off and move to the second target. This time I want a cannon strafing run on their missile mounts and sensors.”
The fighters moved even closer to the enemy ships, each fighter swerving just metres from their hulls to make defensive fire as difficult as possible. One of the cruisers in the second defensive line must have either made a mistake or been crewed by rookies, as they opened fire with heavy cannons only to hit one of the missile cruisers. Massive chunks of metal tore from the ship, and at least one shell must have penetrated the hull as the cruiser split in half from a colossal blast.
“Great work, Angels,” said Colonel Gil-dong. “Keep up your run then redirect to provide cover for the Furious Battlegroup. They are moving in to start their own attack run.”
Anders altered his course slightly and checked his guns.
“Wilks, I’m getting alerts on the guns, have we got a problem?”
“Negative, the ammunition sensors are off-line. She’ll work, but watch the tracer. They’ll run dry without warning.”
“Understood.”
A squadron of Lighting fighter-bombers rushed past from right to left, and unleashed at least a dozen skua anti-ship missiles. One bomber exploded, and a second one lost an engine from gunfire unleashed from the enemy flagship, Leviathan. With a quick tap on the stick, he connected to the Colonel.
“Sir, what about the Leviathan? She’s dominating the battle.”
“Negative, do not move anywhere near her. Crusader and the capital ships will deal with her. Our job is to keep the cruisers busy, understood?”
“Sir.”
Anders flicked the stick to avoid an approaching missile and locked onto his next target, another missile cruiser that was already taking heavy fire from CCS Furious, a damaged but powerful Confederate heavy cruiser.
“Angel Squadron, follow me in!”
As streams of fire poured in from the cruiser, the six fighters blasted towards the capital ship. Each of them fired their cannon in long, deadly bursts. At the same time, volleys of railguns blasted bulkheads and armoured plating off. For a second, Anders thought it was progressing well, that was until he glanced back and saw the size of the Union fleet compared to the two small groups of Confederate ships. A moment of doubt gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. A warning light from his missile detection panel lit up and sent a surge of adrenalin through his body.
“ECM active, I’ve got it locked down!” called out Wilks from his position at the front of the fighter.
* * *
CCS Crusader and CCS Santa Cruz were well in range now and sustaining an incredible barrage of missiles and cannon fire. The defensive screen put up by the small force was impressive, but for every ten missiles or shells they destroyed, one got through. A section over thirty metres long was twisted and bent from the starboard flank of the marine transport, and a number of lifeboats were drifting in the area of the breaches.
“All ships, switch to close range gunfire, bring down those cruisers!” shouted Admiral Jarvis onto the fleet open channel.
In a matter of seconds, the close ranged sanlav rounds switched to conventional solid shot. Streaks of plasma gushed from the gunports as hundreds of heavy metal projectiles smashed into the cruiser, each one causing devastating damage. With manual defensive fire now being used to protect the fleet, the Crusader started to take continuous hits from gunfire. The XO shouted ove
r the din of the impacts.
“Captain, heavy damage to the bow. We can’t take much more of this.”
Captain Tobler shook his head and pointed at the enemy ships on the viewscreen.
“No time for damage reports, just get us in the heart of the fight. Nobody stops firing until we have destroyed every single ship in their fleet.”
The XO stared at him for a second and then turned back, issuing orders. On the main screen the hulk of the enemy flagship, Leviathan, loomed large. Scores of gun mounts blasted away at Crusader, but she gave back as good as she took. Admiral Jarvis cracked her head on the display unit as a massive blast shook the CiC. The impact stunned her, but she was still conscious.
“What the hell was that?” she snapped, though unsure as to whom she was speaking to.
“It’s the Leviathan. She’s turning from the line. We took a single hit from her particle beam weapon as she moved.”
“What is her course?”
There was confusion for a few seconds as the crew tried to establish what was going on. The battle had degenerated into a series of duels between small numbers of ships. The tactical officer finally turned back and shouted over the noise.
“She’s withdrawing to the Spacebridge, Admiral.”
“What?” she demanded. “Why?”
She watched the screen as two cruisers covered the withdrawal of the deadly enemy vessel. A number of Lightning fighters pursued but two were quickly destroyed by gunfire before they turned back.
“What is the status of the fleet?” she said, trying to decide whether to stand or pursue.
“Only half our ships are still able to keep up the fight. The Union fleet has suffered the same casualties. We’re still outnumbered, but at this rate the battle will be a stalemate. With the withdrawal of Leviathan, we might be able to force a tactical victory here,” said the tactical officer, doing his best to put some kind of positive spin on the battle.
Fall of Terra Nova Page 30