by Chris Hechtl
“We've still got our sublight engines but half of our reactors are scrammed. We barely have shields. All the weapons on the starboard side are gone. Most of the dorsal and ventral weapons are out. For how long I don't know. The armor on the starboard side is shot. We've also lost the boat bays and magazines on the starboard side. We're lucky they were mostly empty,” Captain Baker reported after he spoke with DCC. “Admiral, we can't engage, not in this state,” he said then began to cough. “Damn it!” he snarled in anger.
“Understood. Do what you can,” the admiral growled just as the channel opened to Black Corsage. “Gutt? I thought you were damaged? I should have known you were playing possum,” the admiral said wryly.
“You are getting old, Leo. Fight to run away, Admiral,” Captain Gutt reminded him.
“Right,” the admiral said. He noted the surviving enemy fighters had backed off when he'd unleashed the nukes in their face. They were shaping a course to come back at him, getting their bombers under control. The surviving gunboats had managed to get outside his ship's weapons envelope and were headed out of sight. “Helm, make for the Tortuga jump point at our best speed.”
“We're still assessing structural damage, Admiral,” engineering warned.
“We'll either make it or we won't. Get us moving now,” he growled.
Captain Baker let out a sigh of relief. The admiral glanced at him but merely pursed his lips and looked away. It might seem like it was over, but he had his doubts.
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“Damn,” Shelby muttered as she saw the battlecruiser and one of her heavy cruiser consorts take the hits but remain under power. “Tough ship.”
“The battlecruiser is a Tauren build. They built them with a lot of interior structural supports and armored bulkheads.”
“I know. Turtles with heavy weapons,” Shelby murmured, noting all seven surviving enemy ships change course for the Tortuga jump point. “I think that sucked the fight out of them,” she observed.
“I think it'd suck the fight out of anyone,” Cynthia said.
“Ma'am, Commander Coglin is on the horn, he's asking if should send the bombers in. They'll be past Bingo fuel limits after the engagement though,” the comm rating warned.
“Does he have any fuel birds on deck?” Shelby asked.
“No, ma’am. By the time they launched and got to the bombers, the bombers would be a dead stick,” Lieutenant Prometheus reported, putting the information up on the plot for Shelby to see for herself.
“Comm to all ships, follow the enemy force. Raise the CAG, tell him anyway he can get that bomber mission in there and recovered; I'm all for it,” she ordered. “If he can't hit the warships; then focus on the support ships. Bleed them and the warships might fall back to cover them,” she said.
“Aye aye, ma’am,” Lieutenant Jardin acknowledged.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
“Message to all ships. He who falls behind is left behind. Make for the Tortuga jump point. But if any wish to overtake Black Death, it will be the last thing they ever do,” the admiral growled.
“Aye aye, sir,” the comm rating said, then began to cough again.
“Stow that. Go to suit oxygen if you have to, mister! And someone get this compartment cleared,” the captain barked.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Low on fuel, the surviving pirate fighters, all three of them, fell back on Booty Call since the warships had closed their surviving boat bays in an attempt to deal with their internal damage. The freighter had to clear her boat bay in order to allow them on board. By the time they got there the enemy fighters had reached the outer engagement zone. The pilots of the fighters cursed since there was nothing they could do to stop them. All they could do was watch and pray like the crew. It was a different experience for them; the tables had turned. It was an experience none of them enjoyed.
Over the course of the next day, the Federation fighters picked at the retreating ships in a series of passing raids. They only had enough fuel to get in and make one or two passes before they had to return to their mother ships to refuel and rearm. Each time they recovered and launched again Admiral Ishmael ordered a course change, just enough to throw them off their game.
It didn't stop the fighters and bombers from hitting the slower support ships. One by one they were hammered until they lost their drive and drifted, helpless. Frantic calls to the flagship for support were ignored. Instead, missiles were sent out by the flagship to destroy the drifting ships to keep them out of enemy hands. Three of the freighters were destroyed before Commander Coglin's fighters turned and fended off the next missile spread. Booty Call and 8116 survived to turn away from their former comrades and offer parlay.
Shelby allowed nothing less than full unconditional surrender. The pirate crews reluctantly accepted what little mercy she offered them.
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Three days later after their arrival and the beginning of the long battle, the various crews on both sides of the conflict as well as the civilians watched silently as Black Corsage and Black Death fired into the defenses around the jump point. Nuclear fire cleared their path like demonic brooms. Weapon platforms spat return fire but it was sporadic at best. The two warships jumped for Tortuga while still under attack by the relentless fighters.
“Damn. I wish we could have gotten them. Made a clean sweep,” Lieutenant Brudbaker growled.
“Beggars can't be choosers,” Lieutenant Pan said.
“I know, but they'll be back. They'll always come back,” the tactical officer said, voice hoarse with fatigue. “Look what happened with Protodon and those two battlecruisers,” he said.
“You would remember that,” Lieutenant Portia said in disgust. “The good news is, we did enough damage that they won't want to come back here anytime soon. Those ships will need months of time in a real yard. I don't know if they've got one.”
“Don't count on it. The spooks said the same about those ships in Protodon too, remember?”
“You are a ray of sunshine, aren't you?” Portia replied with a sniff.
“Hey, look on the bright side. It looks like we survived,” Lieutenant Pan said with a tired smile.
“Don't jinx it,” Lieutenant Prometheus replied dryly.
“Sorry,” the Ops officer said sheepishly. “I could sleep for a week,” he said wearily as he yawned and then stretched.
“I … yeah, it’s all over but the crying,” Portia said.
Shelby turned a guilty look to Cynthia. The XO, like each of them, had rarely left the bridge in the past three days. Cynthia slowly rose from her station. “If you'll excuse me, ma'am,” she said quietly, eyes not meeting Shelby or any others in the ensuing silence.
Shelby nodded. Her heart went out for her friend and colleague. “Understood,” she said softly.
The bridge was quiet as Cynthia left, shoulders back but head down.
Chapter 50
“This is Commodore Shelby Logan to the people of Tau-1252. We have met the enemy and he has been beaten back with grievous losses. Only two ships of their twenty managed to run with their tail between their legs. We have won the day and the field is ours. Please go back to your lives in peace. We will inform you through the regular news channels about the battle and memorial for the dead at a later time. Commodore Logan out.
Shelby scrubbed her tired face as she checked over the butcher's bill. It was high. Already ships that could move under their own power were headed to the yard or Prometheus. Tugs had been dispatched to the ships that had little or no engines; they would get them moving within a few days.
The marines from the heavy cruisers had boarded the captured ships. Prize crews had taken control of them and the personnel were sequestered in the brigs for later processing. Lieutenant Slatterly was on her way out to oversee the interrogations of the people from the ships. The freighter 8116 had a small prize crew; the original crew had been killed and spaced. She had no sympathy for them. The other ship, Booty Call, had a sull
en group on board. Both ships had been taken intact with intact navigational databases. That was a high prize for her. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to think such data was worth the lives though.
The butcher's bill was indeed high she thought as her tired mind wandered down that path once more. She'd gotten off relatively lightly compared to the enemy however. She'd lost two gunships, two corvettes, three frigates, two destroyers … her mind shied away from the thought of Knife Dancer, Far Sight, and several crippled or derelict ships like Sybil Harper.
Plus, twenty precious fighters and their pilots she reminded herself.
Every ship that had been in Janice's force had sustained damage and casualties. Those crews were going to be light she thought, trying to figure a way to deal with it. After a moment, she gave up.
“You need to sleep, Commodore,” Boni murmured in her ear.
“I know,” Shelby replied, fighting a yawn. Her hands didn't shake; she had too much control over her implants to allow that. But she still felt the fatigue.
“I'll help with the post battle chores. Go to bed before the doctor comes around and orders me to relieve you of duty and sedate you, ma'am,” Boni said.
“Okay, okay, you win,” she said as she rose. Heads turned to her. “Lieutenant Prometheus, you have the bridge,” she said.
“Aye aye, ma’am,” the ship's A.I. replied quietly as the commodore's body finally won out and a yawn ripped through her. “Good night.”
“Night,” Shelby mumbled as she carefully made her way through the ship to her quarters and her waiting rack.
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“You heard the commodore's broadcast ladies and gentlemen, the threat is over,” Rachel Trejo said, feeling intense relief she could barely suppress with a professional mask. “In the coming days, we'll undoubtedly have more to report as the navy releases video of the battle. And I hope to have some guests on to explain it when they become available. But we can all thank the navy for its bravery and sacrifice against tremendous odds,” the woman said. “They won the day, now we can all breathe a sigh of relief,” she said.
“Now, we have some footage from colonies who managed to get a telescope on the scenes of the battle. I warn you; they are a bit grainy and dark due to the distances involved. We'll do our best to interpret what we see for you …”
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Governor Ariadne heard the commodore's broadcast and sat back in relief as her people broke out into cheers. She turned to see the news reporter the navy had brought with them go on and on about the victory with promises of footage soon. “They did it. The son of a bitches really did it,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Suddenly, her whole mindset began to open up for her. The fear, terror, and helplessness were behind her. They were still lurking there, in the shadows, but for the first time she felt true hope for a better future, not just for her and her people in the star system, but for everyone in the sector.
She grunted when the room began to settle down again. “Comm, send our regards and deepest gratitude to the navy and contact Mister Muggs. I think it's time we start those talks up about formally joining the Federation,” she said.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Shelby surveyed the long lines of officers and enlisted in uniform in the boat bay. Clearing the busy boat bay and getting it ready had been hard on the crew, but as usual they'd gotten it done.
Getting through the ceremony had been terrible for her as well as many of the people there, even harsher for Cynthia who had stood at her side throughout it. She'd sneaked a look at her XO as the taps were played and saw the tears trace down the woman's face.
She remained almost serene during the rest of the ceremony for the dead. When it was finished, Shelby patted Cynthia on the back and shoulder. “I'm sorry for your loss,” Shelby murmured, feeling like a heel for saying those words. They sounded so trite, so … wrong even if they were accurate. Cynthia gave her a wan smile and nod. Then Shelby had to go attend to other grieving members of her naval family.
Portia came over and stood next to her colleague. Cynthia stared out into the void. The local star was distant. The few caskets that had been sent toward it would take months to get there. “It's hard to mourn him. I know he's gone, but there is no body, just a cloud of plasma,” the blond woman said quietly.
“Cynthia, it’s okay to grieve, to cry,” Portia murmured, rubbing her friend's shoulder.
“Oh, I did. Trust me on that,” Cynthia said in a pained voice. “Cried myself a river. Vlad would have loved it,” she said, voice becoming a bit giggly but also watery. “Except the snuffling part, he always threatened to blow his own nose on me if I did it too …,” her voice strangled and cut off as she fought sobs. The Neopanda patted her shoulder in sympathy. Cynthia turned and hugged her colleague as her grief temporarily overwhelmed her.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
“What would you have done if they had asked for an alliance, ma'am?” Lieutenant Prometheus asked. Shelby turned to the A.I. and raised an eyebrow at him. “I'm just curious, ma'am,” he said.
“Thinking about it now, I don't see any other outcome than what went down. I think they realized that they couldn't change the past or themselves, and there was no forgiveness for their misdeeds,” Shelby said slowly.
“Most likely true, ma'am,” the A.I. replied.
“Besides, I wouldn't have been able to trust them as far as I could throw them,” Shelby replied with a snort. “I wouldn't have minded a more peaceful resolution, like, say their surrender, but we don't always get what we want, now do we?”
“No, ma’am.”
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
“I don't understand,” Phoebe said aghast, staring at the man before her as her mind gibbered about. Her plans, all her plans for his future seemed to be coming to a strange halt.
“I signed up for a five-year hitch as enlisted. I already have experience on the ship and engineering experience,” Ayumu said as he continued to pack. “It's no big deal, Mom,” he said.
“But … but …”
“If this is a bit of excess patriotism, son, it will fade in time,” Fred warned, crossing his arms.
“It's not,” Ayumu said, looking up to his dad then going back to folding his shirts. He didn't need any of the civilian gear, but he wanted to put it all in a locker for later. He wasn't certain what his parents were going to do. His mother had been pretty shrill about going back to the Federation where it was safe. “I've been thinking about it for a while now,” he admitted.
“How long?” Fred asked, nodding slowly. “And … enlisted son? I know you can do better,” he said.
“I've been thinking about it for weeks,” Ayumu said. “Off and on, longer,” he said with a shrug as he tried to zip up the overstuffed bag. He grunted to get it closed, then ended up just zipping it as far as it would go, then using the handles to keep it closed.
“As far as enlisted over officer … well, that's all they have available here for the moment. I think if I keep my nose clean and work hard, I'll make noncom in a year or less the way the navy is expanding.”
“When they start expanding again. Right now, they have to make up for losses,” his father said darkly.
“True,” Ayumu admitted. He took a chance to look at his parents. Phoebe was shocked and still off balance. His father though, his father seemed strangely serene almost … proud.
“I can't go to the academy; there isn't one here. But I can mustang to officer once I become a noncom. There is a system for that and the chief I talked to told me it will be set up within a year,” he said.
“Schooling at the academy would be better, but if you are planning an engineering track, this might be more beneficial for you. Do you have any place in mind yet?” his father asked.
“That's up to the navy. I'm betting with my experience on the line they'll stick me in the yard or a production facility,” Ayumu said as he finished bagging his shoes.
“But …,” his mothe
r looked distressed.
“They need the bodies, Mamma, and I know the routine. We spent three years on a ship getting here! I thought I'd be glad to be off one, but after what I just saw …,” Ayumu shook his head.
“But … but … but you could die!” his mother wailed.
Ayumu bit back a retort that he wouldn't die. He knew better now. He also knew you could get hurt or killed working at any job, even just exercising. “Then I'd be in good company,” her son said with an air of maturity that belied his youth. He glanced at his father for support.
Fred patted him on the shoulder. “Do good work, son,” he said.
“I will Dad. Like you,” Ayumu said gruffly as the two males embraced.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
A week after the battle repairs were well underway. The least hurt ships did their best to cover the jump points with the re-positioned surviving missile pods and weapon platforms. Ships that had taken the worst damage had been towed to the yard and their crews had been pulled off for the time being. Others like Zeng He were alongside a factory ship waiting for parts. Two of the destroyers had been returned to service and were covering the Tortuga jump point.
Boni and Shelby's staff did their best to deal with the post battle paperwork. Medal recommendations were still being processed. They were aware that virtually all medals would have to be reviewed by a board back home so it wasn't a high priority.
The commodore spent a great deal of her time initializing replicators to make replacement parts that weren't in their inventory. The logistics stations had quickly run out of the required parts.
Prometheus remained on station near the Tortuga jump point. Once the ships had been settled down, the tugs split up between pulling in more raw material and rearranging the defenses. The first orbital fortress had been on its way to the Tau-1929 jump point before the battle. The tugs that had been assigned to tow it changed course and towed it to the Tortuga jump point. Lieutenant Fixer led her Spacebee team and a select group of civilians to work on the fortress even while it was underway. Together they had managed to complete the core habitat, power, and other minimum modules to bring the asteroid online.