Nervous and ignoring any semblance of military bearing, he reached up and wiped a limb over several of his eyes. It was a nervous habit he couldn’t stop. “Ma’am, that is the system the video came from. The one showing total destruction of a fleet. The one with the strange music.”
“I know which one!” shouted Raylortah as she scrambled back to her command dais. “Form a wide wedge on Screaming Fate,” she shouted over her task force’s command link. “Entangler,” she continued, “you will begin firing rapid volleys as soon as they are in range. Take out the three largest ships. We will deal with the rest. We may face nearly double our number, but it doesn’t matter. They have never felt the sting of Bleeve missiles. We will destroy them and turn in to help the fleet put an end to this Salvage System’s ships. Perhaps we will be chosen to lead the invasion on their home. Glory to the queen!”
She did not know if her six ships could defeat eleven. As a commander, she’d never faced odds like these. Hearing her entire bridge crew shout ‘Glory to the queen’ along with the commanders on the link gave her even more hope in the missiles loaded in the launchers.
Later, when the Salvage ships launched right before her force was in range to do the same, she realized perhaps the belief in the power of their missiles would not be enough. The tactical officer announced sixty missiles were inbound and tracking the ship. The missiles weren’t all offensive weapons; some were scrambling. It would be up to the defense lasers and shields to save her ship.
Their missiles passed Salvage Fleet’s, with sixty missiles heading toward Screaming Fate, and eighty aimed at Entangler. Too late, she realized the danger. The incoming ships didn’t spread their targeting around, ignoring the other ships in her force. For now.
The blows against the shielding and her ship nearly knocked her from the dais. “Report!” she screeched. “Get me a report!”
She couldn’t see her tactical officer for the smoke filling the bridge, but she heard him call out, “Forward shields are down! There is massive damage to the forward decks. Several launchers are offline.”
“Turn!” she ordered. “Turn away! Continue launching with the others. Get some shielding between us!”
Engrossed in saving her own ship, she had no way of knowing only fifteen of the one hundred and twenty missiles launched by the carrier in its first two salvos made it through the scramblers and massive laser defenses. The missiles fired by the other ships in her force were spread around, damaging shields without penetrating in their first volley. She didn’t know the second salvo did actual damage.
She never thought to turn the fighters in the bays of her ships loose before two more salvos of missiles penetrated, causing a chain reaction deep in the power plant. The battlecruiser split in two as explosions blew it apart.
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
The Reckoning
Task Force Bravo
Captain Ellotta sank slowly into his chair. He stared at the main screen, waiting. It was a bit blurry, so he reached up and wiped the sweat from his eye. He didn’t bother with the other. It was already swollen shut. The screen flickered, and he heard his bridge engineer call out, “I’ve restored the power to the screen, sir. You can use video.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kort,” Ellotta acknowledged. “See what you can do about helm. We’re running off the backup console, but I’d feel better if the main was in operation.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the chief warrant officer as the Leethog sat down and began the process of opening the front panel with both hands and a foot, all holding power tools.
One the main screen, Commodore Tomeral’s image appeared. “We’re connected, sir,” called out an ensign. The communications officer was on the way to sick bay with a shattered arm.
“Harmon,” Ellotta said, “we took them out, but not without cost. Justice Served is out of the fight. Zywetnik and his crew have been able to bring a fusion plant online, but it’s at eight percent and fluctuating. The good thing is, the temperature is holding in the yellow. It’s enough to ensure the environmental systems work, and repairs can begin. They’re doing some major rerouting, since that plant was mainly for the quarters and other non-essential areas.”
“Frost,” Harmon exclaimed. “I know two of the light battlecruisers and a destroyer are total losses, and you started rescue already. Bahroot has been relaying what he could determine. Let me know when you get a count on crew members. What’s the status on the others?”
“We’re in bad shape,” Ellotta admitted. “I’ve got two cruisers at less than fifty percent shields, one with no shielding at all on its port side, two damaged destroyers that I ordered to pair up because one has only three launchers working, a heavy with only two engines and major damage to multiple decks, another light with one fusion plant, and a destroyer that’s not in bad shape out collecting the few rescue pods that ejected and acting as a big sick bay.”
“Squat,” Harmon said through gritted teeth. “What’s the status on your ship?”
“Not any better,” admitted Captain Ellotta. “The crews brought the forward shields up to sixteen percent, which is not bad, considering we lost them for a few minutes. We’re down an engine, and I can’t launch fighters until we work on the bay door. We may have to cut a section out.”
“Fix what you can,” Harmon said with a sigh. Ellotta watched him run his fingers through his hair. “Move to high guard and stay more or less stationary up above. If the Bleeve send in any reinforcements, you’ll be able to get off a volley or two of missiles at their engines and thrusters. I doubt they’ll send any in moving slow. So there’s that, anyway.”
“Will do,” Ellotta said. He reached up and probed his swollen eye with two fingers. “You know, if we hadn’t had nearly double the ships they had, I don’t know if we could have taken them out. You’re headed to their main force with almost even numbers.”
“I know,” Harmon said. “Their missiles pack more of a punch than any of us realized. I’m hoping the pulse cannons on some of our ships will be the deciding factor.”
“Well, stay out of reach of their main lasers. That’s what did the most damage to us. They burn through shields and open ships up as fast as the Gritloth lasers did. I suspect the technology is similar.”
“Yeah, that’s what Bahroot reported,” Harmon agreed. “We’ll try and keep it extreme range. I’m sorry you had to get up close; it seems the Bleeve have upgraded their weapons since the last time they fought any type of battle for us to study. Rick and his fleet will have to take on three of their task forces. They made a break for the planet Zynalt about two hours ago, and it’s a race. If they meet before then, it’ll still split the battlefronts, and may give us the final edge we need.”
“I sure hope so,” Ellotta said, “because we may have won the battle out here, but we got our asses kicked at the same time.”
“The war’s not over, E,” Harmon said, using his nickname. “Not by a long shot. Once we own the system, we have to take back the planet. Out here.”
Captain Ellotta sat back and looked around at the devastation in front of him as repair crews scrambled to fix what they could. God help the ones going to the surface, he thought. They face four-to-one odds.
* * *
Salvage Title
Harmon sat forward in his command chair and looked closer at the main screen. All the symbols for Salvage Fleet, the Kashkal fleet, and Bahroot’s location were showing, as were the symbols for the Bleeve fleet. He didn’t like what he was seeing. Eighteen of the Bleeve ships had separated and headed toward the same planet as Rick Kashka and his fleet. It split the enemy’s forces, but took away the flank attack he’d been counting on.
“Jayneen,” he called out to the overhead speakers, “what’re the odds Rick will get to the planet first to use it as a slingshot?”
“Zero,” Jayneen answered from down in the defensive bridge. “There are no odds. The Kashkal speed isn’t sufficient to overcome how much closer the Bleeve are to the pl
anet than the Kashkal are at this time. I came to this conclusion using the highest speed observed by the Kashkal since we became allies. It’s not possible.”
“Squat!” exclaimed Harmon. “I hate the odds you give. I don’t know why I asked. From now on, even if I ask, never tell me the odds.” He engaged the comms on his chair.
“Kashkal’s Legacy, Salvage Title,” he said.
“Commodore Tomeral,” Rick answered as he came up on the main screen. “It’s a good day to do battle, is it not?”
“It is when the cause is just, Rick,” Harmon said, unable to control a grin. “Looks like there’s a change in plans.”
“We are aware,” Rick answered. “Young Ensign Bahroot is providing updates as you ordered. I have been considering our options.”
“What are you thinking?” Harmon asked.
“By my calculations, they will come around the planet before we reach it,” Rick answered. “I think separating my task forces is the best plan. It may split them and allow an angled attack.”
“Yeah,” Harmon agreed. “It might.” He paused a moment, thinking. He jumped from his seat, moving toward the main screen, and said, “I got it. Use their speed against them. Turnover, slow as fast as you can. I’m betting they keep coming.”
“Yes,” Rick said, sitting upright. “Yes. We will be able to fire at least two salvos of missiles at them before they can fire back because of the missiles’ range. They will fly into our missiles’ maneuverability range and face them before we have to defend against their missiles. Our third salvo will be on the way right before they launch.”
“Right,” Harmon said, “then you split in a hurry and hit them in an X pattern as you get up to battle speeds.”
“This is a sound plan,” Rick observed. “One worthy of study in the years to come. A stationary platform has the advantage of firing before an enemy comes within range. It is simple math.”
“How quickly can you accelerate once you’ve launched the third salvo?” Harmon asked. He was still learning the capabilities of his allies’ ships.
“We have made modifications and adjustments necessary to increase their capabilities over the last year and a half,” Rick assured him. “When we break our formation and split into task forces to perform the maneuver, we may move outside their first salvo’s range as well. Especially if they fire at the edge of their missiles’ capabilities. We can accelerate quickly, my friend, rest assured. With the programming skills of Lieutenant Commander Jayneen, young Bahroot, and Commander Kolget, our system’s combined shipyards allow so much more than our tenders alone could do. For that, once again, you have my thanks.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s not necessary,” Harmon answered with his typical grin. “You just said the key word. Our. It’s our system. The planet Salvage, the planet Evermore, the whole system. Ours. Us. We. Sure, I and my Associates technically own it, but that’s not the way I view it. It belongs to all of us residing there.”
“I have never heard a more profound statement, my friend.” Rick observed. “Ever.”
* * *
Power Plant
Salvage Title
“Hey, Zerith,” Harmon asked. “What’s that?” He pointed to a bowl full of wood chips.
“Lernip tree bark,” Clip answered for his friend. “Zee usually has a bag or two down here. They’re not bad, actually.” He reached for a handful. “The Nilta are farming their blooms on several islands on Salvage. They’re shipping a bunch of the sweetener back to Nilta for resale.”
“They are very tasty,” Zerith confirmed. “Sometimes I add a few drops of Joobla oil to give them a little kick.”
“Ahhhhhh,” screamed Clip as he looked left and right for something to drink. “What the frost, Zee!”
Kyla handed him a liquid bulb with a straight face. “Here, sir,” she said. “It is water.”
Kyla looked at Vera, Vera looked at Kyla. The two Leethogs both looked at Harmon and Zerith. Everyone burst out laughing. Clip was too busy trying to put the fire out in his mouth. His eyes were watering, and he kept gagging. Very few humans could eat Joobla fruit, much less the oil extracted from them.
“Ok, back to business,” Harmon said, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard. “We’ll be in range in less than two hours, so we need to get back to our stations. Do you think we should try it?”
“The dessign iss good, Clip’ss programming iss good,” Zerith answered. “The only question that remains is can we pull that much power at once?”
“And how long will it take to regain it,” added Vera, looking over at Kyla.
“It is ready to use,” Kyla said, “but we did not test it. I can give you an estimate, but I cannot give you an exact recharging time. Perhaps a minute, maybe two?”
“Harmon, I agree with Zerith and Kyla,” Jayneen said from the overhead speakers. “The design is good, so it should work. Only a few changes were made from the schematics I discovered in the shipyard’s files. Clip’s work on it is a combination of that which I taught him of the Grithelaon programing and his own intuition. I can find no flaws in it. Zerith and his crew of technicians built it exactly to specifications. Two minutes would be my guess, though guessing isn’t something I’m comfortable doing. If the ship is damaged, it may take longer.”
“Well,” Harmon decided, “if it comes down to it, I may order its use. I mean…what could go wrong?”
“Oh. My. Creator,” Jayneen uttered and was quiet.
“Dude, you’re never going to learn, are you?” Clip asked, throwing his hands up in the air, disgusted. “Zee, see if Big Jon will send an extra couple members of the repair crew down here. You’re probably going to need them.” He grabbed another bulb of water.
Zerith looked down and sighed. “A wisse ssuggesstion, my friend. I would ssuggesst an extra fire ssuppressant ccylinder at your conssole.”
“I’m way ahead of ya, man.” Clip wiped his mouth, turned, and left the area.
Harmon looked over at Kyla and Vera. Instead of nodding their heads in unison, they were shaking their heads from side to side in disappointment as they walked away.
“What? What did I say?” Harmon asked. He looked around and realized he was now alone as he saw Zerith’s tail disappear around a corner.
* * *
Sweet Pea
Cameron reached up to push his glasses back up his nose and asked his pilot, “Hey, are we close or what?”
“Yep,” Ralph said. “About ten minutes, and we let the brothers loose. We kick the missile boxes off three minutes after that. Say, can you come over and watch my console? I need to take a break.”
“Sheesh!” Cameron exclaimed. “If you would quit drinking all that coffee, this wouldn’t happen.” He stood up, and, with slightly extended arms, he jumped and glided off the raised area where his chair was located in the center of the bridge.
“It’s not my fault, man,” complained his pilot and XO. “Bradford got me hooked on it. Blame him.”
“Next thing you know you’ll have a cigar hanging out of your mouth,” Cameron chided. “Hurry back, I need to call the guys.” He sat down in Ralph’s seat at the main helm console. He scooted an empty snack bag and a half full cup over so he could put an elbow down and lean on it.
Cameron looked around at the other Lormell on the bridge. For the hundredth time, he wondered if he should hire some crewmembers outside of his race, and for the same hundredth time, he answered himself. His race was descended from a flying species. Even he had to admit they looked like bats from Earth, with the flaps of folded skin under their arms, the short fur, big ears, and bad eyesight. He’d been to Earth several times in his life and had seen some once in a zoo. The resemblance didn’t bother him in the least, because everything had to look like something. How else would beings reference it? One thing was for certain, he’d never come across another race that could take as many G-forces as his fellow Lormell could. Nope. Can’t hire another race. It would slow us down in battle, he thought. You slow down, y
ou die.
When Ralph returned, Cameron got up, walked to the center of the bridge, sat back down in his seat, and engaged his comms. He glanced up at the main screen and frowned. Reaching down the outside of his seat and into the armrest, he pulled up a handful of wiring connected to it. Seeing the problem, he twisted two wires back together. The main screen lit up. In split screen, Hank and Stan looked at him expectantly.
“What happened there?” asked Hank.
“Minor malfunction,” Cameron explained with a shrug. “I fixed it. You guys ready?”
“We are,” answered Stan. “We have been pushing the limits of our ships’ G-force dampeners…and our bodies while locked onto your ship. You give us a countdown, and we will unlock and spread apart to release the boxes.”
“Cool,” Cameron said with a grin. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Let me give Bahroot a call. We want this delivery past the area where he is laying his mines. We can let him give us the countdown.”
Cameron hit another button on his comms unit, and the main screen split again. A third image showed Bahroot’s cube. The computer was imbedded in a panel in the cockpit of a small craft. It was completely dark except for the small amount of light on the cube and the lights on the front of it.
“Hi, guys,” Bahroot said cheerfully. “It’s about that time, huh?”
“Yeah,” Cameron said. “Can you give us a countdown or something?”
“Yes, I can do that,” answered the young AI. “By my calculations, if you release the brothers in four minutes, you can launch the missile boxes three minutes after. My mine layers will pass behind you ten thousand meters back, laying mines. Ensure you keep that distance as you turn to bank around, and there’ll be no issue with premature EMP explosions. I’ll send you a detailed map of the mine field.”
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