Mike looked up at the holo-map for a moment seeing that the Vanguard sloop was closing and coming within range. The Karduan destroyer escort was still five minutes behind the faster sloop. The standard destroyers were further behind, one being twenty minutes out and the other was thirty-two minutes from firing range.
“No, I want that sloop and the destroyer escort to come closer, so let’s not give away that we’ve had a refit and that we now have longer range guns,” he said feeling like a spider hoping the flies would just walk into his parlor.
“Aye sir,” she replied.
“Ryan, contact the Boyington and patch me through to Lt. Lester,” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” the comm. operator said.
A moment later Lester appeared on the main viewer. His long face looked stressed yet seemed focused to his job. Behind him, the Boyington’s flight deck was a whirlwind of activity as crewmen rushed to get the star fighters ready for battle.
“How it going?” Mike inquired needing to know how much longer it would take.
“We have ten SF-86 and six SF-15 star fighters ready to launch,” he said, “the other twelve should be ready within the hour.
“Keep up the good work,” Collins said and continued, “I’ll need whatever you have ready in the next half-hour so be prepared to launch.”
“Wilco,” Lester said with a nod.
“Out here,” Mike said as the screen went back to showing the outside situation.
“Sir, the sloop is closing,” Curtis called out.
“All right, one-quarter reverse,” he ordered, “let’s not make it too easy for them.”
“Aye sir,” Pitt said from the helm.
“Petty Officer Baker, let me know when the destroyer escort is in weapons range,” he said looking to the fire control station.
“Yes sir, the DE is just entering our particle turret’s range,” she said her eyes locked on her monitor.
Mike nodded, “Then I guess it is time to get to work.”
“Aye sir,” Baker said ready to fight.
“Lock missile turrets, fusion turrets and our particle turret on the Vanguard and open fire,” Collins commanded.
In a single moment, the old battle frigate went from retreating to a whirlwind of death and destruction as it unleashed its weaponry on the pursuing sloop.
“Mister Pitt, increase speed to keep us at our fusion range,” Mike said watching the holo-map.
“Registering a missile hit to their lower hull, multiple fusion and particle hits on the Vanguard’s upper deck and bridge,” the sensor station reported.
The Goliad rocked from a return strike but no significant damage or emergency alarms went off.
“That was from the sloop’s particle cannon but we’re at its maximum range,” Curtis said looking up and smiling.
“Range and distance, people,” Mike reminded, keeping them focused.
“Sir, the Vanguard is reducing speed,” the maser operator reported.
“Jeremy, adjust our speed and keep them in our range,” he said and looked to the fire control station. “Cindy, keep the heat on them.”
A chorus of “Aye Sirs” answered him as they continued to pound the Vanguard sloop.
“Sir, they have reversed course and are trying to get away,” PO2 Curtis informed.
“They are trying to get back to that destroyer escort for protection,” Collins informed watching the holo battle map and where the other enemy ships were. “Switch our particle turret and the missile turrets onto the destroyer escort but keep the fusion turrets on the sloop.”
“What about the missile pods and the torpedoes?” PO Baker suggested.
“No, not yet,” he said his blue eyes darting from the main viewer to the holo-map to the readouts on his captain’s chair.
“Hit to the DE with the particle turret,” Curtis announced and then added, “also two missile hits.”
“The Vanguard has stopped firing,” Baker said from her station.
“Give them another barrage from the fusion turrets and then switch them to the destroyer escort,” Mike ordered thinking that the sloop might be playing a game of possum hoping that the frigate would move deeper into her range.
The Goliad rocked from another hit. A few alarms went off but again it seemed like a minor blow.
“That was from the destroyer escort’s particle cannon. It has about the same range as our fusion turrets,” Curtis informed.
“Mister Pitt, adjust our speed to the DE,” Mike said, “Keep us at range and stay on them.”
“Aye sir,” Jeremy answered quickly making changes to his controls.
“Sir, ten minutes until the first destroyer is in a long-range firing solution,” the maser station reported.
“Hear that everyone, we have ten minutes to finish off this destroyer escort and get the heck out of here,” Mike announced.
Another energy weapon hit the old frigate but the damage was again minimal mostly due to their heavily armored hull. Battle class frigates were meant to take a pounding.
“Baker, I want standard torpedoes, both tubes to follow our missile turrets next volley along with missile pod two,” he ordered wanting to overwhelm their defensive grid.
“Aye sir,” she called back.
The old frigate continued to fire at its optimum range hitting with its destroyer-size particle turret and two corvette-sized fusion turrets. As they pounded the destroyer escort a wave of missiles followed by two torpedoes were launched.
The Karduan destroyer escort struggled to close the range but was surprised that every increase of speed from their engines had been met by a corresponding increase from the old frigate. It shouldn’t have been this fast or be able to hit this hard.
Multiple fusion hits and a particle strike caused several hull breaches and knocked out the destroyer escort’s main gun. The Ship Mistress had just ordered all engines into full reverse to get out of range of this improbable ship’s intensive fire but it was too late.
The point defense lasers had taken a beating during this fight and now a flight of missiles kept them busy as several got through followed by two torpedoes. One torpedo was destroyed almost at point-blank range destroying the laser that got it. The force of the explosion tore through the gun housing and into the deck. The second torpedo had locked onto the rear of the ship and had hit the maneuver drives blowing off a third of its armored housing and crippling the engine within.
“Sir, I’m reading multiple hits on the destroyer escort. Its engines are badly damaged,” PO2 Curtis reported from the maser unit.
“Captain, the first destroyer is coming into range of our particle turret,” Baker said as she continued to pound the damaged destroyer escort.
“Full reverse, it’s time to get out of Dodge,” Mike said.
So far, he’d had the advantage in this fight. Thanks to his new in-system maneuver drives, he had been faster than the vanguard sloop. His weapons upgrades had allowed him to pound the DE at a distance that they couldn’t match. His ship should have been inferior or at least equal to the destroyer escort in both weapons and speed. These were the advantages that he had but now he had to run. The destroyer’s particle turrets had the same range that his sole turret had. He still had speed and torpedoes but why fight a desperate battle like that when you’ve accomplished what you set out to do and had bought the time they had needed to escape.
“Full reverse, Aye!” Pitt echoed and then asked, “Should I bring her around 180?”
Mike knew what he was saying, ships may have a reverse but they were always faster going forward.
“Not yet, let’s keep our bow to them for a bit,” he said and turned to the fire control station. “Baker, ceasefire for now.”
“Aye sir,” she replied.
The destroyer didn’t stop to help its smaller and damaged ships. It kept on coming trying to get into a firing solution where they could stop the escaping frigate.
“I think we did it, sir! The destroyer can’t seem to cat
ch us,” Curtis announced to the relief of the bridge crew.
Mike nodded in satisfaction and said to himself, “Speed and distance.”
A moment later the communications operator let out a yell.
“Captain, the Mary Walker is signaling,” Specialist Ryan announced.
“Patch her through,” he said.
“Lt. Collins, we have a problem,” Lt. Cmdr. Kannon said and continued, “the freighter S.S. Oliver is having engine troubles. She is an older freight hauler and has been pushing her fusion drives in an attempt to keep up with the rest of the group. Well, her engines just gave out and they think that it will take six or seven hours to make repairs.”
He looked up at the holo-map and saw that the freighter had fallen a little behind the rest of the transport ships.
“She should have enough inertia to make it to the nebula on her own,” Mike said.
“Yes, but she’ll need more time as her braking thrusters misfire when the engines went out,” the doctor said, “I could take my ship and either rig for towing or give her a little nudge.”
Collins looked at the holo-map, switched to the main viewer and then back to the floating holo image.
“No, it would take too long for you to do either of those things. Her momentum will be enough to get her there but we’ll have to buy her a little more time,” he said looking to the main viewer at the approaching pair of destroyers.
They were still separated by five minutes of time, and the destroyers were separated from each other by twelve minutes, meaning that they could face one destroyer at a time if they had to. They only needed ten minutes to get the damaged freighter to the nebula.
“Lt. Cmdr. Kannon, I suggest the Mary Walker stay with the other five freighters at the edge of the nebula. The Boyington and the Goliad will get the Oliver the time she needs,” he said still working on the problem of dealing with the destroyers in his head.
The physician’s face made a sour expression, “Lieutenant, you’ve done a great job taking out that destroyer escort and that sloop but you’re no match for a couple of standard destroyers. Don’t sacrifice yourself and your crew over an old freighter.”
Mike nodded and smiled politely, “Don’t worry, sir, I’ve got a card or two left to play just be prepared to enter the nebula when the Oliver gets there.”
“It’s your funeral, good luck,” Dr. Kannon said shaking his head in doubt as his image went to a blank screen.
“I think the good doctor has a valid point,” Curtis commented never scared to voice his opinion.
Ensign Pitt turned from his seat and looked to the maser station.
“At ease that shit,” he said with a hard stare and then looked to Mike.
“Orders, sir?”
“Keep us just outside of their particle range,” Collins ordered and added, “We can also thank God that this Karduan House hasn’t adopted missile and torpedo technology yet.”
“Weapons, sir?” PO2 Baker inquired standing ready by her console.
“If we slip into range, fire the particle turret and target their point defense lasers but nothing else,” he said and then looked to the comm. station. “Get me Lt. Lester on the Boyington.
“Yes sir,” Specialist Ryan called back.
Mike looked up to the holo-map and the progression of the freighters and the hospital ship. The Oliver was still lagging behind them and he needed to time things right to get everyone safely to the nebula.
“Sir, I have Lt. Lester on the line,” Specialist Ryan said.
“On main viewer,” he instructed.
A second later Lester’s face filled the screen. He was in a flight suit and was sitting inside of a star fighter.
“Are you ready to launch?” Mike asked.
“Yes sir, we have twelve SF-86 Sabers and twelve SF-15 Strike Eagles ready to launch. The other four fighters are still being unpacked,” Lester said.
“Very good, launch ASAP and form up behind the Goliad in a tight formation,” Collins instructed hoping it wasn’t outside their skills to get that close to each other.
“Aye, sir,” the Star Group’s fight leader replied.
“Oh’ and what is your call sign?” Mike asked having once been a flight leader himself.
“Well sir, I’m Tinkerbell One,” he said with a slight sigh.
“What?” Mike exclaimed in surprise.
“We were fairy pilots so someone several pay grades above us stuck us with the call sign of Tinkerbells,” he admitted much to his own embarrassment.
“You’re not fairy pilots, you are fighter pilots!” Collins replied his Irish getting up. Granny Essex and his flunkies really did a number on this escort carrier and her pilots he thought.
Lt. Lester just nodded and lowered his head in shame not knowing what else to say.
“Your Star Group will be called the Bastards and you’re now Bastard One,” he said.
The ISS Boyington was named after an American World War II fighter ace and Medal of Honor winner named Greg “Pappy” Boyington. Colonel Boyington commanded VMF-214 who was best known as the Black Sheep Squadron but Pappy had originally named them the Bastards. Collins knew that there was a current Colonial Marine Star Fighter Group called the Black Sheep, who were the decedents of the original squadron but there was no star fighter group that was called the Bastards. Mike thought that it was a fitting name for the star fighters of the ISS Boyington.
Lt. Lester looked at him for a second and nodded with a big smile.
“Aye sir, what do you want us Bastards to do?” he asked still smiling like a big goofy kid.
“Just get launched and form up behind me, nice and tight. It will throw off their space radar and will help mask our numbers,” he explained.
“Roger, we’re on our way,” he replied as the channel cut out.
“Get me the captain of the Boyington,” Mike ordered.
Once more the view screen filled with the image of Lt. Howard.
“Tell me, what kind of torpedoes do you have on board?” Collins asked.
The Ship Mistress of the Destroyer KD54 stared at her viewing portal in quiet outrage. Sen-Re gripped the hilt of her patar in its chair sheath in anger. This ancient frigate had already defeated two ships that should have been able to destroy it. At the very least the destroyer escort and Vanguard should have been able to inflict enough damage to leave it vulnerable and slow it down. Instead, the human ship was still guarding the rear of its retreating convoy.
“My Lady, the enemy ship is staying just out of our range as it retreats,” her space radar operator reported.
“Its weapons and its in-system drives have been improved beyond the normal capabilities of a human Battle Class frigate,” the ship’s Second said.
At that moment, the destroyer’s sensors went off detecting a hit just as a tremor could be felt through the ship.
“What just happened?” Sen-Re demanded.
“The frigate dipped into range for a moment, when they did they fired their particle turret. Only minor damage to one of our point defense lasers,” the sensor monitor said.
“Well, return fire,” the Ship Mistress ordered turning her bald blue head to look at her weapons control station.
“Sorry, my lady but they are out of range again,” the space radar station informed.
“I want more speed, just get us in range for a few seconds and we’ll target all particle turrets on that old piece of Confederation junk,” Sen-Re commanded.
Her Second quickly contacted their engine room demanding more speed from their already straining maneuver drives.
Once more the destroyer felt the tremor of a long-range particle hit.
“They are out of range again,” the space radar operator called out.
“Minor damage to another defense laser,” sensor controller added.
“The next time they dip into range I want a full particle barrage fired,” the Ship Mistress announced gripping the hilt of patar so hard that her blue skin of her hand turned w
hite.
“Yes, my lady,” the weapons controller replied sounding stressed.
“One of the enemy transports has fallen behind the other ships,” the space radar station reported.
“My lady, at our current speed we should be able to catch this lone transport before it reaches the nebula,” the Second informed.
“So, either they will have to fight us or sacrifice this transport,” Sen-Re said thinking out loud and smiling.
“Ship Mistress, Destroyer KD102 is signaling,” her communication operator said.
“Project the picture onto the central viewing portal,” she ordered.
The image of an identical destroyer’s bridge filled her portal’s screen.
“You should reduce speed and wait for us to join you,” the other destroyer’s ship mistress advised.
“What? I have them, one of their transport is damaged and has fallen behind. In a few minutes, I will be able to destroy this frigate and take the transport,” she countered, tired of hearing the other ship mistress’s ideas and advice. They were of equal rank and really didn’t have to work together or even listen to one another. They stuck together for mutual survival, not in any sense of comradery.
“This frigate commander is skilled and we should face him together to ensure that we obliterate him,” the KD102’s ship mistress argued.
“No, if we wait for you they could all escape into the nebula. We don’t even know if our sensors will be able to detect them if they make it inside,” Sen-Re countered.
At that moment, her ship again trembled from a long-range particle hit. She waited to scream “return fire” but she refrained from doing so, not wanting the other ship mistress to see her so out of control.
“We will continue on course and you will have to catch up as fast as you can,” she said knowing that the other destroyer was at least twelve minutes behind her.
“Very well,” the Ship Mistress of KD102 replied curtly and quickly ended her communications link.
Sen-Re looked to her weapons controller, “Did you at least hit them with our return fire?”
“No, they accelerated out of range,” was her reply knowing better than to look over to their irate leader.
Wolves at the Gate Page 27