Hero of the Republic: (The Parasite Initiative, Book 1)

by Britt Ringel

  The lieutenant commander dropped his hand. “Okay, people. We might be heading for another fight so let’s get our ship cleaned up.” The flurry inside the room resumed.

  Twist leaned back into his shockseat and assessed his subsection. Two of the five turrets along the starboard side displayed red but all of HAZ-1’s portside turrets were green. He looked hesitantly at the lieutenant commander still pacing the room.

  “Um, Commander Rollings?” Twist barely did more than whisper the words.

  Rollings’ head snapped toward him immediately. “Yes, Ensign?” he asked with a smile.

  “Sir, will we be using our port side for the next engagement?”

  Rollings nodded approval as he walked toward Twist. “Excellent question. A tactician and a strategist.” His smile widened. “I suspect so but I’ll forward the question to Captain Kessler and get you an answer.” The senior officer gripped Twist’s arm and gave a reassuring squeeze as he walked by. “We’re lucky to have talented, young officers like you, Caden.”

  Rollings moved to a communications panel and bent over it. Twist heard Kessler’s voice. “What is it, Doug?”

  “Captain,” Rollings said, “I have Ensign Twist in Aux Con—his battle station was shot out from under him but he’s still commanding his section despite his injuries. He’s already thinking ahead and has asked if you were planning on presenting our port side if we dip to energy range. That’s my recommendation as well, sir.”

  There was a pause. “Commander, see to it that Ensign Twist receives medical attention immediately. As to his question, I concur with the evaluation. Any laser engagement will be conducted with our port weapons.” There was a second brief pause and Kessler’s words became more distant. “Commander Escobar, send that down your chain.” Kessler’s voice was loud again. “Anything else, Doug?”

  “No, sir.” Rollings looked back to Twist with a grin.

  Twist smiled uncomfortably back. “Thank you, sir.” He turned to his panel and shivered slightly. I should tell my people what’s going on. His hand wavered over the comm icon. He was still ashamed of his performance. After a deep breath, he activated the channel. “Haze-One, this is Ensign Twist. Great work, everyone, on the missile defense. I’m so proud of you all.”

  Whoops of comradery filled the channel followed by chaotic chatter. Many gunners praised fire control’s speed throughout the engagement. Once the adulation died down, Twist continued. “Unfortunately, we’ve paid a terrible price for victory. Both November and Kilo have been knocked out of action. I performed a visual inspection of November and have assessed that….”

  Twist shook his head. Not like that, Caden.

  He took a deep breath and restated, “Guys, the turret is gone and so are the gunners.” His voice turned tender with a deep empathy. “I’m sorry. I know they were your brothers and sisters. Turret Kilo is also red and I don’t know the state of its crew. However, we have a damage control party, number seven, searching for them right now. If they can be helped they will be helped.”

  Twist paused to let the information sink in. “Our starboard side is pretty tore up so it shouldn’t be any surprise that our next engagement will be handled by our port turrets.” He glanced at the status panel to locate the proper names. “I know that Gunnersmate Third Class Carson’s batteries are going to perform every bit as well as Oloffson’s did.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without you and Falk, sir,” a stranger’s voice answered, presumably PO3 Oloffson. “I’ve never seen fire control manage targets as fast as you did, especially considering our slow start.”

  “Falk—”

  “Sir, we heard your station got hit by the same missile that got Kilo. Are both of you all right?”

  Twist felt his heart tighten. “No,” he said miserably. “We’ve lost Falk.”

  Dead silence.

  Twist resisted the urge to fill it. They’re in shock, Caden. Give them time to let the news sink in. Nothing you can say right now will help. The tactical plot highlighted with an update. Although Avenger’s first fighter force was still embroiled with its recovery operation, a second, smaller group of fighters had been launched. The fifty-six fighters designated as Strike-2 were powering toward the Hollaran Vanguard. No sooner had the last fighter left the deck than the entirety of Task Group 3.1 began a rotation to take the vulnerable carrier group away from the rushing Hollarans and toward the dubious safety of Twist’s decimated fleet. A missile engagement between TG 3.1 and the enemy vanguard seemed inevitable. The Hollarans were less than 30ls from missile range and 3.1’s momentum would carry it into that envelope before its ships could null out their velocity.

  A woman’s voice filled the HAZ-1 channel. “Are you okay, sir?”

  Twist was taken aback at the simple kindness in her words. His eyes darted back to the status panel to find the sailor who had the presence of mind to worry about him despite her own shock and sorrow. Spaceman Apprentice McCewen. She just lost her idol but she still thought about me. Pride flushed through him along with a burning sense of loyalty to his people. “A little singed but I’m okay. The lieutenant commander in Auxiliary Control has sent for a med-tech to look me over.”

  “Good,” came responses from several of Twist’s gunners.

  “I want you to know how proud Falk was of you all. He told me that you were the best gunners in the fleet and you proved that in the last fight.” Twist waited a half-beat before pointing his crew toward the future. “And we’re going to prove it again in the next one, right?”

  Howls of approval filled the channel. He waited patiently for the proper moment to interrupt the esprit de corps. What did mother say? Never cut off nationalism prematurely but don’t let it completely die out. As the hoots began to fade, he signed off with, “I’ll keep you posted as we near combat. Twist out.”

  Chapter 16

  Twist’s tactical plot blossomed with activity as anti-ship missiles separated from the fighters of Strike-2. Fifty-five fighters had successful launches resulting in two hundred twenty discrete missile symbols burning toward the ten-ship Hollaran vanguard. The lone fighter that experienced a misfire spun gracefully toward home as the bulk of the group altered course to intercept the massive Hollaran carrier seeking the sanctuary of tunnel space. The Commonwealth capital ship was just over 14lm from salvation, sailing hard toward the Kale tunnel point.

  The vanguard force, determined to close with the Brevic carriers and launch its own missile attack, doggedly refused to turn away from the ASM flood. Twist watched, muted and helpless, as the range between the Hollaran warships and Third Fleet’s priceless assets dropped inside of 5lm.

  New contacts flared into existence at the Vanguard. Missile symbols appeared faster than Twist could count. The Hollarans needed only five minutes to empty their magazines. When the final missile port closed, 5,100 Greyhound missiles streaked toward the Brevic carriers in fifteen, equal waves.

  The front edge of the Hollaran attack streaked by the inbound Brevic missiles with closing speeds that reached the speed of light. The meager Brevic response, a single wave of two hundred twenty missiles, appeared to be little more than a formality.

  By the time the Brevic carrier force executed its retrograde, the two enemies were a scant 3.1lm apart. Twist knew the alarming proximity appeared worse than it was.

  Now that Three-One has pushed up to battle speed, that Hollaran force shouldn’t be able to close to laser range before we can form up with Hayes. The question is, will the Hollarans accept battle knowing they’ll also be facing 2.2’s survivors? Twist frowned slightly as he looked at the remnants of his task group. The damaged destroyer and frigate escorts were lagging badly behind. Well, at least our four heavy ships are able to maintain fleet speed and since the Hollarans emptied their missile magazines at the carriers, we really won’t need the escorts anyway.

  In the end, Twist’s question was moot. Having launched all of its missiles and now facing a long stern chase, the Hollaran vanguard exercised the b
etter part of valor and began to orient away from the Brevic missile attack. The last-minute maneuver all but assured the Brevic carriers would not face a deadly knife-fight at laser range but also guaranteed that the limited missile attack from the Brevic fighters would be easily defeated.

  A single chime sounded from the compartment’s chronometer. It was now 23:30 BSMT.

  The Hollarans dove into Sponde over four hours ago. Twist tilted his neck to stretch aching muscles. We’ve been on alert for ten. His eyes focused on the escorts of the Brevic carrier group, CortRon 15. They must be exhausted by now… I sure am.

  Any fatigue experienced by the gunners of CortRon 15 was seemingly defeated by bursts of adrenalin. The first three waves of Hollaran missiles were readily handled. Most interesting to Twist was the number of laser shots taken at the extreme range of 10ls by three of the escort ships.

  As was doctrine, CortRon 15 was in a standard square defensive formation. A light cruiser escort anchored a corner while destroyer escorts were positioned to complete the square. Inside the square sailed two frigates. Twist was surprised that the smaller vessels were standard frigates and not dedicated escorts before remembering the promise of the Cerberus missile defense system. The state-of-the-art system was designed to allow standard frigates to fight with the same point defense capabilities as an escort.

  That potential bore out by how many missiles were intercepted at maximum range. Not only did Cerberus work, Twist surmised, but those new destroyers packed sixteen Stratford second generation radiant stream lasers. The RSLs, designed for long-range missile defense, were the epitome of Brevic technological superiority. With the first three missile waves easily brushed aside, he could almost feel the burgeoning confidence of the CortRon’s gunners.

  The Hollaran fourth wave changed that. Fire seemed to slacken, especially at the longer ranges. As more missiles slipped inside 5ls than during the first three waves, Twist watched with horror as a trio of missiles stubbornly eluded defensive fire to strike one of the frigates in the middle of the square. Its symbol flickered but refused to die out.

  It’s okay, he told himself. It’s only a frigate and the CortRon really won’t be impacted. He dared not attach actual lives to the screen’s light show.

  The fifth wave gave testimony to Twist’s assertion and was turned aside. Curiously, one of the Cerberus-equipped escorts, a destroyer named Kite, was subtly changing its position in the formation. Twist’s stomach lurched as he watched the ship’s thrusters touch off. Is that captain crazy? We’ve all been told that moving your ship during a missile defense action is never worth the risk!

  The sixth wave approached and Twist cringed as three more missiles wormed their way through the center of the point defense umbrella. The Greyhounds, piercing through the escort squadron, made runs on Avenger but were destroyed by a desperate flurry of self-defense shots from the heavy carrier itself.

  Twist’s jaw dropped when the other Cerberus-equipped destroyer, Aspis, began her own push toward the center of the formation. Despite his skepticism, the CortRon fought off the seventh and eighth waves without further losses. Yet the situation was quickly unravelling. Laser fire from every RSL-equipped ship had severely diminished. It was baffling. Initially, the long-range laser batteries were firing every four seconds but as the ninth wave streaked in, the cutting-edge weapons appeared to be lucky to fire as often as Twist’s own, conventional heavy lasers could. Only Kite had been able to maintain her fire, her herculean efforts resulting in the last missile of the ninth wave being destroyed less than a light-second from the squadron.

  As Kite and Aspis condensed their portions of the square, missiles lancing through the heart of the CortRon fell under destructive fire from multiple sources. In exchange for a stronger core, however, Hollaran missiles began to leak around the edges. The tenth and eleventh waves saw four such leakers but both carriers, facing a paltry two missiles each, were able to defend themselves.

  Twist swallowed hard as he watched the twelfth wave approach. As before, coverage in the center was just enough but more missiles skirted past the escorts on the edges. This is why you don’t move in the middle of a fight! Four missiles raced toward Avenger and the carrier’s luck seemed destined to run out. Two of the missiles exploded in a hail of defensive fire but the surviving duo homed remorselessly onto the capital ship. An instant before detonation, laser fire from Kite reached out to bat death’s hand away from Avenger. Twist felt his heart leap into his throat. Confirm downrange is free of friendlies. They shot right at Avenger! They shot right at Admiral Hayes! He shook his head in shock. That WEPS officer just put his entire career on the line. The chances of a successful intercept were almost nothing. He’s a madman. Twist considered the drastic actions of the entire ship. Kite is going to become “Exhibit A” for demonstrating either exemplary initiative taken during a point defense action or stunning recklessness.

  The missile count of the thirteenth wave reduced gradually from three hundred forty to two hundred ninety-two at 10ls. The count lowered further, coming to a rest at seventy-five with the CortRon’s final shots still reaching out. Between eye blinks, Twist watched an escort destroyer and the other standard frigate each pulse twice.

  With two additional ships in the formation now reeling from strikes, the final two missile waves took every advantage. Eight more missiles from the fourteenth wave found targets, two hitting the already damaged destroyer, Sentinel. The remaining six missiles pierced completely through the CortRon on their way to the carriers. That number was immediately reduced to five by a regulation-breaking, “backwards” shot from Kite. Volleys of fire from both carriers knocked four of the remaining Greyhounds down. The standout struck the light carrier, Eagle, causing her symbol to flicker.

  The last wave overwhelmed the CortRon. A full eleven missiles penetrated the tangle of crisscrossing laser shots from the escorts. Twist watched in horror as the inverted “v” missile symbols flooded over Task Group 3.1. Almost every ship inside the CortRon blinked, many numerous times. Only the squadron’s flagship, the light cruiser Bulwark, emerged unscathed. Both of the new Cerberus destroyers took hits and their cousin, Sentinel, disappeared entirely from the plot. Both frigates were missing as well.

  The price paid by CortRon 15, though steep, was worth it. Twist blew out a sigh of relief when he realized that neither carrier suffered hits in the final wave. He pressed a finger to the light carrier symbol of Eagle. Even that single hit doesn’t seem terrible. It looks like it struck her starboard nacelle. Sure, she lost a lot of propulsion but the main body of the carrier is intact.

  Twist looked at Kite’s symbol. The last wave’s missiles were concentrated down the center axis and if Kite hadn’t altered the formation, I doubt the carriers would have survived. He shook his head, recalling the ship’s “backwards” shots. I’m not sure if I would have the guts to shoot toward an admiral’s ship but there’s a lesson here about being creative… or desperate.

  Curious, he pressed his finger over Kite’s symbol. Destroyer Escort, Buckler-Class. Commanded by Lieutenant Garrett Heskan. Twist had never heard of the man. He was only two grades higher than Twist, though obviously an officer with a lot of time in rank. You might only be a lieutenant, Garrett Heskan, but you’ve got the brass of an admiral.

  Chapter 17

  Twist expanded the tactical plot after CortRon 15’s successful defense. As he expected, the Brevic fighters’ missile attack had yielded negligible results. Despite this, the overall picture was still shaping up nicely for the Republic. The remnants of Task Group 2.2 and the Brevic carrier force were sailing toward each other. At a distance of 6.5lm, the two fleets would rendezvous in twenty-five minutes. The Hollaran vanguard fleet, still ten ships strong, sailed for the Kale tunnel point, some 14.5lm away. The Hollaran carrier group continued toward the same refuge. Trying to prevent its escape, the fifty-five fighters of Strike-2 raced at .3c in an effort to cut the carrier off. The math looked promising. While the Hollaran carrier needed just
over forty-two minutes to reach the tunnel point, the fighters would intercept it a minute from its goal.

  The original fighter group that had eliminated the Hollaran fighters landed and rearmed while the Brevic fleets sailed to rendezvous. Without delay, Avenger and Eagle relaunched them back into space.

  Task Groups 3.1 and 2.2 passed each other at a range of only 20ls. Captain Kessler had announced that Admiral Hayes’ carrier force would trail behind the heavies of 2.2 at a distance of 3lm. It made sense to Twist. The missile element of the invasion was over and only energy weapons remained. The paltry number of heavy batteries 3.1 could offer could not counterbalance the risk of exposing the carriers to direct fire.

  Although Twist had kept in contact with the people in his subsection, he remained focused on the fate of Turret Kilo. Petty Officer Daniels and Spaceman Villanova had been killed in action but the turret’s third crewmember, Spaceman Partin, had been found injured but alive. A Ship’s Medical Emergency Team had updated Twist with the welcome news that the prognosis was hopeful.

  He passed the good news about Partin to his crew before submitting to his own examination. The med-techs found a six-centimeter gash along Twist’s right cheek where his shocksuit helmet had bitten into him although they were more concerned about a hairline fracture in the ulna of his lower right arm. One of the techs produced a twenty-centimeter implement shaped like a wand, nicknamed a “shiver-stick,” and pressed the tip near Twist’s elbow. The pain was immediately relieved, followed by a numbing chill down his arm and hand.

  Lieutenant Commander Rollings had been apocalyptic upon hearing the technicians’ diagnosis, insisting they take Twist to the medical bay to ensure he had not sustained more serious injuries. Only after repeated pledges by both techs and a visual confirmation of their medical scanners did Rollings agree that Twist could remain on duty despite the “crippling injuries and intense agony the young man must be suffering.”