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

by Britt Ringel

  “We act; they react,” Weis said with resignation. “It’s the way of war.”

  Six minutes later, one hundred new Hollaran fighters burned hard to attain a .3c intercept course for the Brevic attack wave.

  Captain Weis’ chair arm chimed and he announced calmly, “Call from Salazar.”

  Twist watched the ship captain accept the request and heard him greet, “Yes, Admiral?”

  There was a long silence and then Weis answered, “Over an hour to reach us now.” After a shorter pause, he said, “I believe you made that clear in the last meeting.”

  Twist stared blankly at his weapons console, eavesdropping on half of the conversation. Weis spoke about point defense probabilities and then answered in the affirmative several times. Finally, he ended his part of the conversation by reiterating that the admiral had made her point during the last group meeting. During the conversation, the second group of Hollaran fighters cut to within 5lm of the Brevic fighter group.

  The engagement was a distraction as the first wave of Hollaran fighters was a mere 8lm from Task Group 2.6 with a .1c closure rate. A thought ran through Twist’s head. “Captain,” he asked, “which beam should my section expect for the missile defense?”

  Weis nodded as if deliberating with himself. “What do you recommend, Lieutenant?”

  The question caught Twist off guard. He recalled the results of the last exercise. “My gunners on the starboard side achieved the higher efficiency rating. It might have been because they’ve had a bit more practice but I’d recommend starboard, Captain.”

  Weis glanced at his first officer. A wordless exchange passed between them. “Expect a starboard engagement.”

  “Aye, sir,” Twist replied before spinning back to his console. He analyzed the tactical plot. About twenty-eight minutes until those fighters reach their five light-minute missile range. Gooseflesh broke out over his arms. Then, another thirteen minutes for those missiles to reach us. He opened his section channel. “This is WEPS, enemy missile contact in an estimated forty minutes. Subsection commanders, prep a starboard engagement.”

  Twist dedicated the next half hour to organizing his missile defense. He swept aside the tactical plot and opened his WEPS/CC point defense screen. He monitored checklist results throughout his section. He doled out responsibilities for stray missiles and confirmed coordination with the CortRon’s point defense liaison. Every missile would have to be accounted for during every moment of flight. One instant, a missile might be the responsibility of the CortRon; the next moment, that duty might be handed to a ship in a more advantageous position. With missile speeds approaching .58c, there was precious little time to debate such things during combat.

  Twist had completed his preparations and was listening to the task group’s dedicated point defense channel when Lieutenant Salle cried out, “Gravity warhead disturbance! Several!” She marked the likely origins of the disturbances on the system plot within two light-seconds of the frigate pickets nearest the Brevic fighters.

  “Boom,” Weis said quietly.

  “Prepare for more, Marcy,” Hayashi warned, “but keep focused on our incoming friends.” She gestured at the tactical plot. “I want their missiles on the plot the moment they cross five light-minutes… and confirmation of their launch the instant we detect them.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” Salle said as she wiped her brow. Sensor sections across the group kicked into overdrive as they split their duties between the fighter missile attack happening 35lm away and the more pressing attack at their doorstep.

  Over the course of two minutes, Falcata’s sensor section plotted ninety-eight more gravity blooms, most originating inside the translucent uncertainty zone of the Brevic fighter wing. Each tiny blip on the screen hinted at terrible losses for both Brevic and Hollaran pilots alike.

  Twist tried to place aside his concern for his aviation comrades. Five minutes after their theoretical launch, Falcata detected the very real sensor captures of four hundred thirty-seven inbound anti-ship missiles. Due to the time lag caused by the immense distances, the Brevic task group had not obtained sensor confirmation until the missiles had already broken inside of 3lm.

  Red inverted “v” symbols solidified as each missile was positively identified and labelled as a “vampire.” Tails on the symbols provided relevant tasking information from CortRon-10’s point defense team. Twist watched the digital ballet as vampires were assigned to a specific escort ship based on position and vector, and then further refined to a specific point defense battery on the responsible ship. As the taskings stacked up, it was clear that the CortRon would be overwhelmed.

  Modern point defense theory is predicated on fighting off waves of roughly three hundred missiles or so, not a single wave of over four hundred. Twist locked his knees together to keep them from quivering. A good escort squadron might be able to handle more than that but CortRon Ten is stuck with two standard ships among the dedicated escorts. Who in the hell thought they could protect us, handicapped the way they are? Doesn’t anyone care that they were given an impossible mission to perform and that we’re going to die because of it?

  The missiles crept to within 60ls as the taskings sorted out. There were no current assignments for the ships of CruRon-6 and DesRon-14 but that would change soon enough when missiles penetrated past the frontline escort ships.

  The empty space behind the single mob of missiles was eerie. We didn’t even train for this in tech school, Twist thought with a touch of anger. The Hollarans are using pickets now; they’ve integrated their carriers inside their task forces. Why does it seem like we are always two steps behind?

  The missiles streaked to within 20ls of the escorts. We’ll have about fifteen seconds to react to whatever gets past our CortRon. Please don’t let there be more than a couple missiles targeting us.

  He poised trembling hands over his console while watching the massive wave’s progress. Soon, the leading elements began to strobe before vanishing from existence. The numbers dropped slowly at first as only heavy batteries from the light escort cruiser, Praetorian, swatted at the incoming parcels of death.

  While the Hollaran aggression closed to 5ls of the escorts, eighteen vampires had vanished from the board. When the remaining four hundred nineteen missiles breached the 5ls barrier, Twist’s screen flickered with ferocious intensity. Droves of vampires were sliced from the wave every two seconds. The total dropped quickly to three hundred sixty-seven in the opening light laser shots. Twist’s spirits climbed as defensive fire culled another forty-six missiles from the herd.

  Although fire had slackened from Praetorian’s heavy batteries, the GP lasers from the rest of the CortRon continued their relentless assault. The missile pack dropped suddenly again. Twist’s eyes nearly watered from the information overload on his screen. Tasking circles were disappearing and reappearing so rapidly that he could not imagine how a mere human could react to the changing priorities.

  Yet the escorts’ valiant effort was falling short. The anti-ship missiles, closing at .38c, were grinding the distance between warhead and warship at a rate of 0.76ls for every shot the defensive light lasers took. Already Praetorian was assigning missiles that would clearly pass through to the two squadrons sheltered behind her. As the Hollaran missiles closed to within 1ls of the light escort cruiser, two hundred eleven vampires remained.

  Bright flashes illuminated the right side of Twist’s helmet as Falcata’s bridge screen painted fresh gravity warhead explosions over the escort formation. In the ensuing chaos of the collapsing point defense net, one hundred twenty-four vampires burst past the expanding fragments of CortRon-10. Twist watched Scythe’s sensors pick up the fallen network, doing her best to finish the assignments. His tasking console lit up brightly and his stomach plummeted. Seven missiles tracked Falcata.

  Chapter 22

  Falcata’s weapons computer renamed each of the seven incoming missiles handed to her as Twist’s own words echoed in his mind. “We’ll have about fifteen
seconds to react to whatever gets past our escorts.” The thought threatened to turn him to stone. He willed his hands to move and “grabbed” the first missile, Vampire Alpha, on the screen. The missile’s precise vector was difficult to discern as it executed preprogrammed evasive maneuvers. Falcata’s computer predicted a bow strike although with only 13% certainty. Twist dragged his finger and dropped the missile into the forward portion of his LAZ basket.

  One down. He highlighted Vampire Bravo, projected to hit the center of his ship. That’s right where one of our Merkells is located. He dragged and dropped the missile to HAZ. Two down… five to go. How much time is left? The missiles were within 8ls. The terror that those missiles might enter laser range while his gunners still waited for targets brought him to the edge of hysteria. Without thought, he grabbed three targets at once and handed them off to Lieutenant Dunham’s light laser section. No sooner had those arbitrary taskings blinked with Dunham’s confirmation, Twist used index and middle finger to drag the remaining two vampires simultaneously to Ensign Burns. Taskings completed, he gauged the distance between ship and missile. Five light-seconds! They’ll barely have time for more than a couple shots!

  Twist jolted hard in his shockseat seconds later. The sudden jerk caused his teeth to rattle as a muffled explosion carried through the sealed doors of Falcata’s bridge. A second, gentler concussion buffeted Twist and he instinctively braced himself by folding his arms over his chest as instructed during endless exercises. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end.

  He had been holding his breath, only realizing the fact when he began to grow dizzy.

  “Damage report,” Hayashi ordered loudly.

  Twist opened his eyes. He was expecting to see smoke or some sign of damage. The weapons console blinked silently at him. Above the taskings screen, he surveyed the status of Falcata’s weapons. The starboard Merkell was no longer functioning. Additionally, GP Turrets One and Two were flashing red. Oddly, a missile launcher near the bow was also offline.

  “Working on it, ma’am,” Falcata’s operations officer acknowledged before returning attention to his panel. “Hit twice, I think. Amidship and forward,” the man reported in shotgun fashion. “Engineering is okay; the power core is safe.” Another pause. “Caden, what’s your status with the starboard Merkell?”

  Twist jumped. That’s me. “Uh, it looks nonoperational.” He quickly sent a comm request to HAZ. “Let me talk to Burns.”

  Behind Twist, Captain Weis requested a status report for the entire destroyer squadron. Twist heard more conversation but focused on his heavy laser section. He expected the channel to be filled with static or some other chaotic clamor. Instead, he was greeted with the crisp voice of his subsection commander. “Burns here, sir.”

  “What’s the Merkell turret’s condition?” Twist asked.

  “Unknown but probably out of action. I’ve notified our assigned damage control team and sent Gunnersmate Second Class Justice over to have a look… I hope that was okay.”

  “Report back to me when you get word.”

  Twist was reaching to disconnect when Burns spoke again. His voice was filled with a terrible disappointment. “I—I’m sorry, sir. I know we missed at least one. The taskings came so fast… I should have been better prepared…”

  The self-incrimination made Twist’s heart ache. “You did well, Andy.” Twist hung his head and closed the channel. I should have never given him two targets at once. It was an impossible job for a heavy laser… even if it was a gatling laser. Twist was certain he would find more failings in his performance, given time to evaluate it.

  “WEPS?” It was Lieutenant Hayashi.

  I’ve disappointed her, Twist thought remorsefully. And I failed the entire ship. Turning to face his first officer seemed an unbearable task. “Yes, ma’am?” he asked, still facing his panel.

  “The GP turrets are bleeding energy,” Hayashi noted. “Run your post-attack checklist.”

  The reminder jarred him from his indulgent self-recriminations. Dammit, get your act together, Caden! He ground his teeth and began to shut down power to the disabled turrets. Although technically Lieutenant Dunham’s responsibility, the timely deactivation of any damaged turret ultimately fell to the weapons section commander.

  Twist worked methodically through the checklist as Task Group 2.6 continued away from the Hollaran invasion fleet. The Hollaran fighters, free of their anti-ship loads, had declined strafing runs against the Brevics and were returning to their carriers. The trip home would be a long one. The twin light carriers had turned with the rest of the Commonwealth task force toward Avenger, directly away from their own fighter strike wing. Falcata’s sensor section estimated the fighters would not reach their carriers for over five hours.

  Twist had barely confirmed the status of the three officers under him when Lieutenant Salle announced, “Picking up more gravity disturbances. Oh, a lot of them!”

  “Where?” Weis asked.

  “We’re working them out, Captain.” She pecked at her station briefly. “Confirmed by Electra,” she muttered to herself. “Captain, I’m moving the optical to the Hollaran task force.”

  A side screen flickered and projected a dozen, faint dots of light against the starscape. A brilliant flash strobed near one of the dots.

  “Those are missiles from Avenger’s fighters striking their fleet,” Salle explained.

  Twist stared at the wall screen. What had started as sporadic, indiscriminate flashes quickly crescendoed into a cascade of radiance that forced him to squint. The flurry of light ended even faster than it had begun, almost as if a curtain had been dropped. The tiny, grainy images on the screen gave few clues to the task force’s fate. Surely there are fewer dots than before, Twist judged while scrutinizing the display.

  “Marcy,” Weis said, breaking the silence that had formed. “Keep your priority on our group’s status before dedicating resources toward enemy damage assessments. We have to know who’s left… there has to be more.”

  Concern about his own ship and his own performance had caused Twist to completely forget about the task group as a whole. He shifted his eyes away from the optical and to the tactical plot. Task Group 2.6 had been gutted.

  Only five ships remained of the original eighteen. Sycthe, 2.6’s flagship, had been destroyed. Each of the five survivors had growing damage reports scrolling next to their tactical symbols. Twist leaned forward and read the list silently. Electra, Adze, Gada and Crossbow… and us, he reminded himself. We’re the smallest ship that survived. The flood of missiles had swept away the entire escort squadron along with every ship in DesRon-14 save Falcata. CruRon-6 had fared only marginally better, losing her flagship and light cruiser, with what appeared to be steep damage to the rest.

  Twist’s panel beeped at him. It was a comm request from his missile subsection. He returned to the matters under his control and answered, “How is MIS, Lucy?”

  * * *

  Twist completed the post-attack checklist after twenty minutes of diligent work. By the time he finished, a clear picture had developed for Task Group 2.6. Shattered and missing its admiral, the brutalized collection of ships continued sailing away from the Hollaran invasion force. As the survivors settled into a new formation, the Hollaran fleet’s bearing changed marginally. Anxious Brevic eyes watched blurry images of the enemy refine their course to trail the Brevic fighters returning to their roost.

  The remaining five ship captains inside the smashed task group established a new chain of command with overall leadership falling to Captain Rosario on the heavy cruiser, Adze. The obvious choice, Salazar’s backup on Electra’s flag bridge, had perished during the attack. After reaffirming the chain of command, discussion about the crippled group’s next course of action ensued.

  The conversation revolved around whether Task Group 2.6 could be reasonably expected to abandon Hayes’ grand strategy. From the outset, the Hollarans had cooperated by throwing the bulk of their fighter force at them just as
Hayes had anticipated. Even though the strike force was formidable, the losses incurred by Task Group 2.6 were predicted to be counterbalanced by Avenger’s strike against the invasion fleet. Per Hayes, once Avenger had devastated the Hollarans with its fighters, Task Group 2.6 was supposed to return to its intercept course and engage the remnants of the enemy in conjunction with a second strike from Avenger.

  The Hollaran cooperation had ended early however. With a second light carrier to draw upon, it appeared that a major portion of the Brevic fighter attack had been disrupted by a Hollaran combat air patrol. Worse still, the remnants of Task Group 2.6 could not perform an accurate damage assessment on the Hollaran fleet to reconcile the outcome. The best sensors on Electra had counted twenty-eight gravity warhead detonations during the attack but it was beyond the battered command cruiser’s capabilities to discern how many were actual hits and against which ships. The Hollaran task force had started its invasion of Kalyke with twenty-two warships. The tunnel point fight had destroyed three. Furthermore, the two frigate pickets closest to Avenger had undoubtedly been destroyed by the Brevic fighter attack, leaving up to seventeen ships to threaten Calycia. Electra’s sensor section reported to Captain Rosario that best estimates of the Brevic fighter attack ranged from the destruction of “none to some” of the Hollaran ships. Task Group 2.6’s newest commander was not amused by the vagueness of the report. Out of communications contact with Admiral Hayes, Rosario would either have to abandon their attack and by association, abandon their sister task group or adhere to a plan that would see TG 2.6’s certain destruction.

  After deliberating another hour with the other captains, Rosario concluded that the group’s ships could not be expected to close with an enemy that probably greatly outnumbered them and had at least one hundred fighters in support. The five ships of TG 2.6 altered course toward the Carme tunnel point and began a long retreat at their best speed, .16c.