‘Yes, sir. Mr. President, what are our orders if battle starts? The Earth fleet is not likely to survive unless we intervene.’
Sheridan took a deep breath. ‘I know. And as soon as the Earth ambassador here realises what is going on, he is going to raise merry hell in the Council--and there will be more than a few governments agreeing him, if the rumours of fleets moving through Narn space towards the Republic turn out to be true. It feels like President Luchenko is trying to play off Alliance members to her own ends.’ He hesitated, not liking the dark place of politics and machinations that he was headed towards. ‘Sosa, I cannot take unilateral action against the Centauri without damaging everything this Alliance stands for. I am going to be consulting Council members to reach a combined resolution on this so, until you hear from me with definite orders, you are to act on your own initiative. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir, I believe I do.’
‘Good. However, we must do everything we can to stop a full-scale war. The Centauri cannot win against a united Interstellar Alliance force, but they do have rights to their own sovereignty, whether they are members or not. And an invasion of Republic space is going to cost our fleets more than they might think, despite the bragging of the Narn and Drazi.’
‘We’ll do our part, sir. If there is a way to stop the Earth Alliance and Centauri from blasting each other across Beta III, we’ll find it.’
‘I hope you do, Sosa. Sheridan out.’
As the screen went dark, Sheridan became aware of another presence entering the room, comforting in its familiarity.
‘This is where it ends,’ he said bleakly.
‘There is still time,’ a soft and serene female voice said. ‘Come, we have work to do in the Council.’
July 9th 2263, The EAS Heracles, Beta III
‘Admiral, incoming transmission from the Claros,’ reported an ensign across the low background hum and chatter of the Heracles’ bridge. ‘Centauri ships, on their way here.’
Ward snapped around on his heels. ‘How long?’
‘ETA less than forty minutes. They have registered thirty-six hyperspace silhouettes, mostly cruiser masses.’
‘Thirty-six?’ Ward could not help asking, wanting to make sure he had heard his officer correctly.
‘Yes, sir. They have had trouble identifying two. One moment, sir, awaiting the data stream.’ The ensign leaned closer to his station as he began to interpret the information transmitted by the scout ship. ‘Sir! They are massive!’
‘Do you have identification?’ Ward asked, puzzled and concerned.
‘Not definite, sir. They are massing several times larger than their battlecruisers.’ The ensign looked up at his commanding officer. ‘Sir, could they be Octurion?’
Ward appeared thoughtful before answering. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, ensign.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Is Captain Musaki still in position?’ Ward asked. The level of forces that the Centauri appeared to be committing worried him. Even without the possibility of two of their largest battleships, they had amassed a response that outnumbered his forces three to one. While most of their ships would be lighter than any of his frontline vessels, he knew that they would be bringing enough heavies to provide a significant advantage. They had possibly spooked their hyperspace silhouettes, as they had reacted with astonishing speed, but that was not a risk worth taking. Several battle groups and squadrons had been held back in hyperspace to reinforce the EarthForce ships jumping into Centauri territory as needed, and Ward needed as many ships as could be mustered before the enemy fleet arrived.
‘Yes, sir. ETA sixty-seven minutes if we give him the go now.’
‘Do so. Also contact the battle groups Ajax, Achilles and Nelson. Tell them to make full burn to get here.’ He guessed the other ships would not arrive before conflict started, but if he could hold out against an initial assault, he would be able to summon enough ships to wipe out any enemy. ‘Do you have a precise fix on the Centauri’s course yet?’
The ensign did not answer straight away as he consulted his screen and made calculations. ‘Difficult, sir. It looks like they are on a slight tangent to our position. They won’t be dropping in on top of us.’
Thank heavens for small mercies, Ward thought. The Centauri in charge of the incoming fleet obviously did not know the full extent of the Earth fleet and was not taking chances. Then again, with a fleet as large as his, perhaps chances were not necessary.
‘Recall the Claros and Didyma,’ Ward ordered. ‘They have done their job. Instruct their captains to maintain distance from any direct confrontation. They will know what to do when the fireworks start.’
The bridge clock ticked away the long minutes as they awaited the arrival of the Centauri. Ward felt envious of his crew who each had their own duties to keep them occupied. Whether they were controlling the patrol patterns of Starfuries in orbit, monitoring the power relays and capacitors of the Heracles or doing any one of the million tasks required to keep a warship of this size flying, they were all active. For Ward’s part, much of his job had already been done, organising the fleet, ensuring the readiness of each section of the ship and making preparations for battle. An officer occasionally approached him with a status check or query but, for the main, he was left to his own racing and nervous thoughts.
He recalled someone saying that military service was hours of boredom punctuated with moments of sheer terror and, having served EarthForce for most of his adult life, it was a sentiment he could appreciate. However, the worst part was the waiting, he always found. The moments where all plans had been laid and all eventualities covered. When the enemy approached and all that could be done was wait. It left a cold, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The Claros and Didyma jumped in system several minutes ahead of the Centauri, reporting that the incoming fleet looked to be heading towards the edge of the system. It was an unusual move, Ward considered, but it matched what he had heard of the Centauri’s ruthless efficiency. They were obviously planning to deploy far from any possibility of interference, gauge their opposition and then sweep through the system, annihilating anything they came across. Start at one side and then continue forwards until there was nothing left to fight. No initiative required on the part of your sub-ordinates and time-consuming, but the Centauri were in their own territory and could afford to spend time making sure they had successfully repulsed Earth’s invasion.
‘Contact!’ called his tactical officer. ‘Jump points forming beyond the sixth planet.’
Ward had given no orders for his fleet to break orbit until the Centauri appeared. He was mindful of the possibility that the Centauri could change course in hyperspace at the last instant, jumping in close to his ships to start a brawl that would put him on the defensive immediately. He might have contemplated this tactic himself in their place, and it was foolish to treat an enemy as stupid--’always consider them at least as smart as you are’ was the mantra in EarthForce. Nevertheless, the Centauri leading the fleet seemed content to fight a battle with no surprises. At least, not initially.
‘What do we have?’ he asked.
A real mix, sir. Gunships to battleships. They are already at full thrust towards us. ETA on their forward screen, ninety-two minutes. The big guns, seventeen minutes behind them. Running analysis sweeps of attackers . . . wow!’
The breach of bridge protocol made Ward look up in surprise.
‘Sorry, sir,’ said the tactical officer. ‘We just scanned the two Octurions . . .’
‘Punch it through to my office,’ said Ward, walking to the rear of the bridge to review his enemy privately. Sitting down in front of his main console, he selected the feed from the tactical station and reviewed the first comprehensive data an Earth vessel had received on the Centauri’s largest warships.
It made for impressive reading. Reactor output was measured at six times greater than his command destroyers already uprated systems, and he had no doubt it woul
d increase once battle started. A full defensive grid, capacity for two full squadrons of fighters, and an extensive communications suite. The armour was thick enough to shrug off all but the heaviest weapons Ward had at his disposal, and it looked as if it could readily trade fire with several ships simultaneously. As well as the Centauri’s renowned battle lasers, the hull was studded with particle array batteries and six huge turrets sat on the top deck, each containing several matter cannon, smaller versions of the mass drivers the Centauri had used to bombard the Narn homeworld years before.
He now faced two of these incredible vessels and knew immediately that his present fleet would take substantial losses even without the support of three dozen other warships. He looked across the bridge.
‘Comms, get me the status on the Hermione.’
The Hermione was a Warlock class advanced destroyer, one of the new breed of warships Earth had constructed using the technological advances developed or stolen from alien races. Barely two years old, no finer ship existed in EarthForce, though only five had been built so far.
‘Sorry, sir. Hermione reports being already committed, covering Admiral Breckinridge’s flank past Quadrant 37.’
Ward now had to acknowledge that he had a problem. Even with the reinforcements, there was no guarantee they could win this battle, much less so with losses that would be called ‘acceptable’ by bean counters back on Earth.
‘Signal the fleet,’ he said. ‘Break orbit. Destroyers and cruisers, form up on us. Frigates, protect the scouts. Launch fighters and engage their forward screen at the first opportunity. See if we can begin whittling them down early. Put us on an oblique course; make their big ships work to engage us.’
Satisfied that his orders were being carried out correctly, he looked down at the data streams of the Octurion battleships once more, now sporting the Centauri designations Turhan and Cartagia.
‘How do I fight such beasts?’ he murmured to himself.
July 9th 2263, The Turhan, Beta III
The mood on the bridge of the Turhan was altogether different. For some time the Centauri had endured humiliating defeats and setbacks. Forced to withdraw from their own territories, constantly out-manoeuvred in the game of intergalactic politics and then, of course, seeing their homeworld, the jewel of the Republic, bombarded by their enemies. This battle would set them back on the road to glory that was their rightful place. Moreover, they had an enemy ahead of them on which to vent their years of pent-up frustrations and disappointments.
Maintaining a vaguely disinterested façade, as protocol demanded, Minister Provenza was as eager as any of the crew. As head of the fleet, he stood to gain the most when they returned in triumph to Centauri Prime.
He already noted the Earth fleet comprised many of the best ships the humans had to offer, but not one of them could match the Turhan or Cartagia alone. He regarded their fleet as small. Tiny. Puny. They would sweep across Beta III with majestic pride, crushing each target within range. Even through the thick carpet of the bridge, he could feel the Turhan hum with power as it engaged its massive drives and began the slow trek across space toward battle.
Provenza sent his fighters and lighter ships forward to trap the Earth fleet and pin it down, hoping to block any attempt at escape, mildly gratified that the humans seemed willing to engage as they broke orbit from the colony world. Subconsciously, he began tapping a foot in anticipation until three more Earth ships jumped in system close to the rest of their fleet. He smiled as he imagined the human admiral frantically calling for reinforcements when he saw the Centauri jump into realspace to reclaim their territory. It didn’t matter. Call every ship you have, Provenza thought to himself. Today the Centauri demonstrate their true resolve and nothing will save you from our righteous fury.
Across space, the lead elements of each fleet met. Provenza finally moved from his place on the bridge to look over the shoulders of his crew, monitoring the battle and making mental notes for promotions and recriminations later.
The main bulk of the Centauri fleet was some distance from initial weapons range, but across a wide front, small explosions and energy discharges marked the clash with the Earth fighter squadrons. The Centauri s own fighters, a mix of light Sentris and even lighter Raziks, were spearheaded by several gunships and patrol boats. Technically classified as capital ships, these small vessels were light and fast with weaponry intended to punch through fighter screens and similar small ships. Throughout space, a series of dogfights broke out, running battles that expanded, dispersed and combined to create a brawl of exploding ships and bolts of lethal energy.
The Starfury pilots made good account of themselves against the more nimble and numerous Centauri fighters but were forced to give way when the gunships entered battle, their massed particle arrays lancing out to smash entire flights with each salvo. A few squadrons, covered by their comrades, sallied out from the growing furball to make attack runs on the gunships, paying for their heroic efforts with their lives as concentrated fire made it impossible to approach the larger vessels while maintaining a target lock. The Earth line held for a time, then began to buckle as more and more Starfuries withdrew, either through mounting damage or due to superior numbers of the enemy, forcing a retreat that fast became a rout. Several squadron leaders managed to keep their pilots in check, and the initial rush to escape became tempered as they engaged afterburners, hoping to draw the enemy into the big guns of the main Earth fleet.
Many Centauri fighters obliged and were cut down in minutes as the turrets of the Earth cruisers and destroyers worked overtime to fill space with a criss-crossing of pulse cannon fire impossible to fly through. The gunships refused to follow though, having received standing orders from Minister Provenza to hold until the battleships opened fire, as much from his own interest to claim early victories as their safety.
Provenza nodded, satisfied at the opening stages of battle. Everything was proceeding as expected, and he was not concerned about the loss of fighters. They did not win battles and, more to the point, it was unlikely that any noble of good standing would be found among the dead, as fighter pilots tended to be drawn from the ranks of nobles who did not have enough money or political clout to get a commission on a warship. Feeling the soft hide covering the console in front of him, Provenza recognized the proper way to fight a war, not being cramped inside a tiny fighter and subjected to the rigours of high-gravity manoeuvres. He looked up as an aide tried to get his attention.
‘Yes?’
‘Minister, we have jump points ahead. More ships have arrived!’
At first, Provenza was confused at his aide’s words. He was not expecting any more Centauri ships to arrive and was momentarily irritated with the idea that someone, somewhere within the Centauri military had thought he was not capable of winning this battle alone. ‘Whose ships?’ he said.
‘Minister, they are White Stars.’
Provenza stood upright with a start, the surprise evident in his raised brows. Well now, he thought. This is going to get interesting.
July 9th 2263, White Star 8, Beta III
Rocketing into the contested space of Beta III, seventeen White Stars darted forward from their jump points, immediately speeding for a point equidistant between the Earth and Centauri fleets. On the bridge of White Star 8, Sosa quickly listened to hurried reports of the situation outside.
‘Skirmishing has commenced with their lead elements,’ said the Minbari at the weapons station to his right. ‘Sensors detect debris directly ahead of us, trailing away to the Earth fleet. Some fighter-to-fighter battles are still going on, but it looks like we missed the initial clash.’
‘Then there is still time,’ said Sosa. ‘Their governments can both pass off a few scraps between fighters. It is the big ships we have to stop. What are their relative positions?’
The main holographic display shimmered in front of him, plotting the course of his White Stars and marking the Earth fleet to his right and the Centauri to his left.
‘Oh, that’s comforting,’ said Sosa, as much to lighten his own mood as any of his crew.
‘Do you wish a broadband communication to the fleets?’ asked another Minbari.
‘No. We are going to have to manage each very differently. Get me the Earth admiral first.’
Within seconds, the holographic display changed hue and then presented the face of Admiral Ward to Sosa.
‘White Star fleet,’ acknowledged Ward. ‘It is good to see you. Are you here to lend us support?’
‘Sorry, Admiral,’ replied Sosa. ‘I am here to stop outright war from breaking out. I must insist you break off and leave this system. You are violating the sovereign territory of the Centauri Republic without sanction from the Interstellar Alliance.’
‘We are responding to a legitimate threat to the security of the Earth Alliance, in accordance with the rules of the ISA.’
‘You cannot do this unilaterally, Admiral,’ Sosa persisted. ‘Not without the majority vote of the Council. This is an illegal action, and Earth risks expulsion from the ISA if you persist on this course. Let the Rangers monitor the border between Earth and the Republic--that is what we are here for.’
‘You know that the Council will ratify Earth’s actions here today. I ask again, will you stand beside us against the Centauri? We have reinforcements on the way, but your White Stars will save the lives of many humans today if you commit.’
Out of view of Admiral Ward, Sosa stamped a foot on the deck of the White Star in frustration. He had hoped that the Earth fleet would be convinced to at least delay action. He was not confident that the Centauri alone would be persuaded, but he knew he had to try.
Admiral, please stand by.’ The display went dark, and Sosa signalled the Minister leading the Centauri fleet. It took a full minute for them to respond, which he was sure was a slight of some description. The holographic display presently showed a stern-faced Centauri with a huge hair crest. Dressed in a dark blue greatcoat, he stared down at Sosa, arms crossed in defiance.
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