by D. J. Holmes
“Report sent,” Emilie announced moments later. “Can you imagine the look his bridge officers will have on their faces when they see the Flex-aor fleet jumping out of shift space. They’ll probably not believe what our reports say about their numbers.”
“I imagine they won’t,” Miyamoto replied to Emilie with a wink. “They’ll see soon enough though.”
“Eh… Admiral,” Lieutenant Yue said twenty minutes later, just a minute after the first COM messages had started to reach Golden Hind from their reinforcements.
“Yes Lieutenant?” James responded as he looked up from the holo- projector on his command chair. He had been scanning Ramirez’s initial operational report.
“I’ve been going through the manifests of those supply freighters to see what we can use.”
“And?” James asked in an effort to speed Yue up. When Golden Hind’s bridge was full of officers, he was usually quite shy. A trait James was trying to get him over.
“Three of the freighters are carrying multistage missiles. In fact, that’s all they’re carrying. They have enough for at least four full salvos from our fleet.”
James’s eyes widened. When he glanced at Scott, she had a similar look on her face. They were both thinking about the possibilities.
“With that many missiles, we can give them a real bloody nose,” Becket said, showing that her mind was already working along the same track.
“All Human ships in our fleet are to increase acceleration and rendezvous with Ramirez’s supply freighters as soon as possible. All ships are to begin taking on multistage missiles. Signal Ya’sia and let her know that she can continue escorting our damaged ships. Once that is done, I want all senior staff members in the briefing room. Set up a COM conference with Sato and Gupta as well. We have some thinking to do.
*
The next three hours were a muddle in James’ memory. After a quick planning meeting, he had spent time talking to Ya’sia, Ramirez, and then Sato and Gupta again. In amongst all that, he had been directing his staff as they organized the transfer of the multistage missiles to his forces. Far quicker than he would have thought possible, his staff resupplied every undamaged Human ship with enough missiles for four salvos. It also turned out Ramirez ships didn’t need any; they were already fully stocked.
*
Flex-aor flagship, Pacifier
When the Flex-aor fleet finally did show up, its commander was met by another unexpected situation. One part of his enemy’s’ fleet was exactly where Al’ramack expected them to be. The fleet of damaged enemy warships and freighters was moving as fast as it could through the system towards the next shift passage.
The other part of the alien’s fleet, the part that concerned Al’ramack the most, was nowhere to be seen. A low growl escaped as he considered what the alien Admirals were up to. His High Queen had given him express orders to kill both the Human called Somerville and the Crian called Ya’sia. Their flagships were priority targets. Despite his desire to bring them to battle, he kept his fleet stationary for several minutes as he sent out frigates to scan nearby space. He didn’t want to allow the aliens to fire another missile salvo and then flee without being brought to battle. When he was happy the alien ships weren’t in the immediate vicinity, he gave the order to advance. Rather than run into whatever trap the aliens were trying to set up, he split his forces. Keeping two thirds of his larger warships concentrated, he spread the rest of his ships out into a large search pattern. Wherever the aliens were hiding, they weren’t going to launch any more sneak attacks.
Forty minutes later his scouts finally detected something. “Commander, I think we have them,” a subordinate reported. “Bloodlust has detected some intermittent electromagnetic radiation. Her Captain believes one of the alien stealth technologies is malfunctioning. Gragnar is also picking up traces of the Crian warships. It seems the aliens have split their forces.”
Al’ramack grunted to acknowledge the report and then waited for his display screen to update with the new contacts. They’re trying to lure us into a trap, he surmised when he saw where the two enemy fleets were. Both enemy fleets were hanging back behind their fleeing damaged warships, one fleet was on each side of the path their damaged ships had taken. If I charge ahead at full speed after their damaged ships, they will pounce on my lead elements. Perhaps they want me to think they have abandoned their damaged ships and have already left the system. “Prepare to record my orders. I want them transmitted to Admirals M’ka and Laron. We will be splitting our fleet.”
*
“I think we’ve been spotted,” Miyamoto reported. “This frigate here should have got close enough to detect our signal seven minutes ago. Look at how their fleet is reacting.”
“Their commander is a good tactician,” James commented. “Look at how he is reorganizing his fleet. They intend to give chase to our damaged ships. But they’re not coming after us as fast as they could. They want us to think they haven’t detected us, whilst all the while, they’re maneuvering to put their main fleet between us and our supply ships.”
It was subtle, most junior officers probably wouldn’t have seen it, but James had been in enough battles to sense what was happening. The Flex-aor commander was reforming his fleet into four sections. Together they were giving chase in an attempt to bring the damaged Human and Crian ships to battle. The rearmost three sections of the Flex-aor fleet would never be able to catch their damaged enemies, however, the forward section, if it was released, would. It was made up of faster destroyers and frigates. However, they weren’t being released. The Flex-aor commander was advancing with all his forces at once, positioning his fleet directly between James’ and Ya’sia’s fleet. If James or Ya’sia wanted to come to the aid of their damaged ships, they would have to fight their way through the main Flex-aor fleet. At least, if James waited another hour or so they would.
“They’re doing exactly what you predicted they would do,” Scott said, the awe in her voice was unmistakable. “How did you know?”
“Like I said, their commander is a good tactician. It’s what I would do if I thought I had discovered two enemy fleets trying to hide from me,” James answered. “There’s no way this Flex-aor commander knows about our multistage missiles. He won’t be factoring them into his tactical analysis.”
“Well, it looks like we’re going to have them where we want them,” Becket said. “Shall we dangle the bait?”
“By all means,” James replied.
Becket nodded to Emilie and the COM officer touched a couple of buttons on her command console. “Orders sent,” she informed everyone.
Five minutes later, the fleet of damaged warships and supply ships increased their rate of acceleration slightly to force the Flex-aor’s hand.
“Their forward fleet is detaching. They’re increasing their acceleration rates,” Ivanov reported.
“Let’s give them plenty of time to move ahead of the rest of their fleet,” James replied. He sat back in his command chair and tapped one of his fingers as he waited patiently. After twenty minutes he sat forward again. The time had come. “Fire,” he ordered.
“Take us to maximum military power,” he ordered as soon as the first missile salvo cleared their tubes. “Fire a second salvo as soon as the fleet has reloaded.”
“Ya’sia’s ships are accelerating,” a sensor officer reported.
“Their main fleet hasn’t changed vector,” Miyamoto said as he looked up from his command console. “There’s nothing they can do.”
“That’s the idea,” James reminded him. “Now we’ll see what this Flex-aor commander is made of.”
*
Al’ramack could hardly believe what he was witnessing. The Human fleet had opened fire with their anti-ship missiles at a range far beyond anything they had fired from before. As the missiles accelerated towards his lead fleet, he kept telling himself they were going to run out of fuel. The Humans were pulling some kind of trick. Perhaps they were just trying to distract him
whilst they tried to get away, having realized they had been detected. He breathed a sigh of relief when the first salvo of missiles disappeared off his flagship’s gravimetric plot. Their engines had cut out. It was a ploy after all.
Suddenly another three thousand contacts appeared on his sensors. The Human fleet had fired again. What are they doing? Al’ramack asked himself. The situation was getting away from him. The Humans and Crians kept using different tactics. He was used to enemies that simply rolled over and died. The constantly changing tactical environment was hard to follow.
Amazement filled Al’ramack when three thousand more contacts appeared on his ship’s sensors. This time they weren’t being fired from the Human ships; they had appeared less than twenty light seconds from his forward fleet. It was the first missile salvo the Humans had fired. They had reignited their engines. Though his fleet had altered course slightly to avoid any attempts by the first missile salvo to score ballistic kills, they weren’t far enough away to avoid powered missiles. Over the next two minutes, the Humans’ first missile salvo closed to attack range and wove their way through his forces’ point defenses. More than three hundred reached attack range and detonated. Grazer beams tore through his light warships. There had been four hundred and fifty destroyers and frigates in the forward fleet he had sent after the damaged alien warships. After the last missile exploded, there were just three hundred and twenty left.
Al’ramack growled in anger. Even if the range of his missiles was doubled, his lead fleet wouldn’t be able to return fire. They were being picked apart for nothing. As he watched; the second Human missile salvo disappeared off the gravimetric plot. Immediately the commander of his lead fleet reacted. His fleet carried out a much more significant course change. As they were doing this, the Human fleet fired a third salvo.
As the second Human salvo reappeared on the gravimetric plot, Al’ramack turned away from his display screen. There was no point in watching. The Human missiles would easily catch his lead fleet despite their course change. The Humans would wouldn’t need a fourth salvo, the next two would tear his lead fleet apart. He had been suckered into sending them forward. He knew that now. If the Humans had fired their salvo at his combined fleet of four thousand warships, his defenses would have easily dealt with their missiles. Against a small portion of his fleet, the massive range advantage the Human missiles had allowed them to strike with impunity.
“Send the command to all ships in our fleet. We are turning around. We will return to Her-iach and report to the High Queen. We cannot catch this alien fleet and our supplies will soon start to dwindle. We must return home and prepare for a proper invasion.” Al’ramack had no doubt a full-scale invasion of the alien’s home systems would be what Ala’ron desired. He was sure preparations were already ongoing. However, he strongly suspected he would not be leading the attack. Ala’ron would have him executed as soon as he returned to their homeworld. He accepted that. This alien fleet had assaulted a Flex-aor colony and raided their home system. Never before had something like that happened. Someone would have to take the blame for letting them escape. If his death meant the fleet would be allowed to avenge the insult the Humans and Crians had heaped upon their High Queen then so be it. There was no point throwing ships away for nothing. They would be able to fight another day.
Turning back to his display screen he stared at the enemy fleet. Someone will come for you, he thought as he pictured the Human and Crian Admirals who had met with his High Queen. Someone will come.
Chapter 18
Sometimes I think there must an Office for the Recording of Bureaucratic Titles somewhere hidden on Earth. How else could the Empire keep track of the thousands of different titles and jobs that its bureaucracy is constantly giving rise to?
-Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD.
Liberty, capital city of Haven, 1st August 2478 AD.
Suzanna Somerville, First Councilor of Haven, pushed her chair back from the office desk and turned to face the large projection screen she had requested months ago. The screen was showing a live feed from one of the satellites in high orbit around Haven. She had just finished signing off on a number of minor laws the Haven Council had recently passed. Her workday was now complete. As had become her custom, she took a few moments to watch her planet go about its day to day business before she headed home.
She liked the sense of peace she got from watching the green and blue of her homeworld slowly passing by underneath the satellite. Large swaths of Haven were still pristine and untouched by Human development and they were beautiful. She also enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the ships in orbit. Haven was a developing world and over the last number of years, billions of credits had been invested in its infrastructure and industries. Liberty, Haven’s capital, carried almost no trace of the scars the city had suffered in the battle with the Indian invaders. Billions more credits had been spent rebuilding the city and though Suzanna was happy to see its healthy appearance, it made her frown. The city’s redevelopment was almost complete and that meant many of the jobs that had boosted Haven’s economic recovery were disappearing. More than a thousand construction jobs were disappearing every day and the responsibility to find replacement work largely fell on her shoulders. For a time, the military build-up the UN fleet was overseeing had offset the decreasing need for redevelopment workers. Two new shipyards had been constructed over the last three years and they were all at full capacity churning out ships for the UN. However, with the most recent reduction in the naval budget, no new construction orders would be coming Haven’s way. It would take another four years to fulfil their current orders so Suzanna wasn’t afraid of losing shipyard jobs just yet, but the shipyards wouldn’t be employing any additional workers either. She had to find other industries to expand to accommodate the decreasing redevelopment work on her planet.
It’s not the worst problem to be facing, she reminded herself as the image of Haven continued to rotate and brought the mountainous wilderness beyond Liberty into view. It held a special place in her people’s hearts. It was where the resistance fighters had carried out their guerrilla campaign against the Indian forces. Things could be much worse. Having to find new areas of employment for a keen and highly trained workforce was a problem she was happy to have to deal with. Given Haven’s recent past, it was a pleasure to be focused on the economy rather than political intrigue or invasion.
After stretching her arms above her head, Suzanna stood and rolled her shoulders. Since becoming First Councilor she had been spending more and more time in her office. I have to get out more, she thought. I need to organize more site visits. If not, I’ll have to start going to the gym.
Tapping a button on her desk, she opened a COM channel to her secretary. “That’s me finished Cynthia. I’ve left those laws signed on my desk. You can gather them and send them back to the Council. I want to head home. Let my security detail know I’ll be walking. I could do with the exercise.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cynthia replied over the COM channel. “I’ve just got word from the signals department that a packet ship arrived in system an hour ago. They are processing the diplomatic messages now. I’m expecting a download of any messages for your office any moment. Shall I send them on to your residence?”
Suzanna grimaced. Diplomatic messages meant one thing. More work. “No, send them through to me here. I’ll go through them now and see if there’s anything urgent. The rest can wait until tomorrow.” She disliked bringing work home with her. She had a letter to James she planned to work on after taking a long soak. If she brought work home, she’d probably not get to either.
With a sigh she sat back down and watched as Haven passed below the satellite. When the diplomatic messages came through, she quickly dismissed the majority of them as unimportant. For the most part, they were simply keeping her informed about the various activities on Earth and the other Human colonies. A couple of reports claimed to deal with the Outer Defense Fleet and its campaign against the Flex-aor
homeworld. Suzanna dismissed them even quicker than the others. Her husband’s fleet would be a long way from Human space by now. Whatever the reports contained, there was no way they would have any accurate up-to-date information. They were nothing more than guesswork by highly paid analysts on Earth. That, and no doubt there would be more speculation about the Crian species. Suzanna was dying to know more about them, but until James returned, there was no way to get any more information.
Just as she was about to stand and stretch again, one message caught her eye. It was from Andréa, the executive officer of the Somerville Foundation. Initially Suzanna had known her as James’ financial adviser and partner in the Foundation. Now Suzanna counted her as a close friend and confidant. Taking her time, she read through Andréa’s message. The tone of her opening sentence had made her pause.
Dear Suzanna,