by Chris Hechtl
“Maybe. We'll see,” the woman replied, waving Jane and Hurranna over. “Break time over. Time to rally the troops ladies,” she said to them. Both women nodded.
:::{)(}:::
Vasili grimaced as his bombers entered the outer engagement zone. He had forty-two bombers with him, three had been destroyed, one had been too damaged to fly once it had gotten back to Crystal Cold, and two others had been down checked at the last minute due to unseen damage.
He also only had a single squadron of fighters to ride cover with him. Not good, he thought as they steered well clear of the enemy fighters and bombers recovering on their fleet carrier.
“This is going to be a bit different people. If they jump as we're expecting, Beta plan will be activated. Keep that firmly in mind and the objectives on your HUD primed for check off. Don't hesitate,” he said over the wing radio network.
“Destroyers in sight,” Anna stated.
“Line up on them. Let's see if they flinch as expected,” Vasili replied. “We've got to make this quick. We don't want to be caught outside the barn when all hell breaks loose,” he said.
:::{)(}:::
Commander Zakhan cursed the timing. He'd thought he'd gotten better at it, but of course he hadn't anticipated life's little hiccups getting in the damn way. Having a fouled deck due to a scraped landing was just the headache he didn't need or want; it had thrown his carefully structured plan in to chaos. It was a clear case of expectations not meeting reality and biting him in the ass; with the deck fouled, he couldn't turn the latter half of his fighters around to meet the incoming bombers as he'd expected.
He had the alert five fighters out of course, and one of his scratch squadrons had refueled. It had half armaments so he threw them at the incoming bombers.
His Emperor class super fighter had the fuel to pitch in, but his wingman was gone. He was leery about mixing it up without someone there to cover his ass.
:::{)(}:::
“Zakhan is in trouble, sir,” Catherine reported.
“I see that,” Admiral De Gaulte rumbled. “Order the destroyer screen in tight. In fact, move them in past the Crueron 5. Get them out of the way.”
“Aye, sir,” Catherine replied.
:::{)(}:::
“They are going for it!” an exultant voice said over the bomber net as their sensors told them the story. The surviving destroyers were being pulled back out of their reach. Just as they'd hoped.
“Okay people, plan Baker is in effect. Repeat, plan Baker,” Vasili said as he keyed up the second plan and inputted it into the computer.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral De Gaulte had one moment to realize he might have erred when he realized the bombers hadn't been warned off by the defensive depth they'd have to go through to get through to their intended targets. He cudgeled his puzzled brain for answers. Nothing came to him until he accidentally flicked his plot to the Z axis and looked down at it. Then he caught on.
“The destroyers were never their intended targets. They are going for the cruisers. Alert the cruisers, Commander,” he barked, looking over to Catherine.
Startled, his OPS officer nodded and then obeyed.
As she began passing orders, he flicked his own microphone to the destroyers. “Cruisers are the target. Halt your retreat and support them,” he ordered.
“In again, out again, Finnegan. Aye aye, Admiral,” Commodore Eichmann replied.
Admiral De Gaulte didn't spare any time or thought to scold the commodore for his flippancy. He had more important things on his mind.
:::{)(}:::
Commodore Sarah Shoemaker cursed as she noticed the bombers lining up on her. As usual the fighters were little help. Most were off tangling with the enemy fighters or dead. It was up to her and her people.
And after the performance the destroyers had exhibited in their own defense, she wasn't entirely confident she wasn't about to lose a ship. Quite possibly Brawler herself. “Getting the deck shot out from under us would suck. The admiral's not going to slow down to pick us up so let's make sure that doesn't happen people. Get on it!” she barked.
:::{)(}:::
Vasili noted the destroyers halting their retreat, but he didn't have much time to comment about it. It meant things were going to get ugly, and their chances of scoring a hit were about to drop. So be it, he thought as he lined up on a Resolution class heavy cruiser.
Since she was the biggest in the squadron, she was most likely the flagship and therefore the brains of the formation. Taking her out would be a big blow.
But taking down a heavy cruiser was easier said than done. He was going to have to allocate a third of his combat power to do it. He clicked his targeting carrot then double clicked on the HC. He then sent the information to his bombardier and the other bombardiers of his wing. “Squadron 1 is going for the big boy. Squadron 2, take on one of the light cruisers, 3 do the same.”
A pair of “copy that” came back over the radio network a moment later.
“Then let's do this,” he said as the enemy ships started to fire their energy and KEW weapons in a hope to take them out before they could launch.
:::{)(}:::
“It looks like one group is lined up on us. Another on Tiger Shark and the last on Coup de Main,” a rating reported. Commodore Shoemaker grunted. “Destroyers and Reaper are moving in to support, but the tin cans are too far out to make more than one counter missile shot,” the rating warned.
“And they don't have many counter missiles left to begin with. Oh well, use them or lose ‘em,” Sarah stated.
“Ma'am?”
“Never mind.”
For the moment she was a spectator watching her flag captain fight his ship. It was at that moment that she regretted breaking the ceiling to get into flag rank. Had she been on a command deck, she could have at least done something more.
:::{)(}:::
Vasili listened as the beeps became a steady drone and then bee. “Torpedoes away!” the A.I. said before his bombardier could. He grunted and immediately pulled his ship into a 100G starboard bank to get clear of the battle space as quickly as possible.
“Two torpedoes are running hot straight and true. One lost lock and is wandering, I can't reacquire to send it updates, damn it,” Benny said from his station. “The last was taken out by a lucky shot,” he reported.
“The other torpedoes?” Vasili asked patiently just as his bird shook.
“We're hit,” Anna said. “Port side. Engine is flaming out.”
“Frack,” Benny said over the VOX.
“The other torpedoes?” Vasili asked as Anna jinked the fighter in time to avoid an unseen graser beam. She flicked the yoke back after a moment. Vasili grunted and decided he needed to focus on his own survival and not the mission for the moment.
:::{)(}:::
Commodore Shoemaker grunted as she saw the bombers launch twenty-six torpedoes at her ship despite everything her ship had thrown at them. Sure they'd managed to pick off one of the bombers, but that obviously wasn't enough. The bastards had fiendishly good stealth and ECM; it was obvious from where she was sitting that the gunnery crews were having a devil of a time locking them up.
And of course they were used to practice firing in VR at starships, not tiny targets that were jinking hard.
She watched one torpedo run into a slew of KEW shot and another follow it into death. Then two were picked off by a sweep of a graser. Most likely it had been blind luck; the graser mount had been targeting one of the retreating bombers at the time.
Counter missiles rumbled silently out into the void to pick off what they could. Her ship had far more of them than a tin can, so fifteen counter missile tubes in her flank fired off volleys at the incoming spread of torpedoes at minimum intervals.
Within the space of ten seconds, seventy-five counter missiles were on an intercept with twenty-two torpedoes. Then the counter missile launch window closed.
The torpedoes immediately began to spit out counter
measures and decoys to lure the counter missiles away. Ten were still taken out by glancing hits. Her counter missiles had nuclear tips; something she hadn't thought would be a problem until she saw the wave of destruction and how it momentarily blinded her ship's sensors.
When her sensors cleared enough to give her a scratchy picture, she noted eight torpedoes were left. She wasn't certain what had happened to the missing four but she wasn't going to complain about it. The point defense lasers kicked on as the main guns fell silent. They twisted and spat unseen fire at the incoming agents of death. Two more were cut down before they went into sprint mode.
She groaned as the last six closed the gap. One more was picked off and then the captain frantically tried to steer his ship away from the torpedoes.
Two breeched her shields like a hot knife through butter and detonated on the hull, sending a ripple of plasma through her flank, tearing into her. Fusion 2 went into emergency shutdown. Klaxons wailed, forcing the commodore and the crew to slam their helmets shut.
The last four torpedoes hit the dying shields at an angle. One ran into the debris being vomited out the wounded ship's flank and detonated early and harmlessly. The remaining three cut into her sides and made the ship shake like a rag doll.
When it was over, the commodore coughed blood and then adjusted her painful straps. “Report?” she demanded.
“We're still here. I don't think much is left, but we're still here,” someone answered.
:::{)(}:::
“Sir, Brawler is alive, barely. We've received a report that Commodore Shoemaker is alive and is working with DCC to get the ship underway again, but she's pretty badly damaged. Coup de Main is also hanging on. Tiger Shark …,” Catherine grimaced. “Her crew is abandoning ship now, sir. She's dead.”
“Very well,” the admiral said. “Get me a status report on the surviving ships. Order the tin cans and Reaper to assist with the search and rescue duties. I want that expedited. Status on the bombers?”
“They are retreating, sir,” Sedrick replied instantly. “The enemy fighters as well.”
“They are going to rearm and do this again I bet. How many torpedoes do they have?” Berney demanded.
“Too many,” Catherine drawled. “But not enough to get all of us. Sir, I think Commander Zakhan is correct. His bombers are a spent force. We don't have enough fire power to make much of a difference. I recommend we keep them back and put his fighters on defensive duty only. They will be better suited there where they can work under our defensive umbrella.”
“And make the Fed bombers think twice about hitting us. Maybe we can hit them further out too,” Berney stated. “I don't like not being able to hit back, but she's got a point, sir,” he said, looking expectantly at the admiral.
“Agreed. Pass on the orders.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
Admiral White noted the damage report and nodded. One light cruiser dead; another and a heavy cruiser, most likely the flagship, battered and probably out of the fight to come. Not bad. Commander Zenkov had enough ordinance for one more bombing run. He wasn't sure the other man was going to get his chance though. Once the missiles began to fly, he didn't want to have the bombers and fighters in the way.
No, he pursed his lips and scratched under his chin. No, it was better to hold them back. In fact … he frowned. “Kyle, pass a message to the bombers. Well done. Then order them to recover and rearm. This time I want them on fleet defense.”
“No more shipping strikes, sir? We've got enough torpedoes for one more, sir,” his OPS officer stated.
“I know. But I don't want them out in the battle space when the missile exchange begins. I have a feeling the enemy is about done playing games with his bombers too.”
“Yes, sir,” Kyle replied with a nod. He turned and began to pass the orders.
:::{)(}:::
A half hour after the bombers had retreated, Admiral De Gaulte had finished reorganizing Crueron 5, or at least overseeing Catherine and Commodore Shoemaker doing the job. The commodore had transferred her flag to Reaper after a brief consultation.
The surviving crews of Coup de Main and Brawler had fallen back on the fleet train. Even with the fleet train's slower speed, the damaged ships were hard pressed to keep up. SAR shuttles moved the wounded to fresh medical facilities since both cruisers were overwhelmed. Surviving crew members from Tiger Shark were also transferred to the fleet train.
There hadn't been many to transfer. Dozens had managed to get off the dying ship, but only two groups had been able to stay with the moving fleet. Both had been on shuttles. According to Kyle's count, eleven people had managed to abandon ship in a skin suit. They were doomed; there was no way he would slow his ships to pick them up. He'd passed the order to tune out their frantic calls for help. He didn't want them to demoralize the crews further.
:::{)(}:::
“They've moved the two damaged ships back to the fleet train, sir,” Kyle reported.
“Good. The bombers?”
“Almost in range to recover. The most damaged ones including the CAG's bird are lagging behind,” Kyle reported.
Jojo looked up in surprise. She grimaced. “I must have missed that one.”
“The crew is okay. They lost an engine though. If they lose any more speed though, they'll be in danger of getting left behind. I'm not sure if the CAG is willing to ditch his bird or not.”
“Probably not,” the admiral stated. “But I want a bird with him just in case so they can transfer over. I don't care how; he can ride on the outside in his suit if he has to. He's got to keep up and make the rendezvous.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kyle stated. He turned and passed the orders on.
:::{)(}:::
“You heard that, Vasili? The admiral said you are to abandon if you lose any more speed so don't screw it up. If she starts to overheat, shut her down and we'll pick you off,” Commander Wilder said over the radio link.
“We'll make it,” Vasili said through gritted teeth. He glanced at the temperature gauges on his number two engine. They were in the redline but were holding steady. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to Anna. The girl was scared and dubious of his decision, but she didn't seem ready to fight him on it. She saw him looking and looked away, biting her lip.
“Well, we're keeping that shuttle handy,” Commander Wilder said. “Just in case. And FYI, we're monitoring your telemetry. Your A.I. and damage control is doing its best, but there is only so much they can do.”
“I'm not losing this plane, Jerrica. We need every single one of them,” Vasili replied. He worked his jaw to force himself to stop grinding his teeth. He could feel a shimmer in the ship. It was like a tremor of a staggering steed, one giving its heart to get to the finish line but dying in the process.
“Roger that. We're watching,” the commander replied. “Spirits of space speed,” she said softly.
:::{)(}:::
Once they were in range, the bombers lined up with their carriers and recovered in an orderly process. Vasili was pissed when he was denied a chance to land. Instead he was directed topside. He managed to get close enough to Crystal Cold to allow a shuttle to push his bomber to the exterior dorsal hull. Over his objections the crew were ordered to debark there. Once they were clear, the shuttle pulled away and his bomber drifted off into the void.
“Damn it!” he snarled. “What the hell?”
“We can get more bombers. Get inside,” a rating said, waving them to the nearest hatch.
“But …”
“The engines were past red line and damn near ready to blow, sir. Not your call to endanger the ship,” the rating replied. “It's the crew that matters now, sir,” he reminded them gently. “Nice job out there by the way,” he said.
“Damn it,” Vasili muttered as he looked over to Benny and Anna. Benny wrapped his arm around Anna's hunched shoulders and helped guide her along. Vasili grunted and reached down to turn the magnetic clamps on his boots down sli
ghtly then followed them. He looked over to his left just in time to see the battle cruisers open up with their first broadside. He whistled softly.
That got the attention of the others who turned and looked at him. He pointed to the missiles.
“Talk about a ringside seat,” Benny said, whistling in appreciation as well.”
“I'd just assume we get our asses inside, thank you,” Anna muttered.
“Right,” Vasili replied, motioning them forward once more.
Chapter 13
As Second Fleet slowed in their braking maneuver, the Horathian Retribution Fleet closed the gap. When the distance dropped to less than half a light minute, Commander Ramichov cleared her throat meaningfully. The staff looked up in surprise at the noise.
“Yes, Commander?” the admiral asked, turning to look at her over his shoulder.
“Sir, we're at point Alpha. Do you wish to engage or let the range fall further?” Catherine asked.
“I'm tempted to let it fall further, but I also want to know how effective our missiles are. There is no point wading in further if we can't survive their missile envelope,” the admiral rumbled pensively.
“Aye, sir. I believe they'll be opening fire at any moment,” she replied meaningfully.
“Then let's not disappoint them. Keep the dreadnaughts back, but pass the order to Admiral Adkin to fire with my compliments. But he is to stick to the firing plan,” he admonished, holding an upraised finger in warning. “Capital ships only. Keep the others on defense.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Catherine replied with a nod. She turned and nodded to a communication's rating who then passed the order on.
A moment later six battle cruisers spat a volley of missiles to the enemy. After five seconds a second volley was fired and then a third at another five-second interval. They were forced to fire from their bow tubes due to the geometry of the conflict. They couldn't come at the enemy fleet and expose their flanks for another hour. Each of the three Newman class had six bow tubes. The two Derfflingers had ten bow tubes, and the lone Harbringer class Demeantor spat eight. A total of thirty-six capital ship missiles were fired in each volley at a single target.