by Chris Hechtl
He settled himself and then nodded once. “We traverse to a new heading. One he's not expecting. A bank is typical but it puts us off our game. Diving is also normal to some species. We'll head up.” He grimaced. An emergency blow on the Z axis was also considered normal in some circles as well, he thought. To hell with it. He had to choose a direction, and he'd made his decision. He'd pay for it later … if at all. Hopefully not at all.
“Aye aye, sir,” Jeremy replied dubiously. The navigator shot a look to the staff then went about passing the orders.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral White nodded when he saw the heading change. It was to be expected. They'd have to choose a direction; up on the Z axis was as good as any. It also put as much distance between the fleets as possible. He hadn't wasted time trying to outguess his opponent, he'd waited. Now that they were committed, he ordered his ships to go to flank speed.
Placing the mine field where they had in the system had been a bit of a gamble. It looked like it was paying off+. His timing could have used a bit of fine tuning, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
Not now. Especially not now, he thought with a sardonic twist of his lips.
The classic armchair situation would have been an ambush. To drop the mines at the entry point to the star system or on to the next one in B-97a. But both sides had learned how to avoid that situation by the simplest of expedients, to jump short where the mines weren't. They couldn't be everywhere; space was vast. The ships could carry only so many, and dispersing them meant that they wouldn't have gotten the coverage they'd needed.
Hence his current plan. And his plan to fixate the enemy's eyes on him for the chase. To make them look over their shoulder instead of where they'd been going. It had almost worked.
Almost might be good enough if he played his remaining cards just right.
“Comm, pass the signal to the carriers. Launch the fighters and bombers. Time to soften them up before we finish this,” he growled.
Chapter 44
Commander Wilder felt the kick in the seat of her pants as her fighter launched. She followed protocol and cleared the ship's launch area and then looped around to where some of the other fighters were waiting. “Interceptors on me. Form up on my beacon,” she ordered, using her implants to trigger her beacon.
“Aye aye, ma’am,” Lieutenant Darling said as she banked away from her own catapult and came online.
“We'll be there in a moment, CAG,” Hurranna said over the net. The commander ignored the jibe.
She glanced over to another CAG icon. She knew from experience Commander Meia was not happy about drawing the short straw and being kept back to cover the fleet and act as the reserve. That was the breaks, they both knew it. It could have easily gone the other way. It would be the other way once Wilder got back and they switched places.
But first they had to engage the enemy she reminded herself.
“Keep the home fires burning and the beer cold,” Lieutenant Darling said as the squadrons finished forming up and moved out a thousand kilometers ahead of the bombers.
:::{)(}:::
Commander Vasili Zenkov snorted when he heard the statement from Lieutenant Darling. Beer, as if. He was going to have a hard drink, a proper Russian drink when he got back. He shook his head, glanced at his CO and then focused on the mission as the other bombers formed up behind him and his ship's beacon.
He'd settle on just a few ships, kill them, come back, rearm, and do it again. But that wasn't what the brass had in mind. Their orders were to spread their fire again. It was aggravating; concentrating it would allow them hard kills. But the admiral wanted the enemy to take drive damage, to hamper their hyperdrives or take them offline permanently. He understood that intellectually, but he knew the mission plan would get more of his people killed.
But orders were orders. They'd get the job done.
:::{)(}:::
“Bombers have launched, sir,” CIC reported.
“It figures. He held them back until he saw which way we'd jump. Now that we're committed he can send them in without fear of us changing course again,” Berney growled.
“Exactly,” Myron said, shaking his head. His eyes turned from the images of ships coming up their rear to the explosions about to happen in front of them. “I'm passing the orders to launch our own bombers in ten minutes, sir. Not that I expect them to do much good.”
Berney grimaced but nodded.
Admiral De Gaulte had ordered his point ships to fire into the outer edges of the mine field to see how big and deep it was and to chew into it so they could cut the corner tighter and get over the barrier to empty space. The proximity fuses would hopefully set off two or more mines, so they wouldn't exactly be wasting the precious munitions. At least that was the theory at any rate.
The lead elements got a lot more than they bargained for when they set the first mine off however. The explosion was ten times what they'd expected. Daring's shields rippled as she caught a piece of the explosion.
“Sir, judging from those explosions, they are not fusion or fission warheads. They are antimatter mines, sir,” Myron reported, looking frightened. “It's the only thing that fits given their size and dispersion pattern,” he said when Berney sucked in a protesting breath. “And, they've got a force emitter component for good measure, something that rips apart shields and tears into a ship if it is too close. Anything that gets caught by one of them will be ripped apart, no matter the size.”
“Another new weapon,” Catherine said in disbelief. “That explains how four ships could pack in so many.” She turned to the admiral.
The admiral grunted in agreement. “Just count your blessings they've only got so many, and that they didn't get the warheads onto their torpedoes or missiles,” Admiral De Gaulte said.
“Yet,” Myron added from his station, not looking up as he passed on orders.
The admiral grimaced but didn't say anything. He saw Catherine flinch but then return to her job.
The problem was, on the heading they were on and at the speed they were going, jumping into hyper would be virtual suicide for most of his ships.
Admiral De Gaulte saw the enemy BCs and dreadnaughts coming at his fleet and knew he was in trouble. “General order to the fleet. Any ship that can't keep up gets left behind. The flagship sets the pace,” he ordered. “We can take the damage; move Star Mauler and Executioner back to rear guard.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me,” the admiral growled. It was cold, ice cold logic but it was the only thing they could do. He had to save something of the fleet, and he was determined to do so. “We'll cover the fleet the best we can.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
“It looks like they bought it, sir,” Jojo said, checking the board. She nodded as she looked up to the admiral.
“Yes it does. Nice work,” the admiral said mildly.
“Not my idea, sir. And I think we all owe those mine layers an open tap when they get home,” Jojo said. Garfield looked up from where he was working, snorted and then flicked his ears, then went back to quietly passing orders.
“That we do,” the admiral replied absently.
Space was vast, and even if the four mine layers had laid the mines on a direct heading from the one jump point to the other, they hadn't had enough mines in their massive holds for much depth or spread. It was an age-old dilemma—go for spread to cover a vast area like a wall or depth to absorb an enemy's attempt to run the field. With enough time and mines, it wasn't an issue. They hadn't had either available.
Instead they'd done the next best thing. Three of the monster colliers had carried mines, a lot of them. Thousands of two-meter diameter barrels with sensors and a force emission lance on one end followed by a nuclear warhead and at the rear a sprint engine for final target acquisition.
But there had been four ships. The fourth had carried a cargo hold of something else. It had been risky, but it looked like the risk had paid off. Instead
of carrying mines, she'd carried mine decoys. Far smaller than a real mine, at about thirty centimeters in diameter she could pack more into her holds. The fake mines gave the sensor return of the real thing.
The mine layer had carried a lot of decoys, nearly three times as many decoys as mines to the other three ships combined.
Since they hadn't known exactly which vector the enemy would come in on and had to hold them at bay, the mine layers had put the real mines in the outermost ranks in a shell backed by the decoys. Seeing the real thing up close gave the Horathians the illusion that there were far more behind them.
“You know, I should thank John for the idea,” Amadeus said.
“Um, you mean Admiral Irons, sir?” Garfield asked, glancing towards his boss. “Why, sir?”
“For giving me the initial idea. I read the report on his clash in B101a1. It's what sparked this idea actually. He had taken a collier in with his forces and dumped her cargo in the face of the enemy.”
“I don't see it as the same thing, sir.”
“No, but it did spark the idea,” the admiral said with a shrug. “And it's working, so I'm not complaining.”
“No, sir. Neither am I,” the orange Neocat replied with a nod. He turned back to his station as another report came in. “The fighters are moving in, sir,” he said in a professional tone.”
“Understood,” the admiral growled.
:::{)(}:::
Even with their head start, the Horathian ships couldn't outrun some of their pursuers. Once launched the federation fighters and bombers were faster than the Horathian ships since their base velocity was higher. They rapidly closed the range between the two fleets. A small token force came out to try to block them.
Jane Darling shook her head as she saw the meager enemy showing coming out to meet her swarm. “No contest,” she murmured when she noted the single pair of fighters moving out to intercept the swarm of fighters. “Ballsy though. You've got to give them credit for that.”
“Less chatter, more work,” Commander Wilder scolded. “Marcello, your squadron has the fighters. Take them out from range if you please.”
“With pleasure,” the squadron leader from Crystal Cold acknowledged. After a moment four of his fighters fired at long range. The missiles spread out to bracket each of the fighters. The fighters immediately spat counter measures like chaff, decoys, and flares and went evasive.
Jane didn't pity them. They were dead; they were just going to die tired. “The rest of us are on the bombers. Take them out,” Commander Wilder growled.
:::{)(}:::
“Fighters are going for the bombers, sir,” a CPO said, turning to the tactical officer.
“Well, they just got torched for little help,” the tactical officer growled, shaking his head.
“They are getting the enemy to spend their forces on them. It's all we can hope for at this point,” the admiral said.
Myron looked at him and then nodded. The admiral was like a rock despite the situation, cold and unmoving at the losses or the threat hovering over them, ready to smash them into pebbles.
:::{)(}:::
Lieutenant Nezier saw his first and last CAG command evaporate as the fighters came for him and his fellow bombers. “Fight your ships,” he growled over the squadron link. “You're no good to anyone if you're dead. If you can take one of the bastards with you, by all means go for it,” he said as the missiles began to fly. He heard his copilot gulp in dismay.
“Nice knowing you,” the lieutenant said just as he kicked the yoke over and flipped the defenses on. Benny his bombardier was already going apeshit trying to engage the incoming fire but he had to do something other than just watch the damn missiles come in. He kicked the ship in random jinks and even squeezed the trigger a few times to send KEW rounds off into the void at targets coming in on his LIDAR.
He never saw the missile that came up their rear and tore his ship apart.
:::{)(}:::
“We're supposed to stop that? No flipping way!” a startled rating said, instinctively backing away from his station as flight instincts kicked in.
“Back to your station,” Captain O'Shanasae barked, pointing to the man, then the seat. “Get back there or I'll put you down myself,” he said, one hand on his pistol.
The rating stared at him, eyes dropping to the pistol the skipper casually took out of his holster and laid in his lap. He gulped and then nodded and went back to his seat, nervously looking at the skipper out of the corner of his eye the entire time.
Red nodded to his XO, then looked at the tactical repeater. It didn't look good; they all knew that. Destroyers were screening units though; they were there to deflect or absorb the incoming fire.
So, he intended to do his job and damn anyone who got in his way.
“Red, they are about to break through the bombers. The bombers have just about evaporated. Get ready,” Commodore Eichmann said from his number two display.
“Aye aye, sir,” the captain replied dutifully.
:::{)(}:::
Vasili grinned as the fighters tore a hole through the outer layer. They didn't just tear a hole as much as tear it apart. None of the enemy fighters or bombers survived. His grin widened. “We've got clear skies, people. Let's make this count. At this speed we've got one pass. Make it a good one,” he growled.
His eyes narrowed and his grin faded as the surviving enemy destroyers moved in to cover the fleet train and capital ships. “Gamma Squadron, Delta, you've got the tin cans. Keep them busy. Alpha, Beta, you're on me. Let's hit ‘em where it hurts,” he said as he lined up on the factory ship, then jinked and settled on a distant but more appetizing cruiser.
:::{)(}:::
“Bombers and fighters are gone, sir. Just … gone,” a rating said in a subdued tone of voice. Bombers are launching now,” she warned.
“Very well,” Admiral De Gaulte said quietly, watching the plot. The die had been cast; he was a spectator. There was little he could do now to interrupt the enemy's attack.
:::{)(}:::
Commodore Eichmann cursed under his breath as the torpedoes came in. They lined up well outside missile range and fired. Each bomber carried four torpedoes, and they were spreading their fire between the fourteen surviving destroyers. Red immediately ordered the ship to go to evasive and begin spitting counter missiles.
He wasn't certain if it would be worth it or not. What he did know was that while his ship and the others fought for their own lives they were not protecting their charges.
And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
:::{)(}:::
Vasili grinned as his bomber and wingman got to the outer engagement zone and the bombardiers let loose. He kept their heading for a brief moment longer, just long enough to be sure the telemetry feed was solid and the torpedoes were off flying hot straight and true before he pulled away in a long bank.
He didn't see the destroyer turning away from the torpedoes Gamma had fired at it. He entered her outer engagement zone on her port side and her weapons lashed out. His wingman died first, the explosion buffeted his ship like a terrier with a rag. Then a second missile caught his ship's stern and flipped her into a fast tumble that the inertial dampeners couldn't hope to handle. They fried and he and his crew died without ever knowing how well they did.
:::{)(}:::
Explosions once more began to speckle the plot like leprous blisters popping. Ships twisted and turned and fired desperately to intercept the fire. Fortunately, only eight torpedoes were allocated to each of the ships.
Some ships did better at defense than others of course. The unarmed tenders were torn apart by the merciless ordinance. The two couriers managed to hide in the shadow of Executioner so they survived. The factory ship Goibniu was torn to shreds.
The speed of the Horathians and the overtaking bombers allowed them only one pass however. One pass with half a load of bombers. But it was enough to cripple some of the warships. The fleet train in the rear was far fro
m just crippled though; it was torn apart.
The spread fire allowed the destroyers to better intercept the torpedo strike lined up on them but at the expense of a great deal of their counter missiles in the process. With little to lose, they fired them expansively, as fast as their launchers could handle. Some even fired them from their primary missile tubes as well.
But despite the all-out effort two destroyers took hard hits as torpedoes got through their counter missiles and point defense lasers to rip through their shields and up into their armor. Daring was one of the two, the squadron flagship fell out of line and formation in her death throws. The breacher round tore a diagonal tunnel through her guts, tearing apart the flag bridge killing Commodore Eichmann and his staff.
Red managed to pick himself up off the deck after the hit. He noted woozily that the emergency lights were on, glaring red leeringly like some brothel. “We're done for. Abandon ship!” the XO said, helping his skipper up.
Red leaned into the man, trying to get his bearings. He saw his pistol fly by and realized the gravity was already fading. “We've got to get to the pods, sir,” the XO said, slapping his skipper's visor down and then checking the readouts.
“Get him to the life pods. I'll oversee the evac,” the XO said, handing the skipper off to a rating.
“I'm all right,” Red said, trying to brush the helping hands aside. But something kicked loose nausea in his stomach, and he began to wretch in the suit uncontrollably. That took him out for a few minutes.
:::{)(}:::
Commander Adam Ramichov swore as his ship's status board turned red. Turned red in areas he could least afford to see damage being taken. His training took over as he, the chief, and skipper started barking orders to handle the damage control.