The ground shock died away, the glare dimmed, and he finally looked back up. Six pillars of fire and smoke filled the northern sky.
"More bombers coming down… count thirty plus, bearings three one nine, angels one five eight…" An explosion ignited on the west side of the base and the radio snapped off.
"They'll go for the skyhook now," Ulandi said and, stepping away from the building, with the young corporal clinging to his side, he watched as a Kilrathi bomber came thundering in, so close to the ground that swirls of dust eddied up behind it. The bomber shrieked down the length of the runway and pressed on eastwards, banking slightly to the south. Twin flashes of light ignited under its belly and two missiles streaked away.
"These might be small nukes," Ulandi said.
"Why not on top of us?" the corporal asked, struggling to control her voice.
"They want the base, but they'll knock out the tower and maybe drag down the ships still hooked to it."
The bomber banked up sharply, followed suddenly by half a dozen Javelins. Flares streaked out behind the ship, one of the Javelins swerving and detonating, but the other missiles closed in and Ulandi felt a grim satisfaction as the bomber disintegrated, the girl beside him letting out an emotion-releasing scream of triumph. But the attacker had already accomplished his mission. One of the missiles was dropped by the point defense around the base of the tower, but the second round slammed into the durasteel frame of the skyhook and detonated with a force of sixty kilotons. The heat of the fission bomb tore out half of the tower's armor. If that alone had been the effect of the weapon, it might have survived, but the shock wave now set up a fatal oscillation, the way a wave of movement travels down a taut string which has been plucked. The tower began to waver, the shock wave from the blast rushing down to the ground, hitting, then reverberating back up. Thrusters mounted along the length of the tower, which were designed to dampen any motion created by earthquakes, were now firing at full power to try to counter the blow. The reflected shockwave now hit and the thrusters were firing in the wrong direction, adding their power to the blow. The tower sheared off several kilometers above where the warhead had detonated.
The skyhook tower of McAuliffe, connecting to base Alexandria over twenty thousand miles above, started to collapse. Due to its size, it'd be several minutes before those at the top of the tower would even feel anything, but when they did and the tower started to fall, it would drag down with it any ship that was in hard dock.
Ulandi could not help but feel a sense of admiration for the Cats and the masterful skill and coordination demonstrated in their attack. They had struck with surgical precision, knocking out the reactors which provided the thousands of gigawatts of energy for the shields, which for a hundred years had been proclaimed to be the ultimate defense. With the shields gone, all of the defensive doctrine and infrastructure built up around them was nothing more than broken toys waiting to be kicked apart.
From out of the south he saw several dozen flashes of reflected light. They quickly took form, a sweep of Kilrathi fighters coming in to strafe the base and nail anything that might still offer resistance.
Thirty years, he thought, thirty years getting ready for this moment, and now…
He took a long drag on his cigar and exhaled slowly. Funny, he thought, don't have to worry about inhaling the stuff now and he took another deep drag so that the cigar tip glowed bright red.
"I'm scared."
He looked down and saw her terrified eyes. Sergeant Major Manual Ulandi made a hushing sound, as if stilling the fears of a frightened child, and drew her in close, burying her face into his chest.
Best for her to get it here rather than trapped down in the basement, he thought. Holding the soldier, who was really still a child, he watched as the fighters closed in, guns flashing.
* * *
"Jak-ta Gal Jak-ta Ga! Jak-ta Gal"
The triumphal cry, announcing the destruction of the reactors and the lowering of the main base shields, erupted from the speakers on the bridge, greeted an instant later by wild shrieks and roars of unspeakable joy as those around the Crown Prince broke into a mad demonstration. Fists were raised to the heavens, talons extended, some of the warriors turning the talons on themselves, slicing open their own veins so that they might smell blood and then drink it.
Even the Crown Prince allowed the moment to seize him, and he ritualistically cut his arm open, holding it up so that all might see the blood flow. His staff clamored around him, offering their blood to him so that they could someday tell their cubs how they had shared blood with the Emperor at the moment of his greatest triumph.
Gilkarg finally stepped free of the turmoil and approached the flat, two dimensional screen as a wavery vid image appeared, shot by a tail gunner on a bomber and beamed back. Fighters were crisscrossing the ground base, hundreds of fires igniting beneath their hammer blows. As the bomber turned it showed the skyhook tower. The structure was so massive that it appeared to be moving in slow motion as sections of the tower, dozens of kilometers long, snapped off, the tower disintegrating from the bottom up.
"We've won!"
He whirled about to look at the fool who now taunted the gods to steal back their victory. The communications officer, realizing the supreme folly of proclaiming victory before it was accomplished, lowered his head.
"Its only started," Gilkarg roared.
* * *
"Helm, give me full throttle, now!"
"We're barely out of cold start," came a nervous reply. "We need another five minutes, or we might rupture the pumps."
"In five minutes we're dead. Full power now!" Turner clicked over to the shield control center.
"Defensive shielding?"
"Defensive shields here, sir."
"As soon as the engines power up, take shields up to fifty percent. I'll give you word when you can draw more."
"Aye, sir."
Commander Turner snapped the line shut and looked back up at the starboard view screen. The full weight of the Kilrathi attack was sweeping in across the far side of the base. He had expected their attack to go straight for the ground reactors, but the speed with which they had been knocked out was startling. The additional ten to fifteen minutes he was praying for simply wasn't there any more.
"Sir?"
One of the combat analysis team looked back from her station and motioned for him to come over.
He stepped up to her side and she pushed her earphones back.
"Sir. I just heard a report relayed from one of the batteries near shield generating station number three. They claim they clearly saw a missile penetrate the shield at very high speed. They caught it on vid and are uploading."
"Good work, yeoman. Let's see it."
A flickering image appeared on her screen, with a scale line appearing beneath the missile, showing it to be nearly fifteen meters in length and two meters thick.
It was, by far, the largest weapon he had ever seen launched from a carrier plane. He watched the grainy image as the missile cut right through the shielding and, seconds later, disappear as it impacted in a thermonuclear flash.
"It was making Mach 10 when it penetrated." She hesitated for an instant and then a grin broke out.
"Sir, it's Ark Royal! On translight burst. The signal's close by."
"Where?"
"I'll switch them in now."
Turner looked up at the screen.
"McAuliffe, McAuliffe, this is Ark Royal."
The image of the Ark Royal's captain appeared on the screen and Turner could not help but smile.
"Admiral Dayan, thank God," he cried. "This is Turner, acting commander Concordia. Where the hell are you?"
"Winston? How did you get here?"
"No time now, Naomi. All hell is breaking loose. We're losing the base."
He looked up at the plot screen and saw a blue blip appear, coming in from jump point Delta. Dayan's task force was starting to come into the system but was still hours away.
"You're the one on the scene, what the hell do you want us to do?"
Naomi had served as a visiting professor at the Academy for a year, teaching carrier tactics, and was definitely one of the young Turks of the fleet. He was grateful, as well, that she wasn't pulling rank and was deferring to his on-the-scene view.
"Let me work up a plot, hang on."
Stepping back he scanned the view screens.
"Navigation, work best possible solution for rendezvous with Ark Royal. Communications, upload all data we have so far on this strike to Ark Royal's exec."
"Coral Sea's gone!" he heard someone cry. The screen focused in on the fleet's heaviest carrier. They had managed to break clear of the tower on maneuvering thrusters but the Cats were already on her, several dozen bombers and fighters weaving around the ship, which was bursting apart amidships, explosions racing through the interior, bursting out of the old carriers single launch ramp.
He turned away and looked back to the forward view, which showed the skyhook tower. It was finally beginning to move, a flickering waver as the blow from twenty thousand miles down finally arrived. Dozens of ships were still hard docked to the spiderweb array of ports. Many of them went into emergency disconnect, blowing the explosive bolts that held them to the dying tower. Smaller vessels, which had been able to start their engines up quicker, were darting away, but the heavy ships, which had been drawing power from the tower were helpless, whoever was in command on board frantically trying to maneuver and pull away using only low-energy docking thrusters.
The battleship Belarus, though disconnected, hovered motionless. The tower started to lean over and appeared to slowly brush against the side of the ship. Due to the sheer size of the vessel and tower, it appeared like nothing more than an inconsequential bump, but Turner knew it was a fatal blow with thousands of tons of mass behind it. The battleship started to move under the impact, as if it would simply be brushed aside… then the outer hull ruptured. Seconds later the ship detonated as stored munitions let go. The explosion blossomed out, taking a frigate that was moored higher up on the tower, the frigate detonating in turn. Explosions laced across the skyhook, momentarily blocking out the view of the incoming waves of Kilrathi fighters approaching from the other side.
Turner felt a slight swaying movement and for a second thought that it was a shock wave from the explosions, until he realized that Concordia was under way and starting to accelerate. He held his breath. If they were going to lose a pump from not warming it up properly, it'd be now. The seconds passed and they continued to accelerate.
"Have the solution, sir," the navigation officer cried.
"Upload it to Ark Royal."
"Naomi."
"Here, Winston."
"You're the rally point. Put out a signal to all ships making way."
"What's left down there?"
"Scratch four carriers and most of the fleet, Naomi."
"Got it, Winston."
"Hail to captain of Concordia from Admiral Long," the comm officer interrupted.
"We didn't get that signal," he said calmly.
"Sir?"
"You heard me. We didn't receive that hail."
The radio operator grinned and flicked the channel off.
"If they find out later, you're cooked."
Turner saw Valeri coming up to join him on the bridge.
"Good work on the engines, Val."
"What about Long?"
"You know damn well what he wants, and that's for us to wait until he can come aboard. Val, if we wait, we're dead."
She laughed softly.
"Naomi, I'm having problems receiving Admiral Longs signal," he said, staring back at her screen. "How about you?"
She smiled. "The same problem here, Winston. I'll call you as soon as we get our birds out."
"Just hurry." And then he shut the signal down.
"Val, send a signal in the clear. 'Concordia is under way. All ships to rendezvous on us and proceed to Ark Royal at best possible speed. After that, get the data from weapons analysis and transfer the info on these new missiles to all ships. Maybe we can point defense against them after they're launched. I then want a burst signal out to Banbridge. Update on the battle, all ships' video records, transmissions sent and received. The hell with encoding, send it in the clear."
"In the clear?"
"If the news vids pick it up, that's fine with me," Turner said grimly. "No one's going to cover this shit up any longer. I want the truth out there for a change."
His new exec grinned and went over to the communications desk.
Turner looked back up at the chaos around the skyhook tower. The explosions were rippling away and around the edges of the fireballs he could see that another battleship, Malta, was gone as well.
Two of the battleships, however, were indeed under way, fire erupting from every gun position.
"We've got thirty, at least thirty bogies are veering in on us for an intercept!"
Winston held up the display controller and shifted the holo field in the middle of the room to ship's tactical display. In the center of the field was the image of Concordia. At the far edge of the field was a mass of blue and red lights, showing the spreading battle around the shattered skyhook base. A stream of blinking red lights was veering around the fight and setting up for a head-on attack.
Turner nodded and clicked the mike which he had attached to his collar.
"This is Turner. Launch all fighters, repeat launch all fighters. We have thirty plus incoming."
Prince Ratha let out a triumphal cry as the fleeing carrier came into view on the far side of the explosions tearing through the orbital base. For a moment he had feared that everything would be destroyed, leaving nothing for him to sink his talons into.
"This is Ratha!" he announced, ignoring code names. If the enemy should find out who would soon destroy them, so much the better so they could curse his name when they went to their underworld.
"I will lead the attack, form on me!"
Geoff watched, wide-eyed, as a fighter roared down the launch ramp and kicked through the airlock. Peacetime procedures were gone, and afterburners ignited as soon as it was on the far side of the shield.
He was startled by the jerk of the tractor hooked to his nosewheel, which pulled him out onto the ramp, putting him second in line, directly behind Vance. The tractor disconnected and darted to one side. The deck launch officer in front of Vance's fighter jumped aside, going down on one knee with left arm pointed towards the airlock.
The backwash from Vance's fighter rattled Geofl's ship as it raced down the ramp and slammed through the airlock.
"Tolwyn, you're next," a voice whispered in his headset.
"Tolwyn ready."
The confidence he had tried to instill in himself while waiting to launch was on the point of evaporating. It was truly his first time in a Wildcat. The simulator might provide a trainee with almost all the sensations, but no matter how realistic, there was always that realization that when the holo field blazed white, then snapped off, all one had to do was hit the reset button… but in real life there was no reset button.
He remembered to do a quick scan of his instruments, though at this point nothing short of a full engine shutdown would stop the launch. If there was a critical malfunction in any other system he was expected to launch anyhow, then get the hell out of the way and wait to die.
"Tolwyn… five, four…"
The launch officer in front of his plane darted to the left, dropped down on one knee and pointed forward.
"Launch!"
Geoff pushed the throttle up to fifty percent and, with inertial dampening cut off because he was still inside Concordias field, he felt the surge slamming him back into his seat. The star fields outside the airlock began to shift rapidly, and he had a moment of disorientation until he realized that the carrier was making a rapid turn. He felt a slight resistance as the fighter went through the airlock.
"Tolwyn clear!"
&nb
sp; He instantly slammed the throttles forward, hit the afterburner switch, and popped out the maneuvering scoops, while at the same time pulling the stick back and to the right. The inertial dampening kicked in, the pressure on his spine easing off. He heard a beep in his headset, signaling that he had a clean connection back to Concordia's Combat Information Center, and that the center was downloading the updated data regarding the fight. His terminal screen lit up, working off the CIC data so that he did not have to light himself up by using his own radar.
"Tolwyn, form on my right!" It was Vance.
Anxiously he looked around. Where the hell was he? He felt as if all his senses were overloading. McAuliffe was in the background, and he could distinctly see the glow of explosions and smoke down on the planet's surface. A broken, jagged line extended up from the planet's surface-the skyhook tower, which was continuing to collapse, the force of gravity inexorably ripping it apart. Where the orbital base had been was now an apocalyptic nightmare of explosions.
"Tolwyn, form on my right!" It was Vance, but where the hell was he?
"Tolwyn set IFF transponder to 1144 now!"
Geoff punched in the numbers and a flashing blue light appeared on his screen-bearing 275, negative 60. He banked over and looked to the left, catching sight of a Wildcat down below.
"Form, Tolwyn, form, we're going in!"
Geoff tried to jockey the fighter in on Vance's right wing, and just when he thought he had it, Vance pulled his nose up.
"Stick to me like glue, damn it, if you want to live!"
Geoff yanked back on his stick, overcompensated and nearly went into a loop. He slammed the stick forward, overcompensated yet again, then finally leveled back out.
"Green squadron," Vance announced, "Going for the bombers… full throttle, three, two, one, go!"
Vance's fighter leaped forward and Geoff remembered that he had to cover Vance. It required that he keep one on the leader, while at the same time doing a constant scan, both visually and from the instruments, for anyone trying to intercept.
"I will block their fighters. Bombers, prepare to attack!" Ratha cried.
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