Keyes grunted. “And yet the moon does create a narrow tunnel of space in which we can operate safely, does it not?”
“I suppose so, sir. We can move toward the moon or away from it.”
“Let’s try away. We fared best with the Roostships all on one side of us, not arrayed around us like this. Accelerate away from the moon, keeping a careful eye on the sensors to make sure we don’t offer any orbital platforms a firing solution on us.”
“They’ve anticipated that, sir,” his sensor operator spoke up. “Two Roostships are deployed to answer any escape attempt we might make in that direction.”
“This is the Providence you’re in, Ensign Werner. We’re not afraid of a couple of flying Winger nests.” Normally he steered clear of such bombast, sticking only to delivering orders with as much clarity and dignity as he knew how. But the battle was taking a toll on his CIC crew. He needed to see brows clear and shoulders rigid, not slumped. “Look alive, everyone. Tactical, by now we should have enough charge to swat those Talons, do we not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s shoo them away, then. In the meantime, get me a report from Engineering on whether they’re finished work on the surprises we’ve prepared for our winged friends.” The last-minute alliance with Blackwing had proved useful in more ways than one. A conversation he’d had with the stealth ship’s engineer yielded two spare cold-gas thrusters and an idea.
“Chief Engineer Victor says the stealth missiles have been outfitted with the new thrusters and painted black. They’re ready for programming, though Commander Victor cautions that their flight time will run about four times longer than our Banshees with traditional propulsion.”
“Nav, calculate two trajectories, one for each Roostships attempting to block our path, and send them to Engineering for downloading to that pair of missiles. In the meantime, Arsenyev, I want you to focus all offensive fire on the three enemy ships between us and the moon.”
“Yes, sir,” his Tactical and Nav officers said in unison.
The secondary lasers succeeded in driving the two Talon squadrons away, even managing to take out one of the fighters. That buys us some time.
His crew worked fast, and inside of six minutes the missiles were ready for deployment.
“Fire,” Keyes said.
“Missiles away, sir,” Arsenyev said.
“Very good. Now prep two more barrages, five Banshees each, which I want to arrive at the Roostships simultaneous to our slower stealth missiles.”
That took less time, since Nav had already calculated the course.
“Missiles ready, sir,” Arsenyev said. “If we fire them now, they should arrive at the same time as our stealth missiles.”
“Fire. Werner, bring up a splitscreen visual of both Roostships.” The screen switched views accordingly, and they waited.
The same Talons they’d chased off with their secondary lasers were called back to the Roostships to aid with dispatching the incoming warheads. The last of the regular Banshees was exploded harmlessly a mere three-thousand kilometers from one of the enemy ships.
Keyes cleared his throat. “Are we still getting a signal from our new toys?”
Arsenyev nodded. “They haven’t been spotted, Captain.”
As soon as she stopped speaking, twin explosions blossomed, one on each Roostship. Cheers erupted throughout the CIC, but Keyes held up his hand. “Quiet! I have more orders.”
They fell silent immediately. “Helm, bring us about to face those Roostships and engage all engines at one hundred percent. Tactical, stand ready on my mark to use our acceleration to propel kinetic bursts into the holes we made in their ships. I want the splitscreen view maintained, Ensign Werner, but everyone keep a close eye on your console’s tactical display.”
There was no tactical advantage in continuing to watch the Roostships on visual, but if his plan succeeded, it would do wonders for morale.
They sped away from the moon, and the enemy warships grew larger on the viewscreen. Both launched missiles at the Providence as she approached, but between his point defense and their incredible acceleration, he didn’t consider them much of a danger.
Arsenyev stood rigid at her console, glancing from Keyes to the viewscreen and back again. But she didn’t question his timing. Not at a moment like this. She’ll make a fine XO.
“Fire,” he said, and the ship vibrated as the main railguns spat ordnance at high speeds.
Both Roostships erupted in flame that was quickly quenched by the vacuum of space.
This time, Keyes did nothing to silence the cheering. He joined their celebrating in his own way, by squeezing his fists and allowing himself a slight smile.
His sensor operator was not smiling.
“What is it, Werner?”
The man’s eyes locked on to Keyes’s own.
“A Gok warship has arrived, sir.”
“What kind of warship?”
“I…I believe it’s a carrier, Captain. It’s launching fighters.”
But Gok don’t have fighters.
And yet a glance at his console’s tactical display confirmed otherwise.
Chapter 70
Toast
“Uhh…Fesky?”
“What do we do now, Madcap?”
“I don’t know how to engage Gok fighters. We were never briefed on this.”
The voices of her pilots filled her helmet, one after another, several of them overlapping. They sounded afraid and confused. She needed to reassert control.
“Calm down,” she said over the channel that went out to all Condor squadrons. “You’re Providence pilots, not a bunch of rookies fresh from the simulators. The birds you’re flying were built for versatility. For responding to new threats. Believe in your machine and you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but what do we do?” Bradley’s voice squeaked near the end of his sentence, making him sound a lot less self-assured than he had during their confrontation on Hangar Deck H.
Fesky had to delay her answer while she focused on the lone Talon that her tactical display showed as coming up on what was currently her six. She rotated, turning her six into her twelve, and blasted the thing apart.
“We outmaneuver them,” she continued, speaking quickly. “This is the first time Gok fighters have ever been deployed, that we know of, meaning they definitely are rookies. Given they’re Gok, I’m betting their fighter design sacrifices maneuverability and propulsion for weaponry, so they’ll likely pack a punch. And we can expect them to fly aggressively, committing to engagements more than another pilot would. Any questions?”
If there were, she had no time to answer them. A half-squadron of Talons screamed toward her and Voodoo, accompanied by six Gok fighters in no particular formation.
“We need to recruit some squadronmates or we’re toast,” Voodoo remarked, his voice as level as ever.
“Yes. And every other Condor pilot’s in the exact same situation.”
Chapter 71
Breach
Husher ducked beneath the barricade just in time to avoid a round of rifle fire to the face.
“Easy, sir,” Davies said beside him. “If we push forward too fast, they’ll pick us apart. We need to take our time and choose our engagements wisely.”
“We don’t have time,” he snapped, and instantly felt ashamed of letting his temper go. I’m getting as bad as Keyes. “Sorry. It’s just…I keep expecting to see a Talon overhead any minute.”
He shifted against the barricade, which was sloped and not very well suited to providing cover. At least, not from this side. The opposite side would be perfectly vertical and smooth, just like the others they’d passed, all of which had been built to defend the platform from an incursion. Not to attack it.
“I’m just grateful we haven’t run into any Gok yet,” Davies said. “They’d be a nightmare to fight.”
With a grunt, Husher activated his suit’s transponder. “Wahlburg, talk to me.”
“Sure thing, First
Lieutenant. What would you like to talk about?”
“Now isn’t the time for your idea of humor, Wahlburg. Tell me what you see.”
The sniper had managed to secure a barricade at a higher vantage point, up a couple sets of stairs from the platform’s main level. “I see only death, the way you’re facing. Surely I don’t have to tell you it’s a bad idea to try attacking an open plane crisscrossed by lanes of fire.”
“Do you have an alternative?”
“I do. There’s a narrow corridor we can access if we backtrack a bit, but we’d need to go down it single-file, and it’s suspiciously devoid of defenders. Smells like a trap to me.”
Rolling over on the sloped barricade, Husher stared for a moment at the stars hanging over the platform. When was the last time I saw a star actually twinkle? He wished one of them would now, but the planet’s atmosphere didn’t extend this far.
A couple minutes before reaching their current position, they’d come across what was clearly a hatch, but one that only opened from the inside. He’d deemed it too risky to use the satchel charges they’d brought with them to blow it open—they seemed too powerful for the job. Now it seemed like the safest of his options.
He activated his transponder. “Sergeant Caine, how are things on your end?”
“Quiet,” came the immediate reply. “There’s been nothing since you left. It’s kind of freaking me out, to be honest.”
“I doubt you’d prefer what we’re facing.” Then again, she probably would. “I have a problem. I want to blow open a hatch, but the satchel charges I have contain too much C4. They’ll likely cause excessive structural damage.”
“I can improvise a smaller one using a machine gun bandoleer inside five minutes. How big do you want the boom to be, relative to the satchel charges we brought?”
“About half should do.”
“No problem.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll make my way to the spot I’ll need them at and then send you my location for your marine to find.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to Davies. “Corporal, I need you to hold here until my mark, at which point I want you to fall back to my position.”
“Can do, sir.”
“I’ll need you to provide suppressive fire while I fall back.”
“Now, sir?”
“Now.”
Davies popped above the barricade, the sound of her assault rifle making its way to Husher’s ears, though his helmet muted it. As he made his way from the battlefield, a young marine named Holloway sprang up to join Davies in firing on the enemy. The only difference was, he stood utterly exposed.
“Holloway, get down!”
Too late. A boom rang out that sounded loud even inside Husher’s helmet, and a gaping hole appeared in Holloway’s faceplate, with blood spattering what remained of it. The young marine fell backward onto the platform’s metal surface.
Damn it. Though he hated to leave Holloway’s body, there was no time to retrieve it. Husher dashed back the way he’d come, running from barricade to barricade while Davies, Wahlburg, and the others kept the Wingers at bay.
At last, he turned a corner that blocked him from the battlefield, though he didn’t consider that a reason to relax. As he ran back to the hatch, he monitored every possible avenue of attack.
Caine was true to her word, and it wasn’t long before the marine joined him. Husher wasted no time in directing him where to position the explosive.
“Okay, sir,” the marine said. “It’s on a twenty-second fuse. Is there any cover twenty seconds that way? Between here and the stealth ship, there’s barely any.”
“If we run. Start the timer, Private.”
Husher and the marine dashed back toward where Davies and Wahlburg were fighting the Wingers, stopping once they’d rounded a corner. They huddled against the wall, and a few seconds later an explosion rumbled through the metal underneath their feet.
“Perfect,” Husher said when he went back to gaze through the breach at what looked like an office beneath the platform’s surface. It would be connected to others. “With any luck, this will lead us closer to the central reactor. There has to be an emergency exit that comes out somewhere near that. Good work, Private. Get back to Sergeant Caine.”
The marine saluted and then jogged back toward the stealth ship.
Husher activated his transponder once again. “Davies. Wahlburg. Take the others and fall back. I’ve found us a third option.”
Chapter 72
Kamikaze
Fesky’s heart pounded as she realized the Gok fighter barreling toward her had no intention of breaking away. Instead it kept its weapons pointed toward her Condor, guns blazing, and maintained its course.
At the last minute, she angled her nose upward and gunned her engines, missing the Gok by what must have been no more than a meter.
She activated her transponder while rotating her guns to get a firing solution on the receding enemy fighter. “Attention all pilots—the Gok have gone full kamikaze. One of them just tried to collide with me.”
“One of them just took out Crank,” Voodoo said. “I don’t think the thing even bothered to eject before they collided.”
The Gok have always been reckless, but never suicidal. What’s driving them to this? Whatever it was, the strategy itself actually seemed pretty sound. Given the enemy’s overwhelming numbers, attrition could lead to a swift victory for them.
If we let it.
Fesky rotated her fighter along its short axis, lining up to perform an engine burn toward a nearby cluster of Winger and Gok fighters.
“Madcap!” Voodoo said from where she’d left him, somewhere behind and to her right. “What are you doing?”
“The Gok are slow and unskilled,” she said over the fleetwide, leaving it at that. As she squeezed every last drop of acceleration from her Condor’s engines, she tried not to dwell on how quickly the enemy Talons reoriented themselves to get a firing solution on her.
I’m moving too fast for them, she told herself. They won’t have time to calculate a proper trajectory.
That didn’t stop the enemy pilots from firing without computer assistance, and they did that. She returned fire in kind.
Then she was among the enemy fighters, and as planned, her course took her amidst the Gok fighters, blocking most of the Talons from taking a shot. Fesky halted her engine burn, quickly identified one of the few Talons with a viable firing lane, and took it out with a well-placed Sidewinder.
In the meantime, all five Gok ships veered toward her, clearly excited by her proximity and ready to pounce.
Flipping her Condor around, she performed an engine burn at an angle that took her near one of the Talons as she exited the cluster of fighters.
Success. One of the pursuing Gok fighters collided with the Talon, causing them both to explode. Her tactical display told her neither pilot had ejected in time.
Cheers from her fellow Condor pilots filled her ears as she trained her guns on one of the pursuing Goks. This target didn’t explode, but neither did it change course again. She’d killed the pilot.
“They’re novices,” she squawked over the fleetwide. “Use their recklessness against them.”
The rest of the enemy fighter cluster were reorienting themselves, with the Talons spreading out to keep their distance from the clumsy Goks. Then the entire formation moved to pursue her.
“Voodoo,” she said over their two-way channel. “I need you.”
“I’m on it.”
Chapter 73
On My Mark
“The Gok carrier has expelled all of its fighters, sir,” his sensor operator said. “It’s coming around to engage.”
Keyes squinted at the icon on the tactical display that represented the Gok warship. “What does it have in the way of firepower?”
Werner stood hunched over his console, neglecting his chair for the moment, as well as the straps that dangled from its back. “Uh…some point defense turrets
…a primary railgun, though it looks fairly small. Other than that, just some smaller railguns for executing broadsides.”
An itch sprouted on Keyes’s nose, but he denied himself the pleasure of scratching it, his full attention on the CIC’s main viewscreen. “I don’t see how they can possibly hope to engage a ship with the Providence’s complement of artillery. What are the remaining Roostships doing? Do the Gok hope to distract us while the others pounce?”
The sensor operator shook his head. “No, sir. They’re hanging back.” He blinked at his console’s display. “The Gok ship is coming at us fast.”
A flicker of movement caught Keyes’s eye, and he glanced to his left in time to see Ek rise from her seat. “Captain, I suggest acquiring a visual on the Gok warship. Specifically a magnification of her nose.”
“All right. Do it, Ensign Werner.”
The main viewscreen showed a closeup of the Gok warship, which looked like someone had melted down several larger ships and combined them in an enormous, poorly crafted mold.
Keyes nearly gasped. “It has a nose designed for collision. Just like their destroyers.”
“Indeed,” Ek said. “And it is pointed at our starboard bow.”
“Helm, prepare to execute a full retro thrust on my mark.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Everyone strap in, and alert the crew to brace for possible impact. Coms, put me through to Fesky.”
“It’s done, sir.”
“Fesky, can you spare a squadron of Condors for a pass on that carrier?”
The Winger’s voice sounded even more strained than usual. “In short, no, I can’t, Captain.”
Keyes squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. “Understood. Carry on, Fesky. Arsenyev, unleash a steady barrage of solid-core ordnance at the approaching ship. I don’t want them to know we’ve anticipated their intent. Ek,” he said, twisting to face the Fin, who was strapping herself back into her seat. “How did you know they’d try a kamikaze run?”
Supercarrier: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 1 Page 22