Admiral's War Part One

by Wachter, Luke Sky

  “Both her port and starboard shields are down and she’s streaming gases from multiple gashes in her hull. It’s only a matter of time until we bring her down, Sir,” said Captain Prentice Major.

  “We are certain that it’s their Flagship?” Tolwin asked harshly.

  “Without a doubt, Sir,” Junior Captain Prentice Major said with certainty, “even as tough a nut as they are turning out to be, we’ll crack that Battleship open before they clear engagement range.”

  “Make it happen, Captain, and pass the order to the rest of the fleet. No one insults our fleet, our leader, and the Empire of Man as the leader of this Sector’s ‘Grand Fleet’ has done and lives to brag about it. Not on my watch. I have orders to destroy the enemy from the High Admiral himself and I fully intend to carry those orders out,” Tolwin said harshly.

  “Without a doubt, Front Admiral,” said Captain Major.

  Front Admiral Tolwin nodded firmly.

  “Enemy movement detected!” reported Tactical.

  Admiral Tolwin’s head snapped back around to look.

  Next to the imperiled enemy flagship, another Battleship of the same provincial make and model smoothly interposed itself between the flagship and Tolwin’s own Task Force 4, taking most of the fire intended for its sister.

  “Shields are falling rapidly on the second enemy battleship,” reported Tactical, “now they’re starting to roll. We’re still able to get in a few shots on their flagship but the to-hit ratios is falling rapidly, Sir.”

  “Keep firing—and bring me that Battleship!” said Tolwin referring to the enemy flagship.

  “Scans of the second provincial Battleship indicate that while they appear to be of the same class, their hull composition is different. Their flagship is giving off some very unusual readings, but whatever protective armor coating they’re using has only been applied in a few areas on the new Battleship,” said Sensors.

  “Scan the remainder of the enemy Battleships,” instructed Prentice Major. “We need to know if there are more of the enemy warships with hulls like their flagship. If they’re all this tough to penetrate, we might need to change strategies.”

  “No!” snapped the Admiral. “Continue the scans, by all means, and send a copy of your report up the chain of command. But we will not need to change strategy in the face of these bumpkins. Not now. Not yet. We stick to the plan.”

  “Aye, Sir,” said the Junior Captain and the Sensor Officer.

  “Second enemy Battleship is taking hull damage, Admiral,” Tactical reported with satisfaction.

  The Front Admiral started to smile, but the expression withered as yet a third enemy Battleship smoothly moved out in front of the beleaguered flagship to interpose itself between his fleet and the provincial Grand Fleet flagship.

  “Flaming atoms,” cursed Tolwin as it became apparent that his fleet wasn’t going to be able to finish off the enemy flagship with only one pass. “It seems the provincials of this Sector aren’t quite as incompetent as the rest of their ilk.”

  “It could just be the core squadron of their leader, this Vice Admiral Montagne, Sir,” Captain Prentice Major pointed out respectfully. “None of the other squadrons in this Grand Fleet has shown much skill to date. Half their fleet is in total disarray and about to be crushed and swept away by Task Force 2.”

  “You’re probably right. The High Admiral wants his head…which means I want his head, Captain. Which, by itself, ought to be enough but when you throw in what this infernal Montagne did to our brothers in the third Task Force, it means that I don’t just find myself in total agreement with the High Admiral. I actively want him captured or killed,” Front Admiral Tolwin growled, “pass the word, Captain. Seven days of continuous shore leave for the gun deck that brings down that Battleship.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral!” said the Junior Captain enthusiastically.

  Glowering at the image of the moderately damaged enemy flagship—which should have already been turned into a rapidly expanding cloud of debris—he silently tipped his hat.

  The opponent had barely managed to avoid the first round of this sudden death, overtime smashball match. But he wouldn’t escape a second time.

  “Aim for the engines as we pass, Tactical. I want to cripple as many of these provincial dogs as we can on our first pass. It’ll only make things easier as we continue,” ordered Admiral Tolwin.

  “Will do, Admiral,” said the Junior Captain.

  Chapter Forty-five: Under Duress

  “Signal from Sub-Formation 2! It’s Admiral Silverback and he’s desperately requesting we come support him while his ships attempt to return to formation, Sir,” reported Lieutenant Steiner.

  Behind us, the Aegis Admiral and his formation was in dire straits. Divided and outside of easy support range for one another, his now numerically inferior force was having a rough go of it. I could see why he wanted our help. Unfortunately, E-Force 3 was already more than a match for us and, frankly, I was more concerned with Commodore Kling’s Corvettes.

  Silverback wasn’t going anywhere, but those Corvettes just might be able to pull away and disengage if given half a chance.

  I pulled up a plot and tried to figure out if there was anything I could do to help the man—not Silverback, but Kling.

  “Hart’s Heart is reporting their shields falling to dangerous levels, Admiral,” reported one of Steiner’s com-techs. We were starting to get too many messages for help, assistance or reports of near destruction for the Lieutenant to handle it all herself, “She says she’s going to have to withdraw before too much longer or she’ll risk being crippled.”

  I had to bite back an irritable order telling the Hart’s Worlders to hold in place until ordered otherwise—i.e. as soon as I figured something else out. But I didn’t. That would not only have been unfair but incredibly dangerous.

  Looking at the screen and hearing the literal litany of destruction and cries for help, I could all but feel the Grand Fleet shaking around about me like a crackling leaf on a violent wind. The slightest puff could cause everything to fall apart. Not for the first time I cursed myself for giving into the urgings of fools like Silverback and launching this ill-conceived expedition. We’d come to crush the enemy, but the only crushing that was going to be done today was about to be done to us.

  “New message to Hart’s Heart,” I said, clenching my jaw even as I silently swore that this fleet wasn’t about to go down so easily. “Vice Admiral’s compliments on a job very well done; they are to hold position for another thirty seconds before rotating out. After that they are to immediately place their ship behind Admiral Dark Matter’s squadron for as much protection as he can offer them while they recharge their shields.”

  “Relaying now, Admiral Montagne,” said the com-tech.

  “I honestly thought we were finished there for a minute,” Hammer said to me on a private channel.

  “What’s the status on our shields, Junior Lieutenant?” I demanded, ignoring the Flag Captain for the moment.

  “The port’s at 35% but because of the overload starboard took longer to reboot and we’re only up to 22%, Admiral,” Longbottom said crisply.

  “Do better,” I said shortly.

  The Junior Lieutenant stiffened and nodded seriously. “Yes, Sir,” he said needlessly, but I’d already turned back to Captain Hammer.

  “I didn’t think those Hart Worlders had that kind of ship handling in them,” I said in tacit agreement with her previous statement. I, too, had thought we were about to be neutralized—if not destroyed outright. “What’s the status of the Armor Prince?” I asked. We were almost to knife range with the E-Force 3, and I was seriously wishing I still had those droid Motherships with me. A few antimatter-pumped lasers right down the throat, or used as shield busters on their broadsides, would have been just about perfect right now.

  “The Prince is in just about the same condition as we are, Admiral. They’re trying to cycle them back in during the close pass…I don’t think it’s th
e wisest course of action,” she said seriously.

  I gnawed on my lip. Normally I’d disagree with her, or at least take umbrage at telling me she didn’t think something I was contemplating doing was ‘wise.’ But in this specific instance, from the sound of things, it was probably the right call.

  “Alright then,” I agreed, instead of the half a dozen other answers I’d have rather put out there, “inform Dark Matter it’s time he started taking his fair share of the action. We’re moving behind his formation, along with Hart’s Heart. Then send a message to the Armor Prince to join us. It’s time to see what the ships of Blackwood and Epsilon Tarantula are capable of.”

  “You heard the man, Mr. DuPont. Helm is to maneuver us behind Sub-2’s Battleship squadron. Time to share some of the fun with our friends,” instructed Captain Hammer.

  “On it, Captain,” DuPont said with a tight professional nod and began to smoothly maneuver the Royal Rage into position.

  The ship shuddered.

  “Penetration on deck 6,” reported Damage Control Watch Stander Blythe, “looks like they damaged hydroponics with that shot.”

  I winced, remembering my time on the Little Gift facing off against a bug invasion force. Those ravenous, insectoid aliens had hammered the Heavy Cruiser and its food production facilities to the point we were down to hard ration bars and water. The food had been so awful that, at certain points, I could understand it if some members of the crew would have preferred to…well, enough maudlin thoughts.

  “Here they come!” exclaimed Hart.

  This time, I carefully strapped myself back into my Throne before saying anything. “Message to the Fleet: hit them as hard as you can while they pass, but be mindful of your shields and engines and we’ll get through this. Today might not be our best day, but by Murphy they’ll feel it before we’re done with them. That’ll be all. Admiral Montagne, out,” I said.

  Jaws tightened and people checked their chair straps.

  Then the enemy was on us, and they began to turn so as to hit us as they passed by at an angle. Lasers slashed at our ship in spite of the friendly, interdictory battleships. Longbottom began the depressing litany of spotting and near failing shields.

  “Pivot the ship to protect our engines, Helmsman!” cried Hammer right before one of the enemy Battleships flashed into view through a gap in the coverage of Dark Matter’s Battleships, causing what seemed to be an entire enemy broadside to slam into our depleted shields.

  There was a crash and emergency alarms started to flash. Instead of our lights flickering into a low power state, if anything the lighting seemed to flare brighter than ever—one of our light emitters even exploded in a shower of sparks, raining burning particles directly onto the face of one of the bridge’s yeomen.

  Clawing at her eyes while screaming in agony, her painful cries were cut mercifully short via the use of a medical first aid kit applied by one of the bridge’s Lancer defense quad. If the use of the med kit was preceded by a liberal application of a sharp right jab to the chin, neither I—nor anyone else on the flag bridge—was about to complain.

  Then the enemy Battleships were past us and E-Force 3 began desperately burning their engines in an attempt to swing around for another pass as quickly as humanly possible.

  Chapter Forty-six: Imperial Frustration

  “Of all the short-luck,” Front Admiral Tolwin grunted unhappily, “they made it. They hid like cowards behind their companions but they survived.” And, unfortunately, that was all that mattered.

  “The Indefatigable hammered them on the way past, sir,” Prentice Major pointed out. “Besides, one man’s cowardice is another’s genius. In the end they didn’t run and they survived the exchange. That’s all that really matters.”

  “How true,” he said before heaving a sigh. “I’m afraid the High Admiral isn’t going to be pleased, but there’s nothing for it now. Bring the Task Force around for another pass. Hopefully Task Force 2 can finish off their side of things and we can put the Provincial’s main force in between us for a pincer attack. Even if we can’t, we’ve got the legs to catch them for another pass.”

  “Yes sir,” Prentice said relaying the orders before turning back, “I will say, sir, that whatever we’re calling ourselves today, we are not just the lackeys of some hick warlord. We are proud members of the Imperial Service. However displeased he might be, the High Admiral will understand there was nothing more to be done.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” said Tolwin with a grimace. He then turned to his engineering watch stander, “Tell the Chief Engineer I want 110% out of the engines until we can close with the hicks and finish what we started.” The watch stander nodded and relayed the order.

  Unless the enemy commander came up with something truly original, he was about to be taught a sharp lesson in the difference between bumpkin militia and Imperial naval personnel.

  Tolwin could only hope his enemy lived long enough to realize the lesson before he died.

  Chapter Forty-seven: Fusion Trouble

  “Captain, this is the Chief Engineer,” said Senior Lieutenant Wave Grinder, his priority override reaching the Captain and myself—via my constant connection with the battle bridge.

  Sure, sure—some would say I was paranoid to be monitoring com traffic between my flagship’s senior officers. I called it just plain good sense, and was grateful I’d taken the time to have Lieutenant Steiner walk me through the routines I had wanted after setting them up. There would be no open conspiracies on the bridge while I was in command—or, more precisely, no more of them.

  “What have you got, Chief?” Hammer asked, any irritation she might have felt suppressed in the face of whatever emergency the Chief Engineer was reporting on.

  “That last pass hit us harder than expected. We had a power surge that damaged our port side power distribution system; we rerouted through the mirror system to starboard and I thought we had it locked down, but it looks like the damage was worse than we thought,” he reported.

  “Am I about to lose my power distribution, Chief Engineer?” Hammer asked strictly.

  “I wish it was only that. I’m pretty sure we can run on the starboard network until we can repair the port side trunk lines. That’s not the problem. It’s Fusion 4,” he said angrily. “Blast this old outdated equipment! Fusion 4 is fluctuating and I’m afraid if this keeps up we’ll have to eject the power core.”

  Hammer scowled.

  “All but two of the fusion generators on this ship are brand new,” I cut into the channel, determined to hold up the pride of the Dreadnaught class that had taken me so far in this galaxy gone mad.

  “That may be, but in this case it’s one of the old generators that’s acting up,” Wave Grinder said irritably. “We’re going to do what we can, but I wanted to give you a heads-up…Captain.” He said, looking at me sidelong while finishing his report.

  I let a hint of a smirk grace the corners of my mouth. If the Chief Engineer wanted to play games, that was fine with me. I didn’t particularly appreciate it, or have the time during the middle of a major engagement, but I was always up for the challenge. I’d dealt with more mutinous men—and more than a few that were twice as cunning—as the current Chief Engineer and I was still standing—and in command.

  “Keep me apprised, Chief Engineer,” Hammer said firmly.

  “Yes, do let us know before it comes to the point you have to go into the fusion generator to make repairs,” I said.

  Hammer looked surprised and Wave Grinder looked at me like I was insane.

  “We do have the automated repair suits built by Commander Spalding onboard…do we not?” I asked with the lift of a brow.

  Hammer opened her mouth and then closed it, shaking her head.

  “The problem in this case isn’t with the core itself, but with the monitoring and regulating systems,” Wave Grinder explained patiently, as if to someone slow on the uptake. “And it doesn’t seem to be a software corruption issue either. The problem
seems to be with the hardware. We’re replacing what we can but with the monitoring system compromised and our ability to properly regulate the core on the fritz…”

  “Can you shut her down?” I asked.

  “What do you think I’ve been trying—” he started in a rising voice and then visibly restrained himself. “I apologize, Vice Admiral. This is a big problem and I need to get back to it as soon as possible. I’ll just say that, yes, we’ve been trying to shut it down. But with the hardware compromised—probably by the same surge you reported here on the bridge—I don’t entirely trust the automated shut down procedure. If we can, we’re going to shut it down and overhaul the generator but I don’t want to risk destroying this ship from a runaway generator failure. Better to eject if it we can’t regain manual control.”

  “It sounds like either way, for the purposes of this battle, we’re going to lose Fusion 4, Chief,” Hammer said with a frown.

  “That’s right,” said Wave Grinder.

  “Then do your best and report back once you have it figured out,” said Hammer.

  I shook my head, wondering if I would have had the same problem if I hadn’t left Spalding behind at Gambit to get the rest of our limping warships back up to speed.

  “Engineering, out,” said the Chief Engineer.

  “The Demon strikes again,” I muttered.

  “I have every confidence in this ship’s Chief Engineer. If there’s a way to fix this and save Fusion 4, he’ll find it,” said Hammer seriously.

  “I’m sure he will,” I temporized, flashing a pro-forma smile I wasn’t really feeling. Making Wave Grinder’s competence an item up for discussion wouldn’t help anything. It was time to dance with the one that brought us to the party and get back to the business of saving this fleet.

  Giving myself a shake, I looked back at the main screen but didn’t see anything that was magically going to fix this disaster—a disaster which I had brought the Grand Fleet into.