“Heart of Mist is requesting permission to attach itself to the main fleet while the Lack of Hunger says their engines are damaged and they need a tow,” reported Steiner on the two nearby Destroyers.
“The Hunger is just going to have to stay hungry. We don’t have the time to stop for them,” I said, feeling as if my own words were a knife to the gut. For a moment, I almost hesitated from staying that particular course, then I firmed my resolve, “That said, if one of our Destroyers wants to volunteer—and by that I mean one and only one—then they can drop out of formation and apply tow cables. But that’s as much as we can spare for them.”
I may have been turned hard by the sequence of recent events, but I wasn’t entirely heartless…at least, not yet.
“I’m putting out the call along with your requirements, Sir,” Lieutenant Steiner said seriously.
I opened my mouth to deny that I was putting out a call for anyone, but then I closed it with a click. In point of fact, I was, even though I was against the idea in principle. I’d sure hate to be left behind because it was inconvenient if I was in that Destroyer’s shoes.
“Shall I relay a rendezvous point, Sir?” Steiner asked, and for a moment I was puzzled.
“As I can’t say exactly where we’ll wind up shooting for, relaying anything to them would be premature, Lieutenant,” I said mostly truthfully. The fact was that I did have an idea of where I wanted to go, but it was more a few general notions that were subject to change at a moment’s notice depending on the facts on the ground at the time it came to make the call. Moreover, I certainly wasn’t going to go about broadcasting this fleet’s moves to anyone or anything beforehand.
“Understood,” she acknowledged.
“I’ve got another group on the scanners. Whoa!” exclaimed Hart with rising excitement. “It looks like one of our Battleships, worse for the wear, and a trio of enemy Battleships!”
“Any sign of the main enemy force? Are they hiding just outside of sensor range?” I demanded, adding that last part like a moron, since if they were outside of our sensor range then how could we possibly pick them up? But I was too caught up in the moment to worry. This looked like exactly what I’d hoped for.
“No sign of the main fleet. They may very well have scattered to chase our people, like Admiral Silverback, wanted to do to theirs. But we’ll keep looking, Admiral,” Lieutenant Hart said, his hunter’s eyes continuing to look back down at his tactical console even as he reported.
I hesitated for just an instant. This was a moment of truth. If their main force was still consolidated in there, we were about to get mugged. But if they really had split up then we were the ones about to do the mugging. In short, it was time to declare the move or get off the pot.
“Saint Murphy’s with us, boys,” I declared, bolting out of my chair with a sudden and abrupt certainty. I was either right or we were dead and, like a gambler with a junk hand and a good feeling betting against the house, I decided to go all in. “We’re going to head in and hit them by squadrons. Line us up and take us in. Battleships, then Cruisers and Battleships, then Cruisers with the Destroyers of both formations are to divert around to the other side of this battle and extend our sensor coverage while staying out of range of those Reclamation Battleships. I want those foreigners to get a taste of their own medicine for once. This is the Spine, and it’s time we dished it back to them—double strength!”
“Sending out the signal to Sub-1 now, Sir,” said Lieutenant Steiner.
“The Rage is ready to go, Sir,” Hammer added.
“Assign targeting orders, Mr. Hart!” I instructed, “I don’t want us flailing around in the dark. Make them hurt.”
“Yes, Sir!” said the Tactical Officer.
“Admiral Montagne! I’ve got Rear Admiral Dark Matter on the line. He says he wants to consult,” reported Steiner, sounding harried.
“Put him on,” I said.
“Now, Sir,” said Steiner with a nod to me before turning back to her duties.
“Montagne here,” I said to the image that appeared on my screen.
“Where do you want my formation?” Dark Matter asked, looking at me steadily.
“Move your Destroyers around the starboard side; I’ll be sending mine off to port. After that I want your Battleship squadron to follow our Cruisers in and finally hit them with your Cruiser squadrons as they fly past. That should take a lot of the starch out of those Reclamation blighters,” I informed him.
“Not a problem,” Dark Matter said with a decisive nod, “however, my Battleships have taken less damage than yours have. It’s just a suggestion, but why don’t you let us go in first and soften them up for your ships to swing by and give out the kudegra?”
“Kudegra?” I asked confused about the term.
“Finishing blow, boy—I mean, Admiral,” Dark Matter said.
“Makes sense,” I said after a few seconds of contemplation and realizing his peculiar enunciation of the phrase ‘coup de grace’ had been the cause of my confusion, “make it so, Rear Admiral. Let’s go save our comrades.”
“Every battleship we add back into the main force helps us and hurts them. You won’t regret this, Vice Admiral,” Dark Matter said seriously.
“I didn’t think I would, or you wouldn’t be going in first. Just don’t foul this thing up,” I said frankly.
“Alright, you heard the man. 1st squadron to the lead with 2nd and 3rd to follow cl—” Dark Matter barked out orders as he turned away and the com-channel cut out mid-transmission.
I wasn’t sure if this was the wisest thing to be doing, but sending Dark Matter out front was the smartest play for the situation we’d found ourselves in.
As Dark Matter and his forces shook out into formation and then surged forward, the enemy Battleships started to pull away.
“I’m receiving a transmission, Admiral. It’s the Aegis Battleship,” reported Steiner at Com’s, “the Captain’s calling in to report.”
“Alright,” I said with a nod and a gesture to my screen indicating I’d take the call, my eyes though never leaving the screen as the Blackwood and Epsilon Tarantula battleships thundered into broadside range and raked the shields of the two enemy battleships with the weakest shields.
“Thank the maker you came in time!” exclaimed the Officer who appeared on my screen inside his skinsuit with the hood pulled up for a seal. “You boys and girls are sure a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you. I thought we were done for.”
“Glad we could be of assistance,” I said, pulling my eyes away from the screen by force of will and meeting the other man’s eyes. “As you can see, we’re a bit busy at the moment driving these blighters away from you. But if there’s anything we can do to be of assistance after that, please let us know.”
I then cocked an eyebrow at him emphatically. The other officer flushed, although it was hard to see beyond his face shield, behind him I could see smoke spewing from one of the consoles on his bridge and a pair of medics hauling away an unmoving person. So he couldn’t have totally lost atmospheric pressure.
“Sorry, Sir,” said the Officer. “Acting Captain and First Officer Pritchart of the Battle Hammer class Battleship, Aegis Warhammer, at your service,” he paused long enough to bring his legs together and click his heels.
“What can I do for you, Pritchart?” I asked seriously, “I can see you’ve had a spot of trouble.” I couldn’t help looking back at the action taking place in the screen, and silently cheered as one of the enemy Battleships belched flames and atmosphere out of its ravaged flank. Another twisted, trying to bring its other side with the better shields to bear and the third, least damaged ship took to her heels in an attempt to escape.
“We took a hit to the bridge but managed to restore pressure, however all hands—including the Captain—were lost. I’m conning the ship here from the CIC. We also took a great deal of hull and engine damage, Sir. If you could see your way clear to taking us with you when you go, me and the Aegis Warhamme
r would greatly appreciate the courtesy, Vice Admiral,” said the Acting Captain.
“Will do, Captain,” I said with a curt nod, “we’ve got a bit of a battle to finish up here at the moment. As soon as we’re done driving off these Reclamation blighters, I’ll have someone swing back and throw you guys a tow line.”
“Thank you, Sir!” Pritchard said with relief, “our shields on the port side are down and our engines—”
I raised a hand cutting him off. “Forward a report to my Engineering bridge stander and we’ll take a look at it when we have the time. Right now there’s a battle to fight,” I said, and when the other officer nodded I cut the connection.
I turned back to the screen just in time to watch the third and last squadron of Sub-Formation 3, in this case the Epsilon Tarantula cruiser squadron, shot past the enemy Battleships.
Raking them from stem to stern in a high speed pass, the Cruisers took return fire. But as their shields were at full and the Reclamation Battleships were virtually uncovered, with their shields broken by Dark Matter’s battleship and the first cruiser squadron, they got through it with almost 50% remaining shields on the side facing the enemy.
“We’re up next,” said Lieutenant Hart.
“Ready as soon as you give the word, Captain,” said DuPont.
Hammer turned and looked at me from the screen, her face a silent question.
“The order is given,” I said, giving blanket permission for what we all knew had to happen.
“Now, Mister DuPont,” instructed Leonora Hammer, “take us in for a firing pass.”
“Firing pass, aye-Captain,” said the Helmsman and the Royal Rage adjusted course and steadily moved forward.
“Ready the gun deck,” ordered the flag captain.
“Gun deck ready, Sir,” said Hart after the back and forth over the microphone with the deck boss.
“Fire!” Hammer shouted as we came into range.
“Gun deck: fire—I say again fire-fire-fire,” Hart shouted into to the microphone.
Turbo-lasers hammered the unshielded enemy Battleships, punching holes in the enemy while heavy lasers shattered duralloy and smashed Reclamationist laser mounts into nonfunctional lumps of scrap metal
“Gunners: shift fire to hit their engines as we pass!” ordered Lieutenant Hart.
In a flash, we were past the listing enemy Battleships and the seven Cruisers behind us were lining up for their respective firing runs.
“Swing us around in the direction of that escaping Reclamation Battleship,” I ordered as we sailed past the two now heavily-damaged enemy warships.
“You heard the Admiral, Helmsman,” said Hammer.
“Changing course,” said DuPont.
With the enemy Battleship burning for all it was worth, we left close sensor range of the other two and still hadn’t caught her. We would have if we’d continued, but at this rate I figured it was not worth the risk.
“Get us back to the Aegis Warhammer,” I instructed.
“Plot a new course back to the Warhammer, Nav,” instructed Captain Hammer and the ship began to turn.
Returning to the site of the battle the two Reclamationist battleships were drifting and out of action while the Aegis Warhammer was moving at a pathetic speed.
A close in sensor look showed that instead of the main and two secondary engine setup of the Dreadnaught class, the Aegis battleship went for four equally-sized main engines. Each was smaller than the Royal Rage’s main engine, but larger than the secondaries. I wasn’t sure what to make of the strange set up, other than to order the Hart Battleship that was the third member of Sub-1’s under strength Battleship squadron to move in and take her under tow.
“That’s going to slow us down considerably, Admiral,” complained the Battleship Captain, “and we’ll be at a disadvantage in a fight. Plus the time to securely bring her under tow—”
“It’ll be better than what she could manage on her own while giving them time to repair their ship,” I said, dismissing that matter. “And if you’re worried about the tow cables then don’t just use the ones on your ship. There’s a perfectly functional Battleship on the other side of those lines. Have her use her bucking cables as well.”
“Aye, Sir,” the Captain said unhappily.
“Montagne out,” I cut the channel and took a deep breath. “New course, Mr. DuPont,” I slowly let the breath I was holding out, “take us straight through the center of the jamming field.”
Chapter Fifty-five: The Chase is on
“Find them. Find those provincials!” Front Admiral Tolwin snarled, stomping his feet angrily as he paced back and forth.
“We can’t find any sign of them, Admiral. After they dropped those accursed jamming buoys, we lost sensor lock,” said Lieutenant Commander Taffy.
“Not good enough, Sensors,” Tolwin snapped, “an entire fleet of warships doesn’t just up and vanish like a fart in the air scrubbers. We have the best sensors in the galaxy on these ships—find me those provincials!”
“Yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Commander Taffy said neutrally.
“Contact, Admiral,” reported Junior Captain Prentice Major.
“You have them?” the Front Admiral asked eagerly.
“One Cruiser and a trio of Destroyers looking worse for wear, Sir. No sign of the main fleet,” reported the Junior Captain.
“Send two squadrons of Destroyers and one of Cruisers to crush them like the bugs they are,” Tolwin sneered.
“Will do, Sir,” the Flag Captain said, cutting the orders and forwarding them to the Admiral for his signature.
“Find me that fleet!” snapped the Front Admiral, signing the orders on his touch pad with a flourish.
“Continuing with focused active sensor sweeps in all directions team,” Lieutenant Commander Taffy ordered, “we’ll find them for you, Sir.”
“They’re must be skirting the edges of this jammer field,” the Front Admiral muttered as he tried to think like a flat-footed provincial. His face hardened resolutely after a few moments of contemplation, “New course and heading for the Task Force.”
“Aye, Sir,” said the Captain as he relayed the orders.
They were going to sweep along the outer edge of this infernal jammer field. They had been going up and out, but now they’d start a more starward direction.
Moving like this looked more like the meandering course of a drunken sailor searching for a new bar immediately after being kicked out of the old one, but he had no choice. Hopefully they would stumble upon the enemy in this morass and he would look prescient instead of drunk and clueless.
He glared silently at the main screen as a jammer buoy registered on his sensors.
“Destroy that floating contraption masquerading as an ECM platform,” he said coldly.
He couldn’t destroy the enemy fleet if he couldn’t find it, but in the meantime he could at least help cut down the jamming by destroying every single one of the buoys he stumbled upon.
Chapter Fifty-six: The Coming Storm
“We still can’t localize the location of the Grand Fleet, High Admiral,” Captain Goddard said in a voice heavy with dissatisfaction. “They may be using old, outdated, and in some cases prehistoric technology but…” he trailed off unhappily.
“’Screamers,’ we used to call them back in the day,” High Admiral Janeski said dismissively. “A brute force method to be sure,” he added with a shrug, “but they have their place on the battlefield. You can hide your exact position by putting up a massive signal declaring ‘here I am’ to everyone and his proverbial cousin, which is why we discontinued their general use. Still, they say that there is no outdated technology, only outdated thinkers, Captain.”
“As you say, High Admiral,” Goddard agreed, “I just hope that the other Task Forces are having an easier time finding them inside that field than we are from outside it.”
“As always, it is up to us to adapt and overcome. Fear not, Captain. We will winkle them out in no time flat,”
the High Admiral said and then turned to the Commander of the Space Group. “Prepare to launch 37 squadrons of Imperial Strike Fighters, Commander,” he ordered with the faintest upturn at the corner of his mouth, “and have them fan out at the estimated edge of our sensor envelop to extend our range inside the jamming field.”
“Yes, Sir!” the Commander said enthusiastically. It wasn’t often the precious fighter squadrons of the Command Carrier got to prove themselves in battle.
“You should have just enough time to get them deployed before we hit the field. Don’t disappoint me, Commander,” Janeski said severely.
“Let us at them, Admiral. We’ll be in position in time,” replied the Commander of the Space Group.
“Excellent,” Janeski smirked in satisfaction. “As soon as the first 37 squadrons have launched I’d like you to launch an additional 37 squadrons and have them fan out, find the enemy and then return as soon as they have positive ID.”
“How are they to find the Flagship, Sir?” the Commander looked taken aback.
“I will upload our projected course, which we will deviate from only if we find the…Grand Fleet first,” said the High Admiral with mild disdain.
“Aye, Sir,” the Fighter Commander affirmed with a nod.
Two minutes later they plunged into the jammer field and the hunt was on.
Chapter Fifty-seven: Suppressed but not Oppressed
“New enemy contacts, Admiral Silverback—” reported an exhausted sensor officer.
He started to speak only to have to hold on for dear life as the flagship shook and shuddered nearly tossing him to the floor.
“Hull penetration on the starboard side. Heavy Laser bank 8 is down with Turbo-Lasers 3 and 7 non-responsive. We also have...” reported the Damage Control Officer, tolling out the litany of new damages Admiral. It was the duty of other officers to worry about the minutia of survival while Admiral Silverback came up with a plan of attack that would defeat the enemy.
Admiral's War Part One Page 33