Admiral's War Part One

by Wachter, Luke Sky

  Spreading their fire out, the enemy Battleships continued to rain thunder on our formation. I blinked in confusion when I realized that the enemy was not spreading out their fire. Despite the clearest shots being on the two Aegis Battleships, the Reclamation Battleships almost seemed to ignore those ships in favor of the much trickier shots at the rest of our formation’s core.

  “We’re taking fire,” reported Lieutenant Hart at Tactical.

  “Shields are dropping,” Longbottom reported crisply, “95%... 85%... 80%.”

  The enemy Battleships on their oblique approach continued to hammer the Grand Fleet, with only a small and relatively ineffective reply from our forces.

  “Admiral, we aren’t able to do any kind of damage like this with our sterns pointed at the enemy. We need to consider adjusting our course and heading if we want to hit back,” said the Captain.

  “We’re not going to be able to take down any of the enemy, even if we were at full strength and we wanted to, Captain. The only path to the Fleet’s survival lies back across that line,” I said, pointing to the hyper limit.

  “If we don’t fight back, I’m afraid they’ll simply knock down our shields and tear us apart,” said Hammer clinically.

  “That’s what we have the Aegis Battleships for. We don’t have to worry until the second wave arrives with those fighters,” I explained, my eyes flickering toward the battle plot.

  “They’re going to wear down our shields to soften us up for that second wave and its fighters,” observed Hammer.

  “I’m well aware,” I grudged, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. “Fortunately, in order to catch up with us they had to move at top speed. It’ll take them a while to slow down, meaning they’ll pass us and have to swing back around. So we won’t be dealing with both sets of Battleships at the same time.”

  “Not on the first passes,” Hammer said.

  I winced at her insinuation. “We’ll make it,” I said with a sense of certainty I was feeling less and less. Some might even call it an outright false sense, but I liked to think of it as more pessimistically speculative.

  In direct defiance of my proud assertions, the first eight Battleships of the Reclamation Fleet continued pounding our shields down until finally their course and speed brought them roughly alongside us.

  Seeing that our formation was like a coin with the thin edge pointed at the Reclamation Battleships, and we couldn’t bring our main weapons to bear except for those ships along the outside, I turned to look at the image of the Captain on my holo-screen.

  “New order to the task group: rotate formation so that all ships can have a clean line of sight on the enemy and roll our ships as needed to present broadsides,” I said.

  Hammer nodded and relayed the order. Slowly, our warship formation turned until the flat side of our disc-shaped group was turned to face the enemy. Then, all but two of the ships needed to keep the Aegis warships under tow—and, of course, the Aegis warships themselves—rotated to bring their weapons to bear and fired.

  Finally free to return fire, gunners throughout the fleet gave vent to their frustration at being forced to take fire during the enemy’s approach. They immediately cut loose with a torrent of heavy and turbo-laser strikes.

  “We’re getting good hit ratios in excess of 90%!” Hart said with triumph.

  I smiled wanly. Gunnery was doing a fine job, but all it was doing was raising morale. As soon as we started to push down their shields, they would move out of weapons range and two fresh squadrons of Battleships—these ones accompanied by enemy fighters—would move to attack.

  “A hit!” Hart chortled. “Our boys and girls punched one through their shields.”

  While it wasn’t the most effective counter-fire I’d ever seen, every hit we could land counted—again, even if only for morale purposes. Sadly, we weren’t the only ones landing blows through weakened shields. But for the flagship, the damage was minimal since the Royal Rage’s hull was made out of Duralloy II, and despite residual damage from the earlier attacks the ship easily shrugged it off.

  Fire and counter-fire flashed back and forth between our two formations, steadily wearing down our shield power. Almost like it was planned, right about the time the enemy Battleships were starting to feel the loss of their shields, the first formation moved out of range and the second came charging forward. Obviously it had been planned, and it had been a very well thought out plan that didn’t rely on luck but rather on meticulous timing.

  I scowled at the battle plot. Instead of attacking at an oblique angle like the first wave, this second group was on a direct course which, unless adjusted, would take them right through the middle of our formation. Behind the enemy wall of battle lurked more of those torpedo-armed Imperial Strike Fighters.

  I could tell Janeski’s plan easily enough: wear down our shields with the first group and finish us off with the second set of Battleships. Then, while the enemy heavies pounded us, their fighters would swoop in and take away our ability to escape with precision strikes.

  It was enough to send a man howling through the void. Well…a lesser man perhaps. I was determined that if anyone was sent howling, it would be those blasted Imperials invading our home Sector.

  Since they were hot on our tails, instead of lining up for a slanted or oblique approach like the first group, there wasn’t the same exchange of fire between us as there had been before. However, I thought as my face tightened, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t going to be a whole order of hurt worse.

  “The enemy is taking great care to keep their wall of battle between us and those fighters,” Captain Hammer reported somewhat unnecessarily.

  “As long as they can knock our shields down low enough, those fighters are going to have a field day getting in close and hammering us,” I said flatly.

  “All good things come to those who wait,” Hammer said sardonically.

  “I’m the only one who gets to snark freely in the face of the enemy, Captain,” I riposted in kind.

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind, Admiral, Sir,” she said with a straight face.

  For a handful of seconds we shared the moment of near-humor before, as it tends to do, reality re-intruded and it was back to nail-biting as the second enemy thrust—and the heavier of the two—started to come into range.

  “Is there any indication they intend to do anything other than run right into the middle of our formation?” I asked the Captain.

  There was a slight pause before she replied, “Not as yet.”

  “A gutsy move, if that’s their intent,” I mused as my gaze sharpened. Janeski and his officers underestimated me at their own direct and personal peril. Getting in close would allow them to do greater damage but, by the same token, it would allow us to hit back much harder. There was no doubt that whatever they were up to it was going to hurt, but they’d be well advised to count their fingers when they pulled back. I preferred a sharp knife to a big stick, and I had no intentions of walking softly at this point.

  “They might think they have the combat power to push it,” said Hammer.

  “We’ll just have to prove them wrong, eh?” I said drolly.

  “We’ll give them the fight of their lives,” Leonora Hammer said loyally.

  That would probably be ‘the fight of our lives,’ but she was dead right; it was time to cinch up the belt and put on our game faces. And though the weight of this day pressed down on me like a neutronium weight, I gave a sharp nod and glared up at the main screen. “That we will—they won’t know what hit them,” I said bravely.

  A minute later, as the enemy turned to present their broadsides, fire started to rock the ship and I was beginning to rue those words.

  “The enemy is concentrating fire on the Aegis rearguard,” said Hart, even as the Royal Rage rocked from a powerful series of hits.

  “It doesn’t feel like that, Tactical,” I grunted with both hands holding tightly onto the arms of my command chair.

  “That
’s because while six of the enemy Battleships are focusing on the rear guard, the other two are firing at us,” Hart replied promptly.

  “That would explain it,” I muttered.

  “Helmsman, prepare to roll the ship on my command,” Hammer said in a detached, professional voice as she proceeded to fire orders to the various department heads.

  “Yes, Sir,” said DuPont.

  The enemy Battleships majestically turned to point their bows at us, and once again surged forward.

  “They’re toying with us,” I growled, staring at the screen with slitted eyes.

  “They likely want to soften us up before they come to grips at close range,” said Hammer.

  I was done with the witty remarks—it was down to ‘kill or be killed.’ The best thing I could do was sit still and wait until there was something I could actually do. Being the rock around which the bridge crew relied on was important, even if it didn’t help my nerves any. That was the price of command…or a part of it, anyway.

  The two Reclamation Battleship squadrons slowly pulled into close range. “Do you want us to break formation and turn to attack, Sir?” Hammer asked dispassionately.

  I shook my head. “We hold,” I said…silently adding, at least for now.

  “Enemy warships are closing in!” reported Lieutenant Hart.

  “Several shuttles have just left the Aegis flagship,” reported the Sensor Officer.

  “Morons,” I said with disbelief.

  “I tend to agree,” Hammer said after a short, perfectly-timed pause.

  I shook my head incredulously—a motion which suddenly froze the moment the shuttles nearly disappeared from our sensors, leaving only ghost like traces behind that blurred and shifted randomly.

  “It looks like the Aegis shuttles that just left Admiral Silverback’s flagship have some sort of ECM or sensor masking technology, Captain,” reported the Sensor Officer.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Captain Hammer said dryly.

  “Shiftier than a Tragorain Sand Weasel,” I smirked. Aegis and that Silverback really were a little bit too much at times. “What do you think the odds are that the esteemed Admiral is onboard one of those shuttles?”

  Leonora Hammer looked shocked and then frowned severely. “True or not, bruiting around those sorts of ideas can only be damaging to morale…Admiral,” she said pointedly.

  “Fine,” I said, waving her and the entire subject away.

  “Shields are falling!” cried Longbottom.

  “The rearguard ships are taking heavy sustained fire!” reported Lieutenant Hart. “Their shields are down and the enemy has split formation with a squadron of Battleships each going port and starboard. They are drilling through the Aegians’ armor. It looks like multiple out-gassing events with hull breaches all up and down the hull of Silverback’s flagship, and her sister ship isn’t doing any better.”

  I watched as the enemy warships continued to rake the rearguard at close range, even as they used their superior speed to bring them up alongside the rest of the fleet.

  “The enemy is turning at an angle…they’re trying to maneuver for an up-the-kilt shot!” reported Hart.

  My lip curled. There was a reason I had moved this part of the fleet at half speed the entire time instead of abandoning the slower ships to their own devices. It was more than the loyalty I felt to comrades in arms—or even my duty as their Admiral to do my best to get them out of this battle alive. It was exactly so that we could place the Aegis Battleships to guard our engines.

  The sad fact of the matter was that it would take more than a miracle to save two crippled Battleships that couldn’t even point transfer. But Silverback had already transferred all non-essential personnel off those ships and through their sacrifice I intended to save much, much more.

  Unaware and uncaring of my thoughts, the Reclamation Battleships continued to close in. Their weapons fire was once again spread across our entire formation as they continued to press their advantage and move ever closer to unleashing their Strike Fighters on us.

  “We may be down, but we’re not out,” I growled under my breath.

  The enemy seemed to be determined to knock down shields over doing actual damage in their eagerness to unleash their small horde of fighters. It was a blunder that they were going to pay for. Another man might have wondered where they’d possibly gone wrong, but to me the answer was obviously the blunder of predictability—and I aimed to make them pay badly for it.

  “Captain Hammer, prepare the ship for a hot action,” I said, then opened a private channel to DuPont so that we could put our heads together.

  It was all going to come down to a matter of timing.

  Thinking back to the only comparable situation this fleet had faced, all I could come up with on short notice was the battle for Aqua Nova. When I had given the idea a moment’s thought, I knew I couldn’t possibly fail to act—and let a small time actor like Lieutenant Commander Archibald show me up.

  Next, I turned to Ms. Blythe at Damage Control since we were going to need a deft hand on the bucking cables.

  It was time to go all-in.

  Chapter Seventy-six: Imperial Trigger Call

  The High Admiral watched as the first group of his Battleships knocked down the local’s shields and the second moved in for the kill. Even as they did so, the first began to swoop back around for another pass just to be certain the enemy was neutralized.

  “Remind me after the battle exactly who the senior commander on scene is, Captain Goddard,” Janeski said with a brief, flinty smile.

  “Of course, Admiral,” the Flag Captain said respectfully. There was a moment of pause.

  “The locals should be finished before they even have the chance to reach the hyper limit,” the Admiral said with deep satisfaction. In all of his time spent out on the fringes of known space, executing Man’s long recorded will and doing his duty to all of humanity, he had faced many trials and troubles. But nothing had stuck in his craw half so badly as losing the Lucky Clover to fate, wild circumstances, and the ineffectual powder puff Jason Montagne, “Six months of work wasted, and another six simply to recover to where we should have started out from; you owe me, Governor, and as Man is my witness and works his will upon the righteously efficient, I intend to collect in full—today.”

  “The rustics should consider it an honor to have crossed swords with a real Admiral, rather than the usual pirate or up-jumped weekend militia warrior,” Captain Goddard said with a modicum of respect. “They won’t, of course, but that is burden that we as Imperial officers are forced to shoulder—a complete and utter lack of appreciation.”

  “Their burden is how to deal with defeat and its aftermath,” Janeski said wearily, “let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves here. The battle is not won and our duty to humanity is clear: we will reclaim these Sectors in the name of the Empire of Man and in pursuit of a stronger united humanity. Only through real unity can mankind survive the dangers beyond the border, or the heresies of those factions lurking like worms in an apple which infest the body politic.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir,” Goddard said fervently.

  The High Admiral focused back fully upon the final running battle taking place just inside the hyper limit and nodded with satisfaction. Unnoticed by most, and noticed but dismissed as likely to come to nothing by others, one particular enemy ship began to change position within the enemy formation.

  “The commander on scene should be ready to move in and unleash the fighters at any time,” said Janeski, noting the ship’s movement but dismissing it as either a desperate measure doomed to be too little too late, or merely the action of an officer lacking the discipline to hold formation under pressure. That ship in particular would never escape, no matter what it tried, to do so there was little point in worrying.

  “I agree,” Captain Goddard said, “in fact, I would guess—”

  There was a stir on the battle plot as that shifty Battleship—the one with a particularly trying o
fficer commanding it—suddenly went to full acceleration, slipping to the edge of the enemy battle formation close to exactly about the very same time as the fighters had finished deploying and had fully moved out in front of the safe cover of the Reclamation Battleships.

  “Enhance the enemy flagship,” barked Janeski.

  The screen showed one Caprian Dreadnaught class Battleship pivoting around another at incredibly close range.

  “Flaming atoms,” Goddard said with disbelief.

  In a trice, the Caprian Battleship completed the seemingly impossible turn and then, also in record time, presented its broadside to the Strike Fighters.

  “Son of Man…may his unique genetic code protect your nearsighted children,” Janeski cursed as the enemy opened fire with those infernally effective plasma balls. A number of fighters were instantly vaporized while the rest quickly scattered to avoid the incoming barrage.

  “Even though that ship has disrupted the fighter formation and may have temporarily saved several of their sister ships, they’ve as good as signed their own death warrant,” remarked Goddard.

  The High Admiral stiffened in his chair. “Die,” he commanded coldly, staring at the screen with piercing eyes.

  Chapter Seventy-seven: In the Middle of the Mix

  “Fire!” shouted the Tactical Officer as soon as the first guns came to bear. “Give them everything you’ve got, Gunnery!”

  “Bucking cables are under strain,” Blythe said at Damage Control with an uncharacteristic strain her voice.

  “I’m doing the best I can,” DuPont flared.

  “Port shields have collapsed and the shield generator’s gone into automatic shutdown mode,” reported Longbottom. “We’re bare as a baby’s bottom out there, Sir.”

  “Enemy fighters are moving into attack position,” reported the assistant Tactical Officer, her voice cutting through the growing din.

  The ship seemed to creak and groan as the Royal Rage came to a stop fully pointed toward the enemy.