by Don Foxe
Coop ordered, “Sky, I need the railgun prepped to deploy and laser cannons ready. We will hit the first ship with the standard one-two; railgun, followed by lasers on a three-second delay. Torpedo Room!”
“Ensigns Stanton and Nelson here, sir,” came the reply.
“You already have four in the tubes. When they go, continue to load replacements in the same mix unless you hear otherwise.”
“Copy, sir.”
The following minutes passed in silence. Time ticked by slowly, adding to the tension. Minutes filled with anticipation, fear, doubt and excitement.
“Exiting space-fold," Kebede finally announced.
A mini-mothership appeared on the SHD. Coop said, “Fire.”
Sky loosed a burst from the ship’s railgun, barely deployed from its interior hull compartment. A salvo of laser bursts followed from the keel-mounted cannon.
The combination wounded the big ship. Electrical fires sparkled in the dark vacuum. The ship lurched to port. “Report,” Cooper ordered.
“Penetration. Damage to multiple decks,” Kebede replied. “Massive chatter inside and cross-channel to the other ships. The damaged sections are being sealed. Laser cannons tracking to our position, preparing to fire.”
Kebede added, “Demon is on site, sir. Loba engaging the Primaries leading the mini-mothers.” Despite the tension of battle, the Ethiopian shook her head and smiled after saying, ‘mini-mothers,’ aloud.
“Drop beneath it,” Coop said, and Johnson began to act, only to discover the AI already had the ship coursing ahead and down. “Sky, calculate time needed for torpedoes in tubes one and two to make contact. Fire a tachyon beam to impact target five-seconds before they arrive.”
“A variation of what Rys did to the battlecruisers,” she said, grasping the plan. A few seconds later, “Ready,” she called.
“Fire.”
“Torpedo one, away. Torpedo two, away." A pause, longer than anyone thought should last, and, finally, she called, “Tachyon burst, away.”
The tachyon beam traveled at incredible speed, forcing Sky to wait until both torpedoes just about reached the target before firing. The injured Zenge ship fired random laser bursts in the direction of the 109, but ignored the torpedoes. The commander expected regenerated force field to mitigate their impact.
What he did not expect was a tachyon beam wiping out the force field, creating another hull breach, and two torpedoes ramming through, then into the ship.
Torpedo two tore through hull, bulkheads, and decks, rearranging the interior of the ship. Torpedo number one came to rest one-hundred feet on the far side of the ruptured hull. The nuclear load exploded, disintegrating half of the ship, leaving the other half open to space. Secondary explosions and implosions completed the destruction.
“Report,” Coop ordered.
Kebede provided a litany. “Mini-mother destroyed. The other seven moving to a defensive, close-quarters formation. Demon destroyed a Primary and is engaging the other three.
“The first wave of Primary ships are approximately three-million miles from Rys,” she continued reporting. “Planet and space platform tachyon cannons have recycled and are firing in sequentially. The distance is six-times the optimal effective range. Even at the extended range, they have destroyed or disabled six of eighteen. The other twelve have changed course. They are now moving toward our location. Only planet-based weapons appear able to utilize the tachyon-plasma combination. Regardless, the distance is now too great for a plasma load to maintain the necessary thermal component.”
“Genna?" Coop expected tactical information from the avatar.
“The five remaining mini-mothers are setting a defensive posture. They have stacked themselves to protect potential angles of attack. Demon is taking hits from the remaining three Primaries. She’s getting in her shots, but the odds are beginning to show. Their sonic shield is holding, but they are taking a beating inside. Incoming fire is bouncing the fighter like a speed-bag. Demon is faster and more maneuverable, but the Zenge have a lot of firepower to throw around. Only one-in-ten shots hit, but they are firing hundreds of times.”
“Lt. Johnson, get us to Demon,” Coop ordered. “If the mini-mothers want to circle the wagons, then let them. We’ll engage the Primaries. Let’s give Demon a break, before those other five ships make it back.”
“Yes, sir,” Lt.JG Jon-Jon Johnson answered. “Primary ships are already within range.”
“Sky, tell Loba to back off and take a breather. Genna, when you see an opening, take it. Jon-Jon get us in tight, and keep us in tight. Okay, people, let’s kick a little ass.”
As Genna initiated target lock with the tachyon cannon on one of the three remaining Primaries, Coop gave a questioning glance to Dr. Aziza, monitoring vitals. She gave a thumbs up and a smile. The crew fit to go.
Genna’s fingers flew across the Operations/Tactical computer. She remained in constant contact with Kennedy. Timing meant everything.
Johnson flew the 109 between two Primary ships, and Genna fired a tachyon burst, followed by lasers at the vessel on her port. The enemy ship on starboard received a railgun kinetic round, followed by four projectiles. The 109 passed the ships, descended steeply, and then executed a one-hundred-eighty-degree pivot. Behind and above them, everyone watched the two Zenge vessels fragment. With their force fields off-line, the lasers and dense rods either seared the inner workings, or smashed them to pieces.
Both methods proved equally destructive, tearing the two ships apart. Crews aboard the crippled Primaries could not seal every breach. Implosions and explosions ensued. Crews died with their ships.
In the fifteen-minutes from impact to the final death throes of the two ships, Jon-Jon positioned the 109’s nose above the final Primary. Genna released two non-nuclear torpedoes. Seconds before they reached the superstructure, she fired a tachyon burst. The cannon fire lit up the SHD. When their eyes readjusted from the flash, the bridge team watched the only remaining Primary in the rear guard break into four distinct pieces. Those pieces continued to fragment into smaller segments.
On his private channel, Cooper received a message from Storm. “Coop, Loba says you are a ‘showoff,’ and Magpie says ‘yippee-ki-ya, mother fucker.’ Storm, out.”
“Captain,” Kebede nearly screamed at him. “The five mini-mothers linked their power systems and fired five plasma projectiles.”
“Evasive action, Mr. Johnson,” Cooper ordered.
“Sir,” Kebede said, now standing behind her console. “They fired at the planet. Targeting indicates one for each moon base, one for each platform, and one headed for the palace. At the accelerated speed, from this distance, they will impact in thirty-minutes.”
“Storm, Demon to space-fold, protect the planet. Plasma rounds coming in hot. You should have a fifteen to twenty-minute window on arrival. We’re coming in behind you, Coop out.” To the Ethiopian, “Col. Kebede, please put your harness back on, and do not remove it again, or I will staple it on. Do you understand?”
“Demon has entered space-fold,” Kebede announced. “Harness on, and keeping it on. Sorry, Captain.”
“Kennedy, space-fold, now!" The AI, having monitored everything, was prepared for the order. She took the PT-109 to space-fold, punching velocity to 47,619,047mph. They would arrive a couple of minutes after the faster Demon, and have maybe fifteen-minutes to acquire, then shoot down plasma-fired flaming-hot projectiles traveling at eight-million miles-per-hour.
“Exiting space-fold,” Folly announced ten-minutes later. They entered natural space, and got nearly blown apart by a tachyon burst fired from one of the orbital platforms.
“They’re trying to shoot the incoming projectiles down,” Genna said. Coop held in a ‘no shit,’ and, instead, requested targeting solutions. “Kennedy has them,” the avatar informed him. “Demon is tracking the first projectile. Loba is flying toward it, to improve the odds of a hit with their railgun.”
“Pilot, park us between the incoming plasm
a rounds and the planet. Sky, please ask Rys’ stations not to kill us. Genna, fire all torpedoes. Clear the tubes and keep firing until you see empty sky. Kennedy, set the laser cannon for beam, not burst. Sindy, what’s happening with Demon?”
The systems operator, back in her seat, her heart rate back under control, reported, “Demon using her railgun. She’s laying down a field of fire. Rapid bursts. Single projectile impact. Incoming plasma round is disintegrating. Four got through. Demon is pursuing.”
“Sky, apprise Loba to make a quick fold. Get between the 109 and Rys. She can’t catch the loads from behind. We will launch upward from this position. I would hate to take them out by accident, so tell her to make sure she’s beyond our line of fire.”
“Done,” Sky replied.
Plasma bursts flew by the 109, fired from the planet and both moons. At least they realized the tachyon cannons could not hit something as tightly packed and fast as a plasma load. The speed of the loads made it nearly impossible to correctly calculate a path for a hit.
The PT-109, however, was designed for exactly this type of warfare. She is, after all, a PATROL - TORPEDO boat, and she is fast, and she is sure.
“Genna, lock five torpedoes to one projectile. Send all twenty at the incoming spread. If they cannot lock, engage proximity charges. If they get within one-hundred miles, let’s see if a proximal blast can take them out, or change their course. If they fail to make direct contact, maybe a concussive wave will have an effect.”
The Captain sat relaxed in his chair, issuing orders. He had his legs crossed, and gave the appearance of a man patiently waiting for something interesting to occur.
“Contact in five minutes,” Genna replied, taking her cue from the Captain, speaking in a calm voice.
Regardless of the demeanors on display, the subsequent five minutes strained nerves like dripping water on metal. All eyes on the SHD, except Genna, who monitored tactical displays, and Kebede keeping watch over everything else.
Genna confirmed a torpedo hit as a flare of white light showed on the video screen. This quickly followed by another . . . another . . . another . . . and nothing else.
“Four hits,” Genna confirmed. “One through, and four minutes from impact. It’s almost on top of us.”
“Storm,” Coop said. “Ready?”
“Coop,” Storm answered. “Elie is in front of the last projectile. Mags is about to fire everything she has. Oh, she said, ‘you might want to move your ass ‘cause it’s ‘bout to get hot in your neighborhood’. Storm, out.”
“Mr. Johnson, please take us straight down as quickly as you can,” Coop ordered.
Even with gravitational controls and a closed environment, Johnson’s swift reaction to the order, and their high rate of speed meant everyone would have hit the ceiling if not for battle harness.
The external cameras could not adjust focus at the speed of the descent, leaving Genna to inform the bridge of the last projectile’s destruction. Kebede confirmed the readings.
“We have Demon,” Sky said, and placed Loba on speaker.
“Storm says the twelve remaining Primary are making a beeline to the wormhole gate. The five non-designated ships disengaged from one another, and are also headed for the gate. Are we going to re-engage?”
“Stand down, Loba,” Cooper replied. “You’ve taken a pretty good beating, and we depleted torpedoes bringing down the plasma rounds. They now know this system possesses major defensive weapons. They witnessed their battlecruisers wiped out in one salvo, and a lot of their group taken down by two of us. I don’t think they are coming back anytime soon.”
“Roger,” Loba said. “Are we coming aboard?”
“Take Demon to the northern space platform. They will have equipment and personnel to handle repairs you might require. If I remember correctly, they also have a nice mess, and a bar. The three of you take R&R, and we’ll join you. Loba, Magpie, and Storm, damn nice shooting. SFPT-109, out.”
Then to Sky, he requested, “Please contact General Postatoon.”
“He’s already on coms, waiting,” Sky replied.
“General Postatoon, it appears your brand new weapons work rather well,” Coop said.
“They do indeed, Captain. Your chief engineer, Dr. Hernandez, came up with the idea of embedding plasma burst in the tachyon beams. We were skeptical, but it worked nicely. Would you agree?” the General asked, with obvious pride.
“Four Mischene-designed battlecruisers completely destroyed in under five minutes. I would call that a successful test.” Coop agreed.
“Captain, my apologize. When the Zenge fired those plasma rounds, we may have panicked, a bit. A tachyon burst nearly singed your ship when you came out of space-fold. We did not realize you would intervene so quickly,” explained the General.
After a short hesitation, he added: “Could you request Col. Gregory and Captain Shah stand down? I’m afraid they took command of the space platforms, by force, to prevent my people from continuing to fire randomly into space. They held more confidence in you than we did.”
“They took the platforms?” Coop said, choking back a laugh.
“Yes, Col. Gregory destroyed the tactical firing control computer on board the northern platform. Captain Shah acted more civilly, and simply unplugged the power coupling to the weapons system on the southern platform. Regardless, acts taken in the heat of battle. They continue to hold my command crews at gunpoint. If you would inform them no actions will be taken against them, I would appreciate it.”
“Sky, contact Gregory and Shah.”
“Waiting,” Sky replied, and switched their coms channels to overhead speakers.
“Col. Gregory, Captain Shah, this is Captain Cooper. I appreciate your actions to save our butts from friendly fire. Rys’ command realizes you acted in everyone’s best interest. You may stand down. No further action is needed. Rys military personnel will remain calm,” Coop informed his two ground (platform) commanders.
“Gregory. Aye, Captain. I’ll go meet Demon. Out" Followed by: “Shah. Aye, Captain. The station is plugged back in. Shah, out.”
CHAPTER 20
The 109 moored at the northern space platform. Cooper granted dock-leave to everyone, except a skeleton crew. Personnel could remain on board or visit the platform, but everyone ordered to stay alert and ready to report for action, in case the Zenge did something unexpected, like return.
Next, he inspected his ship, taking time to talk with everyone he met.
He exited the ship for an exterior inspection from the pier’s wrap-around enclosed dock. Luck rode with the 109. A black and grey singe scarred her starboard side, running three-quarters of the way from rear to forward hull. When they exited space-fold, and not yet running on sub-light, they had no sonic force field to protect them. They came within feet of destruction by friendly fire. Her white and blue paint scheme would sport the unwanted racing stripe until they returned to Earth.
Once assured the ship well off and in good hands, he made his way to the alien platform’s version of a saloon. The lounge design offered lots of tables, chairs built for people of varying size, and panoramic windows. Its location, near the top rear of the platform, and the studio’s ability to slowly rotate, meant everyone received a changing view of space, the moons, and the planet.
At two pushed-together tables, Gregory, Elie, Mags and Genna sat on one side with Star, Sky, and Storm on the other. Coop took a chair beside Storm, across from Genna.
“You blew up their control console,” he said to Gregory, who finished a short glass filled with the Rys’ equivalent of vodka.
“Shot it up, actually,” the Russian replied. “And you’re welcome.”
“Shah simply unplugged the one on the other platform,” Cooper replied, getting the attention of a tall, shaggy waiter.
“Shah is a much more patient officer,” Gregory responded. “I, on the other hand, am more direct.”
While Coop waited on his Rys’ beer, he spoke to Elie and Mags. “
Demon was great. The three of you (giving a playful shoulder bump to Storm) deserve medals for what you did out there.”
“Thanks to Storm, we didn’t get our ship crispy,” Mags said. “When long-range scans indicated the planet and the moons were tossing tachyon rounds into space like confetti, she had Elie stay in space-fold an extra minute. The added time took us past the planet. We circled back, above and around the bursts.”
“I, on the other hand, am more direct, and not as patient,” Coop said, mimicking Gregory. “And will avoid making the same mistake twice,” he added.
“Nor I,” Gregory said, then lifted his glass. “A toast to pulling the plug.”
They toasted pulling the plug, Coop raising his newly arrived glass of beer.
“I know where this is headed,” Genna said, pushing away from the table and standing. “The last time I was around a bunch of you, it ended with me throwing up and sick for days. I’m going back to the ship. You guys have fun." Everyone toasted Genna going back to the ship.
It was Elie who brought them on point. “Seriously,” she said. “What now?”
Coop set his drink on the table before answering. “We negotiate with the authorities on Rys for crystals. With or without an alliance, with or without a deal, we will transport crystals back with us." His tone sobered the group. Everyone realized he intended to use force to get more crystals, if necessary. Now equipped with tachyon cannons of incredible power and range, forcing the issue with the Lisza Kaugh could prove much more difficult.
“And we’re going to make a covert inspection of Fell,” he said, surprising everyone, especially the Fellen.
Cutting off questions or comments, he continued, “We need the crystals to complete more ships, and nearly as important, to power additional tachyon weapons. We saw how they protected Rys. We need to do the same thing on Earth. It would also help if we can improve our tech. Everyone has seen how advanced the Fellen are with communications hardware, and systems improvements. My understanding is they have more of both in their labs on Fell.”