by Tori Harris
“Whoa,” Lieutenant Lee remarked in awe as what looked like two distinct, fan-shaped groupings of orange-tinted energy weapons fire streaked both above and below Bravo 1’s hull to engage the two groups of departing missiles simultaneously.
With cold, methodical precision, the Hadeon’s AI worked through its list of targets, initially designating each one to receive as many as three separate impacts from its heavy beam emitters. As the list of targets quickly dwindled, each was assigned progressively more weapons fire until the list was reduced to zero. Within eight seconds of the anti-ship missiles leaving their vertical launch cells — and well before any had reached the curtain of kinetic energy rounds being laid down by the Theseus — the Hadeon had destroyed all forty-eight of Bravo 1’s anti-ship missiles.
“All inbound missiles destroyed!” Lau reported excitedly.”
“Securing all weapons from point-defense mode,” Schmidt added. “Optimum weapons range in one one seconds.”
“Well, I guess that settles the question of whether or not Commander Takkar was serious about helping us,” Reynolds said without looking up from her touchscreen.
“Maybe so,” Prescott replied. “I guess I’ll be more convinced when I see them open fire on their own ship.”
Even with much of her once proud hull now scorched and marred by a combination of the damage inflicted by the Carrada weapons pods and the relentless pounding from the Baldev’s energy weapons, TFS Theseus still managed a graceful, sweeping turn to begin her final attack run on the distant battleship.
“Point location target acquired and locked,” Schmidt reported from Tactical 1. “All seven two HB-7c missiles confirming re-task order. Firing all weapons.”
Before Schmidt had even finished executing the required commands at his console, the Hadeon opened fire on the Baldev’s drive section with all of her starboard energy weapons banks — now configured for an anti-ship strike and converged on the point location designated by her new ally. The center of the targeted area blazed forth with brilliant, white light surrounded by an angry, orange glow as massive amounts of energy were delivered to a roughly four square meter area of the battleship’s aft shields. Milliseconds later, Theseus added her diminished but still powerful salvo of three plasma torpedoes along with focused fire from twenty-three beam emitters and seven railgun turrets.
The barrage continued for what seemed like an eternity to the crews aboard both attacking ships, each of which continued to take a ferocious pounding from the Baldev’s powerful aft and starboard energy weapons. In reality, however, only a few seconds passed before the battleship’s already weakened supplemental shields lost several additional emitters to kinetic energy weapons fire, leading to a localized failure in the targeted area. The opportunity was immediately detected by Theseus’ AI, which commanded all seventy-two of the inbound HB-7c missiles to strike the now-vulnerable area — calculating that at least a few would manage to transition inside the battleship’s primary shields.
Chapter 10
SCS Gunov, Location Crossbow
(5.93x1011 km from Location Dagger)
“We will reach optimal energy weapons range to the remaining Terran vessel in just under two minutes, Commodore,” the Gunov’s tactical officer reported.
With nearly six minutes now having elapsed since most of the enemy warships had transitioned to hyperspace, Sarafi was growing increasingly anxious that he was either running out of time, or, worse, being led into a trap by the fleeing Human ship.
“This is taking far too long,” he said gravely. “We need to finish off this last target and return to the confines of our defensive perimeter as quickly as possible.”
“If their damage is significant, perhaps a spread of anti-ship missiles might finish them off before we are forced to engage with energy weapons,” Commander Freyda suggested. Although still not comfortable with the idea of destroying damaged enemy vessels that were clearly no longer a threat, this one was attempting to leave the area rather than surrender. In her mind, the simple act of failing to yield and face capture rendered them fair game for additional attacks.
“Do it. And make it a spread of eighteen — six from each ship,” Sarafi growled, chiding himself for being so distracted that he had not considered this simple tactic several minutes before.
“Six missiles from each ship, aye, sir,” his tactical officer repeated. “Both ships acknowledged — firing.”
Atop each of the three Gresav-class destroyers, small sets of doors above six vertical launch cells swung open. Immediately thereafter, bright plumes of fiery exhaust gas escaped from the adjacent vents as anti-ship missiles climbed silently above each destroyer atop a pillar of flame.
“Missiles away,” the tactical officer reported. “Time to impact, twenty-nine seconds.”
“Should we risk a turn back towards our perimeter now?” Freyda asked.
Sarafi considered her question momentarily. It was certainly not a foregone conclusion that the missile attack would destroy the remaining Human vessel, especially given that they were equipped not only with shields, but also formidable point defense weaponry. Continuing this seemingly endless pursuit of a single, damaged enemy ship while potentially endangering the most critical remaining members of his own task force, however, was beginning to feel very much like the errand of a fool.
“A wise question, Commander,” he replied, “and I am of your way of thinking entirely. Helm, set a course back to the point where we began the previous engagement — directly above our remaining cruiser, please.”
“Contacts!” the tactical officer announced yet again. “I have two of the Terran vessels dead ahead, sir, to either side of the damaged ship. They appear to be laying down defensive fire.”
“Helm, belay my previous order. Continue on course towards the damaged vessel. Tactical, if they succeed in shooting down our missiles, concentrate all of our formation’s energy weapons fire on the damaged vessel first. Once we eliminate that one, we will move on to the other two. XO, I suspect the remaining Terran vessels will resume their attack on the Rusalovs momentarily. Be prepared to —”
Before Sarafi could complete his sentence, the Gresav-class destroyer immediately to port and slightly aft of his ship exploded in a brilliant white ball of fire as fifteen HB-7c missiles transitioned from hyperspace inside her aft shields, penetrated her hull, and detonated their compact antimatter warheads.
“Helm, break left!” he roared with a level of fury beyond anything the members of his bridge crew had ever experienced from their Commodore.
Thrusters all along the Gunov’s starboard bow blazed into life and immediately began pushing the huge warship to port, even as her gimbaled sublight engine nozzles vectored the tremendous thrust required to bring her stern around while simultaneously increasing to maximum power. Even before the destroyer was fully established on her new course, the second volley of fifteen anti-ship missiles — originally intended for her vulnerable drive section — transitioned from hyperspace where their target had been located just moments before. The missiles continued ahead harmlessly for a few additional seconds before being automatically targeted by the Gunov’s AI, which quickly dispatched the entire group with murderously accurate energy weapons fire.
Right up to the moment before the Gunov had made her dramatic turn to port, her remaining consort to starboard had been dutifully maintaining her assigned position in the three-ship formation. Caught completely off guard by Commodore Sarafi’s frantic evasive action, she found herself alone, continuing along the same course she had been following for the last several minutes. As her helmsman hesitated, unsure of whether to attempt a left turning rejoin with the Gunov, she was an easy target for the third and final salvo of fifteen anti-ship missiles.
***
After the stunning success of his first attack against the Resistance cruisers, Captain Abrams had not expected to find himself in a situation where the same tactics might once again prove effective. Having suffered his own grievous
losses to the Resistance battleships’ heavy guns, however, he had been looking for any opportunity to once again gain the upper hand — preferably while avoiding the necessity of another frontal assault.
The fleeing Theseus-class destroyer, while temporarily unable to transition and in grave danger of being destroyed, had nevertheless provided an unexpected, and much needed, bounty of real-time battlespace intelligence data. Armed with this precious information, Abrams had been granted the luxury of assessing the situation to determine his next move within the relative safety of hyperspace.
As difficult as it had been to watch helplessly as the Resistance warships ruthlessly eliminated the two most seriously damaged members of his task force, it was Commodore Sarafi’s next move that had finally provided the opportunity Abrams had been waiting for. In his haste to eliminate the third and final damaged Terran ship as a potential threat, Sarafi had allowed his three-ship formation to be drawn away from the bulk of his forces — drawn away at a predictable speed along a direct flight path towards his fleeing prey. Although Captain Abrams had dared not hope that this situation would remain in place long enough to be exploited, he had nevertheless gambled that placing two additional ships in Sarafi’s path might entice him to continue on his present course — with any luck, long enough to be targeted for a C-Drive-equipped missile strike.
At a range of approximately five light seconds (1.5 million km), three Theseus-class destroyers had transitioned back into normal space and immediately fired five HB-7c missiles each at the first of Sarafi’s three ships. As the missiles accelerated towards their distant target, control had been seamlessly transferred to one of the friendly warships directly in Sarafi’s flight path, which immediately began transmitting the precise targeting data the missiles required to successfully execute their C-Jump.
Abrams was well aware that he would need every weapon at his disposal for the coming fight against the Resistance battleships, and had initially considered waiting for a damage assessment before firing additional missiles. Realizing that he would almost certainly not be afforded an opportunity like this one again, however, he quickly fired the second and third salvos of fifteen missiles. Less than thirty seconds after the initial volley of missiles had been fired, the dramatic effects of the attack were graphically displayed on the tactical plots aboard all eleven of the remaining Theseus-class destroyers. No crewmember aboard any of the Human vessels had been more surprised by the results than Captain Bruce Abrams.
***
“Commodore, the three Terran vessels have destroyed all eighteen of our anti-ship missiles,” the Gunov’s tactical officer reported sheepishly. Although it was his job to report such things in a timely fashion to whomever was in command of the ship, the youngish Wek lieutenant was completely unwilling to report the obvious destruction of the other two Gresav-class destroyers that had until recently been members of their three-ship formation.
“Helm, maintain maximum power to the sublight engines and head back towards the remainder of our forces,” Sarafi ordered, ignoring his tactical officer and speaking in a surprisingly calm voice given his barely controlled rage of just moments before. “Continue random evasive maneuvers per Annex-Three of the TACPLAN and do what you can to prevent the Terran warships from closing on us.”
The words were like ash in his mouth at this point. With the knowledge in his possession at the outset of this battle, he knew that there was no excuse for his allowing the Humans to take advantage of their damnable hyperdrive-equipped missiles — not once, but twice. And there was no question in his mind that the blame for the tremendous losses suffered thus far would fall squarely on his shoulders. In Sarafi’s mind, only one path remained open that would salvage his career and indeed save his own life at this point. The attack on Terra must end in either the destruction of Human civilization, or in the very least a last stand worthy of uniting the Collective against them as well as their Pelaran benefactors.
“Aye, sir. Executing now,” he heard his Helm officer acknowledge from what seemed like a great distance.
With his task force now reduced to something approaching the minimum number of warships required to mount any sort of conventional attack on Terra, Sarafi realized that he could no longer afford to risk additional losses. While he fully expected that the very same ships he had engaged here would, in all likelihood, be waiting for him when he transitioned from hyperspace near the target, his task force’s arrival would immediately force the Humans into a defensive role. This alone, he hoped, would go a long way towards mitigating some of the losses he had already suffered.
“XO, see that the navigation systems from all remaining vessels are coupled to the Gunov’s and inform all vessels that we will transition to hyperspace momentarily. There will be no intermediate destination. We will proceed directly to Terra and execute our attack per the original plan. Once we are on our way, we will have roughly two Terran days in transit. During that time, I will communicate with our captains and address any last minute issues. Understood?”
“Of course, Commodore,” Freyda replied, doing an admirable job of hiding whatever reservations she might have had regarding their prospects for successfully completing their mission at this point.
“Very well. I will give you a few moments to complete your task, then I would like you to be a witness when I knowingly and purposely violate a number of Sajeth Collective security regulations.”
“I, uh …” she began hesitantly, “as you wish, sir.”
At his Command workstation, Sarafi worked quickly to bypass the security restrictions intended to prevent him from displaying classified information on a screen that was clearly not located in a secure location. He then removed the electronic safeguards intended to prevent data from being transferred between the Pelaran-derived surveillance drones at each of his rally points, then explicitly granted the Gunov full access to the AIs of every Resistance vessel at both locations. With that accomplished, he called up the same video surveillance feeds from the original rally point that he had been monitoring from the privacy of his ready room as well as a tactical situation display provided by a combination of ships’ AIs near the original rally point.
What he saw sent a series of involuntary chills running down the length of his spine. The situation was confused at best, but at first glance it appeared that the Baldev had been heavily damaged and might even be adrift based on its apparent movement. The Hadeon appeared largely undamaged — leave it to the Damaran to avoid any potential for damage, Sarafi thought bitterly. Her sister ship, the Keturah, looked to be in much the same shape as the Baldev, perhaps worse by the looks of her mangled stern. As for the two Shopak-class cruisers that were previously assigned to the detachment, the floating hulk of the Babayev was still in the same general area as before. The other vessel, the name of which escaped Sarafi at the moment, was nowhere to be seen. The Human warship, for its part, was an appalling mess to behold, but nevertheless gave the impression of still maneuvering under its own power — no doubt delivering far more damage to his forces than it had received.
“Comm, please hail Commander Miah aboard the Hadeon if you please,” Sarafi ordered.
“Uh, sir …” the comm officer began tentatively after a momentary pause, “begging your pardon, sir, but we have not yet established long-range communications with our vessels at the original rally point.”
Sarafi looked up from his display screen with a savage, but somewhat amused look on his face. “Please indulge me by following my orders, Lieutenant,” he replied. “Perhaps you will be surprised by the results.”
“Of course, Commodore, right away,” the young Wek officer said.
After a few moments of rapidly entering commands at his workstation, the communications officer turned in his chair to face Sarafi again. “I am sorry, sir, but the Hadeon is not responding.” Unsure if his commanding officer was simply mistaken or if he actually believed that they should be capable of contacting the BD cruiser from over half a trillion miles away,
he stared earnestly at Sarafi and simply waited for a response.
“Unfortunately, that does not surprise me, Lieutenant. Try the Baldev please, and do it quickly. We need to depart for Terra as soon as possible before our enemy has time to organize for yet another attack.”
“Aye, sir,” he replied immediately, willing to do just about anything at this point to avoid further irritating the commodore.
“Sir, we have successfully coupled our navigation system to those of our remaining vessels,” Freyda reported. “All are prepared to depart on our signal.”
“Thank you, Commander. I expect we will do exactly that momentarily. Is the remaining BD cruiser capable of transitioning to hyperspace?”
“Yes, sir. As are all six Rusalov battleships for a total of eight.”
“It will be enough, Ragini. In any event, we have little choice in the matter at this point, eh?” he said with an ironic smile.
Freyda regarded him for a moment, thinking that such comments seemed oddly misplaced under the circumstances, then continued, “I also feel obligated to remind you of the three damaged cruisers requesting our assistance.”
Sarafi seemed shaken by her statement, and the distant look in his eyes led Freyda to believe that he truly had forgotten about the thousands of lives hanging in the balance aboard the stricken vessels.
“This is an active war zone, Commander,” he finally said. “It is indeed a regrettable situation, but rescue operations are simply not possible while the remainder of our ships are under attack. I fear we would end up losing more lives than we could possibly save. With any luck, the Human vessels will feel some obligation to assist them once we depart.”