by Don Foxe
Storm checked her tactical display, and replied, “Unlimited kinetics for the railgun. Heat signature is low, so no problem. Projectiles. You only have a dozen left.
“Laser cannons are recycling, and because Sky has been rotating them, none are in danger of overheating. We’ve put one ship out of service, and destroyed two more while sustaining no damage, other than my pride. I can’t believe I threw up like that.”
“At least you were in the head,” Sky said. “I had to go in that damn little sink.”
“Speaking of, make sure to lock the lids on both of those. If we have to make a few more loops, it could get nasty in there.”
Realizing she was stuck in the bay if Angel started pitching about, Storm removed her harness, and hurried to make sure the sink,and toilet lids were closed and locked.
After she returned and strapped in at com-tac, Cooper inquired the status of the other ships.
“Half-hour, hour tops on the arrival of the remaining three Primaries. The battlecruisers can get here anytime they want. By the way, the first Primary ship is still headed toward open space. Either that’s the way they want to run, or they have no control.”
“We’ll drift here,” Cooper told them. “If they fire from distance, we’ll have time to power up, and either move, or get the sonic forcefield up. Maybe they’ll think we took damage in the fight, and cannot navigate.”
“Surprise wins more battles than numbers,” Sky mimicked him. “But not as surprised as the first three. They’ve been watching.”
Coop knew their odds of continuing their dominance over the Zenge were starting to run low. The enemy had time to put together a plan of action based on what already occurred. The two Mischene ships could hit them anytime. They were his biggest fear. There was no way to know when they would join the fray . . . most likely at a moment least favorable for Angel 7 and her crew.
During the initial battle, the Zenge did not fire a single shot at the Star Gazer. The intercepted torpedoes were originally meant for Angel 7, and retargeted on the cruise ship after Coop jumped to space-fold.
The next wave would make different choices.
Had he made the best decision? Stopping the ship, and directing power to the shield defenses? Should they have kept running? They would have traveled another 120,000 miles, had they kept going.
Everyone sat quietly, until Storm said, “All three Zenge ships just launched torpedoes. I count thirty-six. Twenty-eight coming at us, and eight on track for the Star Gazer.”
Storm was a testament to how battle could tear a person apart, or make them tougher. She told them the news of impending doom with the same tone she used to recite the weapons list. The Fellen were one tough race.
“Time is plus one-sixty,” she added.
Chapter 39
Going against an armada, Angel 7, and her three-person crew reminded Cooper why Space Fleet designated the John F. Kennedy as a PT. The small, quick PT-boats operated in the Pacific during Earth’s World War II used speed, agility, and the shear guts and determination of their crew to go up against Japanese ships with thousands of tons more bulk, and many more weapons. The PT-boats won more battles than they lost. He also remembered a Japanese destroyer sliced the original PT-109 in half.
He wished he had the 109 now. Angel was a wonderful ship, but she had her limitations. Limiting limitations, and taking advantage of their strengths increased their chances of success. Succeed or die.
Coop backed away from the debris field created by the destroyed Zenge space ships. He kept the debris between Angel 7, and the incoming torpedoes. Since the twenty-eight torpedoes coming their way operated with smart-drives able to track them, and since they could not jump into space-fold, they would have to shoot down what they could. He would avoid those left, until they could shoot them down as well. If they took hits, he hoped the sonic forcefield would maintain integrity.
As for the eight headed for the Star Gazer. They had further to travel. He intended to see if any of the torpedoes impacted debris and exploded. If that happened, few enough might remain so Sky and he could take them. That was assuming they would have the time, and speed to intercept them. If they could not, the forcefield changes made to the cruise ship would have to keep it safe until they could get there.
Fifteen minutes later the torpedoes fired at Angel reached the debris field. Torpedoes are not as agile as missiles. A half-dozen impacted debris with mass substantial enough to cause them to explode. Twenty-two made it through. He and Sky started firing in unison, both aware of targets’ distances and speeds; able to attain acquisition from the heads-up displays linked to com-tac.
The dark space night lit up with explosions, as one after another torpedo was hit and destroyed. Coop used kinetic loads only, saving the nymphs. The intensity of a hypersonic load meeting an equally fast torpedo was like a race car running into a wall. In this case, a wall that hit back.
Sky switched her railgun joy stick to manipulate the swivel cannons. She could use both sticks to aim and fire every cannon, fixed and swivel, sending multiple laser bursts from multiple angles.
Six torpedoes were on them, when Coop reached down with his left hand, and pushed the lever located by his hip forward. Angel 7 fell like a stone. For Sky and Storm, who did not know about the ship’s ability to drop like that, at speed, it was an elevator ride from hell. The gravity controls within the ship could not match the maneuver.
The chair harnesses tightened automatically, and the seats inflated to protect their organs. The trio being hit with g-forces in a gravity-free environment.
The six torpedoes sped by. Before the women could recover their wits, Cooper, who knew the plan in case any of the torpedoes got through, but had not bothered to share it, used the laser cannon mounted on top to rain fire on the passing torpedoes. Firing from rear to front, the six were taken out.
The final torpedo burst into a nuclear bloom.
Storm let out a yell, and added “What a ride!”
Over their com, a female said, “Nice shooting, Coop. Hope you left a few for us.”
Storm quickly recovered, checked her com-tac display, and said, “There is an unknown ship 40,382 miles from us, closer to the Star Gazer, and, Coop . . .”
“What?” Coop asked. No concern in his tone, having already recognized the voice.
“It looks like Angel.”
Captain Cooper keyed his mike, setting the communications blackout aside, and said, “Sky and Storm, meet Captain Elena Casalobos, Call Sign,
“Demon?” Sky asked.
“Her ship,” Coop explained. “Angel 7’s nasty younger sister.”
_________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________
Aboard PT-109, prior to departure of the return mission to recovery Captain Daniel Cooper.
1:00AM GMT.
The math said the PT-109 would not arrive until fourteen hours after the battle began.
Time was becoming a critical issue.
In seventy-four hours the Primary ships would overtake the Star Gazer in the void between Neptune and the edge of the solar system.
It would take six more hours to prep the 109 for flight and eighty-two hours in space-fold for them to reach the Star Gazer, which steadily moved closer, but at only 40,000mph.
The math said the PT-109 would not arrive until fourteen hours after the battle began.
“Dr. Trent,” Kennedy interrupted his thoughts as he watched the steady stream of equipment and cargo coming aboard the ship. Another hour gone. An hour they would not recover.
“Yes, Kennedy.”
“I have been monitoring the video from the telescope on the Mars 6 satellite, as well as the data streaming from t
he Star Gazer. Captain Cooper obviously considered it vital we remained informed. At current speeds, the warships tracking the Osperantue cruise ship will make contact fourteen hours before we arrive. They appear to be heavily armed. Angel 7 can likely outrun and outmaneuver them, but she will be vastly outgunned.”
“Captain Cooper will not try to outrun them,” Trent said. “Not in his nature.”
“Agreed,” the AI responded. “I have attempted to formulate other options, but have failed. I have even attempted to think of insane solutions, but I do not believe I am human enough.”
“Insane solutions,” Trent repeated. “You only accept you cannot accomplish something, when you accept you are not willing to try.”
The scientist continued to watch dock workers sort cargo, but his eyes focused well beyond the confines of the spaceport.
“Kennedy, contact Admiral Patterson for me. She could still be on Earth, or she might have transferred to the EMS2. I’ll be in C-Tac.”
As Trent made his way, using lifts and through hallways of the 109, Kennedy located Patterson in her cabin aboard the EMS2. Her security personnel taking the call wanted to refuse, trying to allow the Admiral sleep she most likely needed, but Kennedy’s insistence that it was a battle-field request got her through.
When Trent entered C-Tac, Patterson, in a navy blue robe, waited on the SHD forward screen.
“Nathan, I assume this is extremely important. You are not scheduled to leave dock for another four to five hours.”
“Thank you for taking the call, Pam,” using the familiar name, since she started with his. “We cannot get to Coop in time to make a difference. No matter what we try, it isn’t going to happen.”
“Are you suggesting scrubbing the mission?” Patterson asked, more than a bit surprised knowing Trent’s friendship with Cooper.
“I’m suggesting Demon is faster and could get there in time to help. She could make the difference until PT-109 is able to arrive.”
“I thought of sending Demon with you already. She is in dry dock being refitted. I spoke with the head engineer. They can’t put her back together in less than forty-eight hours. She would be days late.”
“Pam, Demon’s sub-light drive and space-fold array are intact. If the engineers double up, and if they start now, and if they forego replacing the torpedoes on board, and forget about the upgrades to the torpedo tubes, they could make her ready in half a day. Thrusters and hover motors have been removed, and the replacements are not ready, but you can tow her off the dock. Once in space, they will have engines and steering.”
Trent moved closer to the screen.
“If you can get a fire under the engineers and the techs, find her crew, and get them on station from their furlough on Earth, then haul her into space in twelve to fourteen hours, with her speed she could be with Angel 7 within two to four hours of the Zenge reaching Coop.”
“Nathan, take a breath. You think Angle 7, who isn’t fitted with torpedoes, and Demon, without torpedoes, can hold off eleven enemy ships until the PT-109 can get there?”
“Cooper stayed behind because it gave the Star Gazer a one-percent better chance of survival. Demon could do the same for him. And one-percent is a lot better than no chance in hell,” the physicist, engineer, and concerned friend responded.
“No promises, Nathan. You will be in space-fold, so whether we can get Demon ready with enough time to make a difference or not, you won’t know until you exit the fold for natural space.”
“Thank you, Pam.”
Patterson cut the video feed, presumably to start ordering personnel aboard the EMS2 to attempt the impossible.
“Thank you, Dr. Trent.”
“You’re welcome, Kennedy. But so you know, I was blowing smoke up the Admiral’s skirt. There is no way they can get Demon ready in time. I was there, and saw her. She’s too far stripped.”
“Then why make the request?”
“Hope . . . and prayer.”
“Interesting,” the AI said. Trent would have sworn the computer generated a bemused tone of voice as she added, “Captain Cooper once told me humans were in charge because sometimes they made insane decisions than would only prove sane at a later date. I hope this qualifies.”
Chapter 40
Demon ran at the torpedoes from low to high. The four laser cannons placed along the front of her wingspan released four bursts each. Eight targets destroyed.
Captain Casalobos maintained her heading. She killed engines to allow Demon to coast to a stop on Angel 7’s port, less than one-hundred feet away.
“Coop,” Elie’s voice came over his com, but the Star Gazer would probably hear her as well. “I have Magpie working double-duty as co-pilot and com-tac. We were on shore-leave when Patterson sent out the recall. Wizard should staff com-tac, but he wasn’t located in time to join us.”
“Welcome, Mags,” Coop said.
“Pleasure,” came the reply.
“Loba, please switch to ship-to-ship, channel 2,” Coop requested, wanting to keep conversations between the two ships private, both to enemy ears, and the Star Gazer. He allowed a couple of seconds for her to switch before continuing. “I’m glad to see both of you, but I have to ask — the 109?”
“Eleven hours out,” Mags replied. “We’re your wingman, Coop. I’m afraid we had to bug out without missiles, or torpedoes.”
“And without maneuvering thrusters, or hover capability,” Elie added.
While they caught up, the three Primary Zenge ships kept moving closer, and began separating. Two headed for them, and one for the Star Gazer.
“Magpie, provide Storm access to your com-tac station. Storm, send our tactical, strategic, and current battle reports to Demon. We are two-hundred-five-minutes into the conflict. The debris is what’s left of two ships, similar to the three that fired the torpedoes we just nixed. There is another enemy ship damaged, heading out of system, and out of the fight.”
“Little Angel kicked serious butt in three hours,” Elie said, impressed.
“Magpie, you should have our info.” He turned to Storm, who gave him a nod. “To this point, our best offense has been hit them with a NNEMP shell from the railgun, and follow up with laser fire or a kinetic rod within three-seconds. The nymph shuts down their electro-magnetic forcefield. The three-second window is what you have until it reestablishes. You get a five-hundred-square-foot target.”
From experience, he knew the two pilots on Demon would be studying the diagrams air-dropped (space-dropped?) to them by Storm.
“The big box on top is a com tower. We assume the command bridge is located there.”
“Nice of them to put it up high. Makes a much cleaner target,” Elie said.
“The smaller box behind the tower is where they keep the dynamo that produces their forcefield. Having the dynamo close allows the forcefield to provide a stronger shield for the command center.”
“Bad design, huh?” Elie responded.
“Good for us. Target the dynamo, take down the forcefield. I have projectiles which will punch holes in those ships big enough to fly Demon through.”
“Since we are working short-handed,” this was from Mags, “I can coordinate the fire pattern and timing through com-tac. Our software is more advanced than Angels. We don’t have the dreaded lapse-in-judgment time. We have two rail-guns to your one. We were forced to bug out without missiles and torpedoes, so we loaded up on tree-huggers and dicks. Our laser cannons can fire longer, wider bursts.”
“All of which means, Demon should take lead, Coop,” Elie said. “You keep the flag, but the distribution of targets should be Demon first, Angel 7 second.”
“Agreed. Demon will engage the two Primaries heading this way. Angel 7 will break off and intercept the one going for the Star Gazer,” Coop said. “Loba, this conflict will be over before Kennedy arrives. Let’s make sure we’re the ones to welcome them.”
“Copy that, Coop. Good hunting. Loba, out.”
Storm took the moment t
o ask, “Are there two females on that ship, or four?”
“Two,” Coop replied. “Captain Elena Victoria Casalobos, whose nickname is Elie, and whose call sign is Loba. Lt. Mary Margaret Moore, whose nickname is Mags, and whose call sign is Magpie. And before you ask, a call sign is a special nickname given to a pilot or navigator by other flyers.”
“How much sex does it take to get a call sign?”
Smiling, and shaking his head, Coop replied, “None. You earn it by being a damn good flyer.”
“What are tree-huggers and dicks?”
Coop had to grin. “Magpie is a special kind of person. A tree-hugger is a NNEMP, the nymph, and a dick is the rod we use as a projectile from the railgun. I’ll explain the connections later. Now quiet and concentrate. We’re ten minutes to firefight.”
Five minutes later Storm urgently called out, “Break Off! Break Off!”
Coop immediately veered starboard, flipped, and circled down, and away from the Zenge. Demon reacted as quickly, with Elie asking, “What? Why?”
Storm came on. “Magpie, check the penetrating scans of the ships you’re tracking. My readings indicate the Zenge have abandoned the bridge and command tower. The second box no longer houses the dynamo. It appears they have a way of dropping the power generator deeper into the ship.”
“Affirmative,” Mags replied. “Same read here. Good catch. And your target just fired off four laser blasts. Looks like they’re heading for the big sphere.”
Cooper said, “I’m letting them through.”
“Repeat, Coop. I thought you said you were NOT, I repeat NOT intercepting those bursts,” from Elie.
“We need to know if the shields on the Star Gazer will perform. They should deflect all four bursts. If they do, it gives us an advantage. If not, we need to know now.”
Storm, monitoring from com-tac, provided the answer. “All bursts deflected. No major damage to Star Gazer. The shields held.”
“Loba, new plan. We can outrun and outmaneuver these ships. We have to hit, hurt, and get out. Target engine sections, located above the exterior vents. First we stop them, then we do what we can to finish them. Copy.”