THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  commodore said,

  glaring at Tobbra. "Can you say status of the type two?"

  "Indomitable, she's full up. Looks like six ship-ways with complete or

  substantially complete vessels, three more at the keel-and-skeleton

  stage."

  Brand shuddered involuntarily. "Vanguard, you are free to engage,

  counterforce protocol. Repeat, free fire--concentrate on the

  T-types--" Tobbra reached out and grabbed Brand above the elbow. "What

  are you doing?"

  With a violent jerk of his arm, Brand broke the first officer's grip.

  "What has to be done," he said. "Confine yourself to your quarters,

  Captain Tobbra. Lieutenant Threld, take the captain's station." He

  turned toward the comm officer. "Let me talk to the attack

  squadrons."

  There was a faint crackle on the K-wing's battle comm as the scrambler

  went active.

  "Here it comes," said Skids.

  "Indomitable to all squadrons," said Brand's voice.

  "I have a revised target appraisal--confirming type two shipyard in

  orbit, with birds in the roost. Confirming three thrustships in

  orbit.

  The patrol has been fired upon. These are your revised targeting

  orders--your primary target is the shipyard. We'll keep the T-types

  busy--you're to ignore them unless they get in the way.

  Flight leaders, commence your attack." After a microscopic pause, he

  added, "Good luck."

  "There they are," Tuketu said as the cockpit was lit up by the distant

  flare of blaster bolts striking ray shields.

  Moments later, the tactical display in the cockpit showed him the

  geometry of the battle. One thrustship was preceding the shipyard in

  its orbit, another trailing behind. The third--most likely the one the

  patrol had first spotted--was docked at the cargo port on the side of

  the great structure.

  "'Good luck'--Tuke, this is crazy," Skids was saying.

  "How are we going to duck three Fat Men?"

  "We'll try the low road," said Tuketu. "Red Flight, this is Red

  Leader. Follow me down to the planet. On the break--now!"

  The Battle of ILC-905 lasted just eleven furioUs, confusing minutes.

  In the first moments, Vanguard fell under a fearful fusillade from both

  the lead and trailing thrustships.

  Even after it began returning fire, it was clearly out-matched in such

  a pairing. The only thing that saved the gunship from a quick end was

  the fact that the individual T-type main batteries were

  medium-cruiser-class at best.

  Nevertheless, each thrustship had eight main batteries, spaced in such

  a way that every approach was covered, and up to four batteries could

  concentrate their fire on a single target. It would not take long for

  the concentrated fire of two such vessels to batter down the gunship's

  shields, and then to destroy it.

  Then Indomitable joined the fight, and the alignment suddenly

  changed.

  "Let's see if we can divide their attention," Brand said. "Vanguard,

  concentrate your fire on the trailer.

  We'll take on the lead ship. All batteries, fire."

  Indomitable's first salvo drew an immediate response from the Yevethan

  vessel, drawing the fire of half a dozen gun batteries. But the

  interceptor screen paid the price--two of the forward interceptors

  exploded, one after the other, as one of the Yevethan batteries

  targeted the tiny escorts. The brilliant flare of light made Brand

  momentarily turn away.

  "Pull the screen back," he snapped. "There's nothing out there they

  can help us with right now."

  Before the fighters could respond, a third fighter exploded just off

  the starboard shield boundary. It was like having a bomb go off at

  close proximity--the cruiser shuddered, and its shields 'glowed a pale

  yellow

  under the assault, signifying a momentary softening at that spot. But

  the shield firmed up quickly, and the remaining interceptors survived

  to slip behind the cruiser and hide in its shield shadow.

  "Commodore," the tactical officer said quietly.

  Brand looked up. "What?"

  "We're not getting through the Fat Man's shields. Vanguard isn't doing

  any better. We may have to redirect the bombers."

  "No," Brand said, shaking his head. "The shipyard is the priority

  target."

  "Commodore, Vanguard's taking a beating. We have to get her some help

  now."

  The cruiser shuddered around them. "Retarget Green Flight," Brand said

  reluctantly.

  By that time, the lead Yevethan vessel had discovered the flights of

  bombers trying to slip past. As though contemptuous of the cruiser's

  ability to harm it, the thrustship diverted its attention to the

  smaller ships, picking off two X-wings and a K-wing almost

  immediately.

  Moments later, it began to launch its own fighters.

  "Brand to all batteries--target those hostile fighters!

  Pick 'em up where they clear the shields."

  "Target is launching missiles," the tactical officer said, drawing a

  deep breath. "Six--eight--ten articles, all tracking this way."

  There were more than twenty fast-firing, fast-track-ing antimissile

  octets arrayed around Indornitable's hull, and those that had a firing

  solution immediately began filling the missiles' projected path with a

  cloud of high-velocity metal shrapnel. When the missiles and the cloud

  met, spectacular flowers of red and yellow fire blossomed silently in

  the vacuum. But four missiles burst through the bouquet like angry

  insects, and three survived to slam in close succession against the

  cruiser's shield perimeter, The bridge lights dimmed as the ship rocked

  under Brand's feet. "Trading punches," Brand said. "Arm and fire six,

  count 'em, six CM-nines. All batteries stand by to target the points

  of impact. Helm, move us closer."

  Within seconds, launchers on both flanks of the cruiser spat out the

  high-velocity concussion missiles.

  They looped toward the thrustship on individual, indirect flight

  profiles meant to make them harder to intercept.

  "Number three particle-shield generator is off-line--we now have zero

  reserve capacity," said the tactical officer. "I count eleven Yevethan

  fighters under way. Green Flight has lost five fighters and two

  bombers.

  Blue Flight has lost three fighters and one bomber.

  Red Flight--" A brilliant flare of light flooded the bridge, drawing

  Brand's eyes to the forward viewscreen. "Was that an egg?"

  "Yes," said the tac officer. "Negative on target.

  That was Green Two---he must have armed it early, and it blew up under

  him. Lost three fighter signals at the same time."

  "Damn."

  "Commodore, Blue Flight has broken through and is making an attack run

  on the shipyard." Pointing to the middle of the plot table, the

  tactical officer identified the two small blue triangles moving toward

  the red rectangle that was the yard.

  Brand nodded grimly and studied the plot. "Good.

  We're running short of pieces," he said. "Send Black Flight to help

  Vanguard. We can't afford to lose that one."

  The orbitaL
shipyard the ImPerial Navy had called Black Nine was unarmed

  but not unprotected. In addition to the collision shields needed by

  any space-based complex, it was equipped with ray and particle shields

  comparable to those of a Star Destroyer.

  Its guardian thrustships, Tholos and Rizaron, more than made up for the

  yard's offensive deficiencies. In addition to eight main batteries,

  each also carried forty

  fighters in four bays along the ship's equator, and four ten-tube

  reloadable missile launchers. With their enhanced Imperial shields,

  they were formidable warships.

  The greatest weakness of Tholos was the inexperience of its primate,

  Par Drann. Like virtually all of his crew, Par Drann had never been in

  combat--not even to the extent of taking part in the Cleansing. So

  when the New Republic ships appeared, Par Drann responded out of the

  old instincts that governed fighting among the nitakka.

  Those instincts, as inherently contradictory as they were innately

  strong, said the closest threat is the greatest threat-in a right of

  unequal numbers, dispatch your weakest opponent first-to discourage

  others from joining a fight against you, charge a newcomer

  immediately-hold nothing back when you go to kill-So it was that Par

  Drann's orders to his gun crews kept changing--to attack the gunship

  that first appeared, then the cruiser that joined the fight, then the

  vulnerable interceptor screen, then the bombers as they flew past, then

  the cruiser again as the bombers retreated.

  The Yevethan fighter pilots obeyed the same dictums, each singling out

  the nearest target and attacking it fearlessly, but often breaking off

  an attack when a closer target appeared.

  If Tholos and Rizaron had continued their combined attack on Vanguard,

  they could have destroyed it before the late-arriving cruiser could do

  either of them harm. If Par Drann had allowed for it, Tholos could

  have swept the battlefield clean of New Republic fighters and bombers

  before turning its attention to Indomitable.

  And if the Yevethan fighters had pursued Blue Flight toward the

  shipyard or Black Flight toward Rizaron, the outcome of the battle

  might have been different.

  But his Yevethan perspective did not allow Par Drann to recognize the

  threat they posed--not with Indomitable bearing down on him.

  "Thetan nitakka, ko nakaza!" he cried. "To the strongest of us, glory

  in the kill!"

  There was fire aboard Vanguard by the time Black Flight attracted the

  notice of Rizaron. Battery number eight, a twin-barrel laser cannon,

  had misfired in a spectacular explosion that gouged the entire gun

  compartment out of the side of the gunship.

  Worse, the snapback from a salvo of Yevethan missiles had left the

  particle-shield generators dead and burning. The next Yevethan missile

  would explode against the hull, not the shields, and the thrustship's

  ion cannon were playing havoc with power all over the ship.

  Captain Inadi viewed the arrival of the bombers with more apprehension

  than relief. "They'll never get through," she said, shaking her

  head.

  "Weapons, keep up the counterfire. Let's help them all we can. Helm,

  show the enemy our minimum cross section. Systems, give priority to

  the forward antimissile stations--they have to have power."

  With the help of telescopic holo and the electronic battle plot, Inadi

  and the bridge crew watched the bombers jinking at high speed through

  the rain of laser blasts and ion bolts. An E-wing accompanying Black

  Two took a direct hit and spun out, burning. Black Three disappeared

  in a sphere of white fire, its escorts peeling away and narrowly

  escaping the hurtling debris.

  Just then, Vanguard shook as though it had been hit.

  "Damage control is reporting that the fire in the generator compartment

  has blown through and ventilated to vacuum."

  "Noted. Weapons, launch all remaining CM-nines," Inadi said with a

  frown. "Maybe we can set her up for the knockout."

  Three missiles leaped from the bow launchers, another four from the

  stern tubes. An eighth, located in a

  launcher adjacent to the destroyed number eight battery, hung up in

  the tube, starting a third fire.

  "Incoming!" shouted the tracking officer.

  The Yevethan thrustship had answered Vanguard's salvo with one of its

  own--a cluster of ten more of the swift, powerful missiles that had

  destroyed the particle-shield generators.

  "Helm, get us out of here," Inadi said grimly.

  "I'll do my best."

  The 190-meter gunship was among the most agile of the New Republic

  capital vessels, but it could not come close to matching the

  acceleration of the enemy missiles. Inadi's hope was that running

  would give the octets at the stern enough time to swat away all of the

  pursuing missiles. As she watched the gap close she regretted not

  having turned the ship sooner.

  "Our CM-nines should reach the target in eight seconds," the tracking

  officer reported. "Bomber escorts have broken off--bombers are

  launching their missiles now. Confirming release of an egg from Black

  One--confirming release of an egg from Black Twenty--" Something struck

  Vanguard astern with so much force that the tactical officer was

  knocked to his hands and knees and Inadi was thrown hard against the

  plot table.

  "Missile impact," the damage control officer called out.

  "Everything's dead back of section forty," the systems officer

  reported.

  "Engines two, four, and six are gone," said the helmsman. "Thrust now

  at one quarter and falling."

  Inadi stared at the plot table as two more fast-moving blips closed on

  her vessel. "Get to the pods," she said hoarsely. "All stations,

  abandon ship--abandon ship--" Her answer was a roaring sound, darkness,

  a fierce light, and, finally, silence.

  Hovering five thousand meters above the barren, pitted surface of

  ILC-905's third planet, Esege Tuketu and the other members of Red

  Flight watched the flashes of light overhead as they waited impatiently

  for their chance.

  The order to stand off had come just as they had begun climbing toward

  the shipyard for their attack run. "Hold your position until we have

  the results of the attacks underway," said the tactical officer. "I

  need something in reserve, and you're it."

  "They'd better leave some for us," Skids said over the bomber's cockpit

  comm on hearing their instructions.

  "We come back with the racks full and no scratches on the paint, and

  we'll never hear the end of it."

  Tuketu said nothing. His eye had been drawn by the first of several

  brilliant explosions, above and port-side of them. "That was an egg,"

  he said, marking the distinctive pure white color of the flash. "And

  another."

  The third explosion was different--smaller and yellower at first, but

  longer-lived, and larger and redder at its peak. As it started to

  fade, there was another series of flashes at nearly the same spot in

  the sky--three small blue-white flashes, then a blood-red irregular />
  billow.

  When Tuketu looked back at his tracking display, both the trailing

  thrustship and Vanguard had disappeared.

  "What was all that?" Skids demanded. "Did we get one, Tuke?"

  "Yeah," said Tuketu. "And so did they."

  Both the successful attack on the second thrustship and the loss of

  Vanguard went nearly ignored on the bridge of Indomitable. The focus

  was the last few seconds of Blue Flight's dive toward the shipyard.

  "Two thousand meters to shield boundary," said the tactical officer.

  "Fighters are pulling out. Fifteen hundred. One thousand. Confirming

  release on Blue

  One--oh, blast, where'd he come from? Negative release on Blue

  Three.

  Somebody got 'im."

  A Yevethan fighter streaking across at right angles to the attack

  vector had fired on Blue Three, first crippling it and then colliding

  with the debris. That tiny explosion was swallowed moments later by

  the detonation of Blue One's egg.

  "Find out if the shields are down," Brand said grimly.

  "Battery four, give me three bursts on the secondary target."