by Kris Powers
“Yes,” she said, quietly. Before she could continue, her earpiece chirped. “Excuse me for a moment. I imagine this is in regards to certain extensions for a deadline.”
Nadine got up from her chair and took a corner of the room. She conducted a hushed conversation with her communications device while dividing her attention between it and the conversation going on at the table.
“I hope you like the next course as much as this one. It’s called lasagna. It has more cheeses in it,” Elliot said to his two guests.
“I’m starting to like you Elliot,” Ranik said.
“Admiral, I appreciate your hospitality, given what we have done, however unintentional it was,” Lathiel said.
“We can speak on that later. In the meantime we have more local concerns. Lathiel our two nations are under a great deal of stress right now. We,” he was cut off by his, Joshua, and Madison’s earpieces going off. All three stopped eating and thumbed them on. They listened for a moment while Ranik and Lathiel waited patiently. They acknowledged the officer on the other end and turned the devices off.
“Joshua, you know what to do,” Elliot said.
“I’m on it,” he said and turned to the aliens. “It was good to meet you.”
Lathiel and Ranik smiled at Joshua in thanks as he exited.
“Do you need any help here?” Madison asked Elliot.
“No, go with Joshua. Convince them to send the recall order.”
Madison nodded and got up to leave. She walked to a place that put her between the two aliens and placed an arm on each of their shoulders.
“Thank—you,” she said.
“For?” Lathiel inquired.
“For giving me hope,” Madison responded and left the room. The two Ferine looked at each other in confusion. Before they could ask Elliot what she meant, Nadine returned to the dining table.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I have urgent business to attend to. Admiral Fredericks, I need a shuttle immediately.”
“An officer will escort you to the nearest one.”
“Thank—you,” Nadine said with a somber disposition. “It was a pleasure to meet you Lathiel and you as well Ranik. Please accept my apologies for my departure.”
“Accepted,” the two Ferine replied.
“Admiral, I would have liked to have stayed but circumstances have changed. I’m sure you understand.”
“All too well,” he nodded to her with an empathetic smile. She turned and left the room.
“Fast dinner we had,” Ranik observed.
“I’m sorry, Ranik. There are things going on here that you are unaware of. If you like, I will continue as your host and fill you in on some of them.”
Three attendants entered with large dishes of lasagna, filling the room with its inviting smell.
“We’d like that,” Lathiel said.
Nadine fell into the seat next to her escort as he activated the shuttle for launch. She relaxed in the humming ship as it rose from the deck and exited the shuttle bay. It followed its course out into the night and towards the center of the cloud of Coalition warships.
Elliot was a formidable person. He had cut through her barriers and barbs to the heart of the situation. Now she would have to contact MERA in order to extend a fixed deadline. The Alliance shuttle sped through numerous obstacles and arrived to her flagship. She thanked her courier and disembarked from the shuttle.
Nadine marched through corridors to General Park’s private office. She sat down at his small desk, surrounded by claustrophobic walls. She punched in her private code to the Twelve. Catherine’s face of surprise and disapproval met hers.
“Again you break with tradition, Nadine. Do I need to reduce you to the rank of student again?”
“Catherine, you need to rescind the deadline. Our suspicions are true. I have met the aliens. They are called Ferine and they are definitely extraterrestrial.”
“You’re serious?”
“That is why I broke our traditions. This is an emergency.”
“Then circumstances have changed. The order has been given, but the battle may have already begun.”
The Battle at Outpost Fourteen reflects the hard stance adopted by both nations against any form of retreat. The Alliance and the Coalition solidly believed that the first to blink was the weaker opponent. This juvenile philosophy can be traced back to the three way conflict that existed with the Easter Island Agreements. Some have pointed to the E.I.A.’s strategy of prodding both enemy nations into standoffs so as to place them in a position where pride would result in heavy losses as the origin of this long adopted stance.
Order From Chaos: A Look Into The Politics of 2299
by Chris Leacock
Chapter VII
Maria sat in her command chair and watched one of the Coalition’s boxy olive carriers disgorge a dozen fighters, each sixty feet in length, from one of its many narrow hangars.
“Prepare for combat,” she ordered. “All ships proceed in standard formation and await further orders.”
Maria’s second in command joined her at the left side of the captain’s chair. Phelps fingered his thick brown mustache while he studied the situation.
“Odd, isn’t it?”
“Yes, why would they launch so few fighters? Between their three carriers they have fifteen hundred. Bring up tactical,” she said to the weapons officer at the station behind her.
The main screen view receded to the top of the large screen and became one of half a dozen smaller squares lining its top. A three dimensional view of local space rotated on it axis showing her ships in blue confronting the group of Coalition ships in red. The red group’s shape was transforming.
“How long until they’re in attack range?”
“In less than three minutes,” Ben Phelps replied.
“No change of orders or word of reinforcements?”
“None that I know of, Sir. The last time I inquired they said no other warships were available.”
“They’re switching to a different formation.”
The warships represented by small red computer models moved and shifted position to a three dimensional inverted crescent. The three enemy carriers moved back to the rear of the formation.
“It looks like a minor variation on a normal assault tactic.”
“I know, but there are subtle differences. It’s odd like you’ve said.”
“They’ll be in optimum attack range in two minutes,” her weapons master said.
“Who’s the commander of their fleet?” she asked. Phelps pulled a link from his pant pocket and brought the information up in seconds.
“Major General Henderson.”
“It must be my birthday. He’s a notoriously overconfident strategist,” she said.
“That helps us?”
“I recognize this now. A victorious commander used a similar tactic over two millennia ago. He probably believes that no one else reads history. Look there,” she said, indicating the dense center of the enemy’s formation. “No more than twelve fighters launched and what appears to be a weakness to flanking on the outskirts of their fleet.”
“They want us to outflank them.”
“Yes, but as we attempt to do so their ships will begin to move out in what would appear to be a counter to that flank.”
“They’ll run out of ships and expose their carriers.”
“Not if they launch all of their fighters at that moment,” Maria said, indicating the tall box shapes of the carriers.
“We’d be surrounded. They wouldn’t even need all of their fighters to get the job done.”
“An ancient strategy,” she said. “He’s already over a barrel. Henderson just doesn’t know it yet. When will the Coalition force be in attack range?”
“In thirty seconds.”
“All ships are to maintain present formation. Helm, bring the Excalibur to the front of our lines.”
“Aye, Sir,” the helmsman replied. The ship began to move immediately, passing the
many winged silver frigates towards the edge of the sphere.
Maria’s first officer took his place at her side. She whispered a series of commands into his ear. He nodded and looked to the main screen in a state of disbelief. The ship’s movement stopped with over a hundred Coalition ships filling the screen in their ancient formation.
“All available power to the forward shields!” Phelps ordered.
“The enemy is approaching optimum attack range,” her weapon’s officer reported.
“Don’t fire,” she ordered to the officers across the group, listening through her earpiece. “All particle beam cannons may fire at will after their fleet has the first shot. Hold all torpedo fire until I give the command.”
The Coalition frigates of the forward line grew larger on the screen. Bright stars of light formed across their bows.
“Their weapons are hot.”
“Prepare to fire,” Maria said.
Emerald pulses of energy and orange torpedoes emerged from the hulls of over thirty war ships. They detonated across the Alliance ship’s shields.
“Forward ships open fire,” Maria commanded.
“Fire all PBCs,” Phelps echoed to the Excalibur’s crew.
Green lances of energy shot out and burdened the Coalition warship’s glowing shields.
“Advance at five hundred miles per hour. Keep our carriers covered and launch all fighters,” Maria said.
Every engine port of the Alliance battle group flared to blue starlight. The silver warships crowded into the fray and met with fire from the olive hulls of the enemy ships. Five hundred grey Alliance fighters poured from the wide maw of their carrier and took up protective positions within the fleet.
“All fighter squadrons move to the forward lines at center.”
Outside the reinforced hull of the Excalibur, a legion of small fighters, resembling twenty-first century drones, moved at high speeds to take up positions within the nose of the battle group protruding into the enemy fleet.
“Fighters, support the warships with your guns but do not use your ordinance.”
The powerful fighters’ small cannons joined the chorus of the larger cannons from the warships. The fifty foot long fighters nimbly evaded fire while scored hits brightened the shields of the heavier fleet vessels.
“They are presenting a weakness at their flanks,” one of the analysts at a large tactical situation station reported.
“Let’s appear to take advantage of it. Instruct the frigates Avenger and Raptor to attempt to flank them.”
Her orders were relayed to the warships which maneuvered their eight hundred foot bulks towards the edges of the Coalition fleet. In response the crescent expanded slightly.
“The Coalition fleet has expanded their lines,” the analyst reported.
“Henderson’s ego has probably inflated to the size of his ship by now,” Maria said to Phelps. “It’s time for a needle.”
Phelps smiled at the expression. Maria leaned forward and brought up the tactical display on the two by two foot console in front of her command chair. She indicated a series of coordinates to Phelps. The coordinates covered a corridor through the enemy fleet.
“Tell our ships to target these areas with their torpedoes. Have them set all their warheads for a proximity detonation.” Maria said.
“They won’t do much damage with a proximity fuse.”
“They don’t have to. I only need to confuse their sensors for a few seconds. All of our ships will follow up by discharging their primary plasma cannons. They can target whomever they choose. I want them confused, Phelps.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he turned halfway from her and relayed orders to the rest of the group via his earpiece.
“Helmsman, what is the safest maximum speed you can navigate with enemy obstacles of equal speed and maneuverability?”
“About a thousand clicks per hour,” he replied.
“Be ready to bring the ship to that speed when I give the command.”
“Stand by to fire torpedoes,” Maria said into her earpiece. The battling ships exchanged storms of particle bursts. Every ship had a glowing ghost image around its hull absorbing fire. The fleet advanced at its set speed and met the edge of the enemy formation.
“Now!”
Over a hundred orange globes of flame catapulted into the enemy formation. All of them converged on the coordinates that Maria had indicated and burst into a firestorm. The flames formed the outer edges of a corridor through which a ship could pass.
“Helm, one thousand kph through that corridor,” she said.
“Aye!”
The Excalibur charged the enemy lines to the shock of the Coalition commander. Its great long bulk flew down a passage surrounded by explosions provided by the Excalibur’s allies.
“All fleet ships but the Excalibur: fire primaries now!” she barked. Nearly sixty beams of blond star fire spewed from the bows of the Alliance fleet. Only the Excalibur and the carriers remained silent. The comets of searing plasma slammed into the Coalition’s first line. Nearly twenty of their frigates suffered internal explosions from shield overloads. Bulkheads collapsed and rooms were shredded by generators’ booming death rattles. The enemy’s first line faltered in the wake of the blinding onslaught from the recharging heavy batteries.
“Fire all PBCs at will,” Maria said to her weapons officer. The speeding cruiser discharged emerald star light at the enemy ships in its range, further bewildering the Coalition fleet. Inner line destroyers slowly turned on their axes to confront the interloper.
“We’ve confused the second line but the third line’s weapons are hot,” her port tactical analyst said.
“We still have the time we need.”
Ahead of them three tall carriers were in the distance and growing larger by the second. A group of sharp edged destroyers and long—necked frigates began to glow from their weapon ports.
“Ready all of our plasma cannons,” Maria commanded. The voice of the weapons officer answered from behind her.
“Standing by, which target?”
“Target the three enemy carriers.”
“I’ve got them.”
Maria watched as the ship broke right of an intercepting cruiser on the screen. The shields absorbed a pulsed broadside to its forward shields. Maria felt the ship tremble in response. She spotted a frigate on the main monitor flying at a desperate speed to intercept the Excalibur.
“Shields are holding,” her weapons master reported.
Maria regarded the carriers in the distance, now nearer and unobstructed, but a group of frigates had detached from their positions and were moving to stop the Excalibur.
“Fire primaries.”
Two great comets of bright yellow fire roared from the center sections of each of the Excalibur’s thick wings. A third blossomed from the nose of the elongated metal bow.
The wing section’s emissions sped through empty space and cut through both carriers’ shields, hitting them midway up the bow. The star fire screamed through bulkheads and hull—bearing struts. The center line of the long olive carriers exploded in flame sequentially from their bows to their sterns.
Scorched generators exploded, vaporizing attack craft, resembling green twentieth century jet fighters, in burning hangars. Debris shot through walls and doors, holing the ships inside their thick hulls. The sub—light furnaces leaked flame before tearing themselves to pieces. Their fury blew each of the carriers into fragments.
The third comet from Excalibur’s bow reached through space to the lead carrier. As the beam neared its target, a great olive streak eight hundred feet long blurred across the weapon’s path.
The plasma beam struck the Coalition frigate amidships causing its port shield to fail under the onslaught. The frigate’s military green hull buckled under the weapon’s power. The stern and bow of the ship turned to meet each other as the explosive force halved the ship. Maria slammed a fist on her square console.
“Damn!”
&
nbsp; “Admiral we have eliminated two of their carriers. We can turn back now,” Phelps said.
“They can still surround us with the five hundred fighters they have left.”
“What can we do?”
Maria regarded their headstrong flight towards the carrier for a moment. More ships had come in to protect the last carrier presenting more obstacles. She felt the ship shudder as they began to voice their dissatisfaction with her advance.
“How long until the plasma cannons are recharged?”
“Four minutes,” her weapon’s officer replied.
Maria buried her chin into her fist.
“There is no other way.”
“What?” Phelps asked.
Maria stood up from her seat. “Weapons station, divert all remaining power to the shields. Set weapons to automatic and program the computer to concentrate forward fire on the intercepting ships.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Maria waited a moment for her instructions to be carried out before she spoke again.
“Abandon ship!” she exclaimed and slapped a button on the arm of her chair. The ship’s intercom emitted a continuing series of klaxons. People rushed for the doors of the bridge. Phelps walked calmly towards the exit and then stopped once he saw Maria striding towards the empty helm console. He rushed back for her.
“Ma’am!”
“Go Phelps, I have a few things left to do,” she said.
“I won’t allow it.”
“Yes, you will. It’s the only way to destroy that carrier and ensure our victory,” Maria replied.
“You need a backup. You might be injured or incapacitated.”
“I won’t risk anyone else. Go.”
“You need me,” he said.
“Go, or I’ll have someone back to escort you.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good soldier, now get out of here.”
“Admiral?”
“What Phelps?”
“It has been an honor serving with you.”
“I have no intention of dying here.” Maria nodded towards the command chair. “I’ll use the command pod.”
“Good idea,” he said and smiled.