“Order the Orbital Guard to intercept,” she ordered. “And ready back-up forces if they’re required.”
She watched the display, grimly, as red icons roared down to meet green. Her forces were growing tired and making mistakes, the constant tempo wearing them down until they could no longer muster the awareness to fight. If the government had built warships instead things might be different, but her people had always been reluctant to get involved in galactic affairs. Better to have a strong defence, the government had argued, and mind their own business. But the Druavroks couldn't be dissuaded by solid walls, let alone a network of orbital battlestations, automated weapons platforms and a handful of refurbished warships.
There’s definitely something to be said for taking the battle to them, she thought, as more red icons flared into life on the display. The Druavrok missiles didn't seem to be any better than hers, thankfully, but there were a lot of them. This way, they just keep wearing us down until we collapse.
“Matriarch, five of their missiles are targeted on Fabber One,” the hatchling warned. She was young for her role, but the more experienced officers had been farmed out to other positions in the defence grid. Half of them were dead now. “They’re trying to cripple the defences.”
“Order the automated platforms to prioritise defending the fabbers,” Yah-Sin ordered, ignoring the hatchling’s shock. “Nothing else, even the planet itself, is to have a higher priority. The fabbers must be preserved.”
She rubbed her feathers in irritation. There was no choice. Without the fabbers, the defenders would be unable to resupply their missile launchers and keep the enemy from hammering the grid at will. But the Druavroks had effectively cut them off from all sources of raw materials. Her people were working hard to shove debris from the endless battle into their insatiable maws, yet it wasn't enough. The most optimistic projections suggested the planet’s defences would collapse in less than two weeks at most.
And if that happens, we are doomed, she thought. Her people had never been happy on other worlds, even when the Tokomak had introduced them to FTL and showed them the greater universe beyond their atmosphere. There were only a handful of her kind off-world, nowhere near enough to serve as a breeding population. When Dab-Yam dies, we will die with her.
“They’re launching a second set of projectiles,” the hatchling added. “The mass drivers are spitting buckets of rock at us.”
Yah-Sin clacked her beak in acknowledgement. She had to give the Druavroks credit; they weren't known for being imaginative, but they’d come up with a cheap way to keep her defences on their toes. Bombarding the planet with mass drives seemed like an exercise in futility when pitted against modern defences, yet they forced her to keep her crews on their toes, blasting the projectiles - which were little more than scaled-up rocky KEWs - into vapour. And a single failure would mean planetary devastation on a terrifying scale.
“Keep the defences online and engage them as soon as they come into range,” she ordered, tiredly. She needed to sleep too. “And alert me when they bring their fleet back into engagement range.”
***
“We’re reading Point Tsushima, Commander,” Markham said. “FTL drive is ready to disengage.”
Griffin nodded. The fleet - over two thousand starships - was flying in such close formation that the Druavroks shouldn’t be able to notice when a relative handful of ships dropped out of FTL, while the remainder continued to blaze towards the planet. Or, at least, that was the plan. It was the least of his quibbles with the whole operation that Task Force 6.1 would be completely out of touch with the rest of the fleet, leaving them to carry out their orders without knowing what had happened to Captain Stuart. If something went wrong ...
“Disengage on the mark,” he ordered. “And then prepare to start deploying the mines.”
“Aye, Commander,” Markham said. The freighter shuddered, violently, as she dropped back into realspace. “FTL disengagement, complete.”
Griffin tapped his console, hastily. The remainder of the Task Force had made it out of FTL without incidents ... but then, he’d taken care to select the most reliable freighters after the first battle. Markham wasn't the only one who wanted a little revenge. He established the datanet, checked for emergency messages, then smiled coldly to himself.
“Start deploying the minefield,” he said. “And once the mines are in place, ready the gravity-wave projector.”
And hope to hell the Captain is right, he added, mentally. Because this could easily go very wrong.
***
“Task Force 6.1 separated successfully,” Brown reported. “Twenty minutes to designated emergence point.”
Hoshiko nodded, allowing herself a moment of relief. Even a tiny misjudgement could have scattered Task Force 6.1 over hundreds of thousands of kilometres, ensuring that setting up the ambush would be worse than useless. No one, not even Mongo Stuart himself, could have retrieved the situation. But Wilde was now in place to kick some enemy ass, once she lured them into position.
“Take us out when we reach the designated emergence point,” she ordered. She glanced at the reporter, sitting at the rear of the compartment, and shot him a reassuring smile before turning back to the display. “Give me a countdown when we reach two minutes to emergence.”
She studied the display for a long moment, silently calculating possible enemy responses and wishing, again, that someone had invented an FTL sensor. The Druavroks would see them coming, of course, but what would they do? Assemble their fleet to fight off the threat, assume it was too powerful and retreat, or ... what? Wait and see what arrived? They’d be fairly sure her fleet was mostly freighters ...
Which won’t matter, she reminded herself. They’ll have good reason to know there’s a fleet attacking them that includes thousands of freighters.
“Five minutes, Captain,” Brown said. “Countdown starting ... now.”
“Sound Red Alert,” Hoshiko ordered. “All hands to Condition One. I say again, all hands to Condition One.”
The final seconds counted down and the fleet burst back into realspace. Hoshiko leaned forward as the display began to fill up with icons: red for the Druavroks, yellow for the Dab-Yam ... she hoped - prayed - that the Dab-Yam recognised them as friendly. She had no intention of taking her ships anywhere near the planet’s defences until they’d opened communications, but the risk of friendly fire was dangerously high.
And they may not be too keen on aliens these days, she thought, as she took in the defences as they appeared on the display. Dab-Yam had nine battlestations and hundreds of automated weapons platforms, although the analysts thought they were slowly being ground down by the Druavroks. They might just mistake us for a second predatory alien race.
“Long-range sensors are detecting over fifty battleships and four hundred smaller warships,” Brown reported. “They also have mass driver installations on the moons and smaller starships in the asteroid belt.”
“Order Task Force 4.1 to cloak, as per Deployment Plan Beta,” Hoshiko said, as the Druavroks hastily assembled a formation. They didn't seem to have been moving before her fleet actually arrived, something that puzzled her until she realised they’d probably expected her to drop out of FTL closer to the planet. “The remainder of the fleet is to prepare to engage the enemy.”
Let them think we intend to fight a conventional engagement, she reminded herself. She had no idea if the Druavroks had ever heard of Napoleon, but they would certainly have read Tokomak tactical manuals. They’ll be happy to sit back and let us make a mistake.
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. “They’re sweeping us with long-range sensors.”
“Spoof their ECM as much as possible,” Hoshiko said. She doubted the Druavroks would be intimidated, even if she pretended her entire fleet was composed of battleships, but at least she could keep them guessing. Besides, if they thought they held an unbeatable edge, they’d be less likely to do something unpredictable. “And launch probes towards their format
ion.”
She glanced at the display, then keyed her console. “Have you managed to get through to the planet?”
“Negative, Captain,” Yeller said. “The Druavroks aren't using jamming, as far as I can tell, but we’re not getting any response, even using the Tokomak protocols. It’s possible the command and control network has been altered or disrupted by the fighting.”
“Or that they’re not interested in talking,” Hoshiko said. Everything she’d read about the Dab-Yam race had made it clear that they weren’t particularly sociable. She certainly hadn't been able to avoid thinking that they looked like giant chickens, complete with feathers and eggs. “Keep trying to get through to them.”
“Aye, Captain,” Yeller said.
Hoshiko watched grimly as the seconds ticked away. Allowing the Druavroks a chance to mass their forces was a gamble, although she knew she couldn't have destroyed a smaller enemy force before its allies arrived to even the odds. The Druavroks certainly didn't seem inclined to give her an incentive to move faster ... she smiled, rather thinly. Napoleon had been quite right, after all. Why interrupt the enemy when he was in the process of making a mistake?
She studied the long-range readings grimly. Dab-Yam itself might be largely intact, but the Druavroks had ravaged the rest of the system badly. There had been colonies on the outer worlds, according to the files, that no longer existed. Her probes revealed craters on the surface where the colonies had been. A number of asteroid settlements were gone - she hoped they hadn't been directed at the planet to force the defenders to waste their firepower - and the cloudscoop the Tokomak had established, centuries ago, was nothing but debris. The Druavroks must have been frustrated, she decided. They certainly hadn't tried to put the cloudscoop to use.
And the planet must be running short of HE3 too, she thought, morbidly. She’d heard stories of energy shortages from her grandfather and the other old sweats, but she’d never really believed them. Energy in the Solar Union was cheap, clean and limitless. And yet, it all depended on a supply of HE3 that could be easily interrupted. Dab-Yam was completely dependent on the cloudscoop, unless the locals could find another source. They must be refining it from seawater, if they can.
“The enemy fleet has formed up, Captain,” Brown reported. “We will be entering our missile range in seven minutes; enemy missile range in nine minutes.”
Hoshiko smiled, coldly. The Druavroks, like everyone else, had copied the Tokomak missiles, but humanity - and now its allies - had improved upon the original designs. She doubted her first barrage would do that much damage, not when pitted against a colossal fleet of battleships, yet it would give the enemy a nasty shock.
“Prepare to engage,” she ordered.
***
“They’re claiming to be part of a ... a Grand Alliance,” the hatchling said. “They say they’re here to fight the Druavroks.”
“We shall see,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said.
The awe in the hatchling’s voice was understandable, but she couldn't allow herself to share in his delight - and hope. The newcomers had an impressive fleet, yet only a tiny percentage of it was composed of actual warships. She had a feeling the Druavroks would tear the fleet apart, if it came down to a real fight, and then resume their attack on her homeworld. The only advantage she could glean from the whole affair was a chance to reload some of the automated weapons platforms.
“We could fire missiles into their position,” the hatchling suggested eagerly. “Make them deal with two threats at once.”
“No,” Yah-Sin ordered. She understood the impulse, but she couldn't allow it to rule her thoughts. “We hold our fire.”
She ignored his squawk of indignation. She wanted to help, but what could they do? There was no way her forces could make a difference, not when the Druavroks were careful not to come too close to her missile-armed battlestations. It was possible, she supposed, that they would be distracted if she attacked, but she dared not waste the missiles trying to tip the balance. All she could do was watch, wait and take what advantage of the pause she could.
“Scramble the commando teams,” she ordered. The Druavroks had been prowling space too closely for her to risk sending commandoes to the lunar bases, but now ... now she could take the chance of dispatching them. It would win the planet some more time. “The enemy are distracted and now we hunt.”
She clacked her beak, then looked at the display. There was no way to help the newcomers, whatever they claimed to represent. She just hoped - prayed - that they had a few tricks hidden in their feathers ...
... Because, as far as she could see, they were dangerously outgunned.
***
“Entering missile range, Captain,” Brown reported. His voice was very flat, a sure sign he was trying hard to keep it under control. “Weapons locked on targets; combat datanet up and running.”
“Fire,” Hoshiko ordered. “I say again, fire at will.”
She watched, feeling a cold exultation, as her ships began to fire. It hadn't been hard to mount missile launchers on freighter hulls, even though reloading them during a battle would be next to impossible. The display fuzzed for a long moment as the missiles were launched, so many missiles appearing on the sensors that it looked like she’d hurled an entire wall at the Druavroks, then reset itself, silently informing her that over nine thousand missiles were roaring towards their targets. There were so many missiles that the command network was having trouble organising them into squadrons and pointing them towards their targets. It was probably a trick of her mind, but she could have sworn she saw the enemy ships flinch.
“The enemy are deploying ECM drones,” Brown reported. “And they’re charging forward.”
Hoshiko nodded, irked. The enemy CO was no fool - and clearly not inclined to panic, either. Advancing towards her wall of missiles looked stupid, on the face of it, but it was his wisest course of action. It would give him a chance to bring her ships into his missile range before he started losing ships to her missiles. She mentally saluted her foe, then looked at Brown.
“We will proceed to Deployment Pattern Beta,” she said. “All ships are to reverse course and head out along the pre-planned route; I say again, all ships are to reverse course and head out along the pre-planned route.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. New icons flared to life on the display. “Enemy ships are firing missiles.”
“Clever bastard,” Hoshiko muttered. Using antimatter shipkiller missiles - even straight nuclear warheads - would allow them to take out bunches of her missiles. It would be costly, but missiles were cheaper than warships and took much less time to build. “Order the missile command network to compensate.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. “The network is already altering targeting patterns.”
But there are limits to just how much they can alter course, Hoshiko reminded herself. She’d assumed as much, when she’d been drawing up her plans, but it was still galling to watch it happen. The enemy are going to kill a lot of missiles.
Brown looked up, alarmed. “Enemy missiles are detonating now.”
Hoshiko watched, grimly, as hundreds of missiles died, but there were thousands left to close in on their targets. The Druavroks had clearly been drilling hard - if she’d wanted confirmation they knew what had happened to Malachi, it was right there in front of her - and yet it still wasn't enough. Their ECM was no match for human-grade sensors. They might as well not have bothered launching decoy drones. She sucked in her breath with savage glee as nineteen battleships and over a hundred smaller ships were blown into flaming plasma, dozens of other ships staggering out of formation as they were badly damaged. One ship even exploded, two minutes after the last missile slammed into its hull.
Must have skimped on antimatter safety, Hoshiko thought, vindictively. It was odd - no one would ever accuse the Tokomak of not taking every last precaution they could - but she couldn't think of another explanation. A nuke, detonating inside a battleship hull, wouldn’t destroy the
ship, merely do a great deal of damage. Or maybe it was just a lucky shot.
“The enemy fleet is picking up speed,” Brown reported. He sounded torn between relief and fear. “They’re launching probes and targeting missile locks on us.”
“Let them follow us,” Hoshiko ordered. The Druavroks had to be mad. She had no idea what their superiors would say to a CO who’d lost a dozen battleships to an inferior fleet, but she doubted it would be pleasant. “And prepare to drop back into FTL.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A number of senior government officials and their families fled California today, flying directly to Texas. Texan forces sealed off the airport where they landed and took them into custody. Further details have not yet been released by the Texan authorities, but sources in California suggest that the provisional government has collapsed into chaos in the wake of the latest water shortage.
The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) Page 23