by Dietmar Wehr
“Yes, SIR!” The tactical officer’s newfound enthusiasm was not only impossible to ignore, it was also annoying. He clearly didn’t appreciate the fact that his admiral might have just signed his death warrant.
It didn’t take long for his fleet to get back into a viable firing position. The second volley was fired and thirteen seconds later, Wellington’s fears were realized.
“Missile launch! Multiple missiles! Missile count is eight hundred sixteen! Repeat, eight hundred sixteen missiles now inbound! ETA in six hundred ten seconds!”
Wellington nodded his acknowledgement, not trusting his voice to hide his fear. In just over ten minutes his fleet would be fighting for its life. If the enemy commander was smart, and so far he hadn’t done anything to disprove that assumption, he would have ordered his missiles to concentrate on only a portion of Wellington’s heavy cruisers in order to overwhelm their defensive fire. And that meant that Intransigent could be one of those targets. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Can we evade their volley with a vector change like they did?” he asked the tactical officer.
The Lieutenant checked his console. “I’m afraid not, Admiral. Their volley is actually segregating into two distinct groups, each with a slightly different trajectory, that will bracket us. At least one of those groups will get within terminal guidance correction range no matter what we do now. They’ve just done to us what we did to them. The best we could do is minimize their interception probability by dropping acceleration down to ten percent of maximum. That way we’ll stay out of range of one group and only be barely within range of the other. Some of their missiles might miss, and our anti-missile defenses will have more time for interceptions.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” said Wellington. “Reduce acceleration to ten percent. I want missile defense systems double checked, Lieutenant. Make sure every ship’s systems are online and synchronized.”
It quickly became clear that the enemy fleet had decided to take their chances with Wellington’s second volley, which would intercept them in just under eight minutes. The enemy’s volley would reach the Atlantian fleet two minutes later. Those eight minutes were excruciating for Wellington. The lower acceleration had meant that his ships could not fire a third volley, but neither had the enemy fleet fired a second. Both sides seemed to be waiting to see how their missile volleys panned out.
By tracking the gravity wakes of his 648 missiles, it was possible to tell if the enemy fleet had stopped any of them with counter-missiles or laser fire. With less than 30 seconds to go before the Atlantian missiles reached their targets, the number of gravity wakes started to fall quickly. Wellington resisted the impulse to hold his breath again. Less than 300 made it all the way by the time the ETA to target timer reached zero. The number of gravity wakes being generated by the enemy fleet dropped from 34 to 21, but 8 of those 21 were no longer decelerating as rapidly as the rest. The sidebar showed that 13 enemy battlecruisers were probably crippled or destroyed, with 8 more damaged. The question was how damaged? Both of his volleys had spent themselves now; the first one had simply missed altogether. With the enemy’s volley bearing down on Intransigent and the rest of his fleet, Wellington was feeling a growing sense of impending doom. The action began with 55 seconds left until impact
“Counter-missiles have fired!” shouted the tactical officer. “Laser clusters are tracking! Lasers will fire in twenty-two seconds!”
Wellington put his pressure suit helmet on, having remembered to put the suit on earlier. He tried to suppress the claustrophobic feeling that the helmet generated in order to concentrate on the sidebar indicator showing how many of the 408 missiles in the nearest group had not yet been intercepted. The number was already down to 377 and dropping. When the laser fired, the number dropped suddenly from 334 to 188, but time to impact was now less than ten seconds. When the timer hit zero, the number of missiles dropped from 44 to zero and nothing seemed to happen. Intransigent had not been targeted, but other heavy cruisers had.
“Twenty-six ships have been hit, Admiral! I’ll have more precise data shortly!”
Wellington looked at the main display. His fleet had 54 ships before the impact. Seven were simply gone, having been blown apart. Nineteen more were still intact, but all of them had stopped accelerating and were falling behind the undamaged ships. A thought surfaced in Wellington’s awareness. Keep the fleet together if at all possible.
“Cut fleet acceleration to zero,” ordered Wellington. “Let’s not get too far ahead of our damaged ships while we evaluate the situation.”
He waited while the TO gathered as much data on the damaged ships as he could, while also calculating tactical options for firing again on the enemy fleet. Roughly one third of the enemy fleet and roughly half of Wellington’s main body—not counting TF1—had been either destroyed or was unable to use their L-drives. He realized that he hadn’t thought about TF1 for quite a while. They were still accelerating as ordered, and the enemy fleet was still closing the range.
Wellington decided that sitting there at his Command Station and waiting was pointless. He took his helmet off, unbuckled himself and stepped over to the Tactical Station where the surprised Lieutenant looked up at him.
“I’ll have a complete damage summary for you in another minute, Admiral.”
Wellington shook his head. “Just tell me what you know right now.”
“Yessir. Seven ships destroyed. Another thirteen badly damaged, unable to move or fire. Six more have taken light to moderate damage, but all six are unable to accelerate. Twenty-eight ships are undamaged. If we resume maximum acceleration, and if the enemy fleet maintains its trajectory, we should be able to get a firing solution again. They’ll also be able to fire at us again, and because of the tactical geometry, they’ll be able to fire before we can, Admiral. We’re almost in a stern chase now as far as firing solutions go.”
Wellington nodded. He understood the implications of a stern chase. Missiles fired from the ship doing the chasing had to try to reach a target that was moving away. Missiles from the ship being chased could cover the intervening distance to their target much faster and easier because the target was itself coming closer. And while time to impact was less, so was the chance of successfully evading that impact.
Wellington suddenly felt very tired. The adrenaline rush resulting from the first enemy volley was wearing off. He tried to think of a way that his fleet could either out-fight or out-maneuver the enemy forces, but nothing came to mind. That left just one option: roll the dice and go after them while he still had a chance.
“I don’t see any other alternative than getting back into firing position and taking our chances. Do you, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir,” said the officer in a low voice. “They have so much overtake velocity that if we don’t re-engage them now, we’ll lose them.”
“Precisely. Have our third volley ready to fire the second we’re in range. Let the AO know what we need to do to achieve that.”
“Yes, sir.”
While the new orders were being disseminated to those ships that could still maneuver, Wellington arranged for a video conference with the captains of the ships that would have to be left behind.
“Those of you who still have EG-drives, take on the crews of the cripples and get back to Avalon orbit as quickly as you can. If we can’t stop the enemy fleet, they’ll come back to Avalon, and if the odds are unfavorable, you have my permission to surrender. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Captain Jenkins, as the most senior officer of the group, you’ll assume command in my absence. Good luck to us all. Wellington clear.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wellington stared at the main display in shock. He had expected Sierra1, as the enemy force was now designated, to leave its cripples behind and continue accelerating to intercept TF1. Instead, Sierra1 was decelerating, thereby letting its cripples pull away on momentum while it turned to fight Wellington’s group.
Maybe he’s
coming after MY cripples. It was a disturbing thought. If Delisani had sent his fleet to conquer Avalon and hold it, his fleet commander would not want an undamaged Atlantian task force getting away. On the other hand, if the goal was simply to destroy the King’s Navy and then leave the field of battle, taking out the Wellington’s cripples and his reduced fleet first actually made some sense. But if that was the case, why did Sierra1 go after TF1 in the first place?
Wellington turned to the tactical officer. “Lieutenant, put yourself in the position of Sierra1’s fleet commander. Why would you want to do what he’s doing?”
“I’ll need to do some calculations in order to answer that question, Admiral.”
“Then do them as quickly as you can.”
The answer came back faster than Wellington expected.
“Sierra1’s cripples have enough overtake to get within firing range of TF1 before they reach uber-space velocity, Admiral. His maneuver would make sense if he feels he has enough combat power in those cripples to take out TF1. By coming back at us, he’s throwing down the gauntlet. Either we accept the challenge and fight it out, or we veer off and he goes after our cripples.”
“Yes, that does make sense. How soon until we can fire?”
“Not long now, Admiral. Less than two minutes for us. He’ll be able to fire in…” he checked his console, “thirty-four seconds.”
“Wonderful,” said Wellington sarcastically. “Better get your helmet back on Lieutenant,” he said as he reached for his own.
Sierra1 fired their second volley right on schedule. The intervening distance was a lot lower now, and ETA was just over three minutes. At least we’ll get to fire back twice before then. The thought was small comfort. His group might have to face three enemy volleys depending on how fast Sierra1’s ships could reload.
Intransigent was not so lucky the second time around. An enemy missile detonated close enough to turn the flagship into a coasting wreck. The concussion was so violent that Wellington was certain he’d sustained internal injuries in spite of his chair’s shock harness. Something was wrong with his left eye too. Not that it mattered much since all but emergency power was gone. The main display was dark, and as far as he could tell, the rest of the personnel on the Flag Bridge were either dead or badly injured. As far as he was concerned now, the third enemy volley couldn’t come soon enough. As he waited for the sweet oblivion to overtake him, he felt at peace. At least he hadn’t disgraced himself by running away. He hoped King Trevor would recognize that and not vent his anger on Wellington’s family. The third volley hit just as he was telling his distant wife how much he loved her.
Trevor started to shiver, and it wasn’t because he was cold. The large display at Fleet Command was revealing just how big of a disaster was unfolding before his eyes. Wellington’s main force was gone, including the cripples that had been caught trying to get back to Avalon orbit. The enemy commander’s own damaged ships had been able to get within firing range of TF1, and all 18 gravity wakes of that force had disappeared. Either the ships were destroyed outright or were unable to maneuver. A second round of missile detonations at the same location had strongly hinted that TF1 was completely destroyed too. The enemy fleet had also suffered losses from Wellington’s last two volleys, but it still had six apparently undamaged battlecruisers, which were now coming around with the apparent intention of dropping into Avalon orbit. Those six would have more than enough combat power to destroy all the major urban centers if the enemy commander so desired. Or he could just order the palace bombarded.
“Have my royal yacht ready to launch immediately!” Trevor ordered.
Tau Ceti Empire Capital (Corona):
Ten days later.
With a feeling of disgust, Brandenburg watched Trevor leave the audience chamber. She looked over at Delacor and saw the same reaction on her face. When he realized the battle was lost, Trevor had packed up his family and fled, leaving Avalon and his subjects to their fates and to the whims of the enemy commander. What a coward.
“Who do you think is behind that attack?” she asked Delacor.
Delacor sighed. “He’s convinced it’s Tanaka, but I have my doubts. Getting together a fleet of that size would mean pulling ships away from his frontier systems, and we would have heard about that from our freighter captains. They’re pretty good at keeping their eyes open when they visit those systems. My money’s on Delisani.”
Brandenburg nodded. “You think he got wind that Trevor and Tanaka was planning to move against him?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think. He learned what they were up to and decided to launch a pre-emptive strike. By crushing Trevor’s navy, Delisani has managed to even the odds a bit, although he did take some losses. It’s hard to make sense of the description of the battle that Trevor gave us, but I don’t think Admiral Wellington screwed up as badly as Trevor makes it sound. Separating that task force from the main body, though, doesn’t seem like a good move in hindsight.”
“Do we have any idea of how badly the attacking force was hurt?” asked Brandenburg.
“No, we don’t. Trevor’s comments are too vague to allow us to draw any conclusions, and we haven’t received any reliable reports from other sources. Are you thinking that we should hit Delisani while he’s licking his wounds? Eighty-nine percent of the Fleet has full loads of Mark ten warheads now, although we haven’t started building a strategic reserve of those weapons.”
“Hit the DE? Oh, God no, Elona. Nothing so ambitious, at least not yet, but I was wondering if we could pick up the rest of the Atlantian systems now that King Trevor has asked for political asylum. Does Marcus have enough ships to pull that off?”
Delacor thought for a moment. “Take? Yes. Hold? No. If we wanted to hold on to them, we’d have to redeploy at least two other task forces, and even that might not be enough. With the Kingdom now virtually defenseless, it wouldn’t surprise me to see Delisani and Tanaka both try to pick up the crumbs.” She looked up, and Brandenburg noticed her blinking quickly a few times. She knew that look. Something new had just crossed Delacor’s mind, and she was mulling it over. Brandenburg waited for her to finish.
“An idea just occurred to me. It’s a bit risky, but if it pays off at all, it could pay off big. What if both Tanaka and Delisani send forces to the Avalon system, hoping to pick up the crumbs, and what if we have a hidden task force already in the system? If we can somehow get them to fight each other, that could spill over to a major war between them. And once the fighting’s exhausted, we could move in on both of them.”
Brandenburg smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Elona. You like to think big. Yes, it could play out that way, but if both sides figure out that we’re manipulating them, it could have the exact opposite effect. They might combine forces to come after us.” Brandenburg leaned back in her chair and stared off into infinity. It was Delacor’s turn to wait.
“Here’s what I’ll authorize. We send two ships, not a task force, to the Atlantian Capital system with orders to observe whatever happens there, to keep their presence hidden then to intervene—only if they can do so without revealing themselves—with the goal of encouraging a confrontation between the DE and the Shogunate. With those parameters, who do you recommend be put in charge?”
“Marcus,” said Delacor without any hesitation. “He knows how to play this kind of situation.”
“I thought you’d recommend him, and I agree, but I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page. Okay, send him the orders, but two ships max. I’m firm on that, Elona.”
Tanaka Shogunate Capital (New Mount Fuji):
Captain Isoruko took a deep breath. He had just finished giving a running commentary to go along with the computer-generated re-enactment of the battle of Avalon, which his ship had secretly monitored from a safe distance.
“Is there any doubt that the attacking ships were Delisani?” asked Tanaka.
“I’m not able to say that there’s zero doubt, My Lord. It is possible
that those ships belong to the Empress; however, our military intelligence network on Corona is quite good, and we have heard nothing about any major shifting of fleet assets or of casualties,” said Hashimoto.
Tanaka nodded. “I’m aware of that, Captain. So then, let’s assume that Delisani sent those ships. They came from a direction that would suggest they were our ships. Clearly, Delisani wanted to drive a wedge between King Trevor and myself. Given the fact that the Kingdom’s Navy has more or less ceased to exist as an organized combat force and that King Trevor himself has apparently deserted his own people, I would say that Delisani has realized that goal. The Atlantian Kingdom would appear to be wide open now. Would you agree, Captain?”
“Yes, My Lord, it certainly does appear to be that way.”
“Then maybe we should send our ships there to offer protection to the vulnerable citizens of those planets.” A feral grin broke out on Tanaka’s face.
“Indeed, My Lord! Success comes to the bold. I should point out, though, that moving on Atlantia now will disrupt the planned staging-area deployment for the campaign against the TCE,” said Hashimoto.