by D. J. Holmes
“I concur,” Gar’am said as he swished his tail back and forth. The Varanni had to duck to fit into Springbuck’s briefing room. It was probably uncomfortable and humiliating for someone from a species who took their pride and honor so seriously. Reminding himself of the very fact, Lightfoot sat up straighter and resolved not to let his frustration show again. “The plan itself is worth trying. I know you have already had success with a similar strategy. I understand the need to take greater risks this time, the Karacknids will probably suspect a trap. Nevertheless, that does not mean that you need to be the one to take on this risk.”
“The decision is mine to make,” Lightfoot replied. “I will not command someone else to lead this mission. I understand the risk, that is why I intend to play the role of bait. Plus, Springbuck has the most powerful point defenses out of the Human ships in our fleet. It makes the most sense to send her. We cannot send either of your ships with the convoy. As soon as they detect a Vestarian or Varanni ship, they will know something is up.”
“He’s right,” Suarez said. “Taking Springbuck actually reduces the risk to the convoy. If Schmidt and his three ships are going to put themselves in harm’s way, then Springbuck will have no trouble doing the same.”
“Besides,” Lightfoot said as he changed his tone and tried to lighten the mood. “If something does happen to me, we have two very able commanders in our midst.” As he spoke he nodded to Jil’lal and Gar’am. “Either of you can take over.”
“If something does happen to you, what am I to tell Admiral Somerville?” Jil’lal asked, not changing her tone.
“You can tell him we were doing our duty,” Lightfoot responded. “Look,” he said and paused to let his point sink in. “We’ve been sent out here to engage the Karacknids. If they won’t let us come to them, then we need to lure them to us. Every day we are out here is a day more we leave Earth’s defenses weaker than they need to be. If we cannot achieve something then we may as well tuck our tails between our legs and return home.”
“A strange expression Admiral. I did not know your species had tails as well as legs,” Gar’am replied.
Lightfoot quickly bowed to the Varanni. “My apologies, I meant no disrespect. It is a common phrase my people use. It refers to an animal from our homeworld.”
Gar’am opened his mouth to show his razor-sharp teeth in what Lightfoot knew was a sign of amusement. “Relax Admiral. I am aware of the phrase. I’ve been studying your species’ language. It was a modest attempt at humor.”
Relief flooded through Lightfoot. “Ah, I see.”
“So do I Admiral. I understand our need for action,” the Varanni replied. “I just do not see your need to take up such a role. You could transfer your flag from Springbuck if it is so important to send her. Nevertheless, if you cannot be talked out of this, then I will not attempt to do so any further. There are a number of finer details in your plan that we should finalize instead.”
“I have already decided my role in this Captain. I will not be dissuaded,” as he spoke Lightfoot looked over to Jil’lal.
She nodded to show she was satisfied she had said her piece.
“There is one other thing,” Lightfoot added, now that he had their agreement. “You will have strict orders to bug out if we find ourselves up against a force we cannot handle. You are both right about one thing, this is a risky idea. I intend to minimize the risk to the rest of our ships as much as possible.” Though he didn’t know either of their species very well, Lightfoot could see the protests appearing. He held up his hands to cut them off. “If the plan backfires and we lose a handful of ships that is one thing. We cannot lose our entire fleet. I’m not arguing the point. So, let’s just go through the details shall we?”
Chapter 9
There is a constant battle going on within the fleet, one cadets rarely get an insight into, though when they do, they almost always fall on the side of innovation. Many in the fleet believe the future lies in a constantly advancing technological push. To defeat the Antarians or the Karacknids or whatever other threat lies out there, the fleet must be ever evolving. Others fear the fragility of novel technologies. The old ways, those that have been tried and refined in the fires of battle, they are the means we should use to ensure the Empire’s safety. When you are young, what is new always seems best. Yet with experience a more tempered approach usually develops. Cadets who wish to enter the command track must learn to walk a line between both extremes. What has proven itself must never be thrown away lightly, yet what is new may hold the key to victory. The history of the Imperial fleet teaches us both of these maximums are true.
-Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD.
23rd November 2481 AD (eighteen days later).
Lightfoot tried and failed to fight back a yawn. He had been on Springbuck’s bridge for the last ten hours. Ever since the small convoy of warships and freighters borrowed from Leipzig had entered the Hessen system. Hessen lay directly between Holstein and Ulm. If his makeshift convoy was going to run into Karacknid raiders, it was going to be on their current route. Yet there hadn’t been even a whiff of enemy activity. At least, not current activity, Lightfoot reminded himself as he glanced at the holo-display of the Hessen colony. Its orbitals had been destroyed more than a month ago. The colony’s Chancellor had contacted him demanding that his convoy stop and deliver what supplies they could. Of course, he hadn’t been able to explain to the Chancellor that his freighters were empty. There was no way to know if the Karacknids had broken their COM encryptions. Instead, he had sent his apologies and kept his convoy heading through the system at the best speed his freighters could manage. If there were Karacknid ships watching, it was supposed to look like he was trying to get his ships out of the German colonies as quickly as possible. The reply from Hessen’s Councilor had not been pleasant, but Lightfoot was getting used to such messages. “I think I’ll retire to my quarters,” he said to Springbuck’s bridge officers as he stood. He had reached the limit of his endurance. His small convoy was still three and half hours away from the edge of the system and the shift passage to Brocken. He could catch a couple of hours sleep and be back for the jump out. “Contact me if there is anything out of the ordinary.”
“Don’t worry Admiral, I will,” Suarez assured him as he walked past his Flag Captain. Lightfoot patted Suarez’s shoulder and headed for the hatch that led out of the bridge and into his quarters. He’d only made it three steps when alarms blared from several stations. At once, he spun around.
“Multiple new contacts!” An officer called. “Five light minutes away. They are on an intercept trajectory.”
“Where are they coming from?” Suarez demanded. “How did they get so close?”
As Lightfoot threw himself into his command chair and strapped himself in, the main holo- projection of space around Springbuck zoomed in on a small asteroid field. “They’re coming from this group of asteroids,” Springbuck’s First Lieutenant reported. “They must have been lying in wait.”
“Confirmed, there are sixteen contacts. Five are medium cruiser size or above,” another officer announced.
Lightfoot didn’t need to do any calculations to know they were in trouble. The Karacknids had been watching them, and they had chosen their ambush site perfectly. “Signal Jil’lal immediately. Her ships are to engage.”
As soon as his command went out, the holo-projection changed. Three light minutes behind Lightfoot’s convoy, the rest of his ships suddenly appeared. Using their superior shift space speeds, they had entered the Hessen system ahead of his convoy. Then, in stealth, they had built up enough momentum to trail behind the convoy when it arrived. Lightfoot had thought a trailing distance of three light minutes had been a safe enough option. If Jil’lal’s ships had been too close to his convoy any stealth drones the Karacknids might have used to recon the convoy could have detected them as well. Three light minutes would normally have given Jil’lal’s ships plenty of time to close with the convoy. He had been wrong. The
question is, are they going to blink? Lightfoot asked himself. The Karacknid ships had begun their acceleration from a point of relative rest in relation to his convoy. They could decelerate and turn away if they wanted to avoid action. But it would mean they couldn’t engage his convoy. Keeping his face impassive, Lightfoot waited and watched.
“Okay, listen up everyone,” he said when it was clear the Karacknids weren’t going to turn. “They’re going to get one missile salvo off against us before the rest of the fleet gets here. We’re going to have to face it alone. I want all our freighters evacuated immediately. Get their crews to our warships and slave the controls to the bridge. Then ready the point defenses.”
“Aye, Admiral,” several serious faces replied.
Lightfoot looked over to Suarez. “Jil’lal may have been right after all.”
“Even if they get us, Jil’lal will get them,” Suarez replied. “That will mean one less Karacknid squadron raiding our colonies.”
Lightfoot nodded. “A worthy trade. But let’s make them work for it nonetheless.”
“I’ll not say no to that Admiral,” Suarez said with a smile.
“The final evacuation shuttles are taking off now Admiral,” a bridge officer reported six minutes later.
“Do we have remote control of the freighters yet?” Lightfoot responded.
“Yes Admiral.”
“Start taking off the safety protocols on their reactors and engines. I want to be able to redline them as soon as I give the command,” Lightfoot explained.
“Understood,” the officer replied as she turned back to her console.
“What are you thinking?” Suarez asked.
“There will be far too many missiles for our point defenses. We need to encourage as many as possible to target the freighters,” Lightfoot replied.
Suarez’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at the holo-projector. “If it doesn’t work…”
Lightfoot shrugged. “If it doesn’t work, I don’t think we’ll be any worse off.”
“All right then,” Suarez said with a nod.
“Missile releases from the Karacknid squadron,” Springbuck’s sensor officer announced. “Two hundred and eighty incoming missiles.”
Lightfoot swallowed hard at the number. He knew it had been coming, but it was daunting, nevertheless. Alongside Springbuck he had Schmidt’s light cruiser and the two destroyers from Leipzig, plus four other frigates from his squadron. Half the number of Karacknid missiles they were facing would overwhelm their defenses.
“Let’s be about it,” Lightfoot said to his officers. There was no point dwelling on the enemy’s numbers. “Fire our own salvo as soon as we get into range.” Lightfoot doubted any of his missiles would reach their targets, but it would give the Karacknids something to think about on top of preparing to face Jil’lal’s ships. Moments later his convoy fired fifty-four missiles. As soon as they were gone, Lightfoot dismissed them from his thoughts. All that mattered was surviving the Karacknid salvo.
When the missiles came in, every point defense weapon in the convoy opened up on them. In the space of ninety seconds sixty-five were taken out. But it was nowhere near enough. It’s now or never, Lightfoot said to himself. The missiles were only seconds away from his ships. “All warships are to go into stealth and take evasive maneuvers!” Lightfoot shouted. “Send the overlord signal to the freighters.”
Springbuck and the rest of Lightfoot’s warships cut their engines, powered down their reactors and ceased their point defense fire. In contrast, the twelve freighters lit up the electromagnetic sensors of the Karacknid missiles as the massive amounts of energy being pumped out by their reactors and engines grabbed the attention of the seeker heads. Dozens more got confused when their original targets disappeared. Their targeting software quickly switched to the nearest new target. Many latched onto the freighters. Though not all. At such close ranges, the stealth technologies of Human warships were far from perfect.
Aware of this, Lightfoot was already gripping tightly onto his command chair. Even so, as something struck Springbuck he was thrown around violently. Both his hands lost their grip. His left was twisted back so violently that he heard a crack. His right, thrown by the same momentum, struck him on the chin. The g-forces from the missile impact and the physical thud from his own fist made Lightfoot’s eyes close for several seconds. When he managed to force them open again, he was surprised to see anything at all. The bridge was still intact. Though it was a mess. Some of the bridge officers were slumped over in their seats, unconscious. The rest looked badly shaken. Blood was seeping from several noses and ears. It seemed like alarms were blaring from every console on the bridge. We are alive, Lightfoot thought as he looked around him. A Karacknid missile had to have hit them. Yet its antimatter warhead hadn’t completely obliterated the ship. He opened his mouth to request a damage report but shut it again when he saw Suarez conscious and alert in his command chair. Springbuck was his responsibility. “What’s the status of the fleet?” he asked instead as he turned to Commander Houston, his Chief of Staff. As he waited for a response, he looked down at his left arm and tried to move it. A curse escaped his lips as pain shot up from his elbow towards his shoulder. Reaching over with his right, he clasped his left arm to his chest and held it in place. I’ll have to worry about it later.
“I’m still reviewing the sensor data,” Houston answered. “It doesn’t look like Schmidt’s cruiser made it, nor the two UN destroyers that were with her.” Lightfoot nodded, the three un-upgraded UN ships had the worst stealth capabilities of those under his command. “Three of our frigates haven’t reported in yet either,” his Chief of Staff added.
Almost all, Lightfoot thought. Only two ships remained of his small convoy escort. Yet that was more than he had been hoping for. “What’s our status?” Lightfoot asked Suarez.
Suarez shook his head. “It’s too early to tell. I think we suffered two proximity hits. The antimatter vaporized much of our forward nose section. Many stations are not reporting in.”
“Do we still have missile tubes operational?” Lightfoot followed up.
Suarez turned to his First Lieutenant. “Our starboard side, I think we have nine still functioning,” the Lieutenant replied.
“Get them reloaded,” Lightfoot ordered. “Contact the other survivors, coordinate with them. Even if we can only get off a handful of missiles, they will help Jil’lal.” Leaving everyone to deal with the aftermath of the Karacknid missile salvo, Lightfoot pulled up a sensor feed of the developing battle between Jil’lal’s forces and the Karacknid squadron on his command chair’s holo projector. Unsurprisingly, the Karacknids had begun to decelerate and turn as soon as they fired their first missile salvo. As soon as they could, they had fired a second, thankfully it was heading towards Jil’lal’s forces. For her part, Jil’lal had her ships charging straight after the Karacknids.
As the bridge officers focused on their own ship, Lightfoot watched the battle unfold. Jil’lal had the Varanni ships at the front of her formation. When the Karacknid missile salvo came into attack range, Varanni point defenses quickly shredded them. Then the Human and Vestarian weapons opened up as well. Two missiles got through. Miraculously, both ships that were targeted managed to evade the missiles at the last moment.
Seconds after Jil’lal’s ships reformed into formation, they returned fire. Then they fired again, and again. In total it took five salvos to completely finish off the Karacknid squadron. The missiles from Springbuck and the surviving frigate of the convoy added little to the battle, but they had at least forced the Karacknids to split their defensive fire. Though they were outnumbered, the Karacknids had given a good account of themselves. Jil’lal had lost seven warships including a Varanni frigate.
“It’s over,” Lightfoot announced to Springbuck’s bridge when the last Karacknid ship was blown apart by six missiles. “Jil’lal has finished them off. They are on their way back here.” As Lightfoot looked around the bridge, he saw two distinct
ive responses. His staff officers smiled and nodded in relief, while Springbuck’s officers barely registered his words. They were still focused on their ship.
“How bad is it?” Lightfoot asked Suarez as he turned to his Flag Captain. He wasn’t smiling either.
“It was two proximity hits,” Suarez confirmed. “The death toll is at one hundred and forty-seven so far. We’ve lost the entire nose section back to bulkhead eighteen. Our point defenses are down to about sixty percent and we’ve lost a third of our missile tubes. We can probably jury rig one or two new ones, but that’s the best we can do. I’m not even sure what kind of acceleration she can handle. A lot of her centerline struts have been burnt away by the antimatter.”