“Do you mean ‘My Lost Little Angel’?” Elizabeth replied, blushing at the compliment.
“Yes,” McLetchie replied.
“Guilty, I’m afraid,” Elizabeth had to concede proudly.
“Then I really must congratulate you on a very fine piece of prose missus Caudwell,” McLetchie praised, “My good lady has read your book three times,” he added quietly.
“Well, I’m delighted that she has enjoyed it,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oh, she did, and we shall look forward to seeing you and your family on Saturday,” McLetchie began, “Oh, by the way, have you considered which University William would like to attend, missus Caudwell?”
“University?” the idea finally burst into Elizabeth Caudwell’s consciousness, “erm, well, no mister McLetchie, he’s only fifteen.”
No one in either Elizabeth’s or John’s family had ever gone to University and the horizons that seemed to be opening up to Billy were a whole new country for Elizabeth Caudwell.
“Missus Caudwell, if I may say, students from Gilfillan usually matriculate after their fifth year of Secondary, when they’re seventeen; so, I would urge you to get young William to consider what he wishes to achieve with his future,” McLetchie sounded insistent without seeming to domineer.
“I’ll certainly be discussing it with him this evening when he gets home from school,” Elizabeth said with a degree of uncertainty.
For all she knew, Billy still wanted to be an Astronaut or a Rocket Engineer or something.
“Yes, please, missus Caudwell,” McLetchie insisted, “we like to tailor our learning programmes to the needs and ambitions of our students,” he added, “and time is of the utmost importance at young William’s age.”
“I shall make it my number one priority,” Elizabeth said shakily, “thank you for calling mister McLetchie.”
“Missus Caudwell, a pleasure to speak to you,” McLetchie said and hung up.
Wow, Billy going to University, Elizabeth mused proudly, hanging up the receiver. Then the real world impinged on her daydream. With a start, she bolted towards the kitchen.
“Kettle!” she said urgently.
Chapter 36
The Praxos System
An angry and deeply frustrated Turthus Chulling stood at the War Table, fists clenched, as he watched the piecemeal destruction of his Eagle fighters on the Alliance’s left flank. Outnumbered nearly three to one, not even the superior speed and manoeuvrability of the wedge-shaped single-seat fighter could compensate for the sheer weight of numbers that they faced. On the War Table image, Chulling watched the isolated individual battles between the Alliance Eagles and the Bardomil Harpoons and Flying Devils grind to their inevitable fatal conclusions for the brave Alliance pilots. With their line of retreat cut off, with no hope of rescue and with no chance of surrender, the Eagles just had to fight on and try to take as many Bardomil with them as they could. The heroic futility of it all, and the waste of lives, angered Chulling, especially as he blamed himself for the disaster that was playing out before him.
From the moment Chulling had seen the new Big Wing formation appear, he had known that his gamble, heroic as it had been, had failed. The Fighter Controllers had tried, desperately, to extract as many Eagles as they could from the hideous swirling scrimmage of the dogfight, but it had been far too late. When the huge left flank of the Bardomil Big Wing had struck, the Alliance centre had simply caved in. The Eagles trying to contain the deadly M-Cruisers had been overwhelmed with the survivors being driven into the main fighter battle on the Bardomil right. And, with the Alliance centre gone, the Bardomil left flank had swept round to cut off the Alliance’s line of retreat before pushing into the main fight. Meanwhile, the M-Cruisers, freed from the attentions of the Alliance fighters, were regrouping.
Now, the final ‘dance of death’ was taking place close to the planet of Valnarim. It had been a strategic victory for the Alliance. The Bardomil strike force had been fatally weakened and would never be able to support a full scale invasion. Tactically, it would be a defeat for the Alliance. Chulling’s rag-tag flotilla would be pinned down by the First Admiral’s orders and ground to dust by the M-Cruisers.
Forcing himself to watch the demise of the Eagles, a penance for his failure, Chulling gritted his teeth and suffered the mental agonies of a commander facing defeat. He knew that his mistakes had been costly and that it was those errors that were now losing Eagle pilots their lives out in the battle area.
“Sir,” the Scanner Officer called out in the heavy oppressive atmosphere of the War Room, “enemy M-Cruisers are forming up for an attack.”
Switching the War Table image to where the Alliance centre had once struggled and harried at the M-Cruisers, Chulling could see the Bardomil ships congregating.
“Well, here they come for the big finale,” Chulling muttered to himself.
With the main fighter battle still raging, Chulling knew that there was nothing to stop the M-Cruisers launching their attack runs at the Alliance Star-Cruisers. There was no fighter cover to keep the Bardomil ships away from his weakening formation.
“Very well,” Chulling shook off his feeling of despair and started to issue orders, “let’s circle the wagons, WATO,” he ordered.
Rather than abandon the Praxos system, Chulling planned to form his Star-Cruisers into a rectangular box formation for his last stand. In the box formation, each Star-Cruiser could protect the other with both force-shielding and weapons fire. And, whilst that formation stood its ground, the Bardomil couldn’t move through the Praxos system to the neighbouring Terran system. The Bardomil commander dared not risk his supply lines by avoiding Chulling’s flotilla, they had to be removed.
“And, order New Thexxia and Leonidas to get away from here,” Chulling added.
The Alliance could ill afford to lose the Star-Cruisers of Chulling’s formation, but any counter offensive that First Admiral Caudwell could deliver would need every Eagle and Fleet Carrier that he could scrape together. The two Fleet Carriers were just too valuable to be lost in a futile last stand.
“Yes, sir,” the WATO acknowledged and slowly dragged his feet to his duties.
The infection of defeat had now taken hold of the entire flotilla and there was nothing that Chulling could do about it. Given the choice, he would have formed the Star-Cruisers into a huge ‘V’ formation and ran them straight at the Bardomil guns in one last blaze of glory. But, Chulling didn’t have that luxury. He had been ordered to buy time with his ships and the lives of their crews. Every second that he could buy for First Admiral Caudwell’s counter attack was precious. Every Bardomil ship that he could take out made Caudwell’s task that tiny bit easier.
“M-Cruisers attacking, sir,” the Scanner Officer warned.
“Continue move to box formation, and open fire when they’re within range,” Chulling ordered, as he turned once more to the War Table image.
The fighter battle close to Valnarim was still raging with the hopelessly outnumbered Eagles being gradually whittled down. It was a savage, uncompromising fight where the fighter craft tore at each other in brutal no-holds-barred combat. And, sweeping around the flank of the fighter scrimmage, the formation of M-Cruisers, in a ragged skirmish line, was there to push home one last devastating attack.
As Chulling watched the M-Cruisers began to form their trio combinations before opening fire. The Memphis, taking a direct hit on her force-shielding shuddered and lurched under the impact, rocking Chulling unsteadily on his feet. Other Star-Cruisers in the slow moving formation were also hit by the first salvo, creating damage and casualties.
A few seconds later the first Alliance pulsar-bolts streaked downrange towards the M-Cruisers in answer to the first Bardomil salvo. Three M-Cruiser trios disappeared in balls of red roaring flame as their formation advanced. But, as Chulling quietly celebrated, the Memphis was struck once more by a powerful laser blast.
“We’ve lost power distribution to the force-shielding and wea
pons!” an Engineering Technician announced.
“Get it sorted Engineers!” Chulling ordered, reeling from the last impact, “order Calypso and Thunderchild to cover us with their shielding while we get repaired.”
Without force-shielding and weapons, the Memphis was a sitting duck in the middle of the Bardomil attack.
“Negative, sir!” a Comms Technician called out, “Calypso has lost her force-shielding generator; she’s pulling out of the line.”
“Tell her to keep her weapons firing,” Chulling ordered switching the War Table image to that of the Alliance formation.
On the image, the lumbering Star-Cruisers seemed to be hobbling into place in a three-dimensional, roughly rectangular formation. Already, some of the vessels, having lost force-shielding, were slowly drifting into the centre of the formation where other ships could protect them. Streaks of light, the laser streams from the M-Cruisers, slammed against the Star-Cruisers at the front face of the box formation. But, whatever damage seemed to be inflicted on the shuddering and lurching Alliance ships, the pulsar-cannons still seemed capable of replying. The domed turrets on the top of the Star-Cruisers kept sending the white-hot pulsar-bolts against the advancing Bardomil.
As Chulling continued to watch, the Star-Cruiser Aurora, her middle three turrets a twisted, tangled mass of scorched metal also began to drop out of the firing line. With each withdrawal, Chulling knew that the formation would contract leaving those craft with functioning force-shielding no choice but to weaken their own defences to protect their sister ships. The Alliance formation was slowly shrinking under the Bardomil onslaught, and Chulling knew that all he could do was to try to hang on as long as possible.
Switching the War Table image back to the advancing M-Cruisers, Chulling watched as the trios began to form once more whilst Alliance pulsar-bolts streaked downrange towards them. But, suddenly, some of the expected M-Cruiser trios began to split up. Stunned for a split-second, Chulling watched the pulsar-bolts, which should have reduced these trios to exploding devastation, miss their targets entirely. Again, he saw the same pattern with another trio of M-Cruisers. The three craft would approach each other for an attack run, then, at the last possible moment, would veer away from each other. The Alliance gunner anticipating a weapon firing trio to form would let loose and then find that the pulsar-bolts would miss. With the Alliance pulsar-cannons then having to cool, the M-Cruisers would form trios with other craft and fire their weapons.
“They’re learning how to draw our fire,” Chulling mumbled, a wave of hopelessness sweeping over him as another Bardomil laser struck the Memphis.
With no force-shielding, a great gouge of metal was torn from one of the three Eagle Landing Bays that was facing the Bardomil attack. Debris and people were flung out into space as the Memphis lurched like a wounded animal under the impact. All around Chulling, alarms blared and air tight bulkheads were secured, trapping terrified crew members in the damaged areas. As the damaged and isolated areas de-pressurised, those crew members would also be hurled out to their deaths.
“Sir,” one of the Fighter Controllers said softly, “we’ve just lost the last of our Eagles.”
Despite the insistent blare of the alarms, the War Room seemed to fall into a deathly silence. Nearly two thousand Eagles, and their pilots, had been lost. Chulling closed his eyes and wanted to cry out with anger and pain, but knew he had to keep a professional bearing in front of his subordinates. Silently, Turthus Chulling cursed himself for his earlier complacency and then he cursed First Admiral William Caudwell for not getting to the Valnarim position in time. On the War Table image, the M-Cruisers were still randomly forming their weapon firing trios as they advanced on Chulling’s position. With the M-Cruisers getting larger and larger on the projected visual, Chulling sat down resignedly on one of the seats attached to the side of the War Table.
It’s all over, he sighed to himself as another stream of laser fire slammed into the Memphis, which sheared away the last of the high-yield pulsar-cannons turrets. Shaken and jolted by the impact, Chulling only just managed to remain in the seat. Switching to a wider view on the War Table image, Chulling saw the surviving Bardomil Harpoons and Flying Devils forming into another Big Wing. The new Bardomil formation reminded him of a Video Entertainment the First Admiral had once brought from Terra about a General called Custer, who had been surrounded by his enemies and killed alongside his entire command. Chulling knew that the M-Cruisers would grind away their force-shielding and then send the fighters in to destroy whatever remained. The Bardomil commander would have his vengeance for the loss of his Imperial Fighter Carriers. Sitting back on the seat, Chulling closed his eyes and hoped that the end for him would be swift.
“Admiral Chulling!” a familiar voice startled Chulling’s eyes open, “I trust we have not missed all of the fun?” the voice of Billy Caudwell boomed out from the War Table image.
“Sir!” an astonished Chulling instinctively sprang to his feet as the head and shoulders image of a very pink and blotchy-faced First Admiral stared at him.
“Trionic Web!” a Scanner Technician had the presence of mind to yell, “Star-Destroyers! Eagles! There are thousands of them, sir!”
In a split second the mood of the War Room went from deathly resignation to unbridled joy and cheering.
“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” Billy said calmly as if he had just turned up for a birthday party, “withdraw your vessels for repair Admiral,” he instructed, “get your people out of here.”
“Yes, sir!” Chulling smiled ready to kiss Billy Caudwell with sheer relief.
“Good job, Chulling,” Billy praised and switched his own War Table image to that of the battle situation.
In the War Room of the massive Star-Destroyer Colossus, Billy turned his attention to the battle situation. Around him, the Officers and Technicians from the Aquarius’ War Room now scampered about their duties integrating their activities with the Colossus’ War Room staff.
“Eagles are launching, sir,” the familiar voice of Marrhus Lokkrien informed the First Admiral.
On the image, Billy could see a stupendous victory taking shape. Before leaving the Terran system with the Titan and the Colossus, Billy had summoned the Fleet Carriers, Leonidas and New Thexxia, to his position. On arrival, the two Fleet Carriers were loaded up with as many Eagles from the three badly damaged Star-Destroyers as they could possibly manage. It had taken precious time to load the Fleet Carriers and the two functioning Star-Destroyers with additional Eagles. But, Billy knew that he would have to hit the Bardomil invading force with every fighter that he could gather. He knew that he would have the element of surprise and that he would have to deliver one massive strike to shatter the invasion force for good. With the fate of the Alliance at stake, Billy planned to deliver a crushing blow and send the Empress a clear message not to dare to challenge him ever again.
With the Eagles loaded up, Billy had brought the Colossus, Titan, New Thexxia and Leonidas to Valnarim. Ignoring current protocol, Billy had ordered the Navigation Officers to get as close to the battle area as they possibly dared. So, rather than appearing from the Trionic web at the safe distance of ten thousand kilometres from the battle area, the rescue flotilla had emerged, amidst the blinding flashes of collapsing Trion Fields, less than one hundred and fifty kilometres from the action.
Aboard the Bardomil flagship, Grattus Darrien had yelled with outrage and astonishment as the huge, two-kilometre wide, Star-Destroyers had emerged from the Trionic Web followed an instant later by the two Fleet Carriers. Whoever had navigated those ships had been a genius, Darrien cursed them. His final victorious tactical swan-song was now destined to be a final disaster as the new Alliance vessels had managed to appear in a flanking position between the surviving Imperial Fighter Carriers and the M-Cruiser and fighter formations. Worse still, the Alliance ships had begun to spew out thousands upon thousands of their single-seat Eagle craft from their Landing Bays. Isolated from his own fighter and M-Cru
iser support, General Darrien now realised that it had been a huge mistake to bring forward the convoy protection Fleets to attack Chulling’s position. His supply and troop transports were now completely unprotected from the horde of Alliance ships that had just appeared.
For a moment, Darrien stood in awe of the Alliance commander who would sacrifice the lives of so many of his own people to draw this invasion fleet into such a perfectly executed trap. General Darrien was, however, completely unaware that Billy had been fortunate rather than calculating in his strategy. But, having viewed the Bardomil dispositions, the part of his mind that was Teg Portan had spotted the Bardomil weakness and presented Billy with the ideal opportunity.
On the War Table image, Billy had explained his plan to his senior commanders. The Alliance position consisted of Colossus, New Thexxia, Leonidas and Titan in a skirmish line. With the manipulator, he highlighted the battle area and divided it into three sectors. One, the fighters and M-Cruisers that would be scampering back to the Imperial Fighter Carriers. Two, the surviving Imperial Fighter Carriers; and finally, three, the supply and troop transports that stretched back for hundreds of thousands of kilometres.
Colossus would send eight thousand of her expanded complement of nearly twenty-thousand Eagles to the first sector to protect the departure of Chulling’s badly damaged flotilla and to finally dispatch the last of the M-Cruisers and fighters. New Thexxia would send one thousand of her expanded complement of four thousand Eagles to finally eliminate the last Bardomil Imperial Fighter Carriers. The rest, nearly forty thousand Eagles, were to attack the troop and supply transports with orders that none of them were to escape. Such a mammoth defeat would not only damage Bardomil prestige throughout the Empire, but it might encourage their long-time enemies, the Ganthorans, to cause trouble as well. The damage to Chulling’s vessels and the Star-Destroyers would take quite some time to repair and Billy needed to take the heat off the Alliance’s frontiers.
First Admiral 02 The Burning Sun Page 24