Alarm of War v-1

by Kennedy Hudner

  “Fire!”

  Each ship flushed its missile batteries in a single orgy of fire, then fired every available laser. Then, as one, they turned and raced back into the minefield, seeking whatever protection they could find there. Had they been at full readiness, they would have fired a total of one hundred and ten missiles and twenty five lasers, but all they could manage was seventy two missiles and fifteen lasers. All the lasers were concentrated on one enemy cruiser, leaving eighteen missiles for each of the remaining four cruisers. At normal ranges, this would never have been enough, but the enemy cruisers were less than four hundred miles behind the minefield and the missiles sprinted over that distance in seconds.

  Rowe watched through the eyes of a loitering drone. The cruiser struck by lasers shied off, its sensors blinded and its propulsion system faltering, air streaming from several breaches of its hull. Another cruiser triggered its Dark Matter Brake and quickly fell behind. The three others seemed to fair better and immediately began to counter-fire with missiles and lasers in abundance, seeking out the Victorians, who in turn bobbed and weaved in a desperate attempt to get back into the minefield.

  “Clear to the left!” Captain Rowe ordered his attack force. “They’ll saturate this area with anti-matter bombs in a moment. Clear to the left!”

  The nine ships wheeled away and accelerated, shooting decoys behind them to throw off the Ducks’ tracking. As they fled, each ship pushed its engines to maximum military power, but combat and damage had taken their toll and within minutes the ships began to separate. Soon the Swansea and Repulse were far behind.

  Captain Rowe studied his hologram. He was leading his attack force several degrees to the left of where they had first attacked. Now he ordered the ships to slow and turn back toward the edge of the minefield. “Is everyone reloaded?” he asked Merlin.

  “Australia, complete. Bristol will be complete in ninety seconds; Auckland, Sydney and New Castle are loaded; Coral Bay, Perth and Darwin will be complete in three minutes; no report from Swansea and Repulse,” Merlin reported.

  Rowe frowned. “Merlin, report location of Swansea and Repulse.”

  “Insufficient data. There is no C2C contact and without active sensors neither ship can be located within the minefield,” the AI reported matter-of-factly.

  Rowe shook his head. Dammit! Down two ships already. He thumbed the comm to speak to his other captains. “Okay, Swansea and Repulse are out of contact. I don’t know if they are out of action or just lagging behind without radio communications, but we can’t wait. We’re going to pop out of the minefield again and target more of the Dominion cruisers. Keep a tight formation, and once you’ve fired, get back into the minefield as quickly as you can. This may be our last shot at this, so make it good. Each ship acknowledge orders!”

  The remaining ships acknowledged and headed one more for the edge of the minefield.

  Admiral Mello scowled at the battle display. There were two Vicky forces out there, one stalking the Vengeance, the other actively attacking his cruisers. Two cruisers had been badly damaged and were out of action. The after-effects of the anti-matter weapons and the general clutter of the minefield made it impossible to get a clear picture of where they were.

  No matter, he would find them.

  “Computer, plot a line left and right of the original attack by the Victorian cruisers and show furthest possible location of enemy ships within that area.”

  The battle display flickered and an orange tint appeared over the area where the Vickies could be hiding. Mello studied it, then nodded.

  “Captain Pattin, are the anti-matter weapons fully loaded on all ships?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” she replied.

  Mello tapped his fingers on the armrest. “Send a message to all ships. At the first sign of enemy activity…” He spelled out his orders.

  Two thousand miles behind the H.M.S. Bristol, the H.M.S. Swansea and Repulse crept along at thirty percent power, all either of them could manange.

  “Bugger me,” the captain of the Repulse muttered. His holo display looked like a ball of fuzz in fog. “Where the hell did they go?” He turned to his Communications Officer. “Willy, are we in touch with anybody?”

  “Yes, sir, the Swansea. We’ve lost her a couple of times, but we keep finding her again.”

  Captain O’Toole stifled a groan. He and the captain of the Swansea had cordially hated each other since their days at the Academy. Just bad chemistry. Once he had even asked her to dance at the Academy Ball and she had told him, loudly, that she wouldn’t dance with him if it were the last dance in the world and he was the only man there. To make it worse, they couldn’t seem to get away from each other. They went through Command School training together, were on the same battleship together as Ensigns, had gone to frigates together and then were both promoted to destroyers in the Home Fleet.

  He sighed. No help for it. “Swansea, this is Repulse.”

  “Swansea here, Bert. What do you want?” Captain Joan Cummings didn’t sound happy to hear from him.

  “Joan, our passive sensors are totally shot and I don’t want to go active unless I absolutely have to. Do you have any idea where the Bristol is?”

  “We’re pretty much flying blind here,” the Swansea’s captain replied. “We can barely see you with our passive sensors and you’re close enough to spit on.”

  Dammit. Bert O’Toole ran through his options, which didn’t take long. He could run or he could fight.

  “Joan, you reloaded yet?”

  “Fifty percent capacity, but that’s as good as it’s going to get. Two of our auto loaders are buggered. What shape are you in?”

  O’Toole grimaced. Repulse had a full loadout of missiles but only two operational lasers. Worse, the missile magazines had been damaged, so they couldn’t move any more missiles into the auto loaders. And Engineering was warning that the propulsion system was overheating and if they didn’t shut it down completely in the next thirty minutes, they would all be taking a Long Walk. “Yeah, well, we’re pretty much buggered over here, too.”

  There was a long pause. “So whatta think, Bertie?” She knew he hated that name. “Shall we run for Atlas or take another shot at these bastards?”

  O’Toole snorted. “I don’t suppose we could just demand they surrender?”

  Cummings laughed ruefully. “Well, maybe later. Rowe must be planning to attack again, and our fine feathered friends will be shooting off another round of anti-matter fireworks pretty soon. If we’re going to pop ‘em, we better do it fast. Are you up to this or not?” she demanded.

  O’Toole sighed. For a fleeting moment he pictured his wife and two daughters, then forced the images out of his mind. Play the hand you’re dealt, Bert.

  “Okay, Joan, looks like I get to dance with you after all.”

  “Sweet suffering Mothers, haven’t you gotten over that yet? All right, one dance. Let’s make it one to remember, Bertie. I’m setting AI to Max,” Cummings said.

  “Setting AI to Max,” O’Toole agreed. “Combat seperation, fire whenever you can.”

  “Last one back to Atlas buys the beer,” she said. “Swansea out.”

  O’Toole grinned and cut his connection. He turned to his bridge crew, who were staring at him with wide-eyed apprehension. “Okay, boys and girls, we’re going to dance!” He raised his voice. “Prepare decoys! Merlin, go to Max!”

  “Who shall I attack?” growled Max.

  “Advance and fire!” Captain Rowe ordered. The two cruisers and five remaining destroyers pushed past the edge of the minefield.

  “Enemy sighted!” shouted the Dominion Sensors Officer. Admiral Mello whirled to the battle display. Two red dots were emerging slowly from the Victorian minefield, slightly to the left of where they had last been spotted.

  “All ships, fire! Fire! Fire!” he yelled.

  The thirteen remaining Dominion cruisers fired their anti-matter weapons as one. Their missiles criss-crossed with the incoming Victorian missiles
and exploded. The Victorian ships and a huge piece of the minefield they were near vanished in an expanding ball of corpse-white light.

  “Reload!” ordered Admiral Mello, although the order was unnecessary. The cruisers were reloading as fast as they could.

  “What the fuck was that?” Captain Rowe screamed. “Sensors, report, dammit!”

  “Sensors identify them as the Swansea and Repulse,” the Sensors Officer said, his voice shrill with excitement and stress. “They popped out and flushed their weapons at one of the Duck cruisers, then all of the Dominion ships blasted them with anti-matter missiles.”

  “Status of Swansea and Repulse?”

  The Sensors Officer shook his head emphatically. “Code Omega, sir. No life pods, no nothin’.”

  “Enemy cruiser?”

  “They killed it, sir.”

  Well, that was something, at least, he thought bitterly. “Fire all weapons!” Rowe ordered. The two cruisers and five destroyers concentrated on four of the Dominion cruisers. All four sustained heavy damage and fell out of formation. Two of them blundered into the minefield and were chewed up by missile mines.

  “Pull back,” Rowe said again. “Reload missiles and recharge lasers!”

  The eight undamaged Dominion cruisers frantically tried to recharge their lasers, but for the moment their entire weapons array was empty and impotent. Dominion cruiser captains were not selected for their timidity, however. As one the eight ships accelerated forward, intent on maintaining sensor contact with the retreating Vickies so that they could destroy them once their weapons were back on line.

  Then the H.M.S. Everest reached the front edge of the minefield, flanked by twenty stout tugboats and their precious missile pods. More tugs were arriving behind them.

  “Merlin!” Captain Johanna Fuller called. “Slave all missile pods to you and fire when ordered.”

  A pause. “Twenty five pods are clear to fire; all systems integrated.”

  Fuller turned to her Sensors Officer. “Go active, Fiona, we’ll only get one shot.”

  Fiona nodded, pale and pinched, but her hands were steady as she typed in her orders. A moment later her sensor array blasted its energy across the incoming Dominion cruisers and her readout display lit up with tracking data. Several lights turned red and tones sounded. On the frigate’s battle display, more tugs appeared on their flanks and their missile pods synchronized with the Everest’s computer.

  “Firm locks on three of the ships coming towards us, Captain.”

  “Merlin!”

  “I have locks.”

  “Then fire, you damn computer! Fire!” Fuller said, eyes intent on the battle display, a wide grin on her face. God, she had waited so long for this!

  Admiral Mello leapt from his seat. “How did that happen?” he shouted angrily. The battle display showed that three of his remaining eight cruisers just blew apart. The Sensors Officer flinched, then stammered. “Admiral, Vicky reinforcements have just arrived. Missile pods. More are arriving.”

  Admiral Mello seethed. “Full military power! All anti-matter missiles prepare to launch on my order. Lasers, target any missile pods and fire as soon as you have a lock.” He folded his arms and glowered at the battle display.

  The battleship Vengeance leapt forward. It shouldered past the wreckage of two cruisers, simply plowing through the debris and life pods. Vicky missiles reached out for it and the Vengeance swatted them down with lasers. Its main battle lasers probed for the offending Vicky missile platforms and turned them into molten slag.

  “More missile platforms arriving,” the Sensors Officer warned.

  One thousand miles away from the Everest, Captain Rowe of the Bristol looked at his battle display, where dozens of tugboats were emerging into view on either side of a small glowing blue dot. He increased magnification and smiled when he saw the ship’s name: H.M.S. Everest. “Best damn frigate captain in the Fleet,” he muttered to himself, relief washing over him.

  “All ships,” Rowe radioed to the others, “turn around and go back to the edge of the minefield. Fire as soon as you have targets.” The seven ships wheeled about and sped back to minefield’s edge, where they would be clear to fire once more.

  We’re going to do this! Rowe thought savagely.

  Above the fighting, Emily Tuttle watched the battle display in horrid fascination. On the display the enemy battleship looked like a marauding bull, huge and unstoppable as it raced forward to join battle with the Victorian forces.

  “Geez, look at the bloody size of that thing,” someone muttered reverently.

  “‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!’” Seaman Partridge quoted softly.

  Emily looked at him and blinked in surprise. Rudd shook his head and snorted. “You have unknown depths, Mr. Partridge. Now, please, tell us what the hell is happening.”

  “Admiral, two Vicky cruisers and five destroyers are joining the missile platforms!” the Sensors Officer called out.

  Admiral Mello nodded in satisfaction. The enemy ships were massing directly in front of them. Excellent.

  A strong man can bend the universe to his will.

  “Fire the anti-matter missiles!”

  Captain Rowe watched, appalled, as the monster sized battleship appeared on his holo screen. The Bristol had arrived a moment too soon; none of his ships had had a chance to reload their missiles and only a handful of lasers were ready. He was dimly aware that more of the missile pods were firing, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  “All anti-missile batteries to full automatic!” he ordered.

  The anti-matter missiles sped towards him. Rowe just had time for a fleeting thought of his wife and teenage son. His son would grow up without-

  Then he was gone.

  Chapter 68

  On the H.M.S. New Zealand

  It could not have been worse.

  When the New Zealand’s sensors finally came back on, the rest of the Coldstream Guard was gone. Simply, irrevocably, gone. Captain Rowe and his cruisers and destroyers, Captain Fuller, the Everest and all of the tugboats had disappeared, gone in the blink of an eye. A long, winding hole had been gouged out of the minefield, with missile platforms along the edge scorched and tumbling wildly.

  The Dominion battleship and its cruiser escort had stopped, their sensors as blinded as the New Zealand’s, no doubt. Emily weighed the odds and felt only despair. One mammoth battleship and five cruisers against two damaged Vicky cruisers and two understrength destroyers. All they had in their favor was surprise.

  Then Captain Specht of the Emerald Isle flushed her missile tubes and ruined any surprise they might have had.

  “Emerald Isle, what are you doing?” Emily demanded, shock turning to anger.

  “I am firing on the enemy,” Captain Specht answered tartly, “which is more than you seem capable of.”

  “Gods of Our Mothers, you’re going to kill us all!” Emily shouted. “All ships, back into the minefield. Hurry!”

  The ships spun in place and accelerated wildly…all except the Emerald Isle. She labored to come about, but her propulsion system was too damaged to be nimble and the most she could do was slowly swing her bow away from the enemy that even now was reaching for her with active sensors. A moment later twenty five battle lasers raked the Emerald Isle from stem to stern, and a minute after that the first missiles arrived.

  On board the H.M.S. Yorkshire, Cookie watched the holo repeater in morbid silence. She was sitting on the hanger deck surrounded by her company of two hundred and forty Marines. One hundred or so carried air rifles that had been taken from the dead Savak commandoes or manufactured in the New Zealand’s work shop. The rest looked with displeasure at the six-foot sharpened poles they held in their hands.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” one husky Marine asked in disgust.

  Never taking her eyes off the holo, Cookie said: “Stick ‘em with the pointy end, Wisnioswski, then take their weapon and shoot ‘em.
”

  “Bugger me,” he muttered sullenly.

  “Shut up, Wisnioswski, you’re boring me.”

  Lori Romano came and flopped down on the deck beside her. “Cookie!” she whispered excitedly, “we’ve been playing with the transporters.” She paused, eyes gleaming.

  Cookie shifted her gaze from the holo to the AI specialist. “What? Spit it out.”

  “We’ve got a firm lock on the engine room of the big Dominion battleship,” Romano said. “We could send one hundred and twenty guys there any time you want.”

  Cookie blinked. “Really? No bullshit?” Romano nodded soberly. “How soon?” Cookie asked, excitement beginning to grip her.

  Romano shrugged. “As soon as you can get the Marines into the transporters. We’ve got them warmed up and ready to go.”

  Cookie leapt to her feet, fumbling with her communicator. “Grant? Grant? We’ve got a way to take out the battleship. Grant, answer me, dammit!”

  Two hectic minutes later, Cookie and Grant Skiffington were talking to the New Zealand via a whisker laser.

  Emily was watching the battle display when the call came in. She could see the Vengeance and its remaining five cruisers shake into formation for the final push through the minefield. Once through, there would be nothing standing between them and the Atlas except Emily’s pathetically small task force.

  “Priority message coming in from the Yorkshire, Ma-am,” Betty called out. Emily tore her eyes off the battle display with difficulty. “Put it up, Betty,” she ordered.

  Cookie and Skiffington talked excitedly, interrupting each other and at one point starting to argue, but Emily got the idea.

  “That sounds nuts!” she told them.

  “No, no Em, it’s exactly what the Tillies did to us on the London. They swarmed over us,” Cookie said breathlessly.

  Emily thought for a moment. If the battleship was out of the picture, they might be able to hold off the cruisers until Admiral Douthat got back. Then she remembered the promise she had made to Hiram.

  “Cookie, once you’re on the Vengeance, how will you get back?”