To:All Fifth Mobile Commanders; Commander IGB
C.C.C&C Rigil Campus
Date:May 11, 2262
Admirals,
In light of current events, we are postponing the planned action until June 1, 2262. We will modify plan number 16-48-102-2-04; adapting it as required.
You are ordered and required to stand down from current tactical plans and report to me at my office aboard the Valhalla at ten hundred hours, on May 18, 2262.
Flt. Admiral George Bryant
As usual Roh and Moe are present as we author the orders; so, it is easy for them to forward the documents to the right personnel and retrieve edited versions within an hour. We use our electronic stylus to sign; and, transmit them. As we sit talking, a memo comes in.
MEMO
UNCLASSIFIED - In the Clear
From:R. Admiral Savign Commander IGB Covert Special Force
To: Adm. K Brubacher Commander IGB Adm. G.T. Bryant Commander Fifth Mobile RAC
C.C.OFSA Office of C&C
Re:Tactical Action Message #IGB62-CO8201(LC)
Date:May 11, 2262
Admirals,
Commodore Simmons and I are on our way to the Valhalla, to see you regarding the above order. We will arrive in one hour forty-five minutes.
Regards,
R. Admiral Savign
That means Savign won't appear in George's office until fifteen hundred. If it's anything complex, it could take a couple of hours. I get antsy; if, I can't get back home for Bryant by seventeen hundred. Despite the war, Bryant is a priority; because he has no mom.
When Savign and David show, they give us great news. It seems all the devices planted on the enemy vessels are continuously tracked by SOCC. The two flag officers know exactly which mines were not destroyed. We have been lucky. All the ships originating in the central battlefield are mined. Only the incoming ships are not. So, nearly half the force is set for destruction.
We talk it over and agree we will do just fine; as is. No additional mining is needed.
We alter the SOCC orders. Savign is to detonate the first hundred when we launch and the next two hundred fifty as we are approaching the battle zone. This should cause so much confusion that; we will be able to handle the enemy fleet. We will use the other more than two hundred if needed.
We also direct SOCC to beef-up the picket line; and send a second force, equal to the first, to HAT-P-11e to relieve the first, before the bombardment date. The relief force will bombard on June 1, and remain with force deployed until June 15. I invite them all back to the Examiner for dinner in my quarters. This will be an excellent opportunity for them to see Bryant's progress. It turns into a great evening.
I suggest we quarter them; and, they stay over, for the night. There is a memorial at eleven hundred hours, tomorrow for the thousands lost on May 8.
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At ten hundred on May 18, I join all other senior commanders in George's office. There's barely enough room for the Draco and Bootes Commanders when they report, at eleven hundred. We all have our COS with us, as usual; so, there are sixteen in the office; before the two Fleet Commanders arrive. But, theirs is just a visit. They are attached to Theatre Twelve and dismissed. We go over the revised 16-48-102-2-04 plan. The original variants will work with the idea devised by George and me. Everyone knows their responsibilities. We hash out additional questions and "what-ifs." It's sixteen hundred by the time we disburse.
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May 25 is a tough one. It is Bryant's two-month birthday. I try not to let him feel it; but, it's also a sad reminder, for me. I have to tell myself out loud that; this type of remorse cannot be part of any events in his life. I do not want him ever thinking I associate Helena's death with his birth. It would not be fair.
He is too young to understand; so, I give him the gift of time. I leave work early. We spend time just playing baby games. I must admit, it relieves a lot of my stress, too. He's a great little guy. He only cries when something is wrong, and he has a real need. He is mostly absorbed by the new things around him; or, happy and laughing at something silly, I do. He already loves to splash in the tub.
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We are almost at our destination. The Examiner has remained linked with Savign and the Valhalla; while in transit to the battle zone. SOCC has destroyed the one hundred enemy vessels used as a diversion to hide our launch. As we all jump out, the remaining Theatre Twelve ships and the two added Fleets move forward to hold the gap; and, act as a reserve, if needed.
Examiner is with my Theatre Eleven Force, which will land above the enemy; while, Elasima, aboard the Interrogator will accompany Theatre Thirteen to a position below their encampment.
At the same time we land, Stevens, with half of Theatre Twelve, will hit from the front; while Theatre Ten strikes from both flanks.
Five minutes before our projected landings, SOCC will detonate another two hundred fifty mines to further confuse our adversary, before we actually break into normal space. The five minutes' lead time should be enough of an interval for flying projectiles to pass our landing sites.
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Major Velky Kaule peruses their cover carefully. The cave will provide more than adequate protection against the two shockwaves that will come from nearly opposite directions, at the same time. It's mouth faces east; and, the two nearest detonations will be located to the north, northeast and the south, southwest. Each site is about fifteen kilometers away. Anyone caught outside could be crushed by the force of the shockwave. From here, they will be able to observe the destruction using the cameras and sensors they have left behind.
Velky is a gruff, tall, leathery, mixed-race, athletic individual; who is extremely experienced in ground operations. He appears quite robotic in all the combat paraphernalia Special Forces Marines dawn for an assault. At forty-nine years of age, the Major has been in four sizeable ground actions; including the ones on Rho Corona and Rigil. Though outwardly fearless, his real strength has been to learn to maintain a calm, thoughtful disposition; despite whatever fears he may internalize.
Both detonations will be generated by the kinetic force of the "Spears of Fears" which will be launched from orbital subs; each targeted to destroy a military fabrication facility. One location produces Casimir FTL assemblies. The other manufactures FTL propulsion systems.
Velky had decided to lead the two ground teams, himself; though, he was the senior Marine commander for the SOCC Group Three Marines. He wanted to be absolutely positive; every precaution was taken to avoid civilian casualties. He also wanted to eliminate communications with orbiting vessels. Radio signals are traceable; and, laser communications would literally point directly to one craft. By transferring Command and Control of the covert SF Marines to the ground, he ensured the security of the subs circling overhead.
Entering the narrow mouth of the cave, each marine has to crawl along a tricky constricted shaft; leading into a tall cavernous space of considerable size. The capacious compartment offers enough room for all ten team members with their personal gear and the space to organize monitoring equipment in some sort of logical fashion.
HAT - P - 11e is a fairly arid world on the surface; except for a few lakes and streams; where the extensive aquifer breaks the surface. The planet's inhabitants have built almost everything in subterranean complexes. Only limited agriculture is located on the surface. In a testament to inadequate prudence, civilian hives had been fabricated under mountains or tall hills; while, industrial and military campuses had been assembled in caverns hollowed out a mere thirty meters underground. The Spears can even penetrate granite, at that depth.
As he peers into the valley below, Kaule is satisfied that the farms he can see will weather little of the force from t
he two blasts. They will be on the outer boundaries of where the two atmospheric disturbances will travel. Most of the force should dissipate, before reaching them.
The two ten-person teams landed on HAT-P-11e nearly two months earlier. This one was in the central-west region of its single major continent. The other landed ten thousand kilometers to the southeast. Both had chosen positions a few kilometers from very active industrial complexes. From there, they had made constant covert forays into enemy territory, examining and investigating one underground complex after another, employing seismic and ground penetrating receivers, analyzed by sophisticated computer software to determine the nature of each installation. High explosive charges had been rigged at many; while, others were targeted for bombardment, from space. The tension during this entire phase of the operations had been palpable; only relieved by retreating into their hideaways.
Now, all they can do is wait and watch.
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It's eleven hundred, now; and, the battle has been raging for some time. Though we allowed time for flying debris to dissipate, conditions were quite perilous as our ninety-six warships and two hundred fighters materialized, over our battle site, several hours ago. Countless dangerous jagged shards of various metals and rigid synthetic material orbited each other in collections circling still larger assemblages; including partial hulls and burnt out shells of once powerful armed transports. Undetected by our still potent but, overwhelmed antagonists; we course our way through the chaos, in route to the lethal engagement; unexpected and unwelcomed by our treacherous adversaries; each carrier launching four more fighters, every seven seconds. I check my monitors to see that; every other site is achieving the same result.
As we bear down on our objectives, directions communicated throughout our formation initiate our armaments; which generate discharge streams, so dense; a person could stroll atop them to reach the intended target. Some ships explode instantaneously; others tilt against the onslaught like buildings in the path of the powerful winds of a massive hurricane. But, after that normal, confused, reaction time, some turn to alter the scene from an ambush to a contest.
I can make out four of the six IGB Fleets in this sector. They are perfectly located; their Groups deployed in lines just above the enemy; with the Examiner and the Theatre Eleven Flag Ship the Investigator in tight formation, at precisely the same declination and at the mid-point of the entire configuration. While our protective flotillas give us covering fire, the two behemoths spray hell, horror, and death, on the enemy, from their hundreds of weapons systems; while launching half their combined contingent of Raptors into the fray. We are at station keeping and so close to the action, we are nearly hit several times by brawling fighters turning to avoid or target an opposing craft; while attempting to dodge our massive and very solid profiles and our intense armaments onslaught. Then, it happens. One of our combatants destroys an enemy fighter twenty meters off our bow; as our shields are absorbing multiple hits. I recoil as viscous red fluid splats across the view window; freeze drying to a lucent goldish yellow, in an instant in the bitter environment of open space. And, shards of metal, glass and plastics actually penetrate the shielding and collide with the hull transmitting a staccato of clicks, clanks, and bangs through the Flag Bridge. The entire team appears dismayed. Only those things that could actually destroy us should be able to penetrate the three-layer energy barrier that surrounds us.
I replay the scene, in slow-motion, in my mind. As the enemy craft hits our shields, it's slowed so suddenly; inertia accelerates the pilot through the canopy's front screen at near supersonic velocity; turning his body into nothing but bloody mush, when he collides with the Examiner Hull. The freezing cold and lack of pressure instantaneously freeze his remains; then, all the fluids and dissolved gasses evaporate the mess into something that resembles a dried urine stain. Pieces of the airframe, slowed by the shields, follow him into the rock hard face of our ship. Though all my people and I are momentarily devoted to killing this adversary, it is nerve shattering to see anyone die in such a manner. But, aside from my fleeting flinch, I cannot show anything but a calm certainty. These poor souls all look to me for confidence and composure.
Now, sporadic fractions of our deadly torrent are intercepted; while cascades of particle charges, kinetic bulks, and targeted missiles are leveled at all the vessels in our flotilla. A large percentage are blocked; but, many do penetrate our defensive fire. For the most part, our electronic armor protects us; but, some projectiles do penetrate; damaging; and, even destroying some of the ships in our group. Dogfights fill the open spaces. Raptors chase enemy fighters and vice versa; zig zagging through the corridors between the massive warships. Our local radio aerospace communications channel is full of pilots calling to each other. Watch your six - I'll get that bastard off your back - Cut, hard to Starboard; are among the countless demands and advice that cross these airwaves. Though it's all organized confusion, from our point of view; it does seem very chaotic.
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Senior Captain Zairian, from the fifth planet in the system Zavijava, is unintentionally intimidating; when he issues an order. The sheer size and structure of the man make him appear menacing to most other Orion Federation species. But, most of the crew of the FSS Stingray, his sub, has been with him for a couple of years; and know, he is a warm and considerate person. And, they have convinced the teams on the other six subs in the pack, of that fact. So, the entire assemblage acts as a unified body.
Two weeks ago, Zairian's group had relieved the detachment that had first encircled HAT-P-11E. He had spent a full day with that group's Senior Captain; who had briefed him on the current status of deployed SF teams. They had devised a way to replace those troops undetected. Zairian had delivered amended orders to his counterpart, from Admiral Savign. The primary flotilla would find a place nearby and stand down, until June 1, 2262, at three hundred hours; when they would reactivate and join the other force. The two would apply the remedy the OFSA had prescribed for the planet below.
Now both groups encircled the enemy homeworld; the Inscrutables still unaware of their presence; or the SF forces installed on their world. In the past month, the two Marine platoons had beamed up a ton of information. Their foe lived underground; but, these were not caves or hovels. They were expansive, stylish, technologically advanced residential, industrial, economic and military installations. Even those who farmed the surface lived in underground villages and towns. For the most part, the surface was clean and pristine; though, mostly arid. An underground labyrinth of tunnels connected all these settlements by high-speed train and telecommunications lines. Aquifers supply crystal clear water to the settlements. One hundred thirty-seven primary targets had been identified as producing most of the parts and assemblies employed in building their ships. Of those, the twenty-eight most critical had been selected for destruction. All SF ground forces had been advised; and, given time to relocate to areas that would not be affected by residue or fallout.
Now, it was up to Zairian to give the order. He elected to employ Spears for most of the targets. They would penetrate the ground and not leave radioactive contamination behind. A few hardened massive targets, large surface launch facilities and orbiting space docks would be annihilated by fusion and anti-matter torpedoes. He monotonously went through his checklist for the third time with his subordinates. He did not want to kill his own people or innocent civilians, and, he did not want to destroy infrastructure like schools or hospitals.
"All ships ready!" "Lock in all firing solutions and navigation!" "Fire!" He pauses for nearly a half minute between each order.
Twenty-eight assorted projectiles begin their journey. There is a prolonged delay; then, flashes followed by mushroom clouds appear on the surface. There are only brilliant flares at the space-borne targets. The Captain observes the monitors intently; anticipating bett
er visibility at each ground zero. Two and a half hours later, he can clearly see the deep abysses and scars on the surface. Giant craters are already filling with water.
"Weapons, double-check the positions of all strikes. Make sure we hit what we were aiming at!' He orders. 'Sensor station, make sure we have images and data of all sites at all wavelengths! Communications, transmit that order to all orbiting subs!" He snaps.
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Major Velky Kaule sits in the cave opening; eyeing both his data pad and the distant horizon. Nearly simultaneously he sees two brilliant flashes in the distance; one to his north-east, the other to his southwest. On his screen, he observes the two forming mushroom clouds; then, switches views to confirm the ones at other locations. Looking into the distance, he sees the closer billows against a backdrop of more distant ones.
Even from fifteen kilometers away, he detects the warping atmosphere; as the shockwaves race spherically outward from their central detonation point. He lingers a little; finally, retreating into the protection of the cave. He knows it only takes fifty-four seconds for the wavefront to reach their refuge.
Scrutinizing each site on the cavern installation's main screen, he discerns tons of pulverized material being sucked up through the central shaft of each rising cloud. It will take some time before each ground-zero is visible enough to determine the result. It's time to enjoy his delayed breakfast.
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Senior Captain Stephenson, son of Admiral William Stephenson, from Earth, checks the chronometer, before directing an order to all the covert vessels in his twenty-eight ship armada. The detachment had been doubled by Admiral Savign a few weeks ago. It was doing picket duty in four-ship-packs spread over an area half a degree square. The group had spent the last several months determining that; all incoming Inscrutable vessels exited their jumps here; and spent the next half day cruising the one-hundred-fifty-million-kilometer-long corridor to the rear of their front lines.
Righteous Reign The Series: E-version Boxed Set Edition Page 89