by Ryk Brown
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Sahbu answered.
“Target just lost one of her shields that was extending to cover her damaged arm, Captain!” Ensign Marka announced.
“Sugar!” Roselle called to his trusted sergeant at the starboard weapons station.
“Concentrating our midship guns on the platform’s unshielded area,” Sergeant Shugart replied.
Captain Roselle looked up at the view screens above his flight team’s heads, watching as dozens of bolts of red-orange plasma energy streaked away from his ship toward the distant target.
“Range to target is now twenty-five kilometers,” Lieutenant Sahbu reported.
“Jesus,” Lieutenant Commander Kessel muttered, staring up at the screen from the tactical station. “Twenty-five clicks away, and she still fills the view screen.”
“Damn thing is twenty clicks wide herself,” Captain Roselle said.
“Incredible,” the lieutenant commander exclaimed.
“Just keep pounding her with everything we’ve got,” the captain said.
“I’ve got thirteen of them on her now, Captain,” Ensign Shugart replied.
“Are we even making a dent?” Commander Ellison wondered.
“The first few shots tore the rest of her number two arm up,” Ensign Marka answered from the sensor station. “Arms two and three are both gone, and she’s taken some damage to her core as well. But she managed to extend other shield sections to protect herself, sir.” Ensign Marka turned to look at the captain. “And she’s launching missiles… Lots of them.”
“Be ready with those point-defenses, Flash,” Captain Roselle warned.
“I’m on it,” Sergeant Garza replied.
“Maybe we’d better take the Aurora up on her offer,” Commander Ellison suggested to his captain in a hushed voice.
“Not yet, Marty,” Captain Roselle insisted. “I want to see what this ship can really do.”
“CNS-sats are up,” Naralena reported. “We’ve got global coverage.”
“I’m getting data links,” Jessica reported from the Aurora’s tactical station.
“Here too,” Mister Navashee added. “I can see the entire surface, Captain.”
“All the Jung data-sats are gone?” Nathan asked.
“Yes, sir,” Jessica replied. “The Falcons took them out after they finished with the STO missile launchers.”
“Comms, transmit the warning broadcast globally. Set to repeat every minute.”
“What about the Jar-Benakh?” Jessica wondered. “Are we going to just sit here and wait for a response?”
“Mister Navashee?” Nathan called.
“The Jar-Benakh appears to be holding her own for now,” the sensor officer replied. “She’s pounding the platform with all her starboard guns, and fending off a wrap-around missile attack with her port side point-defenses.”
“Are they making headway?”
“It looks like two of the platform’s arms are gone, and she’s not showing any signs of maneuvering, so I’d say yes. She has managed to extend her shields over her damaged areas to protect herself, but those extended sections won’t hold as long, not while they’re trying to cover that much area.”
“We can let the comm-sats repeat the message to the people of Nifelm,” Jessica suggested.
“Someone’s gotta be here to receive a response,” Nathan reminded her.
“The message gave them twenty-four hours to respond before we start obliterating those Jung bases on the surface. Are we going to just sit here and wait for an answer while the Jar-Benakh is slugging it out with that platform?”
“Yes, we are,” Nathan replied sternly, “unless, Captain Roselle requests assistance. Those are our orders, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Aren’t they just going to abandon their bases and take cover?” Josh wondered as they circled the city of Toray, one of the six domed cities of Nifelm.
“To where, the snow?” Loki replied.
“Or into the city…duh!”
“I’m sure command has thought this through, Josh.”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”
“I’m pretty sure the message is more of a warning to the locals than to the Jung,” Loki explained. “To give them a chance to seek shelter before the attack. Those bases are awfully close to those domes, after all.”
“Still doesn’t make any sense,” Josh insisted.
“Maybe the locals can keep the Jung soldiers from entering the domes?”
“If they could, there wouldn’t be any Jung bases down there at all, Loki.”
“Probably right about that.”
“Why don’t they just send the Ghatazhak down there to attack the bases directly?”
“Even the Ghatazhak don’t want to go into that frozen wasteland,” Loki replied.
“Loki, the Ghatazhak cold-coasted across the system to that asteroid base over Tanna, remember? What was that, like twenty hours or something? In space? I’m sure a little ice and snow is nothing to them.”
“Perhaps, but the marines don’t have that kind of gear, and there aren’t enough Ghatazhak to take on all the Jung forces on Nifelm.”
“But, if the Jung go into the cities and mix in with the locals, how will the Ghatazhak tell them apart?”
“I have no idea,” Loki replied.
“Starboard shields are down to an average of forty-seven percent,” the Jar-Benakh’s tactical officer warned. “I don’t think our shields will hold longer than theirs, Captain.”
“Damn it,” Roselle cursed under his breath. “Can you reroute power from our other shields?”
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Kessel replied. “But if one of those missiles gets past our point-defenses…”
“Lieutenant Sahbu, swing our nose into the target and bring our mark fives to bear. I’m tired of this slug-fest.”
“Yawing to starboard, bringing tubes onto the target, aye,” the helmsman answered.
“As we turn, drop our other shields, starting with those aft and to port, and channel all power into our starboard shields, and then into our bow shields. We’ll give her a smaller target to shoot at.”
“Or a single shield to concentrate their firepower onto,” Lieutenant Commander Kessel warned. “That’s also going to leave the rest of the ship exposed to missile attacks, sir.”
“Keep our forward guns on the platform, and task the rest to target those inbound missiles, if you have to.”
“Our big guns weren’t designed to defend against missile attacks, sir. They don’t track that fast.”
“They don’t have to,” Commander Ellison chimed in, moving over to the tactical station to assist the lieutenant commander. “They’ll be coming straight on, not laterally.”
“Tubes are coming to bear,” Lieutenant Sahbu announced. “You should have a firing solution in fifteen seconds.”
“Transferring all shield power to bow shields,” Commander Ellison reported.
“Targeting incoming missiles with port guns,” Sergeant Garza announced.
“Same to starboard,” Sergeant Shugart added.
“I have a firing solution,” the tactical officer reported.
“All tubes, full power singles,” Captain Roselle ordered, “and keep firing.”
“All tubes, full power singles… Firing!”
“Target is launching more missiles!” Ensign Marka announced from the sensor station. “Holy crap, sir. They’re firing everything!”
“Time to impact?” Captain Roselle asked.
“First wave in seventy seconds!” the senor operator warned. “After that…”
“Fire everything you’ve got at those inbounds, boys,” Commander Ellison told his two weapons officers.
Neither sergeant replied, their attention focused on the task of preventing any of the enemy missiles from breaching their defenses.
“Target’s shields are down to thirty-four percent!” Ensign Marka reported urgently.
“Forward shields are at eighty
-five,” Commander Ellison added. “They’re pounding our shields with every rail gun they’ve got left, Gil.”
“Move in closer,” the captain ordered.
Lieutenant Sahbu turned, looking back over his shoulder at his captain in disbelief. “How close?”
“Just start toward her, Jobu!”
“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant replied.
“Add some upward drift as well, and enough pitch to keep our tubes on them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ray-ray, can you pull off a five-hundred-meter jump?”
“That’s at the bottom end of our jump range, sir,” Ensign Noray warned.
“Can you do it?”
“I can sure as hell try,” the navigator replied.
“What happens if it doesn’t work?” the captain asked.
“Worst case, we jump a little further.”
“Hopefully not right into a wave of inbound missiles,” Lieutenant Commander Kessel commented.
Captain Nash turned to look at his executive officer helping out at the tactical station.
“I see where you’re going with this, Gil,” Commander Ellison said, noticing his captain’s look.
“Target’s shields are at thirty-five percent,” Ensign Marka reported. “They’re channeling all their power into them, dropping their shields on their far side.”
“How fast?” Captain Roselle asked.
“Sir?”
“How quickly are they able to raise and lower their shields that way?”
Ensign Marka looked confused. “Uh, I’m not sure, Captain.”
“Take a guess, Weedge,” Roselle urged.
“Thirty seconds, maybe?”
“Add a little port drift as well,” Captain Roselle ordered his helmsman. “Not too much. Make it look like sloppy piloting or something.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Forward shields down to seventy percent,” Commander Ellison reported.
“Five-hundred-meter jump, plotted and ready,” the navigator announced.
“Helm, increase your rate of pitch change. Execute the jump,” Captain Roselle ordered.
“Jumping.”
Captain Roselle paused a moment.
“Jump complete.”
“How long until we have a firing angle?”
“Five seconds,” the helmsman replied.
“We’re no longer taking rail gun fire…”
“…Missiles high to port, fifteen seconds…”
“…I’m on them…”
“…I have a solution…”
“Fire and repeat!” the captain ordered.
“Firing all tubes!”
“Keep your rate of pitch change,” Roselle added. “Ray-ray, as soon as we lose the firing solution, jump us again.”
“I got it, Captain,” the navigator replied, realizing his captain’s plan, as he glanced at the helmsman, who had the same look of comprehension on his face.
“Taking fire again,” Commander Ellison warned. “Their guns have reacquired us.”
“Stop firing whenever we jump, then resume as soon as we come out,” Roselle added.
“We can’t keep that rate of fire up for long,” Commander Ellison warned.
“Target’s shields are down to twenty percent!” the sensor officer reported.
“Flash, yours is the hardest job,” Roselle warned. “Every time we jump…”
“Understood.”
“We’re losing the solution,” the tactical officer warned.
“Jump us again, Ray-Ray.”
“Jumping.”
“Bow shields down to fifty percent,” Commander Ellison warned.
“Jump complete,” Ensign Noray reported.
“Five seconds to solution,” the tactical officer reported.
“Their shields?” Roselle asked. “Are the rest of them down?”
“Firing all tubes again,” Lieutenant Commander Kessel announced as he resumed firing the Jar-Benakh’s massive, mark five plasma torpedo cannons.
The Jar-Benakh drifted slowly upward and to port, relative to the massive Jung battle platform now only ten kilometers away from them. Bolts of plasma energy streamed outward in all directions from more than one hundred point-defense turrets, while much larger balls of plasma targeted missiles further out as they raced around the battle platform and toward the Jar-Benakh. The battleship’s bow shields shimmered as swarms of pale blue flashes reported the impacts of hundreds, if not thousands, of rail gun slugs, some of them as large as a Cobra gunship.
The battle platform’s only active shield, the one protecting her already damaged areas, as well as the still intact arms within reach of the Jar-Benakh’s weapons, flashed reddish-orange with the impact of each mark five plasma torpedo. Massive rail gun muzzles of turrets located on the arms of the battle platform repeatedly flashed blue-green as slugs left their rails, streaking toward their attacker.
Then, without warning, the attacking battleship disappeared behind a flash of blue-white light, reappearing five hundred meters away from their last position, moving up and left relative to the battle platform in the blink of an eye.
The exchange of weapons fire by either ship ceased for a moment, starting up again a few seconds later. First, the battleship’s point-defenses fired, then her main guns, and finally her forward torpedo tubes. Seconds later, the battle platform’s massive rail guns reacquired the attacking battleship, and resumed firing.
“Target’s shields are holding at twelve percent!” Ensign Marka exclaimed. “They’re pumping everything they’ve got into those shields, Captain! They’re launching gunships as well! Out of the number five arm!”
“Our bow shields are down to twenty percent!” Commander Ellison warned. “We can’t take much more of this!”
“Jobu! Translate hard to port! Full thrust!” Captain Roselle ordered. “Give me a one-click snap jump!”
“Translating to port, full thrust…”
“One-click snap jump…in five…”
“Kessel, cease fire!”
“Four…”
“Holding fire on the mark fives,” the tactical officer answered.
“Three…”
“Eighteen percent and falling!”
“Stand by to pitch down and starboard, hard as you can!”
“Two…”
“Stand by to fire all mark fives, full power!”
“One…”
“And don’t stop!” the captain added.
“Jumping!”
“Down and starboard! Now! Now! Now!” Captain Roselle ordered.
“Jump complete!”
“Pitching down and starboard hard as I can,” the helmsman replied.
“Holy crap!” Ensign Marka exclaimed with excitement. “We’ve got a clear firing line! No shields between us and the target!”
“How long, Jobu?” Captain Roselle asked his helmsman.
“Fifteen seconds, sir.”
“The platform has dropped their last shield. They’re powering up the shields between us and them, Captain!” the sensor officer warned.
“How long?”
“Unknown!” Ensign Marka replied. “I’m reading massive power transfers from all over the ship!”
“They’re bring their guns around,” Commander Ellison warned. “They’re reacquiring.”
“Missile launches!” Ensign Marka warned. “Number five arm! Directly ahead! Impacts in twenty seconds!”
“We don’t have enough guns forward to stop those missiles, Gil!” Commander Ellison warned.
Captain Roselle stood motionless, waiting for the last few seconds of his plan to unfold.
“Firing solution in three…”
“Fire all tubes…”
“Two…”
“Fifteen seconds to impact!”
“One…”
“Incoming rail gun fire!” Commander Ellison warned.
“Firing all tubes!” the tactical officer announced.
“Target’s raising shields!”
the sensor officer reported. “Ten seconds to missile impact!”
“We can’t reach them!” Sergeant Garza realized in a panicked voice.
“Stand by with another five-hundred-meter snap jump,” Roselle ordered.
“Firing again!”
“DIRECT HITS!” Ensign Marka exclaimed triumphantly.
“Cease fire!” Captain Roselle ordered. “Snap jump!”
“Ceasing fire…”
“Snap jump, aye…”
“Keep pitching down and starboard to keep our tubes on her, Jobu,” Roselle instructed.
“Jump complete,” Ensign Noray reported.
“I’m on it,” the helmsman assured his captain.
“They missed!” Ensign Marka exclaimed. “The missiles slid right under us!”
“I have another firing solution,” Lieutenant Commander Kessel reported. “Firing all tubes!”
“Number five arm is heavily damaged!” Ensign Marka announced. “The core has taken several direct hits as well!”
“Keep firing!” Roselle instructed.
Massive, red-orange balls of plasma leapt from the underside of the Jar-Benakh’s bow, streaking toward the Jung battle platform, and slamming into her core structures. Within the platform, secondary explosions sent debris spewing out in all directions. Rail guns stopped firing. Missile launchers stopped launching. More importantly, there were no shields active.
“She’s lost main power!” Ensign Marka reported. “No shields anywhere!”
“Can she still fire?” Roselle asked.
“No, sir! She’s dead in space! She is launching every gunship and every shuttle she’s still got inside!”
“Lieutenant Sahbu. Circling course from five clicks out. Keep our starboard broadside cannons on her,” Captain Roselle instructed. “Sergeant Shugart, pound her with everything you’ve got. Sergeant Garza, keep our far side protected, in case any of those fleeing gunships try to be heroes for their stinkin’ empire.” Captain Roselle stood tall, breathing in deep, savoring his victory. “Gentlemen, let’s finish this bitch off for good, shall we?”
“Incoming transmission from the surface,” Naralena reported from the Aurora’s comm station.