Waking the Sleeping Giant: The First Terran Interstellar War 2 (Founding of the Federation Book 5)

by Chris Hechtl

  Jan's jaw worked for a moment before she replied. “Yeah, I'd say we're just a teeny bit outnumbered here.”

  “Should we retreat?” Willard asked worriedly.

  “Hell no! We just got here! Besides,” the vice admiral smiled a feral smile that was like a tonic to the bridge staff. “Numbers aren't everything. I'm curious how the new toys will work to redress the differences in size and numbers,” she said. She wasn't certain how Walter had gotten the prototypes out to her so quickly but she wasn't going to complain. Not when she was ready to field test them in a “live fire exercise.”

  Commander Willard nodded. He looked far from reassured, however, at taking an untested weapon into combat. She couldn't blame him.

  “One way or another we're going to bleed them. We'll go with plan Delta One,” the vice admiral said as she glanced at the CAG's image and then to each of the captain's images.

  “Aye aye, ma’am. I'll get the tugs moving then,” Commander Oh stated.

  “Good. Tactical, have the shot set up. Distribute the fire control as you see fit. The sooner we get the tugs moving the better. We need to get in and bloody their noses good before they fully recover from jump shock,” Jan ordered.

  “Working on the telemetry now, ma'am,” Lieutenant Commander Alton Krenshaw, her staff tactical officer, replied with a tight nod.

  Jan nodded. That was exactly what she wanted to hear, that Alton was already anticipating her and on top of the situation. “Good. Excellent.”

  “What about the new weapons, ma'am?” Captain Bao asked. “Will they make enough of a difference?”

  “We'll see. Get them prepped,” she ordered, turning slightly to Alton. When he nodded and threw her a thumbs-up but didn't look up, her lips quirked briefly in amusement as she turned to Commander Hatfield's image. “CAG, we're going to need your people prepped and ready to launch at a moment's notice,” she warned, turning to Adrienne's image.

  “We're prepped now, ma'am,” Adrienne replied with a curt nod. “The pilots are in their planes and are ready for a magnum launch.”

  “Good.”

  (@)()(@)

  When they got the order, the tugs swung into action even before the enemy fleet's hyper wake had finished dissipating. Twelve automated tugs pushed an octagon shaped 100-meter-long rod with a cluster of missile pods attached to them. Each rod had ten missile pods on each of the eight sides of the rod. Each missile pod had ten missiles, of which two were built as offensive aides, packed with the latest in ECM and decoys instead of a warhead.

  When they got near the outer range of the missiles engagement zone, the tugs detached from the rods and the missile pods kicked off the rods. They used their internal RCS to orient on the targets based on the network data being transmitted to them from their mother ships and then drifted further in on ballistic for the next thirty seconds.

  When they reached a prearranged invisible line in space, they adjusted themselves and then fired. Nine hundred and sixty missiles spread out in three waves, each targeting the eighteen warships.

  (@)()(@)

  The Herd Alpha bull reacted to the massive missile launch by following established protocol. The herd had faced such swarms of robotic craft before. He ordered the warships to fire a swarm of rail guns in the path to block them.

  He was not confident that they'd get all of the incoming robotic craft so he ordered the herd to maneuver in order to try to get clear of them. He also countered his order to have Dreamer report to him. He had a feeling the engineer would be needed where he was at.

  (@)()(@)

  Dreamer was shocked and surprised by the sighting of alien ships and of the coming battle. The rest of the herd was alarmed; he was curious as to how the aliens had made the ships so quickly. He tried to get more information about them, but his duties to the ship superseded his curiosity.

  For the moment at least.

  (@)()(@)

  The small computer brains in the missiles followed their programming with exquisite precision. At a prearranged point in space, the network sent out the directive to split up. One half of the force went high, the other low to arch around any incoming rail gun rounds. The maneuver wasn't perfectly timed. A quarter of the missiles in the rear were caught out and destroyed, but the rest managed to get up and around the cloud of metal and then maneuver back on course to their intended targets. They drifted as their sensors picked up their targets once more, then the network shifted priorities to compensate for the destroyed missiles. When they were ready, they went into sprint mode for the final charge.

  (@)()(@)

  The Alpha bull saw the robotic craft split up and barked orders to spread their fire. But it was already too late; the missiles had gotten around his initial broadside and were on their final attack profiles. As he watched their engines kicked on, and they charged straight into his fleet's teeth.

  The ship rocked as nuclear explosions ripped and tore at their shields. The shields shrugged off the initial hits but there were scores of them. The relentless pounding wore them down. When they buckled the last of the plasma and energy began to rip and gouge at the armor covering the ship. Great chunks were ablated away along with any sensors and equipment on the surface.

  (@)()(@)

  Admiral Kepler nodded as she saw the explosions of nuclear fire, like fireworks going off in the face of the enemy. “CAG, launch the bombers. Get in there while they are blinded,” she ordered. She'd left that order a bit long she realized, biting her lip. She should have gotten the bombers out and away just before the missiles went off and timed them to come in after the nuclear fire had dissipated.

  Hopefully, it would be the first and only mistake she made she thought to herself.

  “The wing is launching now,” Ensign Lex reported. “No problems reported. The supply shuttles will launch twenty minutes after the wing in order to make the rendezvous for their refueling,” he reported.

  “Understood,” Jan said with a curt nod. “What's the enemy's damage assessment?”

  “A bloodied nose,” Alton replied. “CIC is tentative. We knocked some of the shields down and hurt three of the cruisers. They are adjusting their formation as they deal with their damage. The shields are already coming back online.”

  “But they know we can hurt them,” Willard stated.

  “Exactly,” Alton said. “Pity we don't have more missile pods,” he said with a shake of his head. “A couple more flights like that and we would have really done some damage.”

  As she watched the first of the bombers launch, she turned to Willard. “Get everything we've got and the logs and dump them into the first Spaceduck and get her out of here now. Reserve the next one in line for a follow-up.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am,” her chief of staff replied, passing on the orders. Within a minute the little ship's engines lit up and then icons appeared showing her hyperdrive charging gratifyingly quickly. The crew was obviously on the ball. That was good.

  “All remaining support ships are to fall back on the cache,” she ordered crisply. “Have communications set up a running log to each of the support ships. I intend to send another the moment the engagement is concluded.”

  If they survived.

  Chapter 14

  Lieutenant Commander Adrienne Hatfield settled herself quickly as she strapped her fighter on. The tech checked her rigging and then checked her fittings for her life support and data feed before he leaned back and closed her cockpit. “Here we go again,” she muttered as the tech slid down and then moved the ladder to the next fighter.

  Lexington had only just settled down into her second month of being on station. Initially she had been alarmed at being stuck out there, the sharp end of the spear with no support or hope of rescue around them. It was too easy to down a bird because of a stupid ten-cent part, and the void was a vast and lonely place to get lost in.

  She saw motion as she checked her readings but ignored the sight of the last bomber launching. She would be up next, leading the fighters off
. The bombers would form up under their squadron commanders and then move out to get to the enemy as quickly as possible.

  The admiral had left it a bit late she realized. They should have been launching and sticking close to the carrier while the missiles had been moving in, then sprinted in as the missiles made their final attack runs. The explosions would have covered them for a part of their run, and by the time the enemy's sensors had cleared and they'd started to get a handle on their damage control, the carrier wing would have been slipping into extreme range.

  But it wasn't meant to be. So, they'd just do it the hard way she vowed. One way or another they'd get the job done. Too much was riding on them to fail.

  (@)()(@)

  The herd Alpha bull brushed off dust as he checked the herd's damage reports. The alien robotic craft had been fiendishly clever in getting into range. Some had given off false spoor near the end of their attack runs, sending his sensor techs into a tizzy of false reports and misleading information. They had also set off jamming, fuzzing up his sensors to make it even harder to get a lock on the targets. He didn't like that.

  All of his warships had been hurt in the brief but savage mauling. Several of the herd defenders had lost their shields completely. His great defenders and lesser defender shields were recovering but ever so slowly. When the sensor bulls reported new contacts coming upon them, he ordered the cruisers without shields to tuck themselves in behind the bulk of their larger consorts until they could recover.

  “Herd Leader, reports of small craft launching from one of the alien ships. They are forming up and moving this way.”

  “Small craft? Not more robotic craft?” the Alpha bull asked carefully as he rubbed his chin and studied the report. There were six eights of them.

  “The range is too long to be certain. They appear to be small craft,” the sensor tech said, wrinkling his nose. He put the image on the screen of the alien ship. It had bays, and as they watched, they could just make out a small craft launch out of it.

  “The small craft are not cylindrical like the recent attack,” the sensor bull reported.

  “Perhaps boarding craft? Or resupply vehicles for the missiles?” the weapons bull asked.

  “I don't like it. They are a threat. Order the herd to fire on them with all available weapons,” the Alpha bull ordered.

  “As you command herd Leader,” the weapons bull replied with a dutiful nod.

  (@)()(@)

  Excitement was warring with terror at the sight of the alien behemoths they were about to tangle with. Hopefully, her people were settling down as their training kicked in. She'd been through it before, but not with so many alien ships on her scopes.

  Each of her three bomber squadrons was set to take on a single behemoth. They'd do what damage they could and then retreat. Her fighters had a single ship killer each as well as ECM packages to confuse the enemy. Their intended target were any cruisers or targets of opportunity. It would take concentrated efforts from her fighters to get through the enemy shields and armor she knew, something she'd just finished retelling her people.

  “Jink, people!” the lead bomber called out urgently as she saw a wall of metal headed directly at them at incredible speeds.

  “Split tail!” Adrienne snarled; pulling up on her stick hard until it practically buried itself into her abdomen. Her fighter climbed to get around the mass headed their way.

  (@)()(@)

  “The wing has split,” Willard reported.

  “All ships jink! Adjust course and heading,” Admiral Kepler stated, running the numbers with quick flicks of her fingers.

  “I can help with that, ma'am,” Lex said at her side.

  “Check my numbers, will you?” Jan asked with a nod of agreement as she continued to set up a course. She wanted a firing pass for the cruisers, not a head-on engagement. She knew they didn't have the mass to take on those aliens and live.

  “Got it. Here is what you are after, correct?” the A.I. asked.

  “Right, feed it to the helm of the ships. Lex, we're going to back off.”

  “Understood.”

  “Resupply shuttles are loading now. They'll be launching soon,” Willard warned.

  “They'll have to wait a moment. We need to move,” Jan ordered.

  (@)()(@)

  The herd Alpha saw the alien craft split up into two groups to climb and dive around the mass of rail gun rounds his ships were turning out against them. As they moved the herd's turrets tried to reorient on them, but they were giving off a buzzing signal that turned their long-range sensors into balls of fuzz.

  “Lead the targets,” he ordered.

  “We're trying, but they keep changing direction,” the ship's weapon tech reported.

  “Then they are burning fuel. They will have little time to loiter. Are those boarding craft?” the herd Alpha bull demanded.

  “Unknown,” the weapon tech stated.

  That was an answer that didn't sit well with the Alpha bull. He didn't like facing unknown weapons. The enemy must think such small craft had a purpose. What though?

  (@)()(@)

  The split tail maneuver had thrown her squadrons off course and into disarray, but it had been anticipated. The continuous jinking and jamming made it harder for the squadron commanders to reestablish their coordination and control, but at least each ship knew their targets ahead of time.

  Adrienne settled herself. She had to trust her people, trust that they would stick to the plan. She could see the alien ships sending out wave after wave of rail gun rounds in a vain attempt at taking out some of her craft. But each were maneuvering, burning fuel in a reckless disregard as they jinked and dove at their prey.

  The damn shuttles better be where they were supposed to be, she thought briefly before her Artoo beeped a warning that they were in extreme missile range. “Just a little closer,” she murmured.

  (@)()(@)

  Bomber Squadron 3's Lieutenant Eleanor 'Eli' Perry grimaced as her battleship target became obstructed by another battleship. Instead of going for it, she made an executive decision. “Go for the slightly smaller one. The battle cruiser here,” she said, redesignating a target for her squadron.

  (@)()(@)

  As the small craft got closer, they became easier to see. The rail gun mounts began to send more and more metal closer to their locations.

  The flagship's weapon mounts had benefited the best from Dreamer's computer changes. They sent out streams of metal into the eight and four craft coming at them. Two, then three of the craft erupted into brief fireballs as they were hit. Even a glancing blow was fatal for such small craft.

  Three then four more were destroyed before the craft launched their munitions. Caught off guard, the weapon controllers initially kept on attacking the small craft before they were urgently ordered to target the small robotic craft instead.

  By the time their turrets tracked back to them and locked on, the torpedoes had spread out and were jinking as they settled into their final courses.

  (@)()(@)

  Adrienne rolled her ship between two incoming masses. She was Zen, in the black zone and able to dodge the incoming fire. A butterfly in a hurricane, but one still alive as the beeping tone Artoo fed into her headset took on a more urgent and faster beat before it became a steady bee sound. She flipped up her trigger guard and then squeezed the trigger. “Fox one!” she barked over the radio as she jinked her ship and altered course radically.

  She sucked in and did a crunch as her inertial dampeners couldn't keep up with the gravity sheer of her radical maneuver. Her G suit and implants activated, bands constricted on her limbs to force the blood to remain in her chest and head to keep her conscious. Her vision still wavered a bit before the G's slacked off and she recovered.

  She flicked her fingers to the rear camera controls and studied the view through her implants. “Beautiful,” she murmured as she saw the cruiser she'd targeted vomit flame and debris.

  “Squadron commanders, give me a SITR
EP. All squadrons form up on my beacon and head for point Delta,” she ordered as she started to get a rough assessment of the brief battle. When she noted the number of IFF, she winced.

  (@)()(@)

  The herd Alpha bull snarled as he looked at his losses. The infernal craft had destroyed one of his battlecruisers and two of his cruisers while hammering the shields and armor of his great defenders. Each of the other ships had taken varying degrees of damage in the exchange. One of the great defenders had lost half of her engines, and her shields on one flank were gone. More of his cruisers were hurt.

  But that was it. The surviving small craft were already retreating away from his ships to a point in space near their mother ships.

  “Our turn,” he said as his baleful eyes locked onto the enemy ships.

  “Alpha?”

  “It is time to charge. Alter course, down their throats. We shall drive them and bury them under our hooves,” the herd Alpha bull ordered.

  There was a rumble of approval from those around him on the bridge.

  (@)()(@)

  “We have received a signal from the CAG—one battle cruiser and two cruisers destroyed, one battleship damaged,” Ensign Lex reported. “Two of the bomber squadrons that went after the battleships took heavy losses.”

  “Tough damn ships,” Alton muttered.

  “Damn tough,” Jan replied with a shake of her head. The wing had done a good job of taking out some of the ships, but she'd hoped for better.

  “They are coming,” Willard warned, looking up from his station. “They've changed course and are charging directly for us,” he stated.

  “I see that,” Admiral Kepler noted. “Lexington will keep the range open while launching the resupply shuttles for the fighters and bombers. Cruisers and destroyers to screen the carrier. Agamemnon, you are up,” she ordered.