by Chris Hechtl
“Yes, we will. We need to stop testing and engage fully,” the Alpha bull growled. He turned to the weapons bull. “Set up the shot. All of our cruisers firing on their escorts. We need to sweep them clear quickly. Coordinate with the bombers; they leave soon?”
“Yes, Herd Leader.”
“Make sure the bombers are in flight before we launch.”
“They are launching as we speak.”
“Then you better hurry,” the Alpha bull ordered, making a brushing motion for the weapons bull to get to work. The weapons bull nodded once and then turned to his subherd and began to issue terse instructions to them and to other weapon herds in the fleet.
Chapter 43
“Sir, Admiral Oh reports his ships are ready to fire,” Commander Fowler reported.
Admiral Rutledge grunted as he came out of the head. “What is the setup?” he asked as he dried his hands on his thighs slightly.
“Four missiles each from twelve of the tin cans, eight missiles each from the cruisers. You said you wanted to keep the battle line's missiles in reserve.”
“Which I do. I figure we need to use them or lose them with the tin cans since they are getting popped like zits anyway. Why four?”
“We're expecting some incoming trouble at any moment. Their fire control will be saturated soon, sir.”
“Ah. Well, get on it,” the admiral said as he took a cup of coffee from a steward and then took his seat.
(@)()(@)
The Alpha bull watched as another bomber strike on the Terran battle line's escort ships finished forming up and then left. When they were halfway to their objective, the enemy fired many eights of robotic craft at his warships. He ordered an immediate course change to throw their telemetry off. “Is that shot ready?” he asked as he turned to the weapons bull.
“We have half of the remaining cruisers ready to fire. They will fire half of their missiles. An eighth of those will be the new canister rounds and the untested jamming missiles,” the weapons bull reported.
“There is no time like the present,” the Alpha bull mused. “Fire when ready. I want those cruisers cleared for the incoming bomber strike,” the Alpha bull rumbled as he checked the timing. It was going to be close. The bombers would be hitting his herd a few minutes before the enemy missiles did. His bulls would be reeling from the damage and fighting.
Two eights of his cruisers fired in a wave, this time firing half of their total missiles. They handed off the fire control duties to the lesser great defenders and then reset to defend against the incoming enemy small craft.
The Alpha bull grunted when a tech reported that the carrier ship was launching the fighter reserve. That was to be expected; he'd ordered half of his fighters to remain behind to protect the fleet. The rest had gone in to engage the Terran fighters and break up their bomber strike. The battle there was complete and utter chaos however; it was difficult to nearly impossible to make sense of it all.
(@)()(@)
Admiral Rutledge saw the new missile swarm coming to him, or more likely, his screen. He grimaced; he didn't like the way things were going. “They are done pussy footing around it seems. Fine then, so are we.” He turned to the TO. “Guns, set up the next shot. I want us to tear a hole through their screen and let them know we mean business.”
“Aye aye, Admiral,” Commander Fowler replied.
(@)()(@)
Admiral Oh swore as he saw the missiles on CIC's tracks. Of course he could bank on them all coming for him and his ships. “Lord, for what we're about to receive … I suppose we should be grateful, but I'm not feeling the love,” he murmured. There was a dyspeptic chuckle from those around him who heard him.
(@)()(@)
Adrienne managed to get clear of the furball for a brief moment to assess the situation. Her people were holding their own, but the bombers were still in trouble. The slower craft were the obvious targets of the enemy fighters. The enemy seemed more interested in breaking them up with harassing swipes, than actually engaging and destroying them.
Her Artoo unit fed her the data on losses. She scanned it briefly but she was already issuing terse instructions to her squadron commanders and fellow CAGs.
Based on what she could see, the Terran craft were faster and more maneuverable. They had better ECM to keep them from easily being locked up by the enemy sensors but in a furball that barely mattered. It was rail guns and lasers at twenty paces; most of the pilots on both sides were lining up on shots or taking shots at targets of opportunity.
The Tauren ships had better shields. Some of the newer craft have force rings from a cruiser and could take a great deal of punishment she realized.
“Bombers, get clear individually if you have to and then form up in pairs. Bomber commanders, get your shit together. Come on, people! We outnumber them!” she said as she lined up on a wounded enemy fighter. “Kick their ass!” She snarled as she kicked in the afterburner to close the distance.
(@)()(@)
Two hundred missiles from the Terran escorts and battle line tore at the Tauren defenses. The Tauren bombers managed to pick off sixty-four of the missiles. Another ten were lured away by decoys or so hopelessly jammed and off course that they self-destructed. Since the bombers were in the line of fire, the Alpha bull couldn't order a rail gun broadside to clear the space. He had the same dilemma with the incoming enemy bombers.
Instead, his ships relied on their counter missiles and point defense to cut down another seventy-two missiles before the remaining fifty warheads and four penetration aides reached striking range. The fifty warheads were targeted on four cruisers this time; they detonated in one sudden silent bark of thunder and energy. All four of their targets were torn apart in the carnage.
“Now that's what I'm talking about!” Admiral Rutledge growled, pounding his armrests with his hands in appreciation as the tallies came in.
(@)()(@)
The Alpha bull grimaced as four cruisers, three without missiles and one with a precious three eights and one missiles died. But he couldn't spare any thoughts to the dead; he had to keep his mind focused to keep the rest of people living.
(@)()(@)
The 267 surviving Terran bombers tried to reform their ranks hastily as they got within striking range of the enemy cruisers. It wasn't meant to be however; too many had exited the battle space behind them high or low compared to the others in their squadron. They waded into the enemy jamming and fire with courage and conviction. Some paid a heavy price for their bravery.
Some of the bombers fired as their bomber got within range of the cruisers without orders, triggering a cascade of torpedo fire from others nearby. Their fire coordination was gone in the heat of the moment. Too many crews were too eager to fire and then get clear of the area before the incoming fighters tore them apart once more.
Seventeen cruisers took a brutal pounding; for four it was too much for them to endure. Each was torn apart in eye-searing fury. The remaining thirteen were damaged to various degrees from the strike. The reserve strike of Tauren fighters went after the bombers in vengeance as they turned tail. They tore them up as they retreated, cutting down swaths of the Terran craft. Eighty-one bombers were lost to enemy fire, nineteen damaged in the short brutal exchange.
(@)()(@)
The Alpha bull grimaced as he read the report from his cruiser screen. Most of the robotic craft on the damaged cruisers had been destroyed, the rest jettisoned. A third of his remaining missiles were gone, just like that.
Fighter casualties were more pronounced with an eight and two of their number destroyed and another eight damaged. If they couldn't make good on those repairs, they would be out of the next battle he noted as the enemy fighters chased off his reserves and linked up with the Terran bombers.
They would be back in time he knew, with less strength perhaps, but he now had less strength to meet them. He didn't like how the odds were shifting in the Terrans’ favor so readily. His eyes turned to the missiles he had ordered fired.
(@)()(@)
Adrienne snarled as she checked the numbers. If her Artoo was right they'd gone light on the damn Taurens and been brutally reamed in return. The damn warshot had taken its toll on her people. Nearly half of her bombers had been destroyed in the single engagement! The fighters had fared better, but only barely. And they hadn't managed to overwhelm the enemy fighters as planned. Instead, only ten of the damn fighters had been destroyed.
“Tough little ships,” she murmured as she continued to assess the damage. “Okay, people, listen up. I want you to learn from this. Figure out what the frack went wrong and figure a way to fix it because I damn well don't want a repeat!” she snarled over the link. “I want anyone who went toe-to-toe with the enemy fighters and made a kill to share it with the rest of the class.”
“They have strong shields in the front and rear, but they seem weaker on the flanks, dorsal, and ventral,” a pilot volunteered instantly.
“Good, damn good. Everyone hear that? Don't go for an up-the-kilt or down-the-throat shot. Hit them from the sides or top and bottom. Now, what else?” she demanded as her Artoo sent the reports to the flagship.
(@)()(@)
Jan flinched when she saw the casualty reports. “Damn,” she murmured as she saw half of her bombers coming back. Adrienne had stuck her hand into a meat grinder that was for sure. “Frack,” she muttered as Willard and the others looked at her worriedly.
She squared her shoulders. “Get the damage reports to engineering; I want those ships back in space ASAP,” she ordered. “We're getting the telemetry from all of the craft now. Someone work on those new fighters! We need an answer to those heavy fighter shields,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Yes, ma’am. At least we took out half of their escorts,” Alton said.
“Losing half of our bombers and I don't know how many of our fighters to kill what, four cruisers? And cripple another dozen or so more? I don't see that as a win,” Jan replied with a shake of her head.
(@)()(@)
Admiral Oh saw the report on the enemy casualties and their own casualties but couldn't react to it. His eyes and attention were focused like a laser on the incoming missiles. The targeted ships began to open up with their counter missiles in a desperate attempt to destroy them. Their consorts nearby added to the missile exchange, filling the plot with icons.
Something told him it wouldn't quite be good enough however.
(@)()(@)
“Here we go again,” Commander Daringer murmured. The captain shot him a look out of the corner of her eye but didn't turn her head as she watched her TO and ATO direct their defenses like a maestro. None of the missiles were targeted at Galahad, which was good, but it wasn't so good for her sister ships. Eight ships, six destroyers and two cruisers were the targets this time he noted with a corner of his mind. A real battle was nothing like a video game he thought darkly. He wasn't certain he'd ever be able to play another with the same carefree attitude to the units under his command.
Despite everything they could do, Mace, War-Hammer, Flail, Dagger, and the cruiser Faud Jern were torn apart. Toledo and the cruiser Gravedigger survived the onslaught but were crippled.
His wasn't the only wet eyes on the bridge as he looked out at the carnage. “Away the SAR gig,” the captain said gruffly. “We're closest to Toledo,” she said.
With a start Roger realized her eyes were on him. “Aye, ma’am,” he acknowledged the order, passing it on to the bosun to form an appropriate boarding party. “That will leave us a bit light in engineering,” he warned as DCC specialists reported to the boat bay.
“We can't help it. Toledo needs the extra warm bodies,” the skipper replied as she checked the status reports. “We fired a quarter of our counter missiles?” she demanded of the ATO.
“Aye, ma’am. We did our best ….” She hunched her shoulders under the glower of the skipper.
“Your best,” the captain echoed and then grimaced. “Cynthia, I appreciate the effort. Did all those counter missiles make a difference?” she asked gently.
The ATO grimaced. “I don't know,” she admitted.
“Check. We need to find a balance. Throwing everything we've got including the kitchen sink can saturate our sensors as well as everyone else's,” the captain said.
The other woman's eyes flared wide in surprise at the criticism, no matter how gently administered, and then fell abruptly. “I'm sorry, ma'am,” she said in a quiet whisper, clearly shaken.
“Just … do better,” the captain said, patting her on the shoulder as she realized she'd just rattled her ATO. Fortunately, the other woman had a few minutes to recover mentally, since no one was shooting at the moment. She glanced at her XO and then to the ATO. He nodded once but didn't do anything. For the moment Cynthia needed a moment to get control of herself, not have her pile on to him.
From the way she squared her shoulders and then began to tap at her station controls after a moment, he judged she'd gotten her wind back. He nodded once and then went back to his own job. He made a mental note to check in with her before the next engagement to be sure she was still ready to fight.
Chapter 44
Admiral Rutledge didn't like the casualty reports but pointed to them. “See? The carrier people are getting their asses reamed and for what?” he shook his head. “We're the real players here; they are just a distraction. It's time we stepped up and kicked ass,” he growled. “I want another missile strike. This time I want everything we can throw at them,” he growled. “Use the screen first obviously, since we're in a case of use 'em or lose 'em,” he said.
His chief of staff nodded in concert with his TO and then turned and individually began to issue orders.
“Someone check with Admiral Oh,” the admiral said over his shoulder as his eyes fell on the fifteen bombers coming to his command. “I want to know his plan to deal with those things. Hopefully, he's got a better plan than having his tin cans play missile sponges,” he growled.
He scowled as another thought occurred to him. “And someone get the antimatter warheads prepped,” he said. That sparked a sudden hush in the compartment. His lips thinned in a brief smile. “I think we're going to need them if we're going to break the bastard's back. First, we've got to get through their shells I believe.”
Commander Fowler nodded slowly, and then cupped a hand over his ear as he began issuing fresh orders through his implants.
(@)()(@)
The crews of the Tauren bomber herd did their best to ignore the battle behind them as they focused on their mission. They hit the escorts within minutes after the missiles struck. They fired from extreme range to keep themselves out of the enemy's engagement zone as much as possible. It reduced their effectiveness significantly. Only three of their intended targets was destroyed, a destroyer and two already-crippled cruisers. Three of the destroyers and one of the other cruisers took damage, but most of the hits were on the enemy's shields.
The bombers turned away and took long-range fire. One was winged by return fire from one of the destroyers. It limped away behind the herd.
(@)()(@)
Galahad took two hits by the Tauren bomber strike. The Tauren torpedoes had the same warheads as their missiles and were thus built to take on capital ships. Against a destroyer they were brutal at gutting a ship if they hit it at the right vulnerable spot.
Fortunately for the crew, the ship took the blows on her shields, with one passing through the shields and narrowly missing the hull. The second hit was a glancing blow that seared the starboard hull with damage. The ship shook like a rag doll from the impact. Her shields failed and the ship momentarily lost altitude control before the crew got her back on course.
Roger was busy getting damage reports and issuing orders to at first notice the beam over the skipper's head. She looked up at the groan just as he and others did.
“Maybe you should …”
“Yeah,” she said softly just as the beam let go and came down on her and her chair
crushing her.
“Damage control to the bridge! Medical to the bridge!” Roger barked as he leapt out of his chair and to his captain's aide. His expression was blank as someone accessed the captain's implants. The scream of her medical alarms flat-lining only spurred him to new efforts to dig her out of the rubble.
“Captain Gomez, can you hear me?” he demanded when he got sight of her. A piece of shrapnel had pierced her helmet. Blood was everywhere. He grimaced as a hand pulled him aside. He grimaced again as someone flashed a light into his eyes. “I'm fine! I'm all right, it's her ….” He turned his head to see the DCC crew slow up and then shake their heads.
“What?”
“Don't, sir,” a Neochimp warned, trying to obstruct the view. Roger looked over his shoulder anyway and saw the corpse of his captain and mentor. She had been almost decapitated by the debris. Shock rolled through him, but it was obliterated as it hit him that it wasn't a simulation. He coughed, gagged, then turned around and wretched, emptying his stomach in the process.
(@)()(@)
Admiral Oh snarled as he read the report. He'd lost ten of his sixteen destroyers. His remaining six were damaged, only Galahad was reporting at above 50 percent. Of his twenty-four cruisers, four had been destroyed, two were damaged, and one, Hague, was crippled and lagging behind the fleet.
“Pull the destroyers in. The cruisers will swap places with them,” he said.
(@)()(@)
Admiral Kelper saw the screen taking hits. Admiral Oh's command was being ground away in this one battle, just like her bombers. She didn't like that Admiral Rutledge hadn't moved his battle line up to support the screen. She opened her mouth to issue the order but then closed it. He was the man on the scene; she couldn't second-guess him without cause.