by Ryan Krauter
Those thoughts were put on hold as he got a warning from Lieutenant Caho. "Commander!" she said in a tone that Loren knew meant something was very wrong.
He jogged the few steps over to her station to see the young Lieutenant chewing on her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers that was another surefire sign of bad news.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" he asked quickly.
"That Priman cruiser that Captain Sosus's ships got off our tail," she began, tapping a recently-chewed fingernail on the screen, "it's still showing power. Actually, it's showing a recently stabilized power grid. They may be getting back in the fight."
Loren grumbled and ran to his chair with a worried look on his face. Two Priman cruisers that had been battling Majestic had already accelerated far enough out and jumped out of the system. He didn't want to assume this one would do the same, so it was time to go check it out.
"Helm," he said, trying to push the post-combat fatigue from his voice. He needed to stay on edge just a little longer, "lay in a course towards that Priman cruiser we just left behind." He tapped another control and was rewarded with Lieutenant Commander Mastruk's weary but attractive face. "Sarria," he began, formality of command withering like the energy that was rapidly leaving him, "target everything on that cruiser we're heaved towards. Caho thinks they might be powering back up. If they want to run, I'm inclined to let them leave at this point. If they want to fight, let's make it quick and ugly."
"Commander!" Loren heard from Lieutenant Caho, "torpedoes!"
He watched in horror as three torpedoes leapt from cobbled hardpoints on the hull and angled off towards the motionless Stalwart transports. "Oh no," he said in shock. "Mastruk; end them!" he yelled.
Avenger's last two torpedoes in the forward magazines shot out from tubes three and four, followed closely by a barrage of fire from her functioning laser batteries. Loren saw that Mastruk even tasked Avenger's many point defense turrets to attempt to shoot down the outgoing Priman torpedoes, but they were already too far away.
Captain Renner saw the torpedo launch and felt his stomach drop. This was supposed to be over; there was no need to keep jabbing at each other. The battle was decided, everyone should have walked away like honorable combatants. But the last functional Priman cruiser had fired three torpedoes towards the helpless transports seconds before a barrage from Avenger had obliterated the vessel.
"Helm," Renner commanded steadily despite the urgency at his core. "We need to intercept those torpedoes before they get to the transports. Do the best you can, and don't worry about burning out the drives."
He turned to the XO and continued. "Get the point defense batteries ready," he ordered as he wiped a combination of sweat and blood, the result of him being out of his chair and at a sensor station when the ship had taken a hit earlier, off his forehead with the palm of his hand.
Renner looked at his small command board and hit another control himself, bringing up an image of Loren Stone on the bridge of Avenger. "Commander Stone," Renner began, and Loren nodded grimly.
"We're trying to get underway towards the transports," Loren began, the painful truth evident in his voice as he spoke. "Those torpedoes of theirs are pretty damn good; they juke and dodge when they're fired upon. My plan is to try to get Avenger close to the transports and hit them with our point defense batteries. Hell, we'll park ourselves in the way and let them hit us if it comes to that."
Renner wasn't surprised to hear Loren make such a claim, and he knew the man was as good as his word. That's what made him a great leader, but that's also what burdened the man and tugged at his soul. For he knew now that Loren felt he had to do it all; only he could save his home planet, only he could stop the Primans, and only he could save those transports right now. It wasn't an ego or power issue; Loren just figured he needed to take the responsibility and do it himself, and that only he should have to shoulder the burden and blame for how things ended. Renner lamented the fact that he'd seen it before, and the people afflicted had almost universally burned out, unable to allow for the fact that others were just as willing to risk their lives for the same ideal.
"You'll never make it in time, friend," Renner said, a certain peace coming over him. It was said that fear accompanied the possibility of death, but calm was a sign one had seen and accepted it. Renner had hoped he'd never understand that saying, but now he knew what it meant. If he could stop those torpedoes, however it happened, his job would be complete. "I'm almost there and I have a few point defense turrets still working." Left unsaid was the same option Loren had mentioned: using the ship itself as a barrier.
"I think I know that look," Loren said softly. "I hope you aren't thinking of doing anything drastic."
"Only what's required," Renner countered in the same tone, then glanced off-screen for an instant. "I need to go; we're almost in range. Watch our six, alright Avenger?"
"Always," Loren said somberly as the screen went blank.
"What's he going to do?" asked Lieutenant Caho quietly from behind him.
"Whatever he has to," Loren answered.
Renner's eyes bored into the console in front of him, as if by burning the image of the transports into his mind's eye the ship would manage to get there faster. It was a race; both the destroyer and the incoming Priman torpedoes were coming at an angle, and the computers were guessing they'd arrive at almost the exact time as each other.
"How are the turrets?" Renner quickly asked the XO.
"Three working," was the curt answer.
Renner surveyed his remaining bridge crew; they all turned to look at him, as if they all knew what they were trying to do. To a one they all showed resolve in their gazes, most nodding in acceptance.
"Almost in range," he heard, and he looked back at the displays. A quick check of the damage control board showed that his three remaining point defense turrets were still up and running, and he saw them traverse and elevate to track the incoming torpedoes. As if on cue, as the enemy weapons detected the tracking scanners of the destroyer locking on, the torpedoes started a series of violent maneuvers. Without the need to protect a living occupant, the torpedoes were free to change course and speed in incredibly violent fashion; their fuel supply would last long enough for a few minutes of this routine.
Renner watched as his turrets opened up, sending a steady stream of rapid-fire bursts toward the weapons. The only thing he had going for him was that his ship was still headed straight for the transports at max speed; with the torpedoes dodging all over space, they were only adding to the time it would take them to get there.
Renner started sweating nervously, something he realized he hadn't really done the entire battle. Perhaps it was because before he had been simply fighting for his life; there was no time to worry about anything. Now, however, the responsibility for all those people sitting in the oblivious ships crushed him. The only thing he could think about was that they were all depending on his beaten ship for their lives.
Finally his eyes were drawn to the screen as one of the torpedoes exploded brilliantly where the blasts from two different point defense turrets converged with the weapon's flightpath. He breathed a sigh of relief that was quickly forgotten as he saw the motion of the two remaining weapons darting through the blackness.
"We're going to beat them there at this rate," the navigator announced solemnly. It was a blessing and a curse; they knew that winning this particular race wouldn't win them the sort of prize anyone wanted.
Avenger was finally underway towards the transports, the comms officer frantically trying to raise the motionless vessels to tell them to do something, anything, other than just sitting there.
It had taken too long to turn, Loren knew, but there was nothing that could be done. With the port side main forward maneuvering thruster destroyed, the helmsman had been forced to use the portside main engine thrust reverser to rapidly alter course. The smaller attitude thrusters just couldn't do the job alone, and while the helm officer had quickly gotten the hang
of cracking open the reverser, Avenger was simply too far behind to offer any real help.
"Got one," Caho called out, clenching her fist in triumph.
"Renner's ship has a confirmed kill on one of the torpedoes," Loren heard another crewmember agree after the ship's computer had relayed the sensor data into the main holo field which Loren was studying. He was at the railing between the helm stations how, leaning almost into the slightly-thrumming holographic field as he watched the tiny red torpedo icons juke and dodge as Renner's destroyer race to place itself in front of the transports. Bright red streamers of laser light reached out from the ship towards the weapons, but their computers were damn good at their jobs and they avoided the fire, usually by just a heartbeat. It was enough, though.
Only Caho thought to look at Loren's knuckles, white with tension as he grabbed the metal bar that prevented people from walking into the holo field. She knew his friend was on that ship; it must be impossible to watch someone in a situation like that and know that one could do nothing to help.
Finally, Loren noticed a pattern to the destroyer's defensive fire; it seemed like they were trying to drive the torpedoes towards each other, to keep them close together instead of letting them run wherever they wanted. The point defense fire just wasn't working well enough, so instead of fruitlessly trying to destroy the weapons, the Lemurian ship was trying to shepherd them towards...
No, you wouldn't, Loren thought. But they were. With their defensive turrets unable to shoot down the torpedoes, Renner was trying to steer the torpedoes down a specific path- right towards his ship. It was probably the only way they'd be able to set off the weapons before they got to the transports, but knowing that was no comfort to Loren. Whether the Priman torpesoes changed targets or just ran into the place where Renner’s destroyer was, the effect was the same. The first one struck amidships, the second was a second behind. Loren couldn't see if the second one hit the destroyer or was set off by the debris from the initial explosion, but it didn’t matter. Two torpedoes detonating against the thin hull of the destroyer was no contest; there was a blinding flash as the warheads detonated, setting off the oxygen, drive fuel, and what munitions remained aboard the doomed ship. When the blast faded, the Lemurian ship was for the most part gone; the majority had simply been vaporized by the titanic forces involved in the explosion.
Loren's eyes darted around the main holographic field to take in the situation. There was small comfort in the fact that the transports were safe from enemy fire and all the remaining Priman ships were drifting powerless. That didn't do anything to lessen the grief that threatened to crash down on him with the loss of Captain Renner and essentially the entire Lemurian Navy. He'd lost friends before, of course, and would do so again before this war was over. It didn't make it any easier, though, especially since Renner had made the sacrifice on purpose, knowing what was about to happen to him.
"All Priman forces secured, Commander," Lieutenant Caho reported softly from her station behind Loren.
"Understood." Loren hadn't moved, still stood hunched over the railing staring at the holo field as the action slowed down. He wanted to just turn command over to somebody and busy himself with something that would keep his mind distracted, but he couldn't, not now. In fact, it was probably going to be up to him to try and pull things back together. Majestic was holding station with Cobalt, both ships looking like they'd run through an especially evil meat grinder. Their datalink signals were erratic, but what they showed was not good.
Taking a breath to gather himself, he straightened up and turned to face his bridge crew. They were no doubt expecting him to have the answers, to be in charge and ready to deal with the situation. Captain Elco set a high standard, and Loren would have expected Elco to get right back to business, so he was going to have to do the same and hope he measured up. Speaking of the captain...
"Lieutenant Caho," Loren said, authority in his voice again. "As soon as you can, I want you to hit the capitol with every sensor you have. Also the military base on the edge of the city where the captain was when this all started. I'd like to think they had some sort of shelter for their people, so find out everything you can about that base and the heart of the city."
He turned to the helmsman who'd become so adept at steering the big ship with her thrust reversers. "I need you to put us in orbit above the capital city so Caho can do her thing. Just do the best you can; I know maneuvering's going to be a bitch."
"Comms," Loren continued as he walked over to the station. "Start scanning Lemuria. See if you can find anyone down there who claims to be in charge. Also keep an ear on the military frequencies, especially the base where the captain was trapped." He started to move, then spun around. "Oh, and see if you can get through to those transports and tell them to do something, anything, other than sitting there acting like targets. Tell them the system is clear and they should take their refugees out and get back on schedule; this system needs to be evacuated right now." Almost as an afterthought, he quickly added, "and see if you can contact Majestic or Cobalt. Majestic has operational command, so if they're in the game we'll hand off control to them. Until then, we'll assume we're taking the lead."
Loren trudged back to the captain's chair where he'd sat for most of the battle. Not wanting to let his mind wander lest he not get it back on track, he keyed the button for C3. Lieutenant Commander Mastruk's face appeared, looking tired but otherwise alright. "Sarria," Loren began, "you have the unenviable task of presenting a damage report and mission readiness brief. Let me know when you're making progress; it looks like Avenger is going to be coordinating things above the planet for a while, so we're going to be busy up here, but once we get the Confed forces gathered together we're all going to have to take stock of the situation."
"Yes sir," she replied quickly, then waited for Loren to sign off.
Then Loren did sit back, allowing himself just a minute to try and prepare himself for what would come next; damage reports on Avenger as well as Majestic and Cobalt, trying to determine if anyone was still in control on Lemuria, and finding Avenger's captain.
Sirian Elco had never been trapped like he'd been in the bowels of the Lemurian military base, but if he'd been looking to pick up a phobia it sure as hell could have been one of confined spaces after the time he'd had. There had been another partial collapse in the room adjacent to the command center which had led to a fire and necessitated the evacuation of the space. He'd helped General Horle stumble out of the command center amid the confusion and now waited with him just below ground level beneath one of the main hangars of the base above. Well, it was where one of the hangars had been. There was no telling what was there now, and that was only part of the problem.
The few personnel who'd made it this far were all weary and wounded. There was no way to communicate with the rest of the underground facility, much less on the base above. For all they knew, there were Priman troops on the ground ransacking the planet right now. Horle had ordered that getting out of their bunker was the most important item, before the underground space became their permanent home.
To that end, Elco watched as a group of three soldiers put the last touches on the hole they'd been cutting through the armored exit vestibule with a pair of torches. There were tiny sections of material on opposite corners holding the plug in place, just waiting the General's command to be cut free so the section of armored wall could fall outwards and give them a way out.
Horle gestured to Elco to help him stand up, and Avenger's captain obliged.
"It's days like this that can make a man feel old," Horle muttered at he reached up with his hand and pulled down on Elco's shoulder in order to straighten his posture.
"On your command, General," said on of the soldiers who'd assembled by the plug in the wall. Elco held his SSK at his side, though he doubted he'd be of much use while helping the general. Still, he looked at the gathered troops, beaten but not defeated, and realized all was not necessarily lost. If they could find a shi
p and make it away from the city, they might be able to even break orbit and make for deep space to tell everyone what had happened here today. But first they had to clear the base topside.
"Alright," Horle growled, "just like we briefed earlier. Everyone gets out topside. First goal is to secure the hangar above, then we start looking for transportation. If there are Primans out there, this will be a short mission, but we'll make them pay as best we can."
The general nodded at the soldiers with the cutting torches, who quickly burned through what was holding the plug in place. Another soldier put his shoulder into the center of the plug and started it toppling outwards, where it landed on the metal decking with a nerve-wrackingly loud crash and a cloud of dust. Through dim emergency lighting and a room that had already been choked with floating dirt and debris, Elco could barely make out the skeletal staircase that ascended to the surface.
"Move!" one of the troops commanded, and everyone stormed up the stairs and on to whatever awaited them above.
By the time Elco and Horle stumbled out the remains of the room that had hidden the staircase, everyone else had fanned out and secured the skeletal carcass of the building. The roof was punctured by three massive holes from orbital laser blasts, and what was left was warped and buckled. Elco was surprised it was still up there, and realized that this building wouldn't provide safe shelter- they've have to keep moving, and quickly.
There had been some sort of offices at the rear of the hangar which had been destroyed by fire, as well as two large atmospheric troop transports which had also burned to the ground, leaving behind not much more than wing ribs, spars, and scorch marks.
The general's soldiers were moving through the wreckage quickly, looking for any survivors or equipment they could use. One or two stopped for a moment to gawk at the destruction, the pall of the overcast sky created by all the atmospheric contaminants the Priman bombardment had kicked up into the air, but were quickly straightened out by a few stern looks.