In Her Name: The Last War

by Michael R. Hicks

  “The ship is at zero mark zero, system relative,” Bogdanova reported. She had stopped the ship’s tumbling, and now had her level relative to Keran’s orbital plane, pointing toward the system’s star.

  “Very good, helm,” Sato said, nodding. “Let’s see if we can’t get back into the game. All ahead one quarter, course zero four six mark zero zero seven.” He was hoping that by not using any active sensors and keeping his acceleration low, the enemy ships might not notice him for a while, allowing them to get closer. He had not tried to raise the fleet for fear of being discovered prematurely by their signal emissions.

  “All ahead one quarter, aye.” Bogdanova smoothly advanced the analog control handle, which looked much like a throttle might have in fighter aircraft centuries before, to the appropriate stop. The actual propulsion control system and the underlying calculations behind “one quarter” power and the other standard settings were far more complex than simply moving a handle, but the simpler interface was more efficient for the human part of the control loop. After a moment, Bogdanova reported, “Sir, engineering answers all ahead one quarter, and the ship is now on course zero four six mark zero zero seven.”

  Sato’s tension began to quickly fade as the deep and steady thrum of the ship’s drives continued without the slightest indication of trouble. He watched her icon on the tactical display as the Owen D. McClaren once again sailed into harm’s way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “We’ve got to withdraw whatever ground troops are left, admiral,” Tiernan told Admiral Lefevre over the vidcom. “The Kreelans are sending what looks like another strike force down to the surface. After the mauling our troops took from the first Kreelan attack, there won’t be much left of them after a second.”

  While the ships of the combined human fleet had suffered only minor damage from the Kreelan force that had assaulted the planet, both the Terran and Alliance ground troops had suffered heavy casualties. Citing the inhumanly accurate fire from the Kreelan ships and the fearless warriors, General Ray’s last report over his tactical laser uplink had painted a grim picture of the situation before the fleet had lost communications with both him and the general commanding the Alliance ground forces. None of the ground forces had been heard from since, although direct observations from the telescopes and other sensors aboard the human ships left little doubt that their troops on the ground were fighting for their lives. And losing.

  “I agree, mon amiral,” Lefevre said. “Recovering your troops must be the priority, as we do not have enough combat-capable lift capacity to retrieve our own.” Those words were a heavy burden on Lefevre’s soul, for he had just condemned tens of thousands of men and women to death if the combined human fleet failed to win the battle in space.

  Tiernan gently contradicted him. “I believe you may be mistaken, sir, based on the projected losses we’re coming up with. Unless we’re badly mistaken, and I wouldn’t mind being wrong on this one, the corps we sent in has maybe a brigade left, if that. And if your units have suffered similar losses, the available carriers may be enough to lift out the survivors.”

  “Mon Dieu,” Lefevre whispered. His own operations staff had come to similar conclusions, but he hadn’t wanted to believe them. He still didn’t. There had been ten Alliance divisions on the surface. To think that the survivors of both forces would now fit into six assault carriers was simply unthinkable. And this after only the first Kreelan assault wave.

  “I’ve already dispatched our courier ship to the rendezvous point to bring back our carriers,” Tiernan told him. The four Terran carriers had jumped out to a holding position that was far enough away that they were safe from attack, but close enough in case they needed to be recalled quickly. He just hoped they would be able to return quickly enough.

  “I will do the same,” Lefevre said. “But I am not willing to concede defeat.”

  “Nor am I, sir,” Tiernan reassured him. “I believe that the enemy is giving us an opportunity in disguise,” he went on, eyeing the second assault force, which was roughly a third of the enemy’s ship strength, as they began to head toward Keran. The first wave, the one that the human fleet had met head-on in the upper reaches of Keran’s atmosphere, had almost rejoined the main group in high orbit. “The timing will be tricky, but if we can engage the second wave as they come up from Keran, we should have at least a two to one advantage in firepower. Of course, that assumes that the remaining enemy ships are content to stay in high orbit.”

  Lefevre offered a Gallic shrug. “Something we can never count on, the enemy doing what we would like. Still, it is an opportunity we cannot reasonably pass up. My operations officer will coordinate for maneuvering orders, since we still have no data-link connectivity. Then we will see if we cannot teach our blue-skinned friends a thing or two about naval combat.”

  * * *

  Aboard the Alita, Amelia Cartwright waited tensely as the ship’s navigation computer counted down the remaining seconds to their emergence into normal space. While she certainly didn’t mind helping the fleet by acting as their courier, she also was itching to do more than just ferry messages back and forth. But Alita wasn’t built for combat. In any engagement, the best she could be was a target, albeit a fast one.

  “Transpace sequence in three...two...one,” the computer announced. “Transpace sequence complete.” Suddenly the swirling nothingness of hyperspace displayed on the screen before her dissolved into pinpoints of light and the glowing orb of Keran.

  “Shit,” Sid, her copilot, whispered as the sensor display stabilized and began to paint the situation in the space around the planet, with the large cloud of blue icons facing off against the red. “The admiral’s going to kick some ass.”

  Cartwright nodded, taking a look at the tactical display as she made sure that the ship had come through the jump in one piece. A Kreelan force had headed down to the planet, and it was clear that Tiernan was maneuvering to try and catch the Kreelans on the flip side as they climbed out of the gravity well after their attack. So far the Kreelans remaining in high orbit were staying put, but she knew that wouldn’t last if they had any sense at all.

  “Five seconds for the carriers,” Sid reminded her as she maneuvered the ship, taking her well forward of the carriers’ inbound jump point. She had taken Alita in first to scout the situation and have a warning prepared for the carriers in case they were jumping into a hot zone. At this point, they were safe.

  “There they are,” Cartwright told him, seeing the four blue icons representing the Terran carriers materialize right behind Alita on the tactical display. “Guadalcanal,” she called over the vidcom, “it looks like you’re clear for now. We’ll proceed ahead of you to make sure there aren’t any surprises waiting for you.”

  “Roger that, Alita,” the lead carrier’s captain said. “We appreciate the assist. I’ve got to contact Admiral Tiernan. Guadalcanal, out.”

  “You sure you want to do this?” Sid asked her quietly, looking at the swarm of ships ahead of them moving toward a massive clash.

  She gave him a determined look. “We can’t just run, Sid,” she told him. “I know we’re not in the Navy, but we’ve got the fastest ship in the system, and we’ve got to help if we can.”

  Sid only nodded and readjusted his cowboy hat as he squirmed a bit deeper in his seat.

  With a tingle of fear running down her spine, Cartwright throttled up the engines and led the four assault carriers toward Keran.

  * * *

  “Dammit!” Tiernan cursed under his breath. “So,” he growled at his flag communications officer, “you’re telling me that we still have no communication with anyone on the ground?”

  “Correct, sir,” the commander replied, trying not to flinch. “We haven’t been able to get any voice or vidcom signals from the surface. The only way we might be able to get through is a direct laser link, but it’s going to have to be a very low orbit pass, and the ship will only have a few minutes over any given location before it passes
over the horizon and out of range.”

  Tiernan wasn’t angry at his officer, just at the damnable situation. Whatever weapon the Kreelans had used earlier that had knocked out much of the human fleet’s communications capability had completely befuddled the communications experts on both the Alliance and the Terran ships. Absolutely nothing that used the radio frequency spectrum would work. Direct laser communications still worked for basic voice and vidcom, but not for the data-link systems, even though there seemed to be nothing wrong with any of the equipment and software.

  Regaining communications with the ground forces was vital in order to get them to assembly areas where the assault boats from the carriers could retrieve them: Tiernan couldn’t have the boats wandering across the planet looking for his people. The carriers had to be able to get in and out quickly, as Tiernan couldn’t afford to detach even a single destroyer to protect them. Without radio communications, which could be broadcast to a wide area, the only way to talk to the troops on the ground would be by sending a ship in low and praying they could make contact over a laser link, which had an extremely narrow broadcast area.

  “What about that courier ship?” his flag captain suggested. “The Alita, isn’t she? She could haul ahead of the carriers, get in low, and try to regain contact with General Ray.”

  “It’s a civilian ship,” the flag operations officer protested. “They’re not going to do that, and they shouldn’t. They’re not trained or equipped for it.”

  Tiernan looked at the tiny icon on the main display that represented a small ship and its two-person crew. “Do they have laser link capability?”

  “All diplomatic courier ships have a basic laser link capability, sir,” the communications officer said. “It’s not military grade, but it’s powerful enough. Some of the diplomatic missions they have to serve are in places with pretty rough environmental conditions, and they need communications that can get through, no matter what. And the tactical sensor package that was retrofitted on all the Keran couriers has an improved laser link detection capability, so if anyone on the ground is calling, they have a better chance of picking it up. Assuming they’re in the path of the laser.”

  That decided it. “Get me Alita’s captain,” Tiernan said.

  * * *

  “Do you know who that was?” Sid asked, incredulous.

  Cartwright threw him a sidelong glance. “Of course I do, Sid,” she said, exasperated. He’d said the same thing five times in as many minutes after Admiral Tiernan had given her his “request.” As if she would even think of saying no.

  Alita was now streaking toward Keran under full acceleration, leaving the fat carriers far behind. Orbital insertion was going to be tricky, not just because of the courier ship’s speed, but also because the second wave of Kreelan ships, the ones that Admiral Tiernan was going to pound on, were going to be a lot closer than she would like. Low orbit space was going to be awfully crowded for a while.

  The admiral’s communications officer had given them coordinates for where the Terran and Alliance troops had been landed, and Sid had programmed the ship’s laser link system to broadcast over as wide an area as possible. They had already started an automated broadcast, just on the off chance that someone might pick it up before they entered low orbit: they had nothing to lose but a bit of power. Some might have thought their chances were about as good as finding a needle in a haystack, with the qualification that they were looking for the needle through a straw about as big around as a strand of spaghetti.

  * * *

  Amar-Marakh, the senior shipmistress of the Imperial ships around the human planet, nodded in approval as the human ships began to deploy against her second attack wave, even as the surviving ships of the first wave rejoined her. Her blood burned that she herself was not in the force heading toward the planet, for the engagement the humans were planning would be fierce and her heart cried out for battle. But that would yet come. For now, it was up to the shipmistresses and warriors of the second wave to bring glory to the Empress.

  She knew the humans could not pass up an attack against the second wave, and that Her warships would be greatly outnumbered. She also knew that the animals would not have things all their own way. While the ships of the second wave would be dropping many more warriors to engage the surviving humans warriors on the surface, they would be keeping nearly a third in reserve to send against the human fleet as they closed to engage. The human ships had proven very vulnerable to boarding attacks, which perfectly suited the desires of Her Children.

  Her heart beat rapidly as she watched the unfolding battle on her display, the Bloodsong of her sisters a thundering chorus in her veins.

  * * *

  Tiernan was proud of his crews as the Terran ships slid into position in the new formation he had worked out with Amiral Lefevre. Normally, the data-link systems also provided navigational orders, allowing the ships to closely coordinate their movements. With that information gone, each ship had to maneuver independently, and it would have been a challenge under the best of circumstances to form up over one hundred warships from two different navies, all under manual control. But his crews and those of the Alliance made it look like such feats were easy.

  After more discussion with Admiral Lefevre, they had decided to put the Terran ships at the head of the formation as they engaged the Kreelans. The Alliance ships had already seen an exhausting fight, and some of them were running dangerously low on munitions. Ticonderoga herself was the point ship of the third echelon wedge, with a wedge of cruisers ahead, and a flotilla of destroyers leading the attack. The plan was for the destroyers to fire their torpedoes to help distract and, if they were lucky, break up the Kreelan formation, and then have the destroyers peel away to the flanks so that the heavier guns of the cruisers could hammer the enemy ships into scrap.

  As Tiernan watched the red icons of the Kreelan second wave near Keran, he saw the solitary blue icon of the Alita, which was now sailing ahead of the Kreelan ships. He nodded in approval: the commander of the tiny ship had both brains and guts. Had she tried an orbit that brought her head to head or even flank-on to the Kreelans, they would no doubt destroy her. But sailing ahead of them, as crazy as it seemed, was also safest: unless the Kreelans showed some of the hideously advanced technology that Sato had reported, there was no way they would be able to catch her.

  “Come on, Cartwright,” Tiernan breathed. The only chance the ground forces might have of survival rested with Cartwright and her tiny ship. Otherwise, the troops on Keran wouldn’t even realize a second attack was on its way, and the carriers would have come back for nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Coyle was exhausted, but there was no stopping. The 7th Cavalry Regiment, which had started with just over three thousand men and women, had been reduced to a short battalion of a few hundred, including the survivors she had picked up from a few other units. The officers, all of whom had been in or near vehicles that were using the data-links targeted by the Kreelan ships, had been decimated: the senior officer, the only combat effective officer, was Lieutenant Krumholtz, the infantry lieutenant she had picked up early on. That would have made him the acting commander, but Sparks had made Coyle a brevet captain once the extent of the disaster for the ground forces had become clear, and she’d found herself in charge of the clusterfuck they were in. After that, Sparks had passed out and had remained unconscious. He was holding on, but only through sheer stubbornness: riding in the back of a civilian vehicle that had been abandoned and put into service as an ambulance, he was being tossed around in what had become an increasingly desperate effort to escape the killing ground of Foshan.

  Chiquita, Coyle’s tank, was one of only four in the entire regiment to have survived the battle to this point. Since the fight to save the colonel, she had found seven other tanks, but three of them had been destroyed by a small but determined pack of Kreelan warriors. Her unit’s progress was slow, both because most of her troops had to move on foot, and because of t
he successive waves of civilian refugees that were boiling out of the wreckage of the city, usually driven along by more Kreelan warriors. Coyle felt compelled to try and give the civilians as much protection as she could, which further slowed her down and made her tanks easier targets for the Kreelans and their devilish grenades.

  She would have headed out of the city where her tanks would have a much easier time keeping the enemy at bay, but she knew they had to link up with any other survivors of the division, if they could find them.

  After a nightmarish drive farther into Foshan, where she found the smoking wreckage that had been the division command post, she realized that the division, and the corps as a whole, had effectively been wiped out.

  She had picked up a few more troops from some of the division’s other brigades, but only a handful. She had no doubt that there were other pockets of survivors. She could hear sporadic bursts of gunfire in other parts of the city, but she wasn’t going to expend any more effort or lives trying to find them.

  She was going to try and get her people out of the city.

  “The corps is well and truly fucked,” she told Lieutenant Krumholtz and the senior NCOs who had gathered in front of Chiquita. Coyle hated to risk stopping even for a few minutes, which would let the Kreelans who were hunting her tanks catch up, but she didn’t have any choice. They needed to get a new game plan together. “We’ve got to turn around and head out of the city.”

  “We can’t do that,” Krumholtz argued. If anything, he was more tired than Coyle was, having had to slog along with his troops through the rubble and past shell-shocked civilians as the Terran column had slowly made its way deeper into the city. “If we can find General Ray, he’ll be able to-”