"It’s the slowing down to re-enter that’s concerning me. Chief, the last few days I’ve appreciated the faith you have in this ship, but right now I need you to be objective. We’re soon going to be slamming from all ahead to all astern. Can she take it?"
"She’ll hold skipper. Trust me she’ll hold."
Guinness clicked off the intercom. The skipper had sounded shaken and Guinness was glad none of his people had heard her. Captains were supposed to be god-like beings, beyond petty concerns such as the ship coming apart around them. But the skipper hadn’t got the ‘feel’ for Hood, didn’t know her, didn’t trust her, didn’t like her. Still she had been quick enough to take offence at the CinC’s flat dismissal of their combat value - that was a positive sign. But then she was a pretty prickly individual, if he was any judge, so that didn’t prove much. He shrugged inwardly, nothing he could do about it for now. The engineer room ratings had managed to put out the junction box fire, but the stink of burnt plastic still filled the engineering space.
"Check the other boxes," he instructed his deputy, "if they’re starting to overheat, cut them out of the load until they cool down again."
Guinness looked back down the bay. The petty officers and ratings were all at their stations watching the computer readouts ready to head off the next crisis. A deep groan shuddered through the ship and several ratings looked up as if expecting to see the ship disintegrate around them. The nearest looked at Guinness; he looked very young and very frightened. Guinness gave him an encouraging smile.
"Don’t worry lads, she can take it."
___________________________
There was a sullen silence in the briefing room, most of them were too shell shocked by what they had just heard to talk. Rumours had gone round the pilots mess about what was being planned, but the reality that lay revealed before was far worse than anything any of them had imagined. At the front of the room Wing Commander Devane started rocking back and forth in his chair, muttering quietly to himself. After a few minutes the four members of the other two trainee crews, gathered together in a corner and started to talked quietly but intensely among themselves. .
Alanna didn’t join them, instead she remained slumped in her chair. She felt drained of all energy; it was all she could do not to burst into tears. It was so unfair. They’d done their bit, and lost all those people for nothing. She’d thought she survived, she thought she’d earned the right to go home and see her family again, but no. They were going to be sent in again, and this time right into the middle of the firestorm.
"So… now we know." Muttered Dhoni as he sat himself down next to her.
Alanna wanted to snap at him but couldn’t find the energy. They sat in silence.
"Serves me right really." He commented eventually, without looking round at her.
She looked round at him.
"What do you mean?"
"My last assignment, before I transferred to fighters, was in the missile magazine of Titan; I would have gone into action behind nearly half a metre layer of composite armour."
"Why did you transfer anyway, you’ve never said."
"You’ve never asked skipper." Dhoni replied. "Reason I transferred to fighters, I was tired of being cooped up inside armoured hulls. I wanted to be able to see what was happening, to see a bit of excitement. "
She gave him a wan smile.
"One of those ‘be careful what you wish for’ situations."
Alanna looked round at her navigator, they’d been flying together over a year, yet she now realised there was so little she actually knew about him.
"Yes, I believe you’re right skipper. I don’t think the old lady is any happier about this than us, but that’s the nature of the job. No point in moping."
There was another long silence.
"Is that your idea of cheering someone up?" Alanna asked. "Because if it is, you really suck at pep talks."
"It doesn’t mean I’m wrong though." Dhoni replied unperturbed. "Besides, in your fighter, I think I’m in a good place to survive this."
"Thanks." She said.
Someone stopped in front of them. Alanna looked up and snapped to her feet.
"Flying Officer Shermer," Moscoe said, "You will be flying as "Wing Commander Devane’s wingman."
Alanna glanced briefly towards the Wing Commander. He stopped rocking, but was still muttering to himself.
Oh hell no. Alanna thought to herself, before her eyes snapped back to Devane. For a split second she saw a look of distaste in the Squadron Commanders eyes, directed towards Devane.
"Understood?"
Bugger that for a game of soldiers! She might have to go into action again, but she certainly wasn’t going to lumber herself with someone who’d clearly gone off his head. As soon as the shooting started Devane was going to be on his own.
But what she said was:
"Yes, sir, understood."
"Good."
Moscoe slapped his hand on the briefing pedestal to get everyone’s attention.
"Alright enough chitter-chatter, everyone to your fighters, good luck and give them hell."
04.27 hours Fleet Time
"The shadowing courier reports that the enemy is still on the anticipated vector and holding speed. All ship sections report as ready ma’am. The other courier has confirmed receipt of the message, to be forwarded to the Warspite." O’Malley said in very formal voice.
Brian nodded as she checked her restraint harness and settled her survival suits helmet into position.
"Thank you Captain O’Malley," She replied with equal formality, "you may start countdown for jump out. Coms, give me a laser link up to all ships, open intercom." Brian waited until the communications officer gave her the thumbs up.
"All hands this is Vice Admiral Brian. In a few moments we will be jumping directly into the lions den. However, be assured, that this is not a display of futile defiance. The enemy thinks that we have shot our bolt, they think that their plan has all but succeeded. They think we will stand impotent to prevent them from attacking our homes and our families. They are about to find out that they are very much mistaken. I will not lie to you; it is probable that many of us, possibly all of us, will die today. But, God willing we will take hundreds of those bastards with us and stop them cold. Good luck, Brian out."
"Very stirring, ma’am." O’Malley said with a straight face. "Brought a tear to my eye."
"Mocking your commanding officer on the eve of battle?" Brian replied equally gravely. "Remind me to have you court-marshalled when we get home."
"Jump out in ten seconds, nine, eight…"
"Yes ma’am. Of course ma’am, I’m sure when Hollywood turns your life into a film, they’ll come up with something better."
Emily gave him a quick grin.
"On second thoughts let’s not bother with a court-marshal; I’ll just shove you out the airlock." She replied before turning to the ship's tactical officer "Make sure we are on target before we drop the mines. We only have one shot." The officer nodded his gloved finger in position above the button.
From the bows of the ship a whining noise started to gain volume, as Dauntless’s long unused jump drive started to slowly spin up. Not for this jump but for the jump that would hopefully get them out of the middle of an enemy fleet. Ahead there was a crackle of energy as the destroyer Hammerhead opened the jump conduit, astern Piranha braced it open.
"…three, two one. Jumping!" The navigator called out.
With a rippling flash the three ships disappeared from the face of the universe.
___________________________
04.34 hours Fleet Time
Warspite trembled as her engines, now running full astern, attempted to force the ship below the safe jump-in speed. Every ship was doing the same and the arrowhead formation of the Home Fleet, was now decidedly ragged. Predictable in a fleet where barely two ships had the same performance and there had been several heart stopping near misses. The Hood had damn near ploughed into the
back of the heavy cruiser Cerberus, when one of her engines suddenly blew out. On the flag bridge of Warspite, Lewis had only been able to watch with horror when the Hood’s engine failed and suddenly the rate at which the old cruiser was decelerating was a lot lower than the Cerberus directly ahead. Hood had plunged forwards like a lance. Blinded by her own engine emissions, Cerberus hadn’t seen the disaster looming from astern. Fortunately Hood’s skipper had his or her wits about them, and managed to avoid collision by the thinnest of margins.
"Thirty seconds to jump-in, Admiral." Someone called out.
Lewis nodded without taking his eyes off the screen with his sub commanders.
"I believe, gentlemen, that the briefing is about to come to an end. Remember, hold your squadrons together. I don’t want to see ships isolated and picked off piecemeal… and good luck."
Lewis closed the com link, folded away the screen and tightened the straps on his harness. He would have liked have been able to offer some suitably Nelsonic words to his crews, but that wasn’t the kind of person he was. Sometimes it was better to simply accept ones personal limitations.
"Re-entry in five, four, three, two, one. BraceBraceBrace!"
___________________________
On the bridge of Hood, Willis’s heart was still hammering madly. She wasn’t sure exactly how close they had got to Cerberus, the collision detection system was only sensitive to about thirty meters, but it had sure as hell been too close. The remaining three engines, were now making some distinctly expensive noises and the entire engineering display was lit up like a Christmas tree. She’d stopped getting engineering reports shortly after the engine failed; Guinness was clearly running from one crisis to another… and only just keeping up. Plus, the heatsink was only a few minutes from saturation.
"Skipper! Signal from flag. Thirty seconds to jump-in."
Willis had to work hard to keep the relief from showing on her face.
"Okay everyone, we’ve done the really dangerous bit, actually getting here." That weak pun actually got a few relieved laughs, both on the bridge and across the intercom from the senior officers spread across the ship. "Fire Control, be ready to start shooting but keep the guns shut down until we need them; we have to shed some heat, but you’re going to have to make choices fast, so don’t wait for my orders. But for the love of god though, watch for friendly fire. Last thing, save our missiles for their big cap ship missiles. Point defence is little bloody use against those things, the Long Lance missiles are our best hope."
"Jumping in five."
"All hands brace for jump-in, this is where it gets fun!"
___________________________
Warspite lurched violently into realspace. Immediately the battleship’s radar and passive sensors started to sweep the surrounding space. Seconds crawled by as they waited for the light speed returns to reach them. Had they made contact or had they left Earth exposed to destruction?
"Contact! We have multiple contacts! Bearing three, five, three dash zero, two, one. Range one hundred thousand kilometres, checking profiles… Bridge, confirmed enemy in sight!" Shouted out a sensor rating. "Sir we have them!"
Admiral Lewis gave no outward show of emotion, but inside he felt relief rise off him like steam. The mad charge through jump space with the prospect of finding nothing but an empty solar system had been a waking nightmare. But now they were in contact and even more important, in range. The greatest gamble of his life had paid off. Now they just had to hurt the Nameless, before they made a dive for jump space. On the Warspite’s Flag Bridge reports continued to flow in.
"Enemy is bringing radio and targeting jammers online. They’re also blanketing the FTL bands, they must have a transmitter on every damn ship." Sheehan reported. "Oh…" Sheehan paused and looked up from his console towards Lewis. "Admiral, one of squadron eighteen didn’t survive jump-in."
"Do we still have laser hook up?" Lewis replied ignoring that fact that they’d suffered their first loss, it certainly wouldn’t be the last and he couldn’t afford to think about it.
"Yes, sir, all ships are on grid."
"There is something else, a courier ship, one of ours; it’s on the far side of the alien fleet. We got its friend or foe code, it tried to send us a transmission, but the jamming blotted it out."
"Probably doesn’t matter." Lewis grunted.
"All ships now report ready for action, sir." Sheehan said
"Coms, make signal to all ships, ‘you may engage at your discretion’. Captain Holfe, work your ship."
"Yes, sir." The captain replied.
Even as he spoke the great battleship rolled and turned slightly, the four forward turrets and the secondary mounts smoothly swung to bear, then Warspite vented her fury in a single rippling salvo.
The target was an escort ship, part of their outer screen. When the Battlefleet ships arrived, it desperately tried to retire back towards their main fleet. But the Home Fleets arrival had been too sudden, too close. She was only starting to make her turn as the leading elements of Warspite’s broadside arrived. The Nameless jamming had been partly effective. Warspite’s fire control couldn’t know exactly where the alien was, but it could know roughly and spread the salvo to cover all the places the target could be by the time the plasma bolts arrived. Of the eight bolts fired, two struck home. Designed to defeat heavy armour, they carved effortlessly through the small vessel, severing power lines, cutting control runs and wrecking equipment. The ship staggered sideways as fuel and atmosphere gushed from its wounds. But the carnage had barely started. The jammers that had offered some measure of protection, died as the plasma bolts tore through. Following hard on the heels of the plasma cannon salvo, a pair of Slammer anti-ship missiles locked on. The wounded ship tried frantically to defend itself, succeeding in blasting one aside, the second smashed home, reducing its target to little more than a hulk. Finally, nearly seventy three seconds after the missiles, a single twenty eight centimetre railgun round arrived, and reduced the hulk to very small pieces.
No other Home Fleet ship could match Warspite’s firepower, but they claimed several more escorts before the rest of the Nameless perimeter force fled before the thundering juggernaut.
"Admiral. The enemy is transmitting in FTL on band D."
"Understood coms, sensors, any sign of them charging their jump drives?" Lewis responded.
"Negative, sir, we’re not seeing anything resembling a power build up." Replied the lieutenant at the sensor repeater display.
"Good."
On the tactical holo all the individual signals for every ship in their fleet shifted, as one their fleet turned to face and then a mass of new radar signals emerged from the Nameless. Missiles, hundreds of them a mix of small and cap ship missiles, bore down on the Home Fleet.
"Here comes the whirlwind." Someone muttered.
As he watched the hundreds of missiles plunge towards them, Lewis felt the old mad urge to jump out of his seat and flee aft as if he could out run the death coming towards him. To his left someone started counting down the seconds until the missiles arrived.
"Lieutenant Preston, would you kindly shut up!" Lewis snapped at him without taking his eyes off the display. "Coms, order all railguns to switch to canister."
Within seconds, all ships so armed, were firing projectiles that once clear of the gun barrel split open and unleashed thousands of ball bearings. A wall of steel formed between the approaching missiles. Dozens, scores of missiles were shattered as they were struck by projectiles travelling at many times the speed of sound, but dozens more found ways through. Point defence guns started to blaze away at the missiles. Many more small missiles died but the big resistant cap ship missiles of the Nameless, could soak up repeated hits before succumbing. The handful of fighters present, were using their small anti-fighter missiles to further thin the incoming, still the missiles closed, the salvo massively reduced but still formidable. The fire from the railguns was slackening now as individual ships kept one up the spout wa
iting to fire at the missiles as they made their terminal approach. Chaff rockets were being fired by every ship, laying down glittering curtains of foil. The tight formation didn’t allow much room for evasive manoeuvres but each ship started to make small course corrections, anything to make the missiles firing solution more complicated.
Finally they arrived.
___________________________
On board Hood, the re-entry had been brutal, right at the borderline of what the old ship’s structure could take. In her command chair, Willis wondered whether she’d received whiplash, but even as the thought crossed her mind she was bellowing orders.
"All fighters launch! Clear the bays!"
"Thirty seconds." Horan shouted back. He glanced left out of the bridge view port, then did a double take. "Oh God! Skipper, look at Tempest!"
Only a kilometre off Hood’s port quarter, Tempest hadn’t exited into realspace exactly parallel to the vector of the jump conduit, instead she’d come out slightly side on. For a newer ship, it would have been merely a matter of embarrassment on the command deck, but decades of exposure to solar radiation had weakened her hull and the sheering forces were too much. The cruiser snapped clean in half between the turrets and the bridge structure. On the bridge of Hood, the flash of escaping atmosphere was clearly visible. The engines fired wildly out of control, before a pillar of fire erupted from the engineering section as the reactor scrammed. Then Tempest was nothing more than a hulk.
"Captain-" Horan began.
"We can’t," Willis shook her head, "we can’t stop, and we haven’t got shuttles. We might be able to go back for survivors afterwards. Concentrate on launching the fighters."
Horan didn’t object, he just nodded.
Willis’s fingers drummed on her armrest as on either side of the hull Raven fighters were pushed clear of the four hangars with stately slowness. Finally in the fully deployed position, the four fighters blasted clear and away, towards the flagship, leaving the Geriatrics far behind. Willis relaxed very slightly. There was now one less thing that could kill them. Positioned at the back of the fleet Hood’s own radar couldn’t see anything, but the data feed from the leading ships showed the Nameless fleet in all its terrible glory.
The Nameless War Page 31