Willis felt her throat tighten as the Nameless fired.
"Captain, shall we fire?" The gunner asked nervously over the intercom
It took a moment before she could speak.
"No, hold fire. Let’s wait until we have something close enough to hit. Select a target and start running a targeting plot."
There was silence on the bridge as the missiles bore down. With her guns masked, Hood was merely an observer to this first exchange of fire. They were close enough to see the flashes as the forward ships started firing. It was hard to sit there but there was simply no point in firing just for the sake of firing. No point in wasting the ammunition.
Thus impotent, Hood had a grandstand view as the missiles arrived, and the dying began.
___________________________
The Warspite lurched violently sideways as a missile slammed in. The two starboard side shuttlebays were flattened like tinfoil, bits of hull plating spiralled away, but for the most part the ship’s armour absorbed or redirected the force of the blow away from the vitals. But no other human ship had an armour scheme as massive as Warspite’s.
The destroyer Dragoon staggered out of line, shattered, as a missile blew away everything forward of the bridge. Only one escape pod got clear before another missile streaked in and reduced her to atoms. The crew of Cuckoo was luckier, nearly half got out before she was gutted. The heavy cruiser Anubis, gushed atmosphere as her portside railgun sponson was ripped clean off. The cruiser Nile lurched out of formation as her bridge was wiped away, and her fourth lieutenant abruptly found herself in command. One cap ship missile, its guidance system perhaps damaged or confused by the mass of interference, missed the leading elements of the fleet and plunged down through the formation, still seeking a target.
___________________________
"We’re being pinged!" The senior sensor operator shouted.
Willis let out her breath in a hiss, on the display a red blip with brackets bore down on the Geriatrics.
"Bringing guns online!" Called out the gunner.
"Negative! Negative! We can not fire up through the fleet!" Willis shouted back. "Point defence only, commence! Commence! Commence! Countermeasures full spread on my mark!"
Willis caught the petty officer at the countermeasures board casting desperate looks at her, as his hand hovered over the launch key. They couldn’t afford to launch too soon though.
"Steady people! Steady!" Willis ordered almost impressed how even her voice sounded.
Off to starboard, their fellow Geriatric Whirlwind let off her chaff rockets, concealing herself behind a glittering curtain of foil. Too soon! A little voice in her head said. The missile was now close enough to see on the visual display. Hits from the point defence guns were striking sparks off the missile casing, but not biting deep. On the bridge tactical display, the green blip at the centre started to blink urgently as the system registered that the missile was now locked onto Hood.
"Countermeasures, now!"
Four rockets blasted out of their launchers and exploded thirteen kilometres in front of Hood’s bow. The missile hesitated as its chosen prey was blotted out. To their portside, Hurricane fired her rockets, depriving the missile of that option. But now Whirlwind’s chaff screen had dispersed leaving the little cruiser denude. The missile turned away from Hood and roared in. Desperately Whirlwind fired off another volley of chaff rockets but it was too late. The missile burned past the rockets before they burst and hammered square on into the cruiser. There was a flash, then a second much larger, eye watering flash as Whirlwind’s reactor breached.
When the vacuum of space snuffed out the fury of nuclear fire there was nothing left.
"Sensors?" Willis asked quietly. It was more like a plea than an order.
The petty officer at sensors shook his head.
"Negative escape pods. No one got out, skipper."
"Oh god! Oh god…" someone muttered in the background.
Back in the engine room, Guinness instinctively glanced towards the forward bulkhead. The blank steel wall told him nothing. The old adage that ‘the waiting is the worst part’ didn’t apply to the engineer crews. The worst was not knowing. On starships there wasn’t any boom of gunfire or concussion from near misses only the hum of the reactor and generators. Oh he knew that Hood was firing because the guns were now drawing power but other than that, nothing. Some skippers he’d served under had given a running commentary when they got a chance, but it would seem Commander Willis wasn’t one of those officers. Which, given that this was her first time out on her own, wasn’t that bad an idea. Still it would have been good to know how they were doing.
He looked back down at his people and felt a swell of pride. They might be a scratch crew thrown together but they were performing magnificently.
"We’re giving them what for lads!" He shouted down the bay, adding I hope in the privacy of his own head.
___________________________
Lewis read down through the damage reports grimly. Ten minutes into the action and already the damage was appalling. Big as the Nameless cap ship missiles were, they were still bloody small targets for the plasma cannons and railguns. The status indicators of several ships were showing serious damage. In particular the Nile, was now outside the main control grid and struggling to keep up. If only he’d been able to put squadron eighteen out in front to absorb the first salvo. It would have been pure murder for the crews, but it might have left the rest of the fleet in better condition. At a hundred thousand kilometres, the Nameless were right at the edge of the effective range of his cruisers guns, and beyond that of the destroyer’s. They’d come out close to the Nameless, but not quite close enough. Any moment now, the aliens would come about and start to move away from them. Warspite and the other modern ships would have the acceleration to close the range in a stern chase. But the older vessels and those ships now damaged, they would struggle. Within a next few minutes he would have to choose between keeping his fleet together and failing to close, or pursue at best speed and see the Home Fleet strung out, leaving individual ships vulnerable.
"Sensors, Command!" Rang out across the command frequency, "Profile change, they are turning."
"Coms, prepare to order the fleet to pursue." Lewis called out.
"Hang on, sir," Sheehan said, "sir, they’re turning towards us!"
"What the hell?" Lewis said out loud. "Sensors, confirm the enemy is closing."
"Confirmed command, range is dropping. Their formation is opening up, but all combat vessels are closing on us. We’re seeing two large contacts moving away, we’re assuming they are the tankers."
Lewis shook his head in open puzzlement; why in hells name would the Nameless close on them? Range was their big advantage and yet they seemed to be intent on throwing it away. With every kilometre they closed, the killing potential of the Home Fleet increased. Lewis tried to get into the mind of his opposite number. What the hell was the alien thinking? Had seeing scores of missiles fall short of their target convinced him that he needed to be close? Or did he believe that that first salvo had been so devastating that the Home Fleet was already severely mauled. Certainly the Home Fleet’s combat capability was reduced, but the casualties had been mostly smaller and older ships, most of Lewis’s commands were still very much combat worthy.
Even as Lewis considered these points, Warspite’s guns were stabbing out; an alien cruiser died beneath the battleship’s guns. It didn’t make sense, he couldn’t believe they were that stupid, there had to be something he was missing.
"Sensors, are we picking up anything other than ourselves and the enemy?
"Command, the only other thing we have is that courier on the other side of their fleet."
"It’s still there?" He asked with some surprise. What the hell was a courier still doing running around in a combat zone?
"Yes, sir.”
"Can we put a laser onto it?"
"No, sir. Too much traffic between us."
"
Any sign of Dauntless herself?"
"Negative that, sir."
Lewis nodded. all right, he though to himself, the courier had probably been sent to act as beacon if necessary. They were sticking around through a misplaced sense of duty or lack of wit. No sign of Dauntless, hopefully Emily had survived and had the good sense to head for cover. The Nameless had broken into four uneven groups. The largest was moving across the Home Fleets bows, the second and third groups were going high and low, the final looked like it was working its way round the back. Within the next twenty minutes, the Home Fleet was going to be surrounded. Not good but not automatically fatal. The bulk of the Nameless ships though, seemed to be committing themselves to forming a conventional battleline. This was a gift horse he’d looked in the mouth long enough.
"Captain Sheehan, I want cruiser squadron seventeen to form top cover, squadron seven to take bottom, third and fourteenth form up around Warspite and Fortitude. What’s left of eighteen will cover the rear. Destroyers take up screening positions. Once we’ve re-formed, we will turn in succession at these co-ordinates. If they want to trade punches, I’m more than willing to oblige them."
___________________________
Hood’s guns fell silent as the leading elements of the fleet crossed through her firing lane. As rearguard elements, the surviving Geriatrics would be the last ships to make the turn. In her command chair, Willis was gritting her teeth. The gunner was doing his best, but with the range to the closest Nameless still fifty thousand, Willis doubted that Hood had hit anything yet. There was no point in shouting at the gunner, he could only work within the limitations of his equipment, there was certainly no point distracting him with worthless instructions. That just left her to worry, and there was plenty to worry about. Once the turn was complete, Hood and Hurricane would be playing Tail End Charlie. With the turn complete, a dozen or so Nameless ships would be behind them. With no gun bearing aft, plus the difficulty of seeing through their own engine inference, the Geriatrics would have to zigzag across the rear of the rest of the Fleet. She’d run the numbers quickly on her own console, the shallowest zigzag they could run and cover their own rear, would increase the distance they had to travel by at least a third compared to if they ran straight. Problem was, holding a steady course, Hood could just about pull enough acceleration to keep up with the fleet. If they were required to start steering back and forth across the Home Fleets wake, that ability to maintain contact started to become more than a little suspect.
Willis flicked on her intercom.
"Chief, I need an update on the engines. Any progress on getting number two engine back on line?"
There was a pause on the line then Guinness replied.
"Number two is a no go. I’m sorry skipper but it’s a dockyard job. We’ve isolated it from the rest of the grid so we don’t get plasma bleed, but that’s as much as we can do. The rest of the engines are holding up all right at the moment skipper, but I recommend easing off a bit."
"Where do we stand on increasing power?"
She heard a sharp drawing of breath at the other end of the line.
"Skipper, we’ve already redlined the engines for over half an hour. We’re just about keeping ahead of the breakdowns at the moment, but if we don’t throttle back…"
"If we throttle back chief, we’ll fall behind the rest of the fleet and I don’t think the flagship is going to wait for us."
There was another long silence.
"I’ll do what I can, skipper. Engine Room out.”
As the connection closed they started to make their turn, Hood’s bows swung around and the guns once again went into action.
___________________________
For forty minutes the two fleets had burned through space, tearing at one another. The crew on the Flag Bridge of Warspite remained as professional as ever, but there was an atmosphere, one of jubilation. Even the greenest rating could see that the Home Fleet was giving a lot better than it was getting. They’d lost ships certainly, but over twenty Nameless warships were now wreckage drifting astern.
At odds with the atmosphere on his bridge Lewis studied his tactical display; his face locked in an intense frown. There was no doubting the battle was going well, so well in fact Lewis could feel his hackles rising. Warspite alone, had destroyed or severely damaged ten plus enemy ships. The rest of the Home Fleet was dealing out equally horrific punishment. But why were the Nameless standing and taking it?
In the clash against Mississippi the Nameless had fired from outside radar range, and only closed after it appeared the human ship was destroyed. But here, they had accepted action inside plasma cannon range from the outset. A range bracket where they were at a clear disadvantage against the heavily armoured human ships.
Why? Any half way competent Admiral, facing combat at such a disadvantage would cut his losses and attempt to break off. He would only stand and fight if the loss in ships could be justified by something else. But nothing Lewis could see looked like a reason for the Nameless to stand. They were killing a Nameless ship every few minutes, yet his instincts were screaming that something was wrong. What was it that he didn’t know?
The only possible clue was the courier ship. Shadowing the Nameless when they arrived, the little ship was still visible on Warspite’s radar. It had been fired upon several times, forcing it to jump away, usually from one side of the battle zone to the other. But each time it started to sidle back in. Even military courier skippers were a cautious lot. With ships no sturdier than eggshells, they had good reason to be. But this one had remained. Why? It was unarmed and unarmoured; it could not assist the fleet. So why had it remained? The more Lewis watched the more he saw a pattern. Whenever it started to get close, Nameless ships would disengage from the battle and run it off. Very strange, what the hell did that courier know that it was so desperate to pass on and the Nameless, were equally desperate for him not to know?
"Tim, have we had any luck putting a coms laser onto that courier yet?" He asked knowing what the likely answer would be.
"No, sir." Sheehan replied. "We’ve tried and they’ve tried. There’s so much rubbish floating around us all, we can’t get a solid lock; all we’ve got has been corrupted to hell."
"Send general signal all ships, order them to laser that courier if they can. Pass on anything they get to Flag."
___________________________
"I’m making it four cap ship missiles, two pairs, plus light missiles out in front. I think they’re trying to confuse our radar by getting them so close together the contacts merge."
"Understood, sensors. Time to effective range?" Willis called back. After three quarters of an hour of action her voice was becoming horse. She was desperate for a drink but the action had been so intense, that she’d barely had time to blink let alone anything else.
"Twenty seconds, skipper. Hurricane is firing ma’am." Replied sensors.
"Signal from Hurricane, they’ll take the ones on the right" Called out the signals man.
"Roger! Guns target the ones on the left. Countermeasures stand by." Willis ordered.
"Roger!" The Gunner confirmed.
"Skipper, signal from Flag; if possible we’re to make laser hook up with courier at the edge of the combat zone and forward to Flag." The Coms officer shouted across the bridge.
"Jesus, we have better things to be doing!" Willis snapped. "Signal confirmed. Keep an eye on it but first priority to the tactical coms net."
Willis looked back at the display holo with a worried frown. As she had feared, the two remaining members of the Geriatrics were falling behind the rest of the fleet. Keeping up meant pushing the engines, and the old machinery just couldn’t take it. Every few minutes one of the engines broke down, Hood’s acceleration dropped and they lost another few thousand kilometres on the rest of the fleet. Each time Guinness managed to bandage the machinery back into operation, but Willis didn’t need to ask him to know he could not keep that up indefinitely. When the engines started to f
ail, she had reported to the flagship that they couldn’t continue to match the fleets’ acceleration, to her profound lack of surprise the pace hadn’t slackened. Hurricane also struggling and the best the two stragglers could do was stick together for mutual protection.
"Missiles crossing into range."
"Designator locked on."
"Fire."
The calls came across the bridge from different locations as they went through the firing procedure. It had been ragged at the start of the action as Hood’s hotchpotch crew learned on the job, but now it was as smooth as silk. Willis tried to find comfort in that, but instead worried that it would all fall apart if they took a hit and people suddenly had to think rather than react.
A Long Lance missile blasted out of Hood’s portside launcher. Her idea of using their missiles to knock down the Nameless’s big cap ship missiles had worked surprisingly well. She hadn’t realised just how it would strain her nerves through. Coming in from nearly directly astern, the overtake speed of the missiles was slow. But Hoods’ radar problems meant they still had to nail a missile the first time. They wouldn’t get a second shot. The Long Lance missiles Hood carried relied on a laser being kept focused on the target. To do that the Hood had to fly straight and level. And when an enemy missile was bearing down on you and every instinct is screaming for evasive action, that was easier said than done.
Two missiles blew as both Hood and Hurricane claimed a kill. The wave of small missiles mostly destroyed by point defence, the ones that got through failed to inflict significant damage. As one, the two ships rolled to present their starboard launchers. After an agonising pause the designators locked on and both ships fired again.
The Nameless War Page 32