Within ten minutes of docking, ten craft launched to replace the ten he left on station, and within thirty minutes all his craft were reloaded and ready to launch.
Three Years Earlier
John showed his brother his test results, and James laughed, “We both made it! We’re going to fighters.” John shook his head, “Yes, we are, and just so you know, fighters can guarantee us two things: the fastest promotion track of any classification in the navy, and an excellent funeral, although the casket will be empty, at least of human remains.” James laughed at his older brother, “Don’t be such a skunk ape. Of the four hundred plus students, we scored right near the very top, and we’re going to Earth! We’ll get to see Paris and London, maybe Shanghai!” John sighed, “Yes, we’ll see all those cities – from space, you ignoramus. Edwards is in the middle of a desert, and I would be shocked if we were able to get off base even once in the next six months. From what I hear, receiving a four hour pass to actually get off base simply means you’re ten feet further away from any food or water, and ten feet closer to a poisonous reptile.”
James laughed, “I’ve never seen a reptile! This is great!” John looked at his excited brother and smiled gently, “As long as we get bit together.”
Chapter 3
He was able to replace two of the four destroyed fighters with spares. His crews were cross-trained, and in emergencies one pilot could fight the ship. This was not normal times, and he needed every fighter he could get. He was informed that he had enough missiles for less than three more such engagements, terrifying him with the implications. If his crews were swept aside, the enemy could send many dozens of missile-equipped fighters into the federal rear areas, where the supply ships and carriers would be sitting ducks. It would be disastrous, possibly fatal to the defense of this system.
Klaxons went off as his systems detected another flight of enemy craft. He was amazed to discover that this time there were nearly two hundred, double the size of the first assault. If they were smart, they would alter their attack, methodically take out his jammers and spoofers before taking on his fighters, but they didn’t appear to be coming in smart, which was fine with him. They were hurrying their attacks, still confident that if they could push hard against the federal forces, they could once again cause them to collapse.
At this point in the war, he was getting more and better electronic aids than his opponent, and those small and horribly expensive pieces of equipment were the only reason he had a fighting chance to hold off the enemy. Unfortunately, virtually the only new, dedicated military equipment reaching the front lines consisted of those aids and his fighters. Large ships and gravity drive missiles were still somewhere in the future, and had been since the onset of hostilities. Unfortunately, unfulfilled promises had been produced in large quantities.
He scrambled back aboard his fighter as the seconds wound down. Seventy-seven fighters erupted into space. His sensors picked up the distinct tracks of missiles, fighters and explosions, coming from the region his squadron mates were defending. He communicated with his own flight leaders, placing them in the best locations to ward off this even larger attack, now only minutes away.
His carrier fled back toward relative safety as his flights positioned themselves in a rough arc of space. This time he placed them a little closer to each other, believing that the enemy would try to punch through by brute force. It is what he would have done in their place. When the large flight of craft was within seventy five thousand kilometers he ordered his defenders to launch their heavy missiles. Seventy-seven began accelerating towards the enemy carriers, giving the approaching fighters a new problem to solve.
These missiles were capable of a much longer flight under acceleration than the smaller missiles, and were able to coast for an extended period, making them harder to detect. He ordered them to shut down only two minutes after launch, making the task of detection and destruction much more difficult for his approaching enemy.
He made some hasty calculations, and based on the approach velocity of the enemy, he instructed his missiles to go active once they were past the approaching fighters. He knew that killing a carrier was a much better way to stop the enemy than killing the far more nimble and numerous fighters that would become useless without a carrier to dock with.
Apparently, his enemy came to the same conclusion, because fifty fighters began to decelerate, with the obvious intention of giving them more time to detect the coasting missiles. Good luck, he thought, although his wish was aimed at his missiles.
He now faced one hundred and fifty fighters who somewhat raggedly launched half of their load of anti-fighter missiles, demonstrating once again how effective his electronic aids were. Three hundred missiles sprinted toward his ships, nearly four for every fighter he had. He released half of his remaining missiles.
The enemy missiles were once again struggling to discern ghosts from real targets, and were frequently going astray. The two flights of missiles interpenetrated and a large mass of explosions lit up space. Out of that cauldron a bit over two hundred enemy missiles came on into the teeth of his fighters’ lasers, which were exploding missiles nearly continuously.
The ugly blossoms approached his fighters and this time reached into his crews, blotting ten of them out of space. Chamberlin released the final missile, once again at the fighters, and sixty-seven streaked out at a distance of only forty thousand kilometers. An amazing fifty found targets, nearly double the norm, and now there were barely one hundred enemy fighters left.
In ones and twos and then dozens, they bent into turns to get away from his defenses. Chamberlin knew that if they kept coming some could have punched through and taken out his carriers, but they had once again taken huge losses, and lost heart. His electronic defenses provided him with a decided advantage, gave him the high ground, and, only twenty additional dead crewmates.
His carriers accelerated back up toward his fighters, which once again raced to meet them, in the hopes that they could rearm before the next attack.
He looked at his plot and grinned when he realized that his missiles had largely escaped past the fifty fighters tasked to intercept them. In fact they had turned and run when the remnant of their brothers and sisters turned back, fleeing for the relative safety of their own carriers, which were at that exact moment fighting for their own lives as nearly fifty anti-ship missiles came in on them. Chamberlin watched the plot, showing the path of destruction of his missiles as they approached the enemy carriers, then intersected with them.
He could see several apparent impacts on the carriers, and one disintegrated, then a second. One other was hit but managed to survive, an unusual circumstance. Carriers were not true warships, but were modified out of freighters. They had no armor and if a missile hit a deck with munitions, or the drive room, the ship ceased to exist.
He passed on the news that at least two enemy carriers had been destroyed and one other damaged. If the enemy hadn’t launched nearly every available fighter against his position, they would have been able to stop the incoming missiles, but the enemy carriers had been left nearly naked. It had been a gamble that as many as a thousand men and women had paid dearly for.
He lost ten fighters, nearly all of them within five seconds of each other. It hurt terribly, but he put that behind him and concentrated on getting his now exhausted crews fed, while underneath their fighters his people scrambled to place two huge anti-ship missiles in place. He decided he wanted to keep the enemy busy, and as soon as his fighters were loaded up he launched them out into space. On command one hundred thirty four anti-ship missiles launched from just a few kilometers distance from their carrier.
He was told that from the standpoint of the carrier it was an incredible sight. It was also nearly all of the expensive anti-ship missiles he had left. Normally, federal carriers were well protected with missile boats, destroyers, and large missile ships, but in this battle someone thought those ships belonged elsewhere, and in fact they had been unabl
e to replenish his missile stocks before ordering the four carriers to this position.
As soon as the missiles left the racks he instructed his fighter crews to once again dock and take on a full load of anti-fighter missiles. He was down to one full load on his fighters plus one reload. As soon as they were armed, his fighters launched and took up station. Within twenty minutes he had all sixty-seven fighters on station. His crews were exhausted but he felt that the next attack would be the one that would either break him, or his enemy.
He passed instructions to his crews that if for any reason he couldn’t communicate with them they should launch two missiles at one hundred thousand kilometers, one at seventy five thousand and the last one at twenty five thousand kilometers. He never knew if he would survive the engagement and wanted his crews to know what to do.
He spoke to his brother. James lost one of his three crews but he said that everyone was feeling jubilant at the terrible losses they had inflicted on the enemy. All too often, past battles had gone the other way.
He finally received a brief communication from upstream. His superiors were apparently now aware of his situation and instructed him, “...do not let enemy fighters or other craft penetrate your lines. Stop at all costs any attack against your position.” Brilliant instructions.
From his flight couch he watched as his flight of missiles erupted in his enemy’s face. The rebels had sent their carriers into battle with almost no missile ships for defense. The enemy had only its fighters plus the very limited close-in defenses of its carriers. He could see countless streaks of anti-missile missiles, huge explosions that once again walked inexorably towards the enemy. Two more carriers were hit and destroyed and another was left helpless and drifting. His fighters had now destroyed outright four carriers and damaged two more. They had also destroyed well over one hundred fighters, for the loss of fifteen of his crews. It was proving to be an incredibly lopsided battle, and he once again messaged up the chain of command, telling it that he had held off the enemy, but that he was nearly out of missiles and electronic aids. He requested colliers, but he didn’t even get back an acknowledgment. His superiors were busy.
His plot began to light up with the traces of another attack. The numbers grew and grew until he counted over two hundred and fifty fighters coming up at him. His jammers and spoofs came online and began to hash up the entire spectrum. He had rolled the dice and sent out his entire remaining load of electronic aids, the last of which were just now coming on station.
At one hundred ten thousand kilometers his enemy fired half of its missiles, nearly five hundred. These missiles had a nominal range of one hundred thousand kilometers, but since they were launched off of an accelerating fighter, they might be able to reach him, but not his carriers, so his enemy was either inexperienced or spooked. Chamberlin came to the conclusion that after the loss of so many fighters and carriers, the latter possibility was the more likely.
He held off a return salvo until the approaching missiles had reached fifty thousand kilometers, at which time he fired off three of the four missiles his fighters held. He was taking a calculated risk, but he reasoned that it would be better to get the missiles away than lose them when the fighter was destroyed.
Two hundred and one missiles fled toward the five hundred incoming, and Chamberlin grimaced, knowing that it was going to be ugly. A wall of explosions erupted. Approximately three hundred and seventy missiles appeared out of the massive explosions. Chamberlin was now faced with releasing his remaining sixty-seven missiles against the incoming missiles or against the fighters, and he rolled the dice again. He held them back while his fighters’ laser lit up. Spalls of fire blossomed in space, huge swaths of missiles disappeared in explosions, yet there were so many that despite the enormous losses there were still nearly two hundred missiles, now a short thirty thousand kilometers away. His jammers and spoofers wailed and missile after missile went astray, but there were just too many.
His crews never wavered, and their lasers continued to fire while the explosions crept toward their fragile craft, finally intersecting them in boils of light. Fifteen were destroyed within a few seconds, several more moments later, and now he had forty-five fighters, facing two hundred and fifty enemies, odds of over five to one.
At ten thousand kilometers he ordered his remaining crews to fire their last missile, and a pitiful flight of forty-five missiles streaked away. Chamberlin saw with satisfaction that their timing was still tight, and he watched with fascination as his enemy came on into the teeth of every electronic aid Chamberlin had.
They were severely blinded and easy targets for his missiles, which took out thirty-seven, leaving two hundred and thirteen against his forty-five. On his instructions, his crews began maneuvering into a complex weave that would enable them to both dodge lasers and missiles and attack the enemy fighters that were now just a few thousand kilometers distant. The theory was that the enemy’s targeting systems would constantly lose lock as his ships crossed in front of each other.
The enemy released one more missile into the teeth of his lasers. Both the fighters and their streaking missiles were within accurate range of his crews, which were firing continuously.
Chamberlin’s own fighter was jinking madly but he kept his attention on his plot, and continued to issue orders to his crews in a calm voice that only changed pitch because his pilot was pulling seven G’s of acceleration over and above what the craft could compensate for.
His pilot was screaming invectives as she fought to avoid two missiles and three fighters. Chamberlin almost cried, as fighter after fighter was blotted out of existence, yet his people were taking an even worse toll of the enemy.
He watched as over two hundred fighters curved around each other in a complicated ballet of death. His crews had practiced defensive maneuvers countless times, and despite their terrible losses they continued to support one another. The enemy fighters were finally getting to shoot back at his crews, but there were so few federal fighters that as often as not they managed to get in each other’s way. His crews fought desperately to maintain their tight defensive formation, the only tactic that allowed them to survive.
The battle seemed to last for hours, but ended within probably three minutes when the enemy began breaking off. Their retreat turned into a rout, and thirty of his fighters were left amidst the floating wreckage of nearly one hundred rebel and federal fighters. Beacons warbled, signaling the presence of at least some survivors, but it was going to take an outright victory by one side or the other before rescuers could enter the zone of destruction.
He ordered up his carriers and decided to once again load up with anti-ship missiles to keep his enemy busy while he tried to patch together a defense. His crews began docking and once again stayed on board while huge pallets of missiles trundled up to the sides of his craft.
Within twenty minutes his fighters unleashed yet another brilliant flash of light as sixty missiles launched for the long journey of death.
He kept the usual ten fighters in space while the pitiful remnants of his crews loaded up for one last time. They had four missiles on board each fighter. Now that so many of his crews had been killed, he had one more full load of missiles.
Within an hour his plot once again lit up with the oncoming traces of yet another attack. He looked carefully and noted that this time there were merely one hundred and nineteen fighters. The enemy was finally running out of fodder.
His sixty missiles had been met by this same group, and nearly all of them had been destroyed before reaching the carriers, but he noted with a grin that three got through everything and impacted on two carriers, puncturing their paper-thin hulls and destroying one outright. His crews were jubilant when he told them. Seven destroyed carriers plus three more that were probably severely damaged represented a huge victory, unless the enemy punched through into the federal rear areas.
His electronic aids were beginning to go offline but there were still sufficient numbers to make life
difficult for the enemy. He launched three missiles each at one hundred thousand kilometers and ninety missiles sped outward, meeting the enemy fighters just as they were beginning their own launch. It was perfect timing and he watched delightedly as thirteen fighters erupted in huge boils of light. Within the next few moments seven more followed.
Unfortunately, the enemy fighters launched a huge flight of their own, nearly four hundred. Chamberlin noted with puzzlement that the fighters turned back as soon as they launched. He didn’t understand what they were doing. They had him this time. All they had to do was come on and take his few fighters out, but for some reason they hadn’t. That still left the problem of the enormous number of missiles that were targeting on only thirty crews.
He promptly instructed his crews to fire off their remaining thirty missiles at the enemy fighters rather than the missiles, which were no danger to either his carriers or the precious ships behind the lines.
Chamberlin talked briefly to his brother, who had managed to survive while all three of his flight members had not. He was now flight lead for the remnants of three other flights.
As the missiles entered long laser range his crews began firing, and missiles began to disappear in the all too familiar boils of light. His crews hit an amazing number of missiles, but over two hundred and fifty closed to within a few thousand kilometers.
Hawk Genesis: War (Flight of the Hawk) Page 4