Resolute Strike (The War for Terra Book 7)

by James Prosser

  “I’ll put out a search call, sir,” Kama replied before a new signal diverted her attention. “We’re receiving a passive sweep from the fighters.”

  “Damn! Go silent,” Lee ordered, slamming a hand down on his chair, cursing himself for not doing it sooner. “Relay to the escorts. Go dark.”

  Lee felt the ship quiet. The subtle vibrations of the engines were silenced as the ship became a ghost in the sea. Sound did not travel in space, but it seemed the entire vessel held its breath as the passive scanners of the Alliance fighters swept over and past them. Lee kept the small projection running on his chair, watching the small dots as they moved through the distortions. At this distance, Lee could make out the shapes of the fighters. So much like his own fighters, the Eagle class vessels moved gracefully through the ripples, sending out subtle distortions of their own as they broke the waves. Lee imagined he felt the waves rocking his ship back and forth. After an eternity of waiting, the fighters moved off and further into the field.

  “Take our power up to ten percent and move us deeper into enemy territory,” Lee said, finally releasing the held breath tightening his chest. “Order One and Three to move back. Run them back to the Blue safe zone and have them flick on those void projectors occasionally. I want them to leave a trail.”

  “Are you sending my people off to die?” Na’Tora said, stepping back into the command well. “It is an act of—”

  “Unless your next word translates as duty, I would keep it to yourself,” Lee said, staring into the dark eyes of his first officer. “They’ve got their duty and we’ve got ours. Is that understood?”

  There was a tense moment as the Ch’Tauk locked eyes with the human. Lee could feel the sweat on his back as he looked at his own reflection in the compound eyes. For a moment, he thought the alien might lunge, but the moment passed. Lee could feel the vibrations of the ship as Goldstein moved the battleship away. Na’Tora twitched his claws and stepped back again. Satisfied the engagement was over, Lee turned his back and sat back down.

  “Now,” Lee said to his crew. “Let’s get back to the game…”

  7

  Sol System – Sedna

  Admiral Ronald Chang paced the office from one wall to the other. Although still undecorated from a recent refit, Chang’s office on board Baal was still the closest thing he had to a home. Once, he had tried to visit the devastated ruins of Singapore, and found nothing that reminded him of his family or the streets where he had grown up, only the flooded out underground and destroyed buildings which seemed to mock him as he stared. The bridge of a battleship was the place he felt most comfortable, and now even that was denied him. It was a self-exile that had driven him to the office at the back of the bridge. He knew he had been driving the crew insane with his constant update requests. The office was a place he could keep in command but be out of everyone’s way.

  “Admiral,” the voice of Captain Riley came over the speaker. “We’ve translated from M-space and are massing at position Alpha.”

  Instead of replying, Chang changed his course and headed to the door and onto the wide bridge. Riley was seated at the command chair on the upper deck, just in front of the door. The captain heard the door and stood, vacating the seat for the ship’s true master. Chang moved beside the man but did not take the seat. It had been a battle to convince the man he did not want the command. Riley was a good officer, hand-picked by Chang to command the flagship, but he was a bit too old-school for Chang sometimes. After his promotion, Riley had shown up on Chang’s door with a book containing collected news service clips about Chang and his career. It was a type of hero-worship Chang felt increasingly uncomfortable with in light of his recent actions.

  “Give me a tactical area report,” Chang ordered, walking to the edge of the command balcony. “Are we all here?”

  “The fleet has arrived and is in position for the rendezvous,” Riley explained. “Thirty-seven ships in all, including Baal. We have nine Ch’Tauk destroyer analogs and six light cruisers embedded in the lines.”

  “Do we have a report on the enemy movements?” Chang asked. “Are they keeping their schedule?”

  “According to our probes, the Gizzeen are regular as clockwork when it comes to patrols. We should be seeing one of the scout types in three point nine minutes.”

  “Then rig silent and get the fleet ready. Show me the area, please.”

  At Chang’s order, the large projection screen changed to a wide angle view of the surrounding space. Trying to find a weakness, Chang had studied the Gizzeen cataract for months, and had developed plans in case an opening gave them access to home. On the screen he saw the familiar blue fingers of energy that signified the edges of Gizzeen-held space. To Chang, it was an abomination. At this distance, he should have been able to see the faint glimmer of Sol, but he saw only the thick blue space of the cataract. He clenched his fists and bit back a curse.

  “Contact,” came the voice of a sensor operator below. “I have four scout class vessels bearing in from two zero mark three-four-three. I don’t think they see us yet, sir.”

  “Go dark and call out bearing when it changes,” Riley ordered. “If they stay true, they should make a course change to three hundred in about forty seconds.”

  For an eternity, Chang watched the screen as the small vessels moved slowly towards them. Their overlapping plate armor wrapped around a flexible body and long projections made them look like sea creatures moving on some invisible tide. If Chang’s plan was to succeed, he needed to glide past them without being seen. Aided by the little white creatures known as Engineers, they had modified the shield and energy systems of the ships to the best of their ability. If the operation failed, the loss of the strike fleet would be small enough not to decimate the Alliance, but it would still be a blow.

  “Course change to two-ninety-eight,” called out the sensor crew. “They’re moving on a down angle away. I think we’re in the clear.”

  “Don’t count the shrimp before they’re boiled,” Riley called to his crew. “Flash the Vadne and tell them to get ready.”

  To keep communications to a minimum, the fleet had developed a system of communication based on light flashes. Baal’s communication officers were interacting with the weapons crew to send laser targeting light to the nearby Vadne cruisers. It wasn’t the best system, but Chang had felt this method would give them the best chance of success. A quick nod from Riley told him the message was acknowledged.

  “Distance at four hundred kilometers and increasing,” the sensor officer called. “They’re moving away and increasing speed.”

  “At one thousand kilometers, give the signal,” Chang ordered Riley. “Three columns, just like we practiced.”

  “Aye,” Riley said, turning back to the chair and taking his seat. “Sound general quarters. Flight crews to stations.”

  “Don’t launch unless you have to. Even with the improvements, our fighters won’t be much good against their armor.”

  Ronald watched as the crew went about their duty. He still felt pride at the ship, despite not being her master. Baal had battle scars from the war, it was true, but she was still the best ship he had ever commanded. As he browsed around the bridge, he saw the short stumps where the original walkway had once extended over the pit of the operations well. During the refit, the engineers had tried to restore the original configuration of the ship and Chang had stopped them. The balcony he was standing on was the original command bridge. It had been strengthened and reupholstered, but it was the same metal he had strode when he fought the Ch’Tauk. Now he watched the screen as that same enemy flew in formation beside him.

  “One thousand K,” called the operations pit. “Signaling the fleet to move out.”

  “Take it slow. We don’t want to attract any attention,” Riley ordered. “Admiral, any last orders?”

  “No,” Chang replied, feeling a shiver at the question. “You all know what to do.”

  With that, the admiral felt the slight vi
bration indicating the ship was underway. The area of space they were entering had recently shown a disruption: a comet had entered the cataract. The Gizzeen had not seemed to take notice of the disruption and Chang had decided to capitalize on it. The strike team’s goal was to get behind enemy lines and try to gauge their strength and disrupt supply lines if possible. There had been objections, including the chancellor’s, to Chang going on the mission, but he had insisted. It was his plan and his mistakes that had led them to this point and he would be the one to carry it out. He trusted the command staff he had left behind if the mission failed. If he was lost on this mission, the Alliance would know what not to do, and go on without him. The expendable nature of his position had intrigued him, and made him feel more like a military man than he had in years.

  “Sir, we’re crossing over into the cataract,” called the voice from the pit. “Insertion in three … two … one … we are in the cataract.”

  Chang felt a shudder as the strange energy forces disrupted the engines for a moment. It had been planned for, but still sent a spark of fear up his back. The shudder calmed as the enhanced engines took over and smoothed out the ride. Baal was in the middle of the pack, surrounded by warships from four different races. It would take another minute before they were all in, and the silence of the bridge was unnerving. The time seemed to stretch out. He was used to orders being called out and people acknowledging them, but now it seemed everyone was trying to be quiet so as not to attract attention.

  “The fleet has arrived in the Sol System, sir,” called the sensor officer. “We are proceeding on course for—”

  “Contact!” called a different officer from below. “We’ve got incoming from—sir, they’re behind us!”

  “Behind us?” Chang shouted in confusion. “If they’re behind us, that means they’ve crossed over into our space.”

  “They’re coming in fast, sir,” called the tactical crew below. “I show four battleship analogs at one-seven-five mark zero.”

  “They’re right behind us,” Riley said, looking to the admiral. “If they can cross over, then what’s stopping them from a full invasion?”

  “Don’t know,” Chang replied, stepping to the chair and holding hard to the side. “Don’t care either. Right now we need to get anywhere but here.”

  “Sir, the patrol has turned back. They’re coming back but on a lateral vector at two-seventy from below.”

  “We’ve got to get broadside to those battleships. Turn us to ninety mark two and get us up. I want the fleet to spread and open fire when those ships are in range.”

  “That’s going to leave the Ch’Tauk exposed at the back,” Riley called. “Should we move the Akagi back to help?”

  “Negative,” Chang replied. “Akagi is too small to help anyway. They need more than frigates back there. Redeploy the battleships Constitution and Royale to assist and have the Vadne cover the holes.”

  “Sir, the Gizzeen are following our course at one-eighty and paralleling the course at two-seventy. They’re broadside to port and aft and—incoming ships … sir, we’ve got trouble. They’ve got something the size of an assault cruiser coming in fast. Scratch that, they’ve got four of them.”

  “Dammit, they knew we were coming!” Chang called. “Alter course. Get us back into space and get us the hell out of here!”

  A strong jolt nearly toppled Chang as the first blast from the Gizzeen attackers slammed into their modified shields. The projection screen sparked but stayed on, showing the fleet and the attackers locked in battle. The destroyers to their port had already opened fire on the Gizzeen, throwing plasma bursts into the plated hulls. Flashes of golden energy swept across the Alliance ships as the Gizzeen fought back. A quick view of the battle showed the ships behind them had caught up and were engaging the Ch’Tauk ships to the rear. Two of the four had broken away though and were coming in parallel on their port side.

  “We’re cut off,” Chang called. “Try something different. Turn us into the battle.”

  “Sir?” Riley asked. “Into the battle?”

  “Hard left, Mister Riley, and launch fighters. Let’s see if we can lead in this dance.”

  A quick acknowledgement and Chang felt the ship accelerate. The screen changed as Baal turned ninety degrees to port. Scores of Eagle fighters roared from the twin launch bays of the ship, firing lances of plasma at the plated alien ships. Chang knew the weapons wouldn’t do much damage to the enemy but it might provide them with cover. Lightning quick bolts of golden energy fired from the Gizzeen ships, incinerating the fighters two to three at a time. Each death was called out by the operations pit. There was a flare of light to their port side and one of the cruisers disappeared.

  “Turn us around,” Chang ordered. “While they’re busy with the others.”

  The ship lurched back to starboard. Hits along the shields rattled the decks as Baal tried to make an escape. Chang saw the Gizzeen ships following the course change, not letting up as they blasted the strike fleet. The hulls of Alliance ships were now drifting, lifeless, in space behind them.

  “Keep turning! Make them follow us around.”

  The carrier kept its turn, completing nearly a full rotation as the Gizzeen followed. Chang was trying to keep the alien ships aft but they were too fast. As they came around, he saw the enemy slow and break off, turning away from them and back towards the fleet.

  “Cross the T,” Chang called. “Don’t let them get past us. Open up with everything!”

  Although technically a carrier, Baal was a modern warship equipped with enough defensive firepower to hold her own in battle. Plasma cannons, newly installed and powered up, came to bear against the alien ships. Chang saw one of the Gizzeen ships swell as the plasma bursts found a soft spot in its armor. Orange-red flames seemed to trace the edges of the ship from underneath. The enemy ship stopped and listed to the side as its brothers moved forward. Chang saw a blast of light and the bridge erupted around him. He felt a sharp pain as one of the beams holding up the ceiling broke away and swung across the command deck. He felt the impact of the floor, but it was far away.

  “Turn us into the battle again,” a voice cried from far away. “Call the medical teams up here and get the admiral somewhere safe. Where the hell are the Ch’Tauk?”

  “I don’t know,” the sensor officer cried. “We aren’t reading anything. The interference from the cloud is too strong. We’re losing transponder signals and I don’t know if it’s them or us.”

  “Get us closer to that battleship.”

  “I’m trying, but thrusters aren’t responding.”

  “Turn on the damn M-space engines,” Chang said, struggling to is feet. “We don’t need to maneuver, we need speed.”

  Admiral,” Riley called, rushing to the man’s side. “The interference from the cataract is too strong. We can’t turn on the M-space engines here.”

  “We’re not opening a portal. We just need to shunt power through the generator and into the magnetic containment for the reactionless drives. It should give us … give us…”

  The admiral felt the deck rush back up to meet him. Orders were being called out, but so far away. His head slammed into the floor and he was knocked out for a moment. As he regained consciousness, he heard Riley’s voice shouting above the roar of a fire. The ship had been hit again while he was out but he couldn’t figure out where. A cry from the pit below told him the rerouting of the engines had worked and they were pulling away from the enemy.

  “Launch everything we got,” Chang tried to say, but his lips would only mumble. “Dammit, I ordered you to launch everything.”

  “Sir, there’s nowhere to go. There’s too many of them and we only have the slimmest lead.”

  “Contact coming in, sir!” another voice intruded. “Bearing two-ninety-four mark seven. Oh my God. There’s … dozens of— no, hundreds of Gizzeen incoming.”

  “Launch everything we’ve got, Riley,” Chang said. “It’s our only chance.”

 
“Sir, I don’t think we can take on an entire fleet of—”

  “We’re not attacking, Captain. We’re abandoning. Evacuate Baal. That’s an order.”

  The admiral flew away just then. At times he thought he felt hands at his side but he didn’t really care anymore. He was expendable and so was his ship. Both had paid the price for his mistakes and hubris. Whatever came next was what he had earned, after all.

  8

  Battleship Resolute

  The M-space generator room was a vast oval with the sphere of the generator at the center. White-suited engineers were surrounding the sphere, taking the time to check the new systems while the engines were turned off. A cold shiver traveled along Lee’s back as he watched workers climbing on the gleaming surface of the sphere. He had once seen a man lose the top of his head when a ship bucked and he was thrown against the generator. The exotic energies powering the M-space projectors phased in and out between this universe and the membrane separating realities. Contact was deadly when the generator was on, but the war-games had given him the opportunity to shut them down and check for structural stresses after the wild ride had shot them here.

  Roy Booth was standing just to one side of the sphere, pointing under the generator and shouting at someone who had crawled under the big device. Lee opened the clear door to the generator room and entered. He felt out of place in his navy blue duty uniform among the engineers in white radiation suits. Despite his command of the ship, he rarely entered this part of his own vessel. Booth was the master here and Lee didn’t like interfering with the man or his business while the ship was underway. As long as they kept Resolute moving, he was content to leave the workings to the man in charge.

  “Captain!” Booth cried as he glanced up towards the door. The man looked nervous for the first time Lee could remember. “What the hell are you doin’ down here?”

  “Where is she?” Lee asked. “Where’s Alice, Booth?”