by Lance Berry
United Earth Force began to even the battlefield a bit, winning several decisive engagements which kept the enemy from further encroaching on Earth’s claimed space. The Horizon led many of these campaigns, her forces along the way facing off at times against the renowned Calvorian general Tholin and his dreadnought the Necrosis. Even with the possibility of death always near at hand, it was a thrill for Travis to be present on the bridge when the captain and Tholin dealt with one another; out of any enemy they had encountered, only Tholin was an equal to Christenson in combat strategy. Although they had managed to barely turn Tholin’s forces away from Earth space several times, to hear Christenson speak of him over drinks in Down Time, it was obvious he had a type of grudging respect for the Calvorian. He even said on several occasions that if it weren’t for the war, he was certain he and Tholin would have been the best of drinking buddies.
After a time, there was a type of optimism within the UEF fleet that perhaps the war might soon end. Even if they couldn’t fully defeat the enemy, they might be able to hold them off to the point where the Calvorians would realize that conquering Earth was just too vast an expenditure of resources to continue…maybe they would finally just give up.
After each victory, the senior staff would either invite Travis and some of the junior officers to drinks in Down Time, or the staff and Travis would meet up later in the Christensons’ quarters for cards. Things went very well aboard the Horizon in Travis’ first year…
And then, 2190 happened.
Chapter 35
June 9th, 2190…
Travis had awakened early that morning, about four hours before his duty shift was to begin. He had slept well enough, but for some reason was unable to reclaim his slumber when he accidentally stirred awake. Rather than fight the frustration of tossing and turning in bed, he decided to throw on some sweats and head to the gym for a quick workout. Afterwards, he planned to return to his quarters for a shower and change into uniform, then head to Down Time for an early breakfast. He had just stepped out of his room when an announcement chime rang out over the ODC, and Mara’s voice echoed throughout the decks:
“Attention all bridge personnel. This is an emergency shift change. Repeat: this is an emergency shift change. All hands, go to battle stations. All hands, to battle stations. The following officers are to report to the bridge for duty immediately: Arroyo, Lisbet. Buttlefield, Sarah. Donahue, Marvin…”
Travis did a one-eighty and headed back into his quarters as Mara spoke, just in case she mentioned his name. He threw open his closet doors and waited as she sorted thru the bridge officers alphabetically, and finally she did indeed call him out. He all but ripped off his sweats in an attempt to hastily change, and threw the grey sweats unceremoniously onto his bed as he began to put on his uniform. He was finished in only about a minute and gave himself a quick, concise once-over in the mirror before heading to the bridge.
When the doors opened onto the bridge’s command deck, Travis was surprised to find that many of the officers called had already arrived and taken their stations, which was unusual for any shift change. However, Travis had never undergone an emergency change before–in fact, he had never heard of such a thing in his entire career–and concluded that these had to be an unusual set of circumstances, whatever was going on.
Mara was seated at the ops console as expected, and nodded briskly to Travis as he walked past her. He returned the nod and saw that Captain Christenson was in center seat, a look of deep concentration etched onto his face. If he took any notice of Travis as the young man passed him on the way to the helm, he didn’t reveal it.
Travis relieved the officer at helm, who then immediately left the bridge. As Travis took his seat, he noted with some surprise that the main viewscreen was filled with dozens of Heavy Cruisers moving into a defensive formation, with Earth in the background. Just the night before, the Horizon was at least thirty light years away from home. What was going on?
“All officers, sound off,” Captain Christenson said.
One by one, as they had done dozens of times in the past, the rounds were made from communications all the way around to the auxiliary tactical station. When it was done, Mara made a quick notation at her console and turned to her husband. “All bridge officers present and accounted for, Captain.”
“So noted,” Christenson said, then stood. “Speaker,” he said to the ODC, which gave him an answering chime in response. Christenson’s voice echoed through the decks as he spoke:
“This is the Captain. Very recently, news was delivered to Earth Force Intelligence from an undisclosed source, stating that the Calvorian Alliance has decided to push through with a final attack on Earth, bent on crushing the protective fleet around our planet and subjugating our home world once and for all. With Earth conquered, our colonies on Mars, Luna and elsewhere will have no choice but to surrender, since they have nowhere near the amount of defensive measures in place necessary to repel further invasion forces. Earth Force Command has verified this information to be totally and indisputably accurate. Early yesterday morning, a massive fleet was detected en route to Earth, and is expected to arrive within the Sol system in a matter of hours. Unfortunately, Intelligence has come to the conclusion that the Calvorians have done a very nice job of keeping the majority of our forces spread apart throughout a diverse number of star-systems just far enough away that almost none of our ships could possibly make it here in time to assemble with us. Lest our hopes fall too much, let me say that we do have a sizeable fleet of our own waiting for us near Jupiter, where we will now head for rendezvous.”
He paused a moment, gathering himself. He exhaled lightly and said to his crew, “We’ve been together a long time, the lot of us. Some of you transferred over here with me nearly eleven years ago from the Victory. Of all the soldiers I have fought beside, of the crews with whom I’ve served… I have never been more proud of any than this one. Today we fight the most important, and perhaps final, fight. Today we either make history…or we pass into it. I believe that we have no other option but to make history. And I know that every one of you will give their all. Cheers, lads. Christenson out.”
And with that, the speaker shut off and the bridge crew began to applaud their captain. Christenson waved them off, shutting it down. “It’s time,” he said simply, and nodded to Buttlefield as he took his chair once more. The young lieutenant’s fingers skipped across her console and she pointed to her captain. “You’re on with the fleet, sir.”
“This is Captain Christenson to fleet ships. As of this moment, we are the 79th Division. We will be jumping to Jupiter on my mark and meeting up with the 128th, 34th and 91st divisions for a combined total of five hundred and thirty-six ships. It is our duty to hold this line, as brothers and sisters of Earth, for if we fall…what stands behind us is gone. Prepare to jump on my mark.” He then looked at his navigator and helmsman. “Lieutenant Arroyo, set course for Jupiter, at synchronous orbit above its Great Red Spot. Lieutenant-Commander Rand, we’ll be using the Alcubierre backups for light speed jump…sixty seconds should suffice, I believe.”
Arroyo and Travis both made their acknowledgements and prepared their consoles for the jump. She input the proper coordinates from her terminal to Travis’ and he brought the flagship smoothly around on course for the giant planet, the stars now filling the viewscreen…Jupiter only a distant pinprick among them. Christenson signaled the fleet and as one, all the Heavy Cruisers present jumped to light speed, the stars disappearing on the viewscreen for a few moments as the Horizon moved too fast for them to remain visible.
Almost a minute later, the Horizon and the 79th Division it led decelerated from light speed and Jupiter’s massive body filled the central screen. Christenson ordered for magnification, and Travis’ chest swelled with pride as he set eyes upon the assemblage of mighty Earth war cruisers which were in ready formation above the perennial tempest known as the Great Red Spot. True, even these huge ships were dwarfed by the size of the almost
-star named after the lord of the Roman gods, but Travis knew what power they held combined. Heaven, Earth and all worlds in between could fall prostrate before such a force.
“This is Captain Christenson to all ships,” David calmly announced. “As per dictum of United Earth Force Command, as of this time and date, I am assuming command of this fleet. The 79th Division will take point, with the Horizon as lead. All ships, acknowledge.” He then gestured for Travis to move the Horizon into position, even as he turned to look over his shoulder at his wife.
“All ships are accounted for and their captains acknowledge your authority,” Travis heard Mara report as he guided the ship to a point at the head of the assembled fleet, while being careful to compensate for the immense planet’s gravity field. At twenty thousand times stronger than Earth’s own, Jupiter’s magnetic field would very well pull each and every ship down into the planet if they didn’t carefully work with the gas giant’s rotation to stay in orbit.
There was silence for what seemed like forever. Finally, Buttlefield chose to be bold enough to break it. “What now, sir?” Her question was simple yet eloquent at the same time, broaching the subject none on the bridge had the nerve to explore. Christenson turned in his chair to face her. “Now there is nothing to do but stand and wait, as always.”
Buttlefield silently considered his answer, but then spun back toward her console as it gave off a beep announcing an incoming signal. She glanced back at the captain. “It’s a call from the Watch Station on Pluto, sir. A Lieutenant-Commander Markwood.”
Christenson nodded in acceptance, and she put the signal through. “This is Captain Christenson aboard the Horizon. We’re receiving you, Commander. Go ahead.”
There was a light burst of static, which Buttlefield rushed to clear up as best she could. A light haze remained however, as the young man on the other side of the com-line spoke. “Captain, our sensors just detected the alien fleet entering the system. They’re passing Pluto now, en route to Neptune. My god, even at just under light speed, those things are cruising–!”
“Lieutenant, I need to know how many ships there are,” Christenson said in a stern voice, attempting to force the young man stationed on the former planet to refocus. “What make of ships, and their E.T.A.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Markwood answered. “Their fleet appears to be just a few less than your own, Captain. But…” he hesitated a moment, then finally said, “There are forty dreadnoughts in their convoy, sir. Forty.”
There were apprehensive looks all around the bridge. Even so, Christenson’s voice related a calm detachment as he said, “I understand, Lieutenant. And their estimated time of arrival at our position?”
“Um, uh…just inside of twenty minutes, sir. If they continue at present speed.”
“They will, I’m certain. Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant–“
“Sir, if I may–?” Markwood interrupted. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Christenson out.” The com-line shut off and the captain adjusted in his seat just slightly and leaned back a little bit, as if trying to get comfortable. He looked over at Buttlefield and nodded his head once more. As before, she adjusted her console before turning to him. “You’re on, sir.”
“Christenson to all ships. Pluto Watch Station informs us that the enemy will be at our point within twenty minutes. I want the Aruba, the Sagittarius, the Calypso and the Babylonian to form up two each on my port and starboard sides, as relatively mentioned. Jupiter’s gravity should mask the signatures of a fleet even our size. When the Calvorians appear on our scopes, we’ll jump out at them at near light speed and catch them unawares. There are forty dreadnoughts in the group approaching, and they need to be taken out first by any means necessary. Until my signal, we’ll maintain com silence. Stand by.” Buttlefield put the channel on hold, and as Christenson had said, there was nothing left to do but wait.
The minutes which passed as they waited for the enemy fleet to appear were interminable. No one said anything, and the only sounds on the bridge were the regular background noises of instruments calmly at work. Travis sat at his console, trying to anticipate what the captain’s strategy would be, and what the aliens would do in return. It was a handy exercise, since it took his mind off of the fact that there was a larger number of dreadnoughts in this attack force headed their way than what the enemy command had ever allocated to any squadrons ever sent against UEF forces, at least to his knowledge. He checked his console’s tactical board once more in order to perform a cursory scan of the immediate sector of space past Jupiter…and a large blip appeared. His eyes widened and he was about to say something to the captain, when the ODC snapped on and Tanner Matthews’ voice rang loud and true over the speakers: “Tactical to bridge. The enemy fleet has just appeared on my sensors, Captain. They’ll be in attack range within fourteen seconds!”
“Acknowledged, Tanner,” Christenson said as he sat a bit more straight in his chair and glanced over at Buttlefield. “Switch to fleet-wide channel seven-four-eight.”
Buttlefield swiftly adjusted her console and gave a signaling nod to Christenson. “Christenson to all ships. The enemy is about to enter attack range. Attack squads Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon and Zeta–it will be your duty to blast into them first. Hit the dreadnoughts hard and try to drive a wedge between them. Attack groups Alpha, Theta and Iota will then begin to carve them up while groups Kappa through Omicron will sweep in after us and keep them separated while we tend to our own targets. Divide and conquer is how we’ll win this. All jump, on my mark…now!”
Travis snapped to, working his console to bring the Horizon hard to starboard, pulling the ship away from Jupiter’s massive gravity output. So near a planet as huge as this with such a strong magnetic field, it was impossible for Heavy Cruisers to generate artificial wormholes which would be stable long enough for their ships to enter–the fusion backup engines had to generate a null field around the vessel instead in order to achieve light speed velocities. Travis quickly re-checked the coordinates Arroyo had fed to his board, brought the ship up to light speed, and again the stars around them vanished briefly. When the vessel slowed down once more, a fleet unlike any other lie before them; at least five hundred Calvorian warships cruising through the Sol system in three massive columns… and at the forefront of the assemblage, forty massive dreadnoughts, lined up one after another within their rows.
Calvorian dreadnoughts were large, angular, nasty looking beasts. Even from a distance, their gun ports were visible, ready to tear into an enemy. They were nearly double the size of a Heavy Cruiser, and it was said that a single shot from one of them could crack an Earth vessel in two. It was a myth, of course, but all myths have the power to take hold in the human mind and become the birth mother to nightmares.
Seeing so many of them in one group for the first time in his life, Travis felt the touch of fear nibbling at the base of his spine. The primal urge, when confronted with what appears to be certain death, to move in the opposite direction as fast as possible…to flee to safety. To his own amazement, he managed to almost instantly suppress the feeling and replace it with a righteous indignation that these ships were almost casually strolling through humanity’s backyard as it were, hoping to catch them unawares and bring down their end upon them. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the order to come from his captain to dive in. Part of him longed for it, begged for it. For some reason his mind flitted to the image of his poster hanging on the wall of his quarters; the picture of Earth with the words “For Freedom. Forever.” Travis nodded to himself; if he was to die this day, at least he knew what ideals he would be dying for.
“Christenson to attack fleet,” the captain’s voice called out, certain and strong. “Squads Beta through Zeta–strike!” At once, on the main viewscreen at least forty Heavy Cruisers dove toward the enemy, firing in nearly perfect unison at the dreadnoughts alone. Their lasers struck straight and true, but were easily deflected by the alien shields, which ope
rated not on the principles of magnetic repulsion as did Earth vessels’, but were a reinforced wall of pure energy.
The dreadnoughts opened fire.
Their energy cannons, double the size and firepower of a standard Calvorian battle cruiser, tore into the shields of the Heavy Cruisers at the forefront of Beta squad. Travis was grateful that the myth was dispelled, and it took more than one blow to damage the Cruisers. Yet the shields on the Repulse fluctuated wildly, valiantly trying to hold out against the thunderous pounding they were taking–but ultimately collapsed, and a large portion of the hull went with them. Another few shots and the side of the Repulse caved in, crumpled in on itself like an empty soda can crushed with one squeeze, and then the Heavy Cruiser exploded into fragments.
The other Cruisers in the first wave pressed on and now fired their energy rammers, which likewise had null effect. It was an amazing and horrifying thing to see, their efforts rebuffed so easily as only the first five lead dreadnoughts returned fire and blew away three more Heavy Cruisers. But then the rest of the first portion of the Earth attack fleet used their antimatter torpedoes…and nothing in existence could stand up to a barrage of antimatter.
Six of the UEF ships remaining in Beta squad concentrated their efforts on the two most forward dreadnoughts in the enemy fleet. The Calvorian ships’ energy walls held for several very long moments…but finally, a few of the torpedoes found their mark against solid metal and several explosions against the alien ships’ hulls announced that a new reality was being set up; Earth’s forces had a chance.
“Yes! Yes,” Arroyo said as she slapped her palm against the top of her board.
“Don’t get overwhelmed in the moment, Lieutenant,” Christenson warned from behind her. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal. Attack groups Alpha, Theta and Iota–the cornerstone has been set. It’s time to build the bridge!”