by Ryk Brown
“Target’s shields are down,” Mister Navashee advised. “She’s lost all main propulsion and maneuvering, and she’s running on one reactor only.”
“Another round, Lieutenant,” Nathan ordered dispassionately. “We don’t want to have to come back later to finish her off.” Nathan wondered if his lack of emotion was normal, as he coldly ordered the execution of the cruiser and her entire crew. These ships, these men… None have them had directly threatened his ships, or his world. However, others of their ilk had, and given a chance, so would they. This was war, after all… And in war, people died.
“Another round, aye,” the lieutenant acknowledged.
“Stand by to execute jump seven, Mister Riley.”
“Jump seven complete,” Mister Jakoby reported as the Celestia’s jump flash faded.
“Contact!” Ensign Kono reported. “Jung battleship! Ten kilometers, two to starboard, one down! I’ve got multiple jump flashes as well, but no more contacts. Alpha flight must have just jumped out, sir.”
“Keep our nose to bear on the target as we pass, Mister Hunt,” Cameron reminded.
“Commander!” Ensign Kono exclaimed, “I’m not detecting any significant shield failures!”
Cameron’s head snapped to her left. “What?”
“I’m detecting at least two dozen missing emitters, but sensors are only showing a ten percent drop in three of the affected shields!” the ensign explained.
“Tactical! All weapons! Target the weakest shields and fire at will!” Cameron ordered. “Keep firing until we jump!”
“Targeting the weakest shields with all weapons!” Luis acknowledged. “Continuous fire mode!”
“Target is firing!” Ensign Kono reported. “Forward rail guns! No missiles yet.”
“Initiating continuous sequential fire mode on all forward tubes!” Luis announced.
Cameron glanced at the main view screen as plasma torpedoes streaked away from the Celestia on their way toward the distant battleship. “Ship-wide! All hands, brace for incoming fire!”
“Firing plasma cannon one!” Luis announced.
“Mister Jacoby,” Cameron said, “if they fire missiles, don’t wait for my command, just jump.”
“Yes, sir,” the navigator answered.
“Firing plasma cannon two!”
The bridge shuddered as rail gun rounds slammed into the Celestia’s outer hull.
“Damage control reports multiple rail gun impacts across our bow,” Ensign Souza reported from the comm station.
“Firing plasma cannon one!” Several red lights suddenly illuminated on Luis his weapons display. “Two of our forward point-defense lasers are offline!”
“How many torpedoes have we fired?” Cameron asked.
“Firing plasma cannon two!” Luis glanced at his torpedo control board. “Just finished our third round, sir! That’s thirty-six torpedoes! Two more cycles and our torpedo cannons will be too hot to fire!”
The bridge suddenly jerked to the left, nearly knocking Cameron out of her command chair.
“Hull breach! C deck! Section four!” Ensign Souza reported.
“Damn it!” Cameron exclaimed. She turned to her left. “Kono! Have we made any dent in their shields?”
“Two of their four previously weakened shields are now down to twenty percent!” Ensign Kono answered.
“Comms! Warn the Aurora that the battleships shields are still combat effective!”
“Contacts! Target is launching missiles!” Ensign Kono exclaimed. “Eighteen missiles inbound! Impact in ten seconds!”
“Jump us out of here!” Cameron ordered as the Celestia’s jump flash already began to wash over them.
“Son of a bitch!” the leader of Alpha flight declared in frustration as rail gun rounds from the battleship’s fast-tracking point-defense weapons ricocheted off the leading edge of his starboard wing. Blue-white flashes from hundreds of muzzles were visible all across the battleship’s hull.
“There are too many of…”
“Leader! Two! Three is gone!”
“Everyone! Go to full power! They won’t be able to track us if we go fast enough!” the lead pilot declared.
“The ones in front of us will!” his weapons officer reminded him.
“We won’t be able to pitch up in time!” one of the other pilots exclaimed. “We’ll miss our marks! We’ll be jumping directly through their shields!”
“It’s going to fuck with our systems,” his weapons officer warned.
“So will those goddamned rail guns!” the pilot argued as he pushed his throttles all the way to the stops. The ship lurched forward as its main engines went to full power. The battleship below them immediately began to pass under them at a faster rate. Although there was a noticeable drop in the number of rail gun rounds striking their underside, they were still taking quite a few impacts in their forward sections.
“We can’t take much more of this!” the weapons officer warned. “Those rounds may be small, but there’s a fucking lot of them!”
“Just keep firing at that goddamned turret!” the pilot insisted. Another group of rail gun rounds slammed into the underside of their port wing, ripping through its skin and blasting out the top, rupturing one of their propellant tanks in the process. The impact caused the Falcon to suddenly roll to its right, forcing the pilot to counter the motion by yanking his control stick hard to the left. “Damn it!” he exclaimed. “Pitching up! Jump us the hell out of here!”
“My pleasure!” The weapons officer responded.
Moments later their jump flash washed over them. The ship rocked violently for a brief instant just as their jump flash subsided. Warning alarms sounded in their helmet comms as lights flashed on their systems status displays.
“Port fusion reactor just shut down on us!” the weapons officer exclaimed.
“Can you restart it?” the pilot asked.
“I have no idea,” the weapons officer answered. “I’ve got all kinds of tripped breakers and crap showing up back here. Give me a minute.”
The pilot sighed.
“I told you this was going to happen if you tried to jump through their shields,” the weapons officer mumbled.
“Hey, we’re still alive aren’t we?”
“For now.”
“Alpha Flight, check-in,” the pilot ordered over his helmet comms.
“Jump seven, complete,” Mister Riley reported.
“Contact, Jung battleship,” Mister Navashee reported. “Twenty kilometers, four to starboard, two down.”
“Incoming flash traffic!” Naralena announced. “It’s from the Celestia, Captain. Message reads: Falcon attack on battleship ineffective. Battleship’s shields remain combat effective. End of message.”
“Multiple contacts!” Mister Navashee exclaimed. “Missile launch! Thirty-six missiles inbound! Impact in twenty seconds!”
Nathan felt himself tensing up. Things were no longer going according to plan. “New jump,” he began, “put us a few hundred meters aft of the target,” he ordered. “Helm, flip us over fast. Tactical stand by all forward weapons, especially the plasma cannons.”
“Plotting jump,” Mister Riley answered.
“Pitching over hard,” Mister Chiles acknowledged.
“Fifteen seconds to impact!” Mister Navashee updated.
“Triple shots on all weapons, including the cannons,” Nathan added.
“We can only fire triple shots on the cannons two, maybe three times before they overheat, sir,” Lieutenant Eckert warned.
“With any luck, we won’t have to,” Nathan told him.
“Ten seconds,” Mister Navashee updated.
“Jump plotted and locked,” Mister Riley announced.
“Our nose will be over in ten seconds,” Mister Chiles added.
“Five seconds to impact.”
“Snap jump, Mister Riley!” Nathan ordered.
“Jumping!”
The Aurora’s jump flash washed over the bridge. As
the flash subsided the stern of the battleship passed across the main view screen from the left side and slightly below, moving slowly up and center. Although the distance between them was at least three hundred meters and expanding rapidly, Nathan felt as if he could reach out and touch the battleship’s main propulsion nozzles.
“Jump complete!”
“I have a firing solution!” the lieutenant announced.
“Fire at will! And don’t stop!” Nathan ordered.
“Firing triplets on all weapons,” the lieutenant acknowledged. “Torpedoes and cannons.”
The Aurora’s bridge was awash with both the red-orange light of the plasma shots as well as the yellow flashes marking their impacts. The plasma shots continued to pound the aft shields of the massive battleship, causing them to flash an opaque white with each impact.
“Her shields are down fifty percent!” Mister Navashee exclaimed.
“Continue firing!” Nathan ordered.
“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant acknowledged.
“Range to target, five hundred meters and increasing!” Mister Navashee reported. “Target’s shields at twenty-five percent and falling!”
“Plasma cannons are overheating,” Lieutenant Eckert warned.
“Her aft shields are failing!” Mister Navashee exclaimed.
“Torpedoes only!” Nathan ordered. “Continue firing triplets!”
“Torpedoes only, triplets, aye!”
Nathan watched as their next four torpedoes slammed into the stern of the battleship, destroying her main propulsion nozzles.
“Target has lost main propulsion!” Mister Navashee announced.
“She’s yawing to starboard!” Lieutenant Eckert pointed out.
“She’s trying to bring her shielded side to us,” Nathan said. He watched as the next few torpedoes impacted the aft-most portion of the battleship’s starboard shields.
“I’m losing the angle on her unshielded side,” the lieutenant announced.
“Cease fire,” Nathan ordered. He turned toward Mister Navashee. “Where are our Falcons?”
“I show four of them standing off just outside of the target’s defensive perimeter,” Mister Navashee answered.
“They’re probably waiting for us to jump clear before they start their next attack run,” the lieutenant surmised.
“Comms, order those Falcons to join up with Bravo flight to help press the attack on the battle platform,” Nathan ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Naralena acknowledged.
“Mister Riley, execute jump eight,” Nathan added.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Eckert began, “if we come about to starboard we can move in behind her and…”
“She’s yawing not only to keep her shields on us, but to bring her big guns into play as well,” Nathan told him. “Besides, we’ve got a timetable to keep, Lieutenant,” Nathan reminded him, “and with her mains destroyed, she’s not going anywhere. Comms, attempt to make contact with the Celestia. Let her know about the target’s unshielded stern.”
“Firing triplets, all forward tubes!” Luis announced from the Celestia’s tactical station. “Firing port plasma cannons!”
Cameron stared at the image of the Jung battle platform that nearly filled their main view screen. “Damn, that thing is big,” she mumbled. “What magnification are we at?”
“Zero,” Ensign Hunt responded from the helm, glancing back at his captain over his left shoulder.
Cameron could see by the look in her helmsman’s eyes that he found the target equally impressive in size. “Damn.”
“Target is firing!” Ensign Kono warned from the sensor station. “Big guns!”
“Brace for fire!” Cameron ordered.
“She’s firing missiles as well!” Ensign Kono added. “Missile impact in ten seconds!”
The entire ship suddenly rolled hard to port as something struck their starboard side.
“Hull breach!” Ensign Souza called from the comm station. “Starboard underside! Inner hull is still intact! Damage control is reporting loss of all propellant in the forward tank on the starboard side!”
“Are we having any effect on their shields?” Cameron wondered.
“Not much, sir!” Ensign Kono answered. “Less than ten percent in three of her shields on her forward arm!”
“Did the Falcons even touch her?”
“I’ve only counted eight damaged emitters, and a few damaged defensive batteries, sir!”
The bridge shook again as another massive rail gun round tore into the side of the Celestia.
“Damn it!” Cameron swore, slightly losing her composure as she was nearly tossed from her command chair. “Jump us out of here!”
“Celestia has jumped!” the weapons officer reported from the back of Alpha Leader’s cockpit.
“Bravo Leader to all units,” the voice called across their helmet comms. “We start our next attack run in thirty seconds. Keep your speed up as much as possible and maintain your evasive maneuvers. We’ll attack her forward arm again. Target her emitters only! If we don’t get at least one of her shields down, we don’t stand a chance of destroying her!”
“Attack jump plotted and locked,” the weapons officer reported.
“Here we go again,” the pilot mumbled.
“Just don’t try to jump us through her shields again.”
“No promises.”
“Jumping in three……two……one……”
Their helmet visors turned opaque as their jump flashed washed over them once more. When their visors cleared a second later, the hull of the battle platform loomed large outside their canopy. The pilot pulled back hard on his control stick to level off only one hundred meters above the top of the platform’s forward arm.
“Close enough?” the weapons officer asked as he opened fire with their nose turret.
“Nope,” the pilot answered as he squeezed the trigger on his flight control stick to fire the plasma cannons in his wings. Short bolts of plasma energy from their wing cannons flashed yellow against the hull of the battle platform, tearing apart items on the surface of its thick hull. He jerked his Falcon from side to side in wide sweeps, changing the rate and direction, as well as the distance between them and the surface of the massive platform at random intervals.
Streams of rail gun fire poured from the surface of the platform directly ahead of them. “They’re laying down a point-defense wall!” the weapons officer warned. “Directly ahead of us!”
“Can we fly through it?” the pilot asked.
“Part of us can!”
The pilot glanced at his threat display screen, noticing something. “I’ve got an idea!” he announced as he eased his stick forward and moved their ship closer to the platform’s hull.
“What are you going to do, land?” the weapons officer quipped.
“See that inverted V between their streams of fire?” the pilot called out. “I’m going to duck us down through there and out the other side!”
“The other side is the forward wall of the port arm!” the weapons officer reminded him. “We’ll slam right into it!”
“Not if I decelerate!”
“Slow us down? Are you nuts?”
“We’ll dive straight down between the arms!” the pilot insisted. “They can’t fire on us there, not without hitting their own ship.”
“They can fire on us when we come out the other side!”
“I never said my plan was perfect,” the pilot admitted.
The Falcon skimmed the surface of the battle platform, a mere twenty meters above it, ducking between two banks of defensive batteries that were sweeping their barrels across the space above them. As it passed between them, the ship passed between the weapons, it pitched over, nose-to-tail, to fly tail first. The Falcon fired its main engines at full power for a full second, reducing its speed considerably before it pitched over another forty-five degrees and fired its main engines again, blasting downward between the massive arms of the battle platform.
/> “We’re still drifting toward the port arm!” the weapons officer warned, the tension in his voice building.
“I know! I know!” the pilot answered as he adjusted their pitch to attempt to correct the drift. He glanced upward at the shadowy hull of the platform’s port arm as they slid past on their way out the other side. A few seconds later, just as the hull appeared close enough to reach out and touch, it disappeared completely. “Yes!” the pilot declared triumphantly. A moment later, several small rail gun rounds danced across their starboard wing, reminding him that they were far from being out of danger. “Crap! Give me an escape vector!”
“Two four seven!” the weapons officer answered. “Any speed!”
The pilot pitched their nose a bit more and yawed slightly to port. “Two four seven!”
“Jumping!” the weapons officer announced as their visors turned opaque once more and the jump flash washed over them.
A second later their visors cleared, and they were out of danger once again.
The pilot took in a deep breath and exhaled. “God, I hope we don’t have to do that too many more times!” He turned his head, looking over his right shoulder at his weapons officer behind him. “You okay back there?”
“Other than my urine-soaked suit, I’m fine.”
The pilot looked forward again, checking his flight systems for any signs of damage. “Did we even hit anything on that pass?”
“Doubtful,” the weapons officer answered. “Not with the way you were jerking us around and all.”
“Jump eight, complete,” Mister Riley reported.
“Platform is five kilometers out, five hundred meters below and starboard of our course,” Mister Navashee reported. “I’m picking up minor fluctuations in several of their forward shields, including a single shield failure on the starboard side of their forward arm.”