by Jay Allan
“Very well, commander.” Garret had been quiet and thoughtful since his half of Grand Fleet transited into X2. Compton’s ships were far across the system, near one of the two egress warp gates. The two forces were almost 2 lighthours apart, which was doing nothing to facilitate communication. “Nelson, estimated time for a response from Admiral Compton?” Garret had sent Compton an extensive communique, filling him in on the plan, and directing him to move his fleet back toward the X1 gate. That had been about 3 ½ hours before.
“Assuming Admiral Compton received your message and responded immediately, the transmission should reach us within a range of 8 to 18 minutes, the margin provided to account for the unpredictability of human response times.”
Garret sighed softly. He’d worked closely with his AI for many years, and the personality module had been uniquely attuned to him…at least until Alliance Intelligence had sabotaged the system, destroying the persona that had been Nelson. The AI managed to save a portion of its personality kernel, but Garret had always felt the reconstituted system had lost something. He tended to use it far less frequently than he once had.
“Admiral Garret, we’re getting a transmission from Admiral Jacobs on Indianapolis.” The remains of Scouting Fleet had been pulling back toward the X1 warp gate. Jacobs had wanted to rejoin the main fleet, but Compton ordered him to withdraw instead. His force had the highest casualty rate of any formation in the campaign, and Compton wasn’t going to ask any more of his men and women…unless he had no choice. They’d done their part.
“Very well, Commander Rourke.” Garret’s voice was still vaguely distracted; he’d been reviewing the latest message from Hofstader in X1. But his focus snapped back instantly. “On my com, commander.”
Garret listened to the message, and Rourke could tell from his expression it wasn’t good news. He turned his head toward his workstation screen and pulled up the system map.
“Commander, bring the fleet to Condition Yellow. All ships are to prepare for maximum thrust within 15 minutes.” He looked back down at the workstation for a few seconds then lifted his head, flipping on his com as he did. “Attention all personnel. Admiral Jacobs is reporting enemy forces inbound from the X4 warp gate. The First Imperium force is inbound at 0.08c and decelerating rapidly. We will be moving to meet them. I know each of you will do you very best…as you always have. Garret out.”
He turned to Rourke. “Advise all captains to perform a complete program of weapons diagnostics and to prepare a full spread of x-ray laser buoys for deployment. All battleships are to perform pre-flight checks and hold all bomber squadrons at Status Yellow.”
“Yes, sir.” She’d turned to her workstation and started forwarding Garret’s orders as he was still firing them off. “Admiral…” She turned back toward Garret. “I have Admiral Compton’s message incoming. Forward it to your com, sir?”
“Yes, commander. By all means.” Then softer, a whisper to himself. “Let’s see what Terrance has to say. I haven’t spoken with him since he grabbed half my fleet and took off.” There was a tiny smile on his face. He was looking forward to seeing his old friend once the fight here was over.
“Motherfucker.” Compton immediately realized his voice had been a lot louder than intended. Fucking Cleret, he thought, making certain to keep it to himself this time. Not a Goddamned message from X4…not a drone, not a ship returning. Nothing…except enemy forces transiting into the system.
Mike Jacobs warned me, he thought bitterly…he told me Cleret couldn’t be trusted. The diplomacy we need to keep the Pact together may end up being the reason we lose this war, he thought.
Compton had just listened to Jacobs’ message. He knew Scouting Fleet’s commander would have advised Garret as well. Indianapolis and the battered remnants of the advance force were roughly equidistant between the two main Pact fleets. There wasn’t a question in his mind that Augustus Garret was already moving to fight the new arrivals. He was going to do the same. The First Imperium forces would be sandwiched between his and Garret’s forces. For once we’ve got the advantage, he thought with grim satisfaction.
Augustus should have my confirmation by now. He’d gotten Garret’s message a couple hours before. He’d had to read it four times before it sunk in. The possibility of disrupting a warp gate seemed impossible, unreal. But if Friederich Hofstader said it could be done, that was enough for Compton. He knew there were a lot of uncertainties, but it was hard not to get excited. If Hofstader was right, all they had to do was defeat this new force, and both fleets could withdraw, blowing the gate behind them. The First Imperium would be cut off from human space. The war would be over…not won, exactly, but survival seemed as good as victory considering the circumstances.
Max Harmon’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Admiral Compton, we have vessels transiting through the X3 warp gate.” A pause. “Three ships, working on IDs now.” He snapped his head toward Compton. “It’s Captain Mondragon, sir. Incoming message.” He forwarded the transmission to Compton’s com without asking.
“Admiral Compton, Captain Mondragon reporting.” He sounded haggard, out of breath. “I have to report another enemy task force approaching the warp gate roughly 15 minutes behind us. Approximately 20 Gargoyles.”
“Understood, Francisco.” Fuck, Compton thought. He knew his ships could never outrun a First Imperium fleet, and he wasn’t about to let these enemy ships end up on his rear. We’ll have to stand here and engage that force, he thought…Augustus will have to handle the X4 fleet himself.
“Captain, maintain velocity and rejoin Scouting Fleet. Once you are there, advise Admiral Jacobs that the combined force is to withdraw toward the X1 warp gate.” Mondragon’s 3 survivors all had damage. His battered force had already done their part, and they had nothing left to give. Compton was impressed with the Europan captain, especially considering everything Jacobs had already told him. He was damned sure going to pin a few medals on Mondragon and Jacobs. If they both survived, that is.
“Yes, Admiral Compton.” Mondragon’s reply sounded sharp, but he couldn’t hide his fatigue. “Mondragon out.”
Compton turned toward Harmon’s station. “OK, Commodore Harmon. We don’t have much time.” He was glad he’d brought up the transports and rearmed the fleet right after the last battle. He’d hate to face any First Imperium force with only his standard lasers. “I want all ships ready to deploy laser buoys in five minutes.” It wasn’t enough time…Compton knew that. He also knew it was going to have to be…that was all they had.
Francisco Mondragon looked like hell. Most of his taskforce was gone, and the survivors had been trapped deep in the X3 system. They’d tried to hide for a while, but when new forces moved into the system bound for the X2 gate, he knew he had to get word to Compton. He tried to launch a spread of drones – his last – but none of them got through. So he buttoned his people in the couches, fired up the reactors to 120%, and made a run for the gate. He started with 8 ships…3 made it.
He wasn’t sure if any of his other ships had survived. He’d scattered the task force, giving each captain orders to hide in the deep outer system. He’d reassembled everyone he could find, but it was possible there were others out there somewhere, now trapped behind the lines. There was nothing he could do about that, not now. All he could do at the moment was follow orders and rejoin the remnants of Jacobs’ fleet.
He’d gotten through the warp gate just ahead of the enemy task force, but before his ships transited he picked up some intermittent contacts from probes deeper in the system. He couldn’t be sure, but his gut told him there were more enemy ships behind the ones transiting now. He had no idea if the contact was real…or how large a force might be there. But he’d reported all he knew to Compton. It was the fleet admiral’s problem now, he thought. There wasn’t much Mondragon could do with 3 battered suicide boats.
“Captain, I’ve got Admiral Jacobs on the com.” Carp sounded as tired as Mondragon felt.
“Put it thr
ough, commander.” Mondragon put his earpiece in. It made his earlobe sore if he left it in for too long, so he tended to remove it from time to time.
“Captain Mondragon, you have done an outstanding job, and I know what you and your people have been through.” Jacobs sounded exhausted too. All of Scouting Fleet had earned its pay…no one could doubt that. All except Pierre Cleret, whom Jacobs fully intended to stand in front of a firing squad if, through some miracle he made it back.
“We’ve been ordered to reposition to the captured enemy vessel and provide any support General Sparks may require. I am sending you revised coordinates. Revector your approach and join us there as soon as you are able. Jacobs out.”
Mondragon looked over at Tomasino. “Confirm receipt of orders, lieutenant.” Jacobs’ ships were still almost 30 light minutes away, much too far to allow for a normal verbal exchange. “And forward incoming coordinates to the other ships. We will be executing course change in five minutes.”
Camille Harmon sat in her command chair, leaning heavily to her left, trying, as always, to get comfortable. Ever since she’d been shot on her own bridge in an Alliance Intelligence assassination attempt, the pain in her back had been constant. The med team pulled her through, though she’d come very close to not making it. But they hadn’t been able to regenerate everything the explosive bullet had destroyed. Her spine was a combination of regrown organic tissue and machinery. It worked well, but it hurt like hell most of the time. It was the integration of the mechanical parts with her central nervous system, they told her. The painkillers made it bearable, more or less. They’d offered her stronger meds, but she wouldn’t take anything that might impair her judgment. She preferred to put up with the pain than allow that.
“The taskforce is in position, admiral.” Clyde Dawes had proven to be an excellent tactical officer for her. He’d been a bomber pilot, one of the best. But his vessel had suffered a critical malfunction in a training mission. He’d brought the crippled bomber in for a hard landing, but he’d lost his arm in the crash. At the hospital they found a genetic anomaly, a rare disorder that precluded regeneration or even sophisticated nerve graft prosthetics.
Harmon wasn’t sure whether she’d picked Dawes for his record or because she sympathized with another broken toy. But whatever the motivation, it had proven to be the right choice. Even with a mechanical arm 150 years out of date, Clyde Dawes was one hell of a capable officer.
“Very well, commander.” Garret had divided his fleet into two waves and put Harmon in charge of the forward units. Her orders had been to advance, drop a line of laser buoys, then pull back and prepare to launch fighters. Garret was doing the same, 500,000 kilometers back. They were creating a deep layered defense. The enemy would be under constant attack as they advanced. “Advise Commodore Kessel that I will be issuing the launch order in five minutes.” Garret had kept Captain Al’Sabat to command his wings, giving Harmon the CEL’s top pilot to lead hers. The crews were already on alert, manning their ships and waiting for the order to go.
“Yes, admiral.” There was a short pause then: “Commodore Kessel reports all squadrons ready to launch.”
She glanced down at the tactical screen. My God, she thought…Garret really is a genius. Harmon was considered an excellent tactician, but Augustus Garret in an admiral’s chair was like Mozart at a keyboard. There was a natural comprehension, a visualization that others lacked…that they could never understand. Genius was an overused word, but it was the only way to describe Garret.
The enemy would enter the range of her laser buoys in about fifteen minutes. Then Kessel’s fighters would go in…just before the enemy hit Garret’s line of x-ray lasers. By the time the First Imperium ships had gotten through Garret’s fighters, and both force’s missile barrages, Compton’s fleet would be hitting them from the rear with its own fighters and missiles. If everything went according to plan, they would never have to withstand the enemy particle accelerators. There wouldn’t be a First Imperium ship left to fire one.
Still, something was troubling her. When, she thought to herself, was the last time you saw anything go according to plan?
“Sir, Commodore Al’Sabat is requesting permission to launch another sortie. His ships will be rearmed and ready in ten minutes.” Rourke had really proven herself to Garret. She’d been a rock during the battle, one of the best tactical officers he’d ever had. A fitting replacement for Max Harmon.
Garret was still distracted. He’d had a scare a few minutes before when Harmon’s flagship was blasted with radiation from an antimatter warhead...one that had come way too close. Yorktown had taken considerable damage, but she was still in the fight…and Camille Harmon was still in her command chair.
Garret frowned. He hated sending Al’Sabat’s people right back out there. He hadn’t expected it to be necessary. But then he’d planned on Compton hitting the enemy rear by now…instead of being stuck out at the X3 warp gate fighting yet another enemy task force. “Authorize the commodore to prep another attack.” He glanced at the tactical display. “And prepare the fleet to pull back 500,000 kilometers.”
It was a clear choice. Send the fighters in or expose the capital ships to a lopsided energy weapons duel. Garret felt bad, but the cold truth was the squadrons were more expendable than the battleships. The bomber crews knew that better than anyone.
“Order Admiral Harmon to launch a second sortie with her fighter wings as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garret stared at the display. His forces had done well so far. The enemy was badly battered. Even without Compton’s fleet, he knew he could probably take them out before they closed and raked his ships with particle accelerator fire. It would cost him in fighters and missiles, but he knew it was the right choice.
“Admiral Harmon has already launched a second attack, sir.”
Garret smiled. He’d known Camille Harmon for a long time, ever since she was a captain commanding one of the ships of his task force. She had a reputation as a savage fighter, one he knew was well deserved.
Now, he thought, let’s see if we can finish this…then Terry’s people can get back here and we can get the hell out of this system…and blow that damned warp gate behind us.
“Launch bombers.”
Chapter 32
Bridge – AS Midway
System X2
1,500,000 Kilometers from X3 Gate
“Joker, give me another stim.” Terrance Compton sat quietly in his command chair, trying to fight the urge to slump forward. “Make it a double dose.”
He felt the injection, as his AI instructed the med system to give him the stimulants he’d requested. Joker would normally have at least reminded the admiral that he was well over the safe dosage, but now wasn’t the time. Compton was under enormous pressure, and Joker understood that and acted accordingly.
“Max, get those transport shuttles launched. I want the laser buoys loaded first. We don’t have much time.” Fatigue was wearing away formality.
The fleet had destroyed the Gargoyles, but his ships had drawn heavily on their ordnance to do it. The support task force had reloads, but it took time to transfer to the warships. Time they didn’t have.
“Yes, sir.” Harmon had already been coordinating the rearming. He was as tired as Compton, his mind fighting hard to drive away the cloudiness. He’d just taken his own dose of stims. Without them he wouldn’t have been able to stay sharp…and now was no time to let efficiency slide.
“And I want every ship ready for full thrust in 60 minutes.” There was a sharp edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I need no-bullshit assessments. Any ship that can’t be ready is to be evacuated.”
“Yes, sir.” Harmon had already advised all ship captains that they were to abandon ship if they couldn’t be ready for 30g thrust on time. But he knew someone would inevitably overestimate what could be repaired in an hour. He wondered if Compton would make good on his threat to leave them behind.
Gr
and Fleet was bugging out. Once everyone had transited into X1, Hofstader would blow the warp gate…and if his theories held, disable the thing for at least a few centuries. The war would be effectively over, with no known route remaining between human and First Imperium space.
It would take about 44 hours for Compton’s fleet to reach X1 and transit. In two days the war would be over. At least that was the plan.
“Sir, we’re receiving orders from Admiral Garret.” Harmon was reading from his display. “He is confirming our scheduled course and timing.”
Way ahead of you, Augustus, Compton thought, a tiny smile on his face…no one wants to get out of here more than me. “Confirm that we will begin initiated thrust plan as scheduled.”
“Signal dispatched, admiral.” Harmon’s eyes were focused on his screens. “First wave of supply shuttles launched.”
“The first wave is going to be the only one, I’m afraid. I want those laser buoys offloaded and secured in half an hour, I don’t care if it takes every man and woman on those ships to do it.” He wanted his fleet as ready for action as possible…but nothing was stopping them from blasting for the X1 warp gate in an hour. He looked at the chronometer. No, 58 minutes.
“What the hell is that?” Mike Jacobs stared at his screen in horror. “Is this some sort of malfunction?” It had already been a nightmare. He’d been watching First Imperium ships exit the X4 warp gate for the last 20 minutes...hundreds of them. But this…this was like nothing he’d ever seen before.