Horizons

by Donald B McFarlane

  “Sir!” Confidence was back in the cadet's voice.

  “Ion cannons charged. Missile batteries loaded. All medium and light lasers heated up. Sentinels are all in their hull fighting positions, and the flight team reports ready for launch.”

  “Excellent.” The Ship Master sat back down. “Range to enemy fleet?”

  “80 million kilometres, closing fast.”

  “Perfect.” Hovarex tapped his comms unit again. “Engineering.”

  “Go.”

  “Can we please have the reactor at full? Don’t want to leave anything in the tank.” Hovarex joked.

  The Master Engineer replied quickly. “You’ll have everything she’s got.”

  “Thank you.” Looking down he tapped a few keys on his command chair and brought up a three-dimensional rendering of the enemy forces. The ten ships were moving towards Earth in a wedge formation with a destroyer in the lead, followed by four frigates in supporting positions. A heavy cruiser was at the centre of the central wedge, followed closely by a carrier. Trailing the main attack force was another destroyer which was protecting a tanker and the Keeper ship, which was jamming all communications and the ability for any ship to jump in the system.

  “Master Star Pilot. Assessment?”

  “Target the lead ship first, then rotate under them, and attempt to get to the Keeper.”

  Hovarex nodded. A sound plan.”

  “Range to lead destroyer?”

  “52 million, Sir.”

  “Increase speed to flank.” Hovarex paused and smiled as he heard a slight shudder as the ship's engine kicked into high gear. “At one million kilometres commence firing of the long-range missile battery. First four missiles target the lead destroyer, then two rockets each to the lead frigates, then two missiles to the heavy cruiser.” The shots at the cruiser were more to agitate them than anything else, but the first four at the lead destroyer would cause severe damage.

  “Sir, the enemy has increased speed. Expect to be within weapons range in two minutes.”

  “Thank you. Target the heavy cruiser with the ion cannons once it is in range.” Hovarex leant back a little in the command chair and watched as the red dots grew closer on the main bridge display.

  “Missiles away!” The young cadet had to shout over the roar from the missile battery as it unleashed its ten missiles in quick succession. “Heavy cruiser in range.”

  “Fire!” The order was followed up by the Ship Masters next move. “Star Pilot, execute your manoeuvre!”

  As soon as the two ion cannon had fired off its deadly rounds at the heavy cruiser, the hulky Pride started to rotate its rear down, while keeping its nose pointing at the oncoming formation.

  “They’re scattering!” Came a warning.

  Hovarex looked at the 3D image and realised that the enemy fleet commander had anticipated his move.

  “Sir, the ions missed the enemy ship.”

  “Very well.” He focused back to the main view screen. “Star Pilot, shortest distance attack on the Keeper.” Horvarex snapped his head to his left, “launch the fighters.” Then back to his right. “All weapons, weapons free. Sentinels to engage as targets become available!”

  While his plan to avoid a full frontal assault had been thwarted, he knew that success for the 73rd meant destroying the Keeper at all costs.

  “Sir, the carrier is turning towards Terra with two frigates in support.”

  “Understood.”

  “Lead destroyer is dead in space. The two leading frigates are burning, but returning fire.”

  “Time until ion cannon is recharged?”

  “6O seconds.”

  Suddenly a powerful impact struck the Pride, shearing the ships right front pontoon off, and with it half its firepower, and a quarter of its Sentinels.

  Looking up at the view screen, Hovarex could see that the enemy cruiser had taken a position directly above the ship, while the two wounded frigates were finally getting into the fight.

  “Sir, the remaining destroyer has turned towards us, and tanker and Keeper are turning away from us.”

  “Where are our friendly forces?”

  “RG 27 is on a course to our position. RG 31 is moving off Terran orbit to intercept the carrier and two frigates. Our carrier is moving to a Terran orbit with RG 25, and The Rock of Cromarden is moving at top speed towards our position.”

  Hovarex shook his head. He knew that he was on his own.

  Another blast hit the ship, followed by half a dozen more. The lights started to flicker inside the bridge, and smoke began pouring in from ventilation ports along the ceiling.

  “Order the fighters to go after the Keeper!”

  “Ion cannon back online!”

  “Angle us for a shot on the closest enemy ship!”

  “Frigate off our rear port.”

  “Spin us around and take the shot.”

  For a big ship that was starting to have systems failures, The Pride of Floxis still handled well, and the ship quickly spun counterclockwise and brought the already damaged frigate into view. “Fire when ready!”

  The single functioning ion cannon let rip a bright purple ball of energy that raced towards the enemy frigate, catching it thirty metres behind the nose, shearing the entire front portion of the ship off.

  Unfortunately, the combined weight of the remaining frigate, plus the heavy cruiser and the new destroyer were going to be too much for the heavily damaged warship to handle.

  Another salvo of fire hit the remaining front pontoon, but instead of shearing off, the entire section exploded, vaporising anything and anyone in that part of the ship, and sent a chunk of debris into the left energy manifold.

  “We’re losing power to the engines!” the Star Pilot shouted over the wailing claxon that was ringing.

  “Distance to closest enemy ship?”

  Hovarex looked to his left where the detection technician station was. The seat was still occupied by a torso and a pair of legs, but nothing else. A panel had come clean from the ceiling and dropped a crossbeam on the unsuspecting cadet.

  “Weapons?” Hovarex spun his head to his right and was confronted by the young female cadet who was standing only a metre away from his command chair. Her handless arms were held out to the Ship Master with a confused look on her face.

  Before he could say anything, a concentrated barrage of missile and energy beam fire hit the front view screen blowing a massive hole into space. The vacuum ripped the cadet away instantly and sent her body into the darkness of space. Anything that wasn’t strapped down on the bridge was sucked out into the nothingness.

  Knowing that the only chance of survival for his crew now lay in their fleeing, Hovarex triggered the abandon ship message.

  His eyes started to grow heavy as the air was sucked out of the bridge. As he tried to fight off the drowsy sensation that was overwhelming his body, he heard the ship's computer announce that escape pods were being discharged from the ship.

  At least some of them would survive. A small smile crept onto his face as he lost consciousness for the last time.

  Five seconds later a final burst of heavy laser weapons pounded the ship, splitting her in two. Another five seconds later her reactor went critical, and detonated, sending the remains of the ship flying apart at high speed, and towards one of the damaged frigates that had gotten too close to finish off its prey. One of the sections of debris was large enough and hit the frigates precariously designed bridge with enough force to wreck it completely.

  Out of a crew of nearly 220 members, a fortunate 52 survived, and now those had to await a rescue that might never come.

  15

  While the battle in the stars was raging fiercely, Joe was trying to grasp what was actually happening. Like any good soldier, he knew that communications in combat were critical to success. Being able to coordinate with friendly forces could easily mean the difference between victory and defeat. The warship packed with cadets had managed to destroy three of the approaching
enemy vessels, but Joe was acutely aware that even if the numbers of warships was now on the allied side, those ships were probably much older and less capable than the ships the Coalition were fielding.

  A broadcast came over the ship's intercom relaying the inevitable bad news. “The Spirit of Floxis has been destroyed. RG 31 is moving away from Terra to engage enemy forces.” The notice ended.

  Joe looked back down at the map of the system that was displayed in front of him. With RG 31 moving off to intercept the enemy, that left RG 25 and the light carrier as the only close protection Earth had. The Rock of Cromarden was still too far away to contribute to the fight, and the fourth destroyer, RG 27 was near Mercury and was not in a position to assist RG 31 with their attack on the first element.

  “Dinalis, what do you make of our situation?”

  The Floxian looked up to the human, then back down to the map. “If this data is accurate,” He pointed at the red dots closest to Earth. “Then RG 31 is going to be outmatched by these forces here. Two frigates, a heavy cruiser and a carrier, will be too much for them to handle.” He scanned the map again. “The Rock is coming from near Saturn, at maximum speed. If the commander of RG 27 knows what they’re doing, then he should make a move for this other group here.” He pointed at the second enemy element, made up of one destroyer, the tanker and the Keeper. “And attempt to destroy the Keeper ship. If he can do that, then there is a chance for us yet.”

  Joe looked back down at the screen and shook his head. If the Coalition were able to get control of Earth’s orbit, and jam any signals from the PCS to their command, then the Coalition could cement their control of the system before Alliance forces would even think to send reinforcements.

  16

  RG 31 was not the oldest ship attached to the 73rd, nor did it have the least experienced crew in the squadron either, but it was unique in many ways. It’s one essential trait that separated it from the rest of the ships was its commander, a Trorrakian, in fact, the Star Master of the RG 31 was the only one of its kind to hold that position in the entire Alliance, and for an excellent reason: the Trorrakian’s had two heads on their bodies, with two different personalities, making them completely incompatible for many roles in society.

  “Two frigates at two million kilometres. Hostile cruiser at two-point-five. Enemy carrier at three million.” The ships detection technician reported.

  “Excellent.” Responded the head on the left.

  “Very well.” Came the response from the right.

  The head on the right, sporting a long beard looked to his right at the weapons station. “Prepare maglev cannon and heavy lasers when the first enemy ship is in range. Concentrate on the vessel on our starboard side.”

  “Are you sure that is a good idea?” Asked the clean-shaven head on the left.

  “I am very confident.”

  “Excellent.” Replied the head on the left. He, in turn, looked to his left, “Status of communications?”

  “Still offline, Sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Within range of the starboard frigate in ten seconds.”

  “Gunner, prepare to fire when they are within range.”

  “Yes, Sir.” A pause followed. “Maglev firing! Heavy lasers firing!”

  The 73rd, like the rest of the Reach Guard Garrison Squadrons, was a hodgepodge of ships that had been scrapped together to form a unit. RG 31’s unique design offered it plenty of firepower at great distances but was under-equipped to handle a close-in brawl.

  “Begin to axis us toward the starboard hostile and maintain distance!” Ordered the head on the left.

  His plan was to keep the enemies flanks to his front while pummelling them from long range.

  “How long until my second salvo from the maglev?” Demanded the head on the right.

  The maglev cannon mounted on the top of the engine compartment was one of few left in service. Most ships relied on energy based weapons systems or missiles. The maglev cannon was able to fire an armour piercing round, which was undetectable to the enemy at one-quarter light speed. Only the heaviest armour could withstand more than a single shot, but the rounds themselves were so large that they required two minutes to reload.

  “Another minute, Sir.”

  “Very well. Continue engaging with the heavy lasers.” The head on the right turned left and looked at his other face. “Mind our distance.”

  The head on the left swivelled until the two faces were almost close enough to touch. “You mind your own damn business.” He directed his eyes downward. “And shave that beard. It itches my neck.”

  “Incoming missile fire.” Reported the dec-tech.

  “Make sure we are bow on for impact.” Ordered the head on the left.

  “Sir!” came the reply from the star pilot.

  The bridge shuddered hard under the impact of the missiles. The 31 was designed with a large, oval-shaped front compartment with the bridge and living quarters. Attaching it to the rear engineering compartments where the majority of the ship's weapons were located was a long umbilical that was the key vulnerability in the design of the ship.

  “Damage report?” The head on the right yelled. The bow jumped sharply from the subsequent impact of missiles.

  “Maglev firing!”

  A faint pop could be heard on the bridge emanating from the barrel of the cannon, strapped on the back of the ship.

  When the 40-metre long gun fired, a three thousand kilogramme tungsten shell was propelled out of the tube by a mini-engine powered by a micro-fusion reactor, pushing the huge slug up to 95 million metres per second, allowing the round to impact on target almost instantly.

  Cutting through space, the huge round slammed into the rear of the enemy frigate, breached the first layer of armour with the same ease that it had passing through space, entered the engine compartment, and carried on through the other side of the ship. The speed at which the round impacted meant that nothing inside the compartment knew what happened when the shell conducted such a strong vacuum that everything and everyone was sucked out to space. Two seconds later the ships anti-matter containment field collapsed, and the ship exploded taking its entire crew with it.

  “Frigate destroyed.” Reported the Dec-Tec.

  There was a pause on the bridge while everyone gathered their focus, and their composure, but whatever joy may have been in the air, was quickly dampened.

  “Enemy fighters at one thousand meters!” came the next report from the Dec-Tec.

  “Where?” demanded the head on the left.

  “Engage with short-range missile batteries!” ordered the head on the right.

  The warning had come too late for anyone to act.

  A pair of long-range fighters, which were providing flank security for the Coalition forces had snuck up on the 31 when it had begun flanking the two frigates and the carrier. The duo opened fire at close range, battering the engines, then moved along the length of the ship, one above, the other below, shooting at any target they could see.

  While the fighters should not have posed a threat in a conventional setting, their close range attack was devastating, in particular on the engines, which were not able to take much more than light laser blasts.

  “I’m losing thrust!” shouted the star pilot.

  “Sir, enemy ships are manoeuvring out of our firing arch, and are continuing towards Terra.” Reported the Dec-Tec.

  “Damage report!” Demanded the head on the left.

  “Engineering is reporting a shutdown on both engines. There are hull breaches in section one, five, and seven, but the ships integrity is secure.” Came the report from one of the engineering stations on the bridge.

  “Where are those enemy fighters?” Asked the head on the right.

  “They’ve moved off towards Terra, Sir.”

  Simultaneously both heads looked down at the deck of the bridge. They should have performed better, and they knew it. They also knew the RG 25 didn’t have the long-range capabilities
that their ship did, and would be less well equipped to deal with a fresh frigate, a heavy cruiser and a fully loaded carrier. They didn’t even want to think about the destroyer that was trailing the lead pack.

  The battle was going to be over soon unless The Rock was able to get into the fight.

  17

  “Other than the top two turrets you’ve shown me, what other defences do we have?” Joe asked, a concerned look was visible on his usually calm face. This battle was reminding him of the helpless feeling he had when he was about to land in Lima months ago.

  “That’s it. We have a ten Light Sentinels and some weapons to arm the crew. Nothing heavier than the cannons on the top of the ship.”

  Joe looked back down at the tactical situation. There were still three enemy ships bearing down on Earth, with another three ships trailing.

  “Tell me, what does that carrier actually carry?” he asked

  “Depending on the model and configuration, up to one thousand drones, and maybe one hundred manned fighter-ships.”

  Joe looked at a datapad that was on the table, scanning for the information on the light carrier that was part of the 73rd. Finding the ship, he quickly scanned for the details on its weapons and compliment. The number he found did not fill him with confidence, 200 drones. And that was it.

  “I need to make a call.”

  Joe felt dizzy as he moved away from the table, and took a seat, sinking into it with a dull thud. He looked around himself and noticed Ji-woon talking at the end of the table with one of the crew members, while Sarah Chan was busy organising a film crew to come to the ship to shoot from the top of the craft in the event of an attack.

  Without thinking about it, Joe pulled out his satellite phone and hit the button for the White House.

  “Mr President, are you receiving all the telemetry from here?” Joe listened to the concerned reply. “Then you need to contact everyone and have them put their air forces on alert. I mean everyone and everything they have.” Joe looked around and noticed that Rhea wasn’t in view. “And Mr President, make sure that we have sufficient cover here.” Joe ended the call and stood up, but he still couldn’t see Rhea. He actually wasn’t sure the last time he saw her.