Haven Ascendant

by Robert M Kerns

  “Okay. So, what has you thinking about men not dying well? That’s kind of sexist, by the way. Women are just as capable of not dying well, too, you know.”

  “Not back when the play was written,” Cole replied. “It wasn’t until the mid-2000’s—somewhere between 2000 and 2050—that women started being accepted in actual combat units across most militaries, and the play was already centuries old by then.”

  “All right. You’ve dodged my question very well and for long enough. What has you contemplating people not dying well?”

  Cole took a deep breath and heaved it out as a sigh. “There are five dreadnoughts and fifteen more cruisers in the system now. Trask thinks we should bug out like we were never here.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think, if we bug out, one more person is going to lose a parent far sooner than they should. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but I know—not just think, know—we can pull this off. We can rescue the Duke and his people scheduled for execution. But at what cost? And is this cause just and good?”

  All at once, Sasha knew the source of the doubt that plagued Cole. She knew it as certainly as she knew her own name.

  “You’ve never lost anyone in combat, have you? You’ve never been in a situation where people under your command died because they were following your orders.”

  Cole shook his head. “No matter what I do, people who shouldn’t are going to die.”

  “Haven,” Sasha said, “turn off all visual feeds.”

  The holograms disappeared, and Sasha walked around to look Cole right in his eyes.

  “Cole, you need to understand something, and you need to make it a part of you. The sooner, the better. People will die because of orders you give. You’ve been uncannily lucky so far, but it’s not a question of ‘if.’”

  “It’s a question of ‘when.’”

  Sasha nodded, continuing, “Exactly, and you can’t be the captain and leader everyone needs you to be until you come to terms with that. Now, I’m not saying forget about them or that their deaths don’t matter. I’ve lost people under my command, and I still remember their names…every single one. And yes…I have moments where I wonder if I did everything I could’ve done, and so will you. And you’re going to make mistakes. You might as well accept that right now, too.” Sasha heaved a sigh. “In the long run, there are just two things you can do: first, do everything you can to make sure the cause your people fight and die for is just, honorable, and good; second, do everything you can to ensure you never make the same mistake twice. So…you tell me this, Cole; is saving the lives of those nine people a good cause, a worthy cause?”

  “It is to me,” Cole answered.

  “Then, where you lead, we will follow.”

  Cole saw the truth of her words in Sasha’s expression. He held her gaze for quite some time before he nodded.

  “Okay,” Cole said at last. “Let’s do this.”

  Admiral Trask led his chief of staff and tactical officer into the bridge briefing room and found Cole, Sasha, Harlon, Emily, Mazzi, and Garrett waiting. A hologram looking similar to the tactical or flag plots hovered above the conference table. When Trask didn’t move after a brief moment, Cole invited him to sit with a gesture.

  Trask stepped to the table and chose a seat, his officers following him. As he sat, he scanned the faces around the table and knew what he was about to hear.

  “You want to go ahead with the op,” Trask said, making it a statement instead of a question.

  Cole nodded. “I can’t shake the conclusion that it is the right thing to do. I understand everything you said on the flag bridge, Admiral; I truly do. But I believe the chance to extract the Duke and his people is worth the risks we’ll have to take.”

  “And are you prepared for the casualties we’ll probably take making the attempt?” Trask asked.

  “No…probably not,” Cole answered, “but I won’t come apart on you during the op. That much, I can promise you.”

  Trask held Cole’s gaze in silence for almost a full minute before he scanned the other faces arrayed around the conference table. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded once and said, “Then let’s plan this out.”

  Over the next few hours, they developed a strategy everyone in the briefing room believed offered the best chances for success. It was based on Cole’s suggestion of blitzing into missile range and lobbing shots into the Coalition fleet to serve as a distraction for the fighters and assault shuttles being launched under full stealth. Once the assault shuttles were close enough, Srexx would use them as a relay to attack the planet’s sensor grid. The stealthed scout frigate was already moving into a position where Srexx could use its quantum comms to hack Coalition Alpha for any information he could glean. The fighters escorting the assault shuttles would carry armaments for both air-to-air and air-to-surface engagements, and Emily would finally have the opportunity to use her bombers in a missile defense role.

  “Oh,” Cole said, “here’s a thought.”

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “What if we arrange some of our ships in a hemisphere under full stealth? The Coalition forces wouldn’t be able to see them, and they’d charge Haven. Once they were in the trap, the extended ships would drop stealth and attack the Coalition’s flanks.”

  Trask’s tactical officer quirked an eyebrow. “Battle of Cannae?”

  Cole shrugged. “It’s an idea.”

  “Under the proper circumstances,” Trask replied, as he looked at the plot, “it could work. But I think we’re going to have enough of a fight on our hands as it is.”

  Cole nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Trask broke into a grin. “I’ve always wanted to try it, too…just never found the right circumstances outside of a wargame.”

  “Oh, you tried it in a wargame?” Cole asked.

  Trask nodded.

  “Then we don’t want to try it here,” Cole countered. “We have to assume they have those records from the Commonwealth Navy.”

  “Ah, yes,” Trask agreed. “I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps Sato would’ve been a better flag officer for this mission.”

  Cole made a dismissive wave. “That ship has sailed. Let’s do the best we can with what we have.”

  After a little more discussion, they concluded their formulations and distributed a maneuvering plan to the fleet. Moments later, the ships engaged their sublight engines, ramping up to ninety-seven-percent of light-speed. They’d need just a little over nine hours and twenty minutes to reach their extreme missile range.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Musilar System

  30 January 3004, 22:37 GST

  The fleet was at battle-stations. TacNet connected the tactical systems of the fleet. The extraction teams traveled to Musilar Prime, under max stealth. All of Haven’s bombers led the fleet, loaded for missile defense. The Coalition fleet was coming out to meet them, including Coalition Alpha. The stealthed scout frigate trailed the fleet, providing Srexx a relay through which to peruse the datanet of Coalition Alpha.

  “The lead elements of the Coalition fleet are within missile range,” Mazzi announced.

  “Message from Admiral Trask,” Jenkins at Comms reported. “He says, ‘We go on your order.’”

  Cole nodded. “Mazzi, missiles and torpedoes…fire.”

  One-hundred-three missiles and seventeen torpedoes from Haven soon became over two thousand missiles and fifty torpedoes, as the rest of the fleet launched. Cole watched the cloud of dots move toward the oncoming ships and waited.

  “All launchers reloaded,” Mazzi reported. “Next target group selected.”

  “Fire,” Cole replied.

  The cycle repeated until five barrages were in flight. Like Epsilon Anubis, Cole wanted to see what the effect was before he sent more. Cole was watching the tactical plot when a veritable fog of dots appeared around the Coalition fleet.

  “Missile launch!” Mazzi announced. “Twelve thousand—repea
t: one-two-zero-zero-zero—birds inbound! Flight time estimated at twenty minutes.”

  “Quantity is a quality all its own,” Cole muttered as he watched the dots representing the Coalition missiles move beyond the Coalition lines on the tactical plot.

  “Fleet-wide orders from the flag,” Jenkins reported. “Coordinate missile defense through TacNet.”

  Cole chuckled. “Well, of course. That’s half its purpose.”

  “Was that a reply, Cap?” Jenkins asked.

  Cole swiveled and found the senior comms officer grinning unrepentantly. Cole gave him a mock glare and swiveled back to the tactical plot.

  By now, their opening salvoes started eating into the Coalition fleet. Frigates and destroyers fell by the wayside, if they weren’t destroyed outright, and their formation was starting to develop a concave depression on its forward edge.

  “Jenkins, my compliments to Admiral Trask, if you please; ask him to signal the fleet for another five missile barrages, targeting the same area but ships deeper into the formation this time,” Cole said.

  Jenkins replied, “Aye, Cap! Reply from the admiral: I’ve never had my flag captain sign my paychecks before.”

  Cole laughed.

  “Orders going out fleet-wide, Cap,” Jenkins continued. “Five more missile barrages, same area targeted but ships deeper into the formation; Haven leads.”

  “Ready, sir,” Mazzi reported.

  “Fire,” Cole said.

  Cole’s fleet cycled four more launches before the Coalition missiles reached interception range.

  “Bombers launching interceptors,” Flight Ops reported.

  Cole watched the count of incoming missiles drop as the bomber-fired interceptors did their jobs. One of the Coalition missiles took a near-miss that damaged its guidance and target-acquisition platform; it curly-cued for several seconds before nose-diving onto one of the bombers. Both the damaged missile and the bomber vanished into a cloud of expanding particles.

  “Bomber Bravo-Two down!” Flight Ops reported. “All remaining bombers reporting dry launchers.”

  “Bring them back for reloads,” Cole said.

  “Interceptors launching,” Mazzi reported, and Cole watched the count of incoming missiles start dropping again. Then, she said, “Point-defense batteries firing.”

  It wasn’t enough.

  All along his fleet’s line, missiles detonated against shields. Some ships took enough missiles that their forward shields failed. Cole zoomed in on the tactical plot, watching the icons for his ships flash amber. The icons remained a solid amber if the ship it represented took actual damage and not just against the shields, and several of the icons for his ships were solid amber now.

  Cole looked at Haven’s stats in the upper-right corner of the tactical plot. Outer shield layer at seventy percent. Shield Layer Two at ninety percent. No physical damage, and only one bomber lost.

  More dots appeared on the tactical plot around the Coalition fleet.

  “Missile launch!” Mazzi announced. “Eight thousand—repeat: eight-zero-zero-zero—birds inbound. Flight time approximately fifteen minutes.”

  “Srexx,” Cole said, “how are you and the computer aboard Coalition Alpha getting along?”

  “Very well, Cole,” Srexx replied via the bridge’s overhead speakers. “Is there any specific data you prefer I prioritize?”

  “Yes, please,” Cole answered. “Get the navigation logs. I want to know where the Coalition capital is.”

  “I shall focus on that data at once,” Srexx agreed.

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  As the Coalition missiles closed in on Cole’s fleet, Cole watched his fleet’s missiles reach their targets. More Coalition ships flickered and dropped off the tactical plot, and the formation that had once been almost a globe now looked very much like a skull with vampire fangs. The tail of the last barrage chipped away at a couple of cruisers, and Cole was debating his next recommendation for targeting when the Coalition missiles arrived.

  “Point-defense batteries firing!” Mazzi announced.

  Cole glanced at the plot and watched missiles vanish in puffs of pixelation. Then, the icons for his ships started flickering as the remaining missiles pounded their targets. These Gyv’Rathi ships could take a beating, though, and still be combat-capable. Whether unlucky or just in the wrong place, one destroyer took the brunt of more than its fair share of missiles, and Cole watched its icon flicker between amber and red.

  “The destroyer Argyle reports it is launching life pods,” Jenkins reported.

  Cole zoomed in on the destroyer icon flickering from amber to red and back, seeing it was indeed the Argyle. A cloud of dots already surrounded it, those dots moving to the next closest ships.

  “Cap,” Haskell said, “something’s happening with the Argyle.”

  Cole watched the plot as the Argyle’s icon moved out of its position and headed for the Coalition fleet, ramping up speed.

  “Cole,” Srexx said, “I am uploading a command script to the helm console. That script needs to be distributed to the fleet and activated at once.”

  Cole’s trust of Srexx was so absolute that he didn’t even hesitate, saying, “Wixil, do it. Srexx, what does the script do?”

  “It will protect you,” Srexx replied. “The core aboard the Argyle is failing containment.”

  Cole frowned. Ship cores lost containment all the time. Why would…oh. Cole’s ships used singularity cores.

  “Are you saying we’re about to have an unrestrained black hole in our immediate vicinity?” Cole asked.

  “Yes,” Srexx replied.

  “I have the script ready to execute, Cole,” Wixil reported. “It looks like it does something with the hyperdrive.”

  “It does,” Srexx agreed. “The script will activate the hyperdrive without propulsive effect during the time the Argyle’s core fails containment, remaining thus until the core fully collapses. Normally, activating the hyperdrive this far into the gravity well of a star system would have deleterious effects, but—”

  “Forgive me, Srexx,” Cole interrupted. “Lecture later, please. Are those life pods safely aboard ships?”

  “The cruiser Leonidas just picked up the last dozen, Cap,” Haskell reported.

  “Jenkins, fleet-wide comms, emergency priority: run Srexx’s script now. Make sure our stealthed scout frigate is included. Wixil, do it.”

  Cole watched the icons of his ships partially fade out of the tactical plot; the Argyle’s data code reached the periphery of the Coalition formation just as its containment failed. Klaxons blared throughout the ship as the sensors reported a Class VIII singularity less than five light-minutes away; the massive singularity at the center of the Milky Way was only a Class V.

  Cole zoomed in the tactical plot, centering it on the Coalition fleet. Several of the smaller ships—frigates and destroyers—simply no longer existed. The more damaged cruisers were already breaking apart, and the dreadnoughts appeared to be red-lining their engines just to maintain their position on the fringe of the event horizon. Cole watched in rapt fascination as the singularity’s gravitational force ripped away the engines and pieces of the aft sections of the dreadnoughts…and vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

  “All helm functions restored,” Wixil reported.

  “Cap,” Jenkins said, “in addition to the number of combat casualties, the survivors of the Argyle report that the captain personally piloted the ship into the Coalition formation. I also have casualty reports coming in from the rest of the fleet.”

  Cole nodded. “Make sure the admiral receives those. I’ll review them once we retrieve our extraction teams. What’s the status of the scout frigate that was trailing the Coalition fleet?”

  Jenkins was silent for a few moments, Cole guessing he was scanning through incoming comms, “They report no damage, Cap. I don’t think the Coalition ever knew they were there.”

  “And now, they’re having problems powering life support, let alone sen
sors or weapons, so our scout frigate should be safe,” Haskell interjected. “I regret the cost, but wow…what a weapon.”

  “Haskell…” Cole said.

  “Yeah, Cap?”

  “We’re sitting on one just like it.”

  “Oh…yeah,” Haskell replied, his voice far more subdued.

  “Wixil, if you please, plot maneuvering orders for the battlegroup to approach Musilar Prime,” Cole said. “Jenkins, my compliments to the admiral, please; ask him to have the remainder maintain overwatch while we move in to retrieve our extraction teams. Also, Jenkins, if you would, please have our stealthed scout frigate proceed with all haste to Musilar Prime to act as overwatch for the extraction teams until we arrive.”

  “Maneuvering orders ready, Cole,” Wixil announced, “and distributed to the battlegroup.”

  “Fleet-wide orders from the flag,” Jenkins reported. “Haven and her battlegroup will approach Musilar Prime to recover the extraction teams while the remainder of the fleet serves as overwatch and a reserve, and the scout frigate copies, reports it is moving.”

  “Engage, Wixil,” Cole replied. “Let’s go get our people.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Upper Atmosphere

  Musilar Prime

  Lieutenant Commander Jack Rodriquez was the pilot-in-command for Assault One, the assault shuttle carrying the first of two extraction teams to the target facility. If he were completely honest with himself, he felt a little antsy. This was the first op where the Captain wasn’t hovering over their target like the Sword of Damocles, and he missed having the overwatch. After all, no one in their right mind would invite a reprisal bombardment from Haven; the video from Caledonia—almost five years old now—still circulated on the Galactic Datanet, getting new views by the day.

  Oh, well…at least it was night on the side of the planet where their target was.