by Daniel Gibbs
“Hopefully, we’ll have this done before the Leaguers arrive.”
“What’s that Colonel Cohen’s fond of saying? Hope isn’t a strategy?”
“Yeah,” Hanson said as one of the missiles began to slide out of the tube. Time seemed to slow down. He rushed forward, throwing his weight into the pole that was pushing it up. Hunter and several other soldiers did as well. It took a good thirty seconds of effort, but finally, the weapon clicked into place, locked.
“Next?” Hunter asked with a cocky grin.
David looked up at the mission clock, each second ticking down. Where are they? There’s no way they were able to communicate we turned him, and Sinclair’s team knows their business. Forcing calm into his mind, he again repeated a prayer in Hebrew for the crew. Focus on what you can alter, and do not dwell on that which you can’t.
“TAO, confirm all forward magnetic cannons are double loaded with HE shells.”
“Conn, TAO. Loadout confirmed. Forward magnetic cannons are ready in all respects, excepting a firing solution.”
I’ll get a fifteen-second window to light these guys up. Six turrets pointing forward, six shells each. That ought to be enough to make a very bad day for the lighter ships.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change!” Kelsey began, her voice betraying excitement. “Inbound Lawrence drive signatures!”
David leaned forward, waiting for her report on the type of signature. Come on, Leaguers, follow your protocols.
“Conn, TAO. League signature confirmed, sir! Two Alexander class battleships, designated Master One and Two, eight Cobra class destroyers designated Master Three through Ten and twelve Lancer-class frigates, designated Master Eleven through Twenty-Two.”
“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Twelve, Thirteen, Sixteen, Nineteen, Twenty, and Twenty-Two,” David began, picking the six closest frigates.
“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set, sir,” Kelsey crisply replied.
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, forward magnetic cannons.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kelsey answered.
Immediately, David felt the ship shudder as the giant turreted magnetic cannons spat out their projectiles, which weighed as much as a helicar or two. It only took a couple of seconds for the rounds, which were traveling at ten percent the speed of light, to reach their targets. The addition of double-loading technology from the Saurian empire had taken an already effective Terran Coalition weapon and put it on steroids. With a salvo of six HE rounds fired per turret, as long as they hit the brittle hulls of unshielded frigates, he could count on crippled if not outright destroyed Leaguer ships. I shouldn’t be so gleeful at the thought of paying them back.
“Conn, TAO. Five League ships destroyed, Master Twenty still combat-capable; our shots missed her.”
“TAO, populate the board,” David ordered. I wish Ruth were here. She would have made every shot count.
“Aye aye, sir.”
A cluster of red icons appeared on the tactical board above David. An extremely tight formation of enemy ships. The sensors identified several debris fields from the destroyed frigates.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, all enemy vessels. They’re maneuvering on a direct intercept course with us. Master One and Two are firing, sir.”
As if to underscore her report, the Lion shuddered from League plasma cannon impacts. Checking the tactical readout, David quickly confirmed that these particular battleships were outfitted with the newer weapons that were significantly improved over previous League technology. As a result, their shields took a beating. I suppose it was silly to think they’d send anything but the best to try and finish us off.
“Aye aye, sir,” Kelsey replied.
“Communications, ping Major Hanson. I need an ETA for completion of reloading on our VRLS.”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor said quickly.
“TAO, firing point procedures, remaining Lancer-class frigates, forward magnetic cannons, and neutron beams. Double load EMP and HE rounds into the magnetic cannons; EMP first.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
David stared straight ahead, glancing up every couple of seconds to view the tactical plot. It showed the mass of League ships coming straight toward him while the Lion’s shields continued to drop.
“Conn, communications. Major Hanson reports eight minutes to complete reloading evolution, sir.”
“TAO, ETA to close pass with enemy formation,” David inquired.
“Ten minutes, present course and speed, sir,” Kelsey answered.
“Navigation, come to course,” David glanced up to check the relative bearing of the enemy formation. “Zero one zero. Five degree down bubble.”
“Not taking aggressive evasive action, sir?” Aibek questioned quietly.
“We can’t,” David said. “Any active maneuvering will complicate matters for the reload team. If one of those warheads drops and goes off in a freak accident…”
“Free trip to the afterlife without having cleared this area of space of the enemy.”
David couldn’t help but grin. “Touché.” It was Aibek’s job to ensure David was considering all elements of the battleship in his tactical decisions.
“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set, forward magnetic cannons double loaded and ready in all respects, sir.”
“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons,” David ordered.
Again, the Lion’s weapons suite spoke as one, sending thirty-six shells toward the enemy. Upon impact and detonation, David watched the tactical plot, which he had selected to show pertinent information on the frigates, shields on most of them collapsed. Those that still had active defense screens, only functioned at a fraction of full effectiveness. Followed up with neutron beam strikes, the League frigates were gutted; several exploded outright, the rest were crippled. A couple continued to maneuver, but had no effective weapons; they could be dealt with later.
“Conn, TAO. All League Lancer class frigates neutralized, sir.”
“Good shooting, TAO,” David said. Perhaps I was a bit too hard on her a minute ago. That was an excellent performance, and eliminating the enemies interlocking point defense capabilities opens our tactical playbook. “Reload forward magnetic cannons double load EMP and AP rounds. EMP first,” he finished. Next target, Master One.
“Oh, shit!” Hanson shouted as one of the reloading teams lost control of the metal brace they were using to push the Hunter missile into place. Time seemingly stopped as the long pole clattered to the deck plate, a metallic ringing affecting his hearing. The fifteen-hundred-kilogram weapon was now shouldered by a single team and brace; it began to buckle almost immediately.
“Cargo drone! Get a drone over here,” Hanson screamed, watching helplessly as the worst happened: the missile fell out of its tube and careened onto the deck. It bounced once, and a stabilizing broke off, scattering soldiers as they tried to avoid it; one wasn’t so lucky. It hit his ankle with a sickening crunch, causing cries for a corpsman to echo out.
There was a pregnant pause among everyone in the aft reloading space. Hanson ticked off three seconds in his mind, waiting for the gelled fuel motor to explode. “Thank you, Jesus,” he whispered when it didn’t. His brain switched to the rote procedures for dealing with a weapon misfire. “Fire watch! Fire watch!”
Seasoned chiefs took up the task, and within moments, a team of soldiers in full fire gear hosed the missile down with liquid nitrogen to prevent any possible spark or ignition from causing a potential loss of ship casualty. “Master Chief,” Hanson yelled toward the older woman, who was leading the fire suppression team. “Get that warhead jettisoned into space, ASAP!”
“Aye aye, sir!” she replied.
“Okay, step it up, people, we’ve got to move,” Hanson shouted to the room at large, picking up one end of the fallen brace pole. “Get the next missile in here and let’s prop it up. Come on, put your backs into it!”
Corporal Hunter appeared at his side, grinning. “I thought you were an officer for life,” she commented.
“I was,” Hanson said sheepishly.
“Could have fooled me with the master chief routine there.”
“I’ll have to remember that one,” Hanson replied, glancing at anxiously at a cart carrying the next missile. “Don’t drop this one!” he yelled with a grin.
A smart mouth in the back of the room yelled back, “Can we drop the next one, Major?”
“Shut the heck up and move, Private!” a grizzled old master chief shouted back, causing Hanson to shake his head. Never a dull moment in this job.
25
“Conn, communications. Major Hanson requests maneuvering be kept to a minimum. A Hunter missile fell out a tube. No release of propellant, but the fire watch has been set.”
David closed his eyes for a moment. “Communications, get me Major Hanson.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
A moment later, Hanson’s voice emanated out of the speaker in the CO’s chair. “A bit busy down here, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Major, if we don’t take evasive action shortly, the front of the ship’s going to be blown off. Hurry it up,” David said, his tone intense and direct.
“Working on it, sir!”
“Then go faster.”
“Aye aye, sir. Hanson out.”
David glanced up at the tactical plot and confirmed the forward shields were down to fifteen percent. Another good volley from those battleships and we’ll be taking hits on the armor.
“Conn, TAO. Forward magnetic cannons double loaded with EMP and AP rounds. Ready in all respects except firing solution.”
“Navigation, line us up with Master One. Dead on, less than one-degree drift.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond called back.
“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One. Forward particle beams, magnetic cannons, and neutron cannons.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kelsey replied.
“What about the missiles in space?” Aibek asked.
David shook his head. “We’ll need them along with another volley from our VRLS to handle Master Two.”
“At least the one that fell did not explode.”
“There’s a reason why we use gel fuel, as opposed to liquid,” David observed. “Far less chance of it blowing up when disturbed.”
“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set, sir.”
“Navigation, how are we looking?”
“Lined up within one degree of Master One’s direct bearing, sir.”
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, particle beams.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kelsey replied, and David felt the incredibly powerful weapon fire; the lights dimmed as the energy weapon capacitor drained every bit of power it could from the ship’s power grid. Through the transparent metal window on the bridge, he saw the four beams zoom away from the Lion, and the red shield effects on the League battleship. After several seconds of sustained contact, a small series of explosions were evident. Confirming on the tactical plot their target’s defense screens were down, he moved on to the next phase.
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams,” David ordered, leaning forward just a tad in his seat.
“Aye aye, sir.”
The ship again shuddered as the Lion’s magnetic cannons spoke into the blackness of space, throwing projectiles that weighed over a thousand kilograms at the enemy. On the tactical plot, it only took the entire salvo a few seconds to hit its target, propelled at ten percent of lightspeed. More explosions dotted the hull of the battleship, while the neutron beams added to the conflagration. Then a massive fireball erupted from amidships; the tactical plot showed it split into two separate contacts, quickly followed by another colossal explosion.
The League ship had been firing another volley of plasma weaponry at the Lion, which cut off in midstream.
“Conn, TAO! Master One destroyed, sir!” Kelsey nearly shouted.
From behind him, David heard the cheers and hollers from the enlisted soldiers fill the bridge. It only took Tinetariro a moment to intervene. “Maintain proper bridge protocol! Back to your stations!” she barked.
God, I shouldn’t be happy we just did that. But it’s a small payback for all the members of Dyson’s taskforce who’ve perished. The specter of enjoying what he was doing was never far from David’s mind, especially at a time like this.
“Conn, communications. Major Hanson reports reload evolution is complete for forward and aft VRLS!”
As soon as Taylor’s report registered in David’s brain, his mouth sprang into action. “Navigation, hard to port! Present our starboard shield to the remaining enemy vessels, engage combat thrusters, maximum burn. Communications, signal Colonel Dyson to jump in and join the fight.”
“Major Hanson’s timing is impeccable, as always,” Aibek commented dryly. “Our forward shields are under five percent power.”
“Miracles never cease to happen, XO,” David replied, allowing himself a small grin. “TAO, reload magnetic cannons, make VRLS tubes one through two hundred and twenty ready in all respects!”
Red dots lit up Amir’s HUD, so tightly clustered together, they became a blob of contacts with overlapping text. Filtering through the technology “noise,” as he thought of it, to the vital information of how many ships had jumped in, he realized with a start they were seeing more League ships than expected.
“Colonel, I’m showing four Rand class cruisers, supported by Cobra class destroyers and Lancer-class frigates,” Hume’s voice cut in on the squadron leader channel of his commlink.
“I have the same, Major,” Amir said. “They’re broadcasting a general call for the merchant vessels to surrender,” he continued, his mouth curling up in a grin inside of his flight helmet. “Let’s ring their bell, shall we?”
“With pleasure, sir.”
“Attention all squadron leaders, this is Colonel Amir. Trigger explosive bolts! Fighter squadrons, remember your briefing. We will provide interlocking fire support for our bombers, and strafe point defense emplacements. Bomber squadrons, priority targets are the cruisers. Good hunting, and may Allah be with you!” Amir thundered into his commlink as, simultaneously, he triggered the decoupling mechanism rigged up by the contractors.
Propelled backward by the concussive blast, his fighter drifted free, and he immediately engaged fifty percent thrust, pulling back and away from the merchant freighter he had been linked to, along with the rest of the Grim Reapers.
Once he was free to navigate, he adjusted the direction of his Phantom toward the target that Hume had selected; a foreboding Rand class cruiser. “Reapers, form up and stand by for maximum thrust,” he spoke into the commlink channel for his squadron, to a smattering of affirmative replies.
“Are you in position, Major Hume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Reapers, engage max thrust,” Amir said, pulling back on the engine thrust control until he felt it click into place at one hundred percent. The effect was instant, pushing him back into his flight chair. The League ships directly ahead became larger and larger as they flew on, first as specks in the black, barely visible against the backdrop of stars. Balls of red plasma began to zoom past his craft; League plasma-based anti-fighter weaponry.
The bombers lined up behind them, using interlinked ECM to jam the enemy targeting systems; still, lucky hits were achieved, and an unlucky Reaper exploded in a one-second fireball, its debris quickly becoming invisible against the darkness of space. “Max range achieved, weapons free, Reapers,” Amir called into the commlink.
He waited for missile tone on a PD emplacement on the Rand’s port side, pressing the missile fire button as soon as it sounded. “Reaper One, Fox three!” The rest of his squadron fired off their missiles, and the bombers added large, anti-ship munitions to the fight. Wave after wave of them dropped from the bomb bays, engines igniting and flaring in the darkness.
The fusion warheads began to impact against the League cruiser; its shields flared, then collapsed. Both anti-ship and the smaller, fi
ghter launched missiles slammed into the armored hull of their foe, causing explosions that turned the metal alloys molten. “Reapers, strafe with guns! Reaper One, guns guns guns!” Amir ordered, triggering his miniature neutron cannons and sending stabs of light blue energy into the side of the already damaged ship. He pulled up on the flight stick as the distance closed, leveling out as his fighter continued to rain light blue fire.
As the fighters pulled away, the bomber squadron fired one last anti-ship missile volley before they broke off, causing another wave of explosions that Amir saw the glare of against his transparent metal canopy. “Not bad for the big ugly fat fellas,” Hume commented into Amir’s ear.
“Not bad at all, Major, though, I’m not quite sure that’s how that saying goes,” Amir replied with a chuckle.
“Word is Colonel Cohen doesn’t like profanity, so I keep it to a minimum,” Hume explained. “Scratch one enemy cruiser. She’s launching life pods,” Hume reported. “Next target, sir?”
“Nearest Cobra class destroyer, Major. Turn and burn,” Amir commanded as he whipped his fighter around in space. I pray David and the Lion of Judah are faring as well as we are.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormholes, sir,” Kelsey reported as the Lion rocked beneath the onslaught of the remaining League ships, who pounded her starboard shields. David watched the tactical plot as a cluster of new icons snapped into place. “The new contacts are Colonel Dyson’s task force, sir. Four Ajax class destroyers, four Meade class frigates, designated Sierra One through Eight.”
“TAO, link all friendly ships into our tactical network, and prioritize the remaining League escorts as their targets,” David ordered, holding on to the sides of his chair.
“Have the smaller ships run interference for us?” Aibek said.
“Sort of, XO. I want to avoid having those escorts shoot down too many of our Hunters. Master Two seems to have tunnel vision when it comes to us.” The ship shook again as if to confirm what David had just stated.
