by Dennis Young
Allard’s voice came over the intercom again. “Looks like Marshall is going in for the kill.”
* * *
EAS Marshall…
Sonja Guererro had watched with fascination as the fighters cut away at Daefh. She knew immediately, no matter what the Qoearc did, they could not keep track of the fighters without a coherent plan; which they obviously didn’t have.
“Captain, they can’t hit a thing. They’ve got no sensor or tracking capability for this type of attack.” Lieutenant Macklin at Tactical followed the battle on his screens. “If we had enough Valkyries, they could destroy that big mother of a ship.”
Marshall shook as countermeasures deflected another round of emitter fire from Daefh. “Then we’ll do it ourselves. Helm, come about, but stay away from that torpedo port. Vector in at eleven o’clock, take out their Bridge.”
“Captain, incoming fire from astern!”
“Roll—”
Mass driver fire from Beauzic slammed into Marshall’s secondary deck structure. Everyone on the Bridge but Guererro lost their seats. Damage control personnel rushed to assist. Cracks appeared in the pressure hull by the lift.
“Hard to port, Helm, 90 mark 180, take us down! Stern PAKS, fire!”
Marshall descended, Daefh chasing, spiraling down and firing all the way. Depleted defenses absorbed most of the fire, but not all.
“Breach on the port launch bay, damage control on the way. We’ve got a fire!”
Guererro tensed. Fire was the worst thing to have on board. “Evacuate personnel from the launch bay, open the ports, kill that fire, now!”
“Aye, Captain!”
“Qoearc to port side, targeting the launch bay!”
“Swing the bow around, ready torpedoes!” Guererro watched the flickering main screen as Marshall’s prow came around. The crimson glow of Beauzic’s mass driver was like an angry red eye.
“Armstrong coming in on Beauzic, firing!”
Armstrong’s fire raked Beauzic’s control dome, and the Qoearc ship broke off the attack. Guererro muttered a thanks in Spanish, then hit the intercom. “Marshall to Burlingame. Mitch, we’re in trouble. We’ll fight as long as we can, but I suggest tactical withdrawal.”
“Captain, Beauzic is veering off, chasing Armstrong.” Macklin at Tactical looked over his shoulder to Guererro. “They’ve gone hyperlight.”
Guererro grinned and shook her head. “Belay that message, Captain Mitchell. Let’s take down that ship!”
* * *
QAS Beauzic…
Yiikor seethed. “Open a channel to the Earthfleet ship!”
A long pause. “Zacan, communications are weak, but I have a signal.” The screen lit, showing lines and static, but Yiikor could make out the face of Trachenberg.
“Yes?”
Yiikor opened his mouth, then nearly spit the words to follow out. “Surrender! Or we will blow you out of space! Honor demands your death! I will make the honor-killing quick!”
“Ah, yes, Qoearc are so well known for their humanity. I think not.” The link broke.
Yiikor’s scream of rage could be heard nearly through the entirety of the control dome. “Increase speed! Close to torpedo range!”
“Zacan, the Over-c engines are approaching critical temperature. The damage in the previous attack—”
The engineer disappeared in a blaze of blue fire, leaving only burning ash on the deck of the Bridge. Silence followed. Yiikor holstered his sidearm. “I said more speed,” he growled.
The crew turned back to their panels. The voice of the engineer-assistant could be heard, quietly passing orders down the line.
* * *
EAS Armstrong…
Trachenberg sat literally on the edge of her command seat. “Push it, Helm, Max-c. Draw them as far away from Marshall and Burlingame as you can, but keep them thinking they can catch us.”
“Beauzic closing slowly, Captain, but still out of range.” Wells at Tactical kept a hand hovering above the rear PAKS controls.
The intercom lit. “Engineering to Bridge. Captain, how long do you need to continue at this speed? The coils sustained a bit of damage in our fight with Diviak Nurmeen. Temp is edging upward.”
“Keep us in one piece, Kenji. Let me know if it gets too hot down there.”
“Engineering, aye.”
Trachenberg hit the intercom to the flight deck. “Mister Klauski, what do you have in the launch bays?”
“Three Phoenix and four Valkyries locked and loaded. Two Phoenix and four more Valkyries still on the flight deck, waiting ports to come available.”
“How fast can you move them to the launch ports?”
“Captain, we’ve never launched at hyperlight.”
“Assume sublight.”
A pause. “Maybe fifteen minutes, twenty at most.”
Trachenberg considered, then Klauski spoke again. “We can launch out of the loading bays if our speed is no more than Point-three-c.”
“Yes, do that, all second-wave fighters. I’ve got a plan, and Tactical will advise you once we have it in place.”
She snapped the switch and turned to Sciences. “Mister Stovul, find me a planetoid large enough we can orbit. I need it yesterday.”
The Arnec bent over his scanner as Trachenberg swung around to Tactical. “Status on weapons and defenses?”
Karan Wells scanned the readouts quickly. “Particlebeams fully operational, polarization at sixty-five percent, countermeasures at fifty. That’s about all we’ll get, with the accumulator damage. Engineering reports the remaining three accumulators are full to bursting.”
“Helm, Nav?”
“Armstrong is responding to the helm fully, Captain.”
“Coming up on a small patch of space junk, Captain. We might find your planetoid there.”
“Mister Stovul, analysis quickly, please.”
The Arnec stood and turned. “Several large planetismals and other bodies ahead, Captain, one planetoid approximately six hundred kilometers in diameter. A small moon, actually.”
“Helm, prepare sublight and establish orbit around that mark. Sciences, Nav, plot an orbit that will give us about ten minutes of occluded time.”
Trachenberg turned to Wells. “Inform the Air-Boss. I want the four Valkyries not in launch ports to take up positions either side of Armstrong, two and two, after he launches the fighters from the ports.”
Wells grinned. “They become our torpedo tubes. Good call, Captain.”
Trachenberg nodded. “You’ll have eight torpedoes, plus eight carried by the detached four Valkyries.” She hit the intercom. “Mister Klauski, get to your post. Lieutenant Wells will fill you in on the plan.”
“Aye, Captain!”
“Planetoid two minutes at current speed, Captain,” came Stovul’s report.
“Give me a thirty-second mark. Helm, Nav, put us in a close orbit once we’ve slowed. I want to mask launching the fighters with the planetoid.”
“Captain, Engineering reports sublight at your command.” The E-Tech glanced to the security guard on his left. “Gunfight at the OK Corral.” The guard nearly laughed.
* * *
EAS Burlingame…
Burlingame and Marshall bracketed Daefh, firing PAKS simultaneously. The Qoearc ship shook from control dome to power collectors. The sensor arrays showed damage. The deflection grid was gone. The rear mass driver was dark. Mitchell knew the ship was all but finished.
“Open a channel, Mister Rashim.”
“Clear signal, sir, they’re receiving.”
“This is Captain Harlan Mitchell, EAS Burlingame. Your ship is badly damaged, and your defenses are weak. Your weapons systems are off-line. You have minimal hyperlight power. Stand down.”
The screen split to show the Qoearc ship, and Sonja Guererro in her seat on Marshall.
The Qoearc Bridge was in shambles. Mitchell counted at least four bodies, and three others with obvious injuries. A motionless figure was slumped to one side of the main
station. Another officer came in view. “I am Camar, Saj’ok of Daefh.”
“First Officer, sir,” translated Rashim softly from the Comm station.
“Zacan Kel is dead, as you see. While I cannot surrender this ship with honor, I ask, what is your offer?”
Mitchell caught Guererro’s quizzical look. He paused before answering. “Your ship and crew have fought bravely, Saj’ok Camar. We offer you… strategic withdrawal and allow you to set course for your base in safety. There has been enough of killing this day.”
Two other Qoearc came to Camar’s side, both wounded, but said nothing. Mitchell thought they were the sorriest three Qoearc he had ever seen. These great ships, valiant crews, reduced to preparing to end their own lives. He steeled himself and waited for their answer as they conferred.
“Message from Captain Guererro, sir,” said Rashim in Mitchell’s ear. “Let them go.”
Mitchell acknowledged with a nod and continued to wait.
“Offer accepted,” said Camar at last.
The link closed, and the screen showed Daefh once again. The ship turned and moved off slowly, then disappeared into hyperlight. Mitchell breathed at last.
“Marshall to Burlingame.”
Mitchell hit the button. “Status, Sonja?”
“Probably about like yours. What now?”
Mitchell looked to the helm and Nav stations. “We have Armstrong’s course, sir,” said Onaedo at Nav. “Say the word and we’ll chase them down.”
“Now,” said Mitchell, looking to Guererro on the screen once again, “we go save Commander Trachenberg’s ass. Her words.”
“I have a feeling,” replied Guererro with a smirk, “it’s the Qoearc we’ll have to save from her.”
* * *
QAS Beauzic…
Beauzic dropped out of Over-c, sensors at maximum, as Armstrong had disappeared, going sublight unexpectedly and diving into a field of asteroids. The Qoearc ship slowed, searching for the Earthfleet vessel.
“Where are they?” Yiikor demanded. His screen showed more static and a jumble of drifting rocks, some fairly large. “Are they hiding in this sea of refuse?”
“Possibly, Zacan, and it would be prudent—” The Executive Officer stopped with the glare from Yiikor. “We will find them,” he said, then turned back to the scanning station.
“Weapons at full power, emergency defenses to the fore and around the engines. Stand by fore and aft mass drivers. If you have to take power from auxiliary decks, do so!”
The Bridge of Beauzic became very busy.
“Zacan, ship ahead, coming from behind the large planetoid! It is the Earthfleet ship!”
Yiikor grinned. “Ahead attack speed. Prepare to fire!”
* * *
EAS Armstrong…
“There they are, Captain, just like you said!” Wells at Tactical nearly leapt from her seat as Armstrong rounded the planetoid.
“Captain, they have increased their defenses around the Bridge and fore-decks. Our PAKS fire cannot penetrate, and our torpedoes may have minimal effect.” Stovul reported calmly from Sciences, and Wells nodded to Trachenberg in agreement.
“Alright, ahead one-half sublight.” Trachenberg punched the intercom button. “Commander Klauski, your detached Valkyries will go for the rear mass driver and sensornet deck.”
“Acknowledged, hit them where the sun don’t shine!”
Trachenberg grinned. “Lieutenant Wells, patch in to the four Valkyries and coordinate torpedo fire with them on my signal. Don’t fire torpedoes until my command.”
“Aye, Captain, on your command.”
“Commander Klauski… unleash the hounds.”
“Hounds, aye! Squadron, Circle the Wagon!”
“Helm, come to port, course Zero mark 90, flank speed!”
Armstrong rolled to port, then straight up from the previous course. Beauzic was slow in responding, and in those precious seconds, Klauski’s Valkyries broke beneath Armstrong and brought the Qoearc ship into their sights.
The first torpedo run shattered the sensornet deck. The second took out the secondary weapons around the aft mass driver and collapsed the interior structure.
“Valkyries away!” Klauski reported, as his fighters lost themselves in the rocky rubble. The Qoearc hadn’t fired a shot, and their rear defenses had been next to nothing for the torpedoes to penetrate.
“Captain, we’ve done all we can. Fighters are off the leash and hiding.”
“Acknowledged, well done. Tactical, stand by torpedoes, PAKS to follow. Everything.”
“Incoming!”
Armstrong shook with the phased emitter fire, the main hull groaning in protest.
“Countermeasures at forty percent!”
“Hard about, stand by to fire!”
Armstrong descended, Beauzic still not bow-on, and struggling with maneuvers.
“Tactical, PAKS fire to the foredecks! Cut away the screens, drain the accumulators if you have to!”
Wells hit the controls. Armstrong cut loose with all the PAKS fire it had. Beauzic’s defensive screens crumbled, disintegrated, the hull around them not enough to deflect the assault of raw power. Beauzic let go a wild barrage, missing badly.
“Torpedoes… now.”
Four torpedoes traced their way to the Qoearc control dome. Then four more. The foredecks of Beauzic blossomed, Armstrong’s Bridge screens dampening with the intensity of the explosion. Trachenberg winced, her eyes tearing at the flash of energy before the viewer went dark. Slowly, it crept back to life, showing the mangled corpse of Beauzic, drifting in space. Of the control dome, there was nothing but vapor and scattering debris.
“Comm, find their auxiliary Bridge and open a channel.” Trachenberg waited as Lieutenant Schrader scanned the RF frequencies.
“I have them, Captain.”
“This is EAS Armstrong, Commander Julia Trachenberg speaking. Your ship is disabled. We offer you honorable withdrawal.”
The intercom hissed. There was no visual on the screen, except for Beauzic in the distance. Then familiar voices broke in.
“This is EAS Burlingame, Captain Harlan Mitchell to Qoearc ship. You are outnumbered and outgunned. Surrender or be destroyed.”
“This is EAS Marshall, Captain Sonja Guererro hailing Qoearc ship. You heard Captain Mitchell. We suggest you follow his directive.”
Trachenberg looked around the Bridge. Everyone was standing and saluting. Saluting her.
* * *
EAS Burlingame…
The dismembered Qoearc ship once called Beauzic crept away from the Harmony system, eventually disappearing into Over-c. Mitchell had no idea where it would go or how long it would take to get there, with the fore decks destroyed and major damage to the defensive screens and engines. He finally convinced himself he didn’t care.
All the fighters had been retrieved. Casualties during the last attacks had been light on the Earth Alliance ships, and no serious damage done, except on Guererro’s Marshall. The flight decks on each ship had erupted in celebration once the Qoearc had been cleared from space and Battle Stations cancelled.
A day later, after eighteen hours of upchecks, downchecks, rechecks, and storing ordnance that had not been discharged, Commander Straum met with Mitchell on the flight deck, reporting all ships’ tech-crews and pilots were accounted for and safely on board.
“Well done, Commander. I expect you’ll have a full report to me before we return to Fleet Base Twenty-four.”
“Of course, sir. And I hope your Captain’s Review will mention our pilots and how they performed against the Qoearc.”
Mitchell nodded. “I’m sure I’ll have a few words. In the meantime, get some rest yourself. You and your command have certainly earned it.”
“Thank you, sir.” She paused, then continued carefully. “Sir, might I ask your opinion of the AI’s?”
Mitchell met her gaze with a smile. “Let’s just say the circumstances didn’t allow proper evaluation, and we expect the next g
eneration of AI’s to be… much improved.”
Straum returned the smile. “Yes, sir. In the meantime, our fighter pilots will do their jobs, as always.”
“I know they will, Commander. And I know you will as well.”
* * *
Guererro and Trachenberg sat with Mitchell in his ready room. Three days after the battle, and things were beginning to return to normal. The squadron was enroute to Fleet Base Twenty-four at 80c, as Mitchell decided a bit of time was needed for recovery. Fleet Base had concurred.
A pot of scented tea rested on the desk between the trio, with a plate of “goodies from the Mess”, as soft music played in the background. Something classical, Mitchell thought, but he didn’t recognize it. All he knew was, they were on the way back home.
He raised his tea cup. “Commander, I don’t know what else to say. I’ve simply run out of words.”
Trachenberg smiled slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment, sir. Thank you.”
“I sent a full report of the battle to Elder-First Carmichael, along with visuals and audio records. I hope it’s enough to convince him Harmony needs full Earth Alliance protection.”
Trachenberg shook her head. “If I may ask, why so, sir? They seem to have come out quite well with what little intervention we supplied.”
“I don’t call the defeat of a Qoearc battle squadron a ‘little intervention’,” said Guererro, refilling her cup. “You know the High Command is going to scream all the way to Earth Council.”
Trachenberg nodded after a moment. “I wish there could have been another way.”
“Do you, Commander?” asked Mitchell. “Wasn’t it you who said the Qoearc wouldn’t understand anything other than a bloody nose?” He chuckled. “I think you’ve given them enough of those for several lifetimes.”
“Yes, sir, but…” Trachenberg drank, then spoke again. “I guess it’s different when you’ve actually been through it and had a bit of time to reflect. All those lives…”
“You can’t look at it that way, Julia,” said Guererro softly. “It was your duty.”
Trachenberg nodded. “Agreed, Captain. Still, I wonder what we might have done differently to avoid it.”
