Out of nowhere, blasts of orange fire began to dot space directly in front of his bomber. As Hume’s brain processed what was happening, over five seconds, the explosions became a sheet of fire. “Break off! Break off!” he yelled into his commlink. “This is Hume to all squadrons! Break off!” He gripped his flight stick so hard, he thought it would break. While all CDF strike craft had protective shielding, it was weak at best, compared to what would be found on even a frigate. He rode the explosions as his fore and aft shields plummeted, and dozens of friendly icons in his squadron status display went from green to red.
Performing a series of evasive maneuvers that consisted of sharply pulling his flight stick back and forth in rapid succession, Hume ended up profoundly disoriented. The electromagnetic interference from the enemy’s weapons caused a complete failure of his bomber’s communications and fleet link system. He flew on with nothing to guide him but the seat of his pants. “Hail Mary, full of grace,” he began as the sea of fire continued before him.
* * *
David stood, watching the scene unfold on the main holotank on the Lion of Judah’s bridge. His jaw was open, his eyes wide as he stared in horror. “Communications, warn them off!”
Taylor glanced up. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t get through!” His voice betrayed his frustration. “Major Hume got out an order to disengage, but nothing’s getting through that field.”
“Analysis, TAO?” David barked as he turned away from the holotank.
“Anti-fighter armaments, sir, exploding shells filled with sub-munitions,” Kelsey replied. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Ruth glanced at David and shook her head. “It makes sense. They’d expect the biggest threat from us to be carrier-based fighters and bombers, not capital ships.”
Green dot after green dot disappeared from the plot. Each one represented a squadron of bombers. God help them. The cost in pilots was horrendous. David estimated they’d lost sixty percent of the entire force in less than two minutes. The rest veered off and gained range from the station. He returned to the CO’s chair and sat in it. “TAO, how would those shells affect our shields?”
“The warheads are shrapnel-based, sir. Against capital ships, they’d have limited use.”
The Lion shook, causing the bridge crew to rattle a bit in their harnesses, while David and Ruth pitched from side to side. “So much for limited use,” David grumbled.
“Conn, TAO. Negative, sir. That’s plasma-based weaponry. Master One has focused all its weapons on us.”
And we’re sitting ducks. David shifted in his seat and glanced at the tactical plot. “Navigation, ahead two-thirds.” But how do I defeat them? He wasn’t sure what to do. The safest course of action would be to retreat, and he knew it. To hell with that. I’m not leaving without that shipyard destroyed. “TAO, firing point procedures, particle beams, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master One.”
“Sir, we’ve already established their shields are too strong. What are you doing?” Ruth whispered, her voice questioning and insistent.
David leaned over and spoke softly. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Retreat, sir.”
As David started to ponder what else could be done, Kelsey interjected again. “Conn, TAO. Forward shields are down to less than twenty percent.”
We have not come this far to stop now. “Navigation, hard to port, rotate the ship, and display our starboard shield to the enemy.” The vessel rocked again, forcing David to grab on to the hand rests of the CO’s chair.
“Forward shields failed, sir!” Kelsey’s voice was an octave higher than usual.
Through the transparent alloy “windows” in the front of the bridge, David watched as glob after glob of spherical superheated plasma impacted against the armor and hull of the Lion of Judah. While the ship was turning, it took forever due to its mass. “Navigation, emergency power on the turn! Everything you’ve got,” he yelled.
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond replied, her voice tight.
“General, we must pull back,” Ruth interjected quietly.
David turned to see a scowl on her face and her eyes wide. “Not yet.” As his mind raced to think of a way out of their predicament, another series of impacts jostled the bridge crew yet again. Pulling back is the only way to save the ship. The sheer mental agony of the thought troubled him, yet he knew it was true.
* * *
Richard Hume blinked a few times. I shouldn’t be alive. His brain kept telling him the same thing, but here he was, flying inside of the shield sphere of the Leaguer shipyard. “Flying” wasn’t quite the right word. His engines were reduced to thrusters only, and he was coasting at a low rate of speed. A quick check of the onboard damage control and diagnostic system told him he’d taken damage to the micro-fusion reactor that powered his bomber, and most of his flight systems were toast. Communications, however, wasn’t one of them.
“Hume to Amir,” he said into his commlink.
“By Allah, it is good to hear your voice, old friend,” Amir’s rich baritone replied. “Where are you?”
“That’s the pickle of it, Colonel.” Hume smirked inside of his flight helmet, even though no one could see him. “I’m in the belly of the whale. I can’t tell you how I survived, but I rode the blast wave. I assume the fleet opened a hole briefly in the enemy's shields, and here I am. More importantly, how many of my pilots got out?”
There was a pregnant pause on the line. “Not enough. We need to figure out how to get you out of there quickly. I fear the fleet will have to retreat. The League presses us sorely, and the Lion of Judah is taking damage.”
The master alarm sounded, which diverted Hume’s attention. It took him a few moments to locate the source: a radiation leak from the reactor. The screen flashed red repeatedly, indicating radiation high enough to cause harm to human life. “I’ve got another problem. I’m going to start glowing in the dark before too long.”
“Is there a hole in the enemy's shield, still?” Amir asked.
“Wait one.” Hume engaged the short-range high-resolution scanning system his craft possessed, which quickly returned its findings. “No dice. I’m locked in.” He started to work through the possible resolutions, trying to find a way out. Then it dawned on him as he stared at the sensor readouts. I can take out the shield generator from within. “Colonel, I’ve got an idea. I can attack the overloaded shield generator and cause a cascade reaction.”
“What about the blast wave? How does Demood put it… no John Wayne crap,” Amir’s voice replied.
“I’m pretty sure our resident Marine commander uses stronger language than that,” Hume replied with a chuckle. “I should be able to outrun it, if my damage control unit can restore thrusters.”
“You’ve got a radiation leak!”
“I know, sir. But we’re out of options. Please relay my intentions to the fleet.”
“Insha’Allah.”
A few button presses later, Hume activated the thrusters on his craft and started to steer toward the nearest shield node. To his surprise, it was one of the ones severely overcharged. Now just a few more minutes, old girl, and we can get out of here. Another master alarm shattered the calm. His HUD displayed more bad news—further reactor damage, and the launch mechanism for his Starbolt missiles was coming up as inoperable.
“I’m afraid I have another problem,” Hume said into the commlink. “The reactor’s worse than I thought. Radiation levels are now high enough to be lethal within thirty minutes.” He bit his lip. “And I can’t launch the anti-ship missiles.”
“We’ll find a way to get you out, my friend. Stay calm and hold fast,” Amir’s baritone implored.
Hume stared out of the cockpit window at the station that lay beyond. So close, yet so far. I’m not getting out of this alive. The thought of death was something he’d lived with. It was something every fighter pilot faced daily. But he’d never truly believed he’d have to face it straight on. I can still make a di
fference, one more time. “Hassan,” he began. “I’m going to take out the shield generator. Tell the fleet to stand ready.” The Catholic prohibition against suicide as a mortal sin was suddenly front and center in his mind. If I’m dead anyway, I don’t think it matters.
There was another pause on the commlink. Hume supposed Amir was parsing through his statement. “I cannot allow you to sacrifice yourself.”
“It’s not your choice. I will willingly lay down my life so that others may live, and we may yet carry the day. That’s my choice. It was an honor to serve with you, Colonel.”
“And likewise you,” Amir replied softly. “May Allah grant you peace and comfort in the afterlife.”
“Thank you. Godspeed, Hassan.”
“Godspeed, Richard.”
With the flick of a switch, Hume disabled his communication system, then rotated the flight stick so he was on a direct intercept course with the nearest shield generator. He overrode the safeties on all six missiles his craft still carried and armed them hot in the weapons bay. Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee.
As he taxed the thrusters as much as he dared without causing a reactor overload, League point defense systems started to wake up to the threat his bomber posed. Red tracers shot by the cockpit at an alarming rate. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
He rocked the flight stick back and forth to confuse the enemy as much as possible during the terminal approach. Interlaced with the prayer he recited were memories of his wife and children. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Onward his vessel pushed, until the shield generator node was the only thing he could make out. “Yaaaah!” Hume screamed as the last couple of seconds played out. His final thought was a mental image of his youngest daughter riding on his shoulders.
The bomber made contact with the outer hull of the station and exploded a moment later. A second after that, a colossal explosion occurred with the warheads went off. Electrical energy shot out from the node, radiating in all directions. In the final second before he ceased to exist in the physical plane of existence, Richard Hume knew he’d succeeded.
19
The Lion of Judah’s bridge was still bathed in a dim blue light, while the officers and enlisted personnel seemed tense. Probably because they can sense Ruth’s and my disagreement. David’s mouth was starting to form the words to order a general retreat, when he was interrupted.
“Conn, TAO!” Kelsey shouted. “Sir, I’m reading an explosion inside of Master One’s shield sphere. Master One’s shields have collapsed!”
A rousing cheer went up from the enlisted ratings to the back of the bridge.
“As you were! Maintain proper bridge protocol, or I’ll have you all removed!” Master Chief Tinetariro barked.
“Navigation, bring us about. Intercept course, Master One, all ahead flank.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond replied.
“TAO, firing point procedures, particle beams, magnetic cannons, and neutron emitters, Master One.” David leaned forward in his seat. “Communications, relay to the fleet to turn and engage.”
Ruth glanced at David. “Our forward shields aren’t recharged.”
“I realize that, but we need to make hay while the sun shines. They’ll get those shields back online, and before they do, we’ve got to hit hard.”
She nodded in reply but was silent.
“TAO, target shield generator nodes, and weapons emplacements with the magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”
“Aye aye, sir. Firing solutions set, sir. Be advised it’s another three minutes to recharge our forward particle beams.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” David replied. He glanced up at his tactical plot and noted with satisfaction they were lined up, as were the six Constantine class heavy cruisers. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all active weapons.”
The Lion shuddered as its main complement of magnetic cannons thundered in the void. There was little to see visually as they fired. Rail guns used electromagnetic energy to propel their projectiles, so there was no telltale flash as an old-time explosive projectile would have. The neutron emitters, on the other hand, lashed out with clearly visible blue beams. Even at the range they were at, David saw small orange explosions blossoming off the League station. A split second later, when the magnetic cannon rounds hit home at ten percent lightspeed, larger explosions broke out.
“TAO, double load magnetic cannons with armor-piercing shells.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
David glanced at Ruth. “Aren’t you glad we didn’t retreat?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied with a smirk. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”
“Is that an Amish thing?”
Ruth snorted. “No, sir.”
* * *
Simultaneously on the Trotsky, the aftereffects of the latest salvo of incoming fire from the Terrans were felt. A power conduit overloaded, shorting out half the consoles on the right side of the operations center, which led to a small fire. Damage control teams rushed into action, spraying down the affected electronics with fire-retardant foam and dousing the flames quickly.
“Captain, I’m unable to put our shields back together. They’ve taken out too many generators,” the tactical officer called out in alarm.
“What percentage of our hull can you cover?”
“The side of the stations not being engaged has full coverage, sir. The rest? I can reestablish the field over fifty to sixty percent of the surface area.”
Konstantinov sat back in his chair, quickly running through his options. “Activate our thrusters and rotate us one hundred and eighty degrees.”
The executive officer glanced at him. “Captain, we haven’t tested those systems in—”
“Yes, I know. Execute my orders, or we’ll keep getting pounded on our exposed hull. There’s only so much punishment it can take. Prepare a communique for Admiral Hartford. Tell him to hurry, or there won’t be a station left for him to defend.” Officers and enlisted personnel stared at one another, eyes wide, jaws open at his words. This is what we get for our overconfidence. Limited defenses and a soft underbelly. Lenin help us all.
* * *
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change! Inbound wormholes, League of Sol signature,” Kelsey called out.
David’s head snapped down from the tactical plot, where he’d been staring at his opponent’s latest counter. A decent commander, that Leaguer. He’s matching us effectively. Typically, CDF officers not only had superior technology but excellent training and skills as well. It made the appearance of a tactically smart enemy all the more jarring. “How many, TAO?”
“Two Rand class cruisers, ten Cobra class destroyers, and eight Lancer class frigates, sir.”
Not a significant force, but still enough to make an impact with most of our ships experiencing some level of damage. “Communications, get me Colonel Aibek.”
* * *
Unlike Terran Coalition ships, which bathed their bridges and control centers in calming blue light, the bridge of a Saurian warship was lit in red. The color performed the same function as it did for the humans: it helped focus their eyes on the computer screens and displays. Aibek sat in the raised war commander—the equivalent to the human commanding officer title—chair. They’d raced toward the ongoing battle and were about to enter primary weapons range. Now he stared at the new threat—the blob of red dots on his plot, indicating more enemies.
“Colonel Aibek, I have General Cohen for you on audio/visual communication,” the comms officer, a tall Saurian with green eyes and a bright plume of orange scales on her head, announced.
“Put him on my screen.”
A moment later, David’s face appeared. “Colonel, how’s it going over there?”
“We are moments away from lending our firepower to the fight, sir.”
David grinned. “I noticed. I’ve got a new mission for you. Engage and destroy the group of Leagu
e ships that just jumped in.”
Aibek’s words had a slight hiss to them. “Aye aye, sir. We will annihilate them and return to help you finish off the enemy.”
“Godspeed, Colonel.”
“Walk with the Prophet, sir.”
The communication system blinked off, and S’stro hissed in his ear, “Now the humans send us off to fight an inferior enemy while they claim the glory of destroying the shipyard. Typical.”
It took every ounce of self-control Aibek possessed not to backhand her right there and demand a duel. “General Cohen’s tactical reasoning is sound as always. The rest of his ships are weakened. We are at full strength,” he hissed back, showing his teeth as he did. “Navigator, plot intercept course on the lead League vessel. Increase speed to maximum.”
S’stro glowered at him but said nothing.
The enemy vessels had appeared at the Lawrence limit, and from there were burning at maximum safe sub-light speeds, as was the Resit Kartal. Between them, the closing velocity was nearly seven million kilometers per hour. Were it not for the inertial damping fields, the maneuvers to come would kill everyone on the ship.
Aibek studied the plot carefully. The Resit Kartal’s weapon systems were impressive and designed for destroying enemy capital ships. He wanted to engage them at the best attack profile, and take minimal shield damage. “Navigator, adjust course thirty degrees to port. Present our starboard side toward the League vessels.”
The human navigator, who wore a CDF uniform and was part of the exchange program between the two militaries, glanced back at him. “Aye aye, sir.”
“Tactical, plot firing solutions for Master One and Two, magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 19
