by Blaze Ward
There were defenses, of course. Ballard had spent several days listening to the entire system before retrieving the rest of the team.
Three cruisers and three Hammerheads were in patrol orbits of the planet, so someone had properly valued the contents of those warehouses and determined that this was a good place to strike. Anything less than the full squadron would have found this to be too big of a risk.
Even with everyone, and reinforced, it was not likely to be a turkey shoot, but this was also the first place in the last year to be reinforced on the other side.
“Vanguard, this is Aukley, aboard Ballard,” a voice came over the command line. “Sending you an identification file to review.”
Enej routed it to the projection and spun it slowly as Jessica studied the image.
The three cruisers down there.
Interesting, indeed.
All three were different, but that was only obvious when you saw them with the Energiya housing attached, which was normally hiding in the dark during an attack. It was like three different models, or classes.
“Elzbet,” Jessica asked aloud. “Mako, Roughshark, Tigershark?”
“That’s my read, Flag,” the Science Officer replied. “Unless there’s something we’ve never seen before over there. I’m guessing they threw something together and called it a squadron. None of their transponders match anything ever tracked in Imperial files.”
That made sense, if The Eldest was finally having to pull forces from the other fronts of The Holding. Fribourg had been slowly losing, like Aquitaine had been to the Empire. Ending the second war had freed up resources to fight, plus Jessica and First Expeditionary Fleet.
As Yan Bedrov had said, more than once, the music had to keep getting faster so that bastard eventually tripped and broke a leg.
Mako was a knife-fighter, with a short-range firepower capable of savaging one of her cruisers, if she let it. Roughshark was a missile carrier, a bomber designed to strike poorly defended targets with some element of stealth that the others lacked.
The Tigershark was the most dangerous foe. Bedrov had suggested that Buran would eventually copy the Expeditionary Cruiser design: good defenses, lots of power, and long-range beams that let him jump to a distant point and blast someone, rather than having to risk all the Type-1-Pulse beams that surrounded Jessica at this moment.
Three Tigersharks would be a deadly force. Even now.
She spotted Denis, smiling at her on the console, and could hear his voice reminding her: We can’t win the war today, but we can lose it.
However, there weren’t three Tigersharks over there. It was a mixed force of cruisers, with different specs and capabilities, with a squadron of Hammerheads as escorts and wolfpack.
The only question she had was if they would flee immediately when she struck, or stay and try to fight.
“All ships, this is Keller,” she said, coming to a decision. “Food and potty breaks now. Movement orders in thirty minutes. Strike in sixty minutes. Stand by.”
She had an idea. Now she just needed to align her forces to inflict the maximum amount of cruelty.
They were well past the time of Jessica Keller asking politely if the citizens of The Holding wanted peace.
Chapter XIII
Date of the Republic October 06, 402 CA-264, Nents System
Eight light-minutes out from the planet. No significant change in destination routing or alert level, from the data gathered from thirty light-hours out.
Tomas Kigali felt a smile creep onto his face. CA-264 was tuned for range, today. All four Type-3 beams set to strike at the maximum possible reach, on the presumption that nobody was dumb enough to sit still as this force came baying over the hill.
Three big Makos. Well, cruiser hulls. He was still too used to thinking of them as Makos.
Jessica had assigned him the Tigershark, with two of the Hammerheads close enough to do something when all hell broke loose. The other three vessels were more or less on the other side of the planetary orbit. Not that a Buran ship couldn’t get here quickly in an emergency, but that would be even more stupid that just staying over there.
Tobias Brewster had designed an attack profile for today that he called Fire Ants. CA-264 and CA-410, plus all fourteen of the GunShips, coming hot out of Jump and attempting to immolate the Tigershark. CE-401 and CE-417 as well, but they would be escorting Vanguard, more or less, since there were stations deeper in orbit with some shoot-back capabilities.
But it would be him and Lucretia’s crew on 410. Tomas didn’t know her all that well, but the woman had been specifically chosen by the new First Lord for the role on the second-ever CA launched. And Alber’ had found her acceptable.
There wasn’t much higher praise in this line of work.
The rest of the force would go after other targets from the surprise of jump. II Augusta’s wing would go after the Roughshark with VI Victrix, while VI Ferrata had the Mako, with escorts and support ships on this side divvied up according to Ballard’s threat analysis.
Tomas reveled in the possibilities of Fire Ants. Someone had finally come to understand the potential of the Corvette/Assault, especially when facing the big Buran ships that were apparently rare and expensive. The Holding built impressive big vessels that could go toe to toe with cruisers and kick ass, while their little ships were jacks of all trades and not particularly exceptional at anything.
Not that a CA could take on a Hammerhead in single combat, but he didn’t have to. He had brought an entire street gang to the ball.
And now, it was time to dance.
“II Augusta,” the call came. “Flight Wing ready.”
“Arad,” Iskra chimed in. “Flight Team ready.”
“All hands, this is Keller, aboard Vanguard,” the Goddess of Destruction came over the line, warming his soul. “I have the flag. All ships have confirmed ready status. No deviations in targets. Kigali, you have the flag.”
Warm, happy sunrise spilled across his very soul.
Tomas turned to Arsen Lam, now a Senior Centurion who would probably get his own boat and third stripe sometime soon.
Arsen’s face was almost as happy as Tomas’s smile.
A quick glance at Aki Ridwana Ali, Tomas’s pilot from the CR-264 days who was a Centurion today, and hopefully could move up to Arsen’s slot.
Her smile wasn’t as broad or fierce, but she summed it all up with a delicately-chiseled eyebrow and a grin.
“Arsen, you have Tactical,” Tomas said, loud enough to be picked up and transmitted across the squadron. “All ships, continue to accelerate and prepare to jump in ten seconds from mark. All targets are identified and laid in.”
He paused, just long enough to confirm that everything was right with the projection, and his soul.
“Unleash the hounds of hell.”
Chapter XIV
Date of the Republic October 6, 402 IFV Vanguard, Nents System
The screens came live with realtime data, and Denis found himself in the middle of a maelstrom. Unlike the raid on Severnaya Zemlya, he hadn’t been pushing the JumpSails as hard this time. Nobody here was in a position to seriously threaten the Heavy Dreadnaught, unless something went horribly wrong.
“Gunner, fire everything,” Nina called out from her space across the big bridge.
Every beam fired with a different note, so close together that it sounded like a piano chord played with all ten fingers. Four Type-4 beams, all with arc. Ten of the sixteen Type-3 beams had been tuned for range and had arc, as Vanguard was coming in more or less straight at her foe at high speed.
Below them in orbit, the Tigershark looked like a man that had smacked a hornet nest with a stick, surrounded by angry, little ships trying to sting him to death. Both Corvettes had come in at a slight angle relative, so their rear guns could also bear as they charged, but the GunShips had gone nose down, firing everything off the wings as well as both turrets, as rapidly as generators and capacitors could charge and cool.
On the screen, this side of the enemy vessel was lit up with angry red blotches, like an allergic reaction breaking out in boils everywhere.
And then Afolayan’s guns hammered the cruiser like an avalanche.
Heavy Dreadnaught, with friends, against Heavy Cruiser, surprised.
Power absorber panels collapsed on the near side of the vessel, just a blink before the Bubble Gun arrived.
Denis was always slightly awed to watch the bolt streak across space, pop like a lightning bug, and then transform into a gigantic set of white-plasma hands that clapped a fly in flight. It wasn’t enough to crash every panel on the ship, but it would prevent the Director over there from routing energy to the back side of the ship, or rolling like a gator to protect this side.
And the GunShips were still closing, still firing.
One of the Hammerheads woke up. He was pointed away and up, relative to the attacking squadron, so his sudden acceleration just pushed him into rear arcs on the Corvettes.
Vanguard’s rear Gun Captains would probably thank the Director, if they could. They suddenly had someone to fire at, even as those Pulse beams began to scratch the side of Vanguard’s shields. The Hammerhead wasn’t close enough for the Flicker beams to be effective, and was probably holding them back, on the expectation of missiles.
Denis would have told him that there wasn’t a single missile in the force, but that would have ruined all of Nina’s fun as Tactical Officer.
Oh, what the hell.
“Nina, fire a probe at Hammerhead One,” Denis said aloud.
For a moment, she stared at him blankly.
“What?” she demanded, thrown slightly off track. “Why?”
“Project Mischief,” Denis grinned. “2218 Svati Prime.”
That got a grin. A lot of grins, even from the newer faces around them, for whom The Long Raid was just a history topic and not living memory.
“Denis, you are an evil, evil man,” Jessica’s voice came over the interior comm. “I like it.”
“Gunner, new target,” Nina laughed. “One probe, intercept course, Hammerhead One.”
“Aye aye,” Afolayan laughed as he mashed buttons.
Below and aft, the sciences team probably crapped their pants as their section suddenly started making noises. They were on duty and at battle stations, but nobody had done something this silly in a couple of years. Maybe since that hot landing at Petron.
Chunk.
Almost immediately, the Hammerhead’s Flicker beams lit up and began tracking the probe, missing badly on the first pass because they were expecting an accelerating missile, and not a scientific package riding quietly along on inertia.
Still, the bridge laughed, even while they poured fire into the Tigershark and adjusted shields to deflect incoming fire from two directions, and all the little things that made a warship work.
Suddenly, nothing.
Both ships had jumped away at the same moment.
“Nina, kill the probe,” Denis ordered.
More misdirection. Never let them figure out what it was, but instead live in fear of yet another secret weapon from the crazy barbarians.
“Status report,” Nina called over the comm.
Denis was echoing her boards on his own. Couple of shields that had been hammered almost enough to collapse. A little leakage, but most of that had splashed on the armor and insulation, rather than penetrating. Just like Bedrov planned it.
The two Corvettes had taken some mauling, but again, nothing serious. Sixteen targets suddenly appearing had apparently confused the Director, so he had done the worst possible thing and split up his fire. None of the GunShips even reported significant damage, when the original projection had been possibly three of them crippled, had the ship reacted fast enough.
“All green, Flag,” Nina replied after a moment.
“Understood, Nina,” Jessica replied. “Heavy team, this is Keller. Tighten up and change course to nav point nine. Begin blasting civilian targets as you can reach them, but be prepared for the enemy squadron to return.”
Denis listened with half an ear as Jessica and Enej started sending routing instructions to Alber’ and Robbie. Apparently, the Mako had been half-asleep, or whatever a Sentient starship did when the brain was turned down. They had jumped clear, but not before suffering enough damage that it might not have been able to return and fight.
Alber’ and Komal MacInerney were like that.
If Robbie and Hardie had handled the Roughshark with less brutality, they had been almost as effective, to see the scans sent to the rest of the squadron.
Three Hammerheads, functionally undamaged. Three cruisers ranging from badly mauled to possibly crippled.
And now it was time to hunt, but a thought niggled at the back of Denis’s head. He opened a private line to Jessica and engaged a damping field around him. People could still listen, but he wouldn’t be shouting over the whole bridge crew.
“What’s up?” she asked, turning to face him.
“We’re punishing the bastard,” Denis began, more or less stating the obvious. “Stations are starting to fire, but nothing we can’t handle, with the defenders chased off. I’m wondering if we might have pushed them a little too far today, or how soon until we do.”
“Not sure I follow,” the First Centurion’s eyes got serious.
Denis wasn’t sure he did, either, so he just rambled, hoping it would make sense.
“What if they get desperate?” he tried. “Or sneaky. Nobody has ever done it in the past, but we were fighting Fribourg, and there were rules. Against Buran, the only battle we’ve fought that was close to even was Trusski. The rest of the time it was a slaughter.”
“What scenario do you envision?” she asked, obviously typing from the sound in the background. Probably looking something up.
“What if the Sentience on one of those ships decides that the only way to win this battle is to ram us at high speed and explode?” Denis finally found the words. “They already self-destruct if they get hurt too bad. Would you be a high-enough value target to warrant the cost?”
Her eyes got distant. Juggling number and outcomes, like she did.
“All teams, this is Keller, I have the flag,” she suddenly switched to the team channel. “Execute a random flight deviation now. At least twenty degrees on two separate axes of maneuver. Escorts, tighten up on your charges and look for sudden suicide charges with intent to ram.”
Nina’s head popped up in Denis’s field of vision, so hard he thought she might fall over backwards if she wasn’t strapped down.
“Son of a…” she started to say. “Brewster, take over Rachel and Zebra turrets, plus all the rear guns. Both Gunners, hold half your fire back at all times while engaging civilian targets.”
Denis nodded.
They had been approaching Buran like a simple Warrior. What would happen when those folks got desperate?
“One other thought,” Denis said on their private channel.
“Hmm?”
“Ishfahan would have a lot of fun, right now,” he said. “Launch a salvo and then zip off someplace else, especially if we’re being chased by crippled Makos.”
Jessica’s eyes got a cold, hungry gleam in them. The kind that made him glad he was on her side.
“Lovely idea, Denis,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll send a note home with Mendocino, to see what Osynth B’Udan has that they can spare. Take too long to get Doreen back out here from Ladaux, and I’m not sure if she’s still in command, or if that class of boat is on the strikers list.”
Denis nodded and cut the private line, opening himself back up to the needs of Vanguard, few as they were right now. Nina had everything in hand, and both Aleksander and Tobias were blowing things up as fast as they could.
But this war wasn’t over by a long shot.
Chapter XV
Date of the Republic October 7, 402 IFV Vanguard, Edge of the Nents System
In the end, the paranoia had been a good
thing, but unnecessary.
Ballard had been quietly sitting out there in the darkness, listening. Jessica had told them to keep a safe distance, but they had gone in early and gone quiet, so they weren’t that far from the Buran squadron when it jumped.
Someone over there still hadn’t grasped the lessons of engaging Jessica Keller on the defensive. Those cruisers had gone straight up while escaping. Jessica would have expected the folks from someplace like Samara or Ninagirsu to have randomly selected a different destination. Anyplace but the trap she might have left them there before attacking.
Tom Provst would be out here soon, though, and she might be able to have him parked at that standard destination Buran’s Directors seemed to have ingrained in their souls. That would have been a priceless surprise.
But today was today. And the Director in charge of the force had not elected to try the utterly desperate solution.
Still, that was why Jessica cultivated her own commanders to think crazy thoughts. Like firing a probe at a Hammerhead, en passant.
Instead, the six vessels had rendezvoused just long enough for Ballard to get a good, if passive, scan. The Mako was probably destined for a scrap yard.
Idly, Jessica wondered if they extracted the ship’s Sentience and loaded it into another vessel, or just shut it down as well.
Did The Eldest see his naval forces as people, or tools? Aquitaine transferred crews to new ships when the old ones were too badly damaged to repair economically. Like one Star Controller she had recently commanded from.
It was just another way that they were truly alien creatures, no matter how you looked at it.
Of the remaining ships, the Roughshark might also be salvage, depending on a series of black gaps blasted in his aft section, the Energiya module, by Hardie. Again, would they scrap just the flight module and build a new one? There was so much that nobody knew.
If the Tigershark had come out the best of the three, that wasn’t saying much. And appeared to be a testament to a completely new design on Buran’s part, specifically to engage Expeditionary vessels. She supposed it was only fair, since Bedrov had done the same to them.
