Each breath was a struggle. Each movement risked pain.
With his own struggle for breath and that of those around him, it took him a while to notice that the Marine no longer rasped air before he panted in a small gasp.
The Marine was dead. Dead because someone delivered a water cushion that was not up to specs and had a defective point. Maybe a bubble in the plastic that weakened a single spot in the water cushion that made all of it defective and worthless.
If he survived his encounter with this Human Kris Longknife, Admiral Zom promised himself that he would have a serious and most painful apology from all those clan men of importance that provided this faulty equipment.
The admiral would laugh in their faces as they writhed in pain. He would kick them in their beaks, their guts, their most sensitive flesh, as they paid the highest price for what they had done to his men.
It would be a minor price for them to pay for the loss of so very many brave and courageous men.
Even under the weight, Zom grimaced. He would have to win this battle before he could do anything to those cheap clan lordlings.
Longknife Human, you will have to die so that I can see that they die, too. Too many have already died. Their sacrifice cries out for victory.
Admiral Zom could no longer see his battle board. However, even flat on his back, he could not avoid the agony of watching his fleet's bitter decimation. The lights that sparked on his board reflected off the overhead. He could not fail but count them as the number rose higher and higher.
Still, bitter as it was, he did not release the frigates from their course. From their duty. If they would not flinch, he would not either.
Admiral Zom closed his eyes. It did him no good to observe the slow attrition of his fleet. At the end of this hour, he would decide what acceleration they need, coming out of the swing around the gas giant, to send them hurtling after the puppet's fleet.
His ships would get one shot at the Human's fleet as they zoomed past them, still carrying too much energy on their ships.
After that one shoot, he would accelerate his ships after them. At some point, that fleet would have to begin decelerating if they wanted to make orbit around Langnae 4. That would be when the real fight would begin with them both decelerating on parallel courses.
That is when ships would vanish with each broadside. Each salvo. That is when he would decide the fate of the Empire for the next 1,000 years.
Admiral Zom checked the timer on the main screen. The alarm would go off in exactly half an hour. That was when he'd need to make his next decision. For now, he lay back, closed his eyes, and struggled to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest, and keep his lungs moving to provide oxygen to his blood.
For the moment, survival was all that he could do.
So, he set his beak and concentrated on surviving.
61
Grand Admiral Kris Longknife watched the rebel fleet as a major chunk of it completed its swing around the gas giant and began the climb out of its gravity well. It was show time.
She had only minutes before her ships shot into range of that massive collection of ships. The fire fight would be brief as she left them behind in less than a minute. However, even now, they began to put on acceleration that would catch them up with her later.
Kris studied her board, looking for the best way to arrange this blazingly short encounter to her benefit. No doubt, the rebel commander would prefer for her to allow his broad arms to hug her close, bringing every one of their guns to bear.
That was the last thing Kris intended to do.
"Send to fleet. On my mark, take all ships to Condition Zed. Begin hull rotations, decrease deceleration to .49 gees. Two minutes later, decrease to .48. Stand by for a close encounter of the shooting kind.'"
Kris chuckled at her own joke. Maybe it would loosen up taut nerves. Maybe it would be wasted on minds focused on picking out a target and tracking it until the firing solution was accurate to the thirteenth decimal place.
Around her, the Princess Royal hummed as it prepared to shrink down into the smallest possible target. Water coursed through her hull, filling a honeycomb of chambers that would cool the hull from any laser hit. Her battlecruiser wore a coat of crystal that could absorb most laser hits and spread it around the hull and radiate it back into space.
For the Humans, this armor was a Godsend. For the Iteeche, the armor was technology that the Humans refused to release beyond the rim of their populated space.
Iteeche battlecruisers, both loyal and rebel, would burn as the lasers cut through their hulls. The spinning surface of the battlecruisers would move the laser-burned armor away from the spot hit and to someplace where it could cool. That assumed that too much energy was not applied to too small an area.
Kris gave the execute order and her fleet shrunk from comfortable to a nearly solid block of Smart Metal™. The crew were all in their high gee stations at their battle station. There was little reason to move around inside the ships so every possible scrap of metal from passageways and quarters went to the hull for armor, or the honeycomb behind it to cool it when a laser hit.
Slowly, her fleet edged ahead of the rebels. They'd gone into the swing around the gas giant at five Iteeche gees, about 4.35 gees for Kris's Humans. They'd come out of the swing accelerating at 4.0 gees. As expected, the rebel-advanced vanguard led the way. None of the battlecruisers had failed, though Kris had to wonder how the crew had taken to all the extra gees. She knew their high gee stations were a lot less effective than the ones she provided to the loyalist ships.
The massive blocks of over 6,000 recently built little ships had quite a few holes in their formation. At a continued heavy gee acceleration, the skippers had little extra they could pull from their reactors to keep pace.
Kris eyed that and wondered if there was some advantage for that among the holes for her and her fleet.
"Send to Admiral Tong. Vanguard, main body, and rear guard, should take the battlecruisers of the rebel's advanced guard under fire. Top and bottom wings, concentrate your fire on the new construction with one of the three most powerful reactors. They should vanish like moths drawn to a fire."
Kris could not hear the sound of fire control sensors switching on and aiming themselves at the onrushing hostiles. She couldn’t hear it, but she sure felt it. If not through her teeth, then through her soul.
Just ten seconds later, Nelly said, "All ships have acknowledged your order, Admiral."
Another small window appeared on the main screen. Apparently Tong had every warship monitoring her channel, and gave them orders to respond directly to her.
Considering all the squadrons, flotillas, and wings between her and the last ship, it wasn't a bad idea to have them take their orders from her and send their acknowledgements directly back to her. It was a kick to think she personally commanded 6,000 ships. It was also a kick in the gut.
Her command was huge, yet it would turn on a word from her. How scary could life get?
"Admiral Tong, please have the Iteeche battlecruisers fire on rebel battlecruisers by divisions," Kris ordered. "Please have each ship in the upper and lower wings fire their forward battery at a single ship. Have a second target selected for the rear battery. I'd like to see how many of these newly constructed ships we can destroy in the short time we're in range."
Four battlecruisers targeting one rebel ship at a time ought to be lethal.
"Admiral Kitano, please have the Human battlecruisers fire by pairs. The improved fire control and computer systems on the Human ships should give them the lethality of four Iteeche ships,” Kris commanded.
"Aye, aye, Admiral," the Iteeche responded.
Her fleet was barreling down on that tiny, unmarked spec of space where they'd come in maximum range of the rebels: 270,000 kilometers.
"Fleet, on my execute order, go to 1.5 gee deceleration and begin Evasion Plan 3." Kris paused to watch as the numbers on her screen quickly rolled up to 6,000 warships resp
onding.
"Execute," she ordered. "You have weapons release. Good shooting."
And may any available God have mercy on a lot of souls in this small patch in the vastness of space.
Kris felt herself take on weight then lose some of it. Her head slammed into the restraints as the ship dodged left and dropped out from under her.
It was just another wonderful day that she wasn't stuck in an office.
The lights dimmed as the massive capacitors began to draw power into them even as they emptied. It was likely the twelve 24-inch lasers in the forward battery could fire for an extra second based on what electricity they soaked up between the time the ship's lasers started firing and ran dry.
Kris had established a standard doctrine that she would rather have the next shoot start a second sooner than empty the power.
The ship dodged twice while its batteries reached out at the speed of light to slash into a ship that Princess Royal and the Intrepid shared for a target. Kris snuck a peek at the gunnery board for the P. Royal; Guns was aiming the twelve lasers at four spots on the hide of a distant battlecruiser. With luck, he might get burn-through on one or two.
Kris could be that confident of her ship's shooting not just because she had tightened the laser in their cradles. Nelly and her kids also lent a hand to Human squadrons to refine their firing solutions and get them to the guns faster. The Human squadrons were the deadliest ships in the fleet.
Kris eyed her board. It was not showing her what was happening on the other side of this shoot. She scowled but kept her mouth shut.
When there was something to tell her, she would be told. Until then, other people had jobs to be done even as she waited.
62
Admiral Zom was still recovering from the five gees. Only a few hours ago he'd thought 3.5 gees was unbearable. After hours in excess of 4.5 gees, 3.5 seemed so relaxing.
Still, his neck hurt, and he was breathing rapidly as he refreshed the oxygen in his blood.
However, he had a problem barreling down on him with the certainty of death. Even as he accelerated toward Longnae 4, the swing around Longnae 5 had them skidding off a direct course.
At the top of that skid waited that Human Kris Longknife and her battle fleet. His board estimated that they would be in range for hardly enough time to fire, reload and fire again, and that only if they did the reload faster than they usually did in drills.
Ordering the fleet from Condition Charley to Condition Zed, Admiral Zom prepared for the fight.
"Prepare to engage the enemy fleet. This shoot will be short and pass quickly. We should be in range for less than a minute. Still, I expect every ship to meet the enemy with two volleys from each battery. We will commence Dodging Plan C on my mark. We will get the outer skin of all battlecruisers rotating at twelve revolutions per minute. Ships will fire by squadrons. Wing and flotilla commanders will allocate targets to each squadron. All ships will fire as soon as their squadron commanders establish that your target is in range."
The nature of physics had given the Longknife Human a heaven-sent gift. The Humans called it “Crossing the T.” She would be able to bring all her ships to bear on just the ships of his two vanguard wings and the array of gunboats and frigates on either side of those wings.
Still, the forward battlecruisers would be getting good shots at her fleet. Too bad he couldn't identify just which ships were Human. He'd concentrate on them. Killing the Longknife abomination would end any hopes the false emperor's clans had of winning this war. Maybe with her gone, they'd call it quits.
They were coming up on maximum range for the 24-inch lasers. The beams would be weak, and lasers were notorious for not hitting anything that far out. Still, those battlecruisers would be in range for forty seconds. He had to try to do some damage.
Certainly, that Longknife Human would be doing her best to do hurt his ships.
He was only moments away from coming in range.
"Execute Dodging Program 3. Fire when target is in range."
The order given, Admiral Zom waited for word.
His flagship slowed by a fraction of a gee, then dipped down. A few moments later, it dipped down again, before going right and up. Zom banged his head against the restraints of the high gee station, but he still elevated his head and bent his legs so he could get a good look at his battle board.
Now, it could begin to tell him something.
While getting information from ships, flotillas, and wings was slow, the admiral did have one ace up his sleeve. One of his clan's younger chiefs had bought a gizmo off of a Human. It could be aimed at an area and would count the number of reactors in that chunk of space. Each of his nine wings had two ships, one at each corner of their rear. Each of those battlecruisers had a device aimed at the rest of the warships, tracking the reactors in the wing.
He might not know if a ship suffered the loss of one reactor, but if all three reactors on a ship suddenly ceased to report, he had a pretty good idea that ship was not going to report any more.
While the center force had 1,920 ships, the other eight wings had a tally of 1,760. Each ship had three reactors. Verbal reports coming in told him several battlecruisers had a reactor down for repairs. Still, the total per wing was still at the maximum number. Apparently, a lame reactor still counted as available to have its nose counted.
The Longknife Human's wings swept into range of Zom's advanced vanguard. Both fleets opened fire.
In an instant, the Iteeche admiral recognized his mistake.
He had ordered his ships to fire by squadron. Flagships of each squadron led seven other ships in-line. Only now did Zom realize what that meant. For a fraction of a second, the entire squadron was not in range. During that fraction of a second, the flag was in range of the enemy fleet.
So that was why the Longknife Human had juggled her ships around, going from five columns of seven or eight flotillas to seven columns of five or six.
The flotilla at the head of each of the enemy columns swept into range. Each one led with a squadron in-line abreast followed by three more. In the blink of an eye, 56 battlecruisers were in range of the 24 flotilla leaders. Another 56 of the Human’s ships would sweep in range at the same time 24 of his ships.
In other words, the misguided fools following the child opened fire at his first 48 ships while they held their fire, waiting for the rest of their squadron to pull in range.
Twenty of them vanished while they held their fire upon his order. That messed with the rest of their squadrons mates, as they waited for the order to open fire, an order that never came.
Twenty-eight of his flotillas opened fire at 28 Imperial ships, but Zom’s other ships fired erratically.
It didn't matter. The Human side was dancing around, making itself an impossible target even as they flipped end-over-end to bring their rear battery to bear.
Meanwhile, the enemy's second flotillas came in range, rendering less damage that the first round of firing. Only ten ships in his first flotillas burned.
Then the Human’s lead ships finished their flips and their lasers slammed into his lead ships again. Twelve more of his ships dropped off the board.
Thus it went, as one flotilla after another came in range. Eight, ten, then twelve of his ships vanished from the count.
Then it got worse. The top, middle, and bottom wings of the Human ships pulled in range. Every moment another row of 6 flotillas would come in range, but during that same moment, so would another 6 loyalist flotillas. Now, there were 12 flotillas in range in less than the blink of an eye.
In that blink of an eye, lights began to sparkle amongst the horde of newly-constructed single reactor ships. A hundred ships blinked out of existence, leaving the admiral gasping for breath.
He watched as the other fleet went through its flip, something they did so smoothly, and his crews did so poorly. A moment later, more of his newly built gunboats and frigates began to spark and bubble away into nothing.
Instead of bein
g the surprise on which he would base his victory, the charge of these single reactor gunboats was turning into mass suicide.
Worse, a glance around the horde of gunboats showed that the enemy was picking and choosing. Ships vanished here and there. The gutting knife of death passed over this one to choose that one. Which of his ships was she picking?
"Number One, find out which of the gunboats are being selected for destruction."
"What?"
"Look at my battle board. She is picking and choosing which of the new construction to destroy."
"How could she?"
"I don't know. Maybe she has made a pact with the devils of the deep to control death. Tell me the names of some of the gunboats that have been blown to bits."
It had taken him too many seconds to discover that question to ask. It wouldn't matter when he got an answer. The enemy fleet was firing again. It had taken them only twenty seconds from the time the forward battery finished firing before her fleet was blasting his ships again.
Just about every ship of the enemy fleet was firing right at the twenty second mark. How was that even possible?
The deadly ships that had led the slaughter with their hard shooting were firing again. One after another, the four squadrons of each of the Longknife Human's seven flotillas cut loose. Over 100 ships vanished over the next six seconds. Then, smart as could be, they flipped ship and fired their aft battery. Another 67 Iteeche ships vanished.
It was clear to Admiral Zom now. He was firing by squadron. Most of the ships facing him were firing by division. However, those seven leading flotillas were shooting by pairs. It totaled some 220 ships, give or take a few. They fired four salvos; he lost over 300 ships.
All three wings of the enemy fleet had fired on his two vanguard wings. Over 3,000 of the Longknife Human's ships had destroyed over a thousand of his. He had yet to hear reports of those damaged.
It became clear after the first salvos hit that the gunboats in both the top and bottom array were the targets. Now it was beyond a doubt that the enemy picked the larger gunboats and skipped the frigates.
Kris Longknife Stalwart Page 37
