“Conn, TAO, both primary targets destroyed!”
A fierce expression came over David’s face as his eyes blazed fury. “Outstanding shooting, Captain.” He flashed a grin at Ruth before going back to the target board. “Raise shields!” Even though they were only half charged—something was better than nothing.
“Conn, TAO. Third enemy battleship ranging on our forward arc.”
It only took a fraction of second for David to do the math. “Navigation, intercept course, Master One thousand four hundred sixty-one, emergency flank,” he barked. “TAO, snap shot, same contact, forward particle beams.”
The lights dimmed, and the four primary weapons mounted under the Lion’s flight deck came to life. Concentrated energy pulsed out from them, reaching across the void. Beams of pure white, they impacted the shields of an unlucky cruiser for a moment before gutting it and ramming into the deflectors of the third battleship. Seconds later, the spears of energy burned through one side of the ship and out the other; on the way through, something combustible was hit, as evidenced by the vessel exploding violently. A few escorts flying too close were caught in the blast and destroyed as well.
As good as the outcome was for them, David knew they were just buying time. More Leaguers were already coming into range, a never-ending stream of warships. Sooner or later, they’d bust through and escape. The question was how many CDF, Saurian, and civilian ships would die in the process. The situation put him in a strange mindset. Earlier in the day, he’d been more than willing to die. He’d welcomed death, in fact. Now? After all they’d been through, it almost seemed unfair.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormholes!” Ruth’s voice cut into his thoughts. While professional as always, there was an element of fear evident in her tone.
David held his breath, watching the tactical plot as dozens of new icons appeared. God, please let them be allies.
“CDF signature confirmed, sir!” Ruth practically shrieked. “Reading multiple carrier battlegroups.”
“Conn, communications. Incoming vidlink from CSV Saratoga.”
“Put them on, Lieutenant.”
The monitor above David’s head came to life with an image showing the busy bridge of the Saratoga. Front and center was a man he recognized from combat many months prior. “General Cohen,” the man began. “Colonel Alexander Parks, at your service.”
“Colonel, it’s been a while.” David smiled broadly. “I’m surprised to see you still in command of the Saratoga.”
“Change of command was supposed to happen next week.” Parks wore an amused look. “Leaguers got in the way, as usual.”
On the tactical plot, David saw the League ships had already reversed course. Clearly, they didn’t want to engage the carriers. “Your timing is impeccable. Get your fighters and bombers in space. I’m going to offer the League Admiral a chance to surrender.” He shrugged. “If they refuse, we’ll finish them off.”
Parks grinned wolfishly. “The best news I’ve heard all day. We started launching our birds the moment emergence was complete. I’ll see you at the victory party, General. Godspeed.”
“Godspeed, Colonel.”
The vidlink blinked off. It took David a moment to realize Ruth, Hammond, and Tinetariro were staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“With respect, sir, letting them surrender?” Tinetariro replied, a hard look on her face. “They deserve nothing but being run down like the dogs they are.”
David shook his head. “If they’re willing to stand down, there’s been enough killing for today. We won’t be giving those ships back, even if we capture them intact. The Leaguers don’t have the vessels to keep the war going, so the only motivation to running them down, as you put it, is revenge. I won’t engage in revenge, especially not after how close we came to losing it all.” Left unsaid was his belief that they’d be tempting the wrath of God by doing so.
“Yes, sir,” Tinetariro finally said, though her expression telegraphed her distaste.
“Communications, get me an open channel to whoever’s in charge over there.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Taylor replied. Relief was evident in his voice.
* * *
We’re finished. The thought formed in Hartford’s mind as he stared at the holotank and the thousands of new enemy contacts displayed. It wasn’t just that the Terrans received more reinforcements, it was the type of ships: carriers. Ten fleet carriers and their accompanying battlegroups. By themselves, they’d probably be strong enough to send off the force he had remaining, Coupled with the rest of the enemy ships? It’d be an absolute bloodbath. “Superimpose the shortest retreat vector on the tactical plot,” he ordered.
“Retreat, sir?” the tactical officer asked.
“Do it.” Hartford’s voice took on a hard edge. He hoped there was still a small window to escape through. The blue lines going through the middle of the new enemy fleet dashed the idea. We could fight to the last ship. While appealing to the side of his mind that favored death before defeat at the hands of accursed Terrans, the gesture was futile. Such was their superiority in fighter and bomber craft, he doubted his capital ships would even range. If they turned around and tried to bombard Canaan, the planetary defense grid would chew them up along with the remaining Terran vessels between them and the planet.
“We could fight our way out, sir,” the tactical officer offered.
Hartford stood. He remembered the battle of Pluto Base and the sacrifice of so many good men and women under his command. I owe it those who fight for society, not to waste their lives. If they’d been fighting over the skies of Earth, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to give his life. But this isn’t Earth. The Terrans didn’t want to fight, no matter what the political officers say. He knew what he had to do. What is demanded of me as a leader of sailors. “Signal the fleet to stand down. All ships are to transmit their surrender on a brand band channel spectrum. Cease fire and drain the energy weapons capacitor.”
Instantly, the bridge became utterly silent. The political officer, Colonel Otto Frederiksen, was the first to speak. “This is treason!”
“Saving what’s left of this and the sailors who man it isn’t treason, Colonel. It is the only course of action that makes sense. A suicide run won’t even scratch their heavy warships. I won’t sacrifice these men and women for nothing.” Hartford’s eyes blazed anger as he stared at Frederiksen. “Take the Colonel below and confine him to quarters for his… protection.” A wicked grin broke across Hartford’s face.
“Pallis himself will hear of your treachery, Admiral!” Frederiksen screamed as two enlisted sailors dragged him off the bridge.
As the sound of his screeching ceased, Hartford again turned his focus to the task at hand. “Put me live to the fleet. Our brave sailors deserve to hear the order from me.” He flickered his eyes toward the communications officer, who nodded in return.
“Fleet link active, Admiral.”
Hartford stood in the center of the bridge and focused on the spot he knew the holocamera resided at. He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. “Officers and sailors of the League of Sol Navy, I salute you. We have fought the Terrans for over thirty years—such a long time. Many of us have served bravely and then sent our sons and daughter to serve. Now we see our grandchildren fighting and dying alongside us. It has been the hardest war the League has ever seen. You’ve carried the fight on the frontlines, and today was supposed to be our final victory. But the enemy has overcome us. They box us in, and any action we take will result in the deaths of all.” He paused for a moment and glanced between several of the officers around him. “Asking another to sacrifice themselves is something I do not do in vain. Today, it serves no purpose. I look around, and I see hardened sailors who have forged bonds that go beyond even what society demands of them. Men and women who would gladly give their lives to save those next to them. I will not ask you to make that sacrifice. We will now surrender to the Terrans and hope our leaders ca
n pursue a lasting peace.”
Shock was the first emotion that seemed to register on the faces of those around him, both officer and enlisted. The XO of the vessel spoke. “Admiral, are you certain we’re not betraying our social duty?”
“Quite, old friend. Now please get a direct audio-video link to the Lion of Judah.” Hartford sat back in his chair and pulled his uniform down as he fixed his shortly cropped hair. It wouldn’t do for the great General Cohen to see me unkempt.
“Coming up now, sir,” the communications officer announced.
The familiar form of David Cohen appeared on the viewer. His hair was streaked in blood, as was the khaki uniform he wore. “This is General David Cohen. What can I do for you, Admiral?” Even though he looked like hell, the man wore a smile.
As it should. He knows he’s won the engagement. “General, this is the second time we’ve faced each other. It galls me as an officer of the League to have to make this request.” Hartford steeled himself. “Will you grant us terms of surrender? I recognize you have us in a most disadvantageous position.”
“Power down your weapons and shields, and prepare for boarding. That’s the only terms you’ll get out of me, Admiral.” David’s face was hard and his gaze piercing. “Our Marines will take control of your vessels, and you’ll all be interned as our guests in a POW facility. If those terms aren’t acceptable, I’ll send in our bombers.”
“I would do the same if I were in your position, General Cohen.” Hartford set his jaw. “We will do as you instruct. Do I have your word as a fellow sailor that those under my command will be treated according to the rules of war?”
For a moment, David’s face contorted. “You’ve got some nerve, Leaguer. Talking to me about the rules of war? I know what happens to CDF POWs… they’re tortured until you get them to renounce their faith and beliefs. Guess what? We’re better than you. So yeah, I’m going to order my Marines to treat you and your personnel with respect, and we’ll give you three hots and a cot until the war’s over.” He pursed his lips together. “Is that all, Admiral?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Cohen out.”
The screen blinked off. Hartford was left to his thoughts as his mighty vessel sat, impotent along with the rest of the League fleet. What was it all for? He lacked a good answer.
* * *
“Conn, communications. All remaining League vessels have signaled their surrender,” Taylor called out.
Ruth glanced down and confirmed a reading on her console before looking back at David. I can’t believe it. “Conn, TAO. Confirmed. Enemy ships have powered down their weapons and lowered shields.”
From the CO’s chair, David flashed a warrior’s grin. “Well done, people—well done.”
The bridge erupted in cheers and applause that seemed to shake the deck. The enlisted personnel stood and hugged one another. Some members of the team shook hands while others stood mute, overcome by emotion.
As the tumult continued, Ruth found herself surprised to be alive. I’d made peace with the idea I was going to die today. How odd it is to still be here. In a loud voice, she began to sing. “Hineh ma tov uma na’im, Shevet achim gam yachad!”
David apparently recognized the tune and stood. He repeated the verse from the old Hebrew song, taken from Psalm one hundred thirty-three.
All Jewish members of the bridge crew, and most everyone else, joined in for the final chorus, which Ruth switched to English. “How good it is for brothers and sisters to sit together.”
There were several more rounds of singing, in Hebrew, Arabic, English, and other tongues of the Terran Coalition. Joy seemingly infected everyone, and for a few minutes, even the ship itself seemed to glow.
Ruth took notice of a new contact appearing on her display and spent a moment studying it before she identified the IFF signature it was giving off. “Conn, TAO. New contact,” she practically shouted.
“What is it, Captain?” David asked as immediately the room quieted.
“Admiral Seville’s shuttle, sir. He’s broadcasting a code requesting pickup from any Lawrence drive-capable League vessel.”
“Conn, communications. Confirmed, sir,” Taylor interjected.
David sprang out of his seat and appeared at Ruth’s side. “TAO, mark that target and vector the nearest SAR birds in. I want Seville in the Lion’s brig, pronto.”
“Why, sir?” she asked in a quiet tone of voice.
“So he can answer for his crimes.”
Pain overcame Ruth as she pondered the pain and misery Pierre Seville had inflicted on all of them. This man was the root cause of my parents’ death. He doesn’t deserve to live. She glanced up at David as tears formed in her eyes. “Why give him a platform, sir? He’ll use it to mock everything we hold dear. We can kill him now so he can’t get away.”
David stared down at her, his lips pressed together and a frown on his face. “Ruth,” he began in a somber tone. “If we kill him, we’d be committing murder. That shuttle is defenseless, and he’s running away. We’re better than that.”
“He’d kill us if our roles were reversed.”
“Yes, he would. But we’re not him, are we?”
His words fell like a sledgehammer on Ruth. Are we? Am I any better? The memory of her parents lying dead on the floor of their home flashed into her mind, as did the vow she took to keep killing Leaguers until they were all dead, or she was. She reached out and put her hand over the button to fire the neutron beams. “I could do it without orders, sir. Absolve you of any responsibility.”
David knelt and touched the Christian flag patch on her left shoulder, below the emblem for the nation of New Israel. “We can’t have it both ways, Ruth. Either we’re the good guys, and we follow the rules, or we’re not. There’s no in-between.”
A tear fell down Ruth’s cheek. “Judge not, for you will be judged.”
“God tells us that vengeance is His.” David squeezed her shoulder.
Ruth allowed her hand to fall back to her side after clearing the target lock. She glanced up at him, tears still present in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Tag that shuttle, Captain. Direct every SAR asset we’ve got in the area. Seville won’t get away this time.”
With grim determination, Ruth went about her orders.
22
While the capital ships had ceased exchanging blows, not every League officer or pilot was content to surrender. None more so than the remaining fighters engaged in dogfights with Amir’s depleted wing. After riding to the rescue of two of his pilots caught by a flight of eight interceptors, he found himself with five enemies on his six, all maintaining an active target lock and no combat-capable friendlies in range. “Reaper One to any Terran Coalition fighters… I am under attack by multiple hostiles. All stores expended. I say again, I am Winchester.”
Amir decided the best course of action was to make for the nearest group of CDF ships and hope the enemy craft would break off. He engaged in a series of interlocking s-turns, trying to shake or trade places with the League fighters. While there were no missiles left for him to use, he did have his miniature neutron cannons. I’m not going down without a fight to these infidels. Waves of red plasma energy flashed by his Phantom, some impacting into the already weakened aft shields. Just as the deflector failure warning flashed in his HUD, he obtained a lock on the Leaguer in front of him and squeezed the trigger. Blue neutron beams erupted from his fighter and reduced the enemy to dust.
Unfortunately for Amir, while he was occupied with the destruction of the last target, two of the four fighters tracking him settled into the sweet spot directly behind his Phantom. More red balls of plasma slammed into his deflectors, which failed after a few hits. He pulled back hard on his flight stick, attempting to perform a high-g barrel roll and avoid the incoming fire. As he came out of the turn, more fire smacked into his fighter. The master alarm sounded, indicating damage to his aft and port thruster control surfaces. “This is Reaper One declaring an eme
rgency. Anyone in range, I need help!” Perhaps it is my time to die and meet God. The thought was calming and allowed him to maintain focus on trying to dodge the ever-increasing clumps of plasma balls flung at his craft. The realization that this was it swept over Amir, even as he jinked wildly with random yaws and rolls.
“Attention League pilots. This is Captain Natara Amir, leading a flight of forty-eight space superiority fighters. Break off your attack, or we will destroy you. This is your only warning.”
So focused on evading the enemy, Amir hadn’t noticed the approaching groups of friendly small craft. It took him a moment to realize the voice was that of his daughter. Elation coursed through him. Almost immediately, the pursuing League fighters peeled off with a high-speed roll maneuver and accelerated away from him. He took a moment to thank Allah for sparing his life before flipping the mic on. “Natara, is that you?” he asked on a private commlink channel.
“Yes, Father. I was worried we’d be too late.”
“I have never been happier to hear your voice.”
Natara chuckled. “At least you’re in one piece.”
“More or less. I think this Phantom has probably had it.” Amir laughed. “They can put it on my bill.” He caught a breath. “Is your mother safe?”
“She is, Father. I never expected to see you again.” There was joy in her voice. “But Allah has guided us together and delivered a victory.”
Amir found himself nodding in his cockpit. He had no explanation beyond divine intervention for any of them surviving—much less the surrender of the League fleet. “Allu Ackbar, indeed, my daughter.”
“Would you like to take the lead position, sir?”
He could feel her smile and pride across kilometers of open space. “It would be an honor.”
“We’re ready for you.”
Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven Page 26
