by CJ Williams
The Bakkui, by contrast, were in irregular clumps, some of them spread out, others very close together. Luke liked the tightly packed clumps. It made the targeting easier and his missiles would be much more effective. Idly he considered it was strange that the human forces were in a perfect alignment for battle while the mechanized, AI-controlled Bakkui were totally haphazard in their approach to combat.
The Alliance’s precise formation was a crucial factor for accurately detecting the gravity wakes of the ships ahead. Several officers had explained the theory behind the LIGO detectors to Luke, but it always flew over his head. It worked, that was enough for him.
Eventually George made the announcement that everyone had been waiting for. “All enemy vessels targeted and missile launch times calculated for scheduled target impacts. You may fire when ready.”
Luke glanced at Elaine. “This is your command,” he told her matter-of-factly. “You make the call.” He was determined to be an observer this time, instead of stepping all over her orders.
She smiled at his comment and took a deep breath. “All ships, commence firing.”
It was anti-climactic. The screen did not change. There was no rush of rocket trails streaking away from the Lulubelle, like they did in the past. Luke commented idly, “We really should put a flaming exhaust on our weapons. I kind of miss seeing them.”
Elaine gave him a puzzled look. “Sir?”
“Nevermind.” His new officers had not experienced the early battles when detonations from nuclear warheads lit up the heavens. You knew you scored a hit when the bad guy blew up into a million pieces in a blinding explosion.
Alliance missiles would still shred the Bakkui warships, but unless there was an anomaly, the visual from this distance was less than inspiring.
George announced the updated countdown. “Time to first impact sixteen minutes and counting. We are firing additional salvos every thirty seconds.”
The timer on the display changed to the new milestone.
“How many missiles in each salvo, again?” Luke asked.
“From all of our ships, a little over three hundred thousand,” Elaine said. “I calculated it yesterday.”
“That’s a lot of firepower.”
Elaine grinned. “If you multiply that by forty steel rods in each missile it’s over thirteen million projectiles.”
Luke smiled grimly. “It makes me feel like we almost have a chance.”
Sanford unnecessarily called out the time to impact every minute.
At three minutes to impact George said, “First programed delay. All ships cease fire.”
“What does that mean?” Delaney asked.
Sanford explained. “Once our missiles strike the targets, we assume the remaining Bakkui, hopefully fewer than before, will change course. We need to get new position information before pressing the attack.”
Luke’s simulations had included a variety of potential scenarios after the first strike. From here on, Alliance forces would stop braking to more quickly close the final gap between the friendly and hostile spacecraft. Once they caught up, the engagements would devolve into ship-to-ship battles.
Sanford counted down the last ten seconds. At zero, everyone looked through the window at the dark space ahead. Nothing changed.
For two minutes, there were no indications they had scored a hit on their targets. Then Belle spoke.
“Shields. Activated.”
Flashes of orange light appeared thousands of feet in front of Lulubelle where bits of metal began bouncing off her shields.
“Pay attention,” Luke said. “We’re being struck by battle debris before we see the Bakkui. That means they accelerated or changed course. The ships we blew up are coasting now. They’re not accelerating or decelerating. That’s what is hitting us.”
The amount of strikes against the shields was informative in itself.
“We certainly hit them hard,” Elaine observed.
“Recalculating,” George said. “We are searching for changes in the gravity wakes.”
Lulubelle’s shields began to flash dramatically from repeated impacts. The speckled orange peppering amplified into bright yellow splashes. As each fragment hit an Alliance shield, it disintegrated into subatomic particles that glowed fiercely with released energy, highlighting the outline of the protective barrier.
“All ships reporting the same phenomenon,” Elaine said.
The strikes intensified into brilliant torches of white hot flame that made the entire shield crackle with energy. The bridge’s flooring began to vibrate from the beating.
“Approaching shield limits,” George said neutrally.
“What?” Luke exclaimed. That was a warning he had never heard.
“Approaching shield limits,” the AI repeated without emotion.
“Adjust course thirty degrees in elevation!” Luke ordered. “Get us out of the debris path! All ships acknowledge.”
“Adjusting course,” George acknowledged.
“Will that be enough to—” The forward shields suddenly became transparent once again.
“Status!” Luke demanded.
“One hundred Raiders lost,” George replied. “Plus seventeen Mustangs with all crew. Also, I lost the track of the Bakkui force.”
“Get it back, but don’t get us creamed in the process.”
“Acknowledged,” George said. “To do so, I must redeploy our forces in a much wider pattern. I assume that the Bakkui have changed their direction.”
“Do whatever you have to,” Luke said. “Reconnaissance, any word on our damage to the Bakkui?”
“Nothing specific,” Sanford said. “Obviously, we had a significant impact on their armada, but I need their gravity wakes to get a new count.”
Luke felt a pair of eyes on him and turned to Elaine. She was looking at him with raised eyebrows.
“I don’t know who has command of this ship,” she said plainly. “I am guessing that would be you.”
“You have the ship,” Luke said formally, relinquishing Lulubelle to her control. He had done it again; inadvertently taken command. I have to quit that, he thought. If nothing else it was a bad example…and a bit embarrassing.
“I have command,” Elaine said a bit acerbically. “George, continue your search for the gravity wakes. You may expand the wheel as required, but keep all forces in our spoke formation. Are there any ships that can’t keep up?”
“Fourteen vessels are falling back due to damage.”
“Human or droid?”
“Three human-crewed Mustangs, the rest are Raiders.”
“Very well. Assign a Phantom to rendezvous with the disabled Mustangs and take on their personnel. When complete, have it return to Haiyanas. Once the humans are safe, give a self-destruct command to all disabled ships.”
“Acknowledged, Captain.”
Luke suddenly realized he had lost situational awareness. Were they accelerating or decelerating? It was embarrassing not to know. George saved him from having to ask.
“Captain, I suggest we decelerate at once to avoid accidentally winding up in front of the Bakkui. Until we reacquire their gravity wakes, we are vulnerable to a reattack.”
“Do it,” Elaine replied crisply. “Find the enemy wake and begin after-battle actions. Assign five Starfighters to search for survivors.”
“Acknowledged.”
“They should not try to rejoin with our force. Tell them to return home once they finish their search.”
“Acknowledged,” George said again.
Elaine looked over at Luke. “Any suggestions, Commander,” she asked respectfully. “I apologize for being snippy.”
Luke waved off her apology. “I can’t think of anything at the moment. I hope we can reacquire their track.”
“I’ve got something,” Sanford said. “We have a gravity wave diverging from the original path.” His voice was uncertain.
“But?” Elaine prompted.
“It’s too small. It couldn’t
be many ships. I can’t tell if they split up or if this is all that’s left.”
“Don’t be optimistic,” Luke quietly cautioned Elaine.
“Analysis, George?” she called out.
“The diverging gravity wake inclines to the left of our flight path. I suspect they are an isolated group of survivors. I believe the main force would be to our right and below our current track.”
“Adjust course accordingly,” Elaine said. “What is your best guess on numbers of the diverging craft?”
“Several hundred,” George answered. “Perhaps less.”
Elaine raised her eyebrows at Luke.
“I’d send a squadron,” he suggested.
“Assign the 21st squadron to chase the departing hostiles. If the Bakkui are returning to their own territory, the Gamblers can stop following and set a course to Mauga. Otherwise they should try to follow, but not, repeat, do not engage. The Bakkui may be taking a roundabout route to the Mauga system. If they intend to join up with the main force, we’ll fight them all together.”
“Message sent,” George said.
Sanford called out, “I found the gravity wake of the main force. Standby, I’m getting numbers.”
“This could take a while,” Luke said. “We might find ourselves in a repetitive attack; a war of attrition.”
Elaine nodded. “As long as we’re on the winning side, I can live with that.”
“I have them,” Sanford said. “I estimate the force is half the size it was. That’s not bad for the first engagement.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sanford. George, began targeting.”
“Targeting is complete, Captain,” George replied ten minutes later. “It may not be as accurate as our first volley, but it will do some damage as we close.”
“Fire,” Elaine said in a neutral voice.
She’s doing a great job, Luke thought to himself. The only way to wage war was with a cool mind and complete objectivity. He should sit back and watch her take care of the battle.
A quick flash on the left of the screen caught his eye.
“Full reverse thrust!” Luke shouted without thinking. “Fire all missiles to our rear.”
Lulubelle flipped a one-eighty and groaned with the strain.
“There!” Luke said pointing at a massive Bakkui ship that was actually visible because of its size. “You have the hammer, George. Use nukes. Don’t even try normal missiles.”
“Firing now,” George replied.
Luke turned to Elaine. “I’ve seen a ship like that before,” he said. “We have to take it out.”
The Bakkui battleship was enormous, almost two miles in length. Long and roughly cylindrical, it was shaped like an aircraft carrier. Gun emplacements bristled all over its surface and new fighters launched from it in a continuous stream.
Lulubelle maneuvered in all axes; left, right, up and down, all while pummeling the massive vessel with nuclear-tipped missiles. Blinding detonations filled the tactical display. The screen dimmed automatically to maintain a visible image of the battle.
“What is it, Commander?” Elaine asked. “I’ve never seen a ship that big.”
Luke ignored her question. “George, confirm all ships have engaged AI countermeasures.”
“Understood, Commander. Checking at this time.”
“Listen up, everyone,” Luke said. “That is a Level-Two Bakkui or higher. I’m guessing its controlling all Bakkui destroyers.”
George interrupted. “Commander, I am receiving queries from multiple Alliance captains. They are requesting confirmation that you sent a withdrawal message. I replied with a general order to execute Plan B.”
Luke’s mind went blank. What was Plan B?
Elaine saw his expression. “Press the attack for five minutes,” she explained. “And then rejoin to close formation.”
“Right,” Luke muttered. It was his plan for precisely this type of situation; when the enemy might engage in a cyber-attack against the Nobility AIs. I’m not old enough to be having senior moments, he thought.
Bakkui destroyers began to swarm toward their flagship.
“It’s calling for help,” Luke said. “We need support, George. Have all Raiders attack that mother ship. Tell them to use nukes. Big ones.”
“Acknowledged.”
The giant ship suddenly accelerated straight toward Lulubelle. Before Luke could react, George took the ship vertical, barely escaping being crushed like a large chunk of battle debris.
As the gigantic Bakkui battleship zoomed by, Luke felt a tiny tickle in the back of his brain. Without consciously thinking about it, he slammed the door to his mind shut. One of the advantages to not have the same mental control skills as Carrie also meant that he was not susceptible to the Bakkui’s attempted mental strike.
“Don’t let it get away,” Luke said.
“I won’t,” George replied, amazingly deadpanned. Luke felt a momentary thud through the floor of the bridge as Lulubelle launched a simultaneous salvo of all missiles.
Hundreds of Bakkui destroyers began swarming in and George became more engaged in fighting off their attacks than in firing on the massive battleship.
Lulubelle shook violently and gravity shut off momentarily. Luke was standing at the window and grabbed the handrail. It saved him from sprawling on the floor. An angry curse came from Elaine. She had been thrown from her captain’s seat and was now sprawled against the tactical console. She caressed her hand against her chest. The dislocated finger looked painful.
“Get a medic up here,” Luke said.
“On the way,” George replied.
Luke looked out of the window and swore. “Why are we withdrawing?” he demanded.
“I sustained damage in that last blast,” George said. “I am assessing my capability.”
Luke didn’t buy it. Inside George’s digital soul, Luke knew he was a wimp. He never approached the boundaries of his own capabilities unless pushed. “If you can fly, you can fight,” Luke said. “Re-engage!”
“I cannot risk harm to Your Majesty,” George argued. “I have notified—”
The display screen almost whited out when a small sun blossomed where the massive ship had been. The fireball expanded quickly and shot out multiple coronal-like ejections with huge loops of fire erupting from the center.
“The question is moot,” George said with satisfaction. “It appears one of our Raiders was successful.”
“I’ll say,” Luke replied, eyeing the brilliant incandescence as it faded into dying embers.
The tight cluster of Bakkui destroyers near the battleship vanished in the explosion. More Alliance Raiders arrived, firing point blank on the remaining hostiles. The now defunct Level-Two AI had outfoxed himself by calling his fighters into such a narrow space. It turned most of them into proverbial fish in a barrel.
The Raider fire was merciless. Luke was about to tell George to withdraw to avoid a possible errant nuke from his own fighters when Elaine re-engaged.
“George, put more distance between us and the battle. Update the tactical display and began diagnostics. I want to know what damage we sustained.” She was back in her seat, holding her arm to one side while a medic from the onboard ground troops attended to her injured finger.
“Acknowledged,” George replied.
“And give me updated numbers,” Elaine added. “How much damage have we done to the Bakkui force? Ouch!”
The medic had yanked on her digit, resetting the bone. He quickly taped the injured member to the adjoining finger and then applied an ice wrap. She waved off the offered pain pills and the medic departed.
“Calculating,” George said.
Over the next several minutes Elaine reestablished her control of the Alliance forces. The Bakkui were hurt, but not out of the picture. She redeployed her fleet and Sanford once again found the gravity wake of those who had survived. The chase continued.
Luke took his seat next to Elaine. He was exhausted but she seemed as fresh as a daisy. To
be that young, Luke thought. But then again, maybe not.
After another twelve hours of engagement, disengagement and then re-engagement, George announced the remaining enemy destroyers were not reforming. It seemed they were all taking individual paths to their intended destination.
Elaine glanced at Luke. “I suggest we simply follow one of the groups and see where this leads to. If they form up on the way or even if not until they arrive at the destination, we’ll engage them at that time. I have no recommendation on how to handle our arrival. I think that’s your call.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing for the time being. You’re getting the job done.”
Chapter Sixteen – Grey Storm
I collapsed into Marian’s captain’s chair. Once again, I regretted using the standard Alliance layout for the Starfighter. The bridge included positions for tactical, navigation, and all the rest, but with my new all electronic command, no one sat there. It made the command space seem overly empty, as though the ship was understaffed or still in construction.
I put the thought out of my mind. Aesthetics aside, this was the most capable fleet the Alliance had ever fielded; at least my opinion. My robotic fighters were lean and mean. I named them Reapers because their shape reminded me of the Air Force’s unmanned drones back on Earth.
Their square bulky fuselages had pylon mounted engines. They weren’t stealthy like that monstrosity Carrie had tried to smuggle Annie away with, but that wasn’t their intended purpose.
My Reapers’ only functions were to be silent and deadly, just like their namesake. Each of the fighters carried a dozen launch tubes for guided missiles and had a nose cannon in case they wound up up-close-and-personal with a Grey dreadnought.
The current orbital geometry of the N93 system meant that the Greys would be coming at us from the opposite side of the sun. The question was, would they attack from the clockwise side or counter-clockwise? Making the wrong choice, a fifty-fifty proposition, could be disaster if I guessed wrong.
The system’s close-in planets were in the wrong orbital position to be useful as a staging point. That didn’t leave a lot of options. All I could do was set up defensive positions in deep space with nothing around to provide shelter.
