In their great “V” shaped formations the Pritern craft swept forwards through the hail of pulsar-cannon fire towards the Fourth Fleet, seemingly oblivious to their initial losses. They knew that they had to close the range to be able to return fire. With such numerical superiority, their commanders knew that they could afford to sustain losses. Indeed, the first ten seconds of Alliance fire had seen almost five thousand of their number disappear in roaring balls of flame. The pilots, however, still grimly determined to get through to their targets, now had the added incentive of avenging their fallen comrades to spur them on. The Pritern pilots now confidently fired their high-explosive projectile and laser weapons as they charged into the battle, expecting the numerically smaller Alliance force to wither and perish under their determined assault.
But, it was not to be.
“The enemy have opened fire, Admiral,” the Senior WATO said calmly.
Jarral, watching the War Table image intently, saw the tiny white flashes of weapons fire hurtle towards the Alliance formation.
“For what we are about to receive,” Jarral said to herself quietly, and watched as the Pritern weapons exploded uselessly against the yellow line of the Alliance’s battle-shielding.
“Damage or casualties?” Jarral said slightly too sharply for her own comfort.
“None, Admiral,” a voice from the darkness responded.
The controversial new battle shielding around the Alliance vessels was working, and it easily protected them from the now technologically inferior Pritern weapons. Silently, Jarral Lotharian gave thanks for the Fleet Engineers Corps.
Back on the battlefield, the Pritern pilots were not short on courage, and, despite serious losses, pressed home their attacks. It was brave, even glorious for the Alliance crews to watch; yet, in real military terms, it was pointless. As the Alliance Fire Control Computers impassively calculated and re-calculated the threat potential of each attacking Pritern vessel, hundreds of times every second, they remotely fired the pulsar-cannons maintaining the coordinated flotilla’s firepower. The Alliance pilots and gunners sat safely cocooned in their turrets or cockpits, behind the force shielding, and watched the Fire Control Computers systematically and ruthlessly reduce the brave onrushing Pritern fighters to space debris.
The first wave of Pritern Darts, smashed by the initial salvoes of Alliance gunfire had slowed their initial attack speed to fire their weapons, and consequently, many had been rear-ended by the onrushing second wave. With the first murderous ten seconds over, the survivors of the first and second waves discharged their weapons in a massive volley and continued their attack. On the War Table, Jarral could still see three intact “V” formation waves behind the mixed straggle of the now combined first and second waves. Once again the Fire Control Computers crunched the numbers and worked out the threat permutations sending their targeting and firing data to the pulsar-cannons on the Fire Control Network. Again and again the rapid-fire pulsar-cannons spat death and destruction at the oncoming waves of Pritern fighters as more bolts found targets than those that missed. With such a target-rich environment, as the Senior WATO called it, initial misses often became hits on the waves of fighters behind the intended targets.
Switching to Real View mode on the War Table, Jarral Lotharian could see the hundreds of Pritern fighters being destroyed in small flashes of light in the distance. To Jarral it had always looked like the twinkling of dozens of tiny stars in the clear, frosty night sky. She knew that in reality it was an exploding burning inferno of weapons, fuel, metal and pilot.
Back in Graphic mode, Jarral’s trained professional eye noted that the first and second waves of Pritern fighters were effectively being wiped out. The survivors were being absorbed into the third wave, which was doggedly holding its “V” formation despite the crippling losses it was continuing to sustain.
Time and again, Pritern Darts simply blinked out on the Graphic image. With the first and second waves basically gone, the third wave of Pritern fighters had a clear field of fire at the Alliance ships and began to open up with their weapons.
“They’re opening fire again, Admiral,” the Senior WATO intoned, as Jarral watched the tiniest of white images flash from the noses of the Pritern Dart figures and quickly disappear against the yellow battle shielding icon of the Alliance formation.
“No damage or casualties reported,” the Senior WATO reported to Jarral a few moments later.
This is nothing short of murder, Jarral Lotharian considered as she watched the image of the third wave being struck by relentless and merciless Alliance weapons fire. Within a few minutes these survivors were being absorbed by the fourth Pritern attack wave. She had to acknowledge to herself that these Pritern were brave. However, the courage of the bravest, and the luck of the most fortunate Pritern pilots could not hope to beat the calculations of the Alliance Fire Control Computers.
On the War Table image, Jarral could see that the Pritern assault was gradually disintegrating. The first three waves of Dart fighters had been savagely mauled by the Alliance guns for absolutely no gain. However, the fourth wave pressed onwards, seemingly oblivious to the losses amongst their comrades.
They have to break soon, Jarral thought, as she watched more and more Pritern fighters simply vanish from the War Table image; this is just madness. The fourth wave, having seen all of the previous waves blown remorselessly from the battlefield, were starting to slow their approach ready to release their now hopelessly ineffective weapons.
“Enemy opening fire at extreme range, Admiral,” a Scanner Technician called out as the Pritern fourth wave responded to the Alliance guns.
They want to be away from here, and who can blame them, Jarral thought quietly as she watched another volley of weapons fire dissipate uselessly against the Alliance shielding.
“The last wave of enemy fighters are being ordered to withdraw, Admiral,” the Senior Communications Officer announced just a few seconds before the small Pritern images on the War Table began to veer away from the attack path.
“Flight, see them off, but no heroics mind you!” a relieved Jarral ordered the Senior Flight Officer, who issued the orders to the Eagle and Crusader squadrons.
As one, the Alliance fighters streamed away from their positions behind the yellow line battle shielding and started to pursue the remnants of the Pritern fighters. Over three quarters of the Pritern Dart fighters had been destroyed.
This was nothing short of a disaster for the Pritern. Now, the stunned and beaten Pritern pilots could see the small enemy fighter craft streaming towards them to give chase.
The Pritern disaster was about to turn into a panic-stricken rout.
With great whoops of delight the Alliance fighter crews had set off in pursuit of more blood. They had sat safely behind the battle shielding; that no one other than Jarral Lotharian had believed would work, and watched their enemies being slaughtered. Now, free from that restriction, they could hunt down and kill their defeated enemies. This was what the Eagle and Crusader fighter craft had been designed for.
On her War Table, Jarral watched silently as the fifth wave of Pritern fighters turned almost simultaneous backward rolls and righted themselves to form an almost perfect alignment in a new “V” formation that was heading back towards the Spinning Top mother ships. Meanwhile, their colleagues in the fourth wave sped on to engage the now numerically superior Alliance fighters. The fourth wave was being sacrificed in an attempt to protect the remaining fighters of the fifth wave.
It took the much faster Eagles and Crusaders less than a minute to reach the gallant Pritern rearguard. When contact was made, the Eagles and Crusaders fell upon the Pritern Dart fighters like a pack of hungry wolves. The Pritern rearguard fighters, already outnumbered, were vulnerable, being out of any semblance of formation. Bravely, the outnumbered Pritern began to engage the Alliance fighters, trying desperately to protect their comrades from the great horde of pursuers.
On her War Table, Jarral saw groups of Eagl
es lunge into the attack on the remaining Pritern rearguard and engage in the more than familiar twisting, turning, scratching and snarling dogfights that were the domain of the single-seat fighter pilots. The isolated personal battles between Darts and Eagles raged for several minutes, but were over all too quickly, with only one inevitable outcome. The brave Pritern Darts were simply wiped out in a few short minutes of brutal combat in the one-sided battle.
For the first time in this battle, Alliance Eagles were also being destroyed and pilots killed in the tumbling free-for-all.
“Fourth enemy wave destroyed,” the WATO announced calmly, as if reading the daily situation report.
“Keep up the pursuit, WATO, but do not engage their Mother Ships,” Jarral warned as she saw the escaping fifth wave increasing the gap from the pursuing fighters.
The experienced commander in Jarral Lotharian knew that sometimes victorious troops could over extend themselves in situations like this. The Eagle and Crusader pilots had to maintain discipline, or more lives would be lost than was strictly necessary.
“Understood, Admiral,” the WATO responded.
“Admiral, they’re running!” a Scanner technician shouted.
With their rearguard wiped out, and being hotly pursued by the Alliance Eagles, the fleeing Pritern fifth wave pilots, who only minutes before had flung themselves so courageously at the Alliance formation, now panicked. The superior speed and performance, of the Eagles and Crusaders had rapidly devoured the distance between the two formations. Faced with the frightening prospect of being overtaken and engaged by the victorious Alliance fighters, the retreating Pritern finally broke in the face of the Alliance pursuit.
On the War Table image, Jarral Lotharian saw the proud conquering formation of Pritern became a panic-stricken mob. The Pritern formation broke and ran for the safety of their mother ships. The Alliance pilots were too intoxicated by their easy victory to stop this fight. Again and again, the pulsar-cannons of the Eagles and Crusaders sprayed white-hot death and destruction into the fleeing Pritern fighters. There was no challenge or resistance being offered now by the Pritern.
It was simple butchery.
Switching the War Table to Real View mode, Jarral once again marvelled at the sight of so many exploding craft. For the briefest of moments she almost felt pity for the Pritern commander and the brave pilots, but, just as swiftly, she dismissed the feeling. There was a job at hand. The Fourth Fleet was charged with holding the Pritern at bay from the Traing, and she would let no emotion interfere with that mission.
Now that the battle was over, the killing had to stop.
“Flight, that’s enough, call them back,” Jarral ordered and, having seen enough pointless killing for this particular battle, finally brought the rout to a conclusion.
“Aye, ma-am,” the Senior Flight Officer responded from the darkness of a sombre War Room.
“There, but for the grace of God,” Jarral said softly to herself, remembering another of the phrases she had heard the First Admiral use, as she watched the last of the Pritern fighters scurry back to their mother-ships.
Of the twenty-two thousand fighters in five magnificent waves that had flung themselves against the Alliance formation, less than eight hundred would return to their hangars aboard the Spinning Tops.
“WATO, have the fighters and gunships secure the flanks of the Pritern formation,” Jarral ordered.
A small contingent of Eagles and Crusaders would station themselves just out of Defence Gun range on the flanks of the Pritern Fleet. Thus, if the Pritern decided to launch any further attacks or attempt any manoeuvre beyond retreating from this battlefield, then the Alliance fighters would give them a response just as bloody and destructive as the previous ten minutes.
“and call the rest back!” Jarral added.
The Eagle and Crusader pilots, eager to inflict more damage on the Pritern, were complaining loudly through the communications network. Jarral Lotharian was not having these pilots throw their lives, and vessels, away, needlessly challenging the Spinning Top mother ships.
It was a stand-off. That was what the First Admiral wanted.
“Your move, General,” Third Admiral Jarral Lotharian, staring at the stand-off on her War Table, said softly to her invisible opponent aboard the Pritern flagship.
She smiled wolfishly.
Chapter 5
Third Admiral Argun Bettayam prowled silently and impatiently around the cavernous War Room of the Star Destroyer Colossus. He wanted to get into battle; he wanted to prove he was still the best at what he did. Around Bettayam’s War Room, the Staff Officers stood nervously, unsure of what violent outbursts would spring from the highly temperamental second-in-command of Third Fleet. Some shuffled their feet in their anxiety, whilst the others just did their best to avoid his gaze or attract his attention.
Argun Bettayam was a Cerador, and possessed the short, squat, powerful physique that made them ideal candidates for the elite Landing Trooper Brigades. He also had the Cerador’s sharp, angular features on his pale grey face with dark eyes, the smallest of ears, a sharply hooked nose, and swept-back black hair that made him look like a bird of prey. The comparison was extremely apt. Argun Bettayam had the perfect instincts and courage of a predator, though his personal judgement was sometimes an entirely different animal. The three, silver sewn, wound badges and double row of commendations that decorated his Fleet green uniform gave testament to his courage. Every Staff Officer present knew that courage would not be enough for this day’s battle.
“Sir,” the nervous Senior Communications Officer aboard Colossus broke the strained silence of the War Room, “Code word ‘Valkyrie’ received.”
“Thank you, Comms,” the formerly errant wild-child of Third Fleet, Admiral Argun Bettayam said calmly, seated next to his War Table, “make signal ‘Odin’ to the flagship, and ‘Thor’ to the flotilla,” the unusually calm Bettayam ordered.
In the War Room of the Colossus, the Staff Officers stood silently for the two minutes it took the generators to power up the enormous energy-hungry Trion Drive. They wondered how the unpredictable, yet, somehow, changed Third Admiral was going to behave in combat. Their mission was relatively simple, yet it would require a degree of subtlety and finesse that Third Admiral Argun Bettayam was not usually known for. It was a simple decapitation strategy that the First Admiral required. Third Fleet was to by-pass the Pritern fleet by entering the Trionic Web and be catapulted to the planet of Priteria. There, they were to overpower the defences, force the Government to capitulate and order the withdrawal of the Pritern fleet from the Traing rendezvous at the last possible moment.
As the officers stood silently, the Engineers began generating the huge Trion fields that would allow the vessels to enter the Trionic Web. The physics of instantaneous travel in the Trionic Web were absurdly simple. Trions, the fundamental particle of the universe, resonated at different frequencies at different locations throughout the universe. Generate a field of Trions around the vessel that resonated at the same frequency as the desired location, and the ship would be instantaneously drawn there through the Trionic Web.
It could, theoretically, take a vessel less than a second to go from one end of the universe to the other.
A few minutes later the flotilla emerged from the Trionic Web, with the blinding flashes that indicated the controlled collapse of the all-enveloping Trion field.
Due to the unpredictability of the Trionic Web, which swirled and eddied like the tides and currents of the ocean, the Alliance flotilla emerged almost one hundred thousand kilometres away from the planet. Despite the technological advances of the Alliance, the unpredictability of the Trionic Web still required Ship Commanders to emerge at considerable distances from each other to prevent collisions. With the ships safely clear of the Trionic Web, the mission required that the vessels travel in Stealth Mode for their approach to the target.
Bettayam sat beside the War Table, outwardly calm, but inwardly as excited as a Jun
ior Troop Officer on his first combat mission. Below the Colossus, the curve of the planet Priteria stretched out; the dark yellow, ochre and pale brown continental landmasses framed by deep emerald green oceans. High in the atmosphere, the pale grey wispy clouds gave some protection from the harsh burning sun and the vicious radiation tides that swept the area.
“Activate the War Table and open a face-to-face Comm-link to the surface, please,” Bettayam ordered his Senior Communications Officer.
A moment later, the War Room was plunged into darkness. From the surface of the heavily illuminated War Table a three dimensional life-sized image of the head and shoulders of a blue-uniformed Pritern Officer appeared.
“What is the meaning of this!? What are you doing here!? Where did you come from!?” the startled and enraged Pritern Officer blustered.
Around the startled officer, the Control Room of the Priteria Planetary Defence Command was in panicked turmoil. The appearance of Bettayam’s flotilla had come as a massive shock to the Pritern, who had never considered that their home planet would ever be threatened. Now, an Alliance flotilla, with one of their massive Star Destroyers, the great, slab-sided, octagonal spheres that could turn an entire planet to dust in a few moments, had simply appeared out of nowhere. They had evaded the entire Pritern fleet and the numerous satellite-based Outer Defence Lines, that protected the planetary approaches. The Alliance flotilla had now established itself in high orbit around the planet and no one in the Priteria Planetary Defence Command had seen them.
First Admiral 01 First Admiral Page 3
