“Three, two, one, contact, sir,” the Senior WATO intoned.
On the War Table image, it looked like the long lines of Alliance vessels simply turned inwards to their targets and formed a huge narrow front line that fell onto the Traing like wild animals savaging their prey. This was how he had ordered this attack to happen.
The First Admiral needed special tactics to hold the Traing in this particular position. The Crusaders, with the new battle shielding, being larger and less manoeuvrable, were assigned a more static role than their crews were used to. The First Admiral had ordered that the Crusaders, rather than operate independently, be tied to one physical area of the battle. In an operational box, the Crusaders would act as gun platforms to protect the Eagle fighters, and deal with larger Traing vessels.
The independently targeting pulsar-cannons of the Crusaders would be in one fixed area whilst the Eagles did what they were best at, hunting and killing. This would give the Alliance Eagle fighters a massive advantage in the free-for-all.
The first volley from the Alliance fighters was devastating. The Traing vessels closest to the new Alliance attack were swept away in a great maelstrom of fiery death and destruction. The great double-pincer swept forwards and launched into the Traing horde.
The Traing front ranks, meanwhile, were still confident of victory, despite mounting losses and pressed home their own attack on the formation of large Alliance vessels, ignorant of the impending disaster that was unfolding behind them.
On the War Table the First Admiral watched silently as the Alliance squadron formations smashed into the centre of the Traing formation. Huge numbers of Traing vessels simply vanished from the War Table image as the explosive low-yield pulsar-bolts from the Alliance Eagles and Crusaders swept aside the unfortunate Traing vessels in their direct path. However, after the initial shock of the attack, the Traing vessels in the centre of the formation began to fight back. The initial advances made by the Alliance fighters into the bulk of the Traing formation were slowed down and halted by the courageous and defiant Traing pilots.
The Voice-Comms traffic, from the already excited Eagle pilots, broke through the muted silence of the War Room. On the War Table image, the First Admiral began to see Alliance Eagle images vanish as the Traing vessels started to fight back. The First Admiral expected losses from this battle, and the bulk of the losses would be sustained in this attack. Over a broad front the Alliance attack was breaking down into twisting, and snarling, dog-fights.
The Eagles were heavily engaged in the free-for-all that their pilots were trained for. The Crusaders were deploying to their stations within the battle area and were beginning to take their toll on Traing vessels. However, as the First Admiral watched the image on his War Table, more and more Traing vessels were being drawn into the conflict from the rear of their formation against the Eagles and Crusaders who were outnumbered almost four to one.
“How many enemy vessels have we eliminated?” the First Admiral asked clinically after a few minutes of combat.
Like some deadly computer game, the Alliance Tactical Computers had kept a tally of losses from both sides.
“They’ve lost almost a quarter of their original numbers, sir,” the Senior WATO announced impassively recording the deaths of almost fifteen thousand Traing vessels and their crews.
“It’s not enough,” the First Admiral cursed silently, his face a mask of frustration and concern.
This was the gamble he had been compelled to take when he had split his forces. He had to take out a significant number of Traing vessels with the limited forces of his own. Now, it looked like this gamble might misfire. Almost fifteen thousand Traing vessels and crews had already been destroyed. At the centre of the Traing horde, the five thousand Alliance Eagles were locked in a vicious fight with close to twenty thousand more enemy ships. The lead element of the Traing, which numbered almost twenty-five thousand more vessels were being systematically mowed down by the Alliance pulsar-cannons as the battle raged onwards. As he expected, the First Admiral saw the front elements start to pull away from the battle-locked centre and rear of the formation. Twenty-five thousand raiders with a clear run to the large Alliance vessels in formation were just too many.
It was now that the First Admiral decided to take another major risk. The first wave of Alliance fighters were still locked in vicious combat with the Traing in the centre of their formation. The second wave of Alliance fighters had just formed up and was heading for their waiting stations.
“Launch the second attack wave,” the First Admiral ordered.
This was the attack wave that the First Admiral had planned to use to drive the lead elements of the Traing horde back into the main body when they began to retreat. Now, he had to commit these last fighters into a battle to prevent the Traing passing through the Alliance positions and scattering towards an undefended Maltor. It was going to be up to the small fighter craft to keep the Traing away from the larger Alliance craft. The three thousand Alliance fighters were going to be horribly outnumbered in the fight. They were going to have to face a Traing formation almost eight times more numerous than themselves.
“Sir,” came the response from the Senior Communications Officer in the darkness of the War Room.
Marrhus Lokkrien, stationed opposite the First Admiral at the War Table, looked at the Alliance Commander confusedly.
“Sir, it’s too soon for the second attack wave…….,” Lokkrien began to protest quietly.
“Yes, I know,” the First Admiral responded equally softly, staring intently at his Chief of Staff.
Lokkrien saw that the sharp blue-grey eyes of his friend and commander had turned colder than any ice. The First Admiral was entirely focussed on the battle at hand.
There would be no distraction for the First Admiral. Something had gone wrong, Lokkrien knew, and the First Admiral was trying to salvage a dangerous situation.
“The attack codes have been issued, sir,” the Senior WATO announced.
On the War Table image, the Alliance fighters of the second attack swarmed forwards from their waiting stations, through the yellow line of battle shielding, in their squadron formations. With as much as speed they could muster, the Alliance fighters set off in their attack. Closing the range quickly, they launched a great volley of low-yield pulsar-bolts into the front ranks of onrushing Traing vessels, and then plunged into battle.
“Eagles opening fire, sir……..and, contact,” the WATO declared.
What followed was an enormous melee of small vessels dog-fighting in front of the larger Alliance vessels. The great swarm of Alliance fighters snarled between the lead Traing fighters, strafing and firing as they tried desperately to hold down almost eight times their own numbers.
“Cease fire on the pulsar-cannons,” the First Admiral ordered calmly.
Despite the need to take out as many Traing vessels as possible, the possibility of hitting Alliance fighters was too great for the First Admiral to maintain the barrage from the pulsar-cannons aboard the Star-Cruisers.
“But keep the self-defence gunners on alert for any enemy fighters that approach the Fleet,” Marrhus Lokkrien added.
On the War Table the First Admiral was now fighting two battles. The Traing from the centre of their formation were still locked in combat with the first Alliance attack wave. The rear elements of the Traing had now joined, leaving the five thousand Alliance fighters outnumbered about seven to one. Whilst, in front of the large Alliance warships, the lead formations of Traing vessels were now being engaged by a hugely outnumbered fighter formation that should have been held in reserve for the pursuit. The First Admiral had been forced to commit his forces, and now he simply had to wait and let the soldiers decide the outcome.
Silently, the First Admiral split the image on the War Table to watch both battles unfold.
For almost five agonising minutes the Traing and Alliance fighter craft fought with each other in the vicious close quarter combat. The evenly matched small
er vessels dodged across the two battlefields trying to gain an edge on their opponents, which would allow them to deliver the killing stroke. The larger Crusaders performed superbly in their gunship role, successfully dispatching any of the larger Traing vessels that they found straying into their designated zones in the free-for-all.
As the Alliance Staff Officers nervously watched the two battles unfold, the First Admiral knew that the outcome was far from guaranteed. The vulnerable Eagle squadrons were now taking a mauling. It was these losses that concerned the First Admiral. If the Alliance Eagles were decimated, then any attempted breakout from the First Admiral’s trap by the Traing simply could not be contained.
With incredible skill, the First Admiral manipulated the images on his War Table to monitor and control the battles. From the depths of the War Room he could follow individuals or groups of fighters in three-dimensional Graphic and Real View mode as they weaved through the carnage, confusion and mayhem of these epic one-on-one fighter dogfights. Again and again, the superior training, experience and discipline of the Alliance pilots eventually prevailed sending the Traing crews to oblivion in a roaring ball of flame. However, the Alliance losses were starting to show. There were just too many Traing vessels for the badly outnumbered Alliance fighters to deal with.
Slowly, and gradually the brave Alliance Eagle pilots in front of the Alliance fleet were being overwhelmed. The First Admiral had to think of something, quickly, or his entire strategy would fall apart.
“Order Admiral Bettayam to bring every available fighter to this location,” the First Admiral ordered his Chief of Staff.
“Sir,” responded the ever loyal Marrhus Lokkrien, “do you wish Bettayam to abandon Priteria?”
Lokkrien had seen his close friend and commander win in some very tight situations, but he had never seen the First Admiral so concerned about the outcome of a battle before. There was a great deal at stake around Maltor, and the First Admiral was determined not to lose.
“No, the Priteria operations are to continue,” the First Admiral responded decisively, “we can hold them here until they withdraw the Pritern Fleet and bring in support from Fourth Fleet”.
“Sir,” the highly efficient Lokkrien responded in acknowledgement.
“Ask Admiral Lotharian to prepare to bring the Fourth Fleet to this location and launch all available fighters when the Pritern Fleet is withdrawn,” the First Admiral ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Lokkrien replied, “but it will take us around thirty minutes to deploy those fighters, sir,” the Chief of Staff warned.
“Unacceptable, Second Admiral,” the First Admiral responded bluntly, using Lokkrien’s formal rank, “I want them here in less than ten,” he emphasised the severity of the situation, “bring the fighters they have aboard their ships immediately, order the recall of the Pritern and then bring everything to this location as soon as possible.”
“Sir,” Lokkrien snapped to attention and disappeared into the gloom of the War Room to issue his instructions to Jarral Lotharian.
Still watching the unfolding battles with growing unease, the First Admiral stared grim-faced at the two images on his War Table.
“WATO, casualties in second attack?” the First Admiral asked.
“We’ve lost just over fifteen percent of our Eagles, sir,” the senior WATO announced nervously.
This was a heavy rate of loss for such a short duration of battle. This was not the news that the First Admiral wanted to hear. Over four hundred Eagles was too many in the First Admiral’s mind. He had calculated on roughly half those numbers.
“And their losses WATO?” the First Admiral asked.
“Over five thousand since the first attack wave was launched,” the Senior WATO replied calmly.
“That’s over a ten to one in a kill-ratio, sir, and we’ve destroyed a quarter of their ships” Marrhus Lokkrien added hopefully, reappearing at the War Table.
In military terms it was a very valid point. The tactic of static Crusaders supporting the Eagles was paying dividends in terms of Traing losses. Still, Alliance Eagle losses were still too high for the First Admiral’s liking. The kill rate may have been ten to one in the early stages, but as the Alliance Eagle pilots kept fighting, under severe stress, and began to tire and make mistakes, that rate would decrease significantly.
“Sir, we have elements of Third Fleet exiting the Trionic Web,” the Senior Scanner Officer announced from the darkness.
“Time to this location?” the First Admiral asked.
“Two minutes, sir” the Senior Scanner Officer replied.
“How big a contingent from Third Fleet?” the First Admiral asked
“One Carrier and twelve Star-Cruisers sir,” the Senior Scanner Officer replied.
“That’s around six hundred fresh Eagles and another one hundred and fifty Crusaders, sir,” Lokkrien said calmly.
“That’ll do!” the First Admiral announced confidently, rubbing his hands together, “Order them to launch into the second attack wave area.”
“Sir,” came the response from the Senior WATO, who began the complex calculations for integrating the fighter control patterns into the existing battle.
“Order Admiral Bettayam to withdraw the Pritern Fleet back to their bases,” the First Admiral ordered.
This was a move that the First Admiral had wished to make when the battle with the Traing was turning in his favour to finally crush their morale. Now, it would be more a matter of desperation in hopes of breaking their fighting spirit, to save his beleaguered fighters. It was yet another gamble, and the First Admiral was beginning to feel that he was losing control of this battle.
“Sir, the Pritern Fleet are disengaging from their position in front of Fourth Fleet,” Marrhus Lokkrien reported triumphantly.
Looking over to his left, the First Admiral saw the white Pritern icons begin to move away from the blue Alliance ships on the View Screen.
On the two War Table images, the hideous scrimmage continued as the Eagles darted amongst the huge mass of Traing vessels. With the lead elements of their formation engaged, the savage battle with the centre of the Traing formation was slowly closing in.
“Sir, Third Fleet reports fighters launched and ready to attack,” the Senior WATO reported.
“Excellent,” the First Admiral responded, and silently congratulated Argun Bettayam, “feed them into the battle from the vicinity of Star Cruisers Defiant, Sherman, Lancer and Midway,” he indicated the four Alliance Star Cruisers closest to the violent scrimmage with the orange highlight circle on the War Table image.
“Sir,” responded the Senior WATO.
Seven hundred and fifty fresh fighters would be enough to swing the balance, or so the First Admiral hoped, or at least stabilise the situation until Fourth Fleet arrived. From the left of the War Table image, the new Alliance fighter formation swept forwards into the turning melee of the huge conflict that was unfolding in front of the large Alliance warships.
To the First Admiral, the War Table image of this third attack wave appeared to be absorbed into the great tornado of the battle for Maltor like a drop of water into blotting paper. For long painful minutes the First Admiral watched silently as Bettayam’s fighters broke into the horrible carnage in front of the Alliance fleet. For several more agonising minutes it appeared as if the fresh reinforcements had made little or no impact. The swirling mass of fighters, exploding ships and flashes of weapons seemed simply to consume the reinforcing fighters.
This isn’t going to work, the First Admiral thought darkly, his eyes transfixed by the tragedy of combat and destruction.
Then, just as he was about to surrender the hope of holding the Traing in his trap, the first, almost imperceptible, sign that the battle was swinging in his favour appeared. The great maelstrom of combat seemed to stop twisting towards the battle line of the Alliance fleet.
“Sir!” a Scanner Officer called excitedly from the darkness, “the enemy advance has stopped!”
&nb
sp; The conflict still seemed to be raging with savage ferocity, but the forward momentum towards the Alliance fleet seemed to have been stopped. The battle, though still vicious, was becoming static. The second Alliance attack wave, reinforced by Bettayam’s fighters, had halted the progress of the Traing lead elements, and the two hideous clashes were slowly joining up to form one huge melee. Like two massive vortices, the twisting skirmishes were slowly drifting towards each other on the War Table.
The Eagles and Crusaders were locked in the most brutal dance of death with the Traing that many Alliance officers had ever seen. By their sheer tenacity, courage and skill, they were having the effect of driving the Traing away from the large Alliance warships. Within a few minutes of savage combat, the combined Alliance and Traing formations were engaged on one huge single battlefield.
The First Admiral was now able to view the combat in its horrifying entirety on his War Table once again. What he was viewing, he didn’t like. The Alliance Eagles were fighting desperately to hold the Traing vessels at bay in the great snarling confrontation. The enemies jinked and weaved as they fought to destroy each other. The Alliance fighter squadron formations had broken into the free-for-all fray.
“Fourth Fleet reports ships entering Trionic Web,” a Communications technician called out.
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” the First Admiral announced more aggressively than he had previously at the news of impending reinforcements.
On the War Table, the tumbling mass of the battle was moving slowly away from the formation of large Alliance vessels. The First Admiral’s plan was starting to fall back into shape again. Seeing the Pritern Fleet disengage, the surviving Traing captains finally realized that there was no hope of making the pre-arranged rendezvous. The arrival of Alliance reinforcements made it imperative, in the minds of the Traing leaders, to get away from the battlefield before more Alliance fighters appeared. The Traing captains, as the First Admiral had predicted, reverted to their individual initiatives. It now became a fight for escape and self-preservation.
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