First Admiral 01 First Admiral

by William J. Benning

  Aboard the Aquarius, the First Admiral stood calmly, arms folded, at his War Table and saw the Traing begin to disengage from the great dog-fighting scrum in the centre of the image.

  It was difficult to spot the initial breakdown of the Traing in the great melee, but, the First Admiral’s trained and experienced eye spotted the first of the Traing fighters trying to break away from the attentions of their pursuing Eagles.

  “Enemy ships starting to disengage, sir” a Scanner technician confirmed what the First Admiral had already noticed.

  For the first of the Traing would-be escapers it was a fatal manoeuvre. Moving from the sharp manoeuvres of the battle to a more straight-line course made them much easier targets for the Eagles and Crusaders to strike down. This was the critical phase, the First Admiral thought to himself, relieved that the Traing horde had finally broken.

  “Sir,” the Senior Communications Officer announced excitedly, “Squadron leaders reporting that he enemy are breaking - and running!”

  A half-hearted cheer arose from the technicians and officers in the darkness of the War Room, which Marrhus Lokkrien quickly silenced with a single barked command. This battle wasn’t over, and Lokkrien was aware that the technicians and officers needed to focus on what would be the most significant phase of the battle, the pursuit.

  “Fourth Fleet reports safely emerged from Trionic Web,” the Communications technician called out excitedly, “will be at our location in two minutes, sir!”

  Still intently focussed on the image of the scattering tornado that was the battle, the First Admiral heard the hyper-excited Alliance pilots screaming that the Traing were breaking and requesting permission to pursue and destroy. The First Admiral nodded silently to the eagerly expectant Communications Officer; who quickly relayed that assent to the Alliance pilots. The Traing ships were fleeing in all directions, being pursued by the faster and more agile Eagle fighters and their Crusader gunship supports. However, the vast majority of Traing vessels were trying to make a run for the Badlands, back the way they had come. This was why the First Admiral had stationed Nerla Daelstar and her Crusaders, in stealth mode, behind the Traing.

  The Traing were breaking, the battle was won, but would it be the decisive final victory that the First Admiral needed?

  It was now up to Nerla Daelstar.

  Chapter 8

  Like hunting dogs released from straining at the leash, the surviving Alliance fighters set off in pursuit of the fleeing Traing vessels. They were eager to mete out punishment on their fleeing adversaries. It had been a hard and savage battle, and many Eagle pilots felt they had scores to settle for their fallen comrades in arms.

  It had started almost imperceptibly with one or two Traing vessels breaking away from the thousands of individual dogfights; a combination of naked self-preservation and outrage at the perceived Pritern betrayal. The ones and twos became groups of ten or more which swelled to hundreds and within a few minutes the survivors of the entire Traing formation were disengaging as best they could from their life and death struggles with the Alliance fighters. It was becoming a pell-mell flight from the battlefield for the Traing, who had lost almost half their original numbers since the headlong rush towards the large Alliance vessels had begun.

  It was at that moment, when the Traing Fleet broke and headed for what they thought was safety that Nerla Daelstar snapped the trap closed.

  Aboard the Alliance Crusader Class Gunship Lionheart, First Squadron Commander Nerla Daelstar had watched the battle unfold with growing frustration and anger. Nerla, ever eager to get into a fight, had sat in stealth mode behind the attacking Traing and had waited for instructions from the First Admiral aboard the flagship Aquarius. She had waited for the orders to drop out of stealth and spring the trap that would catch the thousands of surviving Traing vessels before they could scamper back to the safety of their numerous secret lairs in the Badlands.

  “Flagship advises flotilla to stand by,” the Comms Tech aboard Lionheart announced.

  “Very well Comms,” Nerla acknowledged the short, stocky Mibbian named Toras Ral, who had been her Communications Technician for almost seven months now, “put the flotilla on standby.”

  Traditionally, the Comms Tech was the most junior rank aboard the Alliance Crusader. Except for the most special of cases, every crew member who joined a Crusader gunship began their career as the Comms Tech to gain an insight into how the systems worked and operated.

  “WATO, make sure your targeting systems are fully functioning, we have to make sure that every pulsar-bolt counts out there” Nerla ordered her Weapons and Tactical Officer.

  “Aye, ma-am,” came the sharp crisp military response from the WATO in the recessed console in the floor of the Command Cabin over to Nerla’s far left.

  The WATO aboard Lionheart was a Corrollian by the name of Lentis Bulvass. Like most Corrollians he was a nitrogen breather and depended upon the Personal Environment Suit to function in the mainly oxygen-rich environments in which the vast majority of Alliance personnel operated. Lentis Bulvass was typical for a Corrollian. His short cropped blond hair, with very pale, almost waxy white, skin, gave him the appearance of something angelic, which belied his typically Corrollian aggressiveness. The sharp, almost crystal blue eyes, designed for the snow covered surface of Corrollias, stood on top of a broad flat nose and full, yet pale blue lips. Those same blue eyes were highly attuned to subtle differences in colour, shape or form and made Corrollians extremely good marksmen and experts at picking out targets in the darkness of the depths of space.

  “Navigator, get ready, they’re breaking so be prepared for them to go anywhere,” she ordered her Navigator who was stationed in the clear hemisphere built into the roof of the Lionheart which was known affectionately as The Pit.

  “Aye-aye, skipper,” came the familiar voice of the Navigator from the platform that held the low-backed seat up in the ceiling of the Lionheart.

  The Navigator aboard the Lionheart was a Mithrades who went by “Skull”. His real name was U’lai’o Dannburr. He acquired the moniker “Skull” from the Mithric genetic tendency not to store body fat, or any other form of reserves, over their pronounced skeletal frames. Tall and slight of stature, with skin that was parchment yellow in colour, beneath some fine wispy black hair, Skull had the cadaverous look of an animal that was constantly hungry. His quick wit and powerful sense of humour made him the Joker of the crew, which brought forth his alarmingly toothy smile; which had gained him his nickname.

  Skull, was also, however, the most solid member of Nerla’s crew. For all of his practical jokes and high jinks, when a battle was underway he possessed a clarity of thought and purpose very similar to Jarrel Lotharian. This made the painfully thin Mithric, with jet black eyes, an ideal candidate for Navigator. In the heat of battle Skull was the calmest head in the squadron. Which was the primary reason Nerla had selected him from the hundreds of applicants for the available crew positions when she had become First Squadron Commander.

  “Engineer, are we ready for battle?” she asked her Flight Engineer with a degree of formality she did not use with the rest of her crew.

  “Aye, ma’am, all systems are at optimal functioning level,” came the militarily correct, deep voice of the Flight Engineer.

  An Armoth by the name of Stular Vercasse held the position of Flight Engineer aboard the Lionheart. Like most Armoth, Flight Engineer Vercasse was short, squat and rotund which masked an unusually powerful athletic prowess. The planet Armat was one of unusually high gravity.

  Consequently, the native species of the planet was short, squat and powerful with a very high power to weight ratio. With a pale pink skin and enormous pink eyes that were highly sensitive to light. Those large eyes were a massive boon to Vercasse, giving him extremely accurate vision for the microscopically small, intricate and delicate activities of maintaining and repairing nanocircuitry. He had an attention to detail and orderliness that impressed Nerla almost as much as his dedicatio
n to duty and loyalty to the rest of the crew; that, and the small inconspicuous green and blue ribbon with the gold diagonal bar that he wore on his dress uniform. It was the highest award for bravery in the Universal Alliance Fleet, The President of the Supreme Council’s Commendation for Courage, First Class.

  Looking around the circular Command Cabin of the Lionheart, Nerla Daelstar felt a surge of pride for the crew she had hand-picked and moulded into an effective fighting team. They each had their faults and weaknesses, but these were far outweighed by their talents and skills. Of course, there were times when individually or as a group they drove her to distraction. When the gunfire started, she would rather be with these people than with anyone else in the entire Universal Alliance Fleet.

  Watching the Tactical View Screen in front of her, Nerla could see the remains of the great battle in front of the main Alliance formation. Many of the Traing were still trying to fight their way clear of the twisting tornado of the battle. The farther they retreated from the battle, the less likely they would be to meet their red roaring death and destruction from a Crusader or Eagle pulsar-bolt, or so they thought.

  With a mixture of anxiety and excitement Nerla watched the comma of the battle and pursuit developing in her direction. It was getting closer, not long now until they would be free to start adding their pulsar-cannons to this rout. .

  “Message from Flagship ma’am,” the Comms Tech interrupted Nerla’s thought processes, “Close the trap.”

  “About time!” Nerla announced, slapping her hand against the arm of the Command Chair excitedly.

  With the press of a button, she deployed the small plate on a hydraulic arm from the side of her Command Chair, which whirred and then clicked into place in the horizontal position. This was her Personal Tactical View Screen. It produced a three-dimensional image like the First Admiral’s War Table, except in much smaller scale and limited to the area of battle she had been allocated.

  On her image, Nerla could see the images of her flotilla in a ragged line, ready and waiting for the fleeing Traing vessels. In front of them the fleeing Traing vessels were jinking, dodging and weaving to avoid the attentions of the pursuing Alliance Eagles, whilst at the same time trying to get away to the perceived safety of the Badlands. Now, she was going to snap the trap shut and make the victory decisive for the Alliance.

  There would be glory and promotion for Nerla Daelstar this day. It was so close she could almost taste it. But, first, she had to stop the Traing retreat. So, with a deep breath she focused her mind and issued her commands to the flotilla.

  “Right, Action Stations everyone,” she ordered.

  In the normal activity of the Crusader Class Gunship, the crew would sit at terminals and consoles built into the side walls of the circular command cabin. A semi-circular platform, about eight feet wide, stretched from behind the Command Chair round to the Main View Screen. Along the inner edge of the platform further terminals and consoles allowed the crew members to carry out their designated functions and be able to monitor the Main View Screen. To her far right, Nerla could see the terminals and consoles used by the Flight Engineer, whilst directly to her right the WATO would undertake his duties. To the far left, the Comms Tech worked the communications and scanner equipment. To her near left, was the bay for the Navigator.

  During the call to Action Stations, the WATO, Flight Engineer and Comms Tech would move from the exposed platform bays to the far more secure armoured consoles buried in the deck floor of the Crusader set out in front of the Command Chair. The WATO would initiate the mechanism to open the recesses in the deck floor to allow the crew members to reach their Action Stations. From the recesses in the floor, three consoles with full length couch seats would rise up in front of the Command Chair. When the crew members had taken their seats, they would then individually initiate their Action Station. The couch seat would be drawn forwards towards the various controls of the console which sat on pivoting arms and could be adjusted like hospital bed trays. The entire console would then be taken back down under the level of the Command Cabin deck and the quarter hemisphere blast shield would be raised at the level of the Main Deck.

  The WATO, Comms Tech and Engineer Action Stations were embedded in the floor of the Crusader. However, the Navigator went in the opposite direction from his crewmates. For the Navigator to gain entry to The Pit, they had to sit on the low-backed flight seat that was positioned against the wall to the near left of the Ship’s Commander. During normal flight, the Navigator could operate the terminals and consoles at that bay in the standard issue high-backed seat in front of the main consoles. However, during an Alert or an Action Stations, the low-backed flight seat would be propelled by the extending telescopic arm embedded into the wall and floor of the semi-circular platform up into the ceiling of the Crusader to fit neatly into the octagonal armoured turret that was The Pit.

  Nerla again felt very badly isolated and exposed seated in the Command Chair. However, she understood that the Ship’s Commander had to set an example and also have a clear and unrestricted view of the Main View Screen and the Tactical View Screens located above the consoles on the semi-circular platform. It was the price she paid for command of the Lionheart and now of her own flotilla.

  With her crew at their Action Stations, Nerla began to issue her instructions.

  “Comms, make to flotilla, out of stealth and open fire as targets present,” Nerla ordered.

  “Aye, ma’am,” came the response from the embedded Action Station console to her left.

  “Engineer, get us out of stealth, Navigator, hold her steady, WATO open fire!” Nerla commanded.

  In the blink of an eye two hundred and fifty Crusaders dropped out of stealth mode and appeared in front of the fleeing Traing craft. A heartbeat later, the pulsar-bolts of these new Alliance ships were unleashed in one enormous volley which slammed into the unprotected hulls of the fleeing Traing vessels. Again, hundreds of Traing ships exploded in fiery red blossoms of death in the cold, pitiless vacuum of space. Harried and pursued by the swift and merciless Eagle fighters, the Traing now found their escape blocked by another Alliance formation which had materialised from nowhere. The gunfire from this new formation was just as accurate and deadly as from the Eagles and Crusaders in the battle they were attempting to flee.

  More from desperation than from any hope of causing damage or destruction to the new Alliance fighter formation, the first ranks of retreating Traing opened fire. The Traing captains had swiftly learned that the small Alliance fighters could be destroyed, but that the larger vessels were impervious to their weapons.

  “Incoming weapons fire!” the Comms Tech announced.

  “Engineer, deploy battle shielding,” Nerla ordered hurriedly, cursing herself for not ordering the deployment sooner.

  “Aye, ma’am, shielding deployed,” the deep low voice of the Flight Engineer cut through the growing tension of the Command Cabin.

  She had made a mistake, and the crew had noticed. The tension in the Command Cabin of Lionheart had jumped several notches, and the comfortable silence had changed into something more dangerous and threatening. Nerla had to rescue the situation very quickly before her crew lost confidence in her.

  “Keep the flotilla firing!” Nerla ordered her Comms Tech who passed the instruction to the rest of the Crusaders.

  There, that’s better, she comforted herself watching the images of hundreds of Traing vessels disappear on the Tactical View Screen to her right. She had shown her crew that she was still in command, and focussed on the job at hand. She was not going to foul up this mission, Nerla was absolutely determined. Nerla noticed that the fleeing Traing were getting closer and closer to her firing line. Despite the constant fire from her flotilla taking their toll on the Traing vessels they were still getting uncomfortably close.

  No sooner had she issued the order than the Lionheart was shaken by the massive impact of a Traing weapon strike. With a massive THUD, the Crusader class Gunship Lionheart shoo
k violently under the impact. Nerla, sitting exposed in the Command Chair, felt the bone shuddering impact more keenly than the rest of the crew in their armoured consoles. But, the new battle shielding held firm.

  “Damage?” Nerla quizzed her Flight Engineer nervously.

  “Didn’t even scratch the paint, ma’am,” the deep-voiced Engineer replied.

  “What a shame,” the voice of Skull broke through the growing tension from above, “this battleship grey colour is just so last year, dahling!” he added with a mock effeminate accent.

  “That’s enough, Skull, focus on the job,” Nerla said, stifling a laugh.

  Beyond the Lionheart, the rest of Nerla’s flotilla was taking Traing weapons fire. However, the new battle shielding, that many crews had been more than a little wary of, held firm. To the crews inside the Crusaders, the impact of the Traing weapons fire would be nothing more than a severe jolt and shaking rather than a fatal strike that would send them to a fiery oblivion. From the outside of the Crusader the weapons strike seemed to light up the entire vessel with an eerie yellow glow, for a few moments, before the energy was absorbed by the battle shielding.

  All along the ragged line of Crusaders that made up Nerla Daelstar’s flotilla, ships were lighting up with the same eerie glow of a weapons strike, and sending in reply the hot yellow flashes of pulsar-cannon bolts slashing and hurtling downrange to their targets. It looked like a huge light-flashing fireworks display to Nerla in the Command Chair of the Lionheart.

  Once again the Traing were running into a hail of Alliance gunfire, and in the depths of space hundreds of vessels were exploding and their crews blown to oblivion. The First Admiral had set a trap that was a masterpiece of military strategy and Nerla Daelstar was executing it with clinical precision. To Nerla, a professional soldier, there was no joy or elation or sadness in killing an enemy. It was just a part of her job, and had their positions been reversed, Nerla had no doubt that a Traing captain or warlord would have had no qualms about destroying her and her crew.