First Admiral 01 First Admiral

by William J. Benning

  “Yes, sir,” the WATO replied, “Flight Control, see them off.”

  With great whoops of joy and blood lust from the pilots, Billy released the Eagles from their stations to pursue the surviving Bardomil fighters.

  The hunting dogs were released from their leashes. The Eagles set off in pursuit of even more blood. There was still a wave of two hundred or more Bardomil Harpoons and almost one hundred of the Flying Devil contingent in the vicinity of the Aquarius. Outnumbered roughly two to one, the Alliance Eagle pilots had no fear of their Bardomil adversaries, and streaked into the attack.

  Billy Caudwell knew that this battle was not over yet. The Bardomil commander had to surrender or stand his ground, defending his own Fighter Carriers and M-Cruisers, in the hope of luring the Star-Cruiser and the Eagle fighters onto his territory. He could still manage to save face and claim a partial victory if he could inflict heavy losses on the Alliance force and chase them off. The Bardomil commander still had one hundred Flying Devils, and just over two hundred Harpoons. That was a sizeable force for the Alliance to have to contend with. The Bardomil commander could, even as this stage, afford to lose fighters whilst the Alliance could not.

  Billy Caudwell knew that if he wanted to crush this Bardomil force, he would have to eliminate their fighter support to get in amongst the M-Cruisers and Fighter Carriers. If Billy wanted these Bardomil fighters removed, he would have to go and get them rather than try to draw them onto Aquarius’ guns.

  “Giving chase now, sir,” the WATO announced.

  On the View Screens, the small blue circles moved, almost as one, away from the larger blue circle that represented the Aquarius. In the War Room, a nervous hush was only interrupted by the muffled chatter of the Communications Network. The dice had been cast; Billy had to see this battle through to the bitter end. For the Alliance, an honourable draw would be a better result than the Thexxians had achieved previously. For Billy Caudwell, a draw was not acceptable. He had to lay to rest the ghost of Bardomil invincibility. An honourable draw would not be sufficient to achieve that.

  “Eagles have contact with the enemy, sir, opening fire,” the Flight Control Officer said.

  The superior speed of the Alliance Eagles brought them into contact with the fleeing Bardomil in less than a minute. In small groups of five fighters, the Alliance Eagles tore into the fleeing Bardomil Harpoons and Flying Devils. There was no need for large precise formations from the Alliance Eagles. The Bardomil were already running, and organised resistance was unlikely. In a fighter dogfight, the larger and slower Flying Devils, although more heavily armed were no match for a trained pilot in a Garmaurian Eagle. The Bardomil Harpoons were much more nimble and agile than the Flying Devis. Still, they were completely outclassed by the Eagle.

  In the War Room aboard Aquarius, Billy Caudwell, watching the pursuit of the surviving Bardomil fighters took his plan up to the next level.

  “Take us into pulsar-cannon range of the Imperial Fighter Carriers and M-Cruisers,” Billy ordered.

  “Aye, sir” came the response from the WATO.

  The atmosphere in the War Room after the display of appalling indiscipline was anxious and tense. The threat of court martial had brought the crew back into line.

  “Sir, the enemy has ordered a rearguard action from the last wave,” a Communications Technician called out.

  “He’s trying to protect his retreat,” the WATO added his opinion.

  “Keep pushing them,” Billy ordered, “catch them before they get back to their carriers.”

  The Bardomil commander, desperate to retain as many fighters as possible, had ordered fifty Harpoons and twenty Flying Devils to make up the rearguard action and protect their retreating comrades.

  On the View Screen image, Billy saw the chosen vessels peel away from the retreat. Their job was to hold off the Alliance Eagles for as long as they could. The Bardomil rearguard turned through a graceful left curve to place themselves in front of the Alliance Eagles. Outnumbered almost two to one, the rearguard would be little more than a distraction, an irritant to the Eagles rapidly closing the range with them. Billy Caudwell was well aware that many of the Eagle pilots wouldn’t be thinking strategically, as he was. A Thexxian, in an Alliance Eagle, faced with a Bardomil fighter would attack the enemy and go for the kill. What Billy Caudwell did not need were his Eagles being tied in knots as they hunted down a few Bardomil whilst the bulk of their fighters escaped.

  “WATO,” Billy called to his Weapons and Tactical Officer, “keep the main body of Eagles flying through that Bardomil cordon. Detach forty to swing about and deal with them when the rest of the fighters have passed.”

  “Sir,” the WATO responded from the darkness.

  It was a slightly unconventional tactic, Billy Caudwell had to acknowledge. He would commit as few Eagles as was required to keep the Bardomil rearguard pinned down whilst the rest of the Eagles would chase down the main Bardomil fighter force. It was a gamble, leaving the Bardomil with so many fighters behind the Alliance.

  He watched the Views Screen intently as the Eagles rapidly closed the range with the Bardomil rearguard. In a few moments, the adversaries would clash with weapons fire, and the holding action of Eagles would turn and pin down the Bardomil rearguard.

  It did not, however, quite work out as Billy Caudwell had intended.

  With supreme confidence, the Alliance Eagles hurtled into the attack against the Bardomil. The Bardomil formation, which had clustered the twenty Flying Devils in the centre, with twenty-five Harpoons stationed on each flank, sped forward to meet the challenge of the Alliance Eagles.

  “Eagles opening fire, sir,” the WATO reported.

  At extreme range, the Alliance Eagles opened up with their rapid-fire pulsar-cannons. The Bardomil fighters, their weapons still out of range, weaved to avoid the incoming Alliance gunfire. For some of the Bardomil it was a futile manoeuvre. The zipping pulsar-bolts hunted down and destroyed their targets with pitiless efficiency and speed. In the first salvo almost half of the Bardomil rearguard Harpoons disappeared.

  The larger Flying Devils at the centre of the formation seemed to gather the most attention from the Alliance guns. The Alliance pulsar-bolts peppered the hulls of the twenty Flying Devils like pellets from a shotgun. With each pulsar-cannon firing at the rate of five per second, the sheet of Alliance gunfire from one hundred and seventy five Eagles swept over the Bardomil rearguard like an avalanche. Explosions mushroomed on the hulls of the Flying Devils.

  The explosions rocked and jolted the Flying Devils as they dashed into the attack. The low-yield pulsar-bolts did not have the power to halt the forward momentum of the Flying Devil. However, with enough hits, the damage done to the Bardomil vessel would prove fatal. For ten of the twenty Flying Devils the outcome of the Alliance Eagle attack would prove to be terminal. Surging forwards to meet the attack it looked like the Flying Devils were disintegrating as they moved forwards through the white hot hail of Alliance pulsar-bolts. With every strike, the Flying Devil would throw damage and debris out into its wake as it raced forwards. The Flying Devil crews, well aware that retreat was not an option for them, were trying desperately to close the range on the Alliance Eagles in the hope of bringing their own weapons to bear on the enemy. If their vessels diverted the Eagle pilots away from the more vulnerable Harpoons, then that was part of their duty.

  The Harpoons on the flanks fared little better. Still unable to return fire on the Alliance Eagles, the Harpoons began to jink violently to avoid the great stream of incoming pulsar-bolts. The most fortunate, were able to successfully negotiate the gauntlet that sprang out at them. For others, their violent evasive manoeuvres allowed them to avoid one pulsar-bolt only to throw them directly into the fatal path of another. On the left flank of the Bardomil rearguard, fifteen Harpoons fell before they could come into effective weapons range. Their death blooms lighting up the battle area for the briefest of moments before being extinguished forever.

  On the r
ight flank, the Bardomil rearguard lost twelve Harpoons before the Eagles came within weapons range. The Bardomil pilots desperately tried to manoeuvre their vessels through the murderous hail of Alliance pulsar bolts. For many, it was to no avail.

  The fortunate were treated to the sight of their comrades being mowed down by the torrent of Alliance gunfire, the debris from comrades shaking the already violently weaving Harpoon fighters that had managed to survive. Still, the moment the Alliance Eagles came within weapons range the Bardomil opened up. The Alliance Eagles, with a squadron of five fighters in their classic arrowhead formation, were able to bring all guns to bear on their enemy, whilst leaving sufficient space between vessels not to present a large target.

  “Contact in ten seconds, sir,” the WATO announced as the Eagles were about to pass through the remains of the Bardomil rearguard.

  The Alliance Eagles, shredding the Bardomil fighters with their low-yield pulsar-cannons, were now on the receiving end of what they had previously been handing out. The surviving Bardomil pilots pressed on into the attack, determined to avenge their fallen comrades. With Alliance pulsar-bolts zipping all around their fighters, the Bardomil rearguard pilots opened fire and kept their fingers firmly pressed against their triggers. With fewer Bardomil targets, the Alliance Eagle pilots found it increasingly difficult to score hits on the enemy. The Bardomil, however, found themselves with a great many potential targets.

  “Enemy opening fire, sir,” a Scanner Technician called out excitedly.

  On the View Screen, Billy could see that in the headlong rush to engage with the Alliance Eagles, Bardomil fighters were still falling to the pulsar-bolts. However, the Bardomil fighters were managing to strike back at the Alliance Eagles.

  In the first salvo from the Bardomil, seven Alliance Eagles disappeared in red roaring flame, with a further ten damaged, three of which had to return to Aquarius. The surviving Bardomil screamed and yelled with delight as they watched the wedge-shaped Alliance Eagles explode in destruction, or lurch out of their formations.

  The victories, however, were to be short-lived. No sooner had the Bardomil rearguard pilots opened fire, than the Alliance Eagles streaked through their lines and passed through the ragged remains of their formations. The first and only pass of the Eagles swept through the ranks of the Bardomil rearguard and downed almost three quarters of their numbers. As the Bardomil broke up their formations to turn back into combat with the Eagles, they saw most of the Alliance fighters simply streaming away in pursuit of the main body of fleeing Bardomil fighters. This was not what the Bardomil commander or the surviving pilots of the rearguard had expected.

  As the survivors of the Bardomil rearguard swung their fighters around to engage the pack of Alliance fighters, they found themselves facing only four squadrons of ten Eagles already starting to shoot at them. The Bardomil rearguard, having been outmanoeuvred tactically, now had to fight for its existence. Their comrades would just have to fend for themselves.

  “Eagles in pursuit, enemy rearguard engaged, we have thirty seconds to targets” the Flight Control Officer called out.

  The majority of the Alliance Eagles, having successfully negotiated the Bardomil rearguard, was moving at full speed in pursuit of the main body of Bardomil fighters. In a straight race between the Alliance Eagle and the Bardomil Harpoon, the Eagle would win every time. It took just over thirty seconds for the Eagles to catch up to the Flying Devils and Harpoons that were making a disciplined retreat to the Fighter Carriers.

  “Opening fire now, sir,” the WATO announced.

  On the View Screens, Billy could see the Alliance Eagles sweeping in with all guns blazing. The rearmost Harpoons and Flying Devils began to explode as the Alliance pulsar-bolts mercilessly hunted them down. Unable to respond to the attack from the rear, the natural instinct of any fighter pilot or commander would have been to break formation and try to engage in a one-on-one dogfight. The Bardomil fighter commander defied his instincts and ordered his fighters to hold position as the Alliance Eagles swept through the formation, pulsar-cannons blazing, dealing death left and right.

  The wily fighter commander, knowing that his vessels were outclassed, was determined to hit back and to use the Eagle’s superior speed against it. The fighter commander knew that the Eagles would fly through his formations. He also knew that if the Eagles then wanted to further engage his fighters they would have to turn about.

  “Eagles passing through the enemy formation now, sir, and turning to engage again,” the WATO confirmed what Billy could already see.

  As the Eagles turned from their first pass, the weapons of the surviving Harpoons and the heavy rapid-fire weapons of the Flying Devils began to take their toll. Despite their superior speed and manoeuvrability the Eagles found themselves vulnerable for the brief seconds it took them to swing round for their second attack. Just as their comrades had been ambushed around the Alliance Star-Cruiser, the Bardomil let fly with very weapon they had at the turning Eagles. The Eagles, flying in their formations, did sustain losses in those few seconds of vulnerability. Over thirty Eagles disappeared in explosions of red roaring flame, with another twenty damaged and effectively unfit for combat duty. For such a force the loss of fifty fighters was a disaster.

  On the Tactical View Screen, Billy Caudwell watched the disappearance of the fallen Eagles with a grim face on the shocked silence of the War Room.

  “How did that happen, WATO?”, Billy asked.

  “Lazy flying, sir,” the WATO responded honestly.

  He was right. Under normal battle conditions the Eagle pilots should have dispersed in all directions to minimise losses in the turn. With their previous success against the Harpoons and Flying Devils, the Thexxians had become lax in their discipline, and over thirty Eagle pilots had paid the price.

  “Sheer indiscipline!” Billy Caudwell seethed in the depths of the War Room aboard the Alliance Star-Cruiser Aquarius, “And, indiscipline costs lives,” he continued to berate the War Room personnel.

  The crafty Bardomil fighter commander knew that the only way he could save at least some of his force was to fight his way through to safety. Desperation made the already beaten Bardomil pilots even more dangerous and determined. The Bardomil pilots resolved to sell their lives as dearly as they could, and surged forwards, gallantly, to meet the challenge of these frighteningly dangerous alien fighter craft. A couple of heartbeats later, the two lines of fighters collided with a chorus of explosions as the weapons fire claimed vessels from both sides. The rough formations deteriorated into the snarling scrimmage of fighter dogfights.

  Watching from the War Room of Aquarius, Billy Caudwell knew that there would only ever be one outcome from this hideous turning maul. The Eagles were numerically inferior, but they held all of the technological advantages. In Real View mode on the Tactical View Screens, Billy and the War Room watched as the Harpoons and Flying Devils darted through their life and death struggles. Like most creatures, the desperation of their situation made them brave beyond the point of foolhardy.

  The resistance of the Bardomil rearguard was almost at an end. The Eagles had scratched at the valiant Bardomil pilots until the last of them were now being harried to extinction.

  “Sir, we have reinforcements approaching from the detachment,” the WATO reported.

  Of the forty Eagles that had engaged the Bardomil rearguard, only five had been lost. This allowed thirty-five additional Eagles to join the hideous conflict that was taking place with the main body of Bardomil fighters.

  The surviving Bardomil of the main body of fighters, having taken the Alliance Eagles by surprise as they turned after their first pass through their formations, were now locked in the mayhem of the one-on-one melee. It was a very one sided contest for the Bardomil, not helped by the loss of their clever and cunning fighter commander in the early stages. Trying to avoid the pulsar-bolts of an Eagle pursuing him, the fighter commander’s Harpoon was strafed and destroyed by another Eagle who was attacking a Fl
ying Devil.

  Having destroyed the fighter commander’s Harpoon, the Eagle pilot continued his attack run. The pulsar-bolts stitched neatly from rear to front on the Flying Devils hull. Each pulsar-bolt kicking up debris and damage as the stream marched relentlessly over the back of the doomed vessel.

  By the time the eighth pair of pulsar-bolts had struck the Flying Devil, the engine casing had been pierced and the vessel vanished in a great orange and red fireball.

  With all formation and cohesion gone, the surviving Bardomil were fighting simply for survival. It had become everyone for himself amongst the Bardomil. The Harpoons, so often the hunters in their battles, had become the hunted. The pilots flung their fighters about, desperately trying to avoid the attentions and the rapid-fire pulsar-cannons of the Alliance Eagles. For every Eagle that the Bardomil pilots managed to shake off, or in some cases destroy, there was always another eager Thexxian who would chase them down.

  As the battle progressed, it became obvious to Billy Caudwell that the Alliance Eagles would win. On the Bardomil side, of the three hundred and ten who had been withdrawn from the final attack wave on Aquarius, only seventy were now effective fighting vessels. However, the losses had been quite severe. Of the one hundred and seventy-five Eagles that had roared away from the Aquarius after shattering two Bardomil attack waves, only one hundred and five now remained. Their pilots were tired, which was why their casualties had increased in the latter stages. Billy Caudwell knew that he had to extract what remained of his Eagles from the slaughterhouse.

  “Comms,” Billy ordered the Senior Communications Officer in a moment of inspired thinking, “make an Open Channel message to the Eagles, any Bardomil pilot ejecting and surrendering is not to be targeted.”

  “Sir,” came the response from the depths of one of the consoles.

  The Bardomil were brave pilots, but, they were dying needlessly. The Open Channel message would be intercepted by the Bardomil, which would, Billy hoped, encourage the Bardomil fighter pilots to eject and save their own lives. However, tradition and the fear revenge upon their families were deeply ingrained into the Bardomil pilot’s psyche. For some, the fear of the Empress executing their families for dereliction of duty spurred them to continue fighting. For others, the prospect of surrender was just too much to contemplate.