Attack of Shadows (Galaxy's Edge Book 4)

by Nick Cole

  Forty heavy laser turrets—ten forward, fifteen per side—per ship.

  Sixty light turret point defense batteries—thirty per side—per ship.

  Most of the weapons wouldn’t be viable until the massive ships were right alongside one another. And by then the most powerful weapons, the ion guns and the torps, would be all but useless. But for now… in the forward charge right into their spear point… they were absolutely perfect.

  “Inform Revenge.”

  Silence. The Republic’s fleet was looming larger out there. The super-destroyer dwarfed all the other ships in its squadron.

  And even now a second launch group from the carrier was streaking past that distant squadron. So, the Republic had held back a surprise… and now the fighter odds were back to even again. And technically, the Republic’s new Raptors had held their own against the Black Fleet’s tri-fighters.

  “Target the super-destroyer. Fire when ready, Captain.”

  Ten seconds later, the two massive guns far below the command bridge, and poking out from the rise in the main hull, spat forth two high-intensity fused bursts of hyper-charged unstable ion matter superheated into a dense plasma core with a furnace temperature of thirty five-hundred Kelvin. The metallic high-pitched shriek of both guns shook the battleship to its core.

  The battle, the real battle, had begun.

  And deep in his heart, Rommal knew things were going to get far less polite than lobbing superweapons at range. In fact, he knew for a fact it was going to turn into a street brawl in the dark, with knives out, shortly.

  Rommal watched as both ion shots rolled forward like two micro suns racing unheeded into the darkness between the fleets. Seconds later there was a flash as one splashed off Atlantica’s forward deflector array. The second one barely missed the long ship.

  A second after that, Revenge landed two hits on the enemy super-destroyer’s bow.

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Bridge of the Atlantica

  0601 Local System Time

  “They’ve fired!” shouted someone in the seconds before the damage klaxon began to howl. “Brace for impact!”

  Nagu distantly wondered if this new fleet, whoever he was facing, had developed some kind of alternative technology. If they’d pursued one of the thousands of exciting new weapons tech research trees the Repub had spent time and money to develop only to never implement. There was so much valuable, and dangerous, R&D just waiting in labs from one side of the galaxy to the other. Nagu had been a big proponent of turning that research into reality.

  But they’d always managed to ignore him. The “they” being the House of Reason.

  He watched both shots coming for his ship with a kind of quiet fatalism. Still thinking about R&D in the moments before the catastrophic damage began.

  Well, we’ll find out now, he thought to himself in the quiet half second before impact.

  The forward deflectors collapsed all at once. Then a third shot struck the forward command structure, right below the bridge, and Nagu was sent flying, scrambling for a handhold, as the lights went out. Another massive impact landed somewhere in the aft sections of the lengthy super-destroyer. Engineering, maybe.

  “Lights!” Nago shouted amid the sudden chaos that filled the bridge. He felt the ship listing beneath him, and he was suddenly aware that he was probably going to die. Klaxons roared and red emergency lighting flared to life in the thick darkness.

  “Forward deflector down!” someone needlessly shouted. The tactical officer, he thought.

  Nagu struggled to his feet and stumbled over to damage control. Power had come back. Readouts indicated serious damage. They’d lost forward torpedoes and guns. Engineering was breached, but power was still online.

  “Damn,” muttered Nagu. They’d lost their ability to fire forward.

  He turned to the tac officer. “Order helm hard to port. Waist guns return fire. Fire at will!”

  A moment later a sensor tech shouted out, “Loose comet! Loose comet! Tracking three… now four inbound on the formation!”

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Waist Gun Battery Commander, Atlantica

  0602 Local System Time

  Commander Hu in fire control beneath the main spine of the super-destroyer rotated in his gunnery chair and brought down the targeting computer. He ranged the lead battleship.

  “Unlimber the guns and fire on selected target, at my command.”

  The battery coordination crew all around him sprang to life as the main heavy laser turrets dropped down from the bottom of the hull beneath the long spine and rotated to acquire targets. Each gun was housed in a squat, flat, half-story-sized battery housing from which two stubby circular barrels nosed out. Shots began to pump from each barrel, alternating to keep up a steady stream of fire at the target.

  Commander Hu’s target was the oncoming Imperator. As the Atlantica hove over to broadside, the other destroyers in the formation continued forward into the maelstrom of fire now coming from each battleship.

  Two torpedoes slammed into Victory amidships. Hull plating exploded out and away, trailing in the wake of the destroyer as vital internal systems lay open to naked space.

  “Look at the size of that thing,” one of the gunners called out over chat as another torpedo struck the Atlantica. Somewhere off in the hull, a distant explosion rumbled. And even though the Imperator’s deflectors were standing up to the intensive volume of battery fire coming from the squadron, shots were getting through and landing amidships.

  “Maintain target acquisition and intensify fire!” shouted Hu across the comm.

  Black Fleet

  Bridge of the Imperator

  0604 Local System Time

  “Sir,” whispered the CIC amid the seeming calm of the bridge. Beyond the windows a terrific fireworks display lit up the darkness as if for their benefit… a show to be watched, an entertainment not real. Never mind all the death and destruction going on inside those ships. “Captain Vampa is entering the battle with the Terror!”

  There was a pause as Rommal turned to stare at the man, a question seared plainly across the iron-carved sharpness of his face.

  The CIC understood. “Her deflectors are still down, sir.”

  In just moments the battleships would enter firing range for the heavy turrets.

  “She’ll be shot to pieces!”

  The CIC acknowledged this gravely.

  “Tell her to fall back and provide fighter cover. We’ve got two full squadrons inbound and our deflectors are collapsing. We need more point defense support with those two squadrons heading straight at us.”

  The CIC nodded and turned away to relay the order to the Terror’s command crew.

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Second Squadron, “Gunfighters”

  0605 Local System Time

  The space all around Ensign Atumna Fal, the maw between the fleets, was filled with chaos. Raptors going up in sudden balls of flame and vapor. Tri-fighters crashing through the explosions. Heavy turret fire from the battleships that was beyond intense.

  “Gunfighter Nineteen, you’ve picked up two—watch yourself.”

  Atumna cranked her head around to look out the back of her Raptor as she pulled in to a hard bank and climb. Red blaster fire chased her up through the star field.

  She barrel-rolled back the other way and shook one of her pursuers. The other stayed all over her six, smashing away at her rear deflector with its blasters.

  Again she rolled, but this time she came out on a new heading, diving away from the plane of the battle. As the tri-fighter gave chase, Atumna suddenly backed off her power, pulled up hard, and shot back into the thick of the battle—and straight at two more tri-fighters. She increased speed once more and shot past them, only narrowly avoiding a collision. The tri-fighter chasing her was not so lucky. It smashed into one of the fighters she’d slipped past, and both ships went spinning in opposite directions, coming apart in the middle of the battle.

&nb
sp; Atumna was breathing hard. That had been closer than anyone could’ve imagined.

  “Nice move, Nineteen,” called out Gunfighter Seven, also known as Race Mandu. “Follow me in on the lead battleship—we’ll make a run across her forward deflectors. Full burst all the way, little sister.”

  She fell in with Race, off his starboard wingtip. They climbed above the elliptic of the battle, then shot back down toward the split triangular bow of the lead battleship, blasters blazing.

  “Watch that portside turret fire,” said Gunfighter Lead matter-of-factly over the squadron comm.

  As they came in at an angle to the bow of the sprawling ship, a river of massed fire came from the Seventh, smashing into the battleship’s tremendous deflectors. The energy readings were off the charts.

  And then, suddenly, the lead battleship’s deflectors were down.

  “Her deflectors are down!” someone whooped over chat.

  “Roger,” called out Gunfighter Lead. “Switching to attack runs now! Gunfighters, pair up and stagger. We need to take out their turrets. On me, Seven and Nineteen. We’re going for their main ion guns.”

  Atumna pitched her fighter over and followed the squadron leader up the hull of the huge gray ship.

  “Targeting portside main ion gun, Nineteen.”

  That was her target. She’d let him hit first, then follow up.

  She saw the massive guns looming farther up the hull of the ship and steadied herself to line up for a pass with her blasters. Ahead of her, Gunfighter Lead began to open up with hot searing blaster fire that walked across the smaller structures surrounding the immense main gun housing.

  Atumna fired next. Her shots seemed to do little against the armored battleship. She saw hull platting melt far beneath her, but no suddenly terrific explosions. Nothing to crow about.

  And then they were pulling up hard and climbing away to avoid smashing into the enemy ship. Defensive turret fire chased them into the heights of the raging battle as more Raptors swooped in through the smashed deflector grid, streaking to make their runs on the battleship’s turrets.

  Black Fleet

  Auxiliary Control of the Terror

  0609 Local System Time

  “Slowly now,” began Captain Vampa. “Take us away to port and present our waist guns.”

  The first officer acknowledged the captain’s order and watched as helm bent to the command. It was dark down here in auxiliary control, and it felt almost natural to whisper. Especially with the deception in plain sight they were trying to pull. Edging closer to the enemy fleet, off its flank, bringing waist guns to bear on their profiles… that would be devastating. They just had to go unnoticed until the moment they fired.

  “Battery commanders, target the super-destroyer. Helm, continue course past the enemy’s flank. Stand by to launch our fighters once Victory and Arongotoa turn to engage.”

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Waist Gun Battery Command, Atlantica

  0608 Local System Time

  “Commander… enemy battleship to port. Sensors indicate her deflectors are down!”

  In the fire command cupola beneath the spine of the ship, the fire control crew was treated to an epic view of the battle now swirling all about them. Raptors chased tri-fighters in and among the destroyer squadron while other Raptors swarmed the lead battleship.

  A salvo of ion gun shots from the two battleships slammed into Destiny of Purpose, striking the hull at multiple locations. One shot went clean through the rearmost engineering sections forward of the main engines. But the Destiny continued to return fire at the lead battleship.

  “We got this!” shouted Hu. “Continue targeted fire as per AI protocols.”

  The Terror, which had been coming in head on and was now at profile, opened up on the super-destroyer Atlantica, raking her hull with her powerful waist gun batteries in a devastating broadside. The Atlantica’s hull ruptured, venting oxygen, as more fire tore through her armor. Secondary internal explosions across the starboard side ripped through bulkheads and blast doors, killing large sections of the crew instantly. Others fought to survive without life support.

  Command switched the deflector array in a desperate to attempt to absorb some of the blistering barrage coming from this new direction, but close-range volley fire tore through still more hull plating across the ship’s upper decks, tearing the long spine of the ship to shreds. The main drive took a pounding, and what targeting computers would record as a missed shot smashed directly into the lightly shielded fire control cupola hanging beneath the spine, vaporizing Commander Hu and the fire control team instantly.

  And this was just the beginning.

  Fresh salvos of heavy turret fire from Terror began to chew through vital systems and internal quarters. Hangar deck two exploded, destroying four decks worth of crucial systems in each direction.

  But the Atlantica was a big ship. She would hold for a few minutes more as she absorbed the combined brunt of all three battleships.

  With the death of the fire control team in the gunnery cupola, the targeting AI switched over to command battery gunners via pre-devised protocols in order to unify their fire on the nearby Imperator at best selected range. It was a fatal flaw in programming, and the guns missed the opportunity to inflict lethal damage against the un-shielded Terror.

  Black Fleet

  Bridge of the Imperator

  0613 Local System Time

  For all the Repub’s faults and inability to integrate modern and innovative weapon systems across their fleet, their cyberwarfare capabilities were excellent. Probably due to the House of Reason’s need to control all forms of electronic communication in order to maintain its hold over the populace.

  So when four torpedoes were fired in the first salvo, Atlantica’s electronic warfare center had hacked all four and sent them off in useless directions away from the battle.

  Admiral Rommal had anticipated that.

  He had thirty-six more torpedoes to fire, but he was waiting. Holding them back until they could begin to score internals on the flagship. Once that ship was wounded, their torpedoes would have a much better chance. Especially if they knocked out the ship’s powerful electronic warfare center.

  The Imperator shook violently.

  “Damage report!” yelled the CIC as everyone held on. It felt like the massive ship had suddenly been shifted to port.

  “We’ve had an explosion in engine housing six.”

  Rommal scanned the power management display to his left. Flashing damage indicators denoted the area in engineering that had been hit.

  But whether it was from enemy action or a breakdown, who knew?

  “We’ve got casualties in engineering!” another officer reported. Rommal listened as his staff scrambled damage control and medical teams. We’re hit, he told himself, but not out.

  He turned back to the holographic overlay. Terror, off to port and ahead of the fleet, was pounding the living daylights out of Atlantica in a series of furious broadsides from her waist guns.

  Captain Vampa had disobeyed… and yet she was singlehandedly turning the battle into a slaughter for the fleet. He made a note, if he survived, to deal with her.

  Two destroyers were now breaking off from the squadron and turning to engage her defenseless ship.

  Rommal weighed his options. He could fire his torpedoes at the Atlantica and most likely knock it out of the battle right now. Or he could try to cripple one or both of the destroyers and wait through the extensive reloading and arming process it took to get new torps in the tubes. At least three minutes.

  “Torpedo fire control,” he commanded, “target the two destroyers breaking off. Two salvos. One each.”

  Republic Seventh Fleet

  Bridge of the Victory

  0614 Local System Time

  “Battery commanders reporting ready to fire, Captain!”

  The destroyer had turned to engage the massive battleship off the fleet’s flank. That she was unshielded and
concentrating fire on the flagship Atlantica was making the approach to contact much easier than facing the relentless fire coming from the other battleships.

  Captain Karka selected target concentrations across the holographic schematic of the looming battleship. “Here, here, and… here,” he said to his fire control officer. “This is where we seem to be doing more damage on the other ships.”

  Not for the first time, he wondered why this battleship wasn’t firing back at either his ship or the Arongatoa. Both were closing in for close-range concentrated fire. They would do devastating damage to her.

  “Share targeting data with Captain Noss. Fire at will.”

  “Sir!” A sensor operator bypassed the executive officer on the bridge to communicate directly with the captain. A clear violation of Republic protocols, but not unheard of. “We’ve got four fast movers inbound. Can’t track or identify because Atlantica’s ECM warfare system has been knocked out, but I’m calling loose comets, sir.”

  The captain turned to face the operator. “Can we get a fix?”

  “Trying… They’re closing like torpedoes. Fast and erratic. I advise we switch our deflectors and reallocate turrets to point defense management.”

  “Negative. Mr. Goma… you may fire on the battleship when ready. Engage with all guns.”

  In that moment it was impossible for Captain Karka to imagine that the fleet didn’t have his back completely covered. Not being the superior force on the field had never been a part of his naval experience in the Republic.

  Batteries from both destroyers opened fire into the almost near-perfect attack profile the length of the battleship presented.

  A moment later he heard the sensor tech shriek.

  “Brace yourselves for—”

  The first torpedo smashed through the deflectors easily. That was the special ability that old-school kinetic weapons had—deflectors did little to stop their strike. That first torpedo holed engineering and exploded exactly as it was supposed to. Five full decks were ripped apart, killing what remained of the engineering section, including the power management team struggling to maintain and restore reserve power.