Eagle (Jacob Hull)

by Debenham, Kindal

  It was a heavily populated place for a border system. There were at least three worlds with signs of human populations. One was a rocky planet in the habitable zone, with an appropriate atmosphere and several dozen cities. Two gas giants both showed a large collection of orbiting extraction facilities and refineries. Ships were everywhere, ferrying materials and other goods between those locations, and a few merchantmen traveled out of the system to places further within the League’s territory.

  The shipyards were right where they were supposed to be, planted in orbit around the outermost gas giant. A massive installation, it was nearly three times the size of the yards at New Vermont and could have swallowed the Reefhome yards whole without even noticing. Ships of all types hung suspended from those docking slips, helpfully tagged by the sensors officer as hostile craft. There were corvettes, frigates, destroyers, cruisers…

  Jacob’s breath caught. The six bulky forms sheltered within the yard were something he’d not expected to see at all. Keeping his voice steady, he spoke into the stunned silence of the command center. “Lieutenant Urchel, can you confirm the presence of dreadnaughts at the enemy base?”

  The officer stared at the projection for a few more moments, and then nodded sharply. “Yes, Sir.” She glanced at her console, fingers flying over the controls. When Urchel looked back at Jacob, his face was calm. “First assessment is that they are all still nonoperational.”

  Jacob moved his attention to those ships outside the yards, the ships he’d hoped would not be waiting for him. His heart beat faster when he recognized them, and he counted them as they scrambled to organize themselves to face his force. “We’re going to have a fight on our hands. Put the fleet on alert status.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The communications officer on Jacob’s staff did not add anything to his simple acknowledgement, and Jacob was left alone to consider the situation. There were twelve cruisers waiting for him—four more than Intelligence had predicted, and six to eight more than he’d hoped for after his diversionary attacks. Alongside those ships were nearly forty corvettes, thirteen frigates, and six destroyers—all in all, nearly four times as many ships as he had with him. Those ships were close, positioned only an hour from his formation. The instant the Odurans picked up his force’s arrival, they started accelerating.

  The enemy was positioned too well for their presence to be a coincidence. They’d been waiting for him. If he tried to retreat, Jacob couldn’t get his entire task force out of the system in time. The Eagle’s Capistan took too long to charge. Some of his escorts would be destroyed while they screened the flagship’s retreat. Instead of a victory, he’d take costly losses when the Union was so short of warships already. He’d have to forget about being High Admiral; in fact, he’d be lucky to avoid a court martial. Regardless of what happened to Jacob personally, he’d be forced to watch as the Odurans destroyed the Union system by system until they killed him too.

  Jacob let his fists clench. He signaled the fleet. “Kay, Galahad, take up flanking positions with your escorts. Eagle will take the center. Khan, Edward, stay to the rear. We’re depending on you to shell the docks once the Odurans are out of the way. No matter what happens to the rest of the task force, you’re going to hit our targets.”

  A response came almost immediately from the Crown-class cruiser Khan. “Admiral Hull, we’re facing significant—”

  “Kay responding. We acknowledge your orders.” Isaac’s steely voice cut the other captain’s protests off, and the cruiser moved deliberately to take up position on the Eagle’s starboard flank. Galahad moved smoothly into place on the port side, though Leon offered no comment. The other ships wavered for a moment, and then they slid into their assigned positions. Both Crown-class ships stayed tucked in behind Eagle while the escorts gathered alongside the larger ships. They advanced together, their DE sails gathering energy as they moved away from the site of the riftjump.

  The Odurans were still on the way, gathering speed at an alarming rate. His Sensors officer was already updating the projection display with more data on the enemy craft, filling in information as quickly as the sensors could drink it in. Jacob counted at least three Brute-class cruisers in the center, their railgun banks and plasma lances optimized for close combat. There were three Scythe-class ships as well, with their missile bays already primed for longer distance shots. Obviously, their commander was hoping to engage and destroy the Eagle before the dreadnaught could respond. Under most circumstances, six cruisers would be more than enough for the task.

  On each wing, a Scythe-class flanked by two Brute-class ships moved to engage Isaac and Leon. Jacob’s eyes narrowed. They obviously wanted to overwhelm the ships on the sides before surrounding the flagship—no matter how bad the odds against Eagle were, neither of the wings was going to last long outnumbered three to one. He could almost see the Oduran ships battering both Knight-class cruisers to wrecks before sweeping around behind the Eagle to hit the flagship from behind.

  Jacob made the decision without hesitation. “Bulldog, take your squadron and cover Galahad. Mastiff, your squadron is going to escort the Kay. Keep our flanks clear.”

  He watched the destroyers veer to the sides of the formation, leaving the Eagle suddenly much more exposed in the center. Jacob tried to ignore how vulnerable his flagship now appeared to be. The flanks needed the help more than the dreadnaught did. Perhaps Leon’s analysis of the scouting force at Adamson had been accurate and the Odurans would be intimidated by the Hunter-class destroyers.

  The Odurans had barely reacted to the shifts in the Celostian formation, though a few escorts in the flanks started to drift a little closer to the center. All three of the Brute-class vessels ahead of Eagle had climbed slightly, possibly anticipating a chance to dive down on the dreadnaught’s bow if the dreadnaught turned up. The Scythe-class ships stayed lower, likely angling to get a better shot at the Eagle’s DE sails from below. Jacob wondered when they would realize he didn’t plan on making any course change; Eagle wasn’t designed for long range, standoff-style of engagement.

  As the range continued to close, Jacob touched a final control and sent one last transmission, this time to the gathered warships ahead of him. “Oduran fleet, this is Admiral Jacob Hull of the Celostian Navy. Your people have continued to attack and harass our territory, despite our efforts to defend ourselves. We have arrived in this star system to limit your ability to continue those attacks. If I cannot carry out that mission without your interference, I will destroy your fleet. Surrender, and you will be treated in accordance to the laws of war. Admiral Hull, out.”

  The response came quickly, in a voice dripping with contempt and anger. “This is Admiral Ricardo Morriega of the Oduran military. I represent the peace and stability of the Oduran League and will oppose your action here today. Your forces are outnumbered, and your cause is hopeless.” The contempt strengthened. “Do not presume to lecture us on the morality of our actions. We have every right to prosecute the crimes your people have committed and to bring to justice those traitors who take shelter among you. If you surrender, you may serve out the term of your lives in peace. If you resist, we will kill you all. I await your reply.”

  Jacob grunted, knowing the rest of his task force had likely been listening in on the conversation. At least he knew where their commander was now. He drew in a deep breath and let his anger leak into his words. “This is Admiral Jacob Hull. We will not surrender. We will not be destroyed. Your numbers do not intimidate us, and we are ready to destroy anyone who continues to threaten our freedom. You have been warned. Jacob Hull, Celostian Navy, out.”

  Finished with the conversation, Jacob turned his next communication to the officer at the communications console. “Lieutenant Mendel, did you get a good reading on where those transmissions were coming from?”

  Mendel responded easily. “Yes, Sir. The center Scythe-class facing us, probable identification lists it as Athens. It wasn’t at Tiredel or Rigannin, but the commanding officer is known f
rom several border incidents along the Frontier and police actions in the League. Very aggressive, very violent.”

  “Good. At least we won’t have to worry about him after today.” Jacob looked at the ship Mendel had indicated. He keyed a transmission for the bridge. “ Captain Martino, I want the ship at the center of their formation targeted by our first missile salvo. Choose remaining targets on your own discretion.”

  “Yes, Sir.” A hint of relief filled Martino’s voice; perhaps the officer had expected Jacob to try to maintain direct control over the Eagle for the rest of the engagement. It was tempting to try and take over Martino’s responsibility, but once the shooting started Jacob would have too much else to worry about. Martino could fight with the Eagle; someone else needed to direct the rest of the battle without distraction.

  The two forces raced toward each other without a response from Admiral Morriega, and Jacob felt tension start to creep up the muscles in his back. His heart beat faster, his hands clenched as the warships came closer. Minute after agonizing minute slipped by, until finally the first missiles streaked out from the Oduran lines, targeting the closest Celostian ships.

  Those missiles were met almost immediately by a wave of countermeasures, ranging from the blazing signals of flares to the sharp, fleeting shapes of antimissiles flechettes. Explosions detonated all across the space between the battle lines, and Jacob watched as missile after missile fell victim to the Celostian defenses. For an instant, he thought they’d managed to stop the entire salvo.

  Then one missile, dodging and weaving through the chaos, shot past the waves of explosions. As Jacob watched, it continued to track on its target, one of the destroyers near the Galahad. The Bulldog dove abruptly, trying to generate enough of a course change to avoid the projectile, but Jacob could see the missile was turning too quickly. He braced himself to watch the destroyer die, the first casualty of the engagement.

  A blazing spear of light tore across the projection as Galahad’s plasma lance sheared the missile in half, some distance short of the Bulldog. The projectile detonated in a violent blast that still encompassed the smaller craft. A heartbeat later, the destroyer coasted out of the other end of the shockwave with its armor battered, but still intact. Jacob let out a breath he had sucked in when the missile exploded and signaled Galahad. “Well done, Captain Nivrosky. Keep up the good work.”

  “As ordered, Sir.”

  Frustrated by the lack of kills, the Odurans accelerated toward Jacob’s ships, bringing their railguns to bear.

  He saw flashes as those guns began to fire and could imagine the triumph in those gunners’ hearts. A firing run against the exposed bow of a dreadnaught was the dream of every cruiser captain, and now the Eagle had driven herself straight into their sights. A Golem-class dreadnaught like her sister ships would have been crippled by the barrage, the damage from each hit compounded by her own forward velocity. Jacob’s hands tightened on the arms of his command chair—if Turley had missed something in Engineering, or if Jacob hadn’t been watchful enough for treachery…

  Eagle’s point defense turrets began to sweep railgun shots from space. The shells exploded, leaving clouds of flame and fragments in the wake of the point defense fire. Though the Eagle had been designed with this sort of forward charge in mind, and her defenses arrayed accordingly, shells still got through the web of plasma. Jacob saw the flickers of shell contacts streak in and braced himself for impact.

  The dreadnaught rocked gently at those hits, but it continued the charge. Jacob let the tension bleed out of him with a wry chuckle. Most of his commands had been destroyers where even a single hit could spell disaster. A dreadnaught was a much bigger ship—and Eagle carried the new internal armor that had made the Hunter-class dreadnaught so fearsomely tough. Damage reports stained the forward sections of the ship a warning yellow, but so far the Eagle’s armament and capabilities were untouched.

  Then it was Captain Martino’s turn, and seventy-two railgun turrets swung around in unison. The guns had been arrayed in turrets of three, six of them spread along the flat surface of each broad wing of the Eagle’s superstructure. When they fired in unison, Jacob felt the ship tremble from the force of the shots.

  One of the Brute-class ships had the misfortune of being Martino’s first target. The Eagle fired for a little under four seconds; that quickly, over two hundred railgun shells were in space. Martino’s target swerved—no captain could miss the rain of destruction coming toward his ship—but there was no cruiser in the universe that could have moved fast enough. Oduran point defense caught half of the first salvo and about a third of the second. Then their interception efforts became almost erratic, catching the occasional shell almost by accident as their ship was pounded into uselessness under the avalanche of railgun fire.

  Martino didn’t wait to watch the full results of the salvo. Only a heartbeat after the first barrage, the railguns were already changing targets. Even as the first cruiser began to break apart under the sheer weight of fire, railgun shells tracked out toward the Brute-class ship to port. The Oduran captain wasn’t waiting around to meet the same fate; his ship was diving below the plane of the Eagle’s broad wings, hoping to escape the attack. Eagle’s gunners knew their business well, however, and the cruiser was soon awash in flames, even as the railguns zeroed in on a third target.

  Jacob stared in awe as the third salvo went out. He’d never commanded this kind of firepower before—on a destroyer he would’ve expected the guns to be melting down by now—and his ship was still shrugging aside the forward damage from the Oduran responses. There was a momentary flicker of pride as he recognized the kind of weapon he’d created for the Navy, and as the third cruiser spun away, one full side pockmarked by successive impacts of railgun shells, Jacob looked toward the rest of the battle.

  It was hard to see if it was going well. The clouds of Oduran escorts on the flanks had enveloped the Celostian frigates and corvettes. At the same time, the Hunter-class destroyers had risen to the challenge, driving through the ranks of the Oduran ships and scattering them. On both sides, the battle had become a wild melee of explosions and shrapnel—and at the center of the chaos were the cruisers.

  Jacob saw the Kay drive forward on his flank. Isaac’s plasma lance swept across the nose of a Brute-class ship ahead of it. The blazing beam of light and fury ripped across the ship’s length, gutting it even as the other two cruisers pummeled the Kay with railgun broadsides. Leon was playing it a bit safer; the former High Admiral’s son was engaging in a duel with the cruisers on his flank, engaging them with missile fire and railgun salvoes as they tried to close the distance.

  Then Eagle’s flanks belched flame, and Jacob’s attention snapped back to the center. The railguns had fallen silent at last; even a dreadnaught’s massive heat sinks had limitations, and Captain Martino appeared to have reached them. Eagle’s missile bays suffered no such penalties, however, and as the guns glowed from waste heat, a salvo of twelve missiles curled out toward the enemy flagship.

  The Odurans were waiting for them. Antimissile flechettes intercepted half of them before they had even crossed half of the distance, and a well-timed flare sent another four wandering off target. Both of the remaining two stayed on target as their fellows were picked off or decoyed, but as they closed to attack range the enemy flagship slid to the side in a practiced, well-rehearsed evasive maneuver. The missiles blundered past the ship, clumsy as a bull charging a matador, and then a second salvo of flechettes killed them before they could turn. Jacob cursed and his fists tightened as he watched the Athens gracefully come back into formation, unharmed.

  Yet the Odurans were not done yet. Their maneuvers had taken the trio of Scythe-class cruisers nearly into railgun range. They had to have been confident Eagle’s guns could not attack to come so close, and Jacob cursed again as their railguns opened up to bracket his flagship. Then the sides of the Scythe-class ships erupted in flame, and a missile salvo of their own sped back toward the dreadnaught. J
acob felt a sudden chill. Eighteen missiles at that range would be deadly, no matter how much armor the Eagle had.

  The Countermeasures team aboard Eagle went into frantic response. Flechettes spawned from half a dozen ports along the Eagle’s hull; specialized EW turrets tried to track across the courses of those missiles and flood their computers with confusing emissions. Some enterprising soul launched a flare, though the likelihood the Oduran missiles would be fooled into ignoring a heat source like the dreadnaught at this range was low.

  Their efforts, as expert as they were, destroyed or disabled two thirds of the massive salvo. The remaining six missiles came in together, their approaches timed so they would hit the Eagle in one massive blow. Jacob could imagine that strike destroying his ship. Four missiles had hit the Spear head on at Tiredel; only a fourth of her crew had survived. He pictured internal supports buckling, compartments breaching, his crew dead in the blast or dying as their ship shredded around them. His mind flashed back to the last moments of the Terrier, when a single projectile had finished off his crippled ship.

  Then the missiles hit, and there was no more time for imagination. The ship shuddered beneath Jacob’s feet. Holograms flickered and consoles blinked. His display stayed solid, however, though most of it went grey as the blast waves fouled the flagships sensors. He heard secondary explosions go off, felt the deck tremble with the aftershocks. For one terrifying second, he thought he heard the sounds of escaping atmosphere or the squeal of twisting superstructure.

  The moment passed. Jacob remained still, ears straining, just to be sure. Then he turned his attention back to the display and saw his flagship was clearing the blasts. They’d emerged intact.

  Cheering broke out, audible through the bulkheads, and Jacob smiled. He saw the movements of the Odurans all across the battle falter for a moment, their captains and crews shocked by the flagship’s survival, and then they panicked for a moment before discipline took hold again. The three Scythe-class vessels swerved, attempting to get out of the Eagle’s railgun range. Jacob shook his head. It was far too late for that move.