by Britt Ringel
“Well,” Falk said sedately, “we knew the bastards would dive in with enough ships to kill our forts. At least we got three of their cruisers and a destroyer. Good trade.”
No it isn’t, Twist thought in revulsion. There are, what… fifteen hundred sailors on a fort and another six hundred on an outpost? We just lost over two-thousand Brevics and for what? The Hollies took that tunnel point after less than two minutes of battle.
He reflected on the ephemeral conflict. Neither side had given terms or offers of surrender. The battle had started the instant the Hollarans had arrived and ended only after every Brevic had been killed. It had been swift, brutal and inglorious. Maybe not having the opportunity to witness it in high resolution was the right call.
The tactical plot strobed again. Already, more disturbance symbols were flooding the area around the tunnel point. Twist’s heart dropped at the sheer number of distortions. They’re dead serious about taking this system. The newest generic enemy icon transformed into the symbol of a Commonwealth battleship.
“Attention, crew of the Lochaber.” It was Captain Kessler’s voice. “Thirty minutes ago, over twenty-one hundred Brevics gave their lives in defense of the Republic.”
Twist reconciled the time difference. That’s right; we’re twenty-five light-minutes from the tunnel point. The battle we just witnessed took place half an hour ago and it’s taken that long for the light to reach us. His heart rate increased at the notion that the Hollaran fleet had been running rampant for the last half hour.
“Each of us swore to devote our life to and, if necessary, sacrifice it for the Republic. Let the example set by those brave sailors at the tunnel point be a reminder of the cost of freedom. Kessler out.”
Twist shivered slightly at the words. Are we next?
Chapter 12
It took several minutes for TG 2.2’s sensors to classify and confirm the twenty-seven Hollaran ships remaining in the invasion force. The flagship, an enormous battleship, loitered near the tunnel point in the company of two dreadnaughts. Three command cruisers bolstered by six heavy cruisers and six light cruisers rounded out the major units. In their wakes, Brevic sensormen had also found nine lighter ships, divided between destroyers and frigates.
“Most of those light units have to be escorts,” Falk insisted.
The disturbances at the Kale tunnel point abated as the Hollaran task force began to organize into a formation. Twist was trying to estimate the force’s throw-weight, the number of missiles its ships could fire in a single salvo, when seven additional white pulses appeared onscreen.
It’s up to thirty-four ships now, Twist groaned inwardly. This really can’t get much worse. The newest, generic symbols morphed into those of a Commonwealth fleet carrier and her six escorts.
“There it is,” Falk punctuated the Hollaran statement of dominance. “They say Hollie carriers have over two hundred attack craft.”
Twist wondered who “they” were, then decided he did not care. “Thank God Three-One got to us in time.” What had seemed like inevitable victory six hours ago now looked like a fight for their lives. How can this be happening? Twist asked himself. The Commonwealth has outmatched us in every single engagement of the war. Why weren’t we told that they were so strong? He felt a righteous anger welling up within him, not at the Commonwealth but at his own leaders. His thoughts turned to his mother. Calm down, Caden. They can’t be strong everywhere so this just means that our battles elsewhere must be shaping up better than this one. Plus, the General Council must not have been aware of just how powerful the Hollarans are, otherwise they would have negotiated. Besides, we do have a carrier group to help us.
The Hollaran attack force was on the move. After a final shuffle within its formation, the entire mass rotated toward Pan and began cruising at .2c.
“They’re not even going to look for us?” Twist asked suspiciously. “They have to know there’s more defending Sponde than just those two stations.”
“Why bother?” Falk answered matter-of-factly. “The best way to find us is to threaten Pan.”
It was true. Given infinite space and the relative parity of sailing speeds between the two fleets, the hidden defenders could easily avoid any aggressor for as long as they wished. However, by threatening the system’s major planet, the invaders would force an engagement before they entered fusion missile range.
There were terrible rumors that the Commonwealth had already uncorked the fusion-genie from the bottle. Two Brevic systems rimward of the disputed zone, Kore and Euanthe, were already behind enemy lines. Gruesome and persistent reports bespoke of planet-wrecking attacks to pacify a defiant population. No Brevic dared to believe these tales, not out of misguided faith in the intentions of the Commonwealth but rather in the belief than no sane people, regardless how morally bankrupt, would risk the assured mutual annihilation of a fusion-based game of tit-for-tat.
“We’re moving,” Falk announced.
Twist studied the tactical plot. Task Groups 2.2 and 3.1, already facing in-system, began to accelerate on a parallel course with the Hollarans. Again, there was no tangible feeling of motion, no resistance to inertia or increase in ambient noise inside Twist’s compartment. The only evidence of the fleet’s movement was the tiny, lengthening vector line behind the fleet symbol on the tactical plot.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked.
Falk shrugged. “Beats me. We’re both well below the pay grades that get any explanation but you can bet that we won’t just be shadowing them for long.” As if bearing witness to Falk’s prediction, Task Group 2.2 altered course, angling slightly toward the invasion force.
The high-stakes match for Sponde had begun. Three distinct forces were participating. The Hollarans, sailing in a single massive formation, were heading directly toward the only habitable planet to draw out the remaining defenders of Sponde. Outside their detection range sailed their Brevic opponents. Both defending task groups were sailing in-system parallel to the Commonwealth with Task Group 2.2’s course slicing inward toward the Hollaran formation. Separated by immense distances, the game of maneuvers would play out over hours instead of minutes.
During the interminable wait, Twist finished reviewing the damage control procedures in the event of a catastrophic hit to his compartment. He had no sooner closed the text when his panel’s chronometer announced the top of the hour at 21:00. The Hollarans had been inside Republic space for over an hour. He had been on duty, strapped to his shockseat for seven and a half hours. Twist had altered the temperature settings of his shocksuit a dozen times as his body reacted to the highs and lows of unfolding events. Observing the battle at the tunnel point, his body had felt on fire and he had broken into a clammy sweat. After the skirmish, the cooler temperature combined with the dampness under his arms and down his back to give him the chills. Witnessing the arrival of the Hollaran carrier fleet had launched his body through the same process. The fight or flight responses and the nervous dread of impending action steadily wore down his body’s reserves.
He felt another, involuntary jolt as he watched TG 2.2’s tactical symbol break through the 20lm detection zone of the Hollarans. Even though it would take another twenty minutes for their light to reach the enemy, his pulse hastened. There was no escaping the conflict now that the zone had been breached.
Twenty more tortured minutes crawled by. Twist likened the situation to watching an aircar collision in slow motion. It’s far worse than that, he told himself. I’m one of the passengers! When the time required for the Hollarans to detect his ship had expired without a response, he felt a creeping uncertainty mixed with hope. Maybe they can’t see us after all or, maybe, they’re afraid to fight us.
The comforting theory came crashing down with a naked realization. Caden, you idiot! They are reacting to us. You just can’t see it yet because they’re eighteen light-minutes away and their light hasn’t reached you.
New symbols sprang to life on the plot over Task Group 3.1. The tiny icon
s were different from anything Twist had studied in OTS and appeared in rapidly increasing succession. As he struggled to recall what a half-circle missing its bottom was, the growing numbers resolved his internal debate: fighters. The new symbols seemed to be self-replicating and threatened to overwhelm all clarity on the tactical plot near the carrier group.
Twist quickly centered and zoomed his view on Avenger and Eagle and unknowingly watched one of the Republic’s first fighter combat launches. After ten mesmerizing minutes, the swarms of Brevic fighter craft settled into their own formations. One hundred sixty-six distinct half-circles now cruised alongside their consorts still safely outside the 20lm detection zone of the Hollarans.
What are they waiting for? Twist thought incredulously. Attack!
“The Hollarans are launching fighters too,” Falk warned from his side of the compartment.
Twist hastily expanded the tactical plot. Enraptured by the Republic carriers, he had missed the Hollaran rejoinder. A horde of red, counterpart symbols was breaking away from the main invasion fleet, bearing directly toward him at the astounding speed of .3c.
Although any ship could accelerate limitlessly given enough time and propulsion, maintaining structural integrity became increasingly difficult at higher speeds due to the Hoss-Boland effect. The power requirements to maintain a ship’s inertial compensators became progressively prohibitive past .2c. While the smallest ships of TG 2.2, the frigates and destroyers, were capable of operating at speeds slightly faster than that, the larger ships of the fleet would find it nearly impossible to simultaneously supply the power demanded to accelerate themselves to ultra-high speeds while keeping their inertial compensators from failing.
Using his index finger, Twist circled the approaching red mass and requested a tally. The enemy strike force numbered one hundred seventy-two fighters. Ice coursed through Twist’s veins, sending another shiver through his body. “How many missiles do they carry?”
“I don’t know, Ensign,” Falk answered. “But if they’re like our fighters, they’ll carry four anti-ship missiles each.”
Six hundred and eighty-eight missiles? A second blast of ice tore a path through his body. In a single wave? Our escorts can’t stop that! The careful planning of the military elite, the months of study at OTS and the days of practice during the recent exercises now seemed worthless in the face of the new rules of war.
Twist watched his task group come about to face directly away from the danger and execute a hard burn to kill the momentum carrying it toward the Hollarans. After thirty-nine seconds of thrust, Task Group 2.2’s velocity line on the tactical plot shrank from .2c to relative rest. The drives burned further, gradually extending the line in the opposite direction. Their speed climbed past .1c but settled at only .12c.
Why the hell aren’t we running at our top speed? Twist stared, dumbfounded at the short vector line. Am I the only one who sees this? We should be running at least at .2c! Maybe we can get outside the range of those fighters. His hand wavered over the communications panel. Should I point this out to Lieutenant Chappell? Surely, there’s a reason we’re not running as fast as we’re able?
Twist grumbled bitterly, withdrew his hand and rested his elbows on the console. I’m going to die today and I won’t even have a say in how it happens. He sighed. Better a glorious death in battle than a long and happy life in Logistics, right, Mother? He sunk his head into gloved hands and passively stared at the computer screen projecting his demise.
He ran the numbers three times and came to the heart-wrenching conclusion that his fleet had absolutely no chance of surviving such a massive fighter attack. With little more to do, he spent the next ten minutes watching death edge toward him. In those dark moments, Twist tried to invent scenarios in which the escorts shaved just enough missiles from the attack to enable Lochaber to defend herself but he knew they were pure fantasies. We’re going to die without even having a chance to fire at the enemy. The cruelty and injustice made his blood run hot. He once again adjusted his shocksuit’s temperature as his emotions swayed violently. He thought back to the swift and vicious fight at the tunnel point. His shoulders shrugged. Why should it be any different for me? he mused with an almost casual indifference.
Coming to a surreal acceptance that he was living the final hour of his life, Twist considered recording a message to his mother. The closure he would feel by creating it would comfort him but his unwillingness to completely give in to despair in front of Falk prevented it. Instead, he did the only thing he could: he watched the tactical plot.
Four discrete groups were readily discernible now. The Hollaran invasion fleet continued its .2c run toward Pan while its fighter squadrons streaked across space after a fleeing TG 2.2. The Brevic carrier group and its fighters docilely shadowed their doomed sister fleet, 10lm behind and still out of sensor range of the Hollarans.
“Movement,” Falk said excitedly. “Our fighters are moving!”
Twist, unengaged and staring blankly at the screen, focused his vision. The fighter strike force finally appeared to be on the move, accelerating to .3c. Curiously, their belated attack vectors seemed not to be directed at the Hollarans. Instead, they were pointed at… no one.
Twist cocked his head in confusion. The Brevic fighters were obviously now in a great hurry but their course seemed to take them nowhere. He drew an imaginary line with his finger down the fighters’ path on the screen. It landed roughly halfway between the Hollaran fighters and his own task group. The meaning began to dawn on him. Their course will take them near the Hollaran fighters. Oh! The understanding cut through his numb daze. Our fighters are going to intercept theirs! A smile broke over Twist’s face and he spun in place to face Falk, who grinned back at him.
“It’s a damned near perfect ambush!” Falk said. He chuckled and shook his head in amusement that the “old man” had come through yet again. “Here I thought our fighters were going to go after the major units but instead, ole Hurricane Hayes must’ve armed them with anti-fighter missiles and is going to bounce their attack shuttles!”
The one hundred sixty-six blue half-circles were powering away from their carriers. Twist’s computer calculated they would close to their anti-fighter missile (AFM) envelopes in just over thirty minutes, well before the Hollaran attack squadrons breached the range of their own anti-ship missiles.
“Will the Hollarans be looking for them?” Twist asked while pointing at the large formation of Brevic fighters.
“Doubtful,” Falk answered. “We’ve been fielding carriers for less than a month and even then we’ve only used them near Leda. Word about them probably hasn’t reached this far yet. Now, our fighters will have to fly inside of twenty light-minutes so they could, in theory, be picked up by a sharp Hollie sensorman but there’s a big difference between detecting a ship as big as Lochaber and something as small as a shuttle.” He raised a hand to wipe his brow. “I gotta admit, I was getting a little worried for a moment.” The man smiled sheepishly and confessed, “I was starting to think this battle might be over before it began.”
Falk was scared too, Twist realized in amazement. Just like me. A greater epiphany struck him. Everyone was scared. He recalled the moment in OTS when Sharp had balked at crossing a difficult physical training obstacle suspended high in the air. An ever-watchful MTL at the top of the obstacle shouted to Sharp, “Remember, OT, without fear, there can be no courage!”
I’ve sat here all this time afraid and defeated. I’ve been waiting for someone above me to give me some encouragement, something to hope for. And while I waited, the sailors under me languished in the same dread I felt and were waiting, hoping on me. The internal rebuke stung Twist. He winced at the row of status panels before him. Each turret display contained the names of the gunners occupying it. I haven’t even met them. Guilt forced his eyes away from the names. I’ve been so afraid of screwing up that I’ve hidden in my room, studying.
A firm resolve took hold of Twist as he activated the general co
mmunications frequency for his entire subsection. “Attention Haze-One, this is Ensign Twist. If you are following the events on the tactical plot, you know that our fighters will be intercepting the Hollaran attack wave in about half an hour. Whatever the outcome, I know that this ship, this section, will perform magnificently whether against an incoming missile attack or enemy cruisers. Please remember, even when the situation may look its darkest, we still have each other and our leaders to rely on. We’ve been given the finest fleet with the finest weapons to perform our job. Trust our leaders as much as they have entrusted us to defend them. We will not fail our mission nor the men and women around us.”
Twist lifted his finger from the panel and faced Falk. He met the NCO’s approving eyes with a resolute look. “Bill, I want you to set up a section meeting with the whole gang after this is over.”
The change in Falk’s tone of voice sent a shiver through Twist. “Ensign, you really are her son, aren’t you? Lieutenant Chappell told me we had a real hero taking over for Jacoby and now, I think he might have been right.” Perhaps embarrassed by his admission, the enlisted man turned away from Twist to mind his station once again.
Chapter 13
The next forty minutes played out in silence. Neither man spoke but the quiet in the compartment was not an uncomfortable one. Twist, past submitting to the severe doubt he had indulged in earlier, reviewed the fire control procedures, confident that he would have the chance to use them. His optimism was rewarded when neither of the Hollaran formations reacted to the Brevic fighters entering their theoretical sensor range.
At 22:07 SBMT, the Brevic fighters dipped into the standard missile engagement range of 5lm and unleashed hell. Brevic sensors caught the incredible spectacle of six hundred fifty-two AFM missiles launching from the rails beneath the craft. One moment, there had been the orderly formation of fighters; the next, a veritable wall of sensor contacts flooded the space around them. The agile missiles were fast too, streaking away from the Brevic fighters at the speed of .55c. There’s no way the Hollarans missed that flash, Twist thought while watching the missiles race forward.
