In one neat and well-synchronized unit, the enemy Cruisers turned side on to Costel’s Medium Cruisers just before the two groups of ships came within range and authored simultaneous broadsides.
Costel Iorghu’s frown deepened as his sub-flotilla’s broadside showcased a much more ragged burst of laser fire. Not just different ships firing at different times, but sometimes gunners aboard the same ship firing literally seconds apart.
As lasers flashed back and forth, Costel Iorghu’s outnumbered force started to take the worst of it. That his ships were losing the firefight wasn’t obvious. One, because while the enemy ships had to flip from side to side to bring every laser to bear, the majority of his ships had all their weaponry in the front; and two, because the Hammerheads didn’t have to protect their flanks, they could focus all their shields and armor in the front.
They might be slow and they might be old, but the one thing the Hammerhead could do was take a beating. And take one they did.
“Full power to the forward shields. Spread that out throughout the sub-flotilla,” ordered the Captain.
“Captain Myers of the People’s Authoritarian Collective is protesting the order, Sir. He says he can’t fight if he’s pulling energy from his gun deck into his shield generators,” reported the Comm. Officer.
“We’re not going to win this battle with our lasers, Coms. That’s a job the Rear Admiral has taken upon himself and the former Sector Guardsman units,” Costel said bitterly, “that being the case, our task has to be to hold them by the nose and take as little damage as possible while doing that.”
“We hold them by the nose while Admiral Bluetooth kicks them in the rear,” said the First Officer.
“Exactly,” Costel said mouth working silently.
“It’s good to see the Prometheans are good for something,” snorted the Rear Admiral.
“I don’t think that’s entirely fair. Not to the sub-flotilla which is not even a majority Promethean force or for that matter to the Prometheans themselves. Like the rest of us they’re just doing the best they can with what they have left,” said Captain Kermit.
“You know what, Kermit? There’s a reason I keep you around,” chuckled Bluetooth before falling silent in appreciation as the Sector Guard swung around the enemy formation and then fell upon their unguarded sterns.
“Why is that, Sir?” asked Kermit as the Reclamation Fleet formation began to fragment.
Bluetooth gave a start and then smirked down at him. “Because you’re just so very fair-minded. It helps give me insight into your kind of fleet officer,” said the Rear Admiral.
“Glad I could be of some service,” said the Captain.
“Order to the rest of the Guard: steady as she goes. Keep it nice and slow. Like they say, slow and steady wins the race and I don’t want to overshoot these guys. No. I want them broken,” said Bluetooth.
“Aye, Sir,” said the Captain.
Pressed on all sides, the Reclamation warships finally broke formation exposing the merchants in their midst.
“Take out those freighters,” ordered Bluetooth, leaning forward excitedly.
“Sir most of those ships are cargo haulers but some of them are passenger liners,” pointed out the Captain.
“You’re point?” Bluetooth asked shortly.
“There could be a considerable number of people onboard those liners, Sir. And the way their fleet has been keeping them in the center of their formation and refusing to run like they had in the past tells me something,” said Kermit.
“It tells me something too, Captain,” said Bluetooth with a hungry smile, “it tells me that’s their weak spot and I intend to destroy it. But it’s a good thing you pointed out those liners. I want your ship to focus exclusively on them.”
“You want us to fire on unarmed ships?” Kermit started.
“Fine, offer a surrender. If they refuse then fire on them,” ordered Bluetooth.
The Captain looked over and urgently signaled his Comm. Officer, who then quickly relayed the order.
The Comm. Officer nodded and then shook his head. He turned to his superiors.
“The Passenger Liners state that they are transporting women and children, along with a number of wounded officers and crew. They request that we wait until the battle is resolved,” said the Comm. Officer.
“In other words, they refuse,” Bluetooth nodded curtly and then looked over at Kermit and gave a nod.
“Uh, Sir…?” asked the Captain.
“An enemy ship has refused our offer to accept their surrender, Captain. The time for half measures is over. Carry out my orders,” said Bluetooth.
“Those are women and children!” blurted the Captain.
“And enemy wounded. However, you’ll note that ship is neither flying a hospital ID nor is it a purpose-built hospital hull. As such, having refused our surrender offer, they’re fair game. Prepare to fire on my command, Captain,” said the Rear Admiral.
“My men won’t fire on women and children, Sir,” said Kermit, drawing himself up.
“Then tell them to put the children in escape pods! As for the rest there’s women and, I presume at this point, wounded on both sides of the battle. This is the space age, Captain, get with the program. There’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t do just as well or even better. I won’t tolerate any cultural backsliding. Equality of the genders, Captain, or so help me I’ll stuff those regressive offenders into the airlock myself and then open the outer hatch!”
Captain Kermit looked at him wild-eyed. “There are rules of warfare, Sir,” he protested, his voice at a higher pitch than usual.
Bluetooth gave him an unflinching look. “We’ve followed the rules of warfare to the letter. Upon noting a potential transport, we offered to accept their surrender. They refused, stating they had military personnel aboard their ships along with a variety of soft targets. You know who does that, Captain? Who hides behind children, painting symbols of neutrality over their weapon dumps and builds command facilities under schools? Terrorists! And I refuse to give into terrorism. There are exceptions in the rules of warfare when a military force deliberately hides behind soft targets. Now are you ready to follow orders or do I have to find someone who will?” demanded Bluetooth.
“That’s sophistry, Sir. With all due respect, you’re dead wrong. I don’t care if it’s a technically legal, killing women and children is a war crime,” snapped Kermit.
“I respect your position, if not your decision. After what the Reclamation Fleet did to worlds like New Pacifica and Prometheus, they can rot in Hades,” Bluetooth turned, “Master at Arms, the Captain…” the Rear Admiral paused, one eye narrowing ever so slightly. He then turned to the communication’s department. “Open a communication line to Newton’s Luck,” said Bluetooth.
“Line open, Admiral,” the com-tech said quickly.
“Captain Piebold, I have a task for your ship,” said Bluetooth.
“We’re ready to carry out your orders, Admiral,” said Piebold.
“I believe you were an officer in the Aegis SDF before joining the guard. Am I correct?” he asked.
“You sure are, Rear Admiral,” Captain Piebold agreed.
“Good. I am sending your ship a target: it’s a passenger liner that refuses to surrender. I have reason to believe its loss will hit the Reclamationers where they live,” said Bluetooth.
“Really?” asked the Captain, visibly hesitating before his face hardened, “I understand, Sir. After what they’ve done to Aegis, they deserve it. Piebold out.”
“Good,” said Bluetooth with a nod a moment before Piebold disappeared from his screen.
“What? You can’t do this!” shouted Kermit.
“Ah, but I already have,” Bluetooth said, and then ignoring the Captain he turned to the Tactical Officer, “relay the targeting directions to Captain Piebold.”
“As your Flag Captain, I refuse,” snapped Kermit.
“Refuse what? You can fight your ship according
to your principles and conscience. As I said, I need you for your insight. However, yours is not the only ship that can carry out my orders. Speaking of which,” Bluetooth's eyes hardened, “I’d think twice—and three times again—the next time you consider disobeying one of my orders in the middle of combat.”
In the middle of the last verbal exchange, Captain Piebold’s ship opened fire, his broadside knocking the passenger liner out of commission.
“The liner’s dead in space,” reported Sensors.
“Piebold is calling on the liner once again to surrender. Why is he doing that, Sir?” asked the Comm. Officer, perplexed.
Kermit went white-faced. “You have to stop him. Hail Piebold and tell him I demand to speak with him before he fires again!” snapped Kermit, looking like a man at the end of his leash who suddenly dug in his heels and took a hard stand.
Before the other captain could be brought on the line, Piebold’s Cruiser fired a second time, holing the liner in half a dozen places.
In response, the Reclamation Fleet Cruisers went completely wild.
“Here they come!” Bluetooth said with eagerness as three quarters of the enemy fleet broke formation and rounded on the Sector Guard units of the Confederation Flotilla.
One by one and then in their squadrons the Reclamation Fleet accelerated and then threw themselves at Bluetooth’s flanking maneuver.
Heedless of the damage the Promethean sub-flotilla was doing to their sterns and engines the lasers of the Reclamation Fleet contingent lashed out hitting hard and fast. With more than half of their fire focused on Captain Piebold’s warship.
“Maneuver to cover Piebold,” ordered Bluetooth as the various squadrons of the sector guard in the Flotilla returned fire.
Three new Confederation cruisers attempted to maneuver between Piebold and his attackers but only two of them were successful in moving to cover his top and port flank. The third new Confederation warship tried to move into position but a Reclamation Medium Cruiser drove straight between it and Piebold seeming to not care that it risked a ramming.
“I see we finally caught their attention,” Bluetooth said with dark satisfaction, “I doubt they’ll try to run away from this battle, and I’d like to see how successful they’ll be if they try.”
“You planned for this?” Kermit looked at him with horror.
“Grow a pair, Captain. This is war,” Bluetooth sneered, “do you think the Tyrant would balk at a few civilian casualties if it suited his purpose?”
Kermit glared back at him. “While I wouldn’t put it past his wife slapping the hell out of a bunch of irate civilians, that’s a far cry from openly murdering women and children! I am also unaware of any time he has destroyed a civilian transport that wasn’t openly flying a pirate flag. I wouldn’t swear he hasn’t sent in Marines or Lancers into crowds, and maybe civilians died, but they never opened fire indiscriminately, Rear Admiral,” the Flag Captain said judgmentally.
“Nor have we,” Bluetooth said with finality, “we’re not savages or out-of-control rogue operators. If those fools on that transport had struck their fusion generators and surrendered to us they’d still be alive. Enough with your sanctimonious harping. This is war. Lives are on the line and I’ve been tasked with winning. We can’t do that until the enemy is prepared to stand and face us.”
“I’ll say you’ve no doubt succeeded in that last bit. I know if anyone did to our people what you just did to theirs I wouldn’t stop until every one of those blighters was dead,” snapped Kermit.
“Good! It’s high time those blasted Imperials paid for what they did to our Sector. You may have forgotten New Pacifica, Prometheus, Aegis, Easy Haven and more worlds than I can easily list, but I haven’t,” sneered Bluetooth, “worlds burn while you moralize. They brought me in here to make the hard calls and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
After a furious back and forth that left two squadrons of the Confederation Flotilla under Bluetooth drifting in space, the Reclamation Fleet contingent finally broke.
Just like Bluetooth planned, most of them didn’t get far. Only a handful succeeded in reaching the hyper limit and half of them never made the jump out of the star system.
All in all, eighteen Reclamation Fleet Cruisers were captured or destroyed before the battle was finally over.
“What now, Sir?” Kermit asked, stone-faced after the battle was over.
“Our first priority will be getting tech teams over to those ships and cracking their databases. I want to know where the Reclamation Fleet is and where it’s going. Priority two will be rescue and relief shuttles and boarding forces. Despite what you may think, I’m not completely heartless; priority will be given to any civilians and we’ll start looking for them on those liners we shot down. After that, priority medical care will go to any wounded ours or theirs on the battlefield,” said the Rear Admiral. “We’re not the monsters, Kermit. They are.”
“Whatever you say, Sir,” replied the Captain.
“What’s our fuel status?” demanded Bluetooth, finally starting to lose his temper with the captain.
“Due to the temporary trillium embargo from Tracto after we fired Admiral Montagne, we left Sector 25 with our fuel bunkers half full. If we keep going then pretty soon we won’t have enough fuel to make it back to Central, not to speak of Hart’s world for a reload,” Captain Kermit reported stiffly.
Admiral Bluetooth’s face hardened. “Then we’ll just have to siphon more fuel from the Reclamation Fleet. It’s fortunate we’ve captured so many of their cruisers today,” said Bluetooth.
“A stopgap measure,” agreed Kermit, “however unless we keep having victories like these we won’t be able to liberate even half the worlds of this Sector before heading home.”
“The Grand Assembly won’t leave us to wither on the vine. I’ll send another courier back home and ask them to stockpile a reserve for us in New Tau Ceti on the Sector 25/26 border,” he said firmly.
“Hopefully they’ll listen this time,” the Captain said neutrally, “we need more spare parts, too, and just about every squadron in the Flotilla was built by a different world. Even ships that are technically the same class but built by different worlds have slight but significant differences in things like air filters and laser focusing crystals. The Old Confederation may have been great about a good many things, but spare parts standardization isn’t one of them.”
“For all we know, they’ve already sent us a convoy with food, fuel and spare parts, possibly even a Constructor ship to build us a real fleet base,” Bluetooth said, ending that train of the conversation. “Until then we’ll just keep racking up victories. The blitz campaign is working out even better than planned. I refuse to slow down or hold up because of mere logistical issues.”
“Aye aye, Sir,” muttered Kermit.
Chapter 22: Trouble in Paradise
“What do you mean you jumped us out in the middle of nowhere and now you have no idea where we are?” Shepherd screamed, thrusting a finger at the old engineer like the tip of a sword.
“Don’t you point at me, lad!” Spalding cursed, throwing his hands wide. “And how, exactly, am I supposed to know where we are?”
“What do you mean 'how are you supposed to know?' You’re the only other person here!” cried Shepherd, looking panicked and about ready to kill someone. His accusing finger fell, curling up into a fist which he promptly shook in Spalding’s face.
“Calm down. Calm down, just calm down now, Mister Shepherd. It’s not as bad as all that,” Spalding informed him seriously.
“I don’t see how it could be worse. We’re cast away, marooned! Lost in space! And you are telling me to calm down?! Just how did we get out here in the first placed?” he demanded, and then the look on his face radically altered. “Yeah, and that’s another question. I have no problem imagining any number of ways you could end up lost in space. But not me. What am I doing here, Chief Engineer?”
“Now don’t get your knickers in a twi
st. You just had a small accident with a solid metal object like, say, a door or a wrench or something. I couldn’t just leave you laying there now could I?” Spalding said piously laying a hand on his heart.
“So you brought me out into your shuttle, which just so happens to have landed in the middle of nowhere, instead? A specific patch of 'nowhere,' it just so happens, you will almost certainly need a navigator to help you get back out of?” Shepherd asked sharply.
“Maybe…” Spalding admitted after a minute.
“This is just great. No, I take that back; there’s nothing great about this. This is unbelievable. You are unbelievable!” accused Shepherd, reaching up to investigate his head by touching the visibly swelled spot and grimacing in pain.
Spalding looked down at the irate young officer and started to lose his patience. “Honestly, this mission needed a navigator and it was risky. So what can I say? You fit the bill,” he grumped.
“I fit the bill? You mean I was deliberately shanghaied! Then this isn’t an accident at all. What did you do hit me with, a wrench?” he asked, rubbing his head and wincing.
“Look, we can stand around here jawing all day or you can get back to plotting us a course home,” ordered Spalding, guiltily looking away and deliberately avoiding the subject.
“Sure thing, Commander,” Shepherd said witheringly. He turned to look at the nav-computer built into the cramped lander cockpit and shook his head in disbelief. “What did you do to create this abortion? This can’t be regulation,” scoffed the Navigator.
“If the Fix flops, don’t worry. I’ve got a backup plan already worked out,” Spalding assured the younger man, “you just worry about getting us home.”
“That would be a whole lot easier if I knew where we were,” muttered the Navigator sitting down at the nav-console and pulling up a screen. In short order, he had the sensors scanning of the local starscape in order to triangulate their position.
“How did you say you got here, anyway, if you didn’t have a navigator and I was unconscious?” asked Shepherd.
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