Visions of Peace

by Matthew Sprange

  He stood up and cleared his throat to make sure he had the attention of the entire bridge.

  ‘My friends, the great Centauri Republic has been through a long night.’ Barini recited the speech given to him by the Minister precisely, knowing his words were being transmitted throughout the Jaddo and the other battlecruisers. Of its veracity he had little idea, but he knew some truth was surely buried within. He learned early in his career not to question the orders of his superiors too closely and was happy to accept the Minister’s words, especially considering what his co-operation would earn him later.

  ‘The humans, too, have suffered a great tragedy, of that you have no doubt already heard. However, they have blamed we Centauri for this dreadful event. Once more we are subjected to the lies and prejudice of other races jealous of our superiority and they will try anything to bring us down.’

  There were more than a few nods among the bridge crew, many of whom, Barini knew, had lost family and friends during the Narn and Drazi attack on Centauri Prime. ‘The Earth task force we are about to go into battle against has recently withdrawn from Republic space,’ he continued. ‘They have already attacked our colony at Ragesh and destroyed several civilian liners that had docked there.’ There was now a collective gasp of astonishment from the crew and it was well they were surprised, thought Barini. Attacking civilian shipping was an act of barbarity, one the Centauri had been accused of by the Interstellar Alliance. For one of the Alliance’s member governments to now do the same was hypocrisy of the highest order.

  ‘They have retreated back into Narn space, no doubt to assess the effects of their raid and plan their next target. We must not give them the chance! When we launch our attack, I want each of you to be aware of the Centauri, high and low, man and child, who have already paid for the humans’ arrogance with their lives. Show them no mercy; give them no time to respond! We will press the attack and wipe them from space so they may never attack our people again. My friends, can you find it within yourselves to take the fight to our enemies and avenge our people?’

  Barini’s words were met with a loud cheer, and he nodded in approval. With a quick wave of his hand, he motioned his first officer to return everyone to their duties and then collapsed into his chair once more. Bringing a handkerchief from a pocket in his great coat, Barini mopped his brow and took a deep breath. The speech took much effort, and he reflected that being a Vocator on a battlecruiser was probably one of his wiser career choices. Leading a royal guard attack unit on the ground, Coutari waving high in the air as he urged them forward, might appear very heroic, but it really did not suit his physique or passion for over-indulgence. Besides, Barini had become aware that while swordsmen and their officers might cover themselves in glory at the Royal Court, officers on battlecruisers were the ones who made history and shaped the Republic. He had no doubts about his role in the universe.

  Once the bridge calmed down, Barini gave the orders that would set the squadron on its way. ‘Signal to the other ships, forward half speed.’

  ‘Are the communications disruptors fully functional?’

  ‘Ready and waiting, Vocator. On your word we’ll flood the spectrum.’

  ‘Excellent. Confirm with the other ships their standing orders and remind them that once we initiate communications disruption, we will have no further contact with them. Then stand by to make the jump to hyperspace, on my mark. The humans will not know what hit them.’

  July 7th 2263, The EAS Corax, Deep Space, Narn Regime

  With a size and mass large enough to blot out the stars, the EAS Corax was a leviathan of space, one of the few Poseidon-class supercarriers and the largest vessel ever constructed by the Earth Alliance. At nearly a mile and a half long, it had required constant wrangling in the Earth senate to push forward the funding necessary for such an ambitious project, but any human with an ounce of interest in spacecraft and space travel admitted it was worth the money and the wait. With a total crew complement of over ten thousand, the Corax was designed to be the crux of any fleet. Acting as a command centre, an entire war could theoretically be run from its bridge, and nearly one hundred Starfury and Thunderbolt fighters nestled within its cavernous hangers, the entire flock capable of being launched within minutes.

  Truly, the Poseidon ships were a miracle of human ingenuity. The Corax’s task force relied on the presence of the Hyperion cruisers Lexington, Ares, Eros and Persephone for its strength, though an aging Nova dreadnought, the Dowding, was attached to the formation for the duration of their current mission. These six warships lay in deep space, light-years from any star system, as they awaited orders. Flights of Starfuries flew periodic circuits of the task force on standard patrol routes, while several Hermes troop transports, tiny compared to the larger warships, hung with their larger cousins. Across the entire fleet tension was mounting, and all officers had been instructed to keep their crews busy lest anxiety lead to internal conflict.

  Sitting in his office at the rear of the Corax’s bridge, Admiral Wilson sympathised with the men and women of his fleet. Those lucky enough to serve in the mid-section of the Corax were enjoying the advantage of a rotating hull, much like that of an Omega destroyer, but those in the drive section or hanger bays, and on every other ship of the fleet for that matter, were stuck in zero-gravity, likely buckled into their work stations or tied down in their cots if off duty. Wilson had served on such ships in the past and knew they were less than comfortable, especially when the vessel was simply floating in deep space, waiting for orders from Earth.

  Everyone knew they would be seeing action, if not outright war, very soon. He tried to keep his crew occupied, but even an Admiral only had so much experience to draw upon when imagining creative activities for keeping troops busy. At least the Starfury pilots were happy, he surmised, as they were permitted more flight time on standard patrols than they would have ever received in orbit around an Earth colony. It wasn’t combat, but Wilson knew that mattered little to a pilot.

  The Corax and its task force had been deployed here, in deep space within the Narn Regime and within striking distance of several Centauri targets, since the attack on EarthDome. Though a few hours motionless in deep space was easy enough to endure on a ship with artificial gravity, Wilson knew the captains of the other vessels would eventually have discipline problems. He signed off on a number of reports detailing flight rosters for the squadrons of the Corax and then stood to begin another inspection of the bridge, intending to pass on a few comments of praise, which would go a long way to keeping his crew happy until the senators back on Earth got things running again and decided on a course of action.

  A whining alert sounded from the console of the comms station, an irritating tone the officer shut down while consulting his displays.

  ‘Sir,’ he called to the Admiral. ‘We are getting interference across the electromagnetic bands, broad frequencies. Very powerful. It just sprang up.’

  Wilson crossed the bridge with some speed, concerned but not entirely ungrateful for the break in monotony. ‘Where is it coming from?’

  ‘Seems non-localised, sir. If I thought it was possible...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think it’s coming from hyperspace. Maybe a confluence of shockwaves or something. But that could not break into realspace, and no one has EW that can do that.’

  Wilson could not help but take a short intake of breath as his chest tightened. ‘We have heard the Centauri were developing something like this,’ he muttered, as much to himself as his comms officer. ‘Contact the other ships. See if they can get a lock on its source.’

  A brief paused followed as the officer switched through several communications protocols. ‘Sir, we can’t get through. The interference is blocking all comms,’ he reported. ‘All we have is the auxiliary hardwired system--internal comms only.’

  Standing up straight from the display, Wilson frowned. The Centauri. . .

  ‘Red alert!’ he barked to the bridge. ‘Scramble all sq
uadrons and activate defence grid! Prepare for attack!’

  To their credit, the crew of the bridge paused only for a split second as the full meaning of his orders sank in. They leapt to their stations and issued orders for the rest of the ship.

  ‘Do we have Gold Channel to Earth?’ Wilson demanded. ‘No sir, all externals are affected.’

  ‘Damn it. Bring the engines on line and order the squadrons to adopt a standard defensive screen,’ Wilson said. ‘Remind them they won’t have contact with us once they leave the hangers. I only hope the other ships see what we are doing and figure this out.’

  Ahead of the rotating section of the Corax, nearly one hundred hanger doors opened across the length of its flat hull and within seconds, Starfury and Thunderbolt fighters emerged, immediately firing their manoeuvring jets to take position close to the carrier. To see a Poseidon supercarrier perform a full alert scramble was the dream of many EarthForce cadets. Scores of fighters fell out of the immense ship, then sped away to their pre-designated positions. Normally, the fighter controllers on board the Corax would be close to overload as they monitored the flights, keeping an eye on those of their peers--a tough proposition when so many craft were in such close proximity. With communications down, however, they found themselves useless, unable to do anything except monitor the progress of their pilots and pray that the long hours training for this manoeuvre paid dividends now.

  Little more than half of the fighters had been deployed when another alert rang across the bridge of the Corax.

  ‘Admiral, jump points!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Right on top of us--aft!’

  Wilson cursed and rushed to the tactical station. The officer there, a young woman he had recently promoted to Lieutenant, mutely indicated the three jump points behind the task force, worryingly close.

  ‘Come about!’ Wilson ordered. Turning back to the tactical officer, he asked ‘Positive silhouette?’

  ‘Entering realspace now, sir,’ she reported. ‘Three battlecruisers, Primus class.’

  ‘Hell.’ With decent preparation, Wilson might have fancied his chances against the Centauri ships, but taken by surprise like this, they could do significant damage before a proper response was ready.

  ‘Have any of the other ships taken action?’ he asked.

  ‘The Eros matched our course change, and I think its weapons are now online, but the others are only just starting to react. The Centauri are launching fighters.’

  ‘Hold fire until we see their what their intentions are. This may just be Centauri bravado. But charge up the pulse cannon, just in case.’ Wilson did not believe his own words in the least but he would not be responsible for starting a war with the Centauri. He did not know what had happened in the galaxy since taking position here, but he wondered if events had not already accelerated towards Armageddon.

  Sweeping majestically from their jump points, the three Primus battlecruisers disgorged their light Sentri fighters, and the small crescent-shaped craft sped forward to engage the massing Starfuries. Even as the tactical officer on the bridge of the Corax announced an energy spike from the Centauri ships, their massive battle lasers erupted with thick beams of red light that reached across the short gulf of space to slice into the Lexington, Persephone and Dowding. A hard evasive manoeuvre from the Persephone caused the beam targeted at it to cut into the forward hull, slicing the main pulse cannon turret free but otherwise leaving the ship mostly unharmed. The aging Dowding took the blast full on. Though debris and armour plating were blasted across space and atmosphere vented from several compartments, the dreadnought held firm and began to turn its broadside to the attackers, where its massed weapon batteries could be brought to bear.

  The Lexington erupted fire into space as the penetrating laser beam sliced into its superstructure just below the bridge. It carried on towards the stern at a downward angle, blasting through armour, decking and support beams. The cruiser was torn in two by the attack as secondary explosions from detonating power relays began to spew fire across the damaged sections of the hull. Within seconds, feedback to the Lexington’s main reactor overloaded the remaining control systems, and the ship exploded in a brilliant white light that sent chunks of metal spinning across space to impact the hulls of the other task force ships.

  As they moved closer, the massed particle arrays on the Centauri ships found their range and hammered pre-designated targets, pounding the nearest ships of the task force, the Eros and Dowding. Unlike the huge battle lasers, the Earth ships had defences against these energy weapons, and the interceptor defence grids of both sprang into life, aiming at the incoming fire to dissipate its energy before it could strike their hulls. Within seconds, the interceptors of both were running at maximum capacity, and some Centauri fire made an impact on their armour.

  On board the Corax, the crew was stunned at having lost the Lexington so quickly, but Admiral Wilson immediately focussed their minds on the task at hand. The supercarrier was not a frontline warship, having been designed to direct battles from afar. However, as he could not command his fleet effectively, Wilson knew he must send the Corax to fight the Centauri directly. Without the heavy armour and weaponry of a warship, he also knew he would have to trust to the ship’s massive bulk to survive attack and worry about repairs later.

  ‘Is the Eros still with us?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir, maintaining formation. The Persephone is also coming about, and the Dowding has already taken station.’

  ‘Good.’ Wilson had commanded a Nova dreadnought before and knew the thinking of the Dowding’s captain. Built for delivering devastating broadsides while weathering attacks, the Dowding would simply hang in space, raking the Centauri ships with its turrets. Now it was in position, and things would begin to even up.

  ‘Set course for the battlecruiser in the middle of their formation,’ Wilson commanded. ‘The Eros should realise what we are doing and set course to match. If we combine our fire, we might be able to put it out of action quickly. With luck, the others will guess our intentions after we engage and join in.’

  With agonising slowness, the ponderous Corax turned to face one of the Centauri ships, its engines straining to shift the massive vessel. The Eros followed closely and then took position just off its starboard bow, slightly ahead to provide the attackers with another target.

  As the Centauri battlecruisers closed range, the space between the two ships erupted in a hail of energy as weapons on both sides fired and recycled as soon as they had acquired solid locks. The Dowding unleashed a fearsome hail of fire from combined laser and pulse turrets that scoured the hull of a Primus, flaying armour and disabling several weapons batteries. The Centauri’s return fire was disrupted by the Dowding’s interceptor arrays, and what little got through simply pattered off the metres thick armour of the old ship, a testament to its solid design.

  Between the huge capital ships, a multitude of vicious dogfights between Starfury and Sentri sprang up, little pockets of fire flashing across space as fighters were destroyed. The Starfury pilots were confident in their training and the capabilities of their fighters but, lacking communication with their controllers or squadron leaders, their response was sluggish and poorly formed. The pre-briefed Centauri pilots, though outnumbered and pushing their tiny craft to their limits, began to inflict significant losses on the Earth fighters.

  Having turned to face the Centauri, the Eros and Corax joined the fight, pulse cannon chattering as they mashed the lead battlecruiser. Fires raged from several areas of its wide, flat hull but it kept moving forward, switching targets to engage the carrier and cruiser thundering towards it. A squadron of Thunderbolts had followed the Corax, and they ignited their afterburners, speeding forward to launch missiles against the battlecruiser, adding their weight to the match.

  The Centauri particle weapons lacked the raw punch of the Earth ship’s pulse cannon, and they were susceptible to interception but made up for this in accuracy, and every ship in th
e task force was showing signs of heavy battle. The Centauri’s battle lasers recycled once more, draining their advanced capacitors as they gushed energy into generators and focussing lenses. Red light tore across space to spear into the Eros and Persephone. The Persephone was lucky once more, taking a glancing hit to the rear engine section that immediately arrested its acceleration. The Eros was lanced by the lasers of two of the battlecruisers, their combined fire punching through the ship’s prow to skewer the hull right down its length. When the lasers finally exhausted their energy, the Eros hung in space, listing slightly to starboard. Its hull was a shattered wreck, fires burning from broken armour plates all down its length. What few crew survived were trapped in sealed sections, praying that the Centauri looked to another target or showed mercy.

  The bridge of the Corax rocked constantly from the recoil of its pulse cannon and enemy fire impacting its hull. Wilson sprang from station to station, monitoring the positions of the fleets, the status of the Corax’s weapons and incoming damage reports. In truth, he felt a little helpless. Still unable to break through the Centauri jamming , he could not direct his fleet--and once his own crew had been given a target, they were competent enough to go about their duties without constant management.

  The designers of the Poseidon ships had not seen fit to mount thick armour plating on the carrier, and Wilson was now beginning to regret their decision. He was just thankful that most of the Centauri fire had so far struck the mostly empty hanger bays. While that might pose a problem later when the fighters had to return to base, it did not significantly affect the fighting performance of his ship.