Visions of Peace

by Matthew Sprange

  Ward’s own ship, the command destroyer Heracles, appeared first, the slowly spinning section of its hull seeming to turn purposefully as the crew inside monitored the condition of the rest of the fleet and scanned the Centauri defences around the target world. Confident his fleet could handle anything the Centauri threw at it, Ward stood in the centre of the bridge and listened to his officers account for each ship. Three Hyperion-class cruisers and four frontline Omega destroyers gave him the heavy punch he needed, while several new Chronos attack frigates, the latest design from Earth’s spacedocks, would protect his flanks. Two Oracle scout cruisers were the eyes of the fleet, and every ship would benefit from the support of the Fraternity, an Avenger-class heavy carrier with nearly fifty Starfuries nestled in its hangers. Officers waited their whole careers to command a fleet this impressive.

  ‘Destroyers and cruisers, form up on us,’ Ward said, the confidence in his voice carrying to the other ships in the fleet as they fired their main engines and began the approach. ‘Protect the Fraternity. Frigates to our flanks and keep the Claros and Didyma far back.’ The last command was to ensure no enemy could directly engage his scouts, for he would have need of them later.

  ‘Sir, the Centauri just activated their mines,’ a junior officer reported from the sensor suite.

  Ward nodded, expecting the news. ‘Standard Centauri response. All ships, deploy fighters. Sweep those mines clear.’

  From the open maws of the Omega destroyers and yawning hanger bays of the Fraternity, scores of Starfury and Thunderbolt fighters screamed into space with a rapidity born of constant drilling. Ward was not overly concerned with the mines, small floating satellites with tiny but powerful particle arrays. Using automated systems, they could co-ordinate their firepower to target incoming ships, but they posed little threat to a fleet this size, and it was unlikely they could penetrate the armour of his largest warships. Still, Ward preferred not to tempt fate, as a lucky hit could cause any number of delays. Far better to follow standard procedure for dealing with standard defences.

  Once free of their motherships, the fighters formed into squadrons and fired afterburners to converge on the mines across a wide front, forcing the defences to split their fire, not allowing them to concentrate on any one fighter. Designed to hammer small and medium-sized warships, the targeting system of the particle array mounted on each mine failed time and again to lock on to the tiny and fast-moving fighters, and several drained their power reserves fruitlessly as they discharged into empty space.

  From the point of view of the EarthForce pilots, however, the situation was a little less clear. Their entire forward view suddenly filled with bright bolts of energy as the mines fired randomly. Small packets of lethal light peppered space around them, and many pilots jinked instinctively, keen to avoid damage that would leave them sitting ducks for the Centauri defences.

  The Thunderbolt pilots commenced their attack runs first, their longer-ranged wing-mounted missiles acquiring the front line of mines. Independently targeted, each Thunderbolt unleashed four missiles that blazed a trail of fire across the darkness. Explosions added more light to the battle, causing the visors of many pilots to automatically dim for a brief second. Almost immediately, the weight of fire from the mines diminished as the missiles took their toll. Their opposition crippled, the Thunderbolts and Starfuries swept forward to engage the mines directly with short-ranged pulse weapons.

  Following their training, each pilot constantly switched targets, pointing his fighter at one mine, firing a brief salvo, then violently changing course to come about on another, repeating the process a dozen times. This tactic allowed them a relatively straight run at a mine, but by turning away after only a second or so, they were able to fool the tracking systems of their automated enemy. Though the pulse weapons of the fighters were too weak to destroy a mine outright, the combined attacks of scores of Starfuries and Thunderbolts, each focussing on a target for a short time, soon blasted through armour to explode the volatile crystalline core within.

  A few unlucky pilots were killed as their fighters exploded in a hail of particle fire, caught by a tracking system just as they completed their attack run or hit by a stream intended for another target altogether.

  The skirmish lasted only minutes, and while Ward regretted losing pilots so early in the expedition, it was inevitable. When that much charged energy was let loose in such a small area of space, people died. Once the last mine finally fell silent, he gave the order to break off.

  ‘Fighters, disperse into your patrol patterns. Start bringing squadrons back to base in twenty minutes, maintaining standard fleet patrol roster at all times.’

  ‘Contact.’ The officer of the sensor suite relayed his readings with a calmness that encouraged Ward. He knew his people were well trained, but battle was always the baptism of fire that demonstrated their true character.

  ‘Report.’

  ‘Sir, reading... twenty-four bogeys leaving planetary orbit, dead ahead. Looks like fighters, sir.’

  Are they on attack vector?’ Ward asked.

  ‘No, sir. Looks like they are running,’ the officer answered with a smile.

  ‘Very wise. Keep track of them but broaden your scans. Any ships in the vicinity?’

  ‘Negative, sir.’

  ‘Claros, Didyma, are you with us?’ Ward asked, his query automatically routed by the ensign at the communications station to the two Oracle scout cruisers behind the Heracles.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Online,’ came the immediate responses.

  ‘Get your eyes and ears running. I don’t want to be caught by surprise.’

  There was a brief pause before the captain of the Claros answered. ‘Contact. Relaying wide-band scans to you now.’

  Ward turned to his bridge crew as they worked to analyse the incoming data stream.

  ‘Sir, contacts are Vorchan-class, six of them. About two hundred klicks away, though the signal keeps getting scrambled.’

  Ward nodded. ‘Claros, you may have an opposite number out there. Start looking.’

  ‘Confirmed,’ said the voice over the communications link.

  There was little that could throw off the sensor sweeps of an Oracle-class scout, as its electronics suite was constantly being updated by EarthForce R&D to keep pace with the other races of the galaxy. The Centauri, however, were known to possess electronic warfare capabilities that were at least the equal of Earth’s. The presence of a scout in a fleet not only gave it far-seeing eyes but also allowed it to shroud friendly ships with interference or display ghost readings on enemy scanners. On their own, scout ships were rarely a match for frontline warships, and Ward was not overly concerned about the presence of the Vorchans, as each massed less than any of his ships with the exception of the frigates.

  ‘Contact,’ the voice of the Claros’ captain echoed across the Heracles’ bridge again. ‘Admiral, we have him. Fifty clicks behind the Vorchans. All blips are moving directly away from us. Obviously they don’t like what they see.’

  ‘Roger that, Claros,’ Ward replied as he turned his attention back to his own bridge officers. ‘Deploy the frigates, back them up with six ‘Fury squadrons. Chase those interlopers out of our sky.’

  He held no hope in successfully engaging the Centauri ships, as they had a good lead already and were notoriously fast compared to typical Earth Alliance vessels. However, a Centauri response was expected in this system, and he could live without a rogue scout at the edges of his engagement envelope interfering with his scanners as a larger fleet approached. If the enemy decided to stand and fight, hoping to take out his frigates piecemeal while the rest of his fleet was too far away to lend support, he knew the new Chronos design would give the Centauri pause. Though small, the frigate had armour as thick as that on his own destroyer, and its railgun turrets would tear through the Vorchans. So long as they could gain a lock through its electronic fog, the frigates would make literal mincemeat out of any Centauri scout, though he doubted its capt
ain would be so foolish as to let them get that close.

  Summoning a tactical display on a nearby console, Ward watched his frigates and fighters peel off towards the contacts on the far side of the screen. Within a minute, the Centauri acted as he had predicted, increasing their speed to leave the Earth ships trailing far behind.

  ‘Sir, energy spike,’ called one of his officers. ‘They are opening a jump point. Vortex is stable. Looks like they are holding it open long enough for all their ships.’

  ‘We are going to see them again later when the next lot of Centauri show up. Don’t worry, we’ll get another chance at them!’ Ward’s bravado raised a quiet laugh across the bridge. ‘Recall the frigates. Any update on the fighters?’

  ‘Didyma reports they are heading into deep space, sir!’ Now it was Ward’s turn to smile at the scout captain’s elaboration.

  ‘Tell them to keep the fighters pegged. There are not many of them, but we don’t want to be surprised by a couple of squadrons of Sentris when the fighting really begins,’ he replied.

  Ward nodded and sighed quietly. So far, so good. Everything had gone to plan, and the system was effectively theirs. Now they would just wait for the hammer fall.

  ‘Instruct the Claros and Didyma to jump to hyperspace and begin their long-ranged probes,’ said Ward. ‘I want to know the second they detect an incoming fleet. Remind both captains they are to return with all haste when they find the Centauri but to only jump back to realspace when they judge it is safe to do so. We will need their services in battle, but I don’t want to lose either of them to a Centauri squadron just because they were rushing to get back.’

  ‘Confirmed, Admiral.’

  Firing their lateral thrusters, the two Oracle scout cruisers turned from the rest of the fleet as they opened yellow spinning j ump points that would carry them to hyperspace.

  Huge ion engines igniting, they waited for the hyperspace currents within to settle for a brief second before surging forward on a tide of white fire, quickly disappearing into the dark centre of the jump point. With a flash of brilliant light, the vortex shrunk into nothingness as it disappeared. The two scout cruisers began their trek through hyperspace as they searched for any sign of approaching Centauri.

  Ward spent the next few minutes deploying the remainder of his fleet around the inhabited world below them, taking full advantage of the gravity well. Spreading the ships out in high orbit, he ensured no enemy could approach using the shadow of the planet to mask an attack, while his own ships had the option of either breaking out of the gravitational pull of the world, weak this far away, or firing their engines and plummeting downwards, diving into low orbit where they could use the gravity to slingshot themselves at great speed around the planet to surprise an enemy on the other side.

  All his preparations completed, Ward knew his captains were familiar with their standing orders should the Centauri appear.

  Now all they could do was wait.

  July 9th 2263, Hyperspace, Centauri Republic

  Like two great behemoths, the battleships Turhan and Cartagia moved slowly across the rippling red plasma clouds of hyperspace. Following a beacon track to their rendezvous, they moved inexorably forward, hyperspace shock waves scattering off their hulls even as the creeping fingers of moving gravity wells slid feebly from their huge mass. Ships of this great size posed certain problems for their helmsmen while around a busy world with constant orbital traffic, but here in hyperspace they became a dream to handle. Hazardous eddies and currents that would send smaller ships spinning away into the abyss did nothing to disrupt the smooth passage of an Octurion battleship. By comparison, the escorting Primus battlecruisers, still large warships in their own right, were forced to make constant course corrections as they navigated the strange other dimension of hyperspace.

  Only a few Octurions existed, as each required a massive amount of resources to complete, draining the economy of entire colony worlds. One was built for every Emperor who took to the throne of the Centauri Republic as a mark of his absolute power and authority, whether or not he actually wielded it, though traditionally few survived in office long enough to actually use the ship as a royal transport. In a galaxy where every military force possessed destroyers, frigates and cruisers, the Octurion was a true battleship in every sense of the word. Few vessels could repel its sheer weight of fire.

  Command of an Octurion was by royal appointment only, and it almost always fell to a popular noble of the Centaurum who bucked for the honour of the highest post in active combat service. Aboard the Turhan, Minister Provenza stood imperiously, unmoving, as he watched his crew go about their duties. The bridge structure rose from the rear hull of the battleship like a massive office block, with the bridge itself occupying the entire top level. Metres of thick Corrilium armour were layered above their heads for protection, an expensive extravagance for a warship but a mere fitting on a vessel such as this. The bridge was a lavish affair, fit for the Emperor it had once been intended to carry on state visits to colony worlds. At its rear a tall throne was mounted, though none but the Emperor himself was permitted to approach it without royal decree. Offices to its side permitted closed sessions with ambassadors and military officials or a moment of solitude for the monarch. The walls and consoles were decked in acres of rich cream-coloured hide, while soft and expensive carpets lined the floor.

  Though such luxury was a far cry from the military ships of other races, few visitors could fail to sense the latent power while standing on the bridge of the Turhan or its sister ship, the Cartagia. The massed ranks of display consoles and control stations, all manned by some of the finest officers in the Centauri fleet, were obviously state of the art, while the front viewport looked down at the main hull of the ship, extending well over a mile out into space. Huge turrets, dozens of metres across, studded the purple hull, hinting at the purpose for which the Octurion had been designed. Though officially classed as a royal transport, the Octurion could defend itself against entire fleets.

  Waiting patiently, Minister Provenza ticked off the minutes as they sailed through hyperspace to the fleet’s rendezvous point. The Emperor himself gave the order not to just turn away invading fleets, but utterly crush them. No doubt was to be left in any part of the galaxy that invading the Republic resulted in the severest response. Never again would the Centauri suffer the humiliation of seeing their homeworld bombed into ruin.

  To the Minister’s memory, no time in Centauri history saw this much military might gathered in one place. Two Octurions and six escorting battlecruisers made a fearsome display, but they had been deemed insufficient for the mission’s objectives of total annihilation. After leaving the staging post at Gorash, they were to join with a secondary fleet of support ships, ranging from cruisers to gunships. Waiting in hyperspace they would then keep station, listening for any sign of an Earth fleet entering nearby territory.

  ‘Minister?’ An aide reporting from the control station interrupted Provenza’s thoughts of final and total victory. He raised his chin in acknowledgement.

  ‘We have a report from our scout at Beta III. An Earth fleet has appeared and blockaded the system. What are your orders?’

  ‘Signal the supporting fleet,’ he answered. ‘They are to head to Beta III immediately. Time their arrival to coincide with ours. We will make the jump into realspace at the far edge of the system. Give the humans time to see what they are up against.’

  As you wish, Minister.’ The aide bowed and backed away.

  Provenza smiled to himself. He had been appointed command of the Turhan six months ago but had yet to see its guns fired in anger. With a guaranteed victory like this, he would get his wish and be lauded by the Emperor himself. Nothing less than a position in the Royal Court would be his prize.

  July 9th 2263, Tuzanor, Minbar

  Accept and decode,’ said Sheridan. He waited with some anxiety for the incoming communication and tapped his fingers on his desk while the security protocols were identified a
nd translated. Seconds later the figure of a man with a boyish face greeted him, though the Anla’Shok robes promised a hidden strength beyond any lack of years.

  ‘Ranger Sosa,’ Sheridan said. ‘What do you have for us?’

  ‘It has been confirmed, Mr. President,’ said the Ranger. ‘The Centauri have sent several fleets to the border worlds invaded by the Earth Alliance. However, the largest and fastest moving is headed towards Beta III, as expected. The Earth fleet there is led by an Admiral Ward.’

  Sheridan frowned. ‘I don’t know him. What is his strength?’

  A reinforced task force. He has access to supporting fleets if need be, though they are at least an hour or two away.’

  And the Centauri?’

  ‘They are aiming to wipe out the Earth fleet. The reports of the Turhan and Cartagia being launched are confirmed--they are leading the Centauri fleet. We have counted more than thirty other vessels in the area, all converging on Beta III from hyperspace.’

  ‘I see.’ Sheridan thought furiously. He retained certain sympathies to his old colleagues in EarthForce and was reluctant to go down a path that would see so many killed in battle. On the other hand, he had greater responsibilities to the Interstellar Alliance and the billions of sentients that lived under its protection. He knew what action had to be taken but hesitated. Committing the White Star fleet was a risky move, as it was unlikely to sway the Centauri when they had a force that powerful.

  ‘Listen to me very carefully,’ he said. ‘This is important. I am putting you at the head of the entire White Star fleet, every craft that can reach your position in time. By our calculations, you will have sixteen ships behind you. Take them to Beta III, put yourself between the Centauri and Earth fleets and do everything you can to stop the shooting. You know what is at stake.’