“What’s the range to the target?” he asked.
“We’re within five minutes to our maximum weapons’ envelope,” said the weapons officer.
The destroyer was so concentrated on its attack on Elysium that it had failed to detect the Warrior. They held steady in their orbit and continued to engage the planet’s defenses.
Gallant was glad to see that Elysium was making good use of its satellites and maintaining a firing rate to hold off the enemy. He watched as the planet’s defense repeatedly fired antimissiles to prevent the enemy’s nuclear warheads from wreaking havoc on the population. The ship’s telescopes displayed the planet’s images on the main view screen and the glow of explosions mesmerized the bridge crew. There was a point where the defenses seemed to be weakening.
He gulped. Something about one of the satellites appeared strange. A moment later, it exploded and disappeared from the screen. Then, another bright flash appeared on the view screen. It showed another multi-megaton explosion high in the planet’s atmosphere.
CIC reported, “That last explosion may have caused serious damage to the planet’s surface but we’re uncertain how close it was to the populated area.”
Gallant nodded silently, his face contorted from concern.
The sensor operator reported, “We’re well within the Titan’s sensor range, sir. They should be detecting us at any time now.”
“Very well,” he said. Looking over at his bridge team, he saw them all as ready and willing—to face whatever lay before them.
He ordered, “Weapons officer, charge all weapons.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Over the ship’s intercom, Chief Howard’s voice intruded, “Bridge, Engineering; reactor temperature is pegged high. We’ll reach core meltdown within three minutes.”
“Very well,” said Gallant. He knew Howard wouldn’t make such a report unless things were already dire.
He ordered, “Engineering; evacuate nonessential personnel. Initiate high radiation protocol for remaining personnel.”
That would mean serious illness for those remaining, but he would let Howard handle that. He couldn’t wait any longer; he had to get the destroyer’s attention.
He ordered, “On my command, open fire on Tango-One with the energy cannon. Maybe we can convince them to change their minds.”
The empty darkness of space remained on the view screen. There were several notable exceptions to the blackness. The light of the star was nearly centered in the screen. Elysium with its moon was off to the right. Near the planet was the Titan destroyer, focused on its victim.
“Fire,” ordered Gallant.
The Warrior’s primary armament, the FASER cannon released a huge energy pulse at the enemy.
“The Titan’s should be rethinking their situation—right about now.”
The energy burst was ineffective from the long distance, but it finally caught the aliens’ attention.
Roberts said, “Skipper, Tango-One is shifting their position. They may intend to fire missiles at us before they finish off Elysium.”
A minute later, the sensor operator reported, “Sir, Tango-One is breaking orbit.”
The destroyer was maneuvering away from the planet.
Gallant immediately ordered, “Engineering; reduce power to two-thirds and get any personnel suffering from radiation sickness to the medical bay.”
“Aye aye, sir,” came the relieved voice of Chief Howard.
The sensor operator said, “Tango-One is now on an intercept course toward the Warrior, sir”
Like two light-weight bantam boxers, the ships squared off, approaching each other as if coming to the center of the ring to exchange blows.
He knew that he must not wait an instant preparing for the ship-to-ship action.
The weapons officer reported, “Sir, we’re now within effective weapon’s range.”
Gallant said, “Prepare to open fire with the high energy cannon.”
He calculated the alternative tactical actions he could take . . . Finally, we can engage.
He ordered, “Helm, come left to new heading 090, mark 2.”
When the maneuver was complete, he let the Warrior take the first swing and said, “Open fire!”
The weapons officer fired on the enemy, and then again, with increasing effectiveness while the destroyer prepared to fire missiles in return.
Then Tango-One threw its first punch—a salvo of two missiles.
From CIC, Midshipman Stedman reported the tactical ranges and proximity of the bursts in a high pitched squeaky voice, “The destroyer has launched missiles.” He reported the trajectory and range details to the weapons officer.
Gallant waited tensely as the incoming missiles approached. When his strained senses indicated that the right moment had arrived, he ordered, “Launch Mongoose one and two.”
Two Mongoose anti-missiles missiles left the Warrior. As a captain who knew every vibration and quiver of his ship, he could feel a slight vibration.
Roberts reported the trajectory and updated their progress. He said, “The antimissiles have destroyed one of the incoming missiles.”
Gallant ordered, “Weapons; train lasers and plasmas weapons on the remaining missile.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
He ordered, “Helm, hard to starboard.”
The Warrior twisted through space spewing out energy and plasma bolts to eliminate the remaining threat while the ship recharged its high energy cannon.
Satisfyingly, the Warrior’s medium weapons eliminated the Titan missile.
The ship had responded magnificently, having evaded their first exchange of fire. Now it was in an advantage firing position.
“FASER ready, Skipper,” said a restless Roberts.
“Fire.”
The energy blast glanced off the enemy destroyer’s hull, inflicting considerable radiation damage, but not seriously diminishing the destroyer’s capabilities.
Roberts said, “Skipper, now would be a good time to enter stealth mode.”
Gallant said, “No. The energy requirements would make the ship vulnerable during the transition.”
CIC reported, “Tango-One has fired another salvo.”
Though they were too far away to see the actual missiles on their view screen, Gallant could imagine them rocketing through space leaving a distinctive trail of flame and particles as they navigated the empty void between them.
He ordered the release of counter measures including radar confusing material and decoy drones, but this time one enemy missile came so close that he imagined he could hear a ‘SWISH’ as it went past, before exploding harmlessly in space.
Again the Titan maneuvered and fired. This salvo was dead on course causing the Warrior’s collision detection alarm to flash red.
He asked, “Sensors; range and bearing to the target.”
“Range 2 light-seconds, bearing 100 mark3.”
“Lock plasma and laser weapons on target and fire.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Gallant ordered, “Helm, correct our intercept course to match the enemy’s maneuvers.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The Warrior swung slightly to minimize its angle. By virtue of its superior accumulated speed, they closed rapidly.
He squirmed in his chair to get a better view of the screen.
The Warrior scored another superficial hit on the destroyer’s hull.
Gallant ordered another course change, “Helm, hard to port.”
He thought . . . We’re closing fast which will give the destroyer a momentary advantage when we pass through its optimal missile range, but once we emerge past it, we can block its access to Elysium. Then if it attacks, we can coordinate our counterattack with the planet.
His train of thought was derailed by two explosions.
The Titan missiles had exploded very near the Warrior—one to port and the other to starboard—close enough to bracket the ship. The multiple warheads exploded around the ship. It see
med as if the heavens were caving in. The proximity of the powerful warheads produced radiation that overwhelmed the Warrior’s shields, penetrated its titanium hull, and shocked its inertial compensators. The overlapping explosions rocked the ship—shaking it like a child’s rattle.
The powerful radiation blasts splashed against the ship’s hull. Gallants instinctively grabbed the support bar to hold on. The radiation blast caused such blast heat within the Warrior that some internal fluid tanks within the ship exploded. There was a blinding flash and some fire damage which produced a smoldering display on the bridge. An acidic stench of smoke and ash invaded his nostrils, forcing a spasmodic cough.
What happened?
There was damage to many areas of the ship and reports began coming in to the bridge. A fitful red glow appeared on one bulkhead. The end result of the thermonuclear fury was damage to the ship and several wounded crew members. Major piping and pumps flex on their mounts. A ruptured pipe sent hydraulic fluids into some compartments. The deafening noise of the internal ship explosions required the crew to respond with damage control teams dashing about. The injured crewmen were thrown about, but they were quickly tended to. A fire broke out in the operations compartment and smoke enveloped the bridge. The automatic fire suppressing equipment fought back and several crewmen struggled to keep the damage from interfering with the ship’s ability to continue fighting.
Gallant could feel the Warrior’s shudder from the damage.
Despite being securely strapped into his acceleration chair, Gallant felt as if he were being pulled away. It forced him back into his chair. Breathlessly, he relied on his tight-fitting pressure suit for survival from large G-forces. He held on to a control panel, but he was rocked back and forth so hard he suffered a mild concussion. He struggled to gather his senses. He touched his forehead to wipe away blood, but he was unaware of how he had cut his head on a nearby console, nearly knocking him unconscious. His overwhelmed senses, forced him to shake his head. Sound buzzing in his ears.
Almost at his feet, a member of the damage control team was overcome by smoke and collapsed. Quickly a med team took him to a place where they could treat him. A ruptured hydraulic line sprayed fluid across the bridge area and several of the view screens were lost. The AI continued to operate and reported the status of damaged areas. The controls were a shamble. Everyone held onto something in order to stay upright. The bridge power failed momentarily, causing all lights to go out. In the brief second before the emergency backups came on, there was a ink-black shadow that cast a pall on their actions—producing a momentary stab of fear to the bridge crew’s psyche that only blindness can engender.
“Are you OK, Skipper?” asked Roberts.
Gallant just nodded.
The sounds and sights within the ship reflected its pain outside; the atmosphere was bleeding from small hull fissures and there was structural damage from twisted disfigured metal structures, as well as many electrical panels sparking. The lighting was flashing, glowing, and radiating a spectrum that reflected against the bulkheads and off the consoles—shining like fire, while phosphorescent radiation damage glowed and alarm lights flickered from power surges.
There were amplified clarion calls—rattling, hissing, clanging alarms, and a flourish of blaring sirens. Within the ship, minor and major crises competed for attention, including the particular voices—voices that should have been the orders and reports of the crew, but instead were shrill. Gone were the husky relaxed undulations of the usual crew life.
Gasping, heart pounding; Gallant hoped to keep the ship fighting. He ordered several damage control teams to critical spots.
The weapons officer reported, “Sir, the last missile blast put the FASER temporarily out of action.”
When a situation appears dire and you seem to be out of options—that’s the time for complete calm—Gallant took a deep breath, held it a moment and exhaled.
He relaxed and let his mind drift for a moment . . . What’s my next course of action?
He had to rely on his instincts. After many years in space, one develops a relationship with one’s ship. As it accelerates through the void, one gains a feel for its motion, subtle changes in rhythm and alterations in its vibrations. This kinship becomes part of the spaceman as much as he is aware of his own body. He knows when there are strains and he knows when he’s reached limits. Gallant had to use this awareness to know what to do next.
He surmised the aliens had expended a large portion of their arsenal and suffered some damage. It must be reaching exhaustion.
Gallant ordered the Warrior close the range and engaged with lasers and plasma weapons. Several pencil-thin laser beams streaked at the enemy, penetrating shields and striking the armored hull. They were accompanied by the near-light speed high energy particles of the plasma cannons.
The two ships continued to engage in their pugilistic combat—taking bellicose swings at each other like two woozy boxers.
The alien’s next salvo resulted in a near miss that damaged the Warrior’s sub-light drive and scorched its hull. The radiation caused more injuries. They were sent straight into treatment of radiation burns.
To add to the chaos, the reactors were damaged and the ship lost power. Howard estimated it would take several minutes to recover.
Gallant looked around, realizing his next actions could be decisive.
He wondered what was going on in the head of his enemy. Would the Titan captain outguess him? Was he thinking of new tactics to catch the Warrior by surprise? But he realized that there’s no use wondering what an alien thinks. He can’t even communicate with them.
The captain of the Warrior watched the crew work furiously to restore order. Running his eyes over the bridge crew, everyone was appealing for his attention, but he wouldn’t be distracted from his main task of fighting his ship.
The Titan launched another two missile salvo. Since the Mongoose antimissile batteries were out of action and the damaged engine drive would limit their maneuverability, the ship was particularly vulnerable. The Warrior maneuvered on an undulating course and launched countermeasures. She tried to use her lasers to shoot the missiles.
The enemy missiles exploded close aboard causing considerable damage, but at the same time the Warrior scored a crippling hit on the alien ship, putting it effectively out-of-action.
Both ships were now suffering severe damage and had to turn their attention to rehabilitation, rather than attacking. It was as if two badly battered boxers were forced to retreat to their respective corners to gather strength for the final round.
The crew of the Warrior worked furiously to prepare a knockout blow. The fires were quickly extinguished. The hull ruptures were isolated and the compartments re-pressurized. The injured were taken to med stations. The ship had lost most of its maneuverability, so it remained at a constant velocity on a heading toward Elysium.
The Titan was also suffering from limited maneuverability, but it was heading toward the system’s star, putting it on a divergent course from the Warrior.
All the mad effort to get things back in order appeared wasted when an electrical panel exploded in the corner of the bridge. Once more Gallant had to drive the men hard to regain control of the situation. There was no time to lose. A warped steel beam groaned as damage control men pulled on a windlass to avert a structural collapse. They ratcheted the gears and worked it into shape. He had to prioritize their efforts for the most critical jobs. He ran his eyes over the team working on different items. He started giving a string of orders to set priorities.
Howard called from engineering, desperately asking for more men to help with damage control. It was vitally important that engineering restore the engines before the Titan could recover.
Gallant ordered several of his bridge and CIC techs to go to engineering and help.
Twice he watched his men restart the AI systems only to see them stall again. It was maddening. His voice was hoarse from shouting orders under the din of smoldering f
ires, burst pipes, and sparking electrical gear.
Now, something else plagued him. The ship’s motion added to the missteps and confusion when hydraulic fluid leaked onto the deck causing the damage control team members to slip.
Gallant could feel the ship shudder from an internal explosion of a fuel tank in the engine room shocked the crew. He was still throwing off the after effects of the concussion he had suffered earlier, but he couldn’t trust himself to show any weakness by admitting he needed medical attention just now.
The medical center was overflowing with desperately injured patients. The med-techs were frantically conducting triage and caring for the worst injuries. They injected pain relief fluids and conducted AI-supervised surgical repairs. Their efforts and the triage process were capable of healing much of the damaged flesh, including organs, such as the liver and kidneys, but only if they were given time.
The thought of letting the ship slip back into confusion caused him to direct his next series of orders. He began to see the correct sequence of fixes needed to organize the crew properly and things began to come together.
The repair team reported restoring power to the FASER battery and several charging stations were restored increasing the ship’s overall capability. Engineering reported that all fires were now under control and they were able restore two thirds power. Roberts reported that a team had cleared away damaged gear from the bridge. Stedman reported that the AI systems in CIC were restored. A circle of their potential engagement area was highlighted in CIC and Stedman began calling out the range to target.
“XO, we will reengage at the first opportunity,” said Gallant. He could have asked for Roberts’ advice and divest himself of some responsibility, but he couldn’t put that burden on his XO. It irritated him to even have the thought.
“Aye aye, Skipper,” said Roberts who was also bleeding from a cut on his forehead.
The motion of the ship became smooth once more as the engines directed their course.
“A magnificent job, sir,” said Roberts. “I think we’ll be ready soon.”
Commander Henry Gallant (The Henry Gallant Saga Book 4) Page 2
