by Blaze Ward
The two men blinked at him, and then glanced at each other. Emmerich could see evil grins begin to grow, carefully hidden.
“What else?” he said.
“If you will turn to page 184,” the scientist began…
Chapter XXIV
Date of the Republic February 4, 393 Edge of the C’Xindo system
Time to get to work.
Jessica smiled as the scanner board came live and everyone on the Flag Bridge engaged.
Auberon’s Pilot, Nada Zupan, had dropped them exactly on target, two light hours out from the Imperial Sector Capital and well above the plane of the ecliptic. CR–264 and Rajput dropped into space right behind them.
Even here, the area was crowded. Several signals indicated sensor buoys lighting up as the squadron were located. The squadron would be identified in fairly short order, but Jessica’s plan involved them only staying here for exactly six minutes, just long enough to get a good image of the planet, and they would outrun the news of their arrival.
The Flag Bridge was smaller than the main bridge, down a deck and tucked in closer to the ship’s core. There was a big holographic projector in the middle of a conference table, plus space for the squadron’s various commanders to be projected if they weren’t physically present. Most weren’t.
Right now, Jež’s electronic image sat across from her, between Command Centurion Alber’ d’Maine on the bridge of Rajput and Command Centurion Tomas Kigali aboard CR–264.
Her Science Officer, Daniel Giroux, was also present via image, tucked into his corner of the bridge. Right now, he was furiously pushing buttons and dialing gauges as he worked to absorb all the information the sensors were bringing in.
The only other person physically present at the table with Jessica was her Flag Centurion, although a few other crewmembers sat at duty stations around the outside of the room, ready to step in or answer questions as necessary.
Jessica studied the image before her, watching fuzzy edges refine quickly as data came into real–time from rough calculations.
C’Xindo was a normal world. It was half green and half blue, reflecting a mix of continents and oceans, but otherwise unremarkable. It had been colonized thousands of years ago, during the Concord Era, but largely lost during the Crash.
In the thousand–odd years since humans had rediscovered starflight and expanded outward, it had been functionally recolonized, growing enough to make it a sector capital when the Fribourg Empire pushed its boundaries this far.
Useful, habitable stars were thin out here, but neither Fribourg nor Aquitaine had put in much effort. C’Xindo had a population of around forty million, mostly farmers, with only a few cities, none of them large, or impressive, or interesting.
It did have a nice space station in orbit that served as the Governor’s Official Residence and Palace. Between that and being the sector capital, it was better protected than 2218 Svati Prime had been.
That was one of the reasons Jessica had avoided making it the first target. It was more fun letting the fringe worlds panic and demand protection that might normally have to come from here. Maybe, just maybe, someone had made a mistake and stripped the local cupboard bare.
One could hope.
She turned to her Science Officer as a large signal in orbit near the Palace appeared in the image.
“Giroux,” she asked, “what is that?”
“Working,” he said, not even looking up.
“That, commander,” came the voice of CR–264’s Command Centurion, Tomas Kigali, “is an Imperial BattleTug. Probably the old Langschwert, given the location.”
“Really?” she said with surprise. “I haven’t seen one of them since Second Year Tactics Class.”
Kigali shrugged. He was a tall blond man, thin and rakish. She knew he had set records in a personal yacht for distances sailed and navigational accuracy. He was a perfect fit for a long–sailing, up–gunned Revenue Cutter that might spend years in space between refits.
“They don’t have many, and that’s the only one I know of on this frontier,” he replied. “Normally they guard important military installations. Maybe someone over there was a touch frightened?”
“Can we take him?” Jessica cast into the group.
The other Command Centurion, d’Maine off of Rajput, spoke up. He was a dark–complected man, generally dour and serious. Also a good fit in command, for a cramped heavy destroyer that didn’t like to make epic voyages.
“Depends on if their Captain’s any good,” he muttered. “Firepower like a battlecruiser on a good day. Maneuverability of a small planet. We get the drop on him and get out fast, should be doable.”
“Since we don’t have a bomb to hit the planet with this time, my plan doesn’t change, gentlemen,” Jessica announced. “Hard and fast. We’ll launch everything, make one solid strafing run, and then run for the edge of the gravity well. Depending on how it goes, we may circle back for more, or we may just flit out and go hit the next target. If the BattleTug is here, he’s not anywhere else, and we’ll get anywhere faster than that old tub could.”
She considered the layout of the world. The BattleTug was in a higher orbit and moving faster than the station. They might even be able to catch the two on opposite sides of the planet from each other, pick one, and hammer it while ignoring the other.
“Gentlemen, your orders,” she said, making eye contact with everyone once as she spoke. “Rajput in the van, with CR–264 flying close escort on the lower flank. Auberon will come in behind. We’ll time the heavy fighter craft to make their pass when you do. The melee fighters will either escort Auberon, or close with the strike, depending on what the Imperials do. Questions?”
“What happens if someone is disabled, sir?” Kigali asked.
“If you or Cayenne can rescue them safely, we’ll do so,” she replied. “Otherwise, they get to be prisoners of war for a while, until the next exchange. This is just a raid. And the fourth one of these. What we’re up to does not constitute an invasion, as much as they might think otherwise.”
“Roger that,” Kigali said, his image blanking out as he prepared to transition his ship back to Jumpspace.
Chapter XXV
Date of the Republic February 4, 393 C’Xindo system
Jouster launched first when they came out of Jumpspace. It was his Flight Wing, his people, his rules. And he would lead by example. Even for crazy people like Commander Keller.
He did one fast visual scan in all directions as he emerged from the bow of Auberon, checking visually for trouble instead of just relying on his instruments and sensors. It was the best habit have, out here on the sharp end of the stick.
Across the keel of the carrier, da Vinci’s P–4 Outrider launched simultaneously.
Her scout fighter was built up from the same hull design as his M–5 Harpoon, but with only the single Type–1 weapon forward on the nose instead of his triple mounts that parallaxed.
It was a scout, not a melee fighter. One of her reactors and both missile rails had been pulled, for the bulb of a scanner poking out like a pregnant belly underneath.
They always launched this way, the two of them leading the way. He accelerated forward slowly, knowing she would do the same. Behind, the rest of the wing and the big Gunship would be pouring out into space, down the launch rails or out the bay doors.
It’s what Strike Carriers did. Get in close, drop enough mobile firepower on the target to take on a battlecruiser, and go to town.
Time to party.
A blue light appeared on the console in front of him. That would be Auberon telling him that everyone was launched and away. He waited for confirmation from his people.
“Jouster, this is Southbound,” Marta Eka’s voice came over the comm. “All three Wings are forming up now.”
Jouster smiled and glanced back over his shoulder at all the lethal metal strung out. Strike Carriers were supposed to send out three flights in a curve, with the Command Wing in the center and the other
two back and on each flank. They were also supposed to be flying nine fighters of the same type.
On Auberon, pilot, we do things different. Learn them if you want to survive.
His Wing was on the left, his two wingmates, Uller and Vienna, stacked above and behind him like stair steps. Over and nearly at the edge of vision, he could see Southbound coming into the same position, with Ironside and Bitter Kitten layered back. Between them, da Vinci appeared almost lonesome, until you looked farther back and saw the two big S–11 Orcas; slow, armoured, medium–assault saturation bombers, and the even bigger and meaner Gunship, Necromancer.
Imperials coming at them were always expecting opponents on the same plane as them. Facing a wall of fire was just one more way to throw them off.
And it worked.
“Jouster, this is da Vinci,” came the call. “Rajput and CR–264 are out front and confirm Auberon’s signal. Defenders agree with the previous estimate, with one notable exception. Somebody brought a BattleTug to the dance.”
“Are we still targeting the Palace?” he started making adjustments to follow the line Rajput was taking ahead of them, and come in over the top at maximum speed for a surprise.
“Affirmative, Jouster,” the scout pilot responded. “That Tug got caught pants around ankles.”
“Squadron, this is Auberon,” came the call from the new Flag Centurion. “Apparently, today was some local holiday celebration. It appears from the unsecured comm traffic that a great many important people were over at the Palace and are trying to get home now. Consider anything that moves a target of opportunity to decapitate multiple targets, as scanners show a number of small, private yachts docked at the station. Happy hunting.”
Jouster smiled. It would be total chaos down there if the station had to positively identify every target before shooting at it, especially at the speed they would be coming through.
That gave him an idea.
“da Vinci,” he said, “what’s the tug doing now?”
“Stand by,” he heard her respond.
On his scanner, Jouster watched a pair of defense fighters moving in to land on the station instead of moving out to engage them.
They hadn’t been loaded with fireworks instead of missiles, had they? Not ready to actually fight? Awful bad planning on someone’s part, if that was the case.
Up ahead, the scanner lit up as Rajput sent six missiles downrange in as many seconds. CR–264 moved below her into a proper escort position, and began to engage inbound missiles from the station and a small escort gunship sitting nearby in a defensive position.
Nobody had expected party crashers today.
“Jouster,” da Vinci came back to him. “Tug’s engines were cold and are just firing up now. She will be unable to change orbits to catch us coming out with anything but long range deflection shots. Suppose they’re good enough to go Parthian on us?”
Didn’t these people know there was a war on? Hadn’t we hit enough planets along the frontier to get the news out? Was he ever going to get an opportunity like this again?
“Southbound, this is Jouster,” he smiled like a fox contemplating an unlocked hen house. “Continue on your regular run. Escort the Saturation Wing in and engage targets of opportunity.”
“Affirmative, Jouster,” he heard Southbound say with a tired, exasperated sound. Was he that predictable? “Couldn’t resist, could you?”
Apparently he was.
“Uller and Vienna, I am transmitting a new course. Form on me and prepare to make a strafing run on the BattleTug.”
Jouster felt like a hawk as his group spun up and away. From this distance, it wouldn’t take much to come left of the planet instead of right. The Palace would be chasing them even as they chased the tug.
“Flight Wing, this is Auberon,” came the voice of doom. Keller really was listening in, wasn’t she? Kwok would have been having tea somewhere, possibly while being entertained by one of the enlisted crew.
“Your orders were to engage and cripple the station and her defenders,” Keller said succinctly. “Return to your original course.”
“Auberon, target is well in hand,” he replied with a smirk. “This is more chaos to sow.”
He expected one more threat. Something like I’ll have your head, mister, but she fell silent. Kwok would have blustered some more.
Keller didn’t bluster.
So, he just had to come home a hero and she wouldn’t be able to touch him.
After all, she had done the same, hadn’t she?
Ξ
Jessica stopped before she got really going grinding her teeth. She should have known Jouster would do something like this eventually. The man was just too much a cowboy.
Enej looked up from his Flag Centurion station with concern. “Orders for the Flight Wing, sir?”
Jessica got out of her seat and walked around the projections. It was just as easy to spin it in place from her command chair, but this forced her mind into new positions. She often saw things not readily apparent when she did it this way.
Jouster was about to get into the hornet’s nest, and she had no intention of taking the whole squadron down into melee with a BattleTug, regardless of how off–line the ship claimed to be. She would have been playing possum right now, hoping someone was stupid enough to get into range so they could get bit.
“Private signals, with acknowledgements, Flag,” she said, pacing. “Remind Southbound that she’s in command of the Flight with Jouster running off and ignoring orders. Tell her to be ready to come to Jouster’s rescue if things go bad. Remind CR–264 to shift sides as they come around the horizon above that tug, so Rajput has clear shooting. If that thing gets mobile, they are both outgunned, even if we came in above. Suggest to Jež that Auberon drift lower so we can up into the BattleTug’s belly if we have to. We’ll be climbing out of the gravity well, anyway.”
She watched the young man type furiously and then look up at her. “Messages away, Commander.”
“Okay, Enej, Blue Team/Gold Team exercise. You command the BattleTug, in the given scenario. What do you do?”
She watched him bring up a local projection at his station and spin it to put him on the far side.
“If I’m pulling an ambush, I light the engines and come barreling around the planet right about now,” he said. “That puts me right into Rajput as she comes clear of the station. Hit her at close range with the Type–2’s, just enough to tickle her. Hold the Type–1’s for point defense and smacking fighters around if they get too close. Ignore CR–264 as she passes. Hold the Primaries and the Type–3’s for Auberon and pull a fencing pass trying to gut us. The Gunship running with the fighters would be an ugly surprise, especially if the S–11’s decide to ignore the station and hit me with everything they have. But I don’t believe you’ll see me coming in time to have the fighters hold back firepower for me.”
Jessica considered the options and the physics of the situation.
“I like it,” she said. “Have Jež launch a probe over the pole and have it transmit the BattleTug’s location when we drop into the planet’s sensor shadow. Tell da Vinci to listen for that scenario and prepare to shift targeting accordingly.”
“Aye, sir,” he said. “Not what you expect?”
She considered the young man. Brilliant tactician, but lacked the killer instinct. Good at multi–level chess, needed to learn how to get creative.
“I can’t imagine that a fifty–year old BattleTug orbiting for the party had her primary crew in command. Everyone important would be at the dance. We have the second string people. Younger, and less predictable, but also less likely to take decisive action when surprised like this. The Empire keeps a close reign on command authority.”
“I see. So what would a young Centurion do?”
“They call the rank Lieutenant, Enej,” she said quietly, reliving the same conversation with Kasum more than a decade ago. “The book says to bring everything live and wait for the Captain, their equivale
nt of a Command Centurion. With Jouster about to come over their butts, they will concentrate everything on him and be waiting.”
“And the problem?”
“Look at Jouster’s course as he plotted it,” she said.
“Orbital insertion on the BattleTug’s plane of motion,” he replied. “Puts him right in place for a good strafing run with maximum exposure before they break out and climb up the gravity well to escape.”
“Yes,” she said. “Tactically sound. What happens if the Flight Commander over there sees it and realizes they can chase Jouster down way easier than they can chase us, given our head start and their relative motion in orbit.”
“Oh. Is there anything we can do?”
Jessica returned to her chair and settled in to sip her coffee. “I have no intention of getting Auberon into a melee with a BattleTug, especially since Rajput and CR–264 are already committed on their run. Jouster’s on his own.”
Ξ
Jouster was feeling really good about himself. Uller and Vienna were sitting stacked above and behind him. The BattleTug’s crew had apparently gotten themselves back on line and were trying to make it to the party, if only a little late. Auberon had even launched a probe so they could see the whole situation without having any blind spots.
This was how you were supposed to fight a war.
He watched on his scanners as Rajput hammered the living shit out of the Palace as she flew past, taking barely enough counter–fire to even count. The rest of the Flight Wing made a pass on the gunship and a couple of defensive platforms, overloading those poor bastards and blowing them out of the skies.
Seriously, he had the best Flight Wing on the frontier, maybe the top three in the fleet.
“Jouster, this is da Vinci. Watch your six.”
Jouster watched as she highlighted a new signal on his scanner.
Shit. Who told them they could do that?
Five Imperial fighters had launched late and simply ignored everything else. Now they were on his ecliptic and pouring around the edge of the planet at him from behind. At full speed.
