Broadsword
Page 2
“That’s because it was a state secret for decades. I would even venture to guess that the Civilian Quorum had no clue it ever existed.” Howard said
Wilkins could only shrug his shoulders as if to concede to the AI’s supposition. “Notify Admiral Olaf and General Estrada, would you?” Wilkins asked.
“Right away, Lieutenant Commander.” Howard responded in short-order.
“Oh, and Howard?”
“Yes, Sir.” Howard replied.
“Enough with the formal titles, ok? You may be fulfilling a military function, but you’re still a civilian. Call me Wilkins.”
“Do you have a first name you’d like me to call you by instead?” Howard asked.
“I had to sign it away when I became a UAHC cadet. We can only have one official name, after all.” Wilkins said with a smile.
“I was going to ask about that.” Howard said as he changed his tone to a more curious one. “Why do some UAHC personnel use their last names while others use their given name?”
“We are encouraged to use our first name only, but we still have the right to choose which one to keep. I chose to use my family name. UAHC Soldiers are trained to abandon any sense of individuality. They would prefer that we lost all memory of who we were before we joined. The perfect killing machine has no personal attachments.” Wilkins explained.
“So, limiting yourselves to single name is supposed to help with that?” Howard asked.
“Yes.” Wilkins nodded. “It takes a long time for it to really sink in, but it eventually does. Having one name has a psychological effect on a person. It limits us on how we self-identify. Sooner or later, we only identify as a killing machine.”
“But you chose your family name?” Howard asked.
“Yes. I knew there was a chance I would never see my family again. They live about one hundred light years from Earth. A little red dwarf system known as, Gregorian Segundo. Commercial transport to Gregorian space is expensive…. Too expensive for a military pay check to cover easily. I knew it would be many decades before I saw home again. Thus, I decided to go with my family name. It may be the only thing that’s helped me remember my home world.” Wilkins explained somberly.
“Is it common for a Soldier to forget where they came from?” Howard asked.
“I don’t think any of us forget altogether. But at the same time, most of us view it as a faded dream we once had. Most never return after they’ve retired. Even if their immediate family is still alive. Being a Soldier makes you socially incompatible with the outside world as it is. Coming home to your family is akin to moving in with a random family you can’t even relate to.”
“Why would anyone even sign up for that? Yet millions of applicants try every year. It boggles the mind.” Howard asserted.
“I signed up to be see how far I could push myself.” Wilkins said as a matter of fact.
“And did you succeed?” Howard asked.
“No.” He should his head and chuckled. “Even fifteen years of the most brutal training a human can possibly endure. I still haven’t hit my breaking point.”
“What do you expect to gain from breaking yourself?”
“UAHC Soldiers are exceptional people that’ve been broken down as individuals, and then rebuilt to be something else… I have yet to be broken down. I’m still just a wild farm boy from Gregorian Space. The UAHC couldn’t break me, thankfully.” Wilkins said.
“I suppose it isn’t a pleasant experience for a human.” Howard supposed.
“It’s not that. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Now I’m really confused.” Howard said in a monotone voice.
“If I’m the one who breaks myself down, than I’m the one who choses how I build myself back up.” Wilkins said...
“I’ve never felt so grateful to be an AI.” Howard said proudly. “Because you meat-sacks are insane!”
***
Rear Admiral Olaf made his way down the ancient ship’s corridor. He was donning a new medium-duty powered armor suit, and was studiously making last second internal adjustments as he walked. New suits had to adapt to the wearer’s natural gate, so manual adjustments helped the processors dial it in much more efficiently.
The dull lighting of the ancient ship did little to accentuate the new matte silver finish on the armored plating. Olaf could care less about how sharp he looked, however. His concern was functionality. Going into battle with untested equipment was not ideal, but the newer model armor had increased bandwidth for command and control functions.
His previous set of armor could barely feed his own internal HUD enough data as it was. The new spec armor could send as much data as his internal systems could possible process, and therefore allow him to make split-second decisions with more confidence.
The vast distances between combatants in space combat was always a challenge to account for. Time dilation was an ever present obstacle that had to be mitigated in near real time. The photons and energetic particles took time to reach any ship’s sensors, and there was always an additional delay for processing the data once it arrived. An enemy that was three hundred thousand kilometers away or more, had the advantage of time and space in their pocket. Any advantage his new suit could give him, could be the difference between victory and defeat.
Olaf said empathetically. After several moments, and a few more turns, Olaf found himself by the entrance to the make-shift situation room. Under normal circumstances the QET would be co-located with a capitol ship’s CIC, but the ancient dreadnaught pre-dated QET tech, and just didn’t have the space required to have it installed.
Olaf entered the room, and found General Estrada present. The QET platform resembled a low slung pedestal that formed a rectangular shape. The blue glow of the platform gave way to the ghostly holographic image of Consul Gerhardt that seemed to hover above it.
“Greetings, Consul Gerhardt!” Olaf said while he snapped into the position of attention and saluted. Gerhardt returned the salute in kind.
“At ease, Admiral.” Gerhardt said as relaxed his own posture slightly. “It pains me to have to breach protocol once again, gentlemen.”
Olaf knew what the Consul was referring to. It was unheard of to have an elected Commander in Chief contact a squadron commander directly. Normally, any such message would be filtered down from the Fleet Marshal, Fleet Admiral, battle group commander, and then to the squadron commander respectively.
The Gen-2 QET that the Broadsword Squadron boasted was obsolete in the sense that it wasn’t currently entangled with the Gen-3’s the main fleets were now using. The Consul was the squadron’s only link to the UAHC Fleet Forces with the exception of a data burst transmission.
“I’ve already notified the Unum forces that you are link up with. They will be hitting the Crimson forces at Forge Station at the same time you will make your own transition to Forge space.” The Consul said. Both Olaf and Estrada nodded in acknowledgement.
“What are our Unum allies bringing to the party, Sir?” Estrada asked.
“According to General Esperanza, about one thousand cutters, and about five hundred gunships.” Gerhardt
stated plainly. Olaf didn’t noticed the Consul even bat an eye as he spoke.
Estrada let out a long whistle. “That’s more than I expected, to be honest.”
Olaf shot his peer a stern look, and then turned back to the Consul. “Sir, the Unum’s complement will be essential, to be sure…” Olaf paused, and Gerhardt went on to finish the man’s sentence for him.
“But… we’re still the only ones with capital ships?”
Olaf seemed slightly taken back by Gerhardt’s astute sense of the situation. “That’s correct, Sir.”
“Unum has a fleet of new warships… big ones.” Gerhardt said. “Trust me when I say, you just have to punch your way through to Tangine and let your Fleet Marshal worry about the rest.”
“Understood, Sir. What of the enemy disposition?” Estrada chimed in.
“Nothing has changed since the last report you received.” Gerhardt replied. Both the General and the Admiral knew what that constituted. The second wave of Crimson forces would consist of battle carriers, and smaller ships. The bulk of the Crimson cruisers, destroyers, and dreadnaughts would be in the first wave of their attack. That meant that the main battle at Tangine Station was already raging.
Admiral Olaf didn’t really know what friendly forces were present in Sol, but he knew it had to be minimal at best. Disrupting the second wave of the enemy’s advance while attacking their main effort from the rear would be essential. He knew no other forces were close enough to pull it off.
The Fleet Forces that had been inside the Alpha Site when the Broadsword first arrived were already fanning out to locate the Crimson Alliance’s third fleet. That left only the, now famous, Broadsword Squadron available for such an attack.
Any strength in numbers would be negated by the limited waves of ships that could transition into Forge space. But leaving a sole Squadron to hunt for an entire fleet, on the other hand, would be akin to a suicide mission. It was the only play.
“Gentlemen, I don’t have to remind you what’s at stake here.” Gerhardt said with a frown. “I also don’t have to tell you what kind of losses you can expect to sustain, either… But I will tell you that this mission will either save humanity from centuries of enslavement, or it will be the end of freedom as we know it. There are even darker forces at play here as well. We’re not fighting to defend ourselves from the Crimson, alone. We’re fighting to give humanity the time it needs to unite under one banner. If this mission fails… then it could be the beginning of the end for our entire species.”
There was silence in the situation room for several moments. Olaf let the gravity of the situation sink in for a moment, before Olaf broke the silence. “Sir, we either win or die. I can take comfort in the fact that if we fail, than I will likely not live long enough to see our race be destroyed or subjugated. It gives us a clarity of mind that the Crimson won’t be able to match.”
Gerhardt’s ghostly lips stretched out into a broad grin. “That’s an excellent mind-set to have, Admiral! Make sure your men know where you stand. Perhaps if the entire Broadsword Squadron knows the implications, then victory is all but assured!”
“Will do, Sir.” Olaf said proudly, and then snapped a quick salute to the Consul. Estrada followed suit, and the Consul returned the gesture. The conversation devolved into more trivial details for a while, and then it came to a stopping point.
“You know what needs to be done to prepare your squadron better than I.” Gerhardt said plainly. “I’ll let you get to it, Gentlemen.”
Moments later the QET retracted the blue glowing light that formed the holographic features of Consul Gerhardt. The pedestal was now inactive, and the room was now as silent as a funeral home. The two men said nothing. They both knew words would be wasted breath. It was time for action.
It was time for battle!
Into the Breach
Location: UAHC Drone Dreadnaught, Broadsword, CIC, Hidden Hyper Gate
Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 2234HRS UAHC Standard Zulu
System: Interstellar Space, 56 Light Minutes From Alpha Site
“All ships reported in, Sir.” Wilkins said as he lifted his head from the antiquated scan suite display. Olaf nodded in acknowledgement.
Olaf turned to his left and looked at Estrada. “General, would you like to do the honors?” He asked.
Estrada returned Olaf’s gaze while maintaining an blank expression. “No, thank you.” Estrada shook his head. “If this were a ground engagement, then I would be honored to. This is your show, Admiral.” He gave a quick wink.
Olaf studied the man for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. “Very well, old friend.” He said as he opened up the squadron-wide audio net. The transmission would automatically route to every PA speaker in every corner of every ship. He decided that every man, woman, and AI deserved to hear the order be relayed.
“Attention, all Captains and crew! This is Rear Admiral Olaf. We are now at the precipice of life and death. Surviving the next few hours of your life is irrelevant. There will be no going back. There will be no failure. There will be victory! Only victory! The human race is depending on this squadron to seal off any escape of the Crimson forces that are within the heart of humanity as we speak. If we fail to do our part, then the war is lost. If the war is lost, then humanity will be left exposed to an imminent threat from beyond the galaxy. Our enemies don’t understand this yet. They need time to see it for themselves. But if we fail to stop them, then they’ll have dismantled any hopes of uniting humanity against the darkness that looms in the cosmos. We need not live to see victory. We need not live to see the fall of our race. We need only to live long enough to achieve our objectives. Our task is simple. Embrace the likelihood of death to achieve certain victory, or fear for our lives and ensure our deaths.” Olaf paused for a moment to allow for his words to sink in.
“To all Captains of the Broadsword Squadron, I hereby order you to proceed into the hyper gate. You each have your assigned objectives… Engage and destroy any Crimson Alliance vessels between Forge and Tangine… Link up with our Unum allies… Then pound your way into Tangine space… and be sure to kill anyone that isn’t happy to see you!”
Olaf would never hear the cascading applause that erupted from the men and women in their ships. Every human and AI alike were cheering and beating their chests in defiance of the enemy. The Crimson Fleet would have no idea what was about to hit them.
By now, word had likely spread throughout the Crimson Forces. The Broadsword Squadron’s actions against a superior enemy at the Alpha Site Skirmish was the stuff of legend.
If humanity was to survive the alien threat that was to come, than the descendants of the Crimson Alliance would tell their children about the monstrous terror that lurked in the darkness.
A terror called Broadsword.
***
Major General Melvin watched the universe rematerialize on his holographic display. He stood within the CIC of his flagship, the UDF Slugger. The slugger was an Unum Gunship, and was a class of warship that fell between a cutter - or a sloop - and a frigate in tonnage, but boasted more firepower than either.
The sight of Forge Station was not unfamiliar to Melvin, but the massive Crimson Alliance presence made it seem foreign. “Scan, get me an initial report on the enemy disposition!” Melvin sounded off firmly.
His attire denoted his intent to wreak havoc. His garnet colored body armor was trimmed in black, and it accented his pale skin. Melvin was of average height, but fit for a middle-aged man. His hair was short and tapered which hid the grey streaks forming in his brown hair. He gripped the edges of his command console while he leaned over it in anticipation. He didn’t have to reference his bio-status on his internal HUD, because he could feel the throbbing of his pulse flex against his veins.
“Ten battle carriers on scan, Sir!” Major Dorman sounded off in response. The younger female officer was donning the same grade armor as the general, but it complimented her feminine build despite the one hundred
kilos of armored plating. Her black hair was tied up into a tight bun behind her head
General Melvin sent her a curt nod and then straightened his posture. He crossed his arms while rocking back on his heels as he glared at the young major. She seemed to get the meaning of his body language, and then continued to rattle off the data as it streamed through her console. “Each battle carrier has one hundred and twenty fighters deployed. AI analysis has confirmed that the fighters are forming a defensive funnel around the hulls of their perspective motherships.”
“Have they picked us up on scan yet?” Melvin asked calmly. He felt the nervous tension build up inside his entire body, but he dared not let it show.
“Not likely, Sir. We’ve just now made the transition into Forge Space. STC will pick us up any second, but we have no way of knowing how quickly they will relay the data to the Crimson warships.” Dorman replied with confidence in her voice. Melvin could sense she was scared out of her mind, but she seemed to be holding herself together nicely.
“This was what the intel-jockeys had assessed.” Melvin said.
“It looks like we have forty three percent of our taskforce through the gate. Three hundred twenty seven gunships and a full cohort of cutters.” Dorman said. She took her eyes off of her display, and turned her gaze towards the general. The man didn’t budge for several seconds before he broke silence.
“Link to all CIC’s. Commence kinetic operations. All commanders assign rules of engagement within their AOR’s.” Melvin said with an authoritarian tone of voice, but he didn’t move a muscle.
“Yes, Sir.” Dorman replied as she studiously got to work at her station.
That UAHC squadron had better be making their transition about now. Otherwise, this engagement will be nothing short of suicide. Melvin thought to himself. He knew that his gunships could hold their own against drone fighters or even frigates, but his cutters were thinly armored. Although many of them had undergone a recent refit which made them closely comparable to a UAHC sloop, the low tonnage ships were built for patrolling. He was skeptical of how long they would last against destroyers.