by Chris Hechtl
Thirty Cobra and Cutlass fighters from the carriers, another fifty-two fighters of mixed classes from the other ships, and twelve defensive drones were waiting for them. The defensive fighters and drones formed a basket for the enemy to come into, a layered gauntlet they had to run through to drive their shipping strike home.
Fighters began to burn in space as they engaged each other. The Horathian Raptors could only engage one target at a time. The superior federation fighters with their augmented and highly skilled pilots and supporting A.I. could multitask. Within minutes the enemy fighters had been driven off.
But they'd allowed the bombers to get into extreme range. Lieutenant Nezier didn't bother trying to drive his forces in deeper when he noted the incoming fire from the drones and ships. “Get a target lock on the nearest ship and launch!”
“Sir?”
“Dump them! Fire at least two on each ship you target. Get it done now! Then we head back to the barn,” he said as his copilot swore and worked the defensive station with desperation. He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye and then back to the view around them.
The seeking tone rose in pitch and speed before it became a steady tone. “Fox One! Fox Two!” His bombardier called out. The lieutenant immediately pulled back on his yoke and pitched over for the next target. Missiles and torpedoes were fired in a fuselage at first, then a cascade. Some of the bomber crews ignored his orders and fired everything they had, then got the hell out of the area as quickly as they could.
:::{)(}:::
“Bombers have launched. We've got one hundred plus inbound, sir. Garfield is pulling the defensive drones off them and onto the missiles and torpedoes. It looks like they are shooting at the screen,” Kyle reported.
“Meanwhile the bastards are getting away or lining up for another strike,” Jojo muttered as she glanced at the orange tabby. He was busy, ears flat as he pecked at his station and did his best to stave off the onslaught of incoming fire.
:::{)(}:::
“Frack me!” Commander Meia snarled as she finished off her last opponent. She'd taken her eyes off the ball and allowed her forces to be scattered in the furball to take out the enemy fighters. She wasn't alone in the blame game; her fellow CAGs had also dropped the ball. Commander Wilder of Kittyhawk had done her best on defense, but her people hadn't scored as many kills as they'd hoped.
“We need to get back in on this,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “Marines rally on my IFF. We need to tear them a new one on their way out,” the cat said.
Meia's implants identified the sender as Warrant Officer Hurranna, the Neocat squadron commander of the half-strength Marine squadron on Kittyhawk. They'd held their own but … Meia cleared her throat and triggered her microphone. She set it to command override. “Squadron Commanders, rally your squadrons and get me a head check now. Belay that last, we follow orders. Get our people under control,” she said, noting the vector of the enemy bombers and fighters as they left.
“Aye aye, ma’am,” Hurranna said dutifully. Meia nodded once then flicked her control stick over and sent a mental command to turn her IFF up.
:::{)(}:::
“We're doing it!” a voice called out over the bomber net.
“Steady. This is just round one,” Lieutenant Nezier said, keying his own microphone. “Anyone with ordinance get your locks in and then get clear,” he ordered. “The rest of you get out of here while you can. Preferably before those fighters come back,” he growled, noting the defending fighters coming back. Apparently the fighters they had been chasing had gotten away or had been torn apart.
To him it didn't matter. He already knew he was going to lose friends in the conflict. Probably a lot. Probably his own life. But he didn't care. He put the fear aside and focused on his training and mission.
“Lining up on another destroyer. We'll flush them all and then get clear,” the lieutenant said as they flashed past the line of defensive drones. His ship bucked as a close hit tore something off their wing.
“That was too close!” his copilot swore.
:::{)(}:::
Missiles and torpedoes began to explode as the drones switched their fire. But the momentary switch allowed them to get too far into their basket; before they could get a second shot, the surviving ordinance was past them and burning for the fleet.
Instead of swiveling the drones, Garfield ordered them to retask once more for any follow-up missiles and targets of opportunity. The enemy missiles were past the first basket and into the second. Counter missiles lashed out from the threatened destroyers while their ECM tried to spoof the enemy ordinance away from them. Decoys called and sang siren songs. Nearly half the ordinance had been taken out; a quarter was lost to the ECM and counter missiles.
But that left twenty-six for the point defense of the ships to contend with. Fortunately, luck was with them; the fire was spread over the entire squadron, not concentrated on one or two ships. Point defense turrets spun and lashed out, licking invisible fire at the incoming ordinance as they fell into final acquisition mode.
Sprint engines in the missiles kicked on as the missiles got their final target lock. The missile's sudden spurt of speed threw the gunnery teams off, just enough to get inside their range.
Ten missiles and one torpedo managed to get past the screen's defenses to detonate. Alarms screamed as the missiles ripped and gouged at the destroyer's shields.
Two ships, Warrior's Creed and Eagle, lost their shields and seemed to shake like terriers. After a moment their shields began to reform, but their drives cut power slightly to allow their energy reserves to rebuild. Hachimaze and Endymion also took glancing hits but they shrugged them off.
:::{)(}:::
Lieutenant Nezier noted the hits and reprioritized his fire. He realized they should have focused on a few ships, not all of them. The admiral's plan to spread the damage and force the enemy to slow was nice in theory, but it wasn't working out in the real world he thought with a corner of his mind as he cued the changes to his plan.
The tone told him all he needed to know. “Fire them, Benny! Let's get this bucket out of here!” he said.
“Firing all!” the bombardier snarled. The ship bucked as the missiles kicked clear and away. One failed to kick its drive in. It pitched end over end and detonated in the bomber's wake as the bomber pulled up and away.
The lieutenant and his crew were too busy trying to stay alive to note or care however.
:::{)(}:::
“Second flight of missiles inbound. They are past the drones,” a rating stated. “Counter missiles are engaging those in their basket, but they are dangerously close.”
“Point defense free,” Captain O'Toole stated. “Weapons, see what you can add to that mix.”
“Aye, sir.”
The captain frowned. He was regretting not spinning his ship to expose his undamaged port flank. It was too late to do it now, the momentary loss of contact could spell Warrior Creed's death knell. He had to let the defensive crews have their shot. His ship was getting a bit more of a baptism of fire than he'd expected.
:::{)(}:::
Commander Zakhan saw the tail end of the second engagement and seethed. His people had scored some hits, but the fighters had been a disaster. He did his best and rallied his surviving forces back to the carrier to rearm and regroup. He didn't get to fire off a shot; instead he stayed just out of the enemy's range and drove off any fighter that tried to chase his bombers or fighters. Once they were all clear, he turned tail and fell in behind the depleted swarm of ships.
“This isn't over. Not by a long shot. Get your heads out of your asses. I want SITREPS on every ship by squadron. Commanders, get on that. If your commander is dead, assistants take over. You know the drill, damn it! Get on it, people!” he snarled.
Obviously the bomber ordinance hadn't worked out as well as the planners back at the admiralty had hoped. They'd had a limited stock of torpedoes to begin with, and the clones the empire's engineers had cobb
led up had lacked the speed, brains, defensive tools, and force emitter breacher. The more conventional, double-tipped, hundred-megaton nuclear missiles hadn't fared well either. They had a crude plasma bottle set up to focus their energy in a desired direction, and a second plasma bubble on the tip to act as a breacher.
But they lacked penetration aides also called PENAIDS. They lacked the speed and brains to get through the Fed's layered defenses, at least, not in single shots. He made sure it was all taken down for future review. At the moment he didn't give a damn whose toes he stepped on with his blunt assessment of the ineffectiveness of the weapons. He'd worry about the politics later … if he had a later.
While the squadrons fell into ragged formation, he downloaded their logs. Heaven help them if any of them shied off and didn't fully engage he thought. But such considerations were for later. He keyed an omni broadcast to the carrier and flagship. “Nimitz flight to Command. We're coming back battered. We'll need to draw the fighters from the other ships to make up our losses if we're going to try this again with any chance of success. Squirting my log now,” he said, tapping his implants to send the files.
:::{)(}:::
Princess Catherine noted the SITREP from the CAG and frowned. She was appalled at his losses. She knew the admiral had no intention of releasing the fighters on the other warships. They were his strategic reserve; this was just the first battle among many. He couldn't commit them all in the first …
But if he didn't, he could lose the remaining ships in Nimitz's fighter wing, couldn't he? She wasn't certain which way he'd jump.
“Well! That was most certainly disappointing! I had thought they'd do better than that,” the admiral said mildly. “And that was our best fighter punch!” He shook his head.
Catherine nodded. He was right, the follow-up runs would have fewer pilots that were spooked, but they'd know what they were up against. Ordinance, pilots, and planes didn't just come out of the ether.
“Order the CAG to do a bit better next time. I want coordinated strikes. Focus on one or two targets and pound them, not this scattered approach we just witnessed,” the admiral ordered after a moment.
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
“How are we going on the cyber warfare department, Kelly?” Admiral White asked as he wandered the flag bridge. He watched as Lieutenant Kelly Guadino, the Neogorilla intelligence officer on his staff turned from her station to look at him.
One shake of her head was all he needed to know. “Not good. Not at all, sir. They've learned, sir; they are tighter than virgins with a chastity belt.” That made his lips pucker in a sour smile as Garfield snorted. “They are keeping their firewalls tight in other words and rebuffing anything and everything I send their way. They've changed encryption keys; it's one we haven't seen before so we're still trying to crack it.”
“You'll be at it for a month without a key,” the admiral said.
“True,” Kelly replied. “I've reprioritized it to the bottom of my to-do list. We're working on more in-depth INTEL briefs on each ship and seeing if we can futz their comms. The main fleet is most likely communicating by whisker lasers.”
“Smart. They are only using omni when they don't know the precise location of the recipient?” he asked.
She nodded. “And when they do they are keeping it to audio and a limited amount of data. The data is directional; we're only getting a piece of it with the recon drones.”
“Okay. Keep me posted. If you can insert a virus or something in that code, by all means. Anything to trip them up.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the gorilla replied.
:::{)(}:::
When the capital ship missile window opened at extreme range, Catherine looked expectantly at her boss. However, Admiral De Gaulte had other ideas; he didn't pass the order to open fire. The tactical officer stared intently at the admiral willing him to give the order. When he didn't a look of disbelief crossed his face before he schooled it into a scowl and looked away.
Instead of firing Admiral De Gaulte refused to engage at extreme range.
“Admiral?” Catherine asked. He glanced at her. She nodded her chin to the blinking window and then pointed a finger to tactical.
The admiral glanced at the tactical section then shook his head. “We've got limited ammo; they've got better defenses. Why give him the early look and waste what we've got? No, we'll wait. Wait until we get closer, when we can saturate their defenses. We need to keep some hold cards close to our chest.”
“Aye, sir, but the fighters and bombers could use the support,” Catherine warned. “They are losing cohesion and are wearing down. Fatigue and other problems are creeping into the situation. I think this will be their last mission for a while.”
“They'll do what they can with what they've got,” the admiral said. “So, they'd better make it count. Pass the word to Commander Zakhan he's to focus on damage not outright kills. We want them to drop their speed.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Catherine frowned a moment as she processed the order then nodded again and passed it along.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral White noted the lack of fire and cocked his head. He had a cool opponent, someone smart enough to wait. He was tempted, but he wanted to throw the man off his game. He also wanted to do some damage and possibly force the enemy to slack their speed. That would count in the later rounds to come. It might be critical. Decision made he nodded once. “If he won't open fire, I will. Garfield, let's see if we can start doing something about those ships. Thin out the wolf pack.”
“Sir?”
“Engagement plan Zeta. Battle Cruisers only, since we've got the ammo to spare. Let's keep it focused on easy targets we can saturate. Don't go for the kill; just make them bleed. Seed some recon drones in the mix while you are at it. Let's feel him out and see what he's got. Make sure every TAC department gets a copy of our feed and helps crunch the INTEL. I'm curious what those big boys have by way of defenses.” He had roughly calculated that the battle cruisers were at about 80 percent of stock. That was a pretty high assessment considering the source. They were running their engines at 75 percent too, which made him wonder what sort of reserve they had.
“Aye aye, sir.” The orange Neocat tapped at his station then nodded. Engagement Zeta was a long-range engagement. It meant he'd be expending missiles and recon drones, but he'd also send in a bit of metal in the form of KEW strikes. The KEW streams would force the enemy to dodge. He frowned thoughtfully as he refined his plan. If he played it right, it might get them to maneuver right into the firing line of his missiles.
After a moment the Neocat looked up and nodded. “Engagement plan Zeta loaded, sir.”
“Then fire.”
“Aye, sir. Firing now. I'm hoping for a golden bee bee, sir,” the cat said. He flicked his ears as a spread of missiles from each of the ship's chase launchers were launched. “Missiles away, sir.” After a moment he nodded again as a fresh report came through. “Recon drones away.”
“Keep dreaming. I like your sentiment but don't count on it. Will we get much of a speed advantage during the loop, Alec?” he asked, turning to the staff navigator.
“Some, sir. They are coming in at a much shallower angle so they won't get as much a boost so we'll get out of their range again. But we'll have to decelerate when we get closer to the jump point in two days, so that'll allow them to overhaul us then.”
“Lovely,” Jojo muttered.
“One thing at a time,” the admiral said. “Alec, put a clock up with the time to the start of the loop. I want all of our fighters and drones back in before that reaches zero,” he said, looking at Kyle.
“Aye, sir, I'll pass the order,” His OPS officer replied dutifully.
“One thing we could do is get cute, sir. We could change the loop. Go into a spiral and throw them off or off on a divergent course. Do the unexpected,” Alec stated.
“Yes, but then they could race to the B-95a3 jump point, and we'd be playing cat
ch-up. Worse, we'd have to decelerate into their fire in order to jump. No, I don't like it, but we'll play the hand we've got now,” the admiral said.
“Aye, sir,” Alec replied.
“Good thought,” Jojo said in compensation. Her Neochimp boss nodded once.
“I thought so too,” Garfield replied. “We could always split their fleet train off and tear it up. That'd put them in trouble,” he said.
“And put our own fleet train in jeopardy,” the admiral replied. “I thought of it too. No, we'll stay the course.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Chapter 11
Admiral White knew that his ships better engines and less mass along with their head start gave them a speed advantage. So long as they didn't have to reef in to let a wounded ship keep up, they'd keep to the extreme range of the enemy's missile basket.
And apparently he wasn't ready to expend missiles at that range. Fine.
He noted Garfield's plan. It was cute, potentially too cute, but it might work. Staggering the launches and running the second set behind the first would make those missiles dependent on the others for their telemetry; their mother ships were too far out to help. By the time they got in range of the enemy fleet, they'd have less than a minute on their clocks.
“Let's see if you outsmarted yourself, Garfield,” the admiral murmured. The Neocat swiveled one black and white ear his way then it returned to half erect status.
:::{)(}:::
“Sir, missile spread and KEWs inbound,” Berney reported.
“Where is … never mind,” Admiral De Gaulte said as Catherine came in. He raised an eyebrow. She just grimaced but ignored the silent inquiry. It wasn't like she wanted to admit she'd had to pee and had been holding it for hours. After a moment the admiral let it slide and turned to the CIC rating. “Numbers?”
“It looks like eighty missiles, sir, capital ship missiles.”
