by Richard Fox
“You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re scared.”
“I am not scared. I fight inside humanity’s most perfect killing machine. I fear nothing…but I am concerned,” Aignar said.
“You’re ‘concerned’ over heraldry?”
“All the lances that went ‘missing’ with 3rd Squadron had their official files closed—pretty standard when there are battle losses, but not with MIAs. General Laran and the top brass must want them forgotten, which I can understand.”
“Rambling.”
“The Templar keep their own records, tracking who’s gone through the rites and stood vigil at Memorial Square. I was looking into 3rd Squadron’s Templars…and they were Templar.”
“There are Templar in every squadron and most every lance that’s not Dotari,” Roland said.
“No. They were all Templar. Every last one of them. It didn’t hit me until I saw the cross on that sword they gave you.”
Roland’s jaw clenched tight. “Why?” he asked. “Every Templar we know is dedicated to Earth. How could any—”
“Not Earth, humanity,” Aignar said. “Saint Kallen is the iron heart that never wavers. We will take our oaths to ideals, not politics. Maybe this is why Gideon is borderline hostile to us joining the order.”
“Almost a third of Mars’ armor is Templar,” Roland said. “Do you think High Command thinks they might…follow 3rd Squadron to the Ibarras?”
“I always thought it was odd that Laran was promoted to general and Corps Commander over Colonel Martel. She’s not Templar. He is.”
“Damn the Ibarras,” Roland said. “They caused this entire mess. Maybe we can end it all in this system before humanity splits into factions for good.”
“You’re not wrong,” Aignar said, “but don’t you wonder why those Templar went with them? What would make you leave the Corps, leave Mars…leave it all behind?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. We’ve got enough real problems on Oricon. I don’t need to add hypotheticals to my list.” Roland shifted inside his womb. His armor rocked against the deck, startling a colonist sitting next to him.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll let you go back to sleep,” Aignar said.
Roland shut off the IR link…but sleep never came.
Chapter 12
“From what little telemetry data we picked up,” Strickland tapped his control screens and crescent-shaped Kesaht fighters maneuvered in the middle of the holo tank, “their void superiority craft are not as maneuverable as our Eagles, but they are a hair faster. While we don’t know how many they lost fighting the Ibarrans, at the worst case, we’re looking at no more than a thousand by the configuration of their capital ships.”
Holograms of the fleet’s strike carrier captains and their wing commanders stood around Lettow’s tank. The admiral crossed his arms and looked at the Falkland’s captain, Hormond.
“We can get ninety birds in the void,” Hormond said. “One on one, our pilots are the best out there, except for the Dotari. From what little we saw at the tail end of the Ibarra fight with them, the Kesaht fighter tactics are almost…amateur. We can handle any mission you give us, but we get swarmed with bogies and the situation will be in doubt.”
“Understatements are not helpful,” Lettow said. “What if they sent every fighter they have at once?”
“The crews know the old Xaros drills,” Strickland said. “Each ship has spike shells and a volley of flechettes off the rail cannons would be effective. Haven’t seen a fleet do a full on thresher since we taught the Naroosha a lesson.”
“Have all ships run anti-fighter drills,” Lettow said. “I’m concerned about the missiles we saw them using, their tracking software and warheads.”
“The Ibarras know,” Hormond said. “Something tells me they won’t share if we ask nicely.”
“It’s in the Ibarras interest for us to bleed against the Kesaht,” Lettow said. “We take a beating and we might not have the combat power to bring their fleet to heel.”
“And I thought they might be redeemable,” Strickland said.
In the holo tank, alert icons pulsed over every ship in the Javelin squadron. Lettow frowned and tapped the Scimitar, the squadron’s lead ship. The ship’s bridge had gone offline, but the rest of the systems were still functioning. The same failure was happening to all the artillery ships.
“Damn peculiar,” Lettow said. He pulled down a menu on the Scimitar and opened a channel to the captain.
A vid link of Lieutenant Commander Wibben came up; the vid bobbed up and down as the man ran.
“Wibben. What’s going on?” Lettow asked.
Wibben’s eyes widened, startled as the admiral appeared inside his visor. “Complete power failure on the bridge, sir. Airlocks engaged just before most of my bridge crew could evacuate. Moving to secondary stations near engineering. We’re working on a solution now, and trying to get Ensign Talson out of there.”
“Sir,” Strickland’s eyes were wide, “just got updates from the rest of the artillery squadron. “They’re all reporting the same failure…and that one crew member is locked inside the bridge. All of them.”
“What the hell…” Lettow zoomed in on the afflicted ships. Then, the error codes vanished. Strickland looked at the admiral and shrugged.
The artillery squadron flashed amber as their weapons systems came online and the long vanes sticking out of their prow charged with energy.
“They’re targeting one of the Kesaht battleships,” Strickland said. Lines traced from the squadron to the massive Kesaht ship at the center of their fleet. The lines also passed through the cruisers Zurich and Beijing. Count down timers appeared next to the artillery ships.
“Order the cruisers to get out of the line of fire,” Lettow said to Strickland. “Comms, raise the Kesaht and tell them there’s some sort of malfunction.”
“I…I can’t, sir!” the lieutenant said. “The system just locked me out of the long range array.”
“Wibben! Shut down your rail gun,” Lettow said.
“Controls reverted back to the bridge,” Wibben said. “Talson’s the one doing this and he won’t answer me.”
“Get back onto your bridge and you shut him down,” Lettow said through a clenched jaw.
“Cruisers are out of the line of fire,” Strickland said.
“Comms?” Lettow asked.
“No joy, sir!”
He considered ordering the Ardennes to open fire on his own ships, but the command would barely be out of his mouth once the timer fell to zero.
“No sign the Kesaht have any idea what’s happening,” Strickland said.
The artillery ships jerked back in sequence as their massive rail cannons fired shells the size of a small car down the twin vanes aimed at the heart of the alien ship. Even with the blistering speed of the shells, it took nearly thirty seconds for the rounds to close the distance.
Lettow forced himself to keep his eyes open, knowing that he was the commanding officer of the fleet that declared war on a new alien species, whether he gave the order or not.
A rail cannon shell lanced through a destroyer-sized vessel just before it struck the Kesaht battleship, a shield flared across the massive ship’s prow. The shell careened off and struck the stern of an escort, sending it spinning out of formation.
“They have shields?” Lettow asked no one.
The next two hits delivered a one-two punch that sent a wave of static crackling along the port side. The last two hit simultaneously, stabbing through and ripping down the battleship’s keel. It split in half like an axe through a log of firewood.
Debris bounced off the remaining Kesaht battleship, sending ripples down the ship’s forward shields. To the battleship’s stern, a spinning cannon tube hit the irregular hull plates and chiseled one away.
“But their shields are directional…” Lettow processed this new bit of information as he resigned himself to a fight he hadn’t provoked, but the Kesaht would likely insist on
fighting.
In the holo tank, the Scimitar went offline with a total power failure.
“Admiral,” Wibben came up, his breathing coming quick and shallow, “my chief engineer tripped the emergency shut down sequence. I’ll be back on my bridge soon as we get the doors open. Have to use the manual gears and it’s taking time.”
Lettow nodded and closed the channel. The other artillery ships kept pace with the rest of the fleet. None of their rail guns had recharged for a second volley.
“Kesaht fleet accelerating to attack speed,” Strickland said.
“Comms?” Lettow asked.
“Systems are back on line but…they’re not answering our hails,” the lieutenant said.
“Orders, sir?” Strickland asked.
The Kesaht fleet reformed, their claw ships and battlecruisers settling in front of the remaining battleship.
“Ten minutes until we enter weapons range,” Lettow said. “Ten minutes to stop this from getting worse. Keep our current readiness level. Do not launch fighters. No aggressive moves.”
“They come swinging while our guard’s down and—”
“We have time.”
The holo tank pulsed red as sensor reports flooded Lettow’s screens. He skimmed over the raw data and frowned.
“A lepton pulse from the Kesaht? Why would they…” Blood drained out of Lettow’s face as the pieces clicked together.
New target icons appeared in the holo tank. Around the outer edge of the Crucible, Kesaht battlecruisers emerged out of stealth. The ships accelerated forward, closing on the 14th fleet like a giant maw.
Then and there, Lettow knew more bloodshed was inevitable.
“They were there the whole time,” Strickland said.
“It was a trap,” Lettow said. “At least we moved out before they could trigger it.” The 14th was outnumbered almost three to one, but the enemy was split into two parts. The new ships started flat footed and would take time to overtake his ships. When they joined the battle with the Kesaht ships hurtling straight for them, the scales would tip far out of Lettow’s favor. He opened a channel to his captains.
“Hear this,” Lettow said. “We have a fight on our hands. All ships will advance in formation at best speed. We’ve got the chance to defeat this enemy in detail and we will take it. Give them fire and fury. Any that survive will speak of this day with fear for the rest of their lives.”
Alerts came through from the rest of the artillery ships; they’d secured their bridges after the lone sailor locked inside had opened the doors. That it happened on so many ships at the same time told Lettow the event was no coincidence.
“Strickland, we’ve got traitors on our ships,” Lettow said. “We’re going to root them out once this fight is over. Then we’re going after the Ibarras to make them pay for this.”
****
“Torp launch,” Strickland said.
Icons emerged from the Kesaht fleet guarding the battleship and streaked toward Lettow’s ships. He watched them trace down their projected courses; this first launch sent two torpedoes toward each of his forward cruisers.
“They’re feeling us out,” Lettow said. “Engage counter missiles and point defense at max range. Let’s see what they’ve got.”
“Aye aye.”
A dozen small missiles shot from square cargo boxes bolted to outside of the cruiser’s hulls and closed on the incoming torpedoes…which moved at an almost languid speed in comparison.
The smaller Kesaht destroyers, their forward hulls bent into the shape of a clawed hand gripping at a target, sprinted ahead of the rest of their fleet.
What’s your game, Gor’thig? Lettow thought.
The counter missiles closed…and the torpedoes sprang forward, afterburners blazing. The leading counter missiles tried to swerve into an intercept course, more whiffed through the torpedoes’ trail. The back field of missiles exploded in the torpedoes’ paths, showering them with metal fragments and small magnetic balls full of denethrite.
A handful of the torpedoes made it through the phalanx of counter missiles. All but one fell to point defense turrets; the final scored a hit against the Beijing and exploded with a flash. The cruiser emerged, trailing hull fragments and a thin line of ice.
Seconds passed painfully as Lettow waited for an update.
“Beijing reports moderate damage to three decks,” Strickland said. “Weapons and propulsion unaffected. Some casualties, no number yet.”
“Launch bombers, minimal fighter escort. Have them target the incoming destroyers. Bombers will execute the hook on my command. Long range rail cannons on our cruisers and frigates focus fire on these ships.” Lettow said and marked three battle cruisers above the alien battleships. “Have the artillery ships open sustained fire on the battleship.”
“Aye aye.” Strickland sent the commands off in seconds. “That flagship’s sure to have shields. You think our artillery can get another golden BB through the shields?”
“I doubt it, but if I was the enemy commander I’d be afraid of just that after my sister ship got ripped in half. I want to know if Gor’thig will use his other ships as shields. Xaros had no centralized leadership. The Ruhaald would do anything to protect their queens. I don’t know about these Kesaht.”
Rail cannons across the 14th’s leading cruisers fired as quick lines closed on the alien ships. There was a flurry of rockets from point defense turrets, but the effort was too little, too late. Rail shells pounded the targeted cruisers. One exploded into a ball of fire and expanding debris. The second broke in half, the still-burning engines corkscrewing back toward Oricon. The third stopped dead in its tracks, flashes of small explosions bursting through the hull.
“They’re running under atmosphere,” Lettow said. “If anything gets through the hull, they’ll have to deal with fires…if blast waves don’t kill the crew.”
“Best we not interrupt them while they’re making that mistake,” Strickland said. “They’ve got plenty more cruisers for us to blow up…not including the ones coming up from behind.”
The admiral checked on the distance between his command and the closing ships. Still almost forty minutes until they reached weapon range, which was an eternity during a battle.
“Spread out the rail targets,” Lettow said. “See if a single hit is enough to take their ships out of the fight. No need to let them soak up rounds.”
“Admiral, the Kesaht are hailing us,” the comms lieutenant said. “It’s coming from the ship near Oricon.”
Another volley of torpedoes launched from the alien ships.
“Keep up the pressure,” Lettow said to Strickland. “I’ll keep this brief.”
He double tapped a screen and the Sanheel officer appeared in the holo tank.
“Treacherous animals,” Gor’thig snarled.
“There are rogue elements within my fleet responsible for the attack on your ship,” Lettow said. “I can share logs and prove that—”
“We know your history. What you’re capable of,” Gor’thig said. “I should have crushed you when I had the chance.”
“You mean those ships you had hiding around the Crucible? So if I hadn’t weighed anchor, I’d be the one sputtering about ‘treachery.’ We can avoid further bloodshed.” He glanced at the holo tank. The incoming torpedoes arced off their initial course and converged toward the Javelin squadron.
“No,” Gor’thig said, baring his teeth, “this will be my day—when the Kesaht Hegemony met the great evil and struck the first blow. I will carve the name of your broken ship into the Ascendant Steps myself. My ship will not destroy all of your infection on the moon. I would have your home world know that their reckoning is coming for them.”
“If you bombard civilians, there will never—” Lettow’s lip twitched as the channel cut off.
“What the hell was he talking about?’ Strickland asked.
“Damned if I know.” The admiral checked the time estimate until the battleship near Oricon would have line
of sight to Auburn City. The location of the city on the far side of the planet was likely the only thing saving the city from the battleship’s guns.
“Sprint!”
The Kesaht torpedoes made a sharp course correction and angled toward the cruiser Ottawa. The ship threw up a flurry of counter-missiles and fire from her point defense turrets, but the overwhelming mass of incoming targets overwhelmed the cruiser’s defenses. A torpedo hit the upper hull and exploded, ripping the top of the ship open. Another torpedo slipped through the gap and detonated within the ship. The Ottawa shattered into a thousand directions.
“Adjust line spacing to half,” Lettow said, watching a red X icon pulse over where the Ottawa used to be. “Overlap point defense envelopes, make it harder for them to overwhelm a single target.”
The Ottawa had eight hundred souls aboard. He doubted any survived.
He turned his attention to the claw ships closing on his destroyer screen. The Condor bombers had just entered weapon range and tracks from their torpedoes appeared in the holo tank. The torpedoes, much smaller than the Kesaht weapons, jinked from side to side, guided by a bombardier on the firing Condor.
The claw ships offered an anemic defense, barely more than a few laser bolts from a single turret at the “palm” of the ships. Torpedoes hit home, erasing the Kesaht ships from space. The reaming ships pressed forward, unfazed by the losses. Several dozen of the ships still remained.
The Ardennes rumbled as her rail cannons joined the fight. The holo tank filled with crisscrossing rail shots and torpedoes. His ships took damage, but none as catastrophic as the Ottawa.
The Kesaht suffered, losing a dozen ships in the first thirty seconds of the exchange.
“Maintain fire on—”
The deck lurched beneath his feet, tossing him against Strickland. The holo field flickered.
