Admiral's War Part One

by Wachter, Luke Sky

  “What have we got, Ensign?” he asked over the rising hubbub.

  “I’m reading four or five what look like tactical space superiority fighters, sir,” said the exhausted Assistant Sensor Officer.

  “A short squadron?” asked the Admiral. “Are you sure that’s all of them?”

  “That’s all we have on the screen, Sir,” the Ensign nodded.

  “We can’t afford to worry about them. They’re too small to make the difference here,” he said as the ship shuddered from yet another hit to their mid-section, “just tell tactical to smash them if they get in close or cross their targeting sites. You can notify me if anything changes.”

  “Of course, Sir,” said the Ensign.

  On the screen, one of the two enemy Battleships pounding the flagship off the starboard side started to move back. A third Battleship, which had been lurking off in the distance, smoothly moved to take its place.

  “Blast them! As soon as we damage the shields on one it moves out and its neighbor takes its place,” he cursed, smashing a fist into the screen on the left arm of his command chair which caused it to crack and star.

  “They’re picking us to pieces, sir,” Captain Pratch said, sounding worried even though not a hint of his concern was there to be seen on his features. “How are we going to get out of this?”

  Admiral Silverback gritted his teeth. He was the HMIC, the Head Man In Charge, yet despite this fact—alongside the fact that he was sitting in the hot seat—nothing was coming to him.

  “We could try running again…” he said, casting about for something they could do to get out of what really was looking like a no-win scenario.

  “We’re down to two of our four engines, sir,” the Captain reminded him. “If we had time we could probably get Engine Three back in action since they only cut the heat reduction lines. But half power isn’t going to see us outrunning any of those three, Admiral.”

  “Curse that coward Montagne to the rotten pits of Saint Squalor. If he’d only had the backbone to stand and fight instead of running away, we wouldn’t be in this fix,” Silverback swore, gnashing his teeth.

  “You did disobey a direct order to stay concentrated for mutual support right before we were hit by an enemy ambush,” Pratch pointed out. “It’s no small wonder he left us to our own devices.”

  Silverback turned to glare at the Captain. “That’s entirely beside the point, and you know it! Yes, I thought he was a fool or a coward plain as plain for holding back and letting a good portion of the enemy get away because of it. I guess the real fool was me. But even so, him running out on us as soon as the going got tough was cowardice plain and simple, Captain,” he said, his voice scathing. “I don’t care if he had the right as commander to call for a withdrawal. I won’t follow a coward.”

  “That’s your prerogative, Sir,” the Captain shook his head.

  Silverback purpled. “I swear that if I ever see that blighter again I’ll give him more than a piece of my mind,” Silverback said, his eyes turning hot and heavy. “By the space gods, I’ll—”

  “Contacts! Multiple contacts, Admiral!” yelped the Sensor Ensign.

  “What have you got, Sensors?” asked Captain Pratch.

  “I’m reading eight…no twelve…no, it’s a whole bloody fleet—and it’s flashing friendly IFF, Sir!” cried the Ensign.

  “I’m being hailed by the Flagship, Admiral!” reported the Comm. Officer.

  “Enemy ships have begun to turn. They’re starting to pull away,” reported Tactical.

  “I think you’ll get your wish,” remarked Captain Pratch.

  “What?” Silverback turned to him.

  “The chance to give Admiral Montagne a piece of your mind, Sir,” the Captain said with a glint in his eye that hadn’t been present a moment earlier. “Of course, it might be best to hold off on that until after the coward’s done fighting off the bad guys and rescuing us…Admiral, sir.”

  “If you want a career after this is over with, Captain,” Silverback spat out, “I’d watch my tone and be a whole lot more careful what I said, if I was you. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal, Sir,” the Captain said, his face stiffening.

  Silverback gave the other man a glare and then snorted derisively.

  “Course,” the Captain said after a moment’s silence, “it could be that I might enjoy some time on the beach at half pay, if and when we get out of this mess.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you think that I’m the one who got us into thi—” Silverback said in a rising voice.

  “Sir!” interrupted the Comm. Officer. “Admiral Montagne is getting pretty insistent, Sir. He says that since our coms appear to work, if whosoever is in charge doesn’t bother to speak with him then he’ll take that to mean we don’t need any more help—he’s threatening to move on if we don’t reply!”

  Silverback bit his lip, swallowing what he really wanted to say and then motioned to the Comm. Officer.

  “Put him on my private channel,” he said tersely, almost wishing at that moment that he really had been left to die…

  Almost.

  Chapter Fifty-eight: Pushing out

  “Rear Admiral Dark Matter reports that Sub-3 has the Aegis Thunder under tow and ready to go now, Sir,” reported the engineering watch stander.

  “The Sundered have driven off the fighters with their gunboats,” added Lieutenant Hart.

  “Then let’s get back up to speed,” I ordered tensely. We needed to get going—now. I could feel it.

  “Take us out, Mr. DuPont,” Captain Hammer commanded, and the ship got underway.

  “As fast as we can, Helm,” I urged, and DuPont nodded.

  “We haven’t run into any major opposition,” the Rage’s Captain observed sensing my agitation, “we’ve been fortunate.”

  “We’ve been lucky,” I disagreed with a frown, “but we need to get out of here before the worm turns. I don’t like the fact that there were Imperial Strike Fighters here when we arrived.”

  “Of course we do, and we are moving,” Hammer said calmly, “we’ve done what we can about the fighters and now it’s time for new business. What’s our next move, Sir?”

  I blinked as my brain seemed to hang on that query. For the last few minutes I had been entirely too focused on getting moving to plan out any kind of overarching strategy.

  The sad fact of the matter was that I was playing this entirely by ear. When the enemy had ambushed the fleet, throwing us into confusion and disarray, I’d done what I had to do in order to keep the greater part of our forces together and battle ready. But after being shown that the enemy not only outnumbered and outgunned us, but also had the faster legs to run us down with, I’d instinctively reacted by doing the only thing I could to neutralize their edge.

  I’d created a jammer field and then run back to hide within it. That had bought us time which, along with the idea of recombining with whatever warships survived inside the field, might just give us the chance to defeat one of the enemy’s Task Forces—assuming it wasn’t one of the Task Forces with the Imperial Command Carrier of course.

  Now I needed to come up with a plan and fast. I had a few notions already in mind, but I couldn’t keep staggering around in the dark until the Reclamationists stumbled upon us. If we waited too long, they would pick off enough buoys to finally pinpoint our position with their sensors—and then it would be ‘game over.’

  So far everything we’d done, despite our luck, had been the easy part. Now was when the hover plates hit the perma-crete and we found out if all I’d done was manage to delay the inevitable.

  “Point us toward the…” for a moment I hesitated. I wondered whether we should make a hot run for the hyper limit or take a much bigger risk and head deeper into the star system—possibly on a slingshot course—and try to get cute about it.

  “Yes…?” asked Hammer with a hint of concern in her voice. My indecision was clearly more of a problem than whatever order I might have given.

 
I clenched my fist. The sad fact of the matter was that I didn’t think we could sneak past high-end Imperial tech going for a stealth dive deeper in system. While some of our smaller ships might get away if we ran for the hyper limit, again, there was no way our Battleships were going to escape—especially not with three fleets of warships aiming for our engines the whole time.

  My face hardened. Right or wrong, I’d already made the call. “Sorry about that,” I said shortly, “take us out of this mess on a heading for—”

  “Contact! Multiple contacts! Sweet Murphy, Sir, it looks like a whole blasted fleet of Reclaimers just stumbled upon us,” cried a Sensor Specialist.

  My eyes shot toward the screen but I didn’t see the image of the Command Carrier. As far as I was concerned, that was all I needed to know.

  “Change of plans,” I announced, “all Battleships currently under tow are to be released for independent maneuvering and join the order of battle with the rest of the wall.”

  “Relaying now, Admiral,” said Steiner.

  “Message to the fleet: new movement order, Captains. Our course is straight at the enemy and our heading is right down their throats. All ships into squadron formation by ship classification. Battleship squadrons are to be front and center with Destroyers taking up position behind the BB’s for protection and are to be ready to exploit any openings in the enemy formation. I want our Cruiser squadrons to spread top, bottom, alongside the Destroyers,” I said, pausing to take a short breath for more air. “Remember this is just like we practiced back at Easy Haven, people. It’s time.”

  I gestured for Steiner to cut the connection.

  “Message sent, Sir,” reported Lisa Steiner.

  “The fleet is adopting battle formation,” said Hammer.

  “We’re now moving at the best speed of Sub-2’s damaged Battleships, Sir,” reported the Helm.

  As the Grand Fleet changed course and swung toward the enemy Task Force, the sensor picture started to clarify. It looked like the enemy had divided into two formations, each based around a Battleship squadron and pushed out screening elements to widen their sensor sweep.

  There was a small but noticeable gap—one that was closing even as I watched.

  “This is our chance,” I breathed.

  “Sir?” asked Hammer.

  “New order: the Grand Fleet Battleships of Sub-Formations 1 and 3 are to go to full military power effective immediately. All other accompanying warships are to maintain their current position relative to the flag, if able,” I ordered.

  “Sir! Admiral Silverback’s Battleships are not going to be able to keep up, not to mention several smaller warships we have picked up along the way,” protested Captain Leonora Hammer.

  “I’m well aware, Captain. Order to Sub-Formation 2 Battleship squadron; follow along at best speed, try to keep up and if you have the chance you are to hit the enemy as you pass by,” I commanded.

  “Sir. Admiral Silverback is protesting the order,” reported Steiner a moment later.

  “Ignore him,” I instructed.

  There was a brief hesitation. “Aye aye,” she replied with satisfaction.

  Like a freight train, the Grand Fleet moved toward—and then slammed into—the enemy task force.

  “Enemy warships are turning to present their broadside,” reported Tactical.

  “I want all ships in the fleet to target the enemy Destroyers. I want anything faster than a Cruiser left out of the firing solutions,” I instructed, my mind furiously racing.

  “Destroyers?” Hammer asked with surprise.

  “The Destroyers,” I confirmed firmly, “inform the fleet we are ‘weapons free’.”

  “Aye, Sir,” Hammer turned to relay the orders.

  As I watched, the enemy warships opened fire.

  “We’re taking fire, Sir,” reported Longbottom, “shields are holding, though.”

  “Any time, Mr. Hart,” Hammer said coolly, as all around us other ships of the Grand Fleet unveiled their gun ports and returned fire.

  “Gunners, prepare to fire when ready!” Lieutenant Hart ordered over microphone. “Fire!”

  Lasers and plasma balls belched from the flagship targeting not the enemy heavies, but instead aiming for their quickest and most vulnerable units.

  Closer and closer we came, with the enemy Battleships belatedly attempting to interpose their ships between our fleet and their lighter units—particularly the Destroyers that had started out this engagement much more spread out than usual.

  To call it a slaughter would have been overstating the matter. However, while our Battleship squadrons and, to a lesser extent, our Cruisers took the heavy weight of fire from the enemy, their Destroyers took the brunt of our fire.

  “Shields down to fifty percent and holding for now,” reported Longbottom. “We are experiencing some spotting—” he explained before being cut off when an alarm sounded from Damage Control, indicating we’d taken a hit somewhere. “As I was saying, I am attempting to balance the load on the generators.”

  “We took a hit to one of our port emergency airlocks. Three fatalities,” said Blythe.

  “Steady on, ship; we’re doing our job while they’re losing the ships they can least afford to lose,” I said confidently. Our Battleships might be taking damage, but their Destroyers were getting absolutely pummeled.

  In a flash, we were lined up opposite the enemy and exchanging fire at close range for several furious seconds before our inertia carried us past them.

  “Enemy task force is going from half burn to full military power; they’re attempting to come about,” reported Sensors.

  “Continue forward at our best speed, Helm,” I ordered and then turned to Comm. “And relay that message to the rest of the Fleet. No one is to go haring off on their own without my express permission.”

  “Message sent,” said Steiner.

  Behind us the slower Aegis Battleships were now taking fire. Fortunately for them, the enemy Task Force had overheated their guns attacking us. Unfortunately, even a reduced weight of fire could be deadly and those two Aegis Battleships soon had their shields knocked down and were taking additional damage to their hulls.

  Seeing them limping at their significantly reduced speeds wasn’t what I wanted, but it was the hand we had been dealt.

  “Did you want to give us a new course and heading, Sir?” asked Hammer, prompting me to break from my silent consternation at the Aegis warships taking so much damage.

  “I want this fleet out of the jamming field ASAP, Captain. Lay in a least-time course to the edge of the field and let me know when we get there,” I instructed.

  “Yes, Sir,” said Hammer.

  “Get me Admiral Silverback,” I swiveled to face my Comm. Officer, and Steiner nodded.

  “Silverback here,” said the other Admiral as he appeared on the screen and then seeing me he scowled, “I sure hope you have some great plan to save the day with this time Montagne. Because while I’m shocked and amazed our ships are still running, we’re just about all out of ideas over here.”

  “How many jammers do you have left, Admiral?” I asked.

  “Are your ships going to slow down and allow us to rejoin the main force?” he asked, instead of answering my question.

  “The jammers, Admiral,” I reiterated firmly.

  “We’ve each got one left,” he said, giving me a dissatisfied look.

  “Good. The Rage has a few jammers remaining as well,” I said with a nod.

  “We need help and a pick-up, Sir,” Silverback said almost pleadingly.

  “We can’t slow down or that Task Force behind us is going to catch us,” I said with regret, “right now we’ve freed you from three-to-one odds and given your two Battleships a chance to repair some of your battle damage. We’re going to be outside of weapons range soon. So here’s what I want you to do,” I explained, and then proceeded to relay the information to him.

  The other Admiral closed his eyes as if in prayer. “That’s a craz
y plan that, in all likelihood, is going to get us all killed,” he grumbled.

  “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears,” I replied firmly.

  “Well…since you aren’t planning to slow down, I guess I don’t have much of choice then do I?” Silverback asked bitterly.

  “If we see any more of your ships, we’ll make sure to bring them along if at all possible,” I said and then decided to add, “besides, there’s always a choice. For instance, you could go it alone as soon as you’re out of com-range and do whatever the blazes you want.”

  “Then just in case I don’t see you again, have a pleasant trip to Hades…Sir,” Silverback seethed right before cutting the transmission.

  Hammer looked over at me with a clearly worried expression. “Do you think he’ll follow the plan?” she asked.

  “Other than refusing simply to spite me, I don’t think he has much of a choice,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t add that if he did that then in all likelihood he’d be dead and I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. In retrospect, I maybe should have kept them—Silverback and his two Battleships, that is—attached to the tow cables. But if I had done that then I’d have other problems to deal with.

  Ultimately, the decision to cut them free immediately before combat was almost certainly for the best, even if it was now causing trouble.

  “That’s not very comforting,” she said to my immediate unhappiness.

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” I replied shortly, “everyone’s going to have to do their share if we’re going to get out of here alive. That means he needs to start pulling his weight.”

  “A harsh position, Admiral. I’d hate to be officer or crew on one of those Aegis ships right now,” she said with a hint of censure in her voice.

  “He messed up and put us in this situation,” I dismissed flatly. “All I’ve done is the best I can to bail him and the people of Sub-Formation 2 out of it. Now it’s up to him to carry it the rest of the way and save his people. That’s not harsh, it’s an unavoidable reality.”