WarWorld: The Battle of Sauron

by John Carr

  “More Saurons emerging, Captain...” The commo officer began calling off ship types and identification estimates and, as the list grew, Adderly’s spirit withered.

  God, we haven’t a prayer; we’ve got half the Eleventh Imperial Fleet here, but there are just so many of them!

  “Captain Casardi, please have your communications officer patch me in to the bridges of the Chinthes accompanying us. Secure beam, if you would; I’ll make the contact in my cabin.”

  Six

  I

  “Chinthes and Strela shadowing the prize ship, First Rank,”

  Weapons announced. ”Canada now firing on the Strela”

  Diettinger maintained his own visual communication link with the commander of the Leviathan, Vessel First Rank Vonnerbek. They had worked well together in the past, and he was confident they would do so now. As the commander on the scene, Diettinger was placed in charge of the Leviathan and her attendant forces for the duration of the mission; in this case, the securing of the borloi. Vonnerbek waited until Diettinger had finished relating the tactical situation to him before speaking.

  “Thank you, Diettinger. Be advised the First Fleet is arriving at this location in nine days.”

  Diettinger was thunderstruck; only iron discipline kept the shock from his voice and features.”Do you have information regarding this, Vonnerbek? Is the High Command planning to invade Tanith, attempting to secure it permanently?” He remembered what he had told the Imperial Captain Adderly regarding routes into the Empire, and with good reason. Tanith lay at several tramline exit Points, true, but each one in Empire territory was an Imperial Navy base. On top of that, the jungle world, though undeniably of great strategic value, was industrially worthless and militarily untenable.

  Vonnerbek spoke freely; there was no known way to tap into modern communications lasers. “Affirmative. The First and second Fleets together represent the majority of Sauron’s remaining naval strength. Our planners indicate that if we secure Tanith, even as no more than a refueling stop, and move before the Empire can react, then the next stop could be any or all of the Empire’s primary naval bases, even Sparta itself.”

  Diettinger held the other First Rank’s gaze. “That will not win the war, Vonnerbek.”

  “That is High Command’s estimate as well. But Socio-Ops are convinced that such action against the Imperial cattle will result in vast civilian backlash against the Imperial military, possibly forcing a peace.”

  Diettinger arched his right brow, the one not covered by a bandage. “I see. Socio-Ops is not my field.”

  “Nor mine,” Vonnerbek agreed, with a look that spoke volumes.

  Diettinger considered it a waste of personnel, talent and resources. From Vonnerbek’s tone he knew Vonnerbek agreed with his assessment. But they were Soldiers, and that meant both followed orders.

  “And, of course,” Vonnerbek concluded. “Leviathan is carrying special Occupation Breedmasters.”

  Occupation Breedmasters were the “eugenic shock troops” of the Sauron Race. They were supplied with hundreds of thousands of fertilized ova from Sauron females to be implanted in selected human norm “Breeders” who would then carry the Sauron fetuses to term. The genetic quality of these walking wombs would have no appreciable effect on the proto-Saurons they bore, freeing female Soldiers for more important war duties.

  Diettinger nodded, but the idea did not sit well with him. The use of Occupation Breedmasters signaled total commitment on the part of the High Command, but it was based on incomplete data. He doubted that they were aware of the growing fanaticism among human norms against the Saurons. They had not witnessed the enemy’s Chinthe destroyers strafing one of their own, Canada, just to kill a few Sauron Marines.

  “I wonder what Socio-Ops would make of my interview with the human-norm Adderly.” Diettinger said.

  Vonnerbek shook his head, and for a member of a race known for an inexhaustible supply of willpower in the face of adversity, Diettinger thought he had never in his life seen such an expression of complete hopelessness on another Soldier.

  “I strongly doubt they would take any lesson from it, Diettinger.”

  Diettinger nodded; he and Vonnerbek were in accord.

  We have lost, and in this last stage of war, we’re trying to regain the initiative against the Imperial military with diplomatic tricks dreamed up by warriors, and genetic terrorism conceived by diplomats.

  Still... if the War of Secession had taught him anything, it was that anything was possible. Perhaps the Empire could be forced into a peace of sorts. And in that peace, Sauron could rebuild.

  Unlikely, but we may yet survive. Somehow. That will be up to diplomats. Perhaps the Breedmasters can create a species of Sauron devoted to that art. It will not be up to Soldiers such as myself.

  “Strela and Chinthes breaking off.”

  Diettinger acknowledged Second Rank’s update and returned to conclude his conversation with Vonnerbek.”Very well. Prepare task force status for transfer to Fomoria’s tactical computer. Secure Alderson Point and stand by for Staff meeting upon our arrival. Diettinger out.”

  II

  Adderly waited for the skippers of the Chinthes to digest what he had said.

  Both were on private linkups to him, but each had to know the other was

  being consulted. He had ordered them not to be influenced by that fact, but

  he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Finally, each one signaled him that they

  were willing to try.

  “Thank you both, gentlemen. Godspeed, and good luck.”

  I’m asking them to commit mutiny, he thought. But I can cover for them if I’m wrong, and if I’m right, I won’t have to.

  There was another “if,” of course ...if the Chinthes were destroyed, by

  Adderly’s orders or by the Saurons. But there was no point in thinking

  about that.

  “Sir, Admiral Kellogg’s force is closing with the Sauron fleet.”

  Casardi looked to Adderly, but he ignored him. “Helm, port fifteen, make for the fleet,” Casardi said quietly.”Signal the Chinthes - ”

  “Belay that.” Adderly turned to Casardi. “Conn the Strela as you will, Captain Casardi. The Chinthes have their orders.”

  The Imperial and Sauron fleets clashed like ramming icebergs; on initial impact, formations interfacing and locking as ships began pouring energy into one another’s Fields, then the slow dance, as each side probed the enemy’s formation for weak spots, spreading out the concentration of ships in three dimensions, the rainbow-hued Fields connecting in a lattice of green and red lasers and streaking torpedoes. Inevitably, amid the flares of the thermonuclears and the brilliant laser batteries, there came the brighter flashes of collapsing Fields, as outmatched or outgunned ships died.

  Unnoticed in the first minutes of the carnage, two Chinthe-class destroyers drove through the center of the Sauron formation. Fields at maximum, lasers firing and torpedoes dropping through their Fields to engage targets of opportunity. Far richer targets were available to the Sauron gunners, and the destroyers were ignored. In the confusion of the battle’s early moments, their fate was indiscernible.

  Kellogg’s Operations Officer knew only that they disappeared into a maelstrom of Sauron lasers somewhere near the Alderson Point. The Saurons probably knew what had happened to them, but they weren’t telling.

  Eventually, a series of lucky hits burned through the Fields of the largest Imperial warships. The Imperial Fleet broke off, but the Saurons were in no position to pursue; all their Fields were into the violet, and Diettinger was determined not to throw away half the remaining Sauron space forces unnecessarily.

  Instead, he ordered the Sauron fleet to skirt the system in a wide arc, toward Tanith, to relieve their ground forces and get what he, at least, had originally come for.

  “Admiral Kellogg on the line, sir.” Casardi’s communications officer had managed to refine his “sirs” so that Adderly knew when he meant him and w
hen he meant Casardi. The call was for him, this time.

  “Adderly here.”

  “Adderly. I see you’ve lost the rest of your destroyers.”

  He said nothing. Kellogg couldn’t make much of it anyway; half the fleet’s destroyers had been lost this day. But the mood on Strela’s bridge went brittle as cold iron, Adderly heard one of the middies mutter an indeterminate profanity, tactfully directed toward his screens.

  “Your pardon, Admiral, but we have casualties here, and damage control has us busy. What can I do for you?”

  It was insubordinate, of course, but Adderly didn’t give a damn. It would be worth it to watch Kellogg’s face.

  “Well, I have good news for you, mister,” the Admiral almost sneered. “The King George V lost her bridge crew in that last salvo from the Sauron battleship Wallenstein. Captain Lester, his First Officer; all dead. I can’t afford to have the KGV out of action and I haven’t anyone to spare from the Fleet.”

  Adderly felt the floor rock beneath him and knew it had nothing to do with the Strela. A second chance? Or was Kellogg really that desperate? And what difference did it make either way? “My bridge crew from the Canada is intact, Admiral. I know they’d be eager to serve.”

  Kellogg lost control, slamming his fist again the desk. “God-damnit, Adderly, don’t make me ask! We’ve been mauled in this engagement, but that’s nothing like the worst of it. This mess is holding up an entire relief operation. We need to get those troopers off Tanith!”

  Adderly felt his face grow hot. Somebody was being a stupid, selfish bastard, and it wasn’t Kellogg.”I’m sorry, sir. We’re on our way.”

  Kellogg raised a hand, which he then put to his brow, like a man who’d thought of something he’d been trying to remember all day. “I’ve just seen the reports on Strela’s performance in the engagement, Captain Adderly.” He sighed, wearied at holding the words back.”My compliments to you and Captain Casardi. You’ve both been mentioned in dispatches. Signal me when you’re aboard the KGV. Kellogg out.”

  The connection had not been broken one second when Casardi gripped his hand. “Congratulations, WILL.” He grinned and snapped off a salute as he delivered the traditional Navy farewell to a departing Flag officer.

  “And good riddance. Sir.”

  He smiled back, but he was not thinking of the KGV, not even the Canada. As he had been since giving them their orders, he was thinking about the Chinthes.

  III

  Over the next five days, the Sauron and Imperial Fleets kept the planet Tanith between them while they re-formed, tended their wounds and spaced their dead with the ceremonies respective to each Navy. Neither pursued the other aggressively, but the Saurons doggedly drove off any Imperial attempts to bombard the spaceport, and the Imperials made it clear they were not about to allow the Saurons to retrieve their forces from Tanith’s surface.

  Maneuvering so close to Tanith put both Fleets deep within the planet’s gravity well, where high-speed accelerations would result being slingshot out of the action almost before they could engage. Caution and patience became the watchwords as the opposing fleets circled Tanith in wary maneuvers, waiting for an opportunity to destroy one another.

  Between those fleets, Tanith turned under her changeless skies, the ground battle having reached a stalemate. The Sauron and Imperial troops were both unsupplied, but the Saurons were too outnumbered to venture out of the spaceport and the Imperials were not about to storm the gates and go hand-to-hand with a force containing over a hundred Cyborgs.

  The enemies waited, and planned.

  The Fomoria was mated by docking sleeves and umbilicals to a fleet replenishment vessel. Combat and personal supplies were transferred between ships, preparing them for the next engagement under plan by Diettinger and the other commanders of the Second Fleet.

  Second Rank Althene was delivering the Fleet status update from the Fomoria’s briefing room; the other commanders were tied-in by message laser.

  “Casualty reports ten percent in our favor, plus variable advantage conferred by the destruction of an estimated seventy-five percent of the New Chicago’s fighters.”

  “Status of the enemy capital ships?”

  “Estimates only, First Rank,” she said. “Our reconnaissance cannot close sufficiently for definitive observation.”

  Diettinger pressed a switch that cut off their signal to the other ships. “Then give me your estimate, Second. An apology for circumstances beyond your control is pointless and time-consuming.” He had slept little, his temper was as short as their time for resolving the conflict, and Second Rank’s habit of over clarification was becoming annoying.

  Second Rank did not look up from her screen as she read: “Aleksandr Nevsky, George Washington and King George V suffered moderate but reparable damage. King George V suffered burn-through to her bridge section; ninety-five-percent probability of complete command and crew fatality.”

  Diettinger listened to the rest of the report, struck by the similarity of casualties taken on both sides. Except for the lucky hit on the KGV and the destruction of the enemy fighters, losses were approximately equal. On impulse, he asked Second Rank for specifics about one ship. “Status on the Strela?.”

  “No damage, First Rank, despite its engagement of four of our ships at different points in the battle. The Strela is evidently conned by an extremely capable commander.”

  Diettinger smiled, allowing himself to notice for a moment the dull ache in his face where his left eye had been. Capable, he thought, or highly motivated. Just what did happen to that Adderly fellow? And what about those two Chinthe destroyers that were headed for the Alderson Point at five-Gs? Did that last salvo get them both, or only one?

  “Very good.” He turned to face the images of the Fleet element commanders. “As you know, the First Fleet will arrive here in four days. This will precipitate a conclusive battle for the control of Tanith space and the invasion of the world itself, necessitating heavy planetary bombardment. The borloi is still there, and must be removed from the surface of Tanith before such bombardment destroys it.

  “First Rank Vonnerbek; the Leviathan will lead the first element of the Fleet against the Imperial force. You will maneuver around Tanith and attack from over the north pole of the planet. First Rank Lucan; the Wallenstein will lead the second element around the equator with a five minute separation from Vonnerbek’s element. First rank Emory; the Damaris will lead the third element over the north pole as well, with a ten minute separation from Vonnerbek’s element.

  “Between the time Wallenstein engages and Task Force Damaris departs, Fomoria and the combined shuttles of the Fleet will enter geo-synchronous orbit over the spaceport and begin simultaneously resupplying the troops there and lifting the borloi. Fomoria will then proceed immediately to the Alderson Point Three to Jump out-of-system and head back to Sauron. Task Force Damaris will accompany us as escort and to secure the Point for the arrival of the First Fleet. Questions?”

  Emory spoke. “Deployment for the initial engagement, First Rank: Would it not be more effective to engage the Imperials from a third flank, thus spreading their forces?”

  “Normally, yes. But once the second element of the Fleet engages, the Imperials will perceive a pattern and begin shifting forces to meet the third attack you suggest. Human norms choose patterns in their tactics - orienting their naval ops parallel to the plane of the ecliptic, reacting to sequential maneuvers in a clockwise pattern - it is a trait of which even they are seldom aware. As a result, there is an even probability that they will shift their forces, either toward the south pole, or away from Lucan’s equatorial maneuver with Task Force Wallenstein, thus further weakening their position for your reinforcement of Vonnerbek’s initial thrust.”

  Emory nodded in admiration. There were few Imperials who could boast Diettinger’s mastery of naval tactics, and almost no Saurons.

  “Proposition, First Rank,” Vonnerbek said.” The Fomoria’s ground troops have been on-stat
ion for almost two T-weeks; troops of the First Fleet en route and those aboard our own ships were designated for invasion ops before departure and are heavily supplied for same. They could assume occupation duty of the spaceport while your troops are returned to the Fomoria”

  Diettinger considered the offer; the moment the borloi was secured, he would be expected to depart for Sauron. Any delay to recover his troops, in the face of the current Imperial presence, could well prove fatal.

  He nodded. “Excellent, Vonnerbek. Thank you. Your own shipboard Deathmaster will coordinate with Deathmaster Quilland and Second Rank.”

  “Casualty parameters, First Rank?” Lucan asked. Quiet, and low-keyed, even for a Sauron, Lucan was widely referred to as “The Phantom.” Under his command, the Wallenstein had led a charmed life; more than two dozen major engagements, seven enemy capital ships and scores of merchantmen destroyed, all without the loss of a single crewman.

  Diettinger smiled.”Let’s see how it goes, shall we?” He was confident; these First Ranks were the finest naval officers of the Sauron Homeworld. The First Fleet would have many more ships, but few commanders of their calibre. ”The situation will very likely present unexpected opportunities,”

  There were no more questions, only satisfied acknowledgements from the other First Ranks.

  “Commence task force formation.” Diettinger finished the meeting. “Operations commence in twelve hours.”

  Seven

  I

  The bridge of the King George V was eerily intact. No equipment damaged, the acceleration couches showed no blood or gore; there was even a bulb of cold coffee floating idly in the corner. It looked for all the world as if her bridge crew had all simply stepped into the next room and would return at any moment. There was nothing to indicate they had all died within seconds of one another.