by Danny Loomis
Two of the battleships yawed from the formation, engines failing. By now the Wasps had closed to blaster range and swarmed the two wounded ships, stinging them again and again. Within moments both battleships were floating wrecks.
“Hot damn,” crowed Clarke. “It worked!”
“So far it’s worked,” cautioned Davis. “Have to wait for their response to see if it was effective enough to help us.”
* * *
“What the Hell?” Haven watched disbelievingly when the swarm of Wasps appeared, hammering the battleships he’d been holding back as a surprise. Even more shocking was the speed exhibited by the dreadnoughts and cruisers that also moved to attack his flanking ships.
The boiling mass of ships, missiles and laser fire drew everyone’s attention until: “They’re moving, Sir!” Both he and Winters’ attention switched back to the enemy fleet once more moving forward, but to the left this time. Dozens of missiles streaked towards three ships on the leftmost side of his line.
“Pivot and fire into their flank,” Winters ordered, even as two of his battleships fell out of line mortally wounded.
“Time to move the Ragnarok, Captain,” Haven said in a calm voice. “Make for the center of their line.”
Even as he spoke, three spears of light impacted the shields, causing a coruscating display. “Captain, the shields-they’re being overloaded!” called the weapons officer.
Haven stared at the hellish scene of three beams that had arisen from Eire, holding the Ragnarok in their grip. “Captain, take us to the other side of Eire. We’ve got to break out of those beams.”
Winters complied, staring at his screen unbelievingly. “What in hell are those? We can’t even identify the type of energy that’s involved. And where’d they come from?”
“Three locations on the planet’s surface,” Haven said, fingers flying over his board. “You’re right, can’t identify or measure them. Too powerful. Let’s just get away from it for the time being. We can worry about what they are later.”
As they swung around Eire, three more beams hammered them. “Shield strength forty percent and falling,” called a tech.
“Head for the nexus, Captain,” Haven ordered, sweat springing out on his face.
Winters scrabbled at his board a moment before finding his comm switch. “Make all speed towards the west nexus,” he ordered. “I say again, max speed from this system.” He watched unbelievingly while all Alliance ships turned and began moving away from the enemy, resulting in a breakdown of their defense. Now the battle line was a tangled mass of ships, as the Alliance forces were pursued.
Haven glared at Winters, face strained. “You just gave that order over an open channel, you fool. Now everyone’s retreating at once, rather than with any sort of order.”
By now they were three light minutes from the planet, and the rays had weakened considerably. “Shields now holding at eighteen percent, Sir,” said the weapons officer.
The impacting of Wasp missiles was the first indication they were again under attack. Fifty of them flashed by, each firing its blaster into the unprotected vitals of the ship. Fifteen were swatted down by defensive fire from the Ragnarok.
“Shields down on port side,” Winters said, voice quavering. “Taking moderate damage. Main shield generator out, backup’s coming on-line. Fourteen defensive pods knocked out…”
“Can we still fire our missiles?” interrupted Haven. “If so, target those ships that are approaching.” He tapped the screen for emphasis. Twenty cruisers darted towards them, plus another fifteen destroyers. “They’re moving too fast,” he muttered. “How’d they get that much speed?” Although there hadn’t been time to outfit the larger ships with the new engines, all of the smaller ships that had been retrofitted were sent with Admiral Davis.
“Turn our remaining shields towards those,” barked Winters. “How long until we’re at the nexus?”
“One minute, Sir,” called Nav.
Haven felt the Ragnarok shudder when the last thirty of his missiles were fired. All other tubes had been damaged or destroyed, and the reloading capabilities knocked off-line.
Before the Ragnarok’s missiles reached their targets, the cruisers and destroyers fired their missiles in one salvo. Haven’s insides turned to jelly. If those hit, they were gone...
* * *
Admiral Davis watched the retreating Ragnarok in awe at how much damage it was taking and still able to move. Chunks large as a shuttle were falling from its sides while it desperately raced away. Just as it entered N-space, the missiles began striking. He leaned forward, but was unable to see if the ship had been destroyed.
Clarke turned to him, a large smile on his face. “Admiral, it’s turning into a slaughter. They won’t stop running unless dead or too damaged to go any further.”
Davis watched his task force harry the remaining enemy forces, and shook his head. No, didn’t look like any were going to make it to the nexus. Not in one piece, at least. Minutes later the last enemy ship turned broadside on, and lowered its shields in surrender. The battle was over.
“Notify the government of Eire. We’ll expect their surrender within twelve hours,” he said, voice cracking. The slaughter of thousands, even though most were the enemy, was taking its toll. He slumped back in his chair, striving to look alert. God, he was tired!
* * *
Major Vogel lurched awake, groaning at the pain in his head.
“Back with the living, are we?”
He looked around, seeing a young man kneeling next to him. He tried to rise, but found himself bound hand and foot. “What-Where?”
“Welcome back to Eire, Major Vogel. My name is Dave. Dave Stern. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but you might remember the village of Murray’s Rest. I was one of the survivors of that slaughter you ordered there. Plus you personally killed both my parents.” An unpleasant smile covered his face. “God answered my prayers by sending you here.”
Vogel paused in his efforts to sit up. “What slaughter? I haven’t been planetside before. How could it have been…”
“Because I saw you do it, you miserable pile of shite.” He poked Vogel in his right leg, causing an anguished grunt from the pain of a broken leg. “All the rest of your crew died when the shuttle crashed. Surprised it survived the bombardment.”
Vogel sank back, despair threatening to overcome him. “Bombardment? What happened?”
“The entire division was destroyed. Your shuttle was caught in the edge of the blasts that killed everyone.”
“How…” He coughed, cleared his throat. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“About twelve hours. Long enough so I decided not to kill you myself.” Dave’s smile turned cruel. “In fact, I’m turning you over to one of the religious leaders of Eire. She’ll make sure you’re treated properly.” He turned his head and called. “Glynna? He’s awake.”
His face disappeared, replaced by an old woman’s thin features. Vogel started to relax, until he looked in her bottomless black eyes. He began shivering uncontrollably.
“So this is one of our would-be conquerors, is it?” She stroked his face, fingers lingering on his cheek. “Oh, my. You have a strong feel of foulness within you. Perfect for what we need.” She gestured. “Come, my flock. Hold him tight while I wipe away the evil in his soul.” Several more faces appeared and they grasped him, all women and all with a look of deep hunger in their eyes.
Glynna’s smiling face reappeared, a small knife in one hand while the other stroked up his leg to the crotch. “First, though, we must remove evidence that Gaia’s sacrifice is a man.” Vogel began whimpering when his pants were gently removed by several pairs of hands.
Once more Glynna’s face swam into his vision, knife held in front of her. She looked skyward. “Oh Gaia, we beseech you, take this offering…” The knife lowered from sight, causing his whimpers to become screams.
AFTERWARD
“�
��So we nailed two battleships and three heavy cruisers altogether,” Willy said. “Shag didn’t think we’d be able to paint ‘em on the nose of the Erebus, even though the old girl deserves to be rewarded for all she’s done…”
“Hell, man, they ain’t even going to give an award to us,” Shag said. “So what makes you think they’ll let us brag it up about what the ship’s done?”
Irish smiled at the joking his crew had been doing for the past hour. Made him feel like he was home. He straightened when the chime of an incoming message from Brian alerted him. “Erebus here,” he said. “And no, I’m not coming back.”
“Shite, man, how’d you know what I was going to say?” Brian said. “You promised to stay on as the Ambassador. Don’t you keep your promises anymore?”
“Ha! I only gave my word to stay in that thankless job until a replacement showed. Two weeks in Hell were enough.”
“Seriously, Irish, we’re going to miss you a lot around here. Even Bernadette.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll miss you guys, too. By the way, how’d the meeting with the new Exec Council go?”
Brian laughed. “Like usual. Except they’ve been enforcing our policy about punishing those who commit crimes against folks who used to be in the Legislaturist government. So things are quieting down nicely.”
“What about the offer to make you President for Life? Sounds like a cushy job to me.”
“No way! I’m sticking to my pledge to not even run for dog catcher. I’ll advise ‘em all they want. For a fee, of course. But no more being the boss.”
Several minutes later Brian signed off, leaving Irish with a feeling of loss while he stared at his comm unit. Damn it, he missed them already. He shook his head and looked up. “Shag, how’s our orbit with the flagship holding?”
He gave a quick check of his board. “Just fine, boss. We don’t need to go on board for another couple hours or so. Mister Grant said he’d be ready to talk to you then.”
Irish stood, moving towards the hatch. “Sounds good. I’m going to take a nap. Give me a holler just before it’s time.”
A hand on his shoulder brought him awake, and looking at Grant’s smiling face. He bolted upright. “Sir, good to see you. I thought we were…”
Grant waved a hand at him. “No, thought I’d come over here and chat. We’re tethered to the flagship right now. Shag and Willy are visiting with the Admiral. Seems he wants to give them an award or something.”
He swung his legs out of the bunk and came to his feet. “Good for them. They’ve been the best crew I could ever have hoped for.”
Once seated at the table in the main cabin, Grant shook his head. “Sorry to hear about the LRS losses. Almost half were killed, to include Lieutenant Smith.”
Irish looked in his coffee, sorrow once more filling him. He looked up with a shrug. “Yes, me too. At least Two Eagles and his squad made it.”
“Which brings up one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Two Eagles wanted me to get you the job as LRS Platoon Leader. What’re your feelings about it?”
Irish blinked, and took a drink before answering. “That would be great, Sir. But…”
Grant smiled. “Give it some thought. I could probably pull some strings and make it happen.”
He took a deep breath. “Before I started flying, that was one of my goals. But now…What are my other options, Sir?”
“If you’re thinking about flying a Wasp again, that’s not an option. At least for right now. What you do have in the way of flying is to become the permanent Captain of this ship. You’d receive your assignments directly from Confederation Headquarters.”
“Confederation…” His eyes sharpened. “You’re not with Sector Intelligence, are you?”
Grant shrugged, coloring slightly. “I know I haven’t been entirely honest with you. But the truth is I’m actually a civilian. Although a fairly high ranking one.”
Irish shook his head. “Next I suppose you’ll tell me that even Admirals salute you.”
“Of course not. But they do have to call me Sir.”
After one last swallow of coffee, Irish held out his hand. “I’ll do it, long as you let me keep Shag and Willy as my crew.”
“It’s a deal!” Grant said, shaking his hand.
“By the way, what kind of missions will you be sending us on?”
“Two main missions. Play a significant role in our war with the Alliance. Once done with that, you’ll explore the galactic arm we presently reside in. Someday, once we grow up a little more, we hope to find other civilizations out there we can interact with.” He reached out and tapped Irish on the chest, another smile forming.
FINIS
