Wing Commander Anders spotted the incoming fire at the last moment and hit the vector thrusters button. It was for emergency course changes and sent a massive burst of power from an additional engine outlet mounted on the top and bottom of the fighter. The burst hit the two men like a sledgehammer, pushing the fighter down thirty metres before he corrected their course. The stream of shells tore past, missing the fighter by just a few metres. Their wingman wasn’t fast enough and a number of the rounds ripped through the nose and port wing, shredding the vessel and blasting it off course.
The two groups of fighters kept on their course, continuing to drift up and down to throw off some of the incoming weapons fire. They were past the centre of the battle and approaching three heavy frigate type vessels, all of which appeared to be breaking away from the heavy fire of the Confed cruisers. One of the ships had scores of domes along its flanks and top of the hull.
“Angel Squadron, watch out, the main target looks like a fleet defence ship. Take her out fast!” he barked.
“Sir, we’re in range!” shouted his gunner.
“Do it! Do it!” he cried and did his best to keep the fighter on a straight course. It wasn’t easy as streams of gunfire ripped past him, threatening to destroy the fighter in a single burst. As he tapped the joystick, he spotted the flashes from the other fighters and then felt the clunk from his own wing pylons. Four missiles released from their mounts and with a burst of fire pushed away from the fighter. At first their speed appeared slow, but they increased in velocity quickly, each missile hurtling towards the rear of the larger enemy ship. No sooner had they released their missiles, he gave the evasion signal.
He hit the vector button again and lifted the fighter up high and away from possible defensive fire. The burst of power from below the fighter pushed the crew downwards and Wing Commander Anders’ vision started to fade before the computer took over and reversed the thrust to put them back on course.
“Everybody here?”
He had his answer before anybody could speak. On the main tactical display, it flashed the status of the squadrons and showed him they were still down just one fighter. So far, so good. They moved over the warship and accelerated towards their next target. Below them the weapons turrets blazed away, but this time the enemy were more interested in fighting off the dozens of Skua missiles streaking towards their ship.
Once the first missile reached two hundred metres from the weapons detection, alarms flashed on the fighters. The point defence mounts must have triggered their close quarter mode, as the area of space around the ship filled with thousands of metal shards from the small Gatling gun mounts. The rapid fire weapons made short work of the first eight missiles, each of the guns tracking quickly to explode them as they reached the defensive perimeter. Only so many could be stopped, one struck near the port engine, quickly followed by another five. The first explosion was small, the blast contained by the medium armour. As the follow-up missiles arrived the damage expanded until a series of explosions tore out a large section from her hull.
All of this was insignificant next to the two torpedoes that followed right behind the missiles. The smaller Skua weapons were merely a decoy to keep the turrets occupied. A hail of small calibre defensive fire from three rotating turrets managed to clip one torpedo. The onboard computer sensed the distance to the target and also the damage it had sustained, determining it had to detonate. Though it was fifty metres away from the ship’s hull, the heat from the explosion managed to create significant damage. Even better, the explosion blinded the defensive system from the second torpedo. It slammed inside the damaged ship and exploded with a blinding flash deep inside its hull. A bright blue flash indicated the main power system had been breached and streaks of energy and debris tore from the inside.
“Beautiful!” Anders rolled over to watch the stern tear completely away from the ship, both sections now blazing from internal fires. Additional explosions continued along her entire length.
“Angel and Delta Squadrons, reform on me.”
In didn’t take long for the remaining fighters to regroup and move to a safer distance from the ongoing battle.
“Are you seeing this?” called Angel Three.
“All I can see is a whole lot of lead being flung down there!” exclaimed one of the other pilots.
Wing Commander Anders glanced at the tactical map. The space battle was becoming messy. Dozens of ships were now broken from formation and small skirmishes between two or three ships at a time made it look more like a ground battle. He could see their target, the break in the line, where a light cruiser was trying to escape. During their attack, the cruiser must have been joined by another frigate and they were circling a Confed armoured cruiser. The enemy vessels included a small number of captured Confederate ships, at least two cruisers and three Achilles class frigates. It made visual scanning difficult with so many similar ships fighting.
“Sir, I think the larger ship is on a collision course with the cruiser!” called one of his wingmen.
He looked at the unfolding battle and hit the analysis engine built into his computer system. It quickly calculated the likelihood of collision, his wingman was correct.
“Affirmative. They will strike the Valiant in seventy seconds.”
“Can they evade?”
“Negative, they are already trying. The enemy cruiser is faster and more manoeuvrable.”
He checked to his left and his right, ensuring the rest of the fighters were with him.
“We have two more torpedoes left. Break and attack, we have to keep her away from the Valiant.”
“What about the frigate?”
Wing Commander Anders thought for a moment. He had just seven fighters and four bombers. It was maybe enough to damage the frigate, or the cruiser, but not both. He couldn’t decide and was about to say something when one of the bombers spotted movement from the centre of the battle line.
“Sir! The Crusader!” he shouted.
Anders looked down to his right, unable to see what was happening. Then he saw her. The Crusader smashed through the wreckage of the crippled cruiser and towards the approaching enemy light cruiser. As she emerged from the dust and sparks, her damaged, but still intact armoured prow, was forcing through like a battering ram. Though most of her weapons were along the hull in the rotating rings, there were still four guns mounted in the bow and they fired continually. The volleys of projectiles surged ahead and tore chunks out of the two enemy ships.
“Sweet! Look at her go!” cried one of the bomber pilots.
As the hulk of the ship cleared the debris, her broadside batteries were clear and even more railguns opened fire. Several looked like scatter guns as they blasted the approaching enemy ships. The front of the enemy light cruiser vanished, as metre-long sections were ripped apart. A ripple of blue explosions ran along the dorsal section of the ship, as it ripped apart into three almost equal sections. The remaining frigate turned to flee, but was already taking dozens of railgun rounds in her flank. Lifeboats appeared to be launching.
A light on the comms system indicated a coded message from the warship. He tapped the receive key.
“This is Captain Tobler, commander of the CCS Crusader. We have this under control. Proceed to the Assault Division and join the rest of the air support. They need your assistance. Good work, Wing Commander.”
Anders sighed to himself before turning from his attack. His first thought was disappointment that they were not needed and that their possible sacrifice had been so easily brushed aside. This thought was quickly tempered by his realisation that his group of fighters would have taken heavy casualties up against a well-armed light cruiser, and possibly faced complete annihilation. In reality, their craft were not designed for use in the middle of what was turning out to be slugfest.
“Abort attack run! Follow me, we have new orders!”
The fighters changed course and dropped down below the line of battling capital ships. Their thrusters allowed t
hem to move quickly from danger. Weapons fire still rushed past them, but with their engines on full burn they were soon away from the larger ships and back in the vast open space between the planet and the battle. As Wing Commander Anders surveyed the scene, he was surprised by the calmness of space. It was hard to believe he had just been at the heart of an inferno where hundreds of men were dying from missiles, rockets and projectiles. He checked his computer and spotted the assembling vessels off near the planet.
“Listen up. The Assault Division is making its run on the planet. Reports indicate the enemy has stopped sending transports to the surface, but they have large numbers on the ground. If our guys are going to stand a chance they’ll need close air support, and fast!”
With a slight course change, the fighters hit their primary thrusters and hurtled towards the planet and the great hulks of the military transports. Their combat operation in the main battle might be over but from what he could see on his scanner, the assault on the planet might make the space battle seem easy.
“Gods. Have you see this?” asked his navigator in awe.
Anders looked up, tapping the magnification button to expand his main viewing window. The shapes of the assault ships filled his screen around the planet. Large numbers of transports lurked in orbit and scores of shuttles and landing craft were getting into position for their attack run.
“What?” asked Anders.
“Look at the tactical map of the spaceport.”
He pressed three buttons and examined the landing zones. The orbiting ships had already sent updated video feed data to the command ships and this had filtered down to the fighters.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah, recon estimates over a hundred anti-air defences are already in position around the landing zones. Do you think they know something we don’t?”
“Bastards. That, or somebody told them we were coming!”
* * *
Spartan waited patiently inside the landing craft. It was cramped, packed full of the Vanguard Marines, each of them strapped or clamped to the newly welded bulkhead mounts. The last thing any of them wanted was to be thrown about during the combat landing. From inside the safety of his armoured suit, he watched the unfolding battle on the internal monitors. The platoon had been split onto two landing craft. Marcus and Lovett were in the second craft along with 2nd and 3rd Squads. Teresa, his most trusted sergeant, was now alongside him, acting as Platoon Sergeant for the entire unit. A few marines from the Engineer Company accompanied them, each wearing the older and much more primitive CES armour.
Teresa turned towards him.
“Any news on the spaceport landing?”
“Good point, the figures coming in are showing heavy defences around the spaceport.”
Spartan checked his secure tactical display and hit a button. It sent the latest feed to the main video unit on the wall in the passenger section of the craft. All the assembled marines could see the unfolding battle in great detail. The main feed came from the camera units fitted to the Assault Carrier Ark Royal.
“Look at it!” Teresa said in awe.
The Ark Royal had dropped as low as it could manage, before the heat from skimming the atmosphere proved too much. From its position, the cameras could just about make out the details of the descending fighters and landing ships of different types. Wave after wave of Lightning bombers pounded air defences and other craft dashed at high speeds dropping guided bombs.
Streams of tracer fire arced upwards, some occasionally scraping one of the bombers or hitting a fighter. In the middle of the maelstrom, the first of the heavy landers and shuttles swept in to disgorge their infantry. One shuttle took multiple hits and spiralled down to the surface streaming smoke. Teresa groaned as she watched the vessel plummet to its death.
“This is going to be a massacre. If we don’t get to the city fast, they’ll turn their guns on us.”
Spartan hit the communication button in his suit to connect to Captain Daniels, who was observing the operation from the Marine Transport CCS Santa Cruz.
“Spartan. Everything okay?” he asked with dread in his voice.
“No problem here. We’re watching the spaceport landing. Have you seen what’s happening?”
“I know. The reports are coming in. Looks like they arrived earlier than expected. Multiple guns and missile platforms are on the hills and on the highways. They’ve left the centre of the spaceport clear, probably to tempt us to land.”
“Can’t we redirect to the city? What are the defences like there?”
“No chance. The city is in the valley surrounded by mountains. There are only a few open spaces, enough for small units like ours, but useless for landing anything more. Unless we take the spaceport, you’ll be on your own. Major Howard has contacted me to say his first battalions have landed and they are establishing a beachhead.”
“What is the point, if they can’t get to us? Can’t they bring some landers down into the open countryside instead?”
“It’s too late, Spartan. The battalions are already committed and by all account they’re making progress. My bird is still stuck here. You’re going to have to go without me. You’re the most experience Lieutenant in the Vanguards, you have my authority to take the lead over 2nd Platoon in my absence.”
There was a crackle of static before another voice joined in.
“Captain, Lieutenant Weathers here.”
“Ah, good. I was just explaining to Lieutenant Spartan. My shuttle is delayed and you’re going to need to get going without me. Until I join you, Spartan will be taking the lead. He has more experience of the Vanguards. Understood?”
“No problem, Sir, Spartan’s reputation is well earned,” replied Lieutenant Weathers, with surprisingly little resentment.
“Thank you, I won’t let either of you down.”
Captain Daniels continued.
“I suggest you get the Vanguards into action immediately. I’ve requested the Ark Royal redirects three squadrons of fighters for your support. They will follow you in and then remain on standby. Two Lightning bomber squadrons are blocking the highways and routes to the city. Any forces trying to move back to the city will have to face running their gauntlet.”
Spartan turned to Teresa, who was listening in on the conversation. She shook her head is despair, evidently not impressed with the operation.
“I know this isn’t what we planned.”
“When is it ever?” replied Spartan.
“Too true,” he paused for a few seconds, “Just get your people on the ground. The quicker you get to the surface, the less danger you’ll be in. I’ll get on to Major Howard and see about forcing a breakthrough to link up with your forces.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Good luck, Lieutenant, I’m sure the Vanguards will do their job.”
“We always do. Spartan out.”
He looked back to Teresa. “We’re going in hot. You ready?”
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”
“Check in with the squad commanders, I want them ready. We go now.”
She nodded and pressed a few buttons in her suit to connect to the rest of the company. Spartan meanwhile transferred his communication gear to the open unit channel.
“This is Lieutenant Spartan. The mission is a go. I repeat. The mission is a go. Get my people into the LZ as fast as you can.”
The pilots of the force responded quickly. In less than twenty seconds a rumble started to build up inside the landing craft as the engines powered up. Spartan could feel the changing g-forces and gravitation pull as they dropped in through the atmosphere. It wouldn’t take long for them to reach the surface. Once through, the craft could glide to the surface or use additional power from their engines to speed up the process.
“Sergeant Lovett, 2nd Squad. I have reports of armour breaking through the city limits.”
Spartan tapped the intercom. “Yes, a small group are trying to break the bomber blockade. The
y must know we plan on hitting the city. Stick to the plan. We hit the plaza and then move as a unit to the shopping precinct and mall. There is underground storage and two primary tunnels at the same site. Is your squad ready?”
“No problem, LT, they are locked and loaded.”
“Good work, we hit the ground in twelve minutes. Do the final checks.”
* * *
Captain Daniels watched the groups of landing craft and their escorts heading to the surface, from his position in the landing bay of the Santa Cruz. His own armoured assault shuttle was still being prepped and wouldn’t be ready for another ten minutes. He paced about angrily, his Vanguard suit clanking on the metal flooring. One of the many upgrades to the Vanguard armour had been magnetic seals on the feet, so that they could walk in the zero-g areas that were equipped with compatible walkways.
“What’s the hold up?”
The pressure regulator has failed. We are bringing in another shuttle, she’ll be here shortly, Sir,” answered a frustrated deck chief, who moved away to the safety of the control booth as a new shuttle was moved into position.
All the crew and marines in this part of the ship were wearing sealed suits, as the section was open and fully exposed to the vacuum of space. From where Captain Daniels stood, he had a view to down to the planet. Visibility was poor, with thick clouds obliterating much of the detail. Only the advanced optics of the ships would allow him to see what was happening on the surface.
“Does it always look like this, Sir?” asked one of his marine bodyguards, also wearing Vanguard armour.
He looked out to the pane below, watching a pattern of clouds. He was about to speak, when two Lightning Bombers rushed past, making no sound. They must have been on their way to join the landing party. The large four-engine fighter-bombers looked massive at this close distance, but they were some of the smallest craft being used in this operation.
“It’s mainly down to the atmosphere generators on the surface. They throw up all kinds of crap. It’ll be decades before it clears up to anything like a normal sky.”
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 18
