“Where the hell is the medic?” Emily shot at Partridge.
“On the way up, Ma’am, but there’re wounded everywhere and they keep stopping.”
“Communications!” When there was no reply, she swiveled the chair to face the Communications Station. The Comm Officer lay crumbled on the deck in a pool of his own blood. Above him, staring fixedly at nothing much at all, was his assistant, a rating named Betty McCann. “Betty? Comeon, Betty, look at me,” Emily pleaded.
Chief Gibson left his station, marched to where McCann was standing and shouted into her face: “Sailor! Your Captain is giving you an order. Now get your head out of your ass and do your job! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”
McCann blinked rapidly, then nodded once.
“Betty, connect me to the rest of the Battle Group, audio only,” Emily ordered.
“Emily!” Grey said urgently. Blood dribbled from her mouth. “I must keep command. Captain Wicklow won’t press the attack.” She collapsed back in her chair, exhausted from the effort of speaking.
Emily hesitated. By all rights her first duty was to tell the Battle Group that Captain Grey was out of action and let command pass to the next most senior captain, Captain Wicklow of the Gloucester. She glanced about desperately for Alex Rudd, but couldn’t see him. Damn! She turned back to the hologram display of the entire battle space.
“Emily, go in and finish it,” Grey ordered weakly. “You can do this.”
And Emily was suddenly certain that she could do it. She had a plan, but she didn’t know if she could convince the other captains to go along with it.
“Betty, are we up?” she demanded.
“Re-ready,” McCann stammered. Behind McCann, Emily could see Naama Denker, the medic, hurry onto the bridge, followed by one of her assistants carrying medical gear.
“This is the New Zealand,” Emily broadcast to the Coldstream
Guards, carefully omitting just who on the New Zealand was calling. “Looks like they were expecting us. On my mark, all ships to shoot off chaff pods and ten seconds later, two sets of decoy drones. Send the first set of drones to travel twenty degrees to the right flank of the Dominion cruisers, the second set to move directly away from the cruisers. Our attack force will continue in the direction of the Dominion supply ships. New Zealand will control all offensive weapons for the first volley. If you are too damaged to fight, you should follow the drones away from the Dominion cruisers and try to reach Atlas. Acknowledge orders.”
One by one the ships acknowledged.
“Hits on the Dominion cruisers!” Tactical shouted. “Looks like one of them got hit hard and is falling back. A second is hurt, but can’t get a good read on it.”
“Mr. Gibson, do we have those damn colliers yet?”
“They are on a diagonal course that will take them behind the Dominion cruisers. From there they can turn and head straight back toward Bogey One, Lieutenant. They are accelerating, but still moving slow.”
The Dominion energy cruisers finished recharging and fired their second round. Only two of the four ships fired. But still…
“Destroyer Canberra has engine damage and is dropping out of line. Swansea reports loss of missile controls. Minor damage to other ships”
They were down to twelve fully operational ships. Not good. Not good at all. “Chief Gibson, do you have a lock on the supply ships?”
“Not yet. Lots of chaff and ECM. Another minute or so, skipper.”
“Max!”
“Who shall I attack?”
Gods of Our Mothers, I need a chess player assassin, not a brawler. “Max, switch program to Merlin.”
“Yes, Lieutenant Tuttle?” Merlin’s voice was wonderfully soothing.
She explained what she wanted to do. “The timing is critical. We need to be on the firing line just as everyone’s lasers have recharged. If we get there too soon, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
“A course with that time line is on the holo display, Lieutenant.”
Emily studied it. Next to her Naama Denker was working on Captain Grey, inserting an IV line. The captain looked pasty white, but slightly more focused. She smiled weakly at Emily.
Emily took a deep breath. “Betty, open the com to the other ships, audio only.” When Betty nodded, she said: “New Zealand to all ships. On my mark, fire all weapons at the cruisers, then launch your decoy drones. After the first volley, turn over navigation and chaff launchers to Merlin. Recharge your lasers immediately and reload all missile tubes. Merlin will coordinate the next attack. Acknowledge!”
She was gambling and she knew it. The ship captains in the Coldstream Guards were a proud lot and not above arguing with orders they didn’t like. And they wouldn’t like these. Giving control over to the AI for anything other than missile defense would be a blow to their pride. If they discovered that it was not Captain Grey giving the orders, but a mere Lieutenant, one of them — probably Captain Wicklow on the Gloucester — would assume command and her attack would fall apart.
“This is the Southampton. I must protest, Captain Grey. This is no time to risk a computer glitch. Tell us what you want to do and we’ll do it.”
“H.M.S. Gloucester here. I concur with Southampton. I will not turn over my ship to Merlin if we’re facing close-in maneuvering against heavy cruisers.”
Dammit, there was no time for this. The Dominion cruisers would have their lasers recharged in a moment. She turned urgently to Captain Grey. “Captain, I need to have Captain Wicklow relieved. Will you back me up?”
Grey coughed and took a rattling breath. “We need to kill those supply ships, Emily,” she wheezed. “What do you need me to do?”
Emily shouted to the ceiling microphone. “Merlin! Identify the Gloucester second in command.”
“The second in command is Lieutenant Commander Kamela Greer.”
Emily turned back to Captain Grey. “I need to get Captain Wicklow out of there now.”
Captain Grey gritted her teeth, and then broadcast to all ships: “Captain Wicklow, you are relieved,” she said in an almost normal voice. “Lieutenant Commander Greer, you are now acting captain. Acknowledge your orders!” Then she slumped back in her chair, eyelids fluttering.
“You’re killing her, goddammit!” Naama Denker hissed. “I need to take her to sickbay now.”
“No,” Emily replied. “She stays here on the bridge until I tell you. I need you to keep her in that chair and keep her awake.”
“If anything happens to her,” Denker spat, “I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
“Fine, do that,” Emily said absently, her eyes scanning the holo display.
Around her, the bridge crew was staring open mouthed. One of them started to say something, but Chief Gibson cut them off with a sharp gesture.
“Lieutenant Commander Greer, acknowledge your orders!” she barked.
“This is Greer.” Greer didn’t sound very happy. “Orders acknowledged. Standing by to execute.”
Emily breathed a sigh of relief. She would probably hang for this. Well, bugger them if they can’t take a joke. “All ships, fire on the cruisers, then assign chaff and navigation control to Merlin. Execute now!”
More lasers and missiles reached out for the Dominion cruisers, then the chaff bombs burst open, hiding Emily’s ships from the Dominions behind a cloud of foil, but effectively blinding the Victorian sensors. The holo display went to snow.
For a few moments, both sides would be groping about in the dark. But Emily had planned for this.
“Merlin, you have navigation control of the entire Battle Group. Execute.” Then she sat back in her battle harness and contemplated the ruin of her career.
Merlin fired off more chaff rockets, guiding them in close to the Dominion cruisers and exploded them there, further hindering their sensors. The cruisers slowly began to fall back.
Then, Merlin took the entire Battle Group to maximum acceleration, crossing in front of the Dominion cruisers, and curving in an arc to the Victorian’
s left flank.
As they crossed in front of the cruisers, the entire Battle Group was hideously vulnerable.
On board the Dominion cruisers, there was elation. They had neatly surprised the Victorian attack force trying to sneak up on the supply ships, scoring at least one kill and inflicting a lot of damage. But the long recharge time for the lasers had prevented them from full exploiting their advantage. Now it looked like the Vickies might be running…or attacking. It was hard to tell through the jammed sensors.
“Targeting radar! We are being hit with targeting radar from our left. Missiles! Numerous missiles incoming. ETA is four minutes.” The Dominion Tactical Officer hastened to activate the ship’s anti-missile defense.
The Dominion ships fell into a frenzy of activity, bringing their ships about to bring as many of the anti-missiles batteries to bear as possible. All their attention was focused on their left flank, and no one noticed the quick glimpses the sensors picked up of the Coldstream Guards flashing across their stern. In moments hundreds of half inch lasers were firing a continuous stream of protective fire in the direction of the incoming missiles. A well-placed anti-matter warhead exploded, destroying many of the incoming drones.
Finally, the Dominion cruisers’ powerful active sensors burned through the ECM of the drones.
“These are not missiles,” the Sensors Officer announced. “These are drones! Only drones.” There was a collective sigh of relief.
It was nothing more than a feint, a feint to keep them off guard while the Vickies escaped. “They’re running,” said the lead captain, with barely suppressed glee. The supply ships were safe and the Vickies were in disarray. It was time to disengage while the Vickies were still licking their wounds. He ordered one last missile volley in the direction they had last seen the Vickies, then began to withdraw.
“Gods of Our Mothers, Emily, are you trying to kill us all?” She looked up to see Alex Rudd, a white bandage wrapped around his head, dried blood still on his face.
On the holo display, they could see the last volley of Dominion missiles exploding behind them. The Repulse reported more damage and fell out of line.
“Did I ever tell you that before I joined the Fleet, I sold furniture for a living?” Emily asked absently. “I wasn’t very good at it.”
Rudd peered at the holo display, trying to make sense out of what he saw. “Did you really cross their front?” he asked, incredulously.
“Yes, and I relieved Captain Wicklow of command, too. I don’t think he was happy.”
Rudd looked at her, aghast.
The tactical display showed them entering the chaff cloud on the right flank of the Dominion cruisers. The path of the entire Battle Group hooked sharply to the right.
““How is the captain?” Rudd asked Naama Denker.
“Alive, no thanks to Lieutenant Tuttle,” Denker snapped. “She’s got a concussion and I think she’s bleeding internally. I need to get her into a medipod and get her stabilized, but I am under orders not to remove her from the bridge.”
Captain Grey opened her eyes and weakly patted Denker on the hand. “In a fight, Naama. Do your best.” Her eyes closed again and her chin rested on her chest.
Rudd shook his head, his eyes shifting from Grey to Emily to the tactical display and back again. “Sweet Gods, Em, if those cruisers see us coming in, they’ll chew us to pieces.”
“I know.”
“We will emerge from the chaff cloud in five seconds,” Merlin warned.
“All ships, prepare to fire everything you’ve got,” Emily shouted.
The Dominion cruisers turned away from the Victorians and accelerated steadily, but it would take time to get up to cruising speed. The holo showed a roiling cloud of EMC snow and chaff behind them and to the sides, but the lead captain could see the precious supply ships to his left, piling on the acceleration, no doubt anxious to put as much distance from the last known position of the Vickies as they could.
The holo display suddenly flashed crimson. An alarm chimed. The captain looked up, annoyance battling with alarm.
“Well, what is it?” he snapped.
They came out of the chaff within six hundred miles of the DUC cruisers. Almost sitting on them. “Fire!” Emily shouted. “Fire and reload and fire at will. Merlin, fire decoy drones. Right down their throats!”
Surprised as they were, the Dominion ships reacted swiftly, pouring laser and missile fire back at the on-rushing Victorian war ships. The frigate Mt. McKinley shuddered and rolled over, tumbling end over end. Life pods popped out of its hull, but there were pitifully few. Her sister frigate Annapurna lost huge chucks of her hull to an anti-matter missile. Air and bodies streamed out. A second missile hit made it spin clockwise like a child’s top. One solitary life pod emerged from the chaos, only to be holed by a laser.
Both the Victorian and Dominion crews raced to reload missiles and recharge lasers. The longer recharge time for the Dominions spelled the difference; the surviving Victorians fired three dozen lasers into the enemy ships, then launched another missile volley.
Three of the DUC cruisers fell silent. The fourth, which had turned away sooner, continued its desperate acceleration, popping chaff and decoys behind it, and made its escape.
“Damage report?”
“We’ve got sixty two dead, many injured. Missile batteries 4, 5, 9 and 12 are out. Laser turret 3 is down, but should be back up soon. All six engines operable, but Engine 2 will need some work as soon as we can get at it. Life Support systems are satisfactory, but the moisture scrubbers got knocked out in that first attack, so it is going to be pretty damp in here real soon.” This was Seaman Partridge, barely old enough to grow a beard, standing in for the Systems Officer, who was injured or dead, Emily didn’t know which.
Emily turned weary eyes on the three Dominion supply ships, which only now realized they were on a course toward the enemy rather than away from it.
Emily opened a com line to them. “This is Her Majesty’s Ship New Zealand. You have thirty seconds to get to your life boats and get clear, then we’ll destroy your ships.”
The captain of one of the supply ships called back. “You can’t do this. We have wounded. We need more time.”
Emily’s left hand was shaking. She put it under her thigh and sat on it. She felt eerily disconnected, as if she were watching herself from a distance. Keep it together, Emily.
“You want more time?” she said acidly. “You have invaded my Sector, killed my Queen and attacked us without provocation or mercy, and now you tell me you want more time? Fine, then, I will give you time to put your wounded into your life boats and give you safe passage, but on the condition that you tell me where the other supply vessels are. Surely you have their coordinates.”
His eyes shifted sideways, then back to her. “I’m not required to tell you-”
“So be it. All ships, prepare to launch on my mark,” Emily ordered crisply. Now her right hand was shaking, too. “Five, four, three-”
“My God, where is your humanity?” the supply ship captain cried. “We’re defenseless.”
“You tell me where those other supply ships are and I’ll see if I can find my humanity,” Emily snapped back. “You are out of time, Captain. Last chance to save your crew.”
He glared at her, then nodded abruptly, shoulders slumping.
“We have the coordinates of the other Dominion supply ships,” Emily broadcast to the other Coldstream Guard ships. “They are five thousand miles away, below our plane of advance. We are going to attack them, then find our way back to the Atlas.”
Time was the critical factor now. The Dominion cruiser that got away would alert Bogey One and reinforcements would be coming. They had to do this quickly. But this time, Emily intended to go in smart. She sent one flight of ten reconnaissance drones in front of her, and behind them, but six hundred miles above their plane of advance, she positioned forty decoy drones. She brought them up to cruising speed and then let them coast, powered down and
virtually invisible to anything but active sensors.
Then she sat back to wait. Beside her, Naama Denker knelt beside the unconscious Captain Grey, monitoring her vitals. “She needs to be in a medipod,” Denker said sternly.
Emily shook her head. “If she goes to sickbay, command will pass to Captain Wicklow. The Captain told me not to let that happen.
“If she dies, command will pass too,” Denker said coldly.
Alex Rudd drifted in again, head still bandaged and looking pale.
“Are you here to relieve me, Alex?” she asked. She hated the thought of it, yet at the same time it would be a tremendous relief to hand over responsibility to someone else.
Rudd shook his head. “I keep getting dizzy spells and have to lie down. Probably got a concussion. Anyway, you’re doing fine.” He looked at her, chewing his lip. “Did you really relieve Captain Wicklow of his command?”
She shrugged. “I needed Merlin to coordinate a time-on-target attack. Wicklow refused to yield control. There wasn’t time to debate it.”
Rudd wearily rubbed his forehead. Wicklow was known for treating is subordinates ruthlessly. He never forgot a slight, no matter how small. And he had friends in Court, influential friends who were rumored to be close to the Queen’s brother, the Duke of Kent. “If he finds out it was you, Emily…”
Emily shrugged again. She had already figured out that much. “I’m going to nail those Dominion supply ships, Alex. After that, well…”
Rudd looked around the deck. There was broken glass and blood smears everywhere. “Not much like the simulations, is it?”
Emily smiled wanly. “Real blood.”
On the Dominion command ship, Admiral Mello looked up in alarm as Jodi Pattin joined him, white faced.
“We just received a courier drone from the supply ships you were using as bait. The escorts have been destroyed and the remaining supply ships are at risk.”
Blood drained from Mello’s face. This was to be the decisive battle, by which he would destroy or capture the space station Atlas and defeat Victoria for all time. But he needed to be fully armed. He was almost out of missiles. Without the supply ships he would be reduced to fighting only with lasers by the end of the next engagement.
Alarm of War v-1 Page 26
