by TR Cameron
"What's up with that?" wondered Jacobs. Cross shook his head, the pattern not clear to him yet, either.
"Tactical?"
"The computer is still gathering data, Commander, but the initial conclusion is that the enemy is avoiding direct confrontation, but keeping the battle isolated in one location."
"Why would they do that?" asked Cross. No reply was forthcoming. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and said, "Let's see if we can push them out of that tactic. Lee, take us beneath our own line, then circle up and around behind to attack this cluster." He tapped a designator on his display, and a set of four ships took on an orange outline on the main screen.
"Fitzpatrick, connect me to the Chicago, please."
"Go, Commander."
"Admiral Okoye, good to see you again."
"And you, Cross. I'm rather too busy for social niceties, though, so get to the point." Cross frowned and thought Okoye was taking the whole distance thing a little too far. "Admiral, I request a salvo of torpedoes and fighters support against these targets in…" he looked over his tactical officer, who supplied the information he needed. "In forty-eight seconds," he finished.
"Torpedoes, yes, fighters are committed to other tasks. Chicago out."
"Fair enough," Cross murmured. "Walsh, are we carrying any tunnel torpedoes?"
"Affirmative, Commander. We were able to get eight. They’re a hot commodity at the moment."
"Well, let's not leave them sitting around. If the enemy acts as before, they should turn to run as we engage. Launch the torpedoes on a path to delay their arrival, then tunnel them into the front of their ships as they retreat. Hopefully we can weaken those shields with our initial salvo, then finish them off."
"Use all the torpedoes, Commander?"
"Affirmative."
"Aye."
Cross watched and waited as the seconds ticked away, following the action on the display. Both sides were sniping—darting in to take shots, but then pulling back out of range. Even with their numerical superiority, the human forces weren’t receiving the decisive battle the admiral had promised.
"Fire everything," Cross ordered as they looped out of the shadow of their allies and into range of the enemy. The Washington spun, bringing both broadsides to bear and filling the space that separated them from the Xroeshyn with energy. The torpedoes took higher and lower routes to avoid the blasts and closed quickly. As predicted, the alien ships reversed course, and his weapons officer delivered the tunnel torpedoes masterfully.
A pair of missiles impacted the weakened front shields of each enemy ship and exploded in incandescent energy. Two of the four absorbed the blasts without obvious damage and continued their flight. The third seemed to absorb the impact of the first, but the second drilled into the hull before detonation. The ship expelled brilliantly colored gases, and it skewed violently to one side—the side that the fourth ship was on.
The combination of the torpedo strikes on that vessel and the collision with its ally, gutted the enemy ship and sent it spiraling away. It left a trail of sparks and debris, as internal explosions consumed it. Several torpedoes from the ships that survived the assault were intercepted by the London before they could reach the Washington.
A cheer went up on the bridge, and Cross allowed himself a moment to savor the small victory.
The moment was all that was available, though, as the enemy's plans became clear. A wash of color materialized in the rear of the human lines, and four enemy cruisers appeared in the space. Within seconds, they’d launched full salvos of energy and weapons to converge on the Anchorage. The UAL flagship absorbed the brunt of the laser and plasma blasts, but the combined fire of all four ships against their unbalanced rear shields was overwhelming. Torpedoes penetrated all along the starboard side, then detonated and created secondary explosions from the damage. The destruction marched in both directions, covering the ship. Where they met, large gouts of flame blasted from the dorsal and ventral surfaces. The attack happened so fast that no escape pods were able to launch before the Anchorage disintegrated, sending shrapnel into the shields of her allies.
"Head for the back," Cross commanded. "Walsh, pick an enemy ship and coordinate with the London. Throw everything we have at it."
The two UAL ships curved along the outside of the formation, absorbing maximum range energy blasts from several enemies as she crossed their paths. Admiral James Okoye's voice carried across the battle net. "This is Okoye of the Chicago. I’m taking command of all forces in the sector due to the destruction of the Anchorage. All ships and fighters disengage and retreat to protect the carriers. Maintain your own safety as you do so. Specific defensive assignments to follow. Also, beware of the previously unidentified ships. They’ve destroyed several of ours by ramming them."
Cross pointed at Lee, who was looking back over his shoulder, and the helm officer nodded and turned to make the admiral's orders a reality.
Cross reclined the tiniest bit and exhaled, studying the main screen as if the energy of his gaze would force it to reveal whatever secrets it was still hiding.
He was watching the real-time display, when he saw a ripple of distortion in the corner of the field. A questioning frown covered his face as he leaned forward to stare at it. Suddenly, energy blasts and torpedoes appeared from nowhere. He only had time to yell, "Evasive," before the Washington received multiple ships' worth of lasers, plasma, and torpedoes. Klaxons sounded throughout the ship as it lurched violently.
"Shields full, turn our damaged side away from this point." Cross tapped the location on his display. "Sensors, deep scan on that spot. I saw something. Tactical, report."
"Major damage on all decks, commander. We've lost shuttle bay one. Torpedo loading mechanism for the starboard broadside is off-line. Energy conduits to that broadside have been severed."
"Eject the starboard magazines."
The tactical officer complied, and the storage unit filled with stacked torpedoes rocketed away from the damaged ship.
"Engines?"
"No damage, Commander."
"The sensors cannot detect anything," said an angry Flores from the sensor station.
"Dammit," Cross growled. "Okay, Walsh, cover that area with everything we've got. Countermeasures, torpedoes, energy. Create a spiraling pattern from that point and keep firing. Lee, make our movements erratic. There's something out there targeting us."
He knew his officers would collaborate on the firing solutions and left the task to them. "Fitzpatrick, alert the Chicago that we seem to have invisible enemies in the sector."
"Aye, Commander."
Cross's mind raced, considering and discarding tactic after tactic to force the hidden foe to reveal itself. Another burst of energy and torpedoes erupted from nowhere to slam into the Washington's undamaged side. New klaxons sounded, signifying loss of atmosphere, and he looked over at Matthews.
"The crew is on independent air, Commander. There was no penetration, just enough concussion to break open some seals. She's hurt, but not crippled."
Cross nodded. His weapons officer shifted to the source of the barrage, and as more energy blasts sped in, he saw ghost images of four ships.
"Sensors," he began, only to be cut off.
"I've got them, Commander. The computer has latched on to a formerly unknown energy signature and is now scanning for it."
Cross watched on the battle schematic as the images crept into reality. Three ships were arranged in formation around a fourth. The three were unfamiliar, and smaller than most of the enemy ships they’d seen so far. The fourth, however...
"It's her, Commander," said Flores. "The Ruby Rain."
"Of course, it is," Cross replied with a curse. "Target one of the smaller ships and fire everything."
"Incoming," announced Matthews, as the Washington's own offensive play began. Energy weapons and torpedoes from their undamaged side, plus plasma blasts from an almost useless range, sped toward the enemy and impacted. The small ship exp
loded, and whatever mysterious technology had been occluding the Ruby Rain from sight fell away.
The Washington dove in a violent maneuver to avoid the incoming barrage, and Cross realized he'd been played. Instead of following him, the torpedoes drilled into the London, causing it to stagger to the side as the weapons penetrated its structure. The two smaller ships sped around to attack it as the Ruby Rain refocused on the Washington. Cross saw a wing of fighters coming in from the side, and as soon as it was in range, it launched a salvo at the Ruby Rain.
"Time ours accordingly, Walsh," Cross ordered.
The Ruby Rain fired at the Washington, but she absorbed the blasts without worry, her strongest shields pointed at the vessel. The enemy ship slipped to the side to avoid the initial barrage of missiles from the fighters. It took one more shot at the Washington, using both energy and torpedoes, before turning tail and dashing for the safety of its comrades.
"Assist the London," Cross began, but his orders were immediately rendered irrelevant. The tiny ships were positioned at the bow and stern of the Washington's partner, and it appeared to crumple from both ends, then exploded as the loss of structural integrity compromised the engines. The blast destroyed the two enemy ships, and sent radiation, energy, and shrapnel into the Washington's already damaged starboard side.
The main lighting died, replaced seamlessly by battery-powered emergency illumination.
"Engines down," reported Matthews. "Major damage to sections six through twelve on all decks."
Cross slammed the communication panel on his chair with his fist. "Jannik, status."
Jannik's reply was shouted over the sounds of conversation, klaxons, and damaged components in engineering. "Main drives are down. It appears to be structural. I'm not positive we’ll get them back up anytime soon."
"Wormhole drive?"
"Functional but a bad choice. The stresses of wormhole transit could easily fracture the ship."
"Tunnel?"
"Off-line. That's our first priority. We might survive that one."
"Let me know when it's up. Bridge out." Cross again slammed his fist, this time to close the channel.
"Lee, do we have maneuvering thrusters?"
"Bow, aft, and port only, Commander."
"Okay, try to keep her away from the majority of the enemy forces without setting us out on our own. Chart a course back toward our command ships, however indirect."
"Affirmative."
He fumed, unable to think of a single additional thing to do except hide and hope they could reach safety before the enemy noticed how damaged they were.
"Um, Commander?" Flores said, pointing at the display. In the far corner, a set of ships that included a rammer, three cruisers, and the Ruby Rain, had detached from the main battle and was heading toward them.
Cross cursed, creatively and thoroughly, adding prayers to whatever force ruled the universe to reach out and swat the Ruby Rain away like the annoying pest she was. No such aid was forthcoming.
"They’ll be in range in twenty seconds, Commander," Matthews said in a funereal tone.
Cross thought furiously, but came up with nothing. He forced the command out through gritted teeth. "Stand by to initiate evacuation procedures."
Chapter Eighteen
"Come about to 230°, twenty-three low" barked Captain First Rank Dima Petryaev has he saw the Ruby Rain and its partners begin their attack run on the Washington.
The Beijing creaked as he repositioned, and the engines increased to full power.
"Fire starboard broadside. Target the rammer," he ordered.
"Aye," responded his weapons officer, and torpedoes leapt from their tubes to follow a barrage of energy on a direct line to the enemy ship. It was immediately clear that the attackers were not to be deterred, however, as the Ruby Rain launched a massive array of destructive power at the Washington.
Dima flicked the switch that would allow him to speak to the entire crew, and announced, "All hands, prepare for collision. Repeat, collision imminent." He looked at his helm officer, who was glancing back at him and said, "You know what to do. Protect the Washington." The man nodded and returned to his control panel, his hands flying across it.
The engine thrummed even more forcefully, sending a vibration throughout the ship as the Beijing pushed its way in between the attackers and the defenseless Washington. He arrived in time to absorb the barrage of the Ruby Rain. The Beijing's shields weakened under the onslaught.
"Pivot and fire port broadside at the rammer," Dima yelled over the hubbub on the bridge. The ship pirouetted, and the weapons launched when it was less than five lengths away. They impacted on its bow, covering the leading edge in incandescence, and then the ramming ship lived up to its name.
The Beijing seemed to flex as the heavily armored nose struck him midship. Dima imagined he could feel the ship buckle from the impact. The status display on the main screen showed shades of yellow and red where compartments had been crushed and opened to vacuum.
He was shouting the next order when the enemy exploded.
Gouts of flame and debris shot out in all directions as the vessel burst, a significant portion channeled directly into the inner workings of the Beijing.
"Damage throughout the ship, Captain. Interior bulkheads have engaged to limit the spread of the fire."
"All crew to independent oxygen," Dima replied. He trusted his tactical officer to follow the appropriate procedure for fire control without further instruction. He busied himself strapping on his own air feed from the canisters in his chair and watched as the bridge personnel did the same. Reports continued to flow over the Beijing's communication network, detailing a significant loss of life and an unprecedented level of damage to the structure of his ship.
Over the all-ship announce, the tactical officer said, "Thirty seconds to vacuum. All crew must be on independent air." Dima nodded. They couldn’t risk the entire ship for the sake of anyone that couldn’t make it to their oxygen supply in time.
At the appointed time, small orifices opened at strategic locations throughout the Beijing, and the internal atmosphere was sucked free by the vacuum of space. The flames died in a matter of moments, bereft of their fuel, and the openings resealed. Soon he would be re-pressurized, but the crew would stay on bottled air until the crisis was over.
During this time, Dima continued to defend the Beijing and the Washington from Xroeshyn attacks. "Incoming," announced the tactical officer. "Our undamaged bow shields are facing the enemy."
"Very good. Launch whatever we have at the barbarian wench."
"Communication from the Washington, Captain." He waved to accept it.
"Dima, thank you for the save," Cross said.
"It’s what allies do for one another, is it not, Commander?"
A grim chuckle echoed over the connection. "It is indeed. Though it seems like I owe you one or two at this point."
"Fate willing, Cross, the war will end before you have the chance to make good on that debt."
"Thus far, Captain, fate doesn’t seem to be on our side."
Dima gave a grunt of agreement. "True enough. But one never knows when the tables will turn."
Their conversation was cut off by the voice of Admiral James Okoye across the shared battle net. "Captain First Rank Petryaev, your ship and those of your squadron have taken a beating. You’re ordered by our joint command to depart while you’re still able."
"Affirmative, Admiral. Is there anything we can provide on our way out?"
"Cover for the Washington as she makes it back to our lines, for the time that she is close to you anyway. Stay clear of the station. We're about to put our fallback plan into play."
The line dropped, and Dima's eyes widened. No such plan had been shared with him, but his mind leapt to the most likely conclusion. He was distracted from consideration of the plan by his tactical officer's warning. He looked up at the screen to find that the Ruby Rain, accompanied by seven other enemy ships, had gathered together
in a cluster and were racing toward the Beijing and the Washington.
The Washington moved away, and a message from Cross appeared on his personal display with an apology for abandoning them. Dima shook his head. Such a strange mix of bravado and regret in the young commander. "Orders for our squadron. Change course to tunnel departure point Alpha."
He watched as the enemies adjusted their course to block the Beijing and his brothers, now in position to protect him. Then everything paused before advancing in slow-motion, as the starbase self-destructed.
The nearest casualty was the floating fortress, which had been mercilessly hammering the base. Union engineers had apparently been up to some clever tricks, as the main destructive force of the station's explosion was directed squarely at the enemy's most potent weapon. Flame and radiation shrouded the fortress, hiding the impact of the debris. It dissipated to reveal fissures across the massive sphere allowing gases to escape in multiple locations and small fires to erupt from the broken sections. The huge vessel immediately attempted to disengage and retreat, only to encounter several waves of human vessels already starting their attack runs.
Enemy ships flocked to the defense of the fortress and engaged those attacking it, but the eight after the Beijing continued on undaunted.
"Change course to tunnel point Beta," Dima ordered, and the Beijing swung on to a new heading. Long-ago surveys of the system had revealed that many sectors had a secondary, and decidedly less safe, balance point from which a tunnel could be extended. He headed toward one of those, knowing that escape was his only option for survival. The enemy ships were close enough now that their weapons were striking the remainder of Dima's squadron, which was strategically placed around the Beijing to protect him from further damage.
"The enemy ships have figured out where we're going, Captain. Half are moving to block."
Dima muttered a curse. While he should be able to fight his way out, once he committed to a path, the aliens would have the advantage.
The comm unit crackled. "Go for your first destination, Beijing," said Okoye. "Distraction inbound."
