“Relaying your message now, Admiral,” replied Steiner.
Part of me hoped the Harmony Squadrons continued their attack run, even though doing so was going to hurt us. At least then there wouldn’t be room for them to dance around, as much of their advantage in speed and maneuverability would be nullified.
“Smart play, Admiral,” Lauren said with an enigmatic look.
“That’s why I’m in the big chair,” I replied shortly.
“The Cruisers are arcing around towards our position!” Tactical said excitedly.
“We’ll have them now,” Laurent said with a nod.
“I wish,” I said, and for a few moments the Harmony Destroyers and their Cruiser Flagship continued towards us—looking like they aimed to prove me wrong—and then they abruptly turned, shooting off at a forty five degree angle directly away from the MSP and the Grand Fleet.
“Blast!” Laurent cursed.
I grunted, still looking at the temporarily-retreating Harmony hunter killer squadrons. I wondered if I’d made the right choice. Since I had let them get away, someone else was going to have to deal with them—someone who might not be as fortunate or with as many ships as I had.
Then I pushed it aside, I’d made the right call: preserving my fleet from a head to head meeting against an enemy with the advantage.
“Turn the ship and prepare to give those boats a pounding,” I ordered, still wondering about those droid Destroyers. Maybe if I hadn’t split the fleet…
“We’ll get them for you, Admiral,” DuPont said, and for a moment I stared off into space instead of putting my attention where it needed to be.
Angrily I looked back up at the screen, where Gunnery was proceeding to wipe the gunboats facing us off the face of the star map. The closer the droids got, the faster they died, until all 100 were bashed, broken and destroyed. Our gunners were, by now, quite skilled at targeting the slow, unshielded gunboats which the Conformity Tribe seemed to prefer. They should have been, after Aqua Nova, but even at Aqua Nova we hadn’t faced numbers like this.
Seeing the Gunboats facing us gone and the Harmony Squadrons still showing us their heels, I turned back to the Helm.
“Bring the helm back around…ten degrees toward the Grand Fleet and forward at 75 percent power, Mr. DuPont. Let’s see if we can’t pick off a few more of those boats,” I said.
“Ten degrees toward at 75%, aye aye, Admiral!” exclaimed the Helmsman, baring his teeth as he turned the ship over.
I wanted to smile back, but by now over a thousand Conformity gunboats had been destroyed by the thundering fury of the eight Battleships of the Grand Fleet. But while a thousand were gone, thousands more now swarmed around them, firing their small, pinprick light lasers for all they were worth into the shields of the mighty human titans.
In and of themselves, even four thousand pinpricks spread out over eight battleships wouldn’t be enough to bring them down—but hard on the heels of the boats were the real threat. Sixty Conformity Cruisers—each armed with six anti-matter powered, forward-facing spinal lasers—were moments away from entering attack range.
This is going to be for all the marbles, I decided as the Battleships’ turbo-lasers lashed out in one simultaneous broadside, slashing through the shields and hull armor of the first ten Conformity Motherships. Two enemy ships fell out of formation in the opening moments of the exchange.
I knew that, either the Grand Fleet held on this maneuver, or we were about to be in a world of hurt with the way the Harmony Fleet was snapping around the edges like a pack of hungry wolves eager to take the weak, the sickly and the lame. They were picking off our smaller escorts and converted merchant freighters, all the while maneuvering around to the rear of the Grand Fleet as if to hit our engines or cut us off.
I suppressed a shiver of foreboding.
If Manning can break the Conformity here and now—or at least blunt their mechanical fury—we could turn and deal with Harmony at our leisure, I thought pensively. But if he fails to stop them cold…
My face hardened; I didn’t want to finish that thought, because we were going to win.
The Battleships rolled and another volley lashed out from the lines, causing two Motherships to explode and another to fall out of formation. That brought the tally of still-functioning enemy Motherships in the front line down to five, and several of those were damaged. With only two volleys, the Grand Fleet had destroyed half of the Conformity ships facing them.
However, those five were doing their best to shield as many of the vessels which came after them.
Another roll was executed, and one of the Motherships exploded so powerfully that it improbably destroyed the two nearest of its companions. Of the other two remaining Motherships in the front line, one was so riddled with turbo-laser fire that it had lost power, and the other’s back was broken from internal explosions.
The entire first row consisting of ten Conformity Motherships had just been destroyed before the rest of their main force had even reached a range to be able to fire back…but all that was about to change.
Even while focusing their turbo-lasers at the Motherships, the rest of the various Battleships’ shorter-ranged weaponry had been firing for all it was worth, along with every lighter unit that could meet the range, on the swarm of gunboats. By now, of the more than five thousand gunboats launched at the edge of the star system, the Conformity Droids had fewer than half remaining, with more being wiped off the board seemingly with each passing second.
Then, as the Battleships were rolling to present their new broadside of fresh turbo-lasers at the Conformity Motherships, the droids finally entered the attack range of their forward facing spinal lasers.
Sixty lines of white, antimatter-powered, annihilation shot from the first ten Motherships to enter range. Shields flared as thirty nine spinal lasers, spread over eight targets, found their mark. Shields flashed and, of the thirty nine successful hits, four penetrated the shields. Of those four, three of them harmlessly gouged out great divots in the thick armor of the human Battleships. But the fourth and final shot dug deep into the hull of the Battleship commanded by the fat and jovial Commodore.
“Firing turbo-lasers into the swarm,” Tactical said in the background, “plasma cannons are dealing with damage stragglers moving away from the main body.”
“It looks like the Battleships are adjusting their shields to compensate for the attack,” reported our Sensor Officer.
The next row of Motherships entered attack range, and once again shields flared from forty two direct hits. This time, with six shield penetrations, only one of which dug through the thick battleship armor and once again it was the jovial Commodore—who’d been gossiping about me back during our original meeting—whose Battleship took the damage.
With thunderous fury, the Battleships finished their roll and, this time, it wasn’t only turbo-lasers that fired at the Motherships; the heavy lasers were now also in range. This meant that the heavy lasers couldn’t be used against the boats, but the superior threat was clearly the Motherships.
Four more Motherships exploded or lost power, riddled with shots from this single volley.
“New Orders from the Grand Fleet: all warships are to advance until they are within range of the Droid Motherships so they can lend their weight of fire to the Battleships,” relayed Lieutenant Steiner.
“Sir!” The Sensor Warrant said urgently. “A number of gunboats have entered into range of Harmony Destroyers before they could halt their momentum and turn around to go back toward the Battleships.”
“So?” demanded Laurent.
“Sir…the Droids aren’t firing on each other,” the Warrant said with the air of a man who was relaying vital news. But as far as I was concerned, the knowledge that the Droids had made some sort of common cause—if only for the duration of the battle—to destroy us was no longer relevant. We were where we were, and no amount of complaining or finger-pointing was going to help.
“The Chief Gun
ner recommends we roll the ship,” reported Eastwood.
“Make it so, Mr. DuPont,” I ordered.
“Shall I advance on the Droid Fleet at full speed, Admiral?” the Helmsman prompted.
Looking up, I saw that we were still advancing toward the main battle at 75% of maximum power. I frowned.
“Reduce speed to 25% and adjust our course so we are running parallel to the main body,” I ordered.
DuPont blinked, opened his mouth and then nodded. “On it, sir,” he replied.
“Those are not our orders,” my Flag Captain said, appearing at my elbow as if out of thin air.
“Those are not exactly our orders,” I corrected, “however, we will eventually come within range of the enemy fleet if we continue on this course.” I had no intention of sacrificing my ships in a head-to-head match with those Motherships unless it was absolutely necessary and, so far, I hadn’t seen that. If I did then I would reconsider, but until then the MSP as it was currently aligned—or, at least, that part I was in command of—was made for hit-and-run attacks, not standing on the wall with Battleships.
More Motherships were destroyed, and more antimatter-fueled lasers penetrated Battleships shields, gouging hulls and reaching into the guts of even more of the human-built citadels of military might.
Then the remaining Motherships unleashed another cloud of gunboats. “I’m reading more than one thousand additional gunboats have joined the attack!” cried Tactical.
“Battleships’ shields are showing severe spotting,” cried a Sensor Operator.
“Yes!” roared Eastwood right after another Mothership blew up on screen. “Gunnery just pounded that toaster into scrap. Scratch one Mothership, courtesy of the Furious Phoenix!”
“All remaining gunboats have begun a suicide attack run,” shouted Tactical.
“Sweet Murphy,” Laurent breathed.
Shields flared and gunboats exploded, but for every boat that annihilated itself on a Battleship’s shields, two more slipped through holes in a Battleship defenses.
I found myself braced for impact; my time spent as a Battleship commander making me feel as if I were right there with the Grand Admiral and his eight stalwart warships.
But nothing happened. Not an explosion, not a gouge in the armor from a crashing boat, nothing.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
The Tactical Officer dropped his slate onto the floor and turned to me, his face turning white.
“Admiral, those boats weren’t trying to ram. They were trying to land,” he said with heavy emphasis.
I blinked twice and then swore, “Murphy and his Imps! They’re trying to board.”
“Yes sir,” Tactical said before bending down to retrieve his slate.
“How many boats made it through?” I demanded, right before several of the more damaged boats made another attack run.
This time, the Battleships were wise to the danger and a storm of point defense fire lashed out. But while the majority of the remaining boats—gunboats that hadn’t landed yet from the original swarm—were destroyed, the ones that made it through in time weren’t looking to land. Suddenly, a series of explosions rocked the Battleships.
“Those last droid gunboats were targeting engines, Admiral. I’m seeing major damage to the primary engine housings on six of the eight Battleships,” reported the Sensor Officer.
Another pair of volleys criss-crossed from the MDL to the Conformity Fleet, with accompanying counter-fire from the Motherships to the Battleships. The cold space between the two forces erupted with the heat and fury of fusion and antimatter-powered lasers.
More Motherships fell but this time, with their shields weakened to almost nothing spinal laser fire didn’t just gouge hulls, several lasers ripped through the hull of the jovial Commodore’s ship. Several of the beams even burst forth from the opposite side of the warship.
“The Practical Effect has just lost power and is now drifting,” reported Tactical in the voice of one who has just reported the demise of the first human Battleship.
The swarm of gunboats which had been only recently released from their Motherships now reached the MDL Battleships. Despite withering fire from the remaining Battleships, these gunboats made a concerted boarding attack run.
I watched as far too many of the enemy craft successfully navigated the laser fire aimed their way, and those gunboats penetrating through the almost non-existent shields of the still functional ships. As they went in, they were also firing on the engines of the Battleships.
As if a switch had been flipped, the Motherships adjusted course and were no longer aiming at the Battleships. For a second I was actually grateful.
“Enemy Motherships are now targeting MDL Cruisers!” cried the Sensor Officer.
“They’ve never switched targets before, at least not until their original target was destroyed,” Laurent protested, as if by stating how the Droids usually operated he could force them to return to their old patterns.
“It seems these Droids can learn new tricks,” I said furiously.
Again and again, the Phoenix fired on the Motherships which had turned in our direction and, while they could, the Battleships added what fire they could. But with most of their engines down, they were trying to move the massive weight of their Battleships with only maneuvering thrusters.
“The Dark Abyss reports heavy boarding parties have penetrated the hull and are in their crew spaces and, under order of Admiral Preceptor, are maneuvering for advantage,” Steiner reported moments before the Dark Abyss broke formation. Another Battleship broke formation, moving in the same general direction as the Dark Abyss.
“The Jiāozhàn is also declaring its need to maneuver away from any additional boarding parties,” reported Steiner.
“What boarding parties?” First Officer Eastwood demanded. “All the gunboats are either dead or cluttering their hulls already.
“Sir, the Independent Warships from the smaller powers are reporting that they are being overwhelmed by the Harmony hunter-killer squadrons and are desperate for help,” Steiner reported.
Almost half the Motherships were still functional, with twenty nine of them maneuvering outside the firing arcs of the Battleships as they hunted for targets of opportunity like the smaller warships of the Grand Fleet.
“The Grand Admiral is ordering every Grand Fleet Squadron with a Cruiser to make its way to the Battleship Squadrons to render assistance until primary engine repairs can be made,” the Lieutenant at Comm. reported.
“What do we do, Admiral?” Laurent requested urgently.
“Warships not belonging to the Core World fleets are breaking formation,” reported the Sensor Warrant.
“Where are they going?” I demanded harshly, temporarily ignoring Laurent’s quite reasonable need for direction.
“Best guess from their current courses is that they’re falling back to Elysium,” Navigator Shepherd said after a momentary pause.
“A number of squadrons belonging to the Core Worlds are rallying; they’re making a push toward the beleaguered Battleships!” shouted Tactical.
For a moment I started to feel a rising tide, and felt myself lean forward to give the orders to join the push toward the Battleships.
“Mr. DuPont, prepare to join the Core Worlders we’re going to join the Battle—” I said just as the ship lurched violently around us.
“Shields down to 35% and fluctuating!” shouted Ensign Longbottom.
“What just happened?” demanded Laurent.
“We’ve been targeted by three Droid Motherships, Captain,” reported Tactical.
“Minor damage reported to the starboard hull,” reported Damage Control.
“Evasive maneuvers; adjust shields and roll the ship,” I ordered quickly.
“Sir, we can’t stay here like this,” Laurent urged, “we need to join the ring of forces around the Battleships, or pull away and increase our distance.”
“All MSP units are to fire upon the droid M
otherships,” I ordered, “relay that, Comm.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Steiner said quickly.
“Fire!” shouted Eastwood.
“Admiral,” urged Laurent.
“Energy spike detected, sir. Enemy Motherships are preparing to fire!” cried the Sensor Officer.
“Two squadrons of Harmony Destroyers have locked onto our position and moving to intercept,” reported Tactical.
My eyes darted around the screen and I realized that there were no good options. As I watched an entire squadron of ships that had joined the battleships was gutted by enemy fire. While the roving cruiser squadron that had been opposing the Harmony Squadrons looked like it was on its last legs, with two of its ships down and the remainder heavily damaged.
We couldn’t retreat to Elysium and join the Indies because the bulk of the Harmony warships were between us, and those at the center could not hold under the weight of fire they were taking. Sure, we could sacrifice ourselves for a few more minutes of life for the beleaguered Battleships, but even if we did there were no guarantees that doing so would mean anything.
And we certainly couldn’t stay here, with Motherships on one side and Harmony Destroyers on the other.
“Admiral, please!” Laurent said in a rising voice.
Everything was falling to pieces and those warships that were cut off from the retreat to Elysium—those which weren’t running toward the meager safety of the Battleships’ lost squadron formation—began to scatter.
We can’t stay put, we can’t join the Battleships, and we can’t join the majority of the forces at Elysium, I thought with ice cold certainty. That leaves only one option. “Helmsman, set a course for the Forge at best speed,” I ordered. I felt sick to my stomach leaving like this, while the Battleships’ engines were down and they were being boarded while the rest of the Fleet was being pounded to scrap but, every way I looked at it, this was our best play.
“Are you sure, Admiral?” Laurent asked, a hint of relief in his voice.
“We have to join up with the Power and fall back on the defenses around the Forge. It’s our only hope for victory now,” I said feeling numb.
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