A Faded Star

by Michael Freeport

  “Excellent summary, captain,” Drogue said. “Our next stop is M673. The system has a large facility on the surface the alliance believes is being used as an intelligence gathering point and sensor control station. If they are correct, destroying it will cripple the crab's ability to anticipate alliance movements. There is a picket force of three destroyers and ten escorts in this system. It is the largest force we anticipate contending with during these raids.”

  Hanlon said, “Does anyone have any questions at this time?”

  One of the destroyer captains said, “Sir, this is Captain Erickson of the Saber. Three destroyers and ten escorts is roughly equivalent to our force. Do we anticipate a way of dividing them into more manageable pieces?”

  “If possible, we will do so. Alliance intelligence indicates the force is usually broken into three areas with one destroyer and three or four escorts each, patrolling the system. With luck, we'll be able to intercept one of these patrols while the other two link up to defend the installation.”

  Erickson said, “Another question, sir. If this system is so important, why is it so lightly defended?”

  “The alliance doesn't attack, they only defend. In the entire time the crabs have been taking their territory, the alliance has never launched even a counter-attack, much less an offensive move of their own. This has made the crabs complacent. Are there any other questions?”

  There were none. Hanlon said, “Excellent. Our arrival is scheduled for the day after tomorrow at oh-three-thirty. Get some rest and make any repairs needed. Make sure your crews are well rested for action.”

  The screens winked off one by one until the Broadsword command crew was sitting alone in the room.

  Drogue said, “See to your duties, everyone. We'll be going to battle stations once we arrive at M673.”

  Hanlon oversaw drills and maintenance efforts over the next eighteen hours. The evening before the squadron arrived at M673, she turned in as early as she could to try to be well rested for the upcoming battle. That night, she had the dream again. This time, she stood, feeling the freezing winds whipping her hair around her head. When she finally looked up, the black dot was getting larger and larger. Something about it made her want to cry out in fear, but she couldn't speak in the dream.

  She bolted out of sleep, sweating and panting. Looking at her clock, she realized it was less than ten minutes before her alarm. Sighing, she tried to shake off the feeling the dream had left her with and got ready for the day.

  The five ships arrived well inside the system. As soon as they came out of FTL, Drogue ordered active scans of the system.

  “Mister Watkins, get me a location on the crab forces.”

  “Aye, sir. Scanning now.” An impatient two or three minutes had passed before Watkins said, “Sir, I can't locate any crab forces in the system at all. If there are any crabs here, they've powered their drives down and hidden pretty carefully.”

  “How many planetary blind spots do we have from this perspective?”

  “Two, sir. The first planet, here.” A plot of the M673 system appeared on the forward display with a highlighted point showing the location of the planet in question. “There is also the area behind the fifth planet, where the base is located. If the force is hiding there, we can't attack the installation without defeating them first. As soon as we stabilized in orbit, we'd be vulnerable.”

  “Agreed. We'll have to maneuver around the planet to clear the blind spot before hitting the installation. Helm plot a parabolic course around the fifth planet. Leave us plenty of speed to maneuver if we need to. We can swing back to the planet once we've gone around it.”

  “Aye, sir,” The helmsman said before beginning to calculate his course. A moment later, he said,” Course projected on the forward display, sir.”

  Drogue examined the course for a moment and then said, “Execute course, helm. Mister Watkins advise the squadron to stay in loose formation with us.”

  The squadron followed the course for the next thirty minutes, clearing the blind spot of the planet. Watkins said, “There's no one hiding behind the planet, Admiral. Looks like the system is abandoned.”

  “But why,” Hanlon asked.

  “Not sure,” Drogue said. Are you still getting power emissions from the intelligence station?”

  “Yes, we are, sir,” Watkins said.”

  “Good. Miss Kelper, bring all main guns online and prepare for planetary bombardment.”

  “Aye, sir. Main guns are ready for firing as soon as we're in position.”:

  Hanlon said, “Time to orbit over the target?”

  “Eleven minutes, sir,” the helmsman said. “I took the liberty of breaking and coming about when Mister Watkins confirmed there wasn't anyone hiding behind the planet.”

  “Good thinking,” Drogue said. You're Petty Officer Adler, right?”

  “Yes, sir. That's me.”

  “Very well. Mister Watkins, align tactical sensors and interlock firing data with the rest of the squadron. I want this thing destroyed as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, sir,” Watkins said. He worked on his console for a moment and then said, “Targeting sensors are interlocked. All fire control is ready for the bombardment.”

  The squadron aligned themselves into a tight formation and rotated to point the five main guns towards the surface of the planet.

  Watkins said, “Squadron is entering geosynchronous orbit over the installation.” He paused while the ships slowly moved into optimal firing position. “We're ready, sir. We can fire at your command.”

  Drogue said, “All ships, fire.”

  Five guns shrieked as one. The crab base, which covered less than a square kilometer, was severely damaged in the first volley.

  Kelper said, “Massive damage to the installation, sir. It should be non-operational now.”

  “Continue firing until there's nothing left but a crater,” Drogue said.

  Hanlon said, “What's the plan here, sir?”

  “We've yet to enter into an extended engagement with the weapons modifications we've made. Monitor power consumption per shot and heat buildup.”

  “Aye, sir,” Kelper said. The squadron continued firing for the next ten minutes. “Sir, weapons are still firing normally. There's nothing left of the base.”

  Drogue said, “Very well, Lieutenant. Cease fire.” Miss Hanlon, maneuver the squadron to our FTL transit point. We'll move on to L262 as scheduled. Signal the salvage ship there's nothing to pick up here.”

  Hanlon said, “Aye, sir.”

  The squadron spent the next four hours flying to a point in the system clear of any navigational hazards the ships couldn't handle. Five flickers of light marked their departure. As that light washed into the system, a single crab ship lifted off of the moon that orbited the fifth planet. A signal emitted from it, traveling far faster than the offensive squadron could fly.

  At the after action briefing the next morning, the only thing they couldn't figure out was why there were no crab ships in M673. No one had a solid theory, so they chose instead to move on. Arrival at L262 was shortly thereafter. Drogue initiated battle stations before they entered the system. Hanlon found herself pounding down the passageway with the rest of the off duty officers. Drogue hadn't given any warning to his intentions.

  As Hanlon walked onto the bridge, she said, “Is there a problem, Admiral?”

  “Not as such, captain. More of a sense of unease. The only explanation I can come up with as to why there were no crab ships in that system is that they knew we were coming. I would prefer to be at the ready as soon as we come out of FTL in this system.”

  “I understand, sir.” Hanlon consulted her console for a moment and then said, “All stations report manned and ready at battle stations, sir.”

  “Very well. Time to FTL transit point, Mister Watkins?”

  “Just over seven minutes, Admiral. The rest of the squadron reports they're at battle stations.

  “Very well. Maintain readiness unti
l we've completed an active scan of the area. If the system is as reported by alliance intelligence, we'll revert to our original plan. If things are not as previously reported, then we'll adapt accordingly.”

  Hanlon said, “Sir, if the crabs know we're coming, shouldn't we drop out of FTL sooner? Make it impossible to predict where we'll arrive in the system?”

  “It's a good idea, Captain, but if we come out too early, we'll just give them a lot of warning and allow them to concentrate any forces in the system against us. I've decided to come out of FTL late instead. It's a risky maneuver, but if they're expecting us to arrive on track and at a safe point, I'm going to push it a bit and surprise them.”

  Hanlon pondered the situation and couldn't come up with any suggestions that were better than what the admiral had already planned. She sat quietly in her chair and waited for the time to run out. As has happened in the past, before engagements, she'd had that dream again. She was standing on the mountain, looking up at a black dot that seemed to be coming towards her. It grew bigger and bigger. This time, it had approached so close she began to get some perspective on what it might be. Some kind of super massive shape was descending towards her. As before, she'd started out of her sleep sweating and anxious. Battle stations had been sounded just as she'd begun to drift off again. Her eyes tracked up the forward display, watching the countdown approach zero.

  Watkins said, “We're at the safe boundary, sir. Thirty seconds until your chosen arrival point.”

  “Very well, Mister Watkins. Prepare for FTL transit on my mark... mark.”

  The ship appeared in the system in a brilliant flash of light. Three flashes appeared in formation with the Broadsword.

  “Sir, Saber is out of position, their system did not accept the safety override. She is at the edge of the system,” Hanlon said.

  “Very well. Begin active scan. Let me know what we've flown in to.”

  Watkins worked on his console for a moment and then said, “Sir, I have a number of contacts. At least ten cruiser class, one battlecruiser class, Twenty plus destroyer class. Looks like an entire battle group.”

  “Put the location on the forward display, lieutenant.”

  The display came up, showing the tactical situation. As soon as Hanlon saw it, she knew there was virtually no chance they would get out alive. They were out gunned fifty to one, and there was no way to avoid engaging at least some of the ships while trying to escape. Hanlon pondered the situation and tried to keep her composure while she watched Drogue out of the corner of her eye.

  “Helm, make course zero-two-zero by zero-seven-five, ahead flank,” Drogue said. The course would put the squadron in a near vertical climb relative to the plane of the ecliptic. There was a relatively clear patch of space in that direction as well that might allow the FTL drive to engage.

  “Aye, sir.” Adler twisted the course knobs briskly and then rammed the engine order to flank. The answering chime sounded.

  “Sir, the rest of the squadron is in formation. We are getting a comm request from Saber. They want instructions.

  “Put Captain Erickson on the screen, Lieutenant.”

  Erickson's face appeared on the screen. Her brows were knitted together in worry. “Admiral, looks like the crabs were waiting for us. My tactical officer says we have a good chance of making a rendezvous point with you about twenty million kilometers along your current heading.”

  “That's a negative, Captain. I am ordering you to make for the alliance base. Signal the alliance salvage ship on your way out and let them know to retreat to their base as well. Our chances of escape are poor at best. We flew directly into a trap.”

  “Aye, sir. I will do as you order. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Survive, Captain. With luck, I'll see you again. Drogue out.”

  Erickson nodded, her face was set in a grim mask as she closed the comm channel.

  Drogue said, “Miss Kelper, set maximum defensive fire. Ramp power to the EM field generators. It looks like we're going to find out just how effective the hull armor modifications we've made will be.”

  “Aye, sir. Field generators are now at maximum.”

  “Put me through to the rest of the squadron.”

  “You're on, admiral.”

  Drogue nodded at Hanlon and said, “This is Admiral Drogue. We've found ourselves in a nasty situation. Our first task is to take out the five destroyers coming up on our starboard sides. As we enter firing range, we'll rotate along our current heading and bring the main guns to bear. Take slow, methodical shots. Make sure you have a clean kill before moving on. Five destroyers shouldn't be a match for us, but there is a formation of two battlecruisers and six destroyers that will likely catch us before we can get to a safe FTL point. If that happens, then this will be an interesting day. Attend your duties, focus on your jobs, and we can survive this day. Admiral Drogue out.”

  “Sir, we're coming into weapons range on the first group of destroyers. That battle group you mentioned is really pouring on the speed. They'll catch us well short of the FTL point,” Watkins said.

  “Very well. Fire at will, Miss Kelper.”

  “Aye, sir. Waiting for the helm to slew us around.” There was silence on the bridge for a few seconds as the big cruiser turned to face the oncoming destroyers. Inertia carried the ship along its path while the main gun was pointed at their enemy. Kelper said, “Firing now,” The gun shrieked out, and one of the destroyers blossomed into a massive ball of discharging energy and debris followed closely behind by two more.

  “Good shooting. Prepare for follow up shot,” Hanlon said.

  “Firing now.” Again the gun shrieked out, and the remaining destroyers were completely annihilated.

  “Rotate us back along our heading and begin accelerating again, helm,” Drogue said.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Watkins said, “Sir, I have a new signature. It looks like a battlecruiser has just started their engines. They were waiting, powered down near our heading. We're already inside their weapons range. They're firing.”

  Drogue said, “Brace for impact, people. Bring us around to bear on that battlecruiser. Synchronous fire from all squadron ships.”

  “Aye, sir,” Watkins said, tapping at his console with lightening quick fingers. “All ships report firing ready.

  The Broadsword reverberated when a heavy shot got through the defensive fire. A damage alarm began to warble.

  “Damage report,” Hanlon said.

  “Crew berthing and forward sensors. Fire control accuracy is degraded. Defensive fire unaffected,” Watkins said.”

  Kelper said, “All ships firing.”

  The battlecruiser instantly vanished into a globe of debris. The combined force all four ships could project was far more than any single point on the battlecruiser's heavily armored hull could take.

  “Sir, a message from the Rapier. She's taken damage to her engines. She can't keep up,” Watkins said.

  “Slow the squadron to match Rapier's best speed. Let her catch up.”

  Hanlon said, “If we do that, we'll be in range of the battle group behind us. They'll give us a real problem.”

  “We'll turn and fight. Bring the squadron about. Let them catch us. Concentrate all fire as before.” Drogue knew three battlecruisers were more than a match for his squadron, but they couldn't outrun them. The best chance to win was to turn and fight. “Concentrate fire as they enter weapons range, Miss Kelper.”

  “Aye, sir,” Kelper said. Her hands were shaking, and her skin was pale as she worked at her station. “Firing now, sir.” One of the battlecruisers spun out of formation, venting heavily. “One ship no longer combat effective, sir.”

  “Very well. Line up for the next shot.”

  Just as Drogue completed his order, the Poniard exploded. Return fire from the crab battlecruisers had broken through her hull armor and burrowed through to her forward reactor.

  Hanlon said, “Keep fighting, people.”

  Kelper
said, “Firing now, sir.”

  The shriek rang out once again, causing another battlecruiser to stagger and take heavy damage. Unlike the previous ship, it stayed up with the remaining undamaged ship. The Dirk was next to go. Savage fire from both battlecruisers ripped the forward end of the ship into a splintered, air leaking mass of wreckage. Escape pods began to stream out from the wrecked destroyer.

  “Comm the Rapier and have her finish off the damaged battlecruiser,” Drogue said. The response to his order was never head. A flight of torpedoes, launched in the litter of return fire went undetected. Broadsword took seven hits to her forward section. The bridge crew were all thrown from their chairs.

  “Damage report,” Drogue shouted into the cacophony of alarms and yelling people.

  Hanlon grabbed him and pointed to her console. “Sir, looks like the forward half of the ship is destroyed. The forward reactor is going to let go at any second.”

  Drogue nodded. A strange sense of calm settled over him. Signal the Rapier to run at best speed and to escape if possible. Abandon ship.” Drogue tapped the three key sequence that let the crew know they should get out of the Broadsword by the most expedient means possible. Drogue saw Hanlon kneeling over Watkins with a field med kit. She wound a bandage around his torso before she and the helmsman lifted him and dragged him into the starboard bridge escape tube. Drogue surveyed the launch of the remaining crew before stepping into the port tube. He was the last man to leave the ship alive.

  The escape pod launch was violent. Fueled by chemically fired rocket motors, the pod hurtled down a set of ceramic tracks designed to maximize separation between the escaping crew and their stricken ship. Drogue braced himself on the crash couch and waited till the pod stabilized itself. Gravity was suddenly gone, and he felt a sense of queasiness wash over him. He drifted to a port hole and looked at the Broadsword. The ship was massively damaged. The front half of the ship was either gone or battered into utter wreckage. The forward reactor went supercritical as he watched, but the damage wasn't very severe. It just blew out a lot of the already damaged sections in the forward part of the ship. The aft reactor must have gone into safe mode and shut itself down.