“They're at just over eight hundred, Admiral.”
“What are our losses so far?”
“We lost almost all of Misato's formation. The crabs caught him out of position, and he got trapped trying to steady up for a jump. Most of his drones retreated to the second fleet with Admiral Brand.”
“Did his flagship make it out?”?
“It's adrift. No word on survivors so far.
“Very well. Put me through to Captain Kri.”
Kri's long face appeared on the main plot a few seconds later. “Admiral, what can I do for you?” The image shook, and Kri said, “Get a damage control team on that. Redeploy our drones to cover our weakened flank!” He glanced around his bridge for a few seconds before returning his attention to Stokes. “Sorry, sir, we're right at the tip of the sword here.”
“Mister Kri, I want you to break off and pursue Miss Simmons. She commandeered the science corvette and has vanished through a jump ring.”
“Are you sure, sir? I mean, the crabs are making a run at Lashmere.”
“I'm going to deploy Behemoth to cover Lashmere. We'll harass the crabs as they approach the planet. We've inflicted such heavy losses that we're at near parity. We still have a few surprises up our sleeves.”
“Aye, sir. I'm breaking formation now. I'll be in touch.”
The screen switched back to the tactical display. Stokes watched as the icon for Damocles vanished. The crabs re-massed into a single formation and began driving towards Lashmere. “Miss Woodard, signal to Behemoth.”
Commodore Erickson's face appeared on the screen a moment later. “Yes, sir?” Her soprano voice was strained, and her hair was straggled across her features.
“How are you fairing, Commodore?”
“Well enough, sir. We've just spent the last three days snatching five million people out of their homes and bundled them into thirty-eight cubic meters of space each. None of them are particularly happy. What can I do for you, sir?”
“I want you to make a tactical jump to Lashmere orbit. Block the crab approach.”
“Aye, sir. I'll be ready to reposition in three minutes.”
“Very well. Stokes out.”
The Victorious joined up with the remaining ships from Misato's command, and they started harassing the spinward flank of the crabs. The exchanges of fire were brutal, and ships fell out of formation on both sides. Stokes watched patiently as the Behemoth slowly moved into position to make its jump. The ring formed and Behemoth started moving through it. Bendel said, “Sir, there's no exit ring near Lashmere.”
“What?”
“Look, sir. Behemoth is entering a jump ring just like it's supposed to but there's no corresponding jump ring near Lashmere. At this range, we should be able to view both points of the jump.” Bendel gestured at his tactical plot.
“Emergency message to Commodore Erickson. Abort jump!”
“It's too late, sir. The ring is already closing. Where could they have gone?”
“There's no time to consider it, now. Put me through to the other six battleships. We'll assume Behemoth's position and take local control of all the orbital drone platforms. The remaining ships are to form under their individual cruiser commands and continue to chase the crabs in.” Stokes waited patiently for a few seconds as the point to point drive started coming online. He turned to Bendel and said, “We just became the anvil, commander. I hope we're up to it.”
“Sir?”
“Look at the formation, Commander. The crabs have formed into a broad, wedge shaped formation designed to protect their heaviest ships from attack as they bored in to strike Lashmere itself. The cruiser groups are dodging in and out, taking out their support ships as fast as they can, but there isn't time to completely whittle down their numbers. They simply have too many ships. With the added firepower of the battleships, we could probably have stopped them short of Lashmere, but now, we can't let them hit Lashmere directly. We have to break off and provide the last line of defense for everyone still on the planet.”
“Maybe the Behemoth will come back, sir. It could just have been a poorly calculated jump.”
“Perhaps, but we can't base our strategy on maybe. We have to defend Lashmere.”
“I understand, sir.” He looked at the jump timer and said, “Jumping in thirty seconds, sir.”
“Very well. You may jump as calculated.”
“Jump as calculated, aye, sir. Helm, jump as calculated.”
The helm acknowledged and slid the jump lever smoothly into the interlock socket. The plot updated and showed all six battleships in formation over Lashmere.
“Good piloting, everyone. Well done,” Stokes picked up a mike for the general announcing circuit. “We have thirty minutes before the crabs enter weapons range. Make emergency repairs and get ready for close action. All Marines are to don combat armor and retrieve small arms for possible boarders. This is all going to be over in the next hour, everyone. Keep doing what you've been doing so far, and we will win the day. For Lashmere and the future of humanity. Stokes out.” He put the mike down and turned to see everyone on the bridge smiling back at him. He nodded briskly and turned his attention back to the main plot.
Of twenty-two assault cruisers and their flotillas of destroyers that had been sniping the crabs on their approach when the battleships had jumped, only fifteen remained battle ready by the time the crabs entered weapons range. There were still over five hundred crab ships. The numbers weren't good.
“Combat launch all drones from the platforms and our internal launch bays, Mister Lokin,” Stokes ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Lokin responded. His words still came out unnaturally fast. His fingers darted across the console, assigning offensive and defensive roles to the various groups the Victorious had taken control of.
“Sir,” Bendel said, “A formation of crabs has broken off and is moving towards the space dock.
“Order the remaining support ships to depart the area immediately.”
“Aye, sir.”
A small group of icons flashed out of existence a moment later.
“Have Chimera's and Drake's formations make tactical jumps to deal with that group of crabs that broke off of the main group,” Stokes said. “When they're done, they can move in behind us and provide close support for the battleships.” Two cruiser groups was overkill for the small group of crabs that had been intent on destroying the space dock. The orbital installation had been evacuated before the crabs had arrived, but the structure still represented millions of hours of construction effort, and if a large piece broke free and re-entered the atmosphere of Lashmere, it could cause widespread devastation.
Lokin said, “The crabs stopped moving toward the space dock and have begun bombarding the surface. Both cruiser groups are moving to intercept.”
“Very well. Interlock fields of fire with the other battleships and begin targeting the lead crab ships.”
“Aye, sir,” Lokin said. “Sir, crab formation is changing. They've split into two groups and are maneuvering outside our weapons range. Both forces are preparing to attack the surface.”
“No! Break formation. Move the battleships up to defend the areas of the planet under attack.”
“Sir, if we move in the way you suggest, we will surely be destroyed,” Bendel said.
“There's no help for it, Commander. We can't let millions of civilians die while we safely strafe along the rear of the crab formation. Now give me flank speed to put us between the crabs and Lashmere.” When Bendel hesitated, he said, “Now, mister, or I'll find an officer who obeys orders.”
Bendel gave himself a shake and then said, “Aye, sir. Helm, orbit Lashmere in formation with Grendel, Hydra, and Tiamat. Thor, Freya and Gandhi are to maintain position between Lashmere and the other crab force.”
The ships began to maneuver when the crabs reversed themselves again, hammering the cruiser formations supporting the three battleships led by Thor. Suddenly left with no other targets, the remai
ning one hundred seventy ships sped inwards on the three battleships with a reckless speed. The crab ships moved into a tight formation with heavily interlocked fields of fire, virtually guaranteeing the destruction of all three battleships. A series of massive explosions rippled through the crab formation, taking out everything larger than an escort.
“What just happened, Miss Woodard?”
“It looks like the remaining ships were mined, sir. Stealth corvettes are breaking from inside the remaining formation.”
“Well done, Mister Patho,” Stokes said. “Bring the drones from Thor's battleships around and send them on ramming runs against the crabs coming down on us. I'm not concerned about preserving the drones for future operations. We need to take out the rest of the crab ships as fast as possible.”
“Aye, sir. Transmitting orders, now,” Lokin said.
The Victorious began to shake under the relentless assault the crabs were hurling at it. Over two hundred ships broke against the three battleships. Hydra exploded, taking several surrounding crab cruisers with it.
Thor, Freya, and Gandhi were completing their orbit to provide relief from the withering fire, but it would take another four minutes before they could bring their considerable weapons to bear. The remaining eleven cruiser groups were all damaged, some of them with only a pair of destroyers left to provide covering fire.
“Miss Woodard, have the remaining cruiser groups combine into a single defensive formation. Too many have lost their destroyer escorts.”
“Aye, sir. Sending the signal now, sir.”
The cruisers grouped, and their defensive fire intensified. The remaining hundred or so crab ships included two battleships, a contingent of cruisers and over seventy escorts. As suddenly as they'd come, the ships reversed their course and began to withdraw.
As soon as the ships reversed their course, Stokes felt himself slump into his command chair.
“Shall we pursue, Admiral?” Bendel asked.
“No. Take up defensive formation with the remaining ships and start organizing search and rescue. Link up with the long range sensor network and verify the crab maneuvers as they depart. If they depart. Once the crabs have cleared twenty light minutes from Lashmere, signal the support rings to jump back in and start providing relief to all damaged ships.”
The crabs took nearly a day to leave the system. They set a course that took them away from both Lashmere and Xalcek. At no point did the crabs ever make an attempt to communicate with the humans. Search ships were sent out to try to find the Behemoth, but no sign of the ship could be found. She was eventually declared missing and presumed lost. Of the two hundred thirty-seven ships the Lashmere Navy started out with, only twenty-nine were still combat worthy at the end of the battle. Human casualties were, thankfully, light. Nearly seventy percent of the crews of the disabled or destroyed ships were able to make it into escape pods and be picked up after the battle.
Stokes was summoned to headquarters the morning of the second day. He took a shuttle to the surface and was met by Admiral Coffee personally at the landing pad.
Stokes exited the shuttle and stood to attention, giving Coffee a parade ground salute. Coffee returned the military courtesy and said, “Admiral, if you would please follow me.”
Stokes said, “Of course, sir.” He followed the admiral, not towards the command bunker, but across the plaza towards the academy. Curiosity warred with strict obedience as he followed the admiral in silence.
Coffee walked to the side door of the academy presentation hall and opened the door for Stokes himself. Stokes gave the senior admiral a confused look before stepping through the door. As he did, he heard President Mitchell's voice say, “All hands, stand at attention.”
Stokes turned back and saw Coffee standing directly behind him. Coffee made a shooing gesture to get Stokes to mount the short flight of stairs and approach the small group of politicians.
President Mitchell was there, along with Vice President Owens and the Counselor of War. A number of planetary senators were also present. Stokes was mystified as he approached the group and gave the president another of his sharpest salutes.
“Please be seated, everyone,” Mitchell said. It was only at that moment that Stokes saw the hall was filled far beyond capacity, Patho, and his bridge crew were all seated in the first row. “Admiral Stokes, you have been summoned here, before this prestigious assemblage to be awarded the Crimson Star. The Crimson Star is only awarded posthumously. This award is not for you, Admiral Stokes, but for those who died under your command, saving the lives of twenty million citizens of Lashmere. Will you accept the honorable duty of remembering the dead each time you wear your uniform, Admiral?” Mitchell looked at him with an expectant light in his eyes.
In Stokes' experience, the Crimson Star had only been awarded once before in the manner it was being awarded here today. The man who had worn it previously had been Admiral Drogue. “I accept the honor of remembering the dead, Mister President. I will carry the honor of their sacrifice each time I wear my uniform.”
The president reached into a red wooden box and pulled out a long crimson ribbon. At the bottom of which, a blood red star hung. It was nearly unadorned. The plainness of the award was part of its dignity. The ribbon was solemnly hung about Stokes' neck. As Stokes straightened, the president spoke again. “In reverence for those who have fallen, this star stands in place of the blood they have shed, that their memory might never be forgotten.” The ritualized words fell across the hall where the only other sound was the quiet breathing of nearly a thousand officers and enlisted. “We will now observe a silence of two minutes in honor of those who have given their lives to preserve our freedoms.”
The silence elapsed, and Mitchell nodded to Coffee. The large admiral stepped to the podium. “Thank you all for your solemn manner. In the two days since the crabs were sent from our sovereign territory, we have begun to rebuild our fleet and our core of officers and enlisted. Over the coming months, I expect this effort to consume our lives. The Navy has taken on a new mandate. After discussion with the other admirals, we have decided to mount an expedition to find Earth. The Terran Empire knew more than we do about the alliance, which still remains far stronger than we are at this moment. The journey will take more than three years. In that time, we hope to build a series of impregnable defenses to protect Lashmere.
“We also plan to begin the construction of colonies in several nearby planetary systems. Most of you are aware that the alliance is responsible for the near annihilation of the human race. For those of you just finding out, I apologize for the abruptness of the revelation. We cannot allow the alliance to destroy humanity in a single stroke. They have demonstrated the ability to send massive payloads over vast distances. Although we have not yet discovered how, we will not give them a single target to attack.
“Our answers will come from the planet of our origin. Earth was the center of the Terran Empire. There, we will find out what we need to know about the alliance and their super weapon.”
Stokes listened as a rippling of applause slowly built into a crushing crescendo of cheering, shouts and cries of defiance against the alliance. He knew, somehow, humans would win the day.
A Faded Star Page 31
