Kris Longknife - Admiral

by Mike Shepherd

  “Thank you, Nelly.”

  Kris eyed the board and the swirling battle it showed her.

  “What would I do if I was him?” she muttered to herself.

  No one made to answer. It was rather obvious. “I have to reach the jump. I have to fight off the ships he has headed for the jump. Only those rebel ships need to jump into the Imperial system to end this war. Therefore, he will use all his other ships to stop me, whether or not he can make the jump. Admiral Coth,” Kris said, decision made.

  “Yes, my Admiral,” he answered almost immediately.

  “I expect my opposite number to order his ships to cut their deceleration. He’s going to try to zip through my formation, destroying everything in range and then take a station in my rear where he can zap my reactors with impunity.”

  “I would do that if I were he,” Coth agreed.

  “With the exception of your rearguard, please reduce your deceleration immediately. As soon as you see his next move, match it immediately.”

  “Aye, aye, Your Royal Highness,” Coth said, likely assuming he was praising Kris and not realizing how much she didn’t care for that when she was in uniform.

  Oh, well.

  “Concerning your rearguard, Admiral Coth. Have them hold position. If the rebels point their ships at me, the rearguard should take station in his rear and rake his stern.

  “Oh, yes,” Coth said, looking like the sharped-tooth predator his species had been. “Yes. Aye, aye, Admiral,” he said and clicked off.

  Kris was not finished giving orders. “Comm, send to vanguard. Keep braking for the jump. Steer for the leading rebel ships heading for the jump. Deceleration 3.5 gees.”

  “Sent, ma’am.”

  “Now send to Battlecruiser Task Fleet 6. ‘Continue braking for the jump. Steer for the leading rebel ships headed for the jump. Deceleration now 4.0 gees’.”

  “Sent, ma’am.”

  “Kris,” Nelly said.

  “Yes.”

  “The rebels have cut all deceleration out of their power vector. They are racing towards us.”

  “All four wings of the rebel fleet?” Kris asked.

  “Yes, Kris.”

  Kris knew that her own wing’s power vectors were split, some to decelerate enough to make the jump, the rest to close with the enemy battlecruisers headed for the jump. “Nelly, show me how this is going to work out.”

  On screen, the dots that represented different flotillas changed into lines, showing where they would be if they continued on their present course. With the four wings of the rebel main body letting inertia hurl them toward the general area of the jump at unimpeded speeds, his entire force would stream past Kris’s vanguard. Even with her ships trying to get out of their way, the rebels would pass too damn close aboard.

  There was nothing Kris could do about it if she wanted to get the rebels headed for the Imperial system.

  Admiral Coth was clearly intent on doing something about this new development. His ships had already reduced their deceleration toward the jump. Their acceleration away from the pursuing rebel fleet had dropped so that they were only 220,000 klicks away from the main force. They had slipped off toward the jump so that the two forces were staggered with Coth’s fleet 40,000 klicks closer to the jump.

  The change in the rebel course was rapidly eating up that 40,000-klick advantage.

  Coth cut his deceleration toward the jump down to match the rebels. Then he flipped his ships and nudged them in to a mere 205,000 klicks from the enemy fleet. Even as he did this, the battle between the 24-inch battlecruisers in both fleets continued. Both sides were now picking a ship to murder and concentrating their fire on that poor warship and crew.

  The rebels had learned they needed to concentrate what was left of the big war wagons from at least half of a wing if they expected to get enough lasers in the space around a dancing loyalist ship. That ship would likely run into one or two lasers, suffer damage, and be doing less of a dance when the stern batteries were brought to bear on it. Some died. Others pulled out of the line to the unengaged side to mend ships. The worst hit fell off and fell through the enemy line.

  Despite the illegal battle taking place between the damaged cripples, the rebels continued to let Kris’s new cripples through without slaughtering them.

  Kris thanked that merciful God that seemed to be hovering nearby.

  The loyalists for their part, usually needed only a flotilla of surviving big battlecruisers to fill the space around an evading rebel battlecruiser. Often times, the first salvo would be enough to achieve burn-through and destroy or mangle a target. Then, the stern battery would be targeted on another ship.

  Kris’s own battlecruiser fleet kept up a steady fire on first the top, then the bottom, finally the center wings.

  The results of the rebel’s thousand 24-inch battlecruisers exchanging shots with Kris’s eight hundred plus ships was a disaster . . . for them. Eight to ten of Kris’s ships might be annihilated or fall out. Inevitably, half of them were the smaller, not yet engaged ships. For Kris’s part, her ships targeted only the big war wagons in the rebel fleet and each salvo they’d take out sixty-five to seventy of the rebel’s best ships.

  If this kept up, the rebels would soon have none left of their 24-inch battlecruisers with their long-range guns.

  After three salvos in just a minute and a quarter, Kris wondered how long the rebel commander would submit his ships to this slaughter.

  She had not long to wait.

  Admiral Donn watched as nearly a third of is big battlecruisers blew up or fell out of the line, either still under their own power or rolling, tumbling hulks. He’d had enough of this.

  The enemy had come within two hundred and five thousand klicks of his ships. It would take him less than two minutes to close that gap. Would the enemy run this time as well?

  “Staff officer number one. Order to all ships. Close with your opposite number at 4.0 gees.”

  “It will be done, M’Lord Admiral.”

  58

  Kris didn’t have to wait long for her answer. Her opposite number had had enough of four thousand or so of his ships sitting on the sidelines as his larger ships were annihilated. His surviving fleet swung their sterns around. On the screen, the vectors for the entire enemy fleet aimed at Coth’s four wings.

  It also had him closing a bit on her vanguard wing, but mainly, he wanted to get his four hands around some throats and the nearest available was Admiral Coth's.

  “Kris, while most of the hostile fleet is aimed at our main force, two flotillas from each of the four wings have dropped out of the main force. They’re still headed for us.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Kris said. “Are they a mixed bag?”

  “Most of the flotillas have only three or four 24-inch battlecruisers left of the twelve they started the fight with. All of the flotillas have twenty 22-inch warships that haven’t fought yet.”

  “So, we’ve got some hundred and fifty or so lighter battlecruisers and maybe twenty-five of the heavies headed our way.”

  “Yes, Kris.”

  “How soon before they get here?”

  “Not very long at all, assuming we keep braking and heading for the gate crashers.”

  “Good joke, Nelly. Advise the wing that if they need to cool their lasers, now is the time to do it. If they still have targets in the other three wings in range and their lasers aren’t too hot, coordinate your fire.”

  Nobody took the time to cool their lasers, but instead took the final large cruisers in the top, center, and bottom wings to task. By the time the full enemy fleet pulled their four thousand 22-inch cruisers into range, Coth’s four wings were waiting for them.

  The two forces exchanged one huge salvo, coming, and going. Kris had slightly less than fifteen hundred ships left. Thirty-seven hundred rebels now drew in range, but it was extreme range.

  Once again, the rebels concentrated their fire. Despite detaching ten flotillas, each wing had forty lef
t, four files of ten flotillas each. They reached out with murderous intent for the thirteen hundred ships in Admiral Coth’s fleet.

  Seven of the ships under Coth’s command vanished in expanding balls of gas. Eight more struggled out of the line and out of action

  The loyal admiral had watched over the last hour as his flotillas melted away from forty-five ships to an average of thirty-two. Now, he ordered each of those flotillas to take a rebel ship under fire. The result was very bad for the rebels, especially when Kris threw her flotilla behind Coth’s salvos.

  Thirty-five ships blew up. Another thirteen ships were left punctured and rolling in space. Twenty-nine more struggled out of the line and concentrated on saving the ship from its own destructive urges.

  Kris gritted her teeth as she watched that development. She’d slammed six of his ships for every one of hers he’d racked. Still, that was a horrible exchange rate.

  Admiral Donn grinned at the screen. If he hadn’t weighed four times his normal weight, he would have fist-bumped the air above him. As it was, he could barely make a fist without making his back scream.

  “Fifteen to forty-eight, M’Lord Admiral,” his number one staff officer shouted.

  “Yes, it is almost the three to one we need,” Donn agreed.

  Then the enemy put on a bit more acceleration and pulled out of range. The next salvo from them destroyed or did major damage to another thirty of his. Five of the loyalists blew up, another eight showed damage, but put on more than half a gee and pulled ahead of the enemy battle line.

  “Aim for the damaged ones,” Donn ordered.

  “But they are even more out of range.”

  “Concentrate your fire and get them.”

  Only when that was done, did he examine his own situation. Twelve ships were gone. Just gone. Another dozen were crippled and spinning out of control. Twenty-five or so were falling out of the battle line, but reporting that they would be back as soon as they could affect repairs. Dunn had ordered that such ships not be counted among his casualties.

  They would be back.

  The next salvo cut them even worse. His forces nailed five loyalist ships. One blew up, three pulled ahead of the battle line, and one was left tumbling in space, falling behind and into his mercy.

  Donn would have loved to order the destruction of the Imperial ship, but he held his tongue. In another hour, it might be his fleet that was begging for mercy.

  This was not going well. The enemy could dance out of his range with ease. He turned his gaze to the loyal vanguard that was bearing down on his Imperial throne winning ships.

  “Number one, aim the fleet at their vanguard. We can still wreck it.”

  “It will be so, M’Lord Admiral.”

  59

  Kris’s breath fled her in one huge sigh as she watched the trades made by the first salvo. She scowled and shook her head a fraction of an inch as Nelly reported the butcher’s bill.

  “Six to one,” Kris muttered. “Is Coth opening the range?”

  “Yes, Kris. They’ve jacked their vector to 3.5 gees directly away from the hostiles.”

  “Good.”

  Still, Kris watched the second set of salvos with concern. To say that lasers had an effective range was to pronounce an approximation. Lasers spread out as they traveled through space; the dust and odd atom or molecule sapped the beam and spread it out. The amount of heat they could deliver on target grew less and less as they ranged out from their source. At half their maximum range, a laser could burn through protection at a much faster rate. At maximum range, the burn-through was slower. It was still possible to do damage outside that distant figure, it just wasn’t nearly as much as the manufacturer promised.

  Now, Coth made use of a few extra klicks to save his ships. The concentration that his big battlecruisers were able to bring down on the rebel fleet was still brutal.

  Kris wondered how long the rebels would take it.

  She hadn’t long to wait.

  After the second salvo, the rebel admiral redirected his fleet away from Coth and right down Kris’s throat. The human admiral studied her board. Her course was set by the jump. Her deceleration allowed for some juggling, but she was already doing four gees; some of the vector slowed her for the jump. The rest aiming her at the rebel ships intent on murdering the Imperial capital city and most especially, the Imperial Palace.

  At the rate the main force was bearing down on her, they would slash through her weakened ranks an hour before she could come in range of the raiders.

  “Nelly, is there anything we can do to speed this up?”

  “If you want, we could try to work our task fleet up to 4.5 gees. I would recommend that we do it slowly. A lot of our reactors are already deep in the yellow zone.”

  “Show me data on our reactors,” Kris said.

  Nelly was right. On average, her ships were about halfway into the yellow. A few were less. Some were more.

  “Comm, send to fleet. Over the next ten minutes, I intend to take our deceleration up to 4.5 gees. We will adjust our course accordingly. The first detachment of rebel ships making for the jump is our target.”

  Kris waited for ten seconds, then twenty as ships rather slowly announced their willingness to put on a tenth more gee. Finally, all thirty of the human battlecruisers still in the fight showed ready to answer this new bell.

  “Comm, send to BatCruRonFlot 6. Go to 4.1 gees now.”

  Kris already weighed over six hundred pounds. It was kind of hard to notice the addition of another sixteen. By the time she was close to six hundred eighty pounds, no doubt she’d feel it.

  Admiral Donn watched as the two forces drew apart. Not by much, but enough to make swapping salvos a less than useful business.

  Unfortunately, the loyalists still had several hundred 24-inch battlecruisers. His force had been picked clean of the new ships. His ships jinked up or down, juggling their speed by a tenth of a gee faster or slower, trying to dodge the incoming salvo. It didn’t do much good.

  Every twenty or thirty seconds, another twenty of his ships would be left burning, exploding, or smashed.

  Unable to catch that larger force, Donn aimed his fleet at the enemy vanguard. Those he could destroy. By destroying them, he could win this civil war.

  No matter how many ships died here, if the raiders got through into the Imperial System and if the secret rebels in that system had done their job right, they would be the only force in the system. The fools would have to slit the throat of that weak spawn on the throne and give it up to a better warrior and administrator.

  He aimed for the vanguard and went for it.

  Admiral Coth must have been the one opposing him. Now he brought his fleet in close and blew away another fifty of Admiral Donn’s ships. His fleet shot back, but Coth had his ships dancing back out of range even before they could choose a target and fire.

  Still, four loyalist ships paid the price for this game.

  Admiral Coth went back to plunking away at long range with his bigger battlecruisers. First eighteen and then twenty-one rebel ships were raked and left dead or drifting.

  Then Admiral Coth ordered his fleet to veer in again, shot up another fifty ships or so, then jumped back. Five paid for this foray.

  Admiral Donn did the mental calculations. He would soon be in range of the enemy vanguard. He could echelon his flotillas to give them all a shot at those ships. Even as Coth plunked away at him, he could not destroy him.

  There would be enough of his ships left to destroy that vanguard.

  It would be a bloody mess, but they could still win this war.

  60

  Admiral Kris Longknife found herself trapped by the laws of physics and the absolutes of geography. Throw in an enemy fleet eager to burn her to a crisp, and it did not make for a good afternoon.

  She now had her human battlecruisers up to 4.4 gees. No one had risked this before. Nelly and her kids had been doing what they could to redesign the high gee stations to provide
extra support. They’d also gone over every strength member in the battlecruisers to thicken them up. It wouldn’t do for one of Kris’s battlecruisers to bend in the middle.

  All of the extra Smart MetalTM shunted to take care of the appalling weight of 4.4 gees meant less metal on the hull, less defensive depths. Another tradeoff that might kill Kris and the sailors following her.

  “Nelly, what’s it look like?”

  The screen in front of Kris showed five different forces. Off ahead of her were the ten rebel flotillas, spread out by their starting position. All making for the jump, decelerating as they went.

  Closest to Kris’s vanguard were twelve flotillas in four widely dispersed groups, aiming for Kris’s vanguard. They were weaker than Kris’s wing, but if they concentrated before they hit her and their smaller battlecruisers got in range, they could do serious damage.

  Then, there was the rest of Kris vanguard wing, aiming to intercept the force headed for the jump, and maybe even heading to go through the jump. If Kris destroyed all the rebel flotillas, the rebels lost. If she didn’t, they had a decent chance to smash their way into the next system. There might be forces there to stop them. Then again, the same struggle between rebels and loyalists that ripped this system apart could have slaughtered all the Navy in the Imperial System.

  The three forces heading for the jump or at each other were small forces. Twenty-two depleted rebel flotillas against ten loyal flotillas, albeit larger and with half their ships the big battlecruisers.

  The two other forces hurtling down on them were huge. The larger rebel force had around three thousand 22-inch battlecruisers left. They were outgunned because the loyalists still had hundreds of the bigger warships, but now the rebels had caught on. Now their ships bounced around with mad intent, forcing the seven hundred or so big battlecruisers to concentrate a dozen or more ships against a single target, and even then, it might take two salvos, one to wing it and the other to kill it.