by Blaze Ward
He wondered if they would just flee and abandon their entire flight wing below. After all, in a complete worst case scenario, the fighters could all land safely on the planet below. If Aquitaine won today, they would be simply taken prisoner for a while and eventually traded home. If Fribourg conquered, they were safe until their transports returned.
Alber’ did the math in his head and wondered if it would be better to cripple both Carriers now or destroy one and let the other escape.
Somedays, Bösch seemed to be reading his mind. Or perhaps they were all part of one higher consciousness called Shivaji right now.
“Commander,” she said to get his attention from the screen. “Two halves or one whole?”
Alber’ let the thought stew for a moment.
Shivaji rocked herself as an Imperial Primary caught her soundly. Pretty good shooting for an Imperial Carrier. Perhaps someone else who had learned a useful lesson from Qui–Ping.
“Damage Europa,” he decided.
Dry–docking two Imperial Fleet Carriers for a year was almost as good as destroying them, after all, considering the nature of what the Fleet Centurion had set out to do.
“Gunner,” Bösch called quickly. “Cycle to Beta. Fire when ready.”
The Primaries were not as fast to fire as the Type–3 beams. Those lesser emplacements were simple beam emitters that just needed to be recharged from the generators and fired.
A Primary beam was itself a misnomer.
Centuries ago, some suicidal lunatic had intentionally overloaded a Type–3 beam emitter. He had destroyed the entire beam emplacement when he did so, but not before he bored a small hole into a nearby moon.
Afterwards, once they sifted the wreckage, the boffins had figured out how to replicate the weapon.
Now, you loaded an entire cartridge into the array and triggered a small implosion/explosion that powered a very short–lived generator. All the energy was routed through something like a Type–3 beam emitter, at least for the quarter–second that it survived, and then lased downrange in one destructive pulse.
Upside, tremendous range enhancement and greater damage.
Downside, Primary shells were like bullets, and had to be individually loaded, fired, ejected, and then reloaded.
At this range, only the Primaries even mattered, unless Shivaji opened up with the Type–4 beams in the turret, which were even bigger, heavier, and slower to fire. But those would be a lovely surprise later.
Hopefully.
Alber’ watched the battle below continue to unfold.
The vectors on the screen told him everything he needed to know about keeping the Type–4 beams in reserve. The Imperials weren’t about to slow down and slug it out with Auberon. At this speed, they would keep going, circle around, and come back for more.
That would give him time to get there for the next round.
Another round of Primary beams leapt from Shivaji’s bow, sniffing for Europa next.
The second Carrier had gotten enough warning to get her shields rearranged and reinforced. She had even begun to maneuver evasively.
Not that it would be enough as Alber’ closed.
His Goddess of War, Goddesses, stalked the field today.
Shivaji hammered Europa with five of six shots, two of which hit almost the exact same spot on the shields, from the way the second one fluoresced everything briefly and then burned metal and oxygen in a tremendous halo of destruction.
Even from here, he could see Europa stagger and begin to tumble.
At Qui–Ping, it had not been necessary for one, little, outgunned Aquitaine carrier to win, only to escape before being destroyed. The Imperial Captains apparently came to the same conclusion here.
Hokkaido vanished first, fading like fog as her JumpSails came on line and got her clear. Europa took longer. Alber’ was almost convinced he had damaged the carrier enough that he would get a second salvo in, when she jumped as well.
Three of the little escorts fled as well.
One, identifying itself as D–743, fired a pair of Type–2 beams at him before she disappeared last.
At this range, those weapons were about as effective as flashlights, but Alber’ had to give the man credit for pure audacity.
No one would ever accuse that Imperial Captain of shrinking from his duty.
Alber’ could respect that.
Bösch turned to him with a smile.
“Tactical, returning the bridge,” she smiled.
“Roger that,” he said. “Damage control parties are primary for the next fifteen minutes. “
He studied the battle plan the Fleet Centurion had been using, as well as the Imperial maneuvers in response. He picked out a spot on the map and sent it across the bridge.
“Navigation, plot us a course to get here.”
That should be where the Imperial Battleship would emerge.
Then, they would see what a Heavy Cruiser, Experimental could really do.
Chapter LXXIII
Imperial Founding: 174/07/19. BB Varga. Thuringwell Orbit
Saveliy Kozlov did not know doubt. It was not in his nature.
He did know rage.
Imperial Intelligence had provided very detailed notes about the forces protecting this planet. They had placed spies in the area, and interviewed captains who had been here as recently as a few weeks ago. Had provided the names and commanding officers of many of the warships today.
Nobody had mentioned a heavy cruiser.
It would not have just shown up here alone. No, it would have come with a small squadron. Every other ship was accounted for.
Ergo, it had always been here, and all of the spies had somehow missed it.
The original balance of forces had favored him, favored this attack. Even the additional forces Keller had brought in, all those fighters, did not change that.
An extra heavy cruiser would.
Keller had an edge now.
For the briefest moment, Saveliy considered the blow to his reputation were he to simply fly through the Aquitaine formation at full speed and retreat out the back. All the warships would be preserved. Nobody could do enough damage on a pass like this to cripple.
But he would lose two entire flights of fighter craft to go with all the damage Europa and Hokkaido had taken before they managed to flee to deep space. And he wasn’t even sure how well they would be able to repair things, until he spoke with those captains themselves.
He rolled the video feed back again and played it at high speed, even as the two armies of fighter craft closed and passed.
There were a few moments yet, before his wolfpack and the destroyers would begin to engage in earnest.
Just as before. Darkness, and then suddenly a new signal appeared where there should have been nothing. This cruiser, this Shivaji, to read the transponder name from the screen, could not have gotten to that position without being seen.
No, it had been waiting.
Lurking.
Invisible until just before it came into range, as the two Carriers were spending every effort to break through the electronic fog and noise generated by the Survey Cruiser, and not paying enough attention to their own surroundings.
Saveliy would have finished the one rather than risking both escaping with minimal damage. But that was his nature. Kill one foe, rather than wounding several who might later recover.
The second missile cruiser had been a lie. The sudden heavy cruiser had not.
Damn than woman.
Saveliy returned his attention to the main screen.
His warships were on a lower plane than the two waves of fighters, just merging. Her warline was roughly conforming to his.
Good enough. There was an opening he could exploit.
“Wolfpack to pivot starboard and engage the battlecruiser now,” he ordered sharply. “Support Novo Daysahn. Starboard escort, cross to center and protect Varga from the fighters and Auberon. Port wing, maintain current formation and proceed.”
&
nbsp; In his mind, Kozlov could see the risks involved in crossing his five frigates around each other so close to an enemy like Keller, but he needed the ferocity of his wolfpack to help the more–lightly–armed Flag Cruiser. Varga could add a little supporting fire as she went by, as weapons came out of targeting arc on Auberon. But he needed to smash that battlecruiser now, before Shivaji could rejoin the formation and provide something heavy enough that he risked defeat attacking.
Slowly, Cerberus, Yokohama, and Ayakashi, the Wolfpack frigates, turned, crossing bows on Bernardo Aki and Darbyshire, Europa’s normal escorts, as everyone slowed and came to new headings.
The three Aquitaine Destroyers on that flank had launched fighters at the start of the battle. That hull design, an Escort Carrier, usually sacrificed their own Primaries for more missile tubes, and generally more missiles, but mostly of a defensive nature. Less well armed than the three on the other flank.
Sure enough, the three erupted with a wall of missiles as his own ships closed, mostly focused on killing all of the Imperial missiles inbound, with just enough left over to keep his frigates and fighter craft honest.
Not much of an edge, but presumably enough for now.
But three extra Primary mounts on his frigates would weigh more heavily, since everything was already degraded by all the static in the air.
The two cruisers began to hammer on each other like angry titans.
They were, however, only a sidebar to the main action.
Ahead of him, Auberon was just about to come into reach. The battle would be decided here.
Or rather, this would be the beginning of her end. She might be able to flee fast enough to hide behind the defense of that heavy cruiser while he circled the planet. In that case, he needed to slap her hard enough now to get her attention.
“Varga,” Kozlov snarled loud enough that the right officers heard. “Pass Auberon on our port side. Concentrate all fire on her as you go. Any weapons no longer ranging may fire on the battlecruiser instead.”
This was where his legend would be born.
Chapter LXXIX
Date of the Republic July 19, 396 SC Auberon. Above Thuringwell
It was so subtle, so wrong, so risky that Jessica nearly missed it until it was too late.
The Imperial Admiral had done everything by the book up until now.
Textbook, if you liked classical music.
Jessica had grown up appreciating jazz.
First Lord Kasum had always taught that maneuver was what separated the merely proficient from the dangerously–exceptional commander. There was a science, after all, to the ordering of battle fleets.
But there was also an art.
Emmerich Wachturm was the acknowledged master of that art, by all sides.
The man over there had just made a mistake.
A subtle one.
She doubted he would even consider it one, even watching the logs back later.
The crossing maneuver was a very good gambit to bring the three frigates into Nyamboya’s flank. Jessica presumed they were the more veteran units, with the two racing to get to the center probably being escorts most of the time. Imperial Carrier task forces usually had four such frigates, so two on each attacking wing as escorts and three hunters in the middle.
Again, a perfectly acceptable formation and a reasonably successful maneuver.
But he had waited too long to spring his trap.
“Flight wing, this is Keller,” she called, cutting straight through to her pilots, rather than waiting the precious extra seconds for the commands to get filtered through. “Heavy Wing to fire everything you have left at the battleship, right now. Every offensive missile on every rail that can bear.”
The departing hunters might pick off a few. The closing escorts might as well.
There was still going to be a gap in Varga’s protection for too long, even if he went completely defensive right now and dove down and away from her and her fighters to gain space.
The man didn’t seem like that type of warrior.
“Nyamboya, this is Keller,” she continued.
Robbie Aeliaes was already on her command board. His face came live and filled a screen.
“Fleet Centurion,” he said tightly.
Nyamboya was about to be facing a lot of messiness. He already knew that from the look on his face.
“Robbie,” Jessica replied. “I don’t need you to win right now. Just hold. Get them past you while you remain intact. He’s coming back for a second round and I’ll need you and Alber’ when he does.”
“Roger that, Jessica,” he replied with a faint smile. “Bringing BrightOak in now?”
“Affirmative,” she said. “This is what you get for being promoted.”
“Nyamboya can take it far better,” he shrugged. “Counting on you to pull a rabbit out of your hat, again.”
“Stand by and watch, Robbie.”
She cut the line and turned to her Flag Centurion.
“Enej, bring BrightOak and Vigilant in close to engage the battleship when we do, with CR–264 providing covering fire everywhere,” she said. “Leave Rubicon on the flank protecting Ishfahan and order Ballard to move to that flank immediately. Both of them have permission to move as far off that flank as they need to, to get clear. Questions?”
“Negative,” Enej replied, turning to the staff around her and issuing orders.
In a way, it was like being on a bridge again, commanding, while the Tactical Officer handled the actual fighting. She gave orders, and let others execute them.
Hopefully, it would work.
Denis Jež appeared on her main screen right now, banded in red to get her attention and everyone else’s.
“All hands stand by,” he ordered sternly. “Enemy battleship closing to engagement range. Damage control parties to priority alert.”
Because all hell was about to break loose.
Chapter LXXX
Date of the Republic July 19, 396 Somewhere, Thuringwell
Just because it was a nice day was no reason for people to be shooting at him.
After all, Cayenne was already a mortally wounded duck waiting for the damned dog to come retrieve her. Gaucho smothered the profanities rattling around his head before they found his mouth and snuck out.
He and Takouhi had sidearms. Hell, Fourth Saxon had left a whole armory and gunsmithy in back if he wanted, assuming it hadn’t been blown to hell or tossed around and crunched in the slide into second base under a tag.
“Murph,” he called into the general comm as he stood up and put action to words. “Grab your go–bag and your gun and meet us in the primary airlock. We’re skeedadling.”
Takouhi gave him a look a lot like his ex–wife used to. Gaucho wondered if the two women had met or if it was a universal thing.
“What?” he said bluntly.
“Lot more armor around us inside, Gaucho,” she replied evenly.
“And a lot smaller target for people with more guns than brains if we’re outside. Not like Dash and Vo can’t find us down here.”
He grabbed a backpack from a wall locker and pulled a pistol as well, peeling a label–kind of thing from the back and sticking it to his thigh as he worked.
He turned to find her still standing there.
“Move it, woman,” he ordered. “Boogie–man’s coming.”
Outside, the air was hot and rank in the zenith sun.
That was probably the smoke still pouring out of Cayenne’s ass, even after he had shut everything down. Even wire insulation would burn if you did it right. Apparently, they had.
At least he had managed to mostly hit a clearing. Or carve one.
Hard to tell from the ground.
Lots of downed trees to hide behind. Hopefully, nobody would manage to blow the big, red beast completely up. He would miss that old thoroughbred.
Murph met them at the lock, strapping himself into an identical emergency field kit, although he had added a helmet of some sort. Looked
kinda like a construction type, except made from steel instead of rigid plastic. And painted purple.
Gaucho could not think of any army that used purple helmets, anywhere, anytime in the last couple of centuries. He also knew better than to ask with Murphy.
They found a nice little spot outside but nearby, where Gaucho had managed to shatter two trees in such a way that left a cozy, little gap they could all drop down into and be out of sight.
It had gotten quiet, except for he and Murph’s laboring breath. They were air crew, not ground pounders. Why did they need to be in shape to run a hundred meters with packs?
“Because you occasionally get your lazy ass shot down and have to take cover in the rain,” Takouhi replied.
Gaucho made a note to think quieter and with his mouth closed, next time.
Chapter LXXXI
Imperial Founding: 174/07/19. BB Varga. Thuringwell Orbit
Saveliy had never fought anything so big.
As an Admiral of the White, he had commanded Battleships like Varga before, and once, even engaged in the body of a Battleship Task Force during a raid on an Aquitaine Sector Base.
But never against a Star Controller.
Auberon was only the sixth ever built, a fact borne out by the SC–0006 on her bow, visible on scanners as they closed. Aquitaine was a museum now. Arcadia had been destroyed a generation ago in battle. Amaravathi was the Flag of their First Border Fleet. Archimedes commanded their First War Fleet. And Athena was the Flag of Aquitaine’s Home Fleet.
That left Auberon. Here. Now.
He felt like a shark swimming against a whale, as she was nearly twice his size, but with only the slightest edge in beam weapons. And shields that had to protect a much larger hull.
His missiles were worthless now. The Survey Cruiser was still jamming everything that moved, and she had retained the little escort corvette close in, but riding on her opposite bow. Not far enough away to avoid his weapons, but every shot he sent that way was a waste, and only the heavy guns ranged, while the escort could swat down every missile he fired.
