The Gathering Storm

by Chris Hechtl

  “I'm breaking off and hanging back. Drive him to me,” Meia ordered.

  “Damn it, CAG, I want this kill! One more and I'll make ace!”

  “Yeah well, there will be others. Do I have to repeat the order?”

  “No, ma'am,” Baker replied, sighing in exasperation as he fired his guns above the enemy's port side to drive him to the starboard.

  Meia flicked her finger on her joystick to select a fire and forget missile. She made sure of its targeting and then rolled up and cut her engines as Baker and the enemy fighter banked to her left. She used her RCS to turn the nose of the fighter to continue the lock, listening as the lock-on tone beeped more and more urgently before it became a steady sound. She squeezed the trigger. “Fox one!” she said.

  The enemy fighter must have had a warning system installed. He instantly jinked and then dove in an attempt to put Baker's fighter between him and the incoming missile. It didn't work however, Baker had known the missile was coming and had cut his engine. Instead Baker kicked his fighter's RCS and walked fire to the enemy fighter as it tried to get out of range.

  The fighter kicked out chaff and flares, but the missile ignored them. It came in and hit the little ship's tail and both erupted in a fireball. “Scratch one,” Meia said triumphantly. “Team work,” she said. “Now, let's go get us another.”

  “Aye aye, ma'am.”

  She shook her head as she noted the surviving enemy fighters trying frantically to clear the battle space and get to the distant carriers. She had her A.I. run the numbers and then grimaced behind her mask. Each of the emergency fighters had a short-range. They'd already dropped their tanks and those that were running were trying to get to the carrier but most likely they were short. Was the enemy going to linger and thus keep their carriers in danger? She wasn't certain.

  :::{)(}:::

  Admiral White saw the long-distance fighter and carrier battle. He also saw the rail gun rounds and heard the report. He pursed his lips in a thin line as his jaw flexed. The lethal rounds were dangerous to small craft but would only damage shields of larger ships. If they were hit squarely, they could wear a shield down and do serious damage to a larger ship. He too ordered more sensors out in the direction of the enemy force to watch for such things. They wouldn't have long to react once they got the warning.

  He'd take whatever warning he could get.

  The good news was that although they'd lost a hell of a lot of fighters and bombers they'd taken the enemy cruisers and destroyers, one squadron of each, out completely. In the cold world of spreadsheets and numbers, it was an effective trade in their favor. Those lost on his side had been out massed by a hundred to one by the enemy's losses. He didn't even want to think about the personnel losses.

  :::{)(}:::

  “It's winding down now,” Trajan said, voice only slightly hoarse from talking for so long.

  “I know. We lost a lot more than I'd like,” Junior said gruffly.

  Trajan looked at his image and nodded. Most likely his flag captain had known a lot of the pilots out there. He had probably trained his fair share of them.

  “Their bombers have been beaten off and their fighters are in full retreat. Commander Bleakly is recalling all of our forces to rearm. Should we let the carrier strike go? They have been in a holding orbit,” Junior reminded him.

  “What does the commander say?” Trajan asked, stopping himself from okaying the order. Technically as senior CAG, the operation of the wing was Bleakly's responsibility.

  “He is okay with it,” the captain replied.

  “Good. Order them in. That will keep the pressure on the enemy.”

  “Yes, sir. If we can, time it right they'll get caught recovering their remaining fighters and be put in a pickle,” Junior growled.

  “Agreed. But, given how ruthless they've shown themselves to be, my money is on them abandoning their own people to save the carriers,” Trajan stated. Junior stared at him and then nodded slowly.

  :::{)(}:::

  Admiral De Gaulte grimaced when he noted the numbers coming in. Of the 432 fighters that had embarked with Antuan, he was getting back a parse forty-one. Most of those were surviving proper fighters. Six of them were reportedly pretty banged up.

  And he now had a lot of emergency fighters with no pilots since a near mutiny was underway on the carriers. It seemed the remaining pilots were refusing to board their craft now that they knew the odds. Hopefully, the captains would make a few examples to restore order soon. He needed every damn fighter though.

  He was getting barely three ships back from the strike on the carrier. None of them had gotten within striking range of the damn ships. He shook his head at that. And coming in behind them were the enemy bombers and fighters.

  As he watched, the last of the fighters made it on board Nimitz just as her engines lit. “Finally,” he muttered as he turned to the image of Captain Loupin. “All ships head out. Make for the gas giant. Plan Delta 1 is in effect.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Delta 1. Navigation will take a moment to make adjustments … ah, already done. I take it Lieutenant Herod's doing. Good. Navigation has passed the course to the helm. We're getting underway now, sir.”

  “Good,” the admiral replied. Just in time, the enemy's bombers would be in range in less than ten minutes. “Order the interceptors to move to engage the bombers. Tell the carriers to kick it into afterburner.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Three of the destroyers have resupplied, sir. Should we fire on the incoming bombers?” Berney asked.

  “Work with Jeremy. Find out where they will be when we maneuver and fire to that point,” the admiral ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “The carriers will be in the fleet defensive zone in four minutes,” Sedrick reported.

  “It is going to be close,” Myron muttered.

  “Order the screen to engage once the enemy is in range,” the admiral ordered. “Don't wait on my order.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Status on the raiders?”

  “There was a brief furball in the inner system and I do mean brief,” Berney reported. “All fighters there are reportedly destroyed. We've lost several platforms.”

  “But the yard and planet?”

  “They didn't hit either of them.”

  “Ah. And Smoke and Mirrors?”

  “They ignored them.”

  “So, our ruse didn't work. Order Captain Abernly to shut them down.”

  “Yes, sir. I'm surprised they didn't take out the yard though.”

  “That's because they want the real estate. They intend to stay. This isn't a raid,” the admiral growled. “What about their ships?”

  “They've made orbit and are taking out some of the satellites. Our communication with the ground is getting spotty. The last report was that they were being ordered to surrender.”

  “Tell the captain to hold out and do his best.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  :::{)(}:::

  Rail gun rounds thundered out in a concentrated volley from the emergency fighters as well as the destroyers that had been resupplied. Knowing what to expect now, the incoming Federation bomber and fighter wing avoided them.

  They didn't expect the enemy to push their HKs and other small craft out to the screen however. Some of the Hunter Killers had been modified for the anti-fighter role. Hedgehogs of lasers erupted in the direction of the incoming enemy ships. A few fired spreads of fighter missiles or unguided rockets.

  The use of the HK, corvettes, and frigates in conjunction with the interceptor fighters to create a defensive layer pushed the bombers safe zone further and further back and cut down on their loiter time in the battle space.

  When they breached the inner layer of corvettes and frigates, they found that the small starships had also been modified as anti-fighter platforms. They had fast-track point defense lasers and rail guns as well as their missile pods. They also spewed out chaff, blunderbusts, flares, and fig
hter missiles. Before they could get into engagement range of the capital ships, the bombers found themselves driven off. The recall order went out and reluctantly they turned away and back to their mother ships.

  :::{)(}:::

  The incoming spread of rail gun rounds was picked up by the AWACs ahead of Second Fleet's TF2.1 and TF 2.2. Admiral White ordered an immediate course change to avoid the lethal cloud. He realized that De Gaulte was pushing him away and onto a different vector. He had Aleck choose one that was ahead of the enemy's projected line of march back to the gas giant.

  “Sir, we're not getting anywhere with the inner star system. Should we order Tocci to do more or …?” Ch'v'tt asked.

  “Order her to return to us. No, scratch that,” the Neochimp admiral corrected himself. “Order her to make for the fleet train and pick off any of the enemy raiders there.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “The bombers were forced to break off, sir. The enemy put up a hell of a defense,” Kyle reported, shaking his head.

  “How bad?”

  “Seven and two crippled. Six more bombers damaged but they say they can make it the rest of the way home. We also lost four more fighters, though they report they took out nineteen of the enemy.”

  “Understood.”

  “The screen was the killer, sir. The small ships have all been refitted as defensive platforms against bombers and fighters exclusively, sir,” Kelly reported. “I'm getting the information download now. We're also hearing reports that they are moving to their fleet train to rearm even as we speak.”

  “Obviously they shot themselves dry. It'll be fun to replenish while underway,” Kyle mused.

  “Hopefully, they'll have problems,” Garfield muttered.

  :::{)(}:::

  Captain Tocci glared balefully at the distant repair yard and then turned her head to the planet. “Next time,” she muttered as she issued orders to move out.

  She understood the admiral's reasoning; there was no point destroying any real estate they could occupy and use themselves. But she had her doubts about the repair yard. Most likely it was junk. If she was the enemy, she would have sabotaged it. She shook her head and reminded herself it wasn't her call as she focused on her next objective.

  :::{)(}:::

  Trajan scowled as he read the report from the bombers. He couldn't blame them from shying away from the enemy screen. They'd lost seven bombers to the screen and two ships had been crippled. Not one ship had gotten past them and the fighters to drive their torpedoes home.

  In order to get there, they were going to have to attrition the enemy's defenses some more. So be it. That would have to be up to Commander Bleakly and the other CAGs.

  A check of his munitions after reading a note from the quartermaster made him grimace. The problem with separating their fleet train from the fleet was coming home to roost soon. They were running low on fighter missiles and countermeasures. In keeping the fleet train safe at the outer edge of the star system, they'd cut the carriers off from their support. Fighter fuel reserves were already down to a bit more than half. Call it 60 percent, he thought. No, 59 percent he corrected himself when the number came in.

  “Not good,” he said, looking on to the furball that had erupted around their retreating bombers. Apparently, the enemy's more modern fighters had decided to try to press home their advantage and target the bombers.

  He frowned and then set the thought aside as he pulled up an email. He typed fast, a missive to Amadeus and then hit sent. The tachyon system would send it in a moment. They were too far out for a proper exchange.

  :::{)(}:::

  Amadeus got the missive from Trajan and nodded. Munitions were indeed a problem; they didn't exactly grow out of the vacuum either. It took time, energy, and materials to make the munitions. One couldn't rely on a replicator to churn out enough munitions to keep up with a battle of course. That was why he'd come in with a healthy stockpile on his munitions ships. But, the fighters were shooting themselves dry pretty fast.

  He needed to act, to get them moving soon. “Order the fleet train to move in to resupply the carriers,” he ordered.

  “Sir, the enemy sent a raiding force to engage them,” Ch'v'tt warned.

  “Tell them to avoid them,” the admiral said testily. “Wait, what's the vectors?” he asked, looking at the plot.

  Leopold put up the estimated courses of each group. The Neochimp swore as Aleck refined it only slightly. In order to get to the carriers, the fleet train had to pass within engagement range of the enemy raiders.

  “That's his plan,” he murmured, catching on.

  “Sir?” the Veraxin asked carefully.

  “I did his work for him. I did it before so he based it on past behavior. I wanted to keep the fleet train tucked out of the way so they wouldn't slow us down. But, we're shooting ourselves dry. Now we need those supplies, and he's put a damn force in between us and them. Again, a flippin' cherry ensign mistake, ensuring my supply,” the Neochimp said, cursing himself softly for the oversight.

  “But we know now, sir. Should we have them take a roundabout course to get to the carriers? One well clear of the enemy?”

  “Yes. No, wait,” the admiral said. “Order Captain Tocci to make best speed for the fleet train. Aleck, plot a course so the enemy will be led to her. Let's see if they want to play chicken and how badly,” the admiral replied mirthlessly.

  :::{)(}:::

  Captain Tocci received the orders from the tachyon receiver and immediately ordered the course change as well as recon drones to be dispatched in the general direction of the enemy raiders. She wanted to know in depth what she was up against.

  “All right you bastards, go on, let's see how badly you want it,” she murmured.

  :::{)(}:::

  Captain Cris P. Critter, Brawler's ship captain, saw the enemy force coming his way and cursed. “Well, so much for the plan,” he snarled.

  “Sir, we can't face that,” his XO said woodenly, “not and survive.”

  “We're not going to. Comm, raise the flagship.”

  “Ready to record, sir,” the tech reported.

  The captain sat up straight and squared his shoulders. “Admiral, we are seeing overwhelming force coming our way. We can't fight them and achieve our objectives. Consequently, I am disengaging and avoiding action. I will shape a course to meet up with you at a point of your choosing. Message ends,” he said.

  The tech listened for a moment and then nodded. “Good copy, sir.”

  “Then send it,” he said. He turned to the navigator. “Plot a course to avoid that force. We need to get the hell out of here,” he growled.

  “Amen,” the XO muttered in relief.

  :::{)(}:::

  “They are braking off, Captain,” the XO said before CIC could issue the report.

  “Can we change course to engage them?” Captain Tocci asked.

  “We're working on it,” her navigator said. “It'll be tight, but it's doable.”

  “Then do it. Keep on them. We'll chase them across the star system or to hell and back if we have to,” she growled.

  :::{)(}:::

  Admiral De Gaulte heard the report from Brawler and grimaced in annoyance. So, that ploy had failed. He had one last card to play. He had intended to draw the enemy fighters in to tear them up in the minefield but it wouldn't work. The same tactics he had used to hit their fighters from afar could clear his false minefield easily enough.

  Which meant he had no choice but to retreat. Activating the decoys he'd left in orbit of the gas giant was not an option either.

  “Order the carrier platform to launch her wing now. They are to launch fully loaded and recover on Nimitz and the other carriers. That should help replenish their losses,” the admiral ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir,” Berney replied.

  “After that, I'm afraid we're going to have to pull out Jeremy. Plot a course to the Garth jump point and keep it up-to-date.”

  The staff astrogator wasn
't the only one to look at him. Slowly Jeremy nodded. “Aye aye, sir,” he said, shoulders slumping slightly.

  “Berney, sound the general recall.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” the chief of staff replied quietly.

  :::{)(}:::

  Meia recovered her fighter on her carrier but didn't bother to get out to stretch her legs. Instead she let the canopy rise and then unbuckled and stood in her seat. From that vantage point, she could see the work around her fighter. The air boss was off on her left issuing orders to a group of plane captains. She nodded to him. He started on his way over to her but then got intercepted.

  She grimaced and touched her temple. She was tired and had a headache. She'd eaten an energy bar and had taken a water bottle from a tech. It was deliciously cold and fortified with minerals and vitamins. Perhaps a little too much, but the cold hid a lot of the metallic taste. At that point, she just didn't care; it was cold.

  “We need to do something about those damn fighters. How are we for missiles? They have no ECM so they are just turkeys for missile engagements,” she said, touching her temple implant to key her implant communications to the other CAGS.

  “We're in an engagement now,” Bill Paxton said. “They have short legs and suck. I wouldn't want to be in one of those things,” he said.

  “We're getting reports of some engine restart failures in the enemy forces. I don't know if they are playing dead or are dead,” another CAG whose voice she didn't recognize reported.

  “What did you expect? The damn things are cobbled together out of shuttle and fighter parts and held together by spit, riggers tape, and hope,” Bleakly growled. “Get in there … get … gotcha!” he said. “You've got to be dead unlucky to lose to one.”

  “The rail gun ones suck,” another CAG said. “Can we do something about them?”

  “No, they don't stick around. They fire before we get into range, then run for the carriers under the cover of the other fighters,” Bill stated.

  “Then we'll just have to work our way down the list until we get to them,” Meia growled as she downed her drink. She whistled, getting the attention of the plane techs around her. She hefted the bottle, then made a tossing motion. A Neodog tech nodded and raised his hands in a classic catch position; she tossed the bottle to him then climbed into her seat, not even bothering to see if he caught the thing.