“Another warship?” asked Snyder.
“Stealth missiles?” I shot back with concern stiffening in my chair. They could be dragging all kinds of exploding weaponry that might not otherwise survive to reach us during normal….
“Laser fire off the port bow! Someone is firing on the rear end of the enemy Battleship formation,” reported Tactical.
This report was born out as several of the rear defense chain guns and lasers on the opposing Battleship opened fire to their rear.
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be making our friends from the Glorious Fleet very happy,” Snyder said tightly, his eyes fixed on the action ahead.
“A small favor that we should aim to take maximum advantage of, First Officer,” I said gesturing to the screen.
When she started to turn back her brow wrinkling I scowled causing her to turn back to the bridge crew and start barking out orders. Clearly we were going to have to work on our teamwork and communication.
As Lieutenant Commander Snyder snapped out orders and the helmsman turned the ship, Tactical and Gunnery were shooting up a storm.
“We’ve identified the small contacts screened by the Battleships, Admiral!” exclaimed the Tactical Officer.
“What are they?” I demanded.
“They look like some kind of shuttle. Similar to an assault shuttle or lander design but its hard to tell exactly, through the fog,” reported Tactical.
“All ships concentrate on those assault shuttles!” I ordered, my eyes going wide with concern. “I want every laser that can be brought to bear!”
“We’ve got over half of those shuttles, Commodore!” reported the Phoenix’s Tactical Officer, “the last of the survivors have taken cover in between the Battleships.”
“Acknowledged,” Laurent said with a grim satisfaction.
“Sir do you want to turn and engage those troop transports, we caught a hint of them right before we tore into the shuttles,” asked the First Officer.
“We’ll last a good sight longer against the transports than we will those Battleships, Sir,” chimed in the Tactical.
“The troop transports also disappeared into the soup as soon as they realized their shuttles were under attack, while we know exactly what those Battleships are up to and where they are going right this moment,” Laurent said.
“You want to continue to engage them, Sir?” the First Officer asked after a pregnant pause.
“We have them in numbers if not weight of metal,” Laurent said confidently.
The First Officer’s brows rose with alarm. Clearly he was starting to think his captain had started to lose his mind.
“Besides,” Laurent continued grimly, “it’s not just the assault shuttles our ships up ahead will have to worry about. It’s the swarm of battle-suited figures following behind them as well.”
“We can’t confirm that those anomalous contacts are marines on grav-boards, Sir,” said the First Officer.
“Saint Murphy’s Law, XO. If it can go wrong it will and other than a swarm of rockets the worst thing those contacts could be are marines in power armor. It’s not like they’d be anything other than sitting ducks on their troop transports waiting for one good broadside to finish them off,” said the Commodore.
“Aye aye, Sir,” the First Officer said resigned to their mission, “we may just be Destroyers and cruisers but we can take those Battleships.”
“Forget the Battleships, have the rest of our forces focus on the shuttles. As for the Phoenix…I think our plasma turrets will be perfect for getting furious on those power-armored Marines,” he replied.
“Give me a status update on the Marines,” Front Admiral Featherby ordered as the flagship took repeated hits to the prow, rocking the ship back and forth as the hull was penetrated by concentrated laser fire.
“Shuttle forces are down to 48 assault landers remaining of the original force of 102 taken from the troop transports for this operation and—” reported Fritters.
“Straight at them, Helm. I want you to put us right between the lead two Battleships. Both broadsides are to fire as soon as they range on a Spineward Battleship. Remember: take down their shields and let our Marines have their day,” interrupted Flag Captain Weathers as he continued to spit out orders.
Meanwhile lasers flashed from the murk behind into the swarm of Marine shuttles and army assault landers.
“We just lost another pair of shuttles, Front Admiral,” his Chief of Staff reported with a wince.
“Sweet Murphy wept,” swore the Front Admiral, “keep going; we’re going to close with the enemy even if it kills us and every Marine in the fleet.”
“That won’t happen, Sir,” Fritters assured his superior, “your strategy of using the jammers to close with the enemy and then attack them with Marines was inspired. It will surely close the gap in combat power between our force and theirs. Literally the only wrinkle is that they decided to throw their own jammers into the mix, throwing off our scans and degrading our sensors more than we projected.”
“I should have expected it. After all, the tactics we are using is merely a combination of tactics the local militia fleet has been using to good effect for the past several years. We’re just showing them how the professionals carry out a similar, proper, operation,” said the Front Admiral.
“As expected, of one of the finest military minds in the Confederation, sir,” Commodore Fritters said without a hint of anything except sincerity.
“If I was one of the finest minds I’d be more than a Front Admiral,” snorted Featherby, “and your loyalty does you well but I don’t need my ego stroked. Right now all that matters is the plan. Signal the Marines and inform them their part of this little operation will begin shortly”
“Roger, Sir,” said Fritter turning to the com-section.
“And tell the tail end ship the…” he paused to check, “Golden Bumblebee, to do something about those Spineward warships taking pot shots at our rear.”
The Furious Phoenix shuddered as the endmost Glorious Fleet Battleship turned just enough to bring their broadside to bear and blasted one of its escort Destroyers into space wreckage in a handful of seconds before turning back its original course.
“That was too close,” said the Commodore wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead, “however this is our chance. Push the Phoenix forward and let’s get a shot at those engines. If we can cripple her she’s all but done for and we’ll be able to sneak around her and get at those space Marines.”
“Aye, Sir,” said Helmsman flaring the engines. The Phoenix started to push forward her escorts following behind.
Then the Battleship which had just straightened out her course kept on going, maneuvering jets and thrusters suddenly flaring, until it presented the other broadside.
“Enemy’s starboard side is coming around, Sir!” cried the Tactical Officer.
“Hard to Port! Super charge the port shields,” roared Laurent, “Gunnery prepare to counter fi—”
He didn’t finish giving that last order before the enemy Battleship opened fire.
“Shields down to 40%, we have spotting. We have—” the Shield Operator’s report was cut short as a pair of turbo-lasers punched through the Furious Phoenix’s shields, lashing into her already scarred hull.
“Minor out-gassing on Deck 3,” reported Damage Control, “automatic blast doors have contained the damage; rerouting a damage control team to inspect the area for survivors.”
“Continue evasive maneuvers. Get us out of range,” ordered the Commodore.
“Gunnery, fire on targets of opportunity,” snapped Tactical speaking into his microphone.
Lasers raked the enemy Battleships to little effect, mostly splashing harmlessly off its shields, while plasma balls rocked out at a rapid pace as the Medium Cruiser picked up speed. Many of the plasma balls harmlessly splattered on the Battleship’s shield but several dozen rocketed past the enemy warship and into the empty region of space it was protecting—the very
same patch of cold space the enemy Marines were floating in.
“They’re coming right for us!” reported Sensors.
“They’re not going to hit us, they’ll pass along the side,” retorted the Helmsman hands and arm muscles tense as he maneuvered the oversized warship.
The Royal Rage was still mid-turn when the enemy Battleship passed between it and her sister ship. Both sides of the enemy Battleship erupted with laser fire and the Rage’s port side shields started to drop. Several attenuated laser strikes broke through the shielding scaring the nose armor on the front of the warship but succeeding in nothing more than cosmetic damage to the nose of the ship.
“The Big Kahuna reports shields down to 42% and stabilizing, no major damage at this time,” reported Lieutenant Commander Steiner, temporarily returning to her original duties as com-officer.
Then a second enemy Battleship followed suit passing the side of the Big Kahuna opposite one their lead ship had just raked.
“The Big Kahuna’s engines are under threat!” reported Tactical.
“Can we move to cover her?” I demanded.
“Too late!” reported the Helmsman who despite his own words had already activated the Royal Rage’s engines. As the Rage made a belated attempt to close the gap, the Glorious Fleet Battleship raked the hind-end of the now urgently maneuvering Big Kahuna.
Thrusters burned and main engines flared as the Big Kahuna twisted away from the enemy ship in a belated attempt to get away as the enemy Battleship followed up with aimed fire pounded straight into her backside.
“The Kahuna’s shields are falling...and her port engine is on fire!” reported Damage Control.
“Lieutenant Commander Snyder have gunnery render the Kahuna assistance,” I ordered turning back to stare at the fuzzy sensor screen trying to divine the Glorious fleet’s ultimate intent
“Tell Gunnery to drive them off her!” First Officer Snyder ordered sharply, causing Tactical to grab his microphone and speak urgently.
Lasers lashed out in reply but moments later my attention was pulled away from the Big Kahuna’s plight.
“I’m reading some kind of strange sensor conta…” the Sensor Officer trailed off before a new report came in and he turned sharply back to me. “Marines, Sir!” he exclaimed, “We’re picking up both assault shuttles and individuals on grav-boards.”
“How close?” I asked with alarm.
The other man didn’t even bother looking down at his data-slate or consulting with a subordinate. “They’re right on top of us, directly behind the enemy Battleships, Admiral,” he said urgently.
A rush of horror surged through me as I suddenly understood just how countless numbers of my enemies must have felt when I was the one turning the tables and launching a last ditch boarding operation intended to overturn the apple cart and shift a battle in my direction.
I immediately stood up. “Gunnery is to switch to point defense and all Lancers are to be ready to repel boarders,” I snapped.
There was a startled moment and then the bridge sprung to activity.
“And somebody notify the rest of the fleet. I want those Marines cleared out of my sky and off my holo-screen, Number One!” I continued rapid fire.
But even the fastest of orders could only do so much to mitigate the situation. Even as our Gunnery department switched targets and opened up with every weapon and laser that could be re-tasked to a point defense roll the enemy marines had already reached the Big Kahuna very damaged shield arrays.
Not more than a dozen laser bolts had been fired causing everything not on an immediate approach to scramble, taking evasive maneuvers.
“How are so many of them getting onto the Kahuna’s hull without being stopped?” asked a new officer from the Border Alliance asked with alarm, as half a dozen shuttles landed on the Kahuna’s hull and the majority of hundreds of power armored figures punched through her porous and now sparkling shields. It was sparkling because while more than three hundred marines got in, dozens more who attempted the maneuver only succeeded in being smashed flat or even vaporized when they missed their window and slammed into the Big Kahuna’s shields at high speed.
Desperately the Kahuna rolled trying to interpose a different section of shields and make an intercept solution that much harder by presenting a moving target. Meanwhile, close defense chain-guns and lasers of all shapes and sizes shot out in every direction without regard what might be on the other end as the Battleship’s gun deck tried desperately to fight off her attackers.
The success of her maneuver was evidenced by a rapid increase in small sparkling impact areas on her ever falling shields.
“It seems that if they can’t get in through a hole in the shields they’ll just open up more of them by way of suicide attack!” remarked the Assistant Tactical Officer right before the Big Kahuna fired turbo-lasers right into our shields.
“Someone get the Kahuna on the horn and ask them just what in all the sweet hells they think they’re doing firing turbo-lasers at Marines on grav-boards—they're succeeding only in hitting their own flagship! Then tell them to knock it the blazes off!” I barked at my Chief of Staff, who quickly turned to carry out my orders.
“On it, Admiral,” said Steiner.
“Tactical, tell Gunnery to clear our skies; we’ve got multiple bogies on close approach,” urged Lieutenant Commander Snyder snapping me out of my mono-focus on the fate of the Big Kahuna.
I opened my mouth to demand an approach and saw the first of the enemy shuttles explode in a flash of decompressing air and exploding power generators right next to us as our lasers found their targets. Another trio of shuttles soon joined their sister shuttle’s fate as the Rage’s expert gun crews coolly served their weapons on our enemies.
One lander seeing her fate, like that of everything else that got in close to the Royal Rage, was sealed, suddenly ejected her cargo of Marines out her back facing landing bay and went to 120% emergency thrust. And while her former cargo were still spinning around in the space and trying to orient themselves she took a hit right before she slammed into the Rage’s shields.
Hot on the heels of the doomed lander and assault shuttles were a swarm of space-faring Marines. Joined by the landers' contingent they rushed forward, like lemmings off the proverbial cliff, determined to follow their lander in and push through the shields.
Dozens of space born marines opened fire with their rifles and hand held weapons while aiming for the spot struck by the lander, hoping against hope to punch through, before they too stuck the shields turning into small red flares sparkles as they crumpled and died on impact.
However, where there’s a will, there’s a way and after repeated hits the shields started to spot and the first gravity-propelled Marine broke through our shields. He was then promptly turned into a bloody paste of meat and metal by our ship’s chain guns. But more soon followed and within less than a minute the first enemy Marine set down on the hull of the Royal Rage.
While the attempted boarding action was taking place, the rest of the Glorious Fleet battle squadron wasn’t sitting idle. Following on the heels of their sister ships they struck our line with punishing force. Like their companions in the front of the formation, their intent was not to win the battle outright but to once again knock down our shields, opening the way for their cold space Marines to land on our hulls.
It was a canny stratagem, I allowed, even if the odds of success seemed low because it forced us to split our attention between the Battleships and their boarding forces. Taken by just themselves I was confident we could stop the marines, the question was how the slug fest between Battleships would turn if the boarders sacrificed themselves in order to take out half or more of our broadside.
“General Wainwright reports his forces are stationed throughout the ship and ready to repel boarders at any time, Grand Admiral,” reported Damage Control.
“Inform the General that the enemy has landed on the hull and we are concerned for our lasers,” I said
stonily.
Damage Control passed along the message, nodded and turned back to me.
“The General says to tell you ‘affirmative,’ Sir,” replied Damage Control.
I nodded.
Realizing the real threat of the enemy Battleships did not necessarily reside in the warships themselves, but the force of Marines they were escorting, apparently threw some my fleet’s Battleship captains into confusion.
“Aegis Battleship Wall Breaker is breaking formation to defend itself. Hart’s Heart is issuing orders for them to the line and assume a new position but the Admiral in command of Wall Breaker is refusing to comply,” reported Steiner.
After that things degenerated as several of the non-MSP Battleships began to maneuver independently.
“Pinocchio is moving forward to engage the enemy,” reported Tactical as yet another of our Battleships decided to take matters into their own hands. Only in this case instead of moving to protect themselves or withdraw slightly from the battle, the Battleship from Old Sardinia XI lunged forward into the tail end of the swarm of Glorious Fleet Marines.
“Tell Captain Antonio ‘Tony’ Caldera to get back into formation,” I snapped.
Lisa Steiner relayed my orders and immediately started to argue with someone on the line.
“Captain Caldera stated that his Battleship will return to formation as soon as they’ve given the enemy a drive-by, and when I repeated your order to immediately return to formation he claimed the jamming was too severe and he couldn’t understand our transmissions, before cutting the channel, Admiral,” she reported.
I clenched a fist.
“Clearly we’re going to have to work on our formations and responsiveness to orders once we’ve liberated the Sector Capitol,” I bit out.
“The People’s Initiative is moving to support Pinocchio,” reported Tactical.
“I am unable to establish contact with People’s Initiative, there’s too much interference,” reported Steiner.
Admiral's Nemesis Part II Page 36
