Galactic Council Realm 3: On Guard

by J. Clifton Slater

  The burst went out as the Bridge crew listened to Wind Chime in Combat Control. She was adjusting the protective screen. If attacked, she’d flood the screen with additional attack ships. If not, she’d begin rotating ships from the screen back to the Ander El Aitor so the pilots could get a break. Right now she was issuing warnings to the flights of pilots.

  “Blue ions,” communications reported, “In our wake.”

  He automatically sent it to the main viewer while ES-1 and ES-2 were delegated to side viewers. If Haitham wanted a different viewer arrangement he could order it. Apparently, he didn’t as he nodded his approval to communications.

  “Combat Control, are you seeing this?” he asked, “Let me know as soon as you have a resolution.”

  One of the work stations in Combat Control was assigned to identifying enemy ships. They would monitor the blue ions and once the electronic clutter cleared, report the new ship’s specifications.

  “Admiral. How could these ships have found us?” Councilor Peng asked, “You said space was big. So big in fact, a collision was improbable. How could three ships arrive in this sector of space at this time?”

  “Mister Piran, please answer the Councilor,” Haitham said, “Unfortunately, I’m a little busy.”

  “The course we’re on was reported to Naval Movement Command,” I said, “So if they’re being controlled by the Tres Government, they could make our course known.”

  “Direction isn’t distance,” the old man challenged, “I understand how they knew our course, but how did they know we’d evolve here?”

  The hull rang and the answer was displayed on a side viewer screen. While the Councilor and I talked, Admiral Haitham had ordered a full power scan.

  “That line of sensors,” I replied pointing to a line of blinking lights on a small side screen, “The sensors were spread across space like a rope pulled across a road. Break the sensors and the enemy had an exact course. Break several lines and evolve to Internal drive near a line and they had your location.”

  “Excuse me Councilor,” I said turning from the old man and motioning until I had the Captain’s attention, “They already have a fourth ship in the vicinity.”

  “How’s that?” questioned Haitham.

  “They would need a ship already in this sector to lay those sensors,” I stated, “Nothing showed on the scan so I’m guessing it’s a standoff warship.”

  “Like the torpedo ship you encountered,” he asked.

  “Yes Captain, Wind Chime needs to know,” I said, “maybe one of her flights can identify its whereabouts.”

  He called Combat Control and had a private conversation with Wind Chime. After a few seconds, she called the Bridge.

  “Blue ion marked as Enemy Ship 3,” Wind Chime stated, “Unknown standoff vessel marked as Enemy Ship 4. Orders Captain?”

  “Combat Control, you are authorized to launch three Brick flights,” Haitham stated flatly, “Find ES-4 and engage it.”

  With that order, Admiral Haitham had released elements from the Ander El Aitor to go on offense. The Big Red monster had just opened it jaws and showed her teeth.

  “ES-3, unknown transport,” Combat Control reported, “Blue ion drives, enormous cargo area, no sign of defensive weapons.”

  “Thoughts, Mister Piran?” Haitham inquired.

  “It’s obvious she’s hauling something,” I replied, “Can’t be troops as it makes no sense for a troop transport to be present at a space battle. I’d guess, she’s a warship hauler.”

  “Combat Control, put four flights of Fighters on transport ES-3,” he ordered, “Let’s see what it does.”

  “Aye, Captain, four flights on the way,” Wind Chime replied.

  The view screens shifted. The two flanking ES-1 and ES-2 ships moved to lower screens. The transport, ES-3, appeared on the main screen. The sectors of space where BattlePlatforms searched for ES-4 popping up on side screens.

  I knew below in Combat Control the images, plus a lot more, easily fit on the wall of viewer screens. Here on the Bridge, they were quickly running out of viewers.

  “ES-1 and ES-2 are turning,” Combat Control reported, “They are increasing velocity on an intercept course with our Fighters.”

  “Well, that gets them off our bow,” Haitham observed as ES-1 and ES-2 headed to protect their transport from the Fighters.

  “Contact, from ahead,” Communications reported, “Six missiles in bound.”

  “I believe we’ve located ES-4,” I stated.

  “Captain, diverting all three flights of Bricks to assumed ES-4’s sector,” Combat Control announced.

  “First blood Admiral Haitham. They’re about to drew first blood,” Councilor Shi Peng stated happily, “You can stop mucking about. This is a ship of war, so make war.”

  The old man’s eyes were glowing and he’d set his mouth in a death grin. He was actually enjoying this. To him, it was a drama. To me and the rest of the crew, it was a deadly business.

  “ES-4 is moving,” Combat Control reported.

  A feed from a BattlePlatform filled the side screens. ES-4 was long with rows of ports along its spine. She was a yellow ion ship and her captain made an error. He went for an emergency evolution with enemy warships within striking distance.

  Two BattlePlatforms dropped into view and they began to spin around the hull. As they rotated, a thick stream of munitions reached out and cut through the skin of ES-4.

  “Wind Chime, J-Pop here,” I shouted into the mic on the Captain’s chair, “Pull your Bricks. Pull them back now.”

  The destruction of ES-4 began with unfocused yellow ions spewing from a rupture caused by a bad snap. It was nullified by the TNC, Tetranitrocubane, of the missiles exploding. ES-4 went from a long ship to a ball of expanding energy. One BattlePlatform was tossed out of the railing, violent ball, the other just disappeared.

  “ES-4 removed from the list, marked destroyed,” a very dejected Wind Chime reported.

  She’d taken out a missile boat but lost one BattlePlatform and had damage to another. On a cost analysis bases, she was ahead. In this battle she was ahead. Personally, she was suffering the loss of a Galactic Council Navy pilot.

  “Lieutenant Perwira, my congratulation to you and your team in Combat Control,” Haitham said in a deep voice hiding his own grief, “But you’ve got developing situations. Get another flight of Fighters in that battle. And shoot down those missiles.”

  The deck vibrated softly under our feet. Combat Control had opened up with the ship board guns and antimissile defenses.

  “Three missiles destroyed,” Combat Control reported, “One off course. Stand by for impact.”

  We didn’t hear the impacts. They were too far from the Bridge. We did hear a call, “Damage control muster on decks twenty and twenty-three.”

  “Sir, would you like me to go check on the damage?” I asked.

  “No Lieutenant. Stay on the Bridge.”

  “Aye, aye Captain,” I replied turning to look at the main viewer screen.

  Chapter 24

  The space battle was just shy of the transport designated ES-3. ES-1 and ES-2 were surrounded by our Fighters. They swarmed around the bigger ships dodging defensive weapons and inflicting damage. But there was a cost. Several Fighters were floating silently away from the battle zone. Even more were limping back to the BattleShip with damage. More losses of pilots and machinery for Wind Chime and Eaglet to absorb.

  “Well, that’s more like it,” Councilor Peng announced pointing a thin crocked finger at the screen where ES-4 had once existed, “Get after that transport. Crack her open like a raw egg.”

  I wish he hadn’t said that at that exact time. An egg cracks open when the baby raptor is ready to start hunting. ES-3 was ready as well.

  “Combat Control to Bridge,” Wind Chime said, “I’ve reports from flight leaders, there’s movement around ES-3.”

  “Clarify, Combat Control, movement around?” Haitham, call sign Eaglet, inquired.

&n
bsp; “Bridge, wait one,” a different voice responded.

  We waited not knowing what the flight leaders were seeing. To us, the ship was big but undefined on the screen. To a Fighter pilot engaged in combat, it was a curved wall of alloy. Somewhere between the two views there was movement. We just didn’t know what that meant.

  “I should be down there,” whined Eaglet.

  “No Sir,” I replied, “You are Captain of this ship and your place is on the Bridge. Wind Chime is doing a good job. Let her continue. If you’d like, I can go to Combat Control and lend a hand.”

  “Now it’s my turn to scold you,” Haitham said, “You might not know this but you’ve been acting as an Executive Officer during the battle. Your input has saved lives. You’re stuck on the Bridge with me.”

  “Aye Sir,” I responded.

  “Combat Control to Bridge,” Wind Chime finally called, “It’s a war craft carrier. They’ve been launching and staging ships behind her while we engage ES-1 and ES-2.”

  “What do you want to do Lieutenant?” he asked the young Combat Control officer.

  “Pull back and go steel curtain,” she suggested, “We can go on offensive once we break them on our wall.”

  “Agreed Combat Control,” the Captain said, “Construct the steel curtain.”

  Wind Chime was going to move her GunShips inward placing her Fighters on the outside of the defensive screen. The GunShips would engage any enemy ships breaking through the layers of Fighters. BattlePlatforms would charge through the GunShips and reach through the Fighters to punch holes in the attacking ships’ formations.

  The final phase of the steel curtain was to roll it back and uncover a section of the BattleShip’s defensive weapons. Between the Fighters, the GunShips picking off bolder enemy vessels, the Bricks surprise attacks, and the free guns of the Ander El Aitor, the Constabulary was invited to break itself against the steel curtain.

  There was, however, one issue with the steel curtain. It had never been used in war. The idea worked great in computer models. And, everyone agreed it was a solid concept. Except no one had actually performed a steel curtain.

  “Combat Control, give me a count of enemy warships,” ordered Eaglet.

  “Standby,” yet another voice replied.

  “Captain, what are you thinking?” I asked after seeing the worried look on his face.

  “J-Pop, I’m looking at a ship as big as the Ander El Aitor, maybe a little bigger,” he said while running a hand through the bristles of his closely cropped hair, “I know my flight assets and space limitations. If I removed the guns, missiles and torpedo tubes, I could cram four times the assists in this BattleShip. They haven’t wasted any areas on guns. So, what? They have four times our flight assets? Even if they only have three times our flight assists, we may not be able to stand against them.”

  “We will fight on, Sir,” I volunteered trying to pick up his spirits.

  “Yes J-Pop, we will, but you wouldn’t,” he whispered, “Gaither your Strikers and prep the Deep Space GunShip you have stored on the flight deck. I need the Councilor off this ship and on his way to Fleet Command before this battle gets out of hand.”

  “Aye, aye Captain,” I replied.

  There was no sense arguing with Admiral Haitham. He was busy speaking with Combat Control and he’d be busy for the foreseeable future. The first wave of Constabulary Fighters had reached the outer edge of our steel curtain.

  I grabbed the Councilor’s grandson and spoke directly into his ear, “Hui Peng, in one hour, you are to wheel the Councilor to the flight deck. The Marines know the way. Don’t let the old man give you grief. Just have him there.”

  I pulled one of the Councilor’s Marine guards towards me and said about the same thing. After getting the Councilor’s unit warned, I raced to the lift. There I typed two messages.

  ‘Warlock, assemble your team with their gear on the flight deck,’ I sent.

  The second text was to the Druid Elder. He agreed to meet with me without delay.

  “Maredudd, I’m taking Councilor Peng off the Ander El Aitor,” I said after greeting him.

  “So be it,” he replied solemnly, “Safe travels.”

  “But, I have a request,” I replied.

  “Speak your words, Knight Protector of the Clan,” he ordered flatly.

  “I want to take your children with me,” I said, “I’ll personally escort them to the homeland on planet Uno. You can claim them later.”

  “Later, yes,” he said letting a slight smile grace his face, “The children will accompany you. We will claim, as you say, them later.”

  “Have them at the flight deck in under an hour,” I said, “I have no more words.”

  He turned abruptly and flowed back through the vault door. I sprinted to the lifts and took one to the flight deck.

  Chapter 25

  The first thing to hit me was the stiff breeze. Although the air handling units were blowing in clean air and sucking out the dirty, some of the more powerful aromas lingered. Sweat, grease, burning alloy and ozone assaulted my nostrils. I leaned into the wind and began weaving through the obstacle course of a flight deck preparing ships for war.

  Skids piled high with munitions had the right of way. I dodged between two and paused. A line of fresh Fighters was slowly being towed to the ready line. Ducking under a rocket pod, I braced one hand on a ship and used it to keep a safe distance as I ducked under the nose assembly.

  On the other side, I halted again as empty ammo skids returned. Like colony bugs, they scurried to an arched opening and disappeared into a black hole. I knew they were heading to the Armory to collect more gun ammo, rockets and missiles.

  To the rear of the deck, I could see tiers of Fighters. The lower levels had already been emptied as well as some of tiers two and three. The Ander El Aitor was throwing a lot of assets into the fight.

  At the preparation line, full skids were shoved into the bellies of waiting Fighters. The skids were pushed in long enough for armorers to unload and arm the warships. Once done, the empty skids rushed back to the Armory for more.

  “Take your time when arming a warship,” the instructors at Armor’s school had drilled into us, “Because, in a fight, a pilot wouldn’t have the time to worry. Your time dictates if they win or die.”

  The instructors in Armory training had us repeat it time and time again, “Win or die? Take your time.”

  But, we’d never conducted drills where senior NCOs and Officers were missing. I worried, as I dodged another skid, about the efficiency of the crews loading the Fighters. I also worried because, we’d never practiced assembly line arming, as this fight had forced on these young men and women.

  Farther across the deck and out of the Fighter area, I entered the slower paced GunShip area. Here the skids were being used by the GunShip’s crews. They came from the arched black hole of the Armory with skids, not nearly as heavily loaded.

  The tiers of stacked GunShips were more depleted than the Fighter stacks. It was a reminder of the battle raging around the BattleShip. It angered me, as I wanted to be in the fight, instead of being a bus driver. I took in a punishing breath of the grease, sweat and ozone as I crossed to the corner of the tiers.

  My Deep Space GunShip was tucked out of the way beside a dark bulkhead. I located a tug and backed it up to the sled. Once I had the DS pulled away from the wall, but out of the way of other crews, I detached the tug and found an unused ammo skid.

  I heard a few laughs and rude comments as I wheeled the fully loaded skid back through the arch. The amused GunShip crewmembers must have thought I was like a kid in a candy store, my eyes too big for my stomach, carrying more than I could eat. But, they were wrong. Sure the skid was piled high with munitions. But, the stacks of ammo magazines and rockets were only a full loadout for the DS. My GunShip had a huge appetite for the deadly consumables.

  The hard part was installing the munitions on the auto loading system. I grunted and wiped the sweat from my forehea
d than shoved the last gun ammo magazine into place. Above the gun ammo, I had already hung the rockets on the auto feeder belts. I eased back and closed the plating of the bunker. After checking to be sure it was secure and any explosion in the bunker would be contained, I scooted back until my legs danged from the ammo access hatch.

  I scooted a little more and the rest of my body fell out of the hatch. I dropped to the deck, reached up, and slid the ammo access hatch closed. As I finished checking the hatch to be sure it was closed correctly and would maintain the integrity of the GunShip’s outer skin, I heard applause.

  Turning around, I was greeted by five grinning Strikers. They were sprawled on their personal crates in a semi-circle. It looked as if they were watching some form of entertainment.

  “I could have used a hand,” I whined as I dragged my sleeve across my damp brow.

  “We just did,” Fire Dove said, “But if you insist.”

  And, the five put their hands together, and gave me another round of applause.

  “I’ve got to test the ion cannons,” I said turning abruptly from the Strikers.

  “Hold on a second, Lieutenant,” Warlock called out.

  I turned back to face her.

  She uncurled from her relaxed pose and stood. Her machine gun rotated from behind her back and a serious scowl clouded her face.

  “I’d recommend a search of the ship,” she advised, “before applying power to the ion wall.”

  “A search would be prudent,” Stone Angel added.

  “Yes Sir. I’m not keen on going anywhere in the DS until I know it’s safe,” Thunder Eagle added.

  “It’s a Striker GunShip,” Heavy Rain stated, “It’s never safe. Not the ride and certainly not the destination.”

  “Alert,” the four other Striker shouted in agreement.

  I got a grip on the lower edge of the hatch and pulled my body into the DS GunShip. The hatch was wide enough for a fully equipped Striker Earth element to easily walk through. I held out my arms and my fingertips just touched each side of the hatch.