Waking the Sleeping Giant: The First Terran Interstellar War 2 (Founding of the Federation Book 5)

by Chris Hechtl

  One good thing, he had an eight of lesser defenders and the enemy had none at all. He also had four eight of cruisers to the enemy's three eights and three. But he had only the three carriers, where the enemy had seven of the larger and six of the smaller variety. And they also had their smaller escort warships they used as a screen. They had two eights and five of them, though one was off guarding their support herd.

  As he watched the enemy's force split further into three groups. The great defenders and most of their cruisers and escorts began to put distance between themselves and the carrier herd and their escorts. He wondered why, until he realized that the enemy was trying to pin him with either force. If he went for one, he would be vulnerable to the other. Should he split his forces? He shook his head almost instantly. If he did that, he would be numerically inferior to both forces. No, he needed to stay concentrated but also within supporting distance of the planet, yet far out enough to defend it and allow him to fall back as needed.

  He frowned pensively as he had the navigator bulls feed him various courses. Somewhere in there was the one he wanted.

  (@)()(@)

  “They have the numbers, the quantity, but we've got the quality people,” Jan said in an address to the fleet. “We're going to show them what quality means by kicking their keisters. Stay sharp; let's make sure we make a clean sweep. Long live the Confederation,” she said, ending her address and then changing the channel to her senior officers only.

  “Are we ready? Who's not ready?” she asked the wall of captains and admirals. None said they weren't ready. She knew none of them would, even if their ship was on its last engine room this was where they wanted to be.

  Jan split her fleet in order to entice the enemy into fighting. Admiral Rutledge with the battle line was the anvil; her carrier wings were the hammer. Admiral Oh was stuck with his command split between the two forces and thus out of contact. She had left him in charge of the twenty-four cruisers and sixteen destroyers with the battle line. She had taken on the remaining three cruisers and four destroyers to act as a light screen for her carrier force.

  “The idea is to entice them to battle. They'll have to pick one or the other unless they split their forces too. Our ships are faster and nimbler than they are, so be prepared to dance.”

  “We'll show them some moves. But I want to get some licks in while we're at it,” Admiral Rutledge growled.

  “As long as they are against the ships,” Jan stressed. “We're using the planet as bait. They'll want to defend it. So, keep that in mind. Don't waste munitions on it; we're going to need everything we've got to break the big boys,” she warned.

  Her officers nodded. “Do you think they'll run, ma'am?” Captain Oh asked with a one-second delay. He was out with the screen, and the distance was already starting to show.

  “I don't know. I want to pick off as many warships as we can if they do. The more we kill here, the less we'll have to fight later,” she said firmly. “Commander Bently had picked up in his interviews that the battleships, the 'great defenders,' took the Taurens decades to build. So, every one they lost was one they couldn't replace easily or cheaply.”

  “Understood, ma'am. We'll make sure they pay steep prices, in blood every chance we get,” Captain Oh replied.

  “That's the spirit. This isn't about vengeance, ladies and gentlemen. This is about ending the war on our terms. Fix that in your heads now. We need to win, but do it smart. Go off half-cocked and they could slip out of the noose or hit where we're blind to. I don't want that. None of you do either. So, fight smart.”

  A soft chorus of aye ayes answered her.

  Willard came up superstitiously behind her holding a tablet. “And now, before we even get to the fun bit, I've got more paperwork it seems.” That earned a louder chorus of chuckles and laughter. She turned slightly to see Willard smile in depreciation and shake his head mournfully.

  “See you on the other side,” she said with a crocked smile as she cut the channel.

  (@)()(@)

  “Okay people, we're going to be the main killing component here. We're going to be using missiles so make sure missile defenses are on standby. The main targets are the battleships and battle cruisers. We need to cripple or kill them. I prefer kill,” Admiral Rutledge growled.

  He'd almost left it too late he thought as he surveyed his flag staff around him and the various ships' captains on the screens around him. It had taken quite a bit of political muscle and maneuvers to get him to where he was. Even though Admiral Oh had been a rear admiral longer, he had been in the field so long he'd missed out on opportunities for advancement in home fleet. All of the personnel who had been in the field with Second Fleet were long overdue for a promotion, but that was how it went with a deployment. They had missed opportunities that Admiral Rutledge had taken advantage of to get to his current position.

  The one thing he didn't have in his dossier was a combat ticket. He'd been laid up from a busted leg and skull after a stupid ski accident just prior to the battle of Sol. He'd tried to get in to the Altair picket but instead he'd been tapped to be a cruiser captain and then a battleship captain in home fleet. From there he'd served at the academy and on several of the planning and promotional staffs. He'd learned to play the game there though, rubbed elbows and talked the talk with the politicians both in and out of uniform. He'd gotten enough good attention from senators and a couple congresswomen that he'd been pushed up the ranks into flag rank.

  He wasn't certain where the future would bring him. He had his eyes on the presidency as a possibly ultimate prize, but he'd settle for CNO if he could get it or both. But first things first.

  “Admiral Oh's screen will be our first line of defense. What we're going to do is what our people have been doing since the days of steam naval warfare. We're going to pick one target and pound it. We're going to show them it's not so much the number of warships as it is the concentration of fire,” he stressed. “And by that I mean we're going to hit them so hard their mamas are gonna bleed all over again. And we're going to hit them in the right spot, and we're going to keep hitting em' until there is nothing left but scrap.”

  There were grim nods on the screens around him.

  “Get your people looking for weak spots. Remember what we've drilled. We've got … about …” He checked his HUD, but when the info wasn't there, he turned slightly to look at his chief of staff.

  “Twenty hours,” Commander Fowler, his chief of staff supplied with a murmur.

  “Twenty hours until we're in range. Make sure your people are well rested so we can come out swinging. I intend to get the first licks in and they damn well better be good ones. That is all,” the admiral said, nodding once as he cut the circuit.

  “Sir, Admiral Kepler's orders are to fight defensively …,” the commander warned in a soft aside.

  “Don't worry about her. Jan's just not happy that the carriers haven't gotten the kills she thinks they should. Well, this is a battleship war. We've been the ones to make the kills, and we're going to keep doing that. She won't say anything,” he said.

  The commander gave him a dubious look but then nodded once and then turned to a lieutenant with a tablet extended to him.

  (@)()(@)

  Jan watched as the two task forces split up. She hoped Admiral Rutledge could stand up to this final test of the furnace. She would have much preferred someone like Seong in command of her battle line, or hell, one of her captains, but Walter had sent her Rutledge. She'd run some simulations with him on the way out, but he was still something of an unknown to her. He had a lot to prove; she knew that much.

  He'd get it done, she thought, forcing herself to relax. He had to. One way or another they were committed.

  (@)()(@)

  “The enemy forces are splitting into two components. One is their great defenders with a majority of their cruisers and escorts; the other is their carrier force,” the Beta bull reported. “Call it three eights of the cruisers and two eights of the l
esser escorts with the great defenders. The remaining escorts are with the carriers. Should we do the same?” he asked.

  “No,” the Alpha bull rumbled after a long moment of thought. “It is what they want us to do. If we split the force, it would mean one side or the other would have the advantage. No, we keep our forces concentrated.”

  “How do we deal with this then? We will be attacked from two different axes,” the Gamma bull warned.

  “By engineering the timing carefully so they can't attack us at the same time. And we've got a few surprises of our own to use. Note, for instance, that they have no carriers covering their great defenders. I think it is time we return the favor for their recent attacks …”

  (@)()(@)

  Dreamer shook his head as his shuttle was diverted. “What do you mean?” he demanded of the pilot.

  “Orders. The herd leader ordered us to divert to the factory ship. The support ships are to break orbit and head to the jump point,” the bull replied.

  “But …”

  “Orders are orders,” the bull replied. “Now do I need to ask you to go sit back down or should I find someone to help you?” he asked.

  “Okay, okay, I'm going,” Dreamer grumbled, wondering what the devil was going on.

  (@)()(@)

  The Alpha bull grunted when he got the report of Dreamer's diversion. At least that part had gone off. He'd almost timed it too late. Dreamer needed to remain alive and out of captivity, which was why he'd sent him off with the support herd. The herd had orders to flee if the battle went badly as he half expected it to.

  The greater herd would need Dreamer, need him and the other thinkers and tinkers on that shuttle. Need them badly if the greater herd was going to survive.

  (@)()(@)

  “Who in this room is not ready?” Captain Adrienne Hatfield murmured as she surveyed the group of pilots. Not one person was foolish enough to raise a hand or say anything.

  “Good, I'm glad we've got that settled,” she said firmly. She'd just gone over the basic plan. She knew they would be adapting the plan as the clock ran out and might even shitcan the plan all together. Hopefully not.

  “Alpha plan is a straight-up pincer clash. Beta is where they come for us and we have to play roadblock; Charlie is where the battle line is the roadblock. Omega is our go-to-hell plan if something goes wrong. If it gets that shitty, I doubt any of us will be alive to see the fleet run for home, but don't worry about that now.”

  She surveyed the group again and then snorted. They were all eager, all practically jumping for joy at getting it stuck in despite the odds against their survival. Ah, to be that young and dumb she thought in bittersweet amusement.

  She came around the lectern and crossed her arms as she addressed them without the microphone.

  “We launch in fifteen hours, people, so take it from someone who's been there multiple times, get as much rest as you can while you can. You can nap in the cockpit on the way there, but I know most of you will be too keyed up to be able to do so, so damn it, get your z's in now while you've got a comfortable rack and the time to do so. I need everyone sharp and on their A game,” Adrienne growled as she surveyed the pilot's ready room.

  When no one said anything, she nodded. “Questions?” Again, there was a silence. “Fine then. Your mission plan is loaded in your Artoo units. We've got way points for refueling and such as well; that is an ongoing plot with flight control. They'll keep it running right up until we launch and most likely after. Don't frack up. Dismissed.”

  The room came to attention briefly and then the officers murmured as they filed out or broke up into knots to discuss one thing or another.

  She shook her head and headed out to check in with Prifly and the maintenance crews before she tried to follow her own advice.

  (@)()(@)

  Lieutenant Commander Roger Daringer checked in the bridge and wasn't surprised to see the skipper standing there by the gunnery station talking softly with the TO. She looked up and then back to her conversation with the TO. When she finished she patted the man on the arm and then came over to her XO.

  “Are you ready for this?” Captain Gomez asked softly. “Once more back unto the whatever?”

  “Unto the breach, ma'am, and the answer is, yes, ma'am,” Roger replied. By rights the navy should have sent in a replacement draft of personnel and rotated a lot of them home. Or, barring that, swapped entire ships. Many people like himself were overdue for a promotion. Captain Gomez had gotten Galahad at his age. He was confident he could skipper a ship now.

  “Good. How is the ship?”

  “At or as near 100 percent across the board as we can get her, ma'am,” her XO replied dutifully. CIC reported something odd on the returns though. They aren't certain, but it looks like the enemy is using external racks for their missile supply. I think that is their way of getting around not having any internal tubes.”

  “They can't have much starting speed then,” the TO said as he came over. He frowned and scratched behind his ear. “But they can flush everything at once if their fire control can handle it.”

  “Something to keep in mind. Anything from Flag about this?” the captain asked in a measured tone of voice.

  “No, ma'am.”

  “Guns, get that CIC data and write it up fast. Make sure someone knows to keep a look out for that and the flush scenario,” the captain warned. The TO nodded and took off for CIC.

  “I'm going to go get some shut eye. I suggest you do the same,” the captain said to her XO as she turned to him.

  “I will, ma'am, after I do one last walkabout,” he said.

  She nodded and patted his shoulder as she took off. He turned to an ensign. “Ensign Rami, you've got the bridge.

  “Aye, sir, I have the bridge,” the ensign replied dutifully, making a note in the log.

  Roger left the bridge wondering if it would be like that when he had his own ship. Would there be a navy after the war concluded? He had to admit, he had fallen in love with the service. It beat running the family's shuttle service and dealing with drunk passengers throwing up any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

  He did his best to banish such distracting thoughts as he went about his duties preparing the ship for another battle.

  (@)()(@)

  Captain Russel Gates whistled softly to himself as he saw the incoming wall of metal. Well, not necessarily a wall, more like a globe, with the cruisers in rings around the battle line. There were several cargo ships there with the battleships; he wasn't certain as to why. The enemy had to have wanted to have sent them off with the others; did they keep them for some nefarious reason? Perhaps because they had missiles?

  He wasn't certain. He knew CIC was trying to do their best, but they couldn't look through the hulls of the ships. They'd just make do.

  He liked Admiral Rutledge, and Bayern was a damn good ship to have as a flagship considering she was a dreadnought, but sometimes he wished the admiral had picked a different ship. She was likely to draw a lot of fire as it was—having him onboard doubled the chances of getting too much unwanted attention.

  But, it wasn't up to him. Besides, he wanted to be in the thick of it, just as badly as many of the sailors in the fleet. They'd make it work, one way or another.

  (@)()(@)

  Considering that there were two elements against him, the Alpha bull ordered a series of random course changes to throw the enemy's timing off. Each time he changed course, there would be a time lag before the enemy's sensors picked it up and they compensated. If he caught them off guard, he might put some distance between them or throw them off balance and out of position.

  He waited a bit for them to adjust and then changed course again. He saw that due to the geometry of the incoming forces, the carriers were forced to hang back. His third course change threw them off enough to allow him a certainty in clashing with the enemy battle line first.

  (@)()(@)

  Jan saw the maneuver for what it was and swore under her b
reath as Alton and Willard came up to her side. “Well, my plan to soften them up while pinning them down went south,” she said in a slightly astringent tone of voice. She'd half expected something like that to happen. The enemy commander had been smart enough not to divide his forces. “It looks like Charlie plan is a go.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” Willard murmured, making a note.

  Jan glanced at him and then went back to studying the main plot. “Well, if we're going to do it, we'll just have to do it the hard way I suppose.”

  Alton nodded. “Yes, ma’am, no plan survives contact with the enemy,” Alton replied. “It looks like Admiral Rutledge gets to have his missile exchange,” he said.

  “Yeah, I see that. Let's see if he can distract them while we maneuver to a better position. Say, somewhere to their underbelly and their six?” she asked.

  Alton cocked his head and then nodded once. “I'll work on it with nav, ma'am.”

  “Good. Get me those course corrections ASAP.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  Chapter 41

  The sensor techs reported the maneuver of the carrier force to the fleet herd leaders and ship leaders within a minute of seeing it on their scopes. “Order the fighter craft carrier and the mixed carrier to slow and move to oppose that force. But they are to remain in our herd,” the Alpha bull ordered.

  He turned to where the first battle was about to begin. If he was right, then the Terrans had taken a great deal of time to understand his people's psychology, including their preference to charge an opponent and overwhelm them. So, he intended to use that knowledge against them.

  “Sir, the first bombers are ready,” the ship's Alpha bull reported.