On the bridge the main holo display winked out. Only the external optical camera system had power requirements low enough for the batteries to run.
"Skipper, main helm and internal communications are down!"
"Deploy damage control teams two and three across the ship to act at message relays." Crowe barked back. "Order engineering to take helm and prepare to receive instructions."
"Skipper. Runner from engineering, the Chiefs dead!"
"We have incoming on visual." A sensor rating shouted.
"Shit!" Crowe looked frantically round his bridge for someone to send. "Bosun Benson get your ass down to engineering and take over!"
Benson didn’t wait to acknowledge his captain but was up and out of the hatch instantly.
As the hatch clanged closed behind Benson, Crowe turned back towards the display his expression grim. The closing missiles looked to be a pair of the big ship killers. Just one of those things had damn near crippled Mississippi, a bigger and more sturdily built ship than Deimos. With them coming in from directly astern the closing speed was agonisingly slow but still enough to overhaul the starship.
With Deimos now only coasting, the other four ships were starting to pull away. With not a working gun among them there was no question of waiting or coming back for Deimos. There were a couple of sudden jerks as the engines came back online. But without the main computers, there was no finesse in engines, it was strictly on or off.
"Skipper damage control teams in position; you have piggy back connection to engineering." Said a voice across the intercom.
"Understood, Bridge to Bosun! Where the hell is my generator?"
"Five minutes, sir!"
"We’re going to be wreckage in two!"
"That’s the best we can do. We’re doing some major rewiring back here.”
Crowe closed the connection and shouted across the bridge.
"Does Colossus have anything left?"
"Negative! All their aft bearing weapons are gone and they’ve still only got one reactor."
"Bosun, stand by for evasive manoeuvres." Relaying evasion manoeuvres to engineering would make them sluggish. The chances of dodging even one of the missiles would be poor; dodging both would be one in a million stuff.
"Stand by."
"Skipper! Radio transmission we’re being ordered to hold course!"
Damn them! The Colossus’s captain clearly wanted them to stand and take it rather than risk a missile missing Deimos and acquiring the battleship. Hells teeth! Deimos and her crew had given enough.
"Signal Colossus to go to hell!" Crowe snarled.
The coms officer shrank back from his anger.
"Sir we don’t have transmission capability and the signal came from the Mantis." He stuttered out.
Berg! Crowe automatically glanced towards the main radar display; it was still blank. He had no way of knowing where Carol was.
"Hold steady." Crowe ordered
"Sir!" The Colwell objected.
"That’s an order. Commander Berg has our back, we can trust her." I hope.
Seconds crawled past as the missiles bore down on them. Suddenly on the visual display a plasma bolt flashed past one of the missiles. She was attempting a crossing shot, the most difficult form of shooting. A second, then a third shot flashed harmlessly past the missiles. Crowe’s jaw started to hurt from gritting his teeth. The fourth shot clipped the stern of one of the missiles. The missile’s drive cut out and it started to fall beside.
"Come on, come on." Crowe found himself muttering as seconds dragged by. Four shots in quick succession meant two destroyers. But now both ships were recharging their firing chambers, would they charge quickly enough? It would be tight that was for sure.
"Sir, we can still try to dodge." If they started manoeuvring the missile would start making corrections and that would reduce Berg’s chance of hitting to zero.
"No! Hold her steady."
"I think we have about twenty seconds to impact!"
Two shots sizzled past the missile. Someone on the bridge let out a groan. Crowe closed his eyes.
"Thanks for the effort Carol." He whispered to himself.
A sudden cheer deafened Crowe as every crew member abandoned coms discipline. Crowe’s eyes snapped open, just in time to see the fireball that was the missiles death been snuffed out by the vacuum. All round the bridge officers and ratings embraced, slapped each other backs and, as if the ship itself was celebrating, the electric’s started to come back on.
"Navigator, start calculating our jump out, communications signal Mantis to take position to brace the wormhole conduit around Colossus… and give our thanks." On the radar display more missiles were visible, but they were far, too far a stern to be any threat. They’d got out.
___________________________
Space is, by it’s nature, always silent, but now in the aftermath of the slaughter it seemed more silent than usual. On some of the wrecks, now floating around the freshly cratered asteroid that had once been Baden Base, there was still life. Here and there, crewmen and women who had managed to get into their survival suits and were now trapped in shattered hulks that had once been starships.
It would be nearly a day and a half before the last of them died.
___________________________
On L12 Chuong fought hard not to vomit as he looked around the bridge of the courier. Everyone had a story of seeing someone hurl inside a space suit, no one wanted to be the subject of such stories, Chuong won the fight, just. There was now a meter wide hole in the side of the courier’s bridge, outside the stars spun gently and the powerless vessel continued to slowly tumble. It was a far preferable to the view of the bridge crew.
Lieutenant Malawati and the two bridge ratings hadn’t had time to put on their survival suits. None of them had died easily when the hole was blown in the hull. He brushed aside a lump of something organic and looked at the display. There was a single red light. That meant there was no choice on what must come next.
Chuong made his way back through the temporary airlock they had rigged between the bridge and engineering. Stephens and Francis waited anxiously in engineering.
"Well?" Stephen asked as they helped Chuong take his suit helmet off.
"The bridge was opened up, the others are dead, the rad shield gone, looks like the hit went through the emitter but other than that we haven’t been damaged."
Francis let out a sign of relief.
"Well we can re-rig the control to down here in a day or two and then head for Landfall." He said in a voice shaky with emotion. “Even without the screen we can make that safely enough.”
"Really thought we’d had it there." Stephens said.
"Did you?" Francis replied throwing a playful punch. "I didn’t think an optimistic guy like you, would be worried for a second."
"Nice to be wrong for once."
"We’re not going to Landfall." Chuong said flatly, not looking at the two men. The two exchanged looks of confusion. "We’re going to Earth, and we’re leaving now."
"Err…PO there aren’t any duplicate controls down here, we’d have to run the ship from the bridge." Stephens said slowly. "We can’t jump out with the bridge open to space."
"Yeah, there’s no need to head for Earth. We can make it to Landfall far easier." Francis added.
"This isn’t about what’s easy it’s about what has to be done."
"PO, what in god’s name are you talking about?"
"We have to go to Earth and tell them what happen here. Tell them what is coming." Chuong said quietly.
The engine room suddenly seemed very quiet.
"PO, if we go to jump space anyone on the bridge is going to take a massive radiation dose. Even if we crank up the radiation screen no one would last three and half days of that!"
"You right no one person would last that long."
There was another long pause. Then the expressions of both of them changed as they realised what Chuong was saying
"Whoa! I did not sign up for that!" Stephens burst out. "You’re taking goddamn suicide!"
"Then what the hell did you sign up for?" Chuong roared back. "In case you haven’t been paying attention the fleet has just been smoked by people who can make realspace re-entry inside the Mass Shadow! No one on Earth knows they can do that! That means they could do the same thing again over Earth. Do you understand what I am saying! The Home Fleet has to be warned!"
"The base will have sent a FTL transmission to tell Earth." Stephens replied weakly.
"Do you know that for sure? Are you absolutely sure of that?" Chuong demanded.
"There’s the Landfall FTL…" Francis started to say.
"No, there isn’t." Stephens said in a sick voice. "It’s being overhauled this week. The things in bits. They won’t get it working for days."
"Then that’s it, we have to go. The Home Fleet is all that’s between whoever the hell these guys are and Earth, and everyone on Earth."
Chuong knew damn well that was a low shot. Both Stephens and Francis had young families, and he was asking that neither of them see them again. But he couldn’t do this without them both. Slowly both of them nodded.
"PO I’ve got some letters to write first." Francis said quietly.
"I think we all have." Chuong replied equally quietly. "We may not be able to later on."
Twenty minutes later there was a brief flash as L12 left realspace.
Chapter Six
Storm Warning
25th July 2066
Despite a telephone warning, the marine guards manning the gate barely got it open in time as the staff car sped through. The car’s engine whined urgently as it continued to race towards the main building of Headquarters. Finally in a screech of rubber, it slid to a halt in front of the building sending a number of personnel scrambling out of the way. Admiral Lewis was up and out of the car almost before it stopped moving. Taking steps two at a time he was into the building within a few seconds.
Inside the main door Fleet Headquarters resembled a kicked ants nest, officers and rating hurried back and forth carrying messages, doing tasks with terrible urgency, as if they could somehow reverse what had happened. Lewis strode through the reception area, his expression thunderous. Even amongst such urgency and scarcely controlled panic officers, ratings and even the marine guards were careful not to get in the admiral’s way.
Staff Captain Sheehan joined his boss in the corridor beyond the main reception, automatically he matched step with the Admiral.
"Well?" Lewis demanded.
"Transmission is still coming in, sir. A lot of it is garbled but what we have at the moment is that Baden and the Third Fleet are/have taken a hammering." Sheehan replied.
"How in hells name did they get into firing range of the damn base?" Lewis snapped half to himself.
"That we don’t yet know, sir. Admiral Wingate is waiting for you in the main conference room. The Governing Council has been summoned but they haven’t been informed why. Admiral Wingate is trying to keep this out of the press until at least the Council knows."
"Have you seen the chaos out there Tim? I’ll be stunned if the press hasn’t got a sniff already."
"Sir! Sir!"
A young lieutenant came running down the corridor towards them.
"Sir, latest signal from Baden!" She gasped offering a signal pad.
Lewis frowned at the officer as he took the pad; she visibly wilted under his glare. Quickly he read across the message, his expression tightened as he did.
"I see. That will be all lieutenant, you are dismissed." Lewis half turned before snapping. "And this time lieutenant, walk."
Fifteen minutes of walking took the two officers deep into the building. When Lewis walked into the conference chamber there were clumps of staff officers standing around the edge of the chamber speaking quietly. Unlike the chaos upstairs, the atmosphere in the conference room was that of a funeral. Admiral Wingate sat at the conference table alone with his fingers steepled together staring into space.
"Sir." Lewis acknowledged his senior as he took his seat beside Wingate.
"Paul." Wingate replied. "Have you seen the latest from Baden?"
"Yes, sir, I have. The odds are the bad news hasn’t finished arriving yet either."
Wingate rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was hard to believe that just under three quarters on an hour ago it had just been a normal day, he’d been planning to spend it golfing, and then the first of the signals had arrived like a bolt from the blue and all hell immediately broken loose.
"I pray to God you’re wrong, Paul, but really doubt that you are." Wingate replied running his hand through what was left of his hair.
A chime came from the ceiling
"Please rise for the Command Council."
The officers standing around the edge of the room hurried to their places as the holograms on the other side of the table flickered into life.
No one who saw the Command Council at that moment could have doubted the seriousness of the situation. While President Clifton was dressed in her usual business suit, the Chinese Premier was clothed in a dressing gown, the German Chancellor was in formal evening wear and the British Prime Minister was in casual t-shirt and trousers.
"All right Wingate, what the hell is this about?" Snapped US President Clifton. "I’ve had to run out of a news conference, so this had better be bloody good!"
"I apologise to you all that this meeting has had to be called so abruptly." Wingate replied matching the president’s sharp tone. "Just over… forty minutes ago we started receiving an FTL transmission from Baden Station, we are still receiving the transmission at this time. It is stating that they are under attack. To the extent that the base itself is actively under fire."
The holographic Council collectively gasped expressions of irritation and annoyance disappeared to be replaced by shock and horror.
"The Aèllr have declared war?" Prime Minister Layland blurted out.
"No, sir. The transmission has continued and identified the attackers as the Nameless. It has also gone on to report that the Third Fleet has been caught off guard, in effect, caught at anchor. In essence Council members, Baden and the Third Fleet have become subject to a Pearl Harbour style attack.”
There was a long moment of silence in the large chamber.
Layland cleared his throat nervously.
"Admiral, do we know the full extent of the losses yet?"
"Unfortunately no." Wingate replied. "Due to the thirty nine hour communications lag we are only receiving now the transmissions sent in the opening minutes of the attack."
"What action can be taken?" The German Chancellor asked.
Wingate paused; the modern national leaders were used to being aware of, and able to influence events minute by minute. But out in space, even with Faster Than Light Transmitters and courier ships, it could be hours or days before news of an event on the rim reached Earth.
"I am sorry mister chancellor, this attack started over a day and a half ago. One way or the other it is doubtlessly already over." Wingate replied flatly.
"All right." President Clifton said. "Let’s approach this from another direction. How bad could this be?"
Wingate looked at Lewis. "Paul?" He prompted.
"The transmissions from Baden stated that the enemy has successfully achieved complete surprise. We have in the past wargamed a number of Pearl Harbour style scenarios. The basic premise is that a section of our fleet is caught effectively ‘at anchor’, its weapons powered down and crews not closed on their battle stations."
"Admiral, are you going to be getting to the point anytime soon?" Clifton snapped.
"Yes madam president, I am." Lewis replied evenly. "The point is very, very simple. Those wargames have indicated that the fleet would suffer the complete loss of at least fifty percent of those combat units present. Almost all units that did survive were judged to have sustained significant damage. Enough to require major dockyard time. I would like
to emphases, fifty percent was the minimum loss."
"Oh dear God." Someone muttered.
"The deployment of the fleet at present, Council members," Lewis continued as if there had been no interruption, "is such that the Third Fleet possesses just over one quarter of our first line combat strength. In addition about a third of our support ships are based at Baden. Baden itself is the only significant dockyard facility in the region of Landfall. It is already certain that those facilities will have taken damage; although to what extent we can currently only guess…"
Lewis stopped as an officer crashed through the doors into the room and almost sprinted to Admiral Wingate. He whispered urgently in Wingate’s ear as he pressed a computer pad into the Admiral’s hand. Wingate went visibly pale beneath his dark colouration. He glanced at the second sheet before passing them both sideways. Lewis’s eye’s flicked across the brief messages, his lips compressed into two bloodless lines.
"Gentlemen?" The President asked quietly.
"It is a signal from Admiral Camile, commander of Third Fleet. It reads; Base lost. Fleet ordered to scatter. Enemy…" Wingate said in a flat voice. "It cuts off there."
"What does this mean?"
"It means that the Third Fleet has been decisively defeated. Camile believes, well believed, that not only could the Third Fleet not defend Baden, they could not retreat in good order. In essence a scatter order means that the Third Fleet has been routed, the survivors are now fleeing back towards Earth."
There was a hushed silence in the large room broke only by someone coughing quietly.
"Oh, and the press have wind of this." Lewis added looking up from the pad.
President Clifton visibly composed herself. Aliens and space battles might be outside her control, but the press she understood.
"Alright everyone. We have a problem; the question is what action can we take?" President Clifton said after a long moment of silence.
"After we received the first signal from Baden, we sent out an FTL transmission to Dryad where the Second and detached elements of the Home Fleet are currently exercising. They have been ordered to return from Dryad at best possible speed. If I may remind Council however that the distance to Dryad is such that the signal will not be received for almost another thirty two hours." Wingate replied. "We can’t know how long it will take Admiral Fengzi to gather the ships but the very earliest we can expect those elements to reach Earth is a hundred and fifty hours after the receipt of that transmission."
The Nameless War Page 14
