Scouts Out 3 - War

by Danny Loomis

  By now Haven was once more calm. “Good. Thanks, Captain.” He strode towards his office, giving his aide one last order. “Have Major Vogel report to me ASAP.”

  Within minutes Vogel was standing at attention in front of his desk. Haven allowed a smile to cross his face. “Stan, I have a special mission for you. One you should particularly enjoy, since it means killing Confederation troops, specifically the Long Range Scouts you seem to have a history with. Interested?”

  Vogel’s smile spread across his face. “Very interested, Sir.”

  * * *

  Irish had just gotten his area set up in the new emergency center when his screen lit up. He did a double-take on the signal coming in. What the Hell? Puzzled, he keyed his comm board. “Scout One here,” he said.

  “Good to hear your voice, Irish,” came the reply. “For security purposes, my code number is Alpha Three Sierra. Are things heating up yet?”

  That voice–Major Stanton. He straightened, excitement building. “Just stirred the pot and got a strong reaction. Looks as if the Alliance is going to quit babying the Legislaturists and take over. Things will get too hot down here if we don’t have some kind of support soon.”

  “We just got word, Irish. Help’s on the way. I beamed up special orders for the Erebus and to the other units already in-system. Tell the freedom fighters to head towards any Alliance garrison and wait for the signal. If this works, I’ll buy you a beer at the closest pub when it’s over. If it doesn’t, it won’t matter.” The signal died.

  * * *

  A quiet chime awakened Admiral Davis from his nap. He stretched, emitting an involuntary groan when his body protested. Another three hours of solid sleep would feel good right now.

  He sat up, swinging his feet to the deck. Sleeping on a narrow cot had become second nature to him over the years, but he still didn’t care for it.

  A tap on his door, and his aide Lieutenant Michaels poked his head in. “Captain Clarke says it’s time, Sir.”

  “Be there in five.” Davis came upright, and steered his body towards the head.

  Five minutes on the dot he strode to the bridge of the Falcon, nodding his thanks when Michaels handed him a cup of coffee.

  Clarke looked up from his situation board with a smile. “Hope you got some rest, Admiral. Might be awhile before any of us get a chance to relax.”

  “Thanks for reminding me to do so while there was time,” he said with a smile. His fingers touched the screen. “What’s our present status?”

  “Still on track to exit N-space in two hours, Sir. Christopher and Thunder continue to bring up the rear. Not sure how two superdreadnoughts feel having to rub shoulders with lowly cruisers, though.”

  “How about the drone we had leading the way?”

  “The drone exited when you disappeared for a nap, so the friendlies in the Eire system must have word by now when we’re due to emerge.”

  Davis shook his head. “I’m still amazed we were able to keep that drone cloaked the entire way through N-space.”

  “Only way we could make sure it wouldn’t be spotted when it exited. This way, the single thing they might have been able to spot was the flux that occurs when someone uses that particular nexus.” Clarke brought up another schematic. “As you can see, our formation is the same. Haven’t lost touch with any more ships since the two cruisers from yesterday.”

  Davis studied the screen. Five superdreadnoughts, four dreadnoughts, six heavy cruisers, and four corvettes were displayed, all attached with laser beams. Although the Admiral who’d first used the concept was dead, his successful transit of N-space with all his ships in touch via laser comms had ensured his name would live on.

  He relaxed and sat in a chair next to the Captain. “Just wish I knew if the other three waves of ships made it into N-space. I’d feel a lot better knowing we had backup once into the Eire system.”

  “Join the club, Sir,” Clarke said with a smile. “Theory’s all well and good. But when you’re the first to put it to the test, it can get a little hairy.” He sobered. “Still wish you’d stayed in the third wave. Too much risk being in the front.”

  “Normally I would’ve agreed with you on that,” he said. “But this isn’t a normal attack. I have to get information as to what’s happening first-hand and fast.”

  “Understood, Sir.”

  “You feel okay being the lead ship along with Dorrance to do the exit?”

  “No problem there, Admiral. Our crew’s been doing simulation attacks in coordination with the Dorrance for the past two days. The helm officer says the drills they had with them back in regular space doing close maneuvers give us an edge. Having two superdreadnoughts come through at once is worth the risk.” Under normal circumstances, ships would move through the nexus one at a time, to ensure survival. The occasional ship that brushed the edge of a nexus was never seen again.

  “According to the data we received eight days ago, there were two battleships guarding the nexus,” Davis said. “that’s a lot of weight for us to take on, but the corvettes already in-system are going to attempt a distraction when we arrive.”

  Clarke shook his head. “Makes me nervous when there are so many variables in an attack plan. Simpler is better, I always say.”

  “You’re right, Captain. But this time, we’d be chewed up and spit out if we tried the simple way. That big ship they have, the Ragnarok, is a serious threat all by itself. If we can’t knock it out or wound it, our chances of success are pretty slim.”

  * * *

  Brian entered the Emergency Operations Center and glanced around before striding over to Irish. “Any word on casualties from the raids?”

  “The teams that attacked the garrisons had twenty percent casualties–ten dead and thirty wounded. Haven’t heard back from the air fields yet.”

  “Ten dead doesn’t sound bad, unless you’re one of the dead,” Brian said, sitting at the Operations chief desk. “Once they get away from their objectives are they going to ground like we instructed?”

  Irish nodded. “All but one group. They’re in vehicles and making a beeline for the rebel base outside of Ennis. Can’t raise them on commo. I’d recommend evacuating the base, since the Alliance is probably tracking the team. Could get messy otherwise.”

  Brian gave a deep sigh while turning to the commo tech next to him. “Make it so, Edward.” He swung back towards Irish. “Damnit, are we going to keep running around the countryside until those slimy bastards pick us off one at a time?”

  “No way are they going to do that. Give it another day. Let’s see how our latest efforts pay off. If we can get the rest of the population behind us, we’ll eventually win.”

  “Yes, but at what cost?” Brian asked. He faced front, eyes staring at nothing.

  “Ten years from now, I want you to remember this conversation,” Irish said, eyeing his profile. “Freedom sometimes comes at a high cost. So don’t give in to the temptations that raise their ugly heads in the future. Shortcuts will put shackles on that freedom. And yes, it’s a high cost you’re paying for it, so guard it all the harder, man.”

  “Damn me, you’re doing it again,” Brian murmured with a glance at Irish. “You sure you don’t want to be a full-time politician?”

  A technician burst in the room. “Sir, we’ve got live feed from the Galway district. You’ve got to see this!”

  * * *

  “They just stopped, Sir,” the technician said.

  Captain Winters studied the array of satellites that had been slowly moving into new orbits around Eire. “How long’s this been going on?” he asked.

  “I’d say ‘bout an hour, Captain,” the Exec said. “I’ve sent a query to the Legislaturists, but they haven’t got back with me yet.”

  Haven strode in, and joined the group around the near-earth scanner. “What’s this about the satellites?”

  “Four of them have been relocating into new trajectories, Sir. Seem to
be clustering over Galway District. Can’t raise anyone planetside that knows anything about it.”

  Haven frowned, eyeing the screen. “How many of those satellites are ours?”

  The XO did a quick check. “None, Sir. Those are the solar power units for the government. Normally they’re scattered around the planet, but apparently they’ve been moving to their present location for some time. We just noticed it today.”

  A strobing pulse from the screen caught their full attention. Haven’s brow knitted. “What’s…”

  “Destroy them!” barked Winters. “There’s something wrong…”

  The order was seconds late. All four of the satellites erupted in a burst of light and flame. Twelve streaks knifed downward at over five thousand kilometers an hour, directly into the 41st Division’s location. A boiling cauldron of smoke and fire engulfed the area.

  Haven was the first to recover from the horrific scene. “Begin…” He cleared his throat, staring around the bridge. “Begin bombardment of all suspected rebel concentrations now,” he rasped.

  “Captain, there’s been an emergence flare from nexus two,” the Signals Officer barked. Whenever a ship exited N-space, a faster-than-light pulse was emitted.

  Haven and Winters both stared at the screen. “An hour,” muttered Winters. “We’ll get word from Bressling and Corona in an hour.”

  “When’s the Wolfshead Division due in?” Haven asked, eyes glued to the screen.

  “Not for another week,” Winters said, shaking his head.

  Haven gave a decisive nod. “That explains the timing of this bombardment. I think we’d better operate under the assumption that emergence was the Confederation.”

  Winters looked startled. “But Sir, we haven’t heard anything about an attack on the fourth star system.”

  “I should’ve thought of that,” Haven said. “They’ve bypassed the Grolier system, and come directly here.” He spun around, raising his voice. “Alert all ships–we’re now in a red alert. They will immediately move to Alpha Three formation.”

  He stared at the screen, a half-smile forming. “Welcome to Eire,” he murmured. “Come see the surprise I’ve got for you.”

  * * *

  “Thirty seconds to breakout, Captain,” the helm officer said.

  Clarke gave another scan of his monitor before turning to Admiral Davis. “Shields up, all weapons hot.”

  Davis nodded with a tight smile. “Time to earn our pay, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Clarke nodded, matching his smile. “See you on the other side, Sir.” He looked at the weapons officer. “Guns, you ready?”

  “Five seconds after we enter norm space I’ll have a lock, Sir.”

  “Do it sooner and you’ve got a week’s pass.”

  “Ten second countdown starting–now,” the helm officer said.

  Time dragged for Davis, each second seeming an hour in length. Suddenly, the blankness of N-space dissolved while they dropped into the Eire system.

  “Two targets zero degrees,” Nav barked.

  “Targets acquired; primary beam firing,” sang out the weapons officer. The Falcon shuddered. “All missiles away, on leftmost target.”

  “Bring ship to a 275 degree heading,” Clarke snapped.

  Abruptly the screens flared, then cleared. “What the hell?” Davis muttered. The enemy ship they’d just targeted slewed further to the left. Its force screens fluttered just as twelve missiles impacted it, and a giant fireball marked its demise. Again, screens flared and this time the battleship on the right began showing a flux in its shields just as a primary laser beam caught it dead center. Seconds later an explosion spelled its death.

  Within a minute all seventeen ships of the first wave had exited the nexus, moving quickly to each side of it.

  Davis glanced at Clarke, eyebrows raised. “Were those electromagnetic pulses that overloaded our systems?”

  “Yessir. I’d heard there was research into making an EMP beam, but didn’t think it’d ever happen. Not till now.”

  A small dot appeared on their screens as a ship dropped out of cloaking. “Ahoy there. This is the Erebus calling. We’ve just sent you an updated data dump on enemy deployments.”

  Davis keyed his comm before anyone else could react. “This is task force one. Thanks for the covering fire, Erebus. You might want to move about another light minute away. Space is going to get full of ships in the next few minutes.”

  “So we heard, man. Glad we could help. Gotta go, now.” The ship disappeared.

  Clarke shook his head. “Weird, Sir. Haven’t heard military radio procedure like that before.”

  Davis chuckled. “That’s because in all probability it wasn’t military. I think we just got assisted by one of the new spook ships the Confederation’s been working on.” He shook himself. “Enough gabbing. We’d better get organized. The next wave of ships is due anytime now, and there are two more after that.”

  Ninety minutes later the last wave of the task force had exited. “All ships, move to attack formation Bravo Tango.”

  A screenful of green dots coalesced into a wing formation, facing towards the star 35 light minutes from their present location.

  Davis nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent. Beat our last practice time by thirty seconds.” He turned to Clarke. “Pass on a ‘well done’ to them, and let’s move out.”

  * * *

  “Looks to be thirty-eight heavies and forty-five lighter ships in their battle line, Sir,” Captain Winters said.

  Haven continued staring at the screen a moment longer. How’d they been able to move through N-space in such close proximity? It went against the grain to do that. The slightest mistake, and you were dead. Plus he’d expected fewer superdreadnoughts. A lot fewer. He shook his head and looked away. “Have our ships meet them six light minutes beyond the second planet, Captain. Same formation as the enemy’s.”

  “Yes, Sir. When were you planning on closing the jaws to our trap?”

  “Good description,” Haven said with a grin. “We’ll hit them on their right flank once they’ve committed themselves to our battle line. Probably right after the first salvo of missiles.”

  Winters turned away. “I’ll pass on word, Sir.”

  Haven stared at the monitor, mind busy. At the enemy’s present rate of speed, they’d arrive in eight hours. His own ships would be in battle formation awaiting them within two hours. That left time for all his crews to get some rest and at their peak efficiency.

  He rubbed his neck, trying to ease the stress that had built up over the past several hours. “Captain, I’ll be in my quarters. Call me if anything comes up, or thirty minutes prior to contact.” He strode from the bridge, thoughts of sleep creeping into his mind.

  A muted chime sounded. Haven opened his eyes and stretched. He rolled out of bed, feeling more alert than he had in days. Seven solid hours of sleep had been just the ticket. Minutes later he entered the bridge. Other than the enemy’s battle line being closer, not much had changed. “Did you get some rest, Captain?” he asked.

  “Four hours, Sir. All systems green. We have twenty-five battleships, twenty-four battlecruisers and fourteen light cruisers in Alpha Three formation.”

  “Good. I suggest we have them begin moving slowly to the rear when the enemy’s within four light minutes of them.”

  “Yes, Sir. And may I make a suggestion concerning the ships in hiding?”

  At Haven’s nod he continued. “Let’s have them attack fifteen seconds before the battle lines reach optimum missile range. That should cause them to lose focus at the most critical time.”

  Haven cocked his head, and smiled. “I like it. Very good, Captain. Let our hideaways know, will you?”

  “Roger. Are you still planning on keeping the Ragnarok in high orbit?”

  “I think that’s best. The closer in we can bring them, the more devastating it will be when we move Ragnarok into the attack.”

&n
bsp; Haven searched the screen a moment. “Hm. No Wasps yet.”

  “Probably waiting to see how we deploy ours, Sir,” Winters said.

  “Then let’s not keep them in suspense, Captain. Have all ships launch their Vipers. Keep them in a screen above and below our formation, one light-minute out.”

  Within minutes the screen’s depiction of the attack formation had a scattering of small dots above and below it. “Sir, do you want the rest of the Vipers to come up from the planet? We’ve only got forty deployed at the moment.”

  He shook his head. “No, that should be enough. We’ll only be using them to keep the Wasps from becoming too much of a nuisance.” He nodded at the screen. “You were right, Captain. Their Wasps are coming out now.”

  Winters’ eyebrows raised. “Looks as if they’re a little lighter than we expected on Wasps. Only counted forty-eight.”

  “Two minutes to missile range,” called the Nav officer.

  Haven leaned forward, intently watching the screen. “Soon as our ships appear on their flank, have our ships target the left side of the line first.”

  The fleets continued closing, the Confederation ships at three gravs, while the Alliance ships drifted to the rear at less than half a grav. “Thirty seconds,” Winters said, a smile on his face.

  * * *

  “Thirty seconds before missile lock,” called the weapons officer. Admiral Davis glanced at Captain Clarke. “You sure about the timing, Captain?”

  “Yessir. Ten seconds before we reached extreme missile range.” He scanned his board one last time. “Helm, order all ships to do maneuver Baker ten seconds from–now.”

  A visual count-down began on everyone’s screen. At zero, all ships came to a complete stop, just as a group of ships appeared from the asteroids to their starboard. “Enemy sighted, starboard. Moving at four gravs,” sang out Nav.

  Ten dreadnoughts and twenty heavy cruisers darted from the rear of the formation to meet them. Just before reaching firing range, two hundred Wasps appeared as if from nowhere and fell upon the rear of the ten battleships, a blizzard of missiles ripping into them. Even though these were lighter missiles than the shipkillers carried by larger ships, they could cause damage to a battleship if its shields weren’t at full strength.