The Landfall Campaign (The Nameless War)

by Edmond Barrett

Ahead of them the next wave of missiles was launching, while astern space lit up as the guns of Kite String’s escort opened fire.

  07:48 Hrs Douglas Base time

  “Point defence, commence, commence, commence,” Crowe said quietly. In an instant Deimos’s terminal defence guns started to track and fire. The flak guns had been going for over a minute now. The three salvos the Nameless had thrown into their faces had been pretty substantial, but this kind of single axis, narrow fire corridor presented little threat. In fact the Nameless had by now seen Deimos and her sister ships often enough to know that against this kind of fire a flak cruiser could put out enough metal to block any number of missiles. To actually get some through, the Nameless would need to fire from multiple directions to thin the density of counter fire, which so far they weren’t doing. If experience had taught Crowe any damn thing it was that while the Nameless might be merciless, brutal and at times frighteningly indifferent to losses, they weren’t stupid.

  As he was thinking, the last half dozen missiles were stopped several thousand kilometres short of the convoy. He watched the holo waiting for the next salvo to appear through the fighter screen.

  “Tactical, bridge.”

  “Bridge here,” Crowe replied, “what have you got for me?”

  “Enemy ships have checked fire and are now redeploying. They’re breaking into three equal groups, going high, low and to starboard. Several escorts are retreating after the non-combatants. Estimate they have experienced ammunition exhaustion and are moving to resupply.”

  “Do you have an estimate on now long they need to rearm?” Crowe asked.

  “Estimate two hours plus transit.”

  “Guess they didn’t count on us being able to take everything they could throw at us,” said Lieutenant Colwell.

  Counting? That was probably it. “No,” Crowe said out loud. “Our formation’s too tight. They couldn’t make out who’s who. Now they know who’s escort and who’s transport.”

  “It cost them a lot of ammunition doing even that, sir,” Colwell said. “Tactical says that assuming the majority of their ships had full magazines they’ve blown off in the region of half their ammunition. The escorts will have used pretty much all of their cap ship missiles.”

  “That same could be said of us.” Crowe replied. “If we have more than fifty rounds per mount left by the time we leave, I’ll personally eat one of them.”

  “Coms, bridge.”

  “Report.”

  “Commodore, the enemy powered down the jammers they have in orbit a few minutes ago. The enemy capital ship has started making FTL transmissions.”

  “That was to be expected coms.”

  “Yes sir, but we’ve just started picking up what look to be replies.”

  “Any idea on range?”

  There was a long pause across the link as coms cross-referenced previous incidents. “Sir, the system is estimating the transmitter is between two and seven hours away. The signal is getting stronger so it’s on approach.”

  That was definitely an ominous sign Crowe thought. He’d hoped that the taskforce that was now slowly spreading out in front of them was it. Certainly the scout ship didn’t give them much of a heads up but he had been starting to wonder whether the Nameless hadn’t been able or willing to get more ships back to Landfall. That was now starting to feel like a receding best-case scenario.

  “Erm…”

  “What is it, coms?” Crowe asked.

  “Sir, the Douglas Base FTL transmitter has just come online.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “Erm… nothing. It’s just noise and they keep shifting bands. They’re trying to transmit on the same band as the Nameless. I’m not sure…”

  Crowe brought up the coms panel on his own screen and immediately saw what the communications section was missing. The shelter wasn’t trying to talk to them, instead it was using its own transmitter to chase and jam the transmissions from the Nameless warships. Someone down on the ground had their head screwed on.

  “Coms, bridge. Commodore, we have hook up from Admiral Kennedy on Horus.”

  “Put it through to my chair.”

  Kennedy’s lean and angular face appeared on the command chair screen.

  “Commodore, are you aware of the enemy FTL transmissions?” the Admiral began without preamble.

  “Yes sir. My communications section picked them up a few minutes ago, and the replies.”

  “Well I’ll bet my left nut that they have reinforcements on the way and if the ones that are already here are holding back that means they’re going to get here in time to pile on. How’s your ammunition holding up?”

  “We’ve gone through about four percent so far sir. Believe me, we’ve learned from experience to keep the shooting short and sharp.”

  “Good. I think we’ve got a quiet spot until heavy cover withdraws or their reinforcements arrive. This was just the warm up. Stay sharp Commodore. I’ll be moving Deimos to wherever the heat is.”

  10:15 Hrs Douglas Base time

  Too late the SS Gembel’s single point defence gun managed to kill the missile’s engine as it charged in but its ballistic course took it straight into the freighter’s unprotected flank. She was close enough for Deimos to have a visual and Crowe saw the explosion rip clear through the ship. As her back broke, her bow and stern twisted independently of each other. Watching the ship die, Crowe realised he could hear someone shouting across the general channel.

  “This is Gembel. We’re breaking up! All hands, abandon ship! Abandon shi…” Then across the channel came the unmistakeable bang of an explosive decompression and the voice cut off.

  Crowe could only pray that the unknown speaker had his suit and helmet on when the hull breached. If he hadn’t, well that was one mistake he wouldn’t make again, Crowe thought to himself as he watched escape pods starting to detach from the wreck and a pair of shuttles from Buffalo heading in to attempt to rescue those who couldn’t make it to a pod. The slowly disintegrating ship continued to coast along, holding her place in the formation. Like a dead man walking.

  The pause in the fighting had ended almost as soon as Heavy Cover started its withdrawal. Admiral Hyland detached half that force’s fighters to pursue the Nameless support ships. Maybe they’d catch them, maybe they wouldn’t but if the support ships had to keep running, that would be enough to keep the enemy ships that had run out of ammunition off the board. The Nameless combat units that remained were now flying parallel to the convoy and firing carefully timed salvoes, resulting in numerous missiles entering the escorts’ range on multiple vectors. Most were stopped short but some got through. USS Florida was the first to go, struck by a cap ship missile that found its way through point defence fire to score a direct hit on her stern quarter, completely obliterating her propulsion systems. Once the survivors got off, the heavy cruiser Amun put her down with two railgun rounds. The SS Archer was next. She’d been carrying artillery ammunition so when a pair of general-purpose missiles went into her main cargo bay, a single rippling explosion tore her apart. Now Gembel. The outright losses weren’t the end of it, with another half dozen ships were carrying damage, including two of the escorts. Still by tactical’s estimates the Nameless were down to the dregs of their ammunition. Painful as the losses might have been, by the time they reached Landfall orbit, and the most difficult stage of the mission, the Nameless would have largely shot their bolt.

  “Coms, have we had any word from Thoth?” Crowe called out.

  “Yes sir. Her bridge has been wiped out. She’s now under the command of her number two. They report as still combat worthy.”

  There was a time when a report like that would have been accompanied by a pause, even a momentary one, just to acknowledge the men and women wearing the same uniform who didn’t exist any more. But Deimos’s crew were too hardened for that and their focus on the job in hand didn’t waver.

  “Sensors, bridge!” came a fresh shout, “multiple fresh contacts ha
ve just jumped in bearing one, nine, three dash zero, one, one. Range, one point two light seconds.”

  On the main holo a tight cluster of blips appeared relatively close to the icons of the retreating Heavy Cover.

  “Tactical. Can you I.D. the fresh contacts?” Crowe asked.

  “Yes sir. We’re reading three capital ships, seven cruisers and ten escorts, sir.”

  “That’s a bad blunder for them. They’ve come out way too close,” Crowe commented to no one in particular. Admiral Hyland had seen the chance to close to gun range and unencumbered by the convoy, Fortitude was leading the charge. The Nameless were turning away from him, and the convoy.

  ___________________________

  10:33 Hrs Douglas Base time

  Eulenburg forced himself to remain in his office. The last thing the personnel in Four C needed to see was their commander roaming around like a cat on hot bricks. The orbital jammers had come back online when the Nameless reinforcements arrived, so now they were back to an occasional radio transmission. It was not enough to get a clear picture, but sufficient to know that at least some of the supplies they so desperately needed weren’t going to make it.

  “They’ve lost at least two ships so far, sir,” Captain Gillum said, “maybe more, but we’ve definitely picked up radiation spikes from two reactor breaches.”

  “Thank you Captain. Are we ready up stairs?”

  “We have work parties mustered in the surface dugouts. There are a couple of other things, sir.”

  “Well?” asked Eulenburg asked sharply.

  “The troops at the frontline are reporting increased activity, mostly shellfire and mortars.”

  “Which sector?”

  “All of them, sir,” Gillum replied grimly, “They aren’t going to break through anywhere but…”

  “It makes recovery of the drop more difficult.”

  “…and that’s not the worst of it. The orbital jammers are definitely increasing their output on the radio bands. They’re starting to blot out the guidance beacons. If the convoy can’t pick up our homing signal, the supplies are going to be spread across half the contin…”

  “I know Captain!” Eulenburg snapped as he glared at Gillum, “How long until the convoy arrives?”

  “It will make orbital insertion in two hours, forty minutes, sir. It looks like they’re going to the Chinese base. I guess then the Americans and us will be last.”

  “Launch the fighters in two hours. Deliver a message by laser link that they’ll have to take out the jammers.”

  ___________________________

  11:09 Hrs Douglas Base time

  “Skipper, we’re getting a transmission from the flagship. The space gate is shifting position to put Breaker’s Rock between us and them,” Schurenhofer reported as Dubious accelerated away from the hangar of the auxiliary cruiser Buffalo, her missile racks and magazines refilled. Astern Curious was just clearing the hatch, while off to starboard another pair of fighters was holding station, waiting for their turn to rearm. The space around the convoy was periodically lit up by spasms of firing.

  “Signal from the flag skipper. We’re to sweep the blind side of Breaker’s Rock and take out the gate.”

  “Understood,” Alanna replied. “Curious, form up on my wing.”

  The two fighters crossed through the escort perimeter, weaving to avoid the starships’ firing lanes. Several times they got close enough to see damaged ships with the naked eye. On her tactical display she could see a handful of Nameless ships still keeping pace with the convoy. Although it had taken losses, Nameless resistance hadn’t been as strong as she’d expected. The aliens had warning of the convoy, so surely more ships should have been present? Still the day was young and the two fighters continued to angle away from the convoy.

  “Skipper, I’m getting an anomalous reading from that lump of rock,” Schurenhofer said suddenly.

  “What kind of anomaly?” Alanna asked sharply. The last anomaly had nearly ended badly.

  “Err, heat. Residual heat. Not much though,” Schurenhofer replied.

  “There shouldn’t be any. That rock was parked months ago,” Alanna said before flicking on the radio. “Dubious to Deimos, we have detected an unusual reading from Breaker’s Rock, we’re going to investigate it.”

  “Could be trying to pull the same trick they tried at Junction,” Schurenhofer pointed out. Twenty thousand kilometres off to Dubious’s port, transports continued to file passed. Alanna made no reply. If Schurenhofer was correct, then no problem - the range was too long for those little missile packs to be a problem. The trick might be spotting them. Ravens didn’t carry surface mapping radar and a visual inspection would mean holding a straight course for several minutes. She was still thinking when Dubious’s threat detection system went off.

  Alanna didn’t waste time wondering. Instead she threw Dubious into a violent corkscrew. On her radar screen fresh contacts appeared, all coming from Breaker’s Rock. But they weren’t the small dual-purpose missiles she’d expected - many of them were cap ship missiles!

  “I think we’ve lost Curious!” Schurenhofer shouted.

  “Deimos! There are weapon batteries on Breaker’s Rock!” she shouted into the radio as the first missiles flashed past. Dozens more streamed out of the asteroid as she desperately worked the controls. Beside her Schurenhofer worked at an equally frantic pace as Dubious’s turrets spat fire in all directions and the dispensers laid down clouds of chaff. On her screen more missiles appeared and headed straight for Kite String.

  All across the convoy escorts found themselves faced with a sudden wave of new contacts. On every warship fire control computers attempted to reprioritise their targets as gun turrets swung to bear. The process took seconds. It took too long.

  The heavy cruiser Horus, flagship of Light Cover, was on the starboard side of the convoy. Her main guns were still swinging to bear and her single flak gun had fired less than a half dozen rounds before four Cap Ship missiles slammed in. The ship, Admiral Kennedy and his entire crew disappeared in a flash as both its reactors breached. Yet this was only the start of a ninety-second long holocaust. On board Deimos, Crowe watched in horrified disbelief as the storm broke on the starboard flank. The icons for Horus, the auxiliary cruiser Buffalo, the destroyer Cavalier and the transports Tradewind, Bengal, Van Ellen, Keying, Nooth, Omach, Jupiter Star and Horizon all disappeared within seconds of each other, to be replaced by the icons for wreckage.

  “Bridge! Sensors! Skipper, that was eighteen Cap Ship missiles and twenty-five dual purpose missiles.”

  “Bridge, tactical. Reload time on those missiles is four and half minutes.”

  “Tactical, sensors, understood,” Crowe snapped back as he stared at the waking nightmare on his holo. The escort on that side was completely gone and with it the convoy commander. The surviving escorts were floundering without command, some holding position, others like the auxiliary cruiser Wildebeest trying to fill the gap. Suddenly a horrible realisation struck Crowe that for a moment froze him. With Admiral Kennedy dead, he was now in command. As he stared at the holo he saw where the next part of the crisis would unfold. With the starboard flank destroyed the troop transports USS New York and HMSS Courageous, two of the most important ships of the convoy, were completely exposed, with nothing between them and Breaker’s Rock.

  “Helm, engines all back full! Put us between Breaker’s Rock and the troop transports,” Crowe shouted across the command net. “Fire Control, direct all fire onto Breaker’s! Suppress those missile batteries!”

  Deimos two plasma cannon turrets were the first to respond to his commands, to be joined seconds later by the flak guns pouring fire onto the asteroid. There were some secondary explosions but the sheer bulk of asteroid meant all they were achieving was forcing the Nameless missile batteries to remain buttoned up.

  Breaker’s wasn’t some inert lump of rock like they’d assumed. The bloody Nameless had fortified it, probably to protect their space gate. And now B
attle Fleet had gone and obligingly sailed a convoy within striking distance of what was effectively a star fort! Yet as he looked at the carnage that had been wreaked upon them and Deimos’s guns continued to hammer away, it dawned on Crowe that they’d been lucky.

  The Nameless ships were virtually out of missiles. Their reinforcements had been forced to scatter. If they reached the convoy it would be as individual ships, not an overwhelming force. If they’d had ships in a position to press the advantage, it could have been a massacre.

  12.50 Hrs Douglas Time

  As Kite String made orbital insertion the convoy shifted from cruising formation into drop stations. In high orbit the escorts formed an umbrella with Deimos at the apex, their engines straining as they strove to hold position over the transports. A handful of fighters from the two shelters rose from the planet and joined the battle, slotting into position with the rest. Starting ten kilometres below the escort were the ships whose cargo was destined for the other shelters. At the bottom were those ships that ready to deliver.

  Eulenburg’s warning had been received and heeded. Positioned on the flank of the escort screen, the heavy cruiser Amun was still carrying her original secondary armament, a pair of fifteen centimetre railguns. Within Amun’s fire control centre, calculations were being run to use Landfall’s gravity. Amidst all the high technology, the projectiles Amun fired were little more than space age cannonballs, sent curving round the planet. But against these solid lumps of metal, the Nameless’s escort satellites, the ones that had bled Landfalls fighters, were helpless. Railgun rounds, delivered at the rate of three to a jammer, smashed through the cloud of missiles put up by the jammers and reduced all six of them to chaff. With their destruction the homing beacons for Douglas and Endeavour Bases could be heard loud and clear, but from Anshan there was only silence.

  From the Chinese troop ship Beijing, ship-to-ship shuttles and one-man drop pods started to descend from the hangars. Hundreds of volunteers landed around what had been the site of the Anshan shelter, to assist anyone who had got out. But for the rest of the convoy there was no further reason to linger, so they shifted orbit to cross over Endeavour.