Admiral's War Part Two (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 10)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “If you think we’ve seen this ship before then no, Sir,” said the Comm. Officer, “I can’t get you decoded transmissions, but I’ve isolated their rotation pattern and tracked them back to their lead ship.”

  “Well, well, well,” the Reclamation Fleet Commodore said with satisfaction, “if it isn’t our old friend from the outer system. Tactical!” he barked.

  “Here, Sir,” said the other officer.

  “Contact the other Destroyers and lay in a course. Our target is the enemy’s light forces flagship. It’s time to remove their commander from the calculations,” he said.

  “Aye aye,” he replied.

  Chapter Fifty-two: Klinging to Hope

  “Hold them. Hold them!” cried Kling as the Perseverance flew like an eagle through the storm of laser fire that was overtaking the back end of the Cruiser force.

  “Enemy Destroyer off the port bow!” cried Tactical moments before that very enemy opened fire.

  “Sir, how much longer do we have to hold? We can’t stand much more of this,” cried the ship’s XO.

  “I’ve got another one to starboard,” reported Sensors.

  “Just a little bit longer, boys and girl!” We’ve got to keep them off our Cruisers,” Commodore Kling said with fire in his eyes.

  “It’s getting kind of dicey in here, Commodore,” reported the Helm.

  “Call for support!” Kling barked.

  “I’ve got another one above and below. That makes it four enemy warships! We’re boxed in, sir,” cried the Tactical Officer.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” Kling snapped, “and get the rest of the squadron over here.”

  “The Roving Banana says they’re thirty seconds out and moving to assist, Sir,” reported Com.

  On the screen, all four enemy Destroyers swooped closer before giving an engine burning turn and unveiling their broadsides.

  “Too late—they’re closing in!” screamed Sensors right before the enemy Destroyers got their angle and opened fire.

  “We can make it! We can make it! Evasive maneuvers now!” Kling roared. “We only have to last another fifteen seconds and we’ll have some support!”

  The little Corvette twisted like a leaf in the wind, bucking and writhing for her life amid constant criss-crossing laser fire.

  “Enemy Cruisers are closing on the Little Gift,” reported Tactical, “Commodore LeGodat is calling for all available support.”

  “I’m a little busy here if you hadn’t noticed. LeGodat’s just going to have to fend for himself,” shouted Kling.

  The Perseverance fired her light lasers at the enemy, but with only one Corvette against four Destroyers it was like bringing a bb gun to a pistol fight. Hit after hit landed against them and it was clear they were on the short end of the exchange.

  “Shield system is down,” reported the Shield Operator, “the generator is fried. We’re going to need an engineering party out on the hull to see if we can affect repairs.”

  Kling rounded on him. “Do what you can but I’m not about to send an repair team out in—”

  It felt like the little Corvette was hit by the hammer of the gods, and the bridge suddenly decompressed as the front of the Corvette was torn off by a blinding flash of incoming fire.

  Officers and crew that were standing or hadn’t strapped themselves in securely were sucked out the newly-made hole. Of those who had secured themselves but hadn’t sealed their skin-suits cold space began to take its terrible toll.

  “The Commodore! Someone see to the Commodore! His suit’s been compromised,” cried Shield Operator while gaping at the long, jagged shard of duralloy sticking through Kling’s suit and midsection.

  “They’re coming around for another pass!” screamed Sensors as his console booted back up.

  Looking around wildly, the XO pulled his personal hand com-link out of his belt.

  “All hands, this is the XO. All hands abandon ship. I say again: all hands abandon ship! Get to the escape pods,” he shouted.

  Chapter Fifty-three: Led by the nose

  “We just took a hit! Main engine is down, Commodore,” shouted Stravinsky, “if there’s some kind of secret plan in the works it had better be soon, Sir.”

  Commodore LeGodat ignored the Commander and stared at the screen. The Amalgamated Fleet Cruisers had been savaged. Run to ground and savaged, although the Reclamation Fleet didn’t know that first part.

  “Know yourself and you can win some battles and lose others, but know both the enemy and yourself and you can win a thousand,” the Confederation Commodore said, his eyes glued to the battle plot. The Gift was lagging behind but that was only to be expected now that she was down to one engine working at just forty percent—and they only had that much thanks to emergency battle repairs.

  “We’re not winning anything, Sir. Commodore!” shouted Stravinsky, “we’re falling out of formation. Either do something or I have to order all hands to the escape pods and begin an evacuation.”

  LeGodat stared at the plot, ignoring the Commander as sixteen of his remaining twenty one Cruisers moved out of the red zone and into the yellow. The other five—including the Gift—were still solidly in danger zone.

  “That’s it,” Stravinsky said stalking away her face strained, “this is the Captain. All hands prepare to abandon ship. I say again—”

  “No. Keep them at their posts, Commander,” Commodore LeGodat said, his voice cutting across the din.

  “I will not ask our people to die for a hopeless cause. This ship is going down. Myself, the bridge crew, and a skeletal staff in Gunnery and Main Engineering can keep her together until the rest of the crew can—”

  “They’ll just die out there, Commander. No. Keep them here; they’ll have a better chance,” he said as two more Cruisers entered the yellow. They were still at risk from stray shots, but this was the best he could hope for.

  “Die from what?” demanded Stravinsky. “We’re still a good three minutes away from the kill zone.”

  “Operational security, Commander; we’re already here. Not even our staffs knew the exact coordinates in case of a mole or intelligence breech.” He turned to the Comm. Department, “Activate Orion. I say again: Orion is go. Operation Orion is a go! Go! Go! Go!”

  “Transmitting Code Orion now!” said the Comm. Officer with surprise as he keyed in the activation sequence.

  Like the maestro of a murderous symphony—one whose music was nearly as liable to destroy him as it was to reward him—LeGodat waved his arms at the table as the battle plot exploded.

  Automated gunboats, popup missile launchers, and a mixture of Starfire, friend-or-foe, fire-and-forget, an assorted other aged sprint missiles exploded to life all over the screen.

  “Take that, Admiral!” LeGodat slammed his fist down on the table as nearly half of the enemy’s remaining Destroyers and three fourths of her Cruisers were caught in the hellish crossfire. “We bled for this and now it’s your turn,” he growled, glaring savagely at the largest knot of enemy Cruisers—where the Admiral in charge of their Cruisers, and presumably the lighters warships as well, was most likely located.

  Chapter Fifty-four: Caught Out

  “I’ve got more than sixteen hundred individual sensor tracks,” shouted Sensors.

  “The Fusion of Humanity is down. I say again: Fusion of Humanity is down! She’s venting atmo and ejecting her fusion cores,” reported Damage Control.

  “I’m reading popup gunboats dragging in swarms of missiles. The Hard Glory is being targeted by over one hundred enemy missiles and four gunboats, Admiral,” cried his Cruiser Operations Officer.

  “Blast it! All lasers in the fleet are to prioritize point defense. And all ships make a wheel—nose to stern! Nose to stern; we’ve got to cover one another,” barked Vice Admiral Benson.

  “Aye aye,” said Com Officer relaying the orders in an elevated, almost shrill voice.

  “Lieutenant Sands’ recommendation?” Benson barked.

  The very young-looking
young woman swallowed audibly and then nodded. “We need to launch the Nellies, Admiral,” she said and then grimly added, “all of them.”

  “You heard the woman,” Benson snarled rounding on the Comm. Officer only to be interrupted as the flagship took a hit before continuing, “all ships are to launch their Nervous Nellies!”

  First one ship, and then two—starting with the Cruiser Flagship—launched their high-tech jammers. Even more ships followed suit until it became almost impossible, even for ships with Imperial tech, to communicate with each other.

  “Command and control data-links are down, Vice Admiral,” reported Coms, “and voice transmissions are following.”

  Benson stared at the plot as half the missiles targeting the flagship suddenly seemed to lose their way and then change course to hit the Nervous Nellies.

  He started to nod his head with relief until he saw that the other half of those infernal projectiles were still on target.

  “Curse it. Sands. We need to do something about those other missiles. Have the Nervous Nellies rotate their frequency,” he snapped.

  Lieutenant Sands tapped away on her console and then tapped again.

  “Now, Lieutenant!” he ordered.

  “I’m trying, sir,” she said before looking back up at the Admiral with a white face, “I’m afraid changing the frequency won’t work. The computer just confirmed the missile’s make and model. They’re a fifty year old fire-and-forget model. They’re not very effective at long ranges but once they lock on at close range they’re hard to shake. Frankly, the older style jammers used by the locals might be more effective than our Nellies against this kind of older tech.”

  With his coms and sensors down by his own hand, there was nothing left to do but try and ride it out. He’d been suckered in and played for a fool.

  Benson slammed his fist down on the table, and fifteen seconds later twenty five missiles slammed into the side of his flagship.

  Chapter Fifty-five: The Imperial Flag Bridge

  “No.” Janeski stood, hands down at his sides and clenching into fists with surprise—surprise which was followed by pure rage as half of his entire Cruiser force and half his remaining Destroyers went up in flames in an instant.

  Explosions rocked the screen where it wasn’t concealed by his own side’s last ditch attempt to mitigate the situation by launching jammers to counter the enemy missiles at close range.

  Then, no sooner had the missiles expended their fury and Nervous Nellies started to deactivate, than the enemy Cruiser force—at least that portion which was still able to maneuver—came about and lunged back into the area.

  Like a rabid chihuahua going for the throat of a great mastiff that had just been hit by a bus, the locals showed no mercy as they charged back into the carnage-filled scene.

  “Jason Montagne!” he roared, picking up a slate and slamming it against the wall. “Son of Man! Sound the retreat and tell those Cruisers and Destroyers to pull back toward the main force,” Janeski swore.

  “Forty three Cruisers and seventy two Destroyers have been critically damaged or destroyed in the blast,” reported Damage Control sounding nothing less than shocked.

  “It wasn’t a blast. It was a surprise attack and we walked right into it,” Janeski roared. He bared his teeth at the main screen.

  “The surviving enemy Cruisers, Destroyers and Corvettes are moving in pursuit,” reported Tactical.

  “If it’s a fight he wants then it’s a fight he’ll get,” said Janeski, “I’m done playing here. All ships are to form up on the flagship as they are able. Captain Goddard, you are to move the Invictus Rising to attack range of that Starbase.”

  “That does nothing for the Cruisers and Destroyers that are still under attack,” Goddard pointed out clinically.

  “Dispatch the Battleships to deal with the Cruisers. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll turn and run before our heavies can reach them and then we’ll pull them back into supporting range. Just tell Admiral Norfolk to keep his ship between the flagship and their Battleships at all times. He can hold them off if they come out, and we’ll use the main cannon to vaporize their precious Starbase,” he said severely.

  “Aye, Sir,” said the Captain.

  “I also want half our fighters and all our bombers launched. It’s time for some long-range strikes,” he snapped.

  Chapter Fifty-six: Admiral’s Choices

  “Yes!” I crowed. I couldn’t help it. The fleet under my command had taken blow after blow without letup or relief. The Imperials had swept through the outer system. They’d hammered our Corvettes, then they’d hammered our Destroyers. They’d even hammered our Cruisers. Finally, after all that, we’d gotten some payback.

  “ComCap Franklin Littlefoot signals that in the absence of new orders he intends to continue to engage the enemy and press home the attack,” reported Lieutenant Steiner.

  I suppressed a frown, “Franklin Littlefoot?”

  “Of the New Martian Defense League,” she explained. “He’s the senior surviving officer among the Cruiser force—or at least he thinks he is.”

  “What about Commodore LeGodat? Or Kling for that matter? Put Kling in charge,” I said.

  “The status of both Commodores is currently unknown,” she reported, “the Little Gift has been severely damaged by both the enemy ships and our own missile attack; it’s currently showing no coordinated emissions at present. The Perseverance, Commodore Kling’s ship, was apparently destroyed by Imperial Destroyers before reaching the kill zone.”

  “Sweet crying Murphy,” I said angrily, “what’s the status on our light warships?”

  “Primarch Glue has taken temporary command of the formation and called for a full retreat back to Wolf-9. He reports that many of his remaining ships are heavily damaged and no longer combat effective,” said Steiner after a moment.

  I glared at the holo-screen, where our battered Cruisers were taking the battle back to the enemy while our surviving light ships fled back to wolf. Pulling up a battle plot and zooming out, I looked at the main Imperial Reclamation Fleet.

  Our Cruisers could do more damage now that the enemy Cruisers were shocked, reeling, and on their heels—but Janeski was closing in. As I watched, the Battleships separated from the Command Carrier on a course to relieve their Cruisers, while the Imperial Flagship was launching fighters like there was no tomorrow.

  My eyes narrowed in contemplation. While the Battleships were going forward, every other warship that was outside of the kill zone was pulling back on a course for the Imperial Command Carrier.

  “Tell the ComCap to hold for another five minutes and then pull back to Wolf-9—he is to retreat before the enemy Battleships can get to him, and then he is to get his ships in order,” I ordered.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  I stared at the screen as the enemy Battleships continued to separate from their flagship.

  This was our chance—I couldn’t waste it dithering around.

  “Message to the squadron,” I said turning to spit out orders, “all MSP Battleships are to form up on the Royal Rage and set course for the Command Carrier—and prepare their ships to initiate the Montagne Maneuver on my mark. We will maintain this course and speed until we are able engage the enemy, Montagne out.”

  “Sir, are you…” started Captain Hammer.

  “Yes.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral,” she nodded.

  “Someone get me Admiral Dark Matter on the horn,” I snapped.

  ****************************************************

  “This is Rear Admiral Dark Matter,” said the other man as soon as he appeared on my screen.

  “This is Admiral Montagne,” I said abruptly.

  “I see you’ve changed course. What can I do for you, Admiral?” asked Dark Matter.

  “I need you to take your force out of Wolf and engage the enemy, Rear Admiral,” I ordered.

  Dark Matter ran a hand over his face. “You know the tech dispari
ty between our Battleships and theirs, Sir. We won’t last long up against those Battleships.”

  “You’ll last a darned sight longer against them than you will once that Command Carrier gets within range,” I retorted.

  “Moving against the enemy Battleships will take us within range of the Command Carrier,” pointed out Dark Matter.

  “All the better, as they have a fire rate of around fifteen minutes. It will allow my force to get within firing range,” I said with a shark-like smile.

  Dark Matter frowned. “There are a lot of skittish ship commanders over here,” he said, his face growing long.

  “Then tell them to get themselves together, man. Orion is already in motion!” I barked furiously. “Right now the enemy’s main force is separated from their flagship, but as soon as our Cruisers pull back those Battleships of theirs will go right back to guarding Invictus Rising. We’ll never get another chance like this. I’m going to take my squadron and tie down that Command Carrier or die trying. Move to attack and immediately pull them back within the base defenses if you have to! I don’t care how you do it, but keep those enemy Battleships off us while we try to deal with that Carrier.”

  “Aye aye, Sir,” said Dark Matter.

  I cut the connection, my eyes turning flinty. Whether or not the rest of the 25th Amalgamated turned coward at this critical stage, it was too late for regrets. We were surrounded, there was nowhere to run to, and hiding at Wolf would only last for a short time longer.

  Now was the time: we had to swing around and attack with everything we had left.

  It was our only option.

  “Whisker laser message the Jumble Carriers and tell them to ignore anything that leaves the Command Carrier aimed at Wolf. I need them to do everything they can to keep those Imperial fighters off us once we get close,” I ordered.

  “Not a problem, Sir,” replied Steiner.