by Daniel Gibbs
“You’ll know what to do once you analyze what went wrong here. Create a new plan; Seville showed his cards. Take another crack at this station, and you will defeat him. I know you can handle this assignment. Your name was mentioned recently as a candidate for brigadier general. You can salvage this mess. Search within yourself, call upon God. Find your footing and rally the fleet.”
“Yes, sir…I’ll do my best,” David managed to stammer.
“I am sure you will, Colonel. Don’t forget that Seville’s Achilles heel is his overconfidence. There is a weakness in this nasty new weapon of his. Find it. Make the fleet work together, make Saurian and Human work together. It has been an honor and a privilege to serve with you, and this entire fleet. Walk with God, Colonel.”
“Yes, sir,” David replied simply. I’m so sick of our people honorably dying to serve the cause. Before Kartal could say something else, David stood, still in view of the camera that serviced the video link. He brought himself to attention and raised his hand to his brow, smartly saluting the admiral. “Sir, it’s been an honor to serve with you as well. May we meet again someday.”
Through the link, David could see Kartal stand. He brought his substantial Saurian hand up and saluted in the human style; Saurians generally saluted with the palm out, but this was a sign of respect. “Thank you, Colonel. Good luck and Godspeed. Kartal out.”
David sat down as the vidlink blinked off. The bridge was silent, and he could feel the apprehension that swept through the officers and enlisted crewmembers alike. “Navigation, bring the ship about. Plot a course out of here that mirrors the path the fleet is taking through the hole swept by our missile cruisers.”
“Aye aye, sir, plotting course,” Rachel said, her tone unsure.
“TAO, firing point procedures, all Starbolt missiles. Make them ready in all respects, and open outer missile doors. Stand by for XYZ firing coordinates.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth said.
“Communications, get me Colonel Amir.”
“One moment, sir,” Taylor responded. “I’ve got him now, sir, on your personal viewer.”
Amir’s helmeted face popped onto David’s viewer. “Thank Allah, Colonel. It’s good to see you.”
“Same here, Colonel Amir. How bad is it?”
“The Lion’s wing took forty-five percent losses, sir. Bad doesn’t begin to describe it. ‘Devastating’ might be a better word. I can’t find my XO. I think she’s dead.”
David shook his head. “I’m sorry, Amir. I know she’s been with you for years.”
“The League will pay for this!” Amir suddenly snapped, his voice full of anger.
“Yes, they will. But now I need you to put that aside and get everyone back safe. Since you don’t have five hundred megaton proximity fusion warheads, you need to find a different way to get back home safely.”
“I saw the traffic, sir. I’ve got an idea. I’m going to form us up and have everyone that’s left fill space in front of them with sustained neutron beam fire. We’ll, in effect, plow the field.”
David nodded his approval. “I like it, Colonel. Get as many back safely as you can. Don’t mix it up with the incoming League ships. They’re moving through that field like its nothing, so those mines likely have an IFF detector. Engaging the League formations would be suicide.”
“Understood and acknowledged, Colonel Cohen. Amir out.”
Amir’s image blinked out on his monitor, and David returned his gaze to the tactical plot. The allied fleet was making good on forming up behind the missile cruisers, and he saw, much to his relief, that Ruth’s ad hoc mine-sweeping trick was working.
Aibek’s deep voice startled David, as he was intently studying the plot. “Colonel, permission to retake my station?”
David glanced up, a wide grin breaking out on his face as relief washed over him. Seeing the Saurian back on his feet so quickly after being knocked out was a fortuitous turn of events. “Nice timing, XO. Take your seat.”
Aibek nodded and walked over to the XO’s chair, gingerly sitting down. “What’d I miss, sir?”
“The League has an interesting new weapon… Stealth mines. We can’t see them until they activate, and our automated point defense isn’t flagging them as a threat. They knew exactly where and how to hit us. Colonel, did Doctor Tural clear you for duty?” David realized as he was talking that Aibek had a nasty wound on his head, and it was wrapped in a compression dressing. The latest in medical technology, it was infused with healing agents which would significantly speed his recovery, but still, he knew the Saurian had to be in a lot of pain.
Aibek smiled. “I released myself, how did he put it, ah yes, against medical advice.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re combat ready, XO?”
“My place is by your side, sir.”
“Alright. I need a through damage report. Put all the department's reports together and let’s figure out how badly we’ve been hit while we make good on our escape.”
“Escape?” Aibek said the word as if it disgusted him.
“Yes, escape. We’ll be back—I promise you we’ll be back. Admiral Kartal is going to buy us some time.”
“Before he makes his escape too?” Aibek asked.
“His ship’s Lawrence drive is out. He’s not leaving the battlefield.”
“I see.” Aibek paused and grimaced. “The admiral has much honor.”
David shook his head. “I wish there was another way.”
“Who is in charge of the fleet, then?”
“The admiral asked me to lead the fleet temporarily.”
Aibek’s eyes opened even wider. “Colonel, that is a great honor. To be appointed by the admiral himself. Many a Saurian would fight in blood combat for the opportunity.”
“It’s one I wish I didn’t have,” David said ruefully.
“We all do what we must.”
“Indeed. Damage report, XO. Five minutes ago,” David said as a way to redirect Aibek back to his task; talking about leading the fleet was just not something he was interested in right now.
11
In marked contrast to the chaos, loss, and devastation wrought across the CDF and RSN fleets, the mood within Unity Station’s control room was one of near jubilation. And why shouldn’t it be? These men and women have been at the losing end at most engagements in the last three months, Seville considered as he glanced around the room, seeing the smiles on the faces of his staff.
“A moment of triumph, Admiral,” Strappi announced to the room, causing Seville to roll his eyes. He has boot-licking down to an absolute science.
“The true triumph is when we finish them off for good, Colonel. Don’t allow your eye to waver from the prize. That goes for all of us,” Seville intoned, raising his voice in the last sentence so that all around him could hear.
“Admiral, our analysis confirms the enemy forces are not going to run out of missiles before they escape the minefield,” the tactical officer called out from his station.
Seville stood up from his chair, which overlooked the rest of the stations in the control room, turning his gaze to a massive holoprojector showing the battle in real time. “Zoom the battle space out, Lieutenant.”
Masses of ships displayed as little icons, with the borders of the minefield marked. Seville pointed at the edge of the field. “This is where we need to jump our reinforcements in. I want you to send our three Alexander class battleship groups beyond the field. Order them to cut the CDF and their allies off, then grind them down,” he said with considerable force to his voice.
“Aye aye, sir!” the tactical officer called out.
“Let’s see how Admiral Kartal handles being surrounded,” Seville commented to the room at large; those present were smart enough not to answer him.
Twenty thousand kilometers away, Kartal paced up and down the bridge of his flagship. Only a small skeleton crew remained with him; he’d made the rest leave, even though they tried to insist on staying. The ra
nge between his ship and the oncoming League ships continued to close, but the League was in for a surprise, for the Elcin was the strongest, most heavily armored, and newest battleship in the Saurian fleet. Her sixteen purpose-built magnetic cannon turrets were designed for one thing—and one thing only—complete domination of space around her.
“Enemy contacts entering main armament firing range in thirty seconds, Admiral,” the tactical officer announced.
“Make every salvo count,” Kartal intoned. “Target the largest enemy vessels first.”
“Magnetic-cannons locked on, sir.”
“Kill enemy tracks with guns, tactical!”
“Aye aye, sir!”
The Saurian tactical officer pressed down on the firing button for the salvo of projectiles; all forty-eight of them erupting from the Elcin’s turrets simultaneously and racing toward the League fleet at ten-percent light speed. Striking four Rand class cruisers with twelve rounds each, the dense impactors of the Saurian shells hammered down the shields of the League ships and plunged into the superstructure before exploding. The result was four enemy ships turned into small debris fields.
“Admiral, enemy ships are slowing down and moving to envelop us!”
“Target the inbound escorts, tactical. Stand by neutron beam emitters,” Kartal commanded, looking up at the holoprojected tactical picture in the “tank” of his bridge. “Kill enemy tracks with beams!”
“Aye aye, sir,” the tactical officer responded, lining up repeated strikes with the Elcin’s neutron emitters. Sizzling points of green energy lanced out from the battleship, impacting shields and armor plating on numerous League destroyers and frigates. Many exploded as the poorly designed and built escorts were raked from fore to aft with the hull-piercing beams; lucky hits to missile magazines resulted in hard kills. Others were left as drifting hulks, unable to maneuver or fight. The League vessels weren’t defenseless, however. Their weapons ranged on the Elcin and began to pummel her with concentrated plasma cannon fire. At the same time, hundreds of missiles tracked the massive battleship.
Kartal watched the mass of icons representing the enemy fleet swarm his ship and circle around it while stopping their forward momentum. I only need to buy the fleet another five minutes. That is what they need to get out of this trap. “Tactical, shield status?”
“Receiving impacts across all shield quadrants, Admiral. The enemy presses us sorely.”
“Point defense status?”
“Ninety-two percent effective, sir.”
“Continue to cycle through League targets, take out as many of the escorts as you can. We’ll thin the herd for the rest of the fleet,” Kartal said, his voice full of confidence, while resigned to the fact that he wasn’t getting out of this battle alive.
“Admiral, enemy battleships coming into range. They’re on an intercept course with us,” his tactical officer announced.
“Navigation, evasive maneuvers, line us up for a broadside on the nearest battleship,” Kartal commanded.
“Aye aye, Admiral!”
“Tactical, double load our magnetic cannons, EMP loads followed by armor-piercing deep penetrators.”
The Elcin accelerated and began to turn in space to present the maximum number of magnetic cannon turrets toward the closest League Alexander class battleship. A fifteen-year-old design, the League battlewagons were more akin to a Royal Navy heavy cruiser but were still dangerous combatants.
“Steady on course three-one-five, Admiral. Optimum firing position achieved!” The navigator called out from her station.
“Tactical, status of magnetic cannon reload?”
“All guns report ready to fire, Admiral.”
“Kill enemy battleship track with guns!”
“Aye aye, sir!”
The massive turrets on the Elcin again spoke as one; projectiles the size of a small bus raced away from the battleship, slamming into the shields of the targeted League ship. The EMP rounds did their job, disrupting the inferior League shields and allowing the AP rounds through. They punched through armored plating like it was tissue, burying deep into the innards of the vessel. A moment later, they exploded inside the ship, causing portions of the superstructure to erupt outward, fire blooming out of the vessel before quickly extinguishing due to the vacuum of space and lack of oxygen. One of the shells came to rest near the engineering spaces and fractured the ship’s fusion reactor housing. Once it went critical, the entire ship went up in an explosion that looked like a small star forming.
“Very good, Lieutenant,” Kartal said with pride. We’ll fight to the last breath. A series of explosions within the Elcin took his attention from the League ships to his own. Pulling up a status display, he realized half of the port point defense emplacements had been disabled. The League ships were now volleying missiles into that quadrant. While the shields were soaking up the impacts, their energy levels were dropping at an alarming rate.
“Navigation, hard to port!” Kartal shouted. “Tactical, target our neutron beam emitters on the closest escorts… kill enemy tracks with beams.”
“Aye aye, Admiral.”
Again, the Elcin performed the deadly dance with her League pursuers, shredding the lightly shielded and armored frigates and destroyers, while the League capital ships pelted her with a large volume of plasma cannon fire. More and more League ships entered firing range and turned the space between them and the Elcin into a red-tinted light show of plasma balls and missiles. Kartal knew that their run was almost over. All shield quadrants were under twenty percent total power, and point defense effectiveness continued to fall as the Leaguers got lucky hits on close-in weapon system mounts.
“Admiral, we’re about to have shield failure on the aft and port sides,” the tactical officer said, confirming Kartal’s observation.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Everyone on the bridge, you may depart.”
“We’re not leaving, Admiral,” the tactical replied, looking back from his station, his scales flashing different colors.
“I plan to ram the nearest League battleship.”
The tactical officer and navigator exchanged looks. “We stand with you, sir,” the female Saurian at navigation announced.
“I am honored.”
“Let us begin. Navigation, intercept course on the nearest League Alexander class battleship. Flank speed, if you please.”
The Elcin’s engines roared to life, burning white hot as plasma ejected from them at ninety-eight percent of the speed of light. Kartal stared at the tactical plot as his ship moved directly toward a battleship a few thousand kilometers away. At some point, the bridge crew of the League ship realized what they were doing and tried to turn aside, but the Elcin had too much speed going for her to succeed.
Kartal glanced around the bridge and decided some final words were in order. “Warriors, thank you for joining me in my final fight. We have discharged our duties with honor. May we all see each other and our families again in the hall of warriors on the other side of the veil.”
“To the honor of the Prophet!” the navigator exclaimed.
“To the honor of the Prophet,” Kartal echoed. He gripped the sides of his chair as they rushed on toward the League battlewagon; he wasn’t afraid to die, but being confronted with imminent death made him consider parts of his life and decisions made. At that moment, he longed for the loving embrace of his mate, the brood mother of his offspring, and to tell them all one last time that he loved them with all his heart.
The crew left on the bridge were suddenly pitched up, several breaking the restraints that held them in place as the bow of the Elcin impacted with the League battleship. The G force was incredible as the two ships collided; the armored prow of the Saurian flagship drove through the Leaguer vessel like a hot knife through butter. Moments later, the stern of the League ship exploded from its reactor going supercritical, engulfing the Elcin in the destruction. Fire raced through the ship, and its fusion reactor housing cracked as it super-heated from plasma
release. In the final seconds, Kartal saw the tactical plot blink out, and the bridge vanished into white light. He died knowing the mission had been accomplished; the League fleet was delayed long enough for the Terrans and the rest of his Saurian brothers to escape.
12
A massive thermonuclear explosion to the left of Calvin’s shuttle momentarily blinded him and the pilot until their light filters kicked in a split second later. While the extremely loose formations they were flying in limited losses should one shuttle or fighter set off one of the mines, they also made each craft very much alone, and unable to get help quickly.
“That was close, Colonel,” the warrant officer flying the shuttle said, stress breaking through her mask of professionalism.
“Too damn close,” Calvin muttered back; he was staring at the digital readout, which displayed the status of the various shuttles carrying his Marines. “This is MEU 17 actual, calling Major Cabello, come in, over.”
Nothing but silence replied to Calvin’s plea; the same request he’d made repeatedly for the last fifteen minutes. “Sir, if he’s out there, his comms are down,” the pilot offered.
Calvin glanced up, shaking his head. “You’re right. I’ve, well, we’ve known each other for a long time. Raul’s a good man.”
“Of course, sir,” the younger pilot replied, focused on flying the ship.
“How’re we looking for getting out of this shit-show and back to the Lion?”
“We’re more or less flying down the egress lanes that the fleet’s blown in this minefield with most of its warheads. Most of the fighters have landed, and our shuttles are next.”
Calvin nodded, numb to the goings-on around him. “My readouts show nearly a third of our shuttles destroyed. I’m praying that some of them can’t check in due to damage.” Even as he said it, he knew the thought was unlikely to be a reality; Coalition technology was pretty good at telling you when something was destroyed. That was the entire point of the blue force situational awareness program.
