by Daniel Gibbs
Damned right, we do. Henry set his jaw and gripped the armrests of his chair. So far, the League was making them look like cadets. The losses ratio was now standing at three privateer ships for every lost League one, and their numerical advantage was steadily slipping away. If the League station or its fighters got involved, they were in trouble.
The League fleet, no longer on course for Pluto Base, was coming about. With the numbers more equalized, it seemed to Henry they were getting ready to assume the offensive.
"Those missiles al-Lahim gave us, we should probably use those now," Tia pointed out.
Henry shook his head. "Not like this. Once the League knows we've got Hunters, they'll adjust tactics. If we use them, we've got to kick them in the head when we do it. Something to—" A thought came to him. He smiled to himself and ignored the shudder of a direct hit to the Shadow Wolf's deflectors while keying the comms. "Commodore Dulaney, I've got an idea."
"I'm all ears, Captain Henry."
"We've been letting them dictate how this engagement is going, and they're using that. I say let's take the initiative back. We hit something they have to protect."
"You wish to engage League base," said Piotr Tokarev. "Base likely has plasma cannon, maybe other weapons. Will be… difficult target."
"Ordinarily, yeah, but I'm carrying something to even the odds. To make this work, I need the ships carrying the boarding teams to form up with me."
"That's half our remaining strength," Dulaney replied. "The other ships won't be strong enough to hold back the League fleet."
"They only need to delay them, keep them honest," Henry promised. "And it's just a brief diversion. Once we deploy our troops, we'll get back in the fight."
There was silence on the other end.
"I will join you, Captain," Piotr pledged. "As will my squadron." A few other independent captains soon echoed over the line, vowing the same.
"Alright. Detaching our ships to your command. It's on you, Captain Henry."
Henry nodded, although only his crew could see it. He took a breath, steeled himself for the possibility of failure, and started giving orders.
19
The success of his maneuver brought no comfort to Hartford. He'd cut down the enemy's margin of superiority, but they still had those numbers. Even worse, they weren't yet withdrawing, and he was already losing ships again. If the battle continued for just another half-hour, they’d end up with a pyrrhic victory, as his fleet would not get the reaction he needed from Lusitanian authorities.
He broke the silence with an order. "Perform an emissions scan on the fleet. Identify vessels with the most active communication signals.
"Yes, Admiral!" one junior officer responded, prompt and eager like he was wet behind the ears.
Hartford's attention returned to the holotank display, with its sterile grouping of red and blue lights. The two fleets were reforming after the previous maneuvers from both sides. His squadron was doing so faster, to his gratification.
The display changed, now showing links between red icons. "We have signal traffic between ships. Narrow-beam tactical communication network from the looks of it."
"Yes. Probably the only method that could be guaranteed to work with all of these designs." Hartford's right hand lifted toward the holotank. "Send to the fleet. Focus fire on these targets." He zoomed in on the enemy formation and used his finger to "touch" the holographic markers, causing them to light up further. "The enemy's coordination is poor, but they still have leaders. If we remove the leaders, we’ll panic the rest."
"Modified targeting orders acknowledged, sir."
Hartford watched the volume of fire shift. At the same time, he noticed that the enemy fleet was not merely regrouping. They were re-organizing. Some of the vessels were starting to change position, as if forming together, and under a commander who was at least familiar with starship maneuver and formations. What are they doing? he pondered. He studied the maneuvering ships, and his eyes fell on the form of a medium-weight cargo transport ship with six visible holds on its underbelly. The emissions scanning showed it was communicating rather heavily with the other contacts. Could that be? Rage filled him as he lifted his hand and marked the icon. "I want this vessel eliminated."
Tia listened with some awe as Henry organized the ships moving into formation with the Shadow Wolf. While she'd always known of his past in the CDF, and that he was a capable ship handler, that he knew anything about arranging ships like this was something new to her experience. When he was done, she asked, "I thought you were never higher than a First Officer when you had combat duty?"
Henry flashed a small grin at her. "Colonel Goldstein was also often in command of improvised destroyer squadrons. The man had a talent for wrangling ships together."
"Uh, Captain?" Piper looked over at the sensors with some worry in her voice. "The League ships are moving again. Toward us."
Tia didn't like the sound of that. "They're coming after the fleet again?"
"Not just the fleet. Us," she said. "I'm getting weapons lock-on from them."
"Damn." Tia looked at the holotank. They had maybe ten seconds left before they came under fire. "What now?"
Henry nodded. "Tell everyone to move, now. We're going in."
Hartford watched with quiet interest the evolving maneuver of the privateer force. Some of their ships started pulling away from the others, including the target he'd designated for the fleet. As he stared, he could see it had a rather impressive acceleration profile. The kind only possible with a fusion drive.
Caillaux saw the maneuver too. His expression betrayed his surprise and his concern. "They're heading for us, Admiral," he said.
"Time to fighter launch?"
"Five minutes for screening fighters, ten for attack," Caillaux answered.
"My compliments to the flight crew for their energy," Hartford said. His eyes never left the holotank, giving Caillaux and Li the impression of a man trying to see into the minds of his adversaries.
The Shadow Wolf and over two dozen ships were now burning hard for Pluto Base. The League's stolen fleet of civilian vessels was in hot pursuit, even as the rest of the privateer fleet exchanged fire with them. The void was filled with the fury of battle, energy weapons, and magnetically-accelerated projectiles racing across thousands of kilometers of space to smash into deflector screens and bare hull.
"I'm reading plasma cannon emplacements coming online," Piper warned.
"Acknowledged," Henry said. His attention was entirely on the holotank, judging the distances. He was already confident in Cera doing what was necessary to evade fire without breaking from their course. With a stroke of a key, he opened his comm line to al-Lahim. "Major, how many of those things do we have again?"
"Thirty," was the reply. "Fourteen in each amidship hold and two as a reserve in the stern holds."
"Get ready to roll out the ones in the mid-port hold, on my mark."
Yanik overheard al-Lahim's acknowledgment of the order from his place in the port middle hold. The deck was mostly taken up by the missiles in question and provided very little room for maneuver. Al-Lahim was currently standing in the passage linking the two amidship holds together. "If we decompress the entire compartment, it should be enough," he proposed.
With the gravity turned off, Yanik agreed. "I will see to the hatch. You prepare the missiles." Without waiting for al-Lahim to concur, Yanik started forward. He had to fight the inertia effects of the ship's thrust, currently overwhelming the inertial compensators. With a combination of sheer strength, determination, and aid from his mag boots, Yanik made his way to the controls of the cargo hatch. "Captain, we are ready," he said into the ship's intercom.
"Stand by."
The ship shuddered once, then twice. It was under fire. Possibly heavy fire. A third shake confirmed his belief. There was no practical purpose for being worried about it, so Yanik did not. He kept his hand at the control, waiting for the word to trigger the sequence.
; As a civilian ship, the Shadow Wolf didn't have the kind of command and control equipment that a military vessel did, especially one built to permit command of formations. Henry had to make do with a holotank that was designed for observing traffic around his ship. Right now, it showed the host of amber contacts that Piper had marked as hostile bearing down on them, repeatedly firing as if the sole goal of the enemy fleet was to remove his ship from existence.
Another shot hit them. "Shell hit. Rear deflectors are failing," Tia said. "We need to take hard evasive action."
"In a minute," Henry said. "Cera, do what you can but keep this heading. On my mark, prepare for a sharp turn, heading eighty-eight by thirty.”
"Aye," she said.
"Piper, I want the missiles in the port hold aimed at those plasma cannon emplacements. Task six for the larger hangars on the station itself. They need to be on target the moment we drop them, so set the safety ranges to zero."
Piper nodded. "I'm feeding them the targeting data now."
Henry's mind raced as more impacts rocked his ship. Many shots missed. Some were taken by other vessels detached to aid him, since their deflectors were less strained by the fight. The determination of the enemy fleet to eliminate the Shadow Wolf was something he hadn't expected. In retrospect, it was sloppy of him. His vessel had already fought off two ambushes from these people or their proxies. Why wouldn't they be determined to take him down?
Or they're using emissions scans and figured out I'm giving orders. What I wouldn't give for a proper military commlink network right now.
"Captain, we're approachin' that point you asked about," Cera said.
"So I see." As he spoke, the ship shuddered again.
"Rear deflectors critical," Tia said.
"Isn't anyone directing power to the rear deflector generator?" Henry asked.
"Yes, but we're not a damn warship, as if I have to remind you!" Tia countered.
Her point was made even more eloquently a moment later as a plasma beam sizzled through the void, went between two of their following allies, and speared the stern section of the Shadow Wolf. The emerald beam sliced through the hull and scourged the transport's alloy skin.
"Partial hit, stern, lower deck," Tia said. "No critical systems damage, but we do have a hull breach. Emergency bulkhead in place." With some sarcasm, she added, "Rear deflector's out, by the way."
Henry nodded in acknowledgment, but he paid her no further heed, much to Tia's apparent chagrin. He was busy judging the distance with the holotank. Almost there.
Another shot lashed out at them, barely missing. Then another plasma beam scoured the starboard atmospheric stabilizer fin sticking up from the stern, shearing much of it away.
Tia reported the damage in a quietly desperate kind of voice. "Whatever you're doing, do it now!" she insisted. "We need to present a deflector facing that's not drained!"
For a second, Henry didn't react. He still didn't have the range he wanted. But it should be enough. Can't let perfect be the enemy of good enough, even at these stakes. He opened the intercom so Yanik could hear him and shouted, "Mark!"
Cera immediately fired the maneuvering engines and wrenched the Shadow Wolf onto a new course. As the ship turned, the middle port hold's door opened to space. Henry couldn't hear the result of decompression given the middle holds were atmospherically-sealed, but he could imagine the roar Yanik was enduring as the atmosphere in that hold was pulled into space by vacuum.
The vacuum claimed all fourteen of the missiles in the hold. The holotank showed their transponders were active. While Cera straightened out the ship and presented the intact starboard deflector to their opponents, Henry was already looking to Piper. "Now!"
It wasn't necessary. She'd already triggered the missiles.
The fourteen Hunters came alive. They already had some inertia from the decompression that ejected them into space. Their engines roared in unison and they rocketed off toward the enemy base.
"All ships, follow the missiles in!" Henry ordered. "Fire on their deflectors, all weapons!"
Hartford was ready for the ship he was now convinced was the Shadow Wolf to do something. That was why he'd ordered the fleet to focus on it. Seeing it drop missiles while turning and burning was a maneuver he was not surprised by.
"Point defense is engaging incoming missiles," an officer said, her accent a North American one.
The report didn't seem to need a reply. Hartford kept his attention on the enemy fleet. The ships were still bearing down on Pluto Base. Their weapons blazed to life, sending weapons fire of a half dozen different types along with a barrage of missiles and mag-cannon shells into the station’s shields.
This tactic is bizarre. It seemed nothing more than a defiant gesture. Pluto Base's deflectors might fail, but her plasma cannon emplacements were built for engaging military ships. It would make short work of them if they dared to get in range. Hartford stared at the plot, trying to discern the enemy’s next move.
"Sir, the enemy missiles—"
"What?" Hartford didn't shout, but his voice betrayed impatience. He shifted his gaze from the incoming ships to the missiles streaking ahead of them.
Missiles that were most certainly not being taken out by the point defenses.
Realization came, and with it, a tremor of fear. "No," Hartford breathed. "How did they?"
"Enemy missile profiles confirmed, Coalition Defense Force Hunter-type!" the officer reported. Her voice wavered. She was apparently as surprised as he was. "They're evading our point defense fire!"
"Increase firing rate!" Caillaux ordered.
"Launch any fighter ready, target those missiles!" Hartford added.
"No fighters ready yet, sir; still two minutes from—"
Caillaux's answer didn't reach Hartford, not entirely. He was already watching with horror as the missiles, coming in on their rapidly-changing vectors, defeated all of the electronic spoofing and point-defense Pluto Base had to offer. The truth was the station hadn't been designed with the level of defenses needed to defeat a barrage the Terran Coalition’s best weapons.
"Enemy fire is intensifying against the deflectors, shield power is falling below fifty percent.”
There was nothing for Hartford to do but watch and see how it played out. The Hunter missiles, using their shackled AI systems, pressed on with ease. More to the point, the desperate efforts of the systems meant the missiles fired by the other ships in the fleet were not suffering much interdiction either. "Redirect point defense to the rest of their barrage," he ordered. "We need to attrite the incoming fire."
"Aye, sir."
It was, of course, not enough. When the Hunters finally came in, they started to impact on failing deflectors. Their powerful warheads went off, one after the other.
"Deflectors critical!"
Once the shields failed, they were through, eleven missiles in all. In the final seconds before impact, the close range and lucky fire took out two of the Hunters, but that left nine to finish their courses. The station shook violently as they detonated against its structure, blasting the weapon emplacements and hangars.
"Damage report,” Hartford barked.
"We've lost seven plasma cannon emplacements, including all facing the approaching enemy fleet. Two of our hangars were hit, the fighters and personnel inside are gone. Automatic fire suppression systems are functional."
Caillaux swallowed at his subordinate's report. "We're down to two fighter squadrons now. One of them is being rearmed for anti-ship combat." Even as he spoke, the station seemed to vibrate as its frame endured more abuse from the enemy ships approaching. Their fire kept the deflectors from regaining coherency, meaning there was nothing to prevent them from physically interacting with the station. More to the point, their weapons were starting to damage the station itself.
"Inform all personnel, prepare to repel enemy boarders," Hartford said sternly. On the holotank, his ships were still trying to kill the vessel that fired those Hunters. It was burn
ing hard for the station at a parabolic approach that shifted every second due to its constant evasions. His fleet, meanwhile, was taking fire from both sections of the enemy fleet, particularly that section not approaching Pluto Base. As he observed, another ship succumbed, reducing the fleet yet further.
Behind Hartford, Li was smoldering. "You have failed," he growled.
"I have done all that is possible," Hartford answered, not bothering to face the liaison officer, contempt in his tone. "Or, do you have a better strategy?"
"Recall Zervakos' squadron!"
He laughed coldly. "Commander, that would be pointless. They’re at least six jumps away. No ship has ever jumped more than four times without cooldown, and most perish in such efforts. Even if Zervakos risks his ships with double or even triple jumps, he would still need time for cool-downs of his systems. His arrival would be two to three hours away." A slight grin came to his face as he reopened the comm channel. "Fleet, disengage. Burn to the jump zone and make your way to Lusitania. Commence the operation as planned." The fleet obeyed his order, vessels turning immediately on a vector out of the system. He noted the looks on the faces of Caillaux and Li, as if he were mad.
"You have ensured our defeat, Admiral," Caillaux said. "Even if we repel their boarding parties, we've lost too many weapon systems. They'll either take us or destroy us."
"Yes." Hartford nodded. "But the operation will still succeed. The loss of Pluto Base and all aboard is an acceptable price for the success of the mission, wouldn't you agree?"
