“What good is a military fleet if we’re not going to use it? Our losses will be acceptable,” Lemieux said, her voice dripping with derision.

  Undaunted, Seville tried again. “We should pull back and use our superior strength of numbers to occupy as many of their core planets as we can. Entrench ourselves and force them to surrender… our intelligence suggests they lack the stomach for a protracted war.”

  “That is not the plan, Admiral!” Lemieux said, her voice raised and face red. “You will adhere to the Chairman’s instructions. This is not a discussion. Are we clear?”

  “Colonel,” Seville retreated towards military formality, “I understand that in normal times, we must follow our orders to the letter. We’re twenty thousand light years from Earth. This is not a normal time!” He raised his voice and gestured with his hands to emphasize the point. “Alternatives must be considered that do not lead to the destruction of a thousand-ship fleet.”

  “What alternative do you suggest that will end in the occupation of the planet before us?”

  “Forcing the enemy to divide their technologically superior forces to protect a multitude of worlds, enabling us to defeat them in detail is the best alternative and a better strategy.”

  “Sounds like an excuse to retreat from battle to me, Admiral,” Lemieux said, a smug smirk plastered across her face. “Do you not realize the honor it was to be chosen to lead this fleet? Any of your subordinates would dance on your grave to receive that honor for themselves.”

  “Are you threatening me, Colonel?” Seville asked, his eyes locked on to hers unflinchingly.

  “If you care to take it as a threat, you may, Admiral. I alone have dominion on this fleet, and you. If I tell you to jump, you will ask me how high. If I tell you to attack, you will attack until the enemy is defeated, or you die. Nothing but complete obedience to the will of the state will be tolerated.”

  “It does not advance the will of the state to waste our soldiers’ lives in a futile attempt to defeat a superior foe,” Seville replied forcefully. Junior officers that stood around them tried to look away and ignore the conversation, worried expressions plainly visible on their faces.

  “Order the advance, or I’ll relieve you of command.”

  From the way she said it, Seville suspected she had left off “and have you thrown out an airlock,” but intended to do so. He closed his eyes for a moment. If we could take out their strongest ships, which they’ve left exposed at the front of the formation, perhaps a victory could still be won. Far more League Navy sailors would die than needed to; of that he was certain. I should have the spine to order her arrested on the spot. Yet I know that as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I’d be shot, my family would be killed, and my sailors would still die. At least I can try to win the battle on her terms. “Very well, Colonel. We will advance.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. I am pleased to see we can cooperate with each other after all.”

  Someday, I’ll be the one throwing you out of an airlock, Seville considered darkly as he motioned his flag captain over to receive new orders.

  “We’ve got sub-light engine ignition out of almost their entire fleet, General,” MacIntosh said, glancing from the general to the plot and back.

  “About time. They’ve been keeping a lady waiting, never a good thing to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just how much starch do you have in that shirt of yours anyway?” Irvine said, her mouth crinkled up with a touch of a smile.

  The combat information center on the Victory was a beehive of people and activity. The entire flag-staff was present, along with the CO of the ship and bridge crew. For a while, they’d thought the demonstration of superior Terran Coalition weaponry and defensive technology would convince their foe not to seek a general engagement. Apparently not. “Medium starch, ma’am.”

  Irvine chuckled. “Signal all ships, weapons free. Prioritize their largest vessels and concentrate our weapons on those targets.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” MacIntosh said crisply. He manipulated the fleet tactical network interface, using it to designate the most significant ships as priority targets for the fleet, including the Victory. Equally impressive was that Irvine allowed her commanding officer to handle the battle – not bigfooting the man when it would have been easy to do so. Together, they watched the plot as volleys of magnetic cannon and neutron beam fire raced out from the Terran ships, wiping away the enemy as if they were made of matchwood.

  It wasn’t a one-sided affair. The League ships ranged on the CDF formations and pummeled them with plasma-cannon fire, along with masses of anti-ship missiles. The rate of exchange was—on any other day—incredibly favorable, but each ship lost reduced their firepower and decreased the number of targets dividing the enemy’s attention.

  Irvine stared at the plot, her expression inscrutable. “Do you see it?”

  “See what, ma’am?”

  “The groups of heavy cruisers are out of position on their side, port side of the flagship.”

  MacIntosh stared at the plot, and it took several seconds, even told what to look for, to see what she meant. “I don’t see how that helps us, General.”

  “Perhaps God will favor the bold today. What’s the nearest action group?”

  “DEVRON Fourteen and three heavy cruisers, ma’am.”

  “The reserve destroyers?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Irvine looked down, a look of pain momentarily washing across her face. “If that’s the closest, they’ll have to do. Hopefully, the tin cans can rise to the occasion. Order them in, with instructions to cut the enemy’s T.”

  “Understood, ma’am.”

  “They want us to what?” Fisher asked incredulously as the bridge shook from repeated plasma impacts.

  “Navigation, bring us about to course zero-six-zero, adjust speed to match the Goddard,” Levi ordered. “So far, our cruisers have been able to penetrate the shields and armor of their battleships with ease. General Irvine knows what she’s doing.”

  “With respect, sir, we’re not a capital ship of the line. The enemy’s plasma weapons will cut through our limited armor like a hot knife through butter.”

  “Our shields will be enough.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fisher said, letting it go.

  “Course laid in, sir, speed matched with the Goddard,” the navigator reported, interrupting both.

  “TAO, firing point procedures.” Levi checked his tactical plot one last time. “Master Four-Seventy-Five, forward magnetic cannons, and neutron beams.”

  “Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set, sir.”

  “TAO, match bearings, shoot, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams.”

  Visible through the transparent metal window, and through the tactical plot, Levi stared in fascination as the CDF ships pressed onward toward the enemy flagship, designated Master One. Weapons fire spat from turreted magnetic cannons and neutron beam emitters across the ships that charged forward, along with anti-ship missiles that volleyed forth from the three older heavy cruisers the destroyers escorted. League vessels crumbled and burned under the weight of their bombardment; outright destroyed or turned into un-space-worthy wrecks that vented atmosphere.

  “Conn, TAO. Master Four-Seventy-Five disabled, sir,” El-Amin said, his words pulling Levi out of his thoughts. “Our formation has cleared the first wave of enemy escorts, sir.”

  The Salamis rocked under repeated plasma cannon hits, her bridge crew thrown from side to side in the harnesses they wore. “Conn, TAO. Forward shields have dropped to forty-six percent of full charge,” El-Amin said.

  “TAO, divert all emergency power reserves to our forward shields.”

  Levi nodded in satisfaction as shield strength increased in the forward quarter, but the real solution was to lower and recycle the generator, allowing it to fully recharge. Combat, unfortunately, isn’t an ideal time to drop our screens.

  “TAO, what ships are directly to our front and a significant threat?”

  “Master Seventy-Three and One-Oh-Five, sir. Both are classified as heavy cruisers and possess heavy anti-ship weaponry from what our scans show.”

  “Communications,” Levi said. “Signal the Goddard and request instructions.”

  Fisher’s voice was laden with doubt. “A destroyer against heavy cruisers? We’re good, sir… but we’re not that good.”

  “Have faith, XO,” Levi said, projecting a calm mask of command.

  “Conn, communications. Goddard orders us to engage Master One-Oh-Five, sir.”

  “TAO, firing point procedures, Master One-Oh-Five, magnetic cannons, neutron beams and forward missile cells one and two.”

  “Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set, sir.”

  Just like riding a bike, Levi thought, the years upon years of training and drill coming back like a rushing flood. Skills I hoped to never need, now serve us well. He stared at the tactical plot, which had an overlay showing maximum and optimum weapons range. Not waiting for the latter, he cleared his throat. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

  Another salvo of shells zoomed out at ten percent of light speed from the magnetic-cannons, in conjunction with time-on-target volleys from the neighboring destroyers, which would have the effect of all hitting the enemy cruiser at the same time for maximum damage.

  Levi watched with satisfaction as the larger ship’s shields flickered out and impacts began to rain down on its armored hull plating. Neutron beams added to the conflagration as did fusion warheads from their missile armaments. There’s only so much punishment any physical object can take. One of the weapons hit something critical and the vessel exploded violently in the star-filled sky.

  “Conn, TAO. Master One-Oh-Five, destroyed, sir!” El-Amin said, his voice raised for the first time.

  “TAO, Status of Master Seventy-Three?”

  “Still combat effective, sir.”

  “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Seventy-Three, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams,” Levi said with a hard edge to his voice.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were starting to enjoy this, sir,” Fisher commented quietly.

  Levi glanced at her. “I remember a quote from a famous general back on Earth, that it was a good thing war was hell; otherwise, we’d enjoy it far too much.”

  “I think I skipped that one in history class, sir.”

  Meanwhile, on the bridge of Le Terrible, Seville’s flag-staff shouted orders in increasing levels of desperation as the onrushing squadron of Terran Coalition ships worked over the few capital ships that lay between them and the flagship. He monitored the plot, running mental calculations on their current loss rate.

  “What is going on?” Lemieux said, her face displaying fear for the first time in the three months he’d known her.

  “One of our formations was out of alignment,” Seville said. “The enemy commander is exploiting it to great effect.”

  “Do something, Admiral!”

  “Calm yourself,” Seville said, his own voice becoming more direct. If I’m going to die, might as well do it on my feet.

  “Eliminate those ships. Now.”

  Because just shouting an order makes it possible. “I’m waiting for them to come into range of the flagship.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been studying the analysis of our weaponry versus their shielding and armor. Those destroyers match up quite well against our smaller ships, as do the cruisers they escort. The Le Terrible, unknown to them, has the latest plasma cannons. I’m confident we’ll make short work on their entire squadron, which in turn will open up the core of their lines to our assault. The enemy gambled here… as long as we can defeat this group of ships, I can turn that gamble back on them, and we’ll win.”

  Lemieux stared at Seville, and it seemed to him as if she was counting off the seconds in her head. “You’d better be right, Admiral.”

  “It’s both our lives if I’m not, Colonel Lemieux.”

  With no further response from her, Seville turned his attention back to the holographic tank that showed the enemy ships and their locations. “Officer of the deck,” he began, addressing his flag captain. “Target inbound enemy warships on approach vector. Charge plasma cannons to maximum yield and wait until they’re within five thousand kilometers. As soon as they do, open fire.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral.”

  Seville stared at the tactical plot, noting that his staff had calmed with the issuance of new orders that gave them confidence they’d defeat the incoming foe. The wait was agonizing as the Terran ships moved towards them at speeds, while impressive, were incredibly slow compared to the speed of light. The League, and apparently their human enemies, had yet to crack the technological nut of how to avoid relativistic speed drift.

  “Terran Coalition vessels entering optimum firing range, Admiral,” his flag captain announced.

  “Open fire,” Seville said.

  The flagship shuddered as dozens of plasma cannons spat superheated blobs of energy toward the Terran destroyers. Coupled with the relatively close range and high speed of approach, evasive maneuvers was less than adequate at avoiding enemy fire.

  “There!” Seville intoned, pointing at the plot as one of the red dots disappeared. One after the other, their weapons suite struck out and destroyed or disabled the ships arrayed against them. Within thirty seconds, it was over. The last group of cruisers tried to turn away but were caught amidships by concentrated volleys. Two exploded in space while the last one managed to limp away. “Now we have them,” he continued, vigor and confidence returning to his voice.

  “Signal the fleet and prepare to advance once more,” Lemieux interjected, causing Seville to whip around.

  “No!”

  “Admiral…”

  “No, Colonel. This battle is still very much in doubt. The prudent move now is to attack the opening left by the enemy.”

  “You may do that… while we advance across the entire front.”

  This fool…she will cost us everything, Seville fumed mentally. “Colonel, please. We must be cautious.”

  “Carry out my orders, or I’ll relieve you, Admiral,” Lemieux replied, the scowl still present and her lips curled up in a smirk. “I’d greatly enjoy doing so.”

  “I promise you, Colonel. I’ll see you hung if your poor decisions cost us the victory.”

  “Better men than you have tried,” Lemieux said with a cold smile.

  6

  A few minutes prior, the mood on the bridge of the Salamis had been one of determination, coupled with the infectious feeling of victory. The destroyer and her consorts had carved a path of destruction through the League fleet, coming within range of the largest enemy ship in their formation—the flagship—which was designated Master One.

  “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master One,” El-Amin said. “Master One has rotated to port and is charging all forward and ventral plasma cannons.”

  “TAO, firing point procedures, forward mag-cannons and neutron beams. Target Master One.”

  “Conn, TAO! Sierra One-Sixty-Eight destroyed! One-Sixty-Three destroyed!”

  Levi leaned forward. “Navigation, evasive maneuvers—” The ship rocked under his feet, throwing him forward and up so hard to cause physical pain from the tightening of the straps in his harness.

  “Conn, TAO! Forward shields collapsed!”

  Another impact slammed into the ship. A scream echoed behind him as an explosion was heard on the bridge. Levi cranked his head around to see that a piece of the overhead had fallen, exposing pipes and power conduits.

  “Navigation, get us out of here!” Levi shouted through the chaos. They must have super-charged weapons on that thing. We’ve got to fall back before the ship’s destroyed.

  “Conn, navigation, engines not responding.”

  “Brace yourselves, incoming missiles!” El-Amin interjected.

  “Master Chief, sound collision alarm!” Levi shouted.

  The klaxon wailed a split second before the first warhead hit. Four missiles in total got through the point defense systems, laying waste to the superstructure of the Salamis. Levi assumed one hit close to the bridge, because more pieces of the overhead came crashing down. Power conduits overloaded and at least three fires broke out. All the while, those strapped into their harnesses were thrown about like rag dolls.

  Ten seconds later, it was over. Levi shoved a piece of fallen metal off his arm, singeing his hand in the process. He took in the scene of the bridge; it was, in many places, smoking rubble. Console fuses had exploded, pipes had fallen, and judging by the red streaks on the deck, much blood had been spilled. Momentarily, he felt his OODA—observe-orient-decide-act—loop compromised by the nearly complete destruction.

  Other officers and crewmen were beginning to pick themselves up as well. Fisher bent over a young enlisted soldier that lay on the floor, a medical scanner on her hand. “Come on, breathe, dammit!”

  Levi reached for the commlink on his command chair and slapped it, gratified that one thing still worked. “This is Major Cohen to all damage control parties. The bridge is heavily damaged, and we need immediate assistance. Get corpsmen up here on the double!”

  The most pressing task completed, Levi stepped over a piece of mangled metal and knelt next to Fisher while reaching out to check the crewman’s pulse. Finding none, he glanced around the young woman, it suddenly registering that there was a piece of metal lodged in her leg, along with a dark red pool of blood around it. “Did you try CPR?”

  “I did. She’s lost too much blood,” Fisher said as she wiped her face.

  “You can’t save them all, XO,” Levi replied quietly, standing once more. “Damage report, all stations!”

  “Weapons inoperative, sir,” El-Amin said. “Damage control is working the problem on E deck. Main power couplings are fused.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8