| |
SSU cruiser Jutland:
Drake breathed a sigh of relief as the distance between Jutland and the planet began to widen. Oracle’s prediction that all mobile defenses would be protecting Makassar appeared to be correct. The strike force had only been targeted by ground-based anti-ship missiles, and due to the strike force’s high speed, none of those had gotten close enough to be a threat. They hadn’t even had to fire any of their own AMMs. That allowed them to keep their anti-missile capability a secret. Drake doubted if any of the FED orbiting satellites were able to get a close up visual image of the Union ships. If they had, they would have seen the ring of external missile launchers that resembled a belt of bullets on each ship. With 377 external launchers, each one containing an anti-missile missile, the upgraded patrol cruisers had a decent amount of defensive capability, and with half of the AMMs pointing to the rear, it was just as easy to defend against missile attack from behind as from the front. One drawback was that each external missile launch tube had to be reloaded manually when the ship was in orbit around a Union planet or docked with a Union station, but Drake considered that a small price to pay for all those AMMs. The other drawback was the fact that they still had to make do with the first generation of AMMs. That was a worry, but Drake also knew that the second generation of AMM was in the testing phase. A ground-based version was the first priority, but the ship launched version would be next.
“Lee to Strike Force. Congratulations on a well-executed attack. Jutland, you were a little slow in firing. I hope that won’t happen again next time. Strike Leader out.”
Drake made sure his mic was turned off before calling Commodore Lee an asshole. Jutland had fired its missiles less than one second after the other three ships. All his missiles had been on target, so the delay hadn’t affected target accuracy at all. It was obvious to Drake that the Commodore had it in for him, but he was at a loss as to what he should or could do about it.
Makassar Defense Force:
Lt. Commander Remington noticed that her duty shift conning the Normandy was only half over when the tactical display started pinging madly for attention. Four red icons had appeared at the extreme edge of the radar satellites’ detection range. The lack of transponder ID and the alarmingly high speed made it obvious that they were hostile ships. Remington heard Commodore Stevens clear his throat over the squadron com channel. She hit the Battle Stations button without waiting to hear what the Commodore was about to say.
“Stevens to squadron! We have four bogeys approaching at high speed! Normandy! You’re in the best position to fire at them! Execute plan Alpha3 immediately! Stevens out!”
Remington smiled. The Commodore’s order meant that she could initiate missile fire herself without having to wait until her CO made it to the Bridge and relieved her.
“Confirm Alpha3, Weps,” said Remington. The Weapons Officer replied immediately.
“Alpha3 is ready to fire, Commander!”
Remington looked down at her number two screen which showed the status of Normandy’s missile tubes and the Enable Launch virtual button. She touched the button.
“All missiles have fired!” yelled the Weapons Officer. He’s too excited, thought Remington, but she understood why. It was his first time in an actual combat situation. With one combat engagement under her belt, she was practically considered a veteran. Even her CO didn’t have that to brag about. She checked the tactical display. Alpha3 was the plan to fire two missiles at each bogey. One would be slightly ahead of the other. The one in front would be armed with the standard high explosive warhead. The missile lagging behind would be armed with the new Mark 1 fission warhead. The idea behind the plan was that if the bogeys had any kind of missile defense, the lead missile would be the focus of that defense, with the hope that the following missile might be more likely to get through and hit the ship. Remington didn’t think these bogeys would use active defenses. She was willing to bet that they had neutron armor and would let the FED missiles hit that armor, just as the single Union ship had done eight months ago in Earth orbit. She checked the estimated time to intercept and was surprised to see that it was almost 21 minutes. Those bogeys were coming in slow. Arrogant bastards. Before she could think of anything else, she heard her CO’s voice as he entered the Bridge.
“Okay, Commander, I have the Con!”
Remington acknowledged the change of command and got up from the Command Chair. “We’ve fired eight birds under Alpha3 as per the SL’s order, Commander,” she said in a calm voice.
“Understood. What’s our reload status, Weps?” asked the CO.
“We’re reloading with the same combination, Skipper!”
Remington nodded. The Weapons Officer had taken it upon himself to make that call without waiting for orders. She hadn’t ordered it, because there was no rush. Alpha3 called for one volley only. Additional missile volleys would only be fired if needed after the first volley hit.
“Fine,” said the CO.
As he strapped himself in the Command Chair, which Remington thought was completely unnecessary and overly melodramatic, she said, “Request permission to remain on the Bridge, Captain.”
He looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “Permission granted.”
She stepped over to stand near the Tactical Station. Maybe my physical presence will help calm Weps down.
SSU Task Force:
Commodore Montoya was puzzled. Radar had identified six ships in orbit around Makassar, but only one of them had fired missiles. He found it difficult to believe that there was only one warship defending this planet. The other five weren’t acting like unarmed freighters anxious to get away from a combat situation. They were maneuvering like warships, so why weren’t they firing missiles? His squadron was still too far away to fire accurately on the planet and wouldn’t be in optimum firing range for another 44 minutes. That was the whole point of coming in slow. Decelerate down to virtually zero velocity at close range and pound the various industrial targets as they came up over the horizon, while the defending ships wasted their HE and KE missiles against his squadron’s neutron armor. He hated it when the enemy didn’t do what they were expected to do.
He was tempted to order those eight incoming missiles taken out with AMMs, but the mission plan specifically called for allowing enemy missiles to shatter against the armor. Besides, his heavy cruisers didn’t have a full load of AMMs, because they didn’t think they’d need them. If he started actively defending against incoming missiles, his squadron would soon exhaust their limited supply of AMMs, and then additional incoming missiles would hit their hulls anyway. So why not just let the armor do its job?
With time to impact just seconds away now, Montoya leaned forward to get a better view of the main tactical display. She watched the red icons merge with the green icons of his ships...and was thrown to one side so violently that his vision blurred. The Bridge lost power. When the emergency lights came on, he realised that the artificial gravity was still working. Thank God for that! Several people were shouting in panic or in pain. He couldn’t tell which. His Command Station console was dark, as was the main display.
“What the hell hit us?” yelled the Helm Officer. It was a good question. The only thing that Montoya could think of with that much power was a fission or a fusion device. He needed to get the ship’s power back on if they were to have any chance of surviving this battle.
“We’ll figure that out later,” he said in what he hoped was a calm voice. “Right now we have to restore main power. Bridge to Engineering?” There was no reply. “Helm, get down to Engineering and find out how quickly they can restore main power!” The Helm Officer nodded her acknowledgement and sprinted for the exit. After checking, Montoya discovered that no one on the Bridge was seriously hurt, but without internal communications it was impossible to know how the rest of the crew fared. The lack of power was maddening. His ship was deaf, blind and almost certainly crippled. He had no idea of the condition of the other three ships, nor did he know if the FEDs were firing more missiles at them.
It was at this point that two things happened almost simultaneously. The Helm Officer returned and main power came back on. Montoya listened to the officer’s report.
“Whatever hit us caved in part of the hull on the lower side, decks two through seven. That disrupted power conduits. The XO and the EO figured out how to reroute main power to the upper half of the ship. The bad news is maneuvering, Skipper. The best we can do now is 1.1G.”
Montoya thanked her and sent her back to her station. A quick check revealed that while internal communications were back online, he was still unable to contact any other ship in the squadron, but the tactical display was working. It was clear to him that all four ships of the squadron had been hit hard since all of them were now coasting on a ballistic trajectory. Continuing the mission and getting away was going to be difficult. The Helm Officer was already calculating possible trajectories with the ship’s reduced acceleration, and all of them involved running a long gauntlet of potential missile fire from the FED ships. If the FEDs had more of those fission warheads, and he had to assume that they did, then the chances of surviving long enough to micro-jump away were slim. On the other hand, if the FEDs did fire more missiles, he would definitely use his AMMs to stop them. He wondered if the FEDs knew that Union ships carried anti-missile missiles. If they didn’t, then maybe there was a chance to survive this, but the key was restoring communications with the rest of the squadron.
“Montoya to XO.” He had to repeat the call twice before the XO responded.
“XO here.”
“I still don’t have contact with the squadron, XO. Tell the damage control people that’s their top priority now. We have to co-ordinate our actions if we want to get through this.”
“Understood, Skipper. I’m on it,” said the XO.
Makassar Defense Force:
Remington looked at the tactical display sidebar data carefully. All four bogeys were no longer maneuvering, just coasting and on a new trajectory too. The fission warheads had been powerful enough to knock the ships off their previous vector. She looked at the Weapons Officer. He returned the look and shrugged. He didn’t know why they weren’t firing more missiles either. She decided to ask the CO. As she stepped up to the side of the Command Chair, the CO took notice.
“What’s on your mind, Commander?”
Remington bent over and spoke in a low voice that only her CO could hear. “I’m puzzled why we’re not firing more missiles, Captain.”
When he replied, his voice was equally low. “Commodore Stevens is calling on them to surrender. No response so far which could be because their communications are damaged. As you know, we don’t have a lot of Mark 1s right now. If we can get them to surrender without using any more nukes so much the better.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Remington. As she walked back to stand near the Weapons Station, she pondered the CO’s answer. Those four bogeys were still getting closer to Makassar. They could start firing missiles at ground targets any minute now. If it were up to her, she’d fire at least one more volley of Mark 1s and cripple those ships as quickly as possible, regardless of how few Mark 1s they had left. What was the point of having them if they weren’t going to be used? She was still debating the pros and cons of firing versus not firing when the CO surprised her with a missile launch order.
“Weps, fire three HEs at each target.”
The WO repeated the order and then confirmed the missile launch. Remington checked the interception eta. Less than six minutes. Her ship and the bogeys were now much closer than they had been when she launched the first volley. All six FED ships were now heading more or less directly for the oncoming enemy squadron. If neither side veered off, both sides would pass each other so closely that collision could be a serious risk.
Remington was puzzled by this head-on tactic. Those Union cruisers could launch up to 20 missiles each every 15 seconds. Her squadron’s only defense against missiles were rapid-fire railgun cannon with six on each ship for a total of thirty-six. The closer they got to the enemy ships, the less time the railguns would have to track and fire on incoming missiles. Why the hell are we fucking around with these bastards? she asked herself. We should be veering off to one side to keep the range open as much as possible and smother them with missiles.
SSU Task Force:
Montoya looked up at the tactical display as it pinged for attention. The FEDs were firing again this time with three volleys of four missiles each. He wasn’t surprised that they fired again, but he was surprised that they waited this long to do it. They had given him time to re-establish contact with the other three ships and discover their status. Two could maneuver to some extent, one had no ability to maneuver at all. If he was going to go with his plan, they would have to maintain their present course in order to stay together. He was very tempted to order all four ships to fire at the FED ships. It would be very satisfying to smash those FED cruisers into scrap metal, but doing so would preclude inflicting the most damage possible on the planet’s industrial centers, and that was his only priority. His ships could fire at the planet or at the defending ships, but not both at the same time. He looked at his Weapons Officer who looked back and nodded. All four ships knew what they had to do. They were just waiting for Montoya to give the word.
“Execute,” said Montoya.
“First volley is away. All ships have fired, Skipper,” said the Weapons Officer. Eighty missiles veered away to head for a particular spot on the planet’s surface. He hoped he’d gotten the timing right. In order to intercept the incoming FED missiles with AMMs, his ships had to load and fire AMMs no later than 30 seconds before enemy missile impact. That left his ships with just enough time to fire five more volleys of HE missiles at planetary targets. He wasn’t worried about the 12 missiles that were heading his way now. His anti-missile fire would take care of them. It was the follow-on volleys that worried him. If the FED waited to see how their second volley fared, they would see his AMMs and adjust their choice of missile warheads accordingly. But if they did what he wanted them to do, namely fire their fission warhead missiles quickly, then his ships might have enough AMMs to intercept them, with a slight chance of successfully running the FED gauntlet and escaping out the other side.
Makassar Defense Force:
“Son-of-a-bitch,” said Remington’s CO as the tactical display showed a new red icon with the number 80 inside it veering off toward Makassar. After a one second pause he started to speak. “Commodore, I recommend...” He stopped. Remington knew that Commodore Stevens had interrupted her CO, but only he was able to hear what Stevens had to say. “If we switch to Alpha6 I’ll have just enough Mark 1s for two volleys...” There was another interruption. “Your orders are clear, Sir. Alpha6 it is.” Turning to look at the Weapons Officer, the CO said, “Weps, we’re switching to Alpha6. As soon as you have targets programmed and tubes loaded, you may fire and continue firing until we’re out of Mark 1s. Any questions?”
“No questions, Skipper.” Remington realized that she was holding her breath and consciously let it out. Alpha6 under these circumstances meant that the ship would fire eight Mark 1 fission warhead missiles per volley. Two volleys would use up all of their remaining 16 Mark 1s. She wondered if the other ships in the squadron would also fire under Alpha6. Seconds later she had her answer. The squadron flagship fired eight missiles even before her own ship was ready. The other four ships of the squadron weren’t far behind. Forty-eight missiles, composed of six groups of eight, were heading for the Union ships. We should have co-ordinated our fire so that they all arrive on target at the same time. Stevens panicked. General Trojan isn’t going to like that, thought Remington.
Montoya smiled as the display showed first six and then a total of twelve clusters of eight missiles each heading for his squadron. He was willing to bet that those 96 missiles had fission warheads, and there was just enough time to fire his volleys at the planetary targets and still be able to intercept the enemy fire with his anti-missile missiles. If that’s all the enemy could throw at him, then his ships would get through this.
Makassar Defense Force:
Remington shook her head in dismay. There were now 480 enemy missiles headed for six industrial centers on Makassar. Each center had its own ground-based, rail-gun cannons, and their effective range was enhanced by the fact that Makassar had no atmosphere to slow down the accelerated metal slugs, but hitting 80 missiles over an interception window of just a few seconds was a big challenge, and the industrial centers were too far apart for the rail-guns around one to help defend another.
Remington watched closely as the two volleys from the FED squadron approached their targets. The tactical display zoomed in on the enemy ships. She saw multiple smaller and faster enemy missiles streak out and hit each FED missile. Some of the interceptors missed, but the enemy ships seemed to have enough to compensate for the misses. She heard a collective groan when the last of the two volleys were destroyed before reaching their targets. None of the Mark 1 warheads got through. Remington heard her CO clear his throat.
“Commodore, I have a suggestion.” Stevens must have given him permission to explain. “We should continue to fire HE missiles. The enemy will have to assume that they’re nukes and will have to continue using their counter-missiles. With a little luck, they’ll run out before they pass us. When we see our missiles hitting their hulls, then your ship and the rest of the squadron can fire their remaining Mark 1s and they should get through.” There was a long pause followed by, “I agree, Sir. Alpha1 is the best way to proceed.” He looked over at the Weapons Officer again. “Okay, Weps, we’re switching to Alpha1 targeting. Fire when ready and continue until you hear otherwise.”
“Alpha1 and continuous fire. Got it, Skipper. We’re reloading now. Firing in...three...two...one...NOW!”
SSU Task Force:
The cheers on the Bridge of Montoya’s flagship over the successful interception of all the incoming FED missiles died away as the tactical display pinged again and more volleys of missiles headed for the Strike Force. Montoya’s expression was grim as he counted how many times each FED ship was firing. When the number reached four he cursed silently and looked away. There was no way that his ships had enough AMMs to stop all those missiles. If those missiles carried nukes, the Strike Force was toast. After pondering the situation, he realized that while all four ships were unlikely to make it through the missile gauntlet, it might be possible to get one ship through. Checking the display’s sidebar data, he saw that Charger had the least damage and the highest acceleration of the four ships. The other two ships plus his own flagship would use their AMMs to protect Charger as long as possible. Once his mind was made up, the heavy burden of responsibility on his shoulders seemed to become lighter.”
“Com, I want a tight beam channel to all ships, and I want the crew to hear this too,” said Montoya to the Com Tech.
“Inter-ship and intercom channels are open, Sir.”
Montoya nodded. He took a deep breath and began speaking.
Makassar Defense Force:
Remington’s attention was focused on the front wave of the latest missile volleys. With the range between the two groups of ships dropping fast, the time to intercept was now measured in seconds rather than minutes.
“They’ve begun their counter-fire,” said the Weapons Officer.
“But not all of them,” said Remington. “One ship didn’t fire and...” She paused to make sure she really was seeing what she thought she was. “All the other counter fire is focused on protecting that one ship!”
“Damn. They’re trying to sneak one through,” said the CO. “As soon as our first wave hits their targets, the Rebels will realize that we’re not firing nukes anymore.”
It doesn’t matter, thought Remington. By the time they realize what we’re firing at them, they’ll have used up most or maybe all of their counter-missiles except for that one ship. The question will be do we have enough remaining Mark 1s to overwhelm that one ship’s defenses?
When the Union ships stopped firing counter-missiles before being hit by any of the FED missiles, Remington nodded. That’s it! They’ve run out of counter-missiles! She watched with growing excitement as the counter-missiles cleared a path for that one Union ship, while wave after wave of HE warheads impacted harmlessly against the armored hulls of the other three ships.
The range between them was now less than 50,000 klicks, and with the combined rate of closure at 987 kps, the two groups of ships would pass each other at white-knuckle range in less than a minute.
A new icon appeared on the display. Commodore Stevens’ flagship had fired three missiles which the sidebar data said were carrying Mark 1 warheads. They were obviously targeted at the three ships that appeared to have used up their counter-missile capability. If the fourth ship elected to use some of its remaining counter-missiles to protect its comrades, that was okay too. It would then have less missiles to defend itself when the other four FED ships fired their Mark 1s at it during the last few seconds before the two groups would be at their closest approach to each other. With three seconds to go before Stevens’ missiles hit, those three Union ships vomited 60 missiles. Remington did the math quickly. Sixty missiles spread over six ships meant that each ship’s six rail-gun cannon stood a pretty good chance of intercepting those missiles. But she felt a chill go down her spine when she realized that those 60 Union missiles weren’t spread evenly over the squadron. They were all concentrated on just two ships.
Events were happening fast now, too fast for the Weapons Officer to keep track. Stevens’ three Mark 1s hit their targets. One Union ship blew apart. The other two showed signs of major damage. The Union volley of 60 missiles reached their two targets, Corpus Christi and Vicksburg, before they fired their few remaining Mark 1s. Both ships stopped maneuvering and vented atmosphere. Remington shook her head. Stevens should have ordered them to fire first but hadn’t reacted fast enough. With the range now down to less than 5,000 klicks and only five seconds to go before interpenetration, the rest of the squadron fired their 13 remaining Mark 1s at the fourth enemy ship. It initiated counter-missile fire almost immediately. Twenty counter-missiles streaked out towards the thirteen incoming missiles. Remington held her breath. The two missile icons merged and...both disappeared. The Union ship had lucked out and stopped all the Mark 1s, even though the probabilities said that at least two FED missiles should have gotten through. By the time she realized what had happened, both groups of ships had passed each other and the range was now widening again.
Remington heard her CO curse. One Union ship would get away now that the FED ships no longer had any Mark 1s left to fire. Remington turned to the Weapons Officer and told him to switch the main display to show what had happened to the attacked industrial centers. The news was bad. Enough Union HE warheads had gotten through the ground-based defenses to cause significant damage and loss of life at all six targeted centers. It was hard to see how this battle could be considered an outright victory. The Commodore would have a lot of explaining to do.
