“We got him,” Scarecrow said with grim satisfaction as he exited his TR-3B and stood to salute Rear Admiral Reynolds.
Matheson helped Williams out of the hatch, and together they hobbled up and stood beside their pilot, beaming in triumph. Hutch and his crew, which now included Lieutenant Hendricks, joined them, along with Nutcracker and his crew. Scarecrow turned and hugged Hutch as he approached.
“Man, am I glad to see you! You had me worried there for a while.”
“Bravo Zulu, gentlemen,” Reynolds said as he looked at each one. “Flight crews, you’re dismissed to go and prepare your after action reports. I need to speak to your pilots. Lieutenant Commander Williams, I believe the CMO wants to see you. He’s not happy about you playing hooky.”
“Aye, Sir.” Vince and Cody each managed a clumsy salute and then the six crewmen headed across the hangar bay, jostling and congratulating each other as they headed for the hatch.
“What’s up, Sir?” Hutch asked when they were alone. “And what’s with all the commotion around here?” He gazed across the hangar bay, bustling with more than the usual level of activity.
“This is it, gentlemen,” the rear admiral said. “It’s started.”
“The invasion,” they spoke in unison. “Where and how?” Nutcracker added.
“Four Leviathan class mother ships dropped out of FTL in orbit over the Mars Base, just out of range of her gun emplacements.”
“How long ago?”
“Just over two hours. Thirty minutes ago, two more joined them, along with six cetacean class destroyers.”
“So we were right,” Scarecrow said. “They are targeting Mars Base first.”
“It appears so.”
“Any sign of the White Whale?”
“Not yet. But you can bet it’s out there, and we’ll have to deal with it eventually.”
“What–you mean the legend’s true, Sir?” Hutch asked. “You finally got a fix on it?”
“Steve managed to get some exceptional sensor data during his last mission,” the rear admiral replied. “It was brief, but telling.”
“See what happens when you take a nap, Rip Van Winkle?” Scarecrow said as he chided his friend with a slap on the shoulder. He turned back to Reynolds. “So what’s our play?”
“Command is assembling the fleet. All of us. We’re to rendezvous on the far side of Jupiter, where we’ll confer with Command to lay out our attack strategy. We’re headed there right now.” The rear admiral turned and shot a stern gaze at Scarecrow. “Steve, you’ve been working with S-5 on a strategy. Now would be a good time to present it.”
“Yes Sir I will, but first there’s something I need to do. Permission to be dismissed.” He attempted to move past the rear admiral, but Reynolds grabbed his arm and stared him in the eye, concern washing across his face.
“She’s gone.”
“What?” Scarecrow responded with an incredulous air.
“The Major and her company deployed an hour ago. Down to the Mars Base. They and the other companies are preparing their defenses as we speak.”
“We’re supposed to be getting married in two days,” Scarecrow said with a dejected look. “The enemy’s timing sucks.”
“I know,” Reynolds said. “At this particular moment, that’s the center of your universe. I get that. But you must also realize that for all of us, the most important thing right now is the survival of our home world. What we all do in the next 48 hours –you included–will determine the fate of the entire human race.” Reynolds tried to be sympathetic. “If ever there was a time that I needed you to set aside your own needs and focus on the task at hand, it’s–”
“Just finished setting aside my own needs, Sir.” Scarecrow kept his emotions in check. “I chose a mission objective over Sandy. I left her, just like Saunders did ten years ago. I risked ending our relationship in order to grease Black Bart.”
“Can I count on you?”
“You don’t need to ask, Admiral.” Scarecrow sighed. “I serve at your pleasure, Sir. Let’s get this done, so I can go and get married.” He reached up and felt for Cooper’s ring tucked inside his flight suit pocket.
“That is, if the Major will still have me.”
Rear Admiral Reynolds, Hutch and Scarecrow entered the briefing room to be greeted by Captain Carter, Travis, Franks and the S-5 team, all exhibiting a hard look.
“Put ‘em up,” Reynolds ordered as he nodded to the ARI displays floating just below the overhead. Travis switched on the console at the front of the room, and the images of all 11 captains and their CAGs, as well as the entire Command staff appeared around the perimeter of the briefing room. Admiral Maddox addressed the gathering.
“Captains, ladies and gentlemen, it appears the Nautilus team has been correct in their prediction of the enemy’s plans. Approximately three hours ago, the enemy began to assemble a fleet over Mars and immediately proceeded to land an expeditionary force to take the Mars Base. The fleet approached as single vessels from different vectors, and gathered just out of range of the Mars Base’s defenses.
“It currently consists of 12 Leviathan class mother ships, and we assume they’re all carrying troops and support equipment. They’re reinforced by 23 Cetacean class destroyers. We believe their intent is to overrun the Mars Base and use it as a forward staging position to launch a full-scale invasion of Earth. We also believe that once they’ve secured Mars, they will then attempt to neutralize Lunar Operations Command in a similar action, and finally move on Earth itself. In the midst of all this, we’re also convinced it’s their intention to destroy the Solar Warden fleet. Or at the very least, cripple it.”
Maddox paused. An ominous silence hung over the room. He continued.
“In light of this, those of us on the Command staff have decided to offer Captain Hutcheson a temporary field promotion to Commander of the entire Solar Warden Air Wing. He will command the assault-fighter force, including the squadrons from the Mars Base and Lunar Operations Command. God forbid that anything should happen to Nautilus during this campaign, but if she is lost, Rear Admiral Louise Stanton will assume command of the fleet. And if Captain Hutcheson is lost, Commander Richardson will be promoted to Captain and take his place. Does anyone have any questions?”
The room remained silent.
“Very well. I will yield the floor to General Patrick, who is at the Mars Base, in the midst of preparing his Marines for the ground defense of that facility. General.”
“Thank you Admiral,” Patrick said. “Based on the current rate of deployment of the enemy ground troops, it’s our contention that they will field a much larger expeditionary force than we could hope to. As a result, we are requesting air support if your operations in orbit are successful. We don’t believe the enemy will risk any kind of aerial assault on my defensive position or on the base itself, due to the fact that our gun batteries here will be able to easily neutralize any air assault they could attempt to launch. However, if the Solar Warden fleet is successful in defeating the enemy fleet, then air support for my Marines could turn the tide of battle on the ground.”
“Why not just assign a wing to provide defensive counter air for your Marines, General?” Captain Reed’s CAG asked.
“Because we’re going to need every bird in the air to deal with the enemy squadrons,” Zvi replied. “Every Leviathan class mother ship carries 82 saucers. That’s a total of 984.”
“How many birds do we have?” Rear Admiral Stanton inquired, peering over at Scarecrow as she did.
“If you count the air wings from the Mars Base and Lunar Operations Command, and then throw in the four that just rolled off the assembly line back home, we have a total of 186 TR-3Bs,” Hutch said. “We’re severely out-gunned. We’re going to need every bird we have in order to deal with our enemy counterparts.”
“We’ve chosen a defensible position just east of the base, and have begun reinforcing it,” General Patrick said as he continued. “I have a total of 12 companies of Marines waiting to be deployed. When I’m finished here, I’ll brief my company commanders and we’ll proceed immediately to the ridge where we’ve chosen to make our stand. I understand that all of you are currently en-route to your rendezvous point behind Jupiter. Admiral Stanton is the furthest out?”
“What’s your ETA, Admiral?” Maddox asked.
“We’re at least 11 hours away. We’re pushing hard to get there as soon as possible, but I’m afraid that’s the best we can do.”
“Alright. Admiral Reynolds, the fleet does not mobilize until all of our ships are assembled, so you have 11 hours to prepare your plan of attack.”
“Admiral Reynolds, I understand your squadron leader has a strategy in mind,” Vice Admiral Gibson asked. “If he would be so kind as to share it, I think we would all be eager to hear what he has in store for the snakeheads.”
“I yield the floor to you, Commander Richardson,” Admiral Maddox said.
Scarecrow held his breath as he stepped forward. He placed his tablet on the console and synced it with the ARI system.
“Before he begins, I would like to address Admiral Stanton,” Reynolds said as he turned to face the ARI image of the Oleander battle group commander. “I thought you would be pleased to hear that Commander Richardson has recently returned from a mission. He just–how did you put it? ‘Squashed your chigger’ for you.”
“Well, well,” Rear Admiral Stanton replied with a surprised grin. “Bravo Zulu, Commander. Let’s hope for all our sakes your luck holds.”
“Can we please get back to the situation at hand?” General Patrick said.
“My apologies, General,” Reynolds said. “Commander, if you will?”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my plan is rather simple, but if successful, I believe it will be effective.” He gazed around the room at the ghostly faces peering back at him through the ARI displays.
“Quickly, Commander, “General Patrick said, “I have another briefing to conduct, then 6,000 Marines to deploy before all the hoopla begins.”
“Aye, Sir. Here’s what I propose. Before we swing around Jupiter and engage the enemy fleet, we deploy a high yield explosive device onto one of the enemy mother ships, destroying it and either destroying the remaining fleet, or at least crippling most of it.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Patrick asked, unconvinced.
“I believe Captain Nakamura knows the answer to that, Sir.”
Nakamura sat puzzled for a moment, confusion etched across his face. Then it lit up with startled comprehension. “We’ll transport it onto one of their mother ships. Just like that snakehead and his minions transported onto my ship.”
“Exactly, Sir.”
“And can you please enlighten us as to how you intend to accomplish that, Commander? As soon as they detect the power surge from the transporter, they’ll throw up their shields, and your strategy will fail,” the Marine general said. “And what if their shields are already up?”
“Sir, it was explained to me by my training officer some time ago that shields draw a considerable amount of energy. In order to conserve power, the enemy will most likely keep their shields down until they detect our approach. That’s why we initiate the transport while still on the far side of Jupiter–they won’t be able to detect our action. My training officer explained to me that the wormhole created by the transporter is not affected in any way by the physicality of our universe, so we can transport directly through the gas giant. However, as the general pointed out, the enemy’s shields can scatter the directional force of the wormhole and disperse it before it can lock onto the coordinates at the center of the targeted LCMS. We need to be sure their shields are inactive for this to work.
“When I transported onto the Behemoth class mother ship several months ago, we had to time everything perfectly so that I stepped through the transporter at the moment it was activated, then it was immediately de-activated so as not to give the enemy time to raise their shields and shut down the wormhole. According to the transport logs, the transporter was only active for two–point–eight seconds, and that didn’t even give the enemy time to triangulate where I stepped through onto their mother ship. We would require the same amount of speed in this operation for it to be successful.”
“How fast can you push a bomb through the transporter, Commander?” Captain Jenkins asked.
“Not fast enough, Sir,” Scarecrow replied. “So I’ve got the machinists in our engineering department working on a delivery system as we speak. It should be sufficient to get the job done.”
“What kind of ordnance do you plan to use, Commander?” Patrick asked, still unconvinced. “One of your ‘photon torpedoes?’” His gibe was telling.
“No, Sir. I suggest we use a Mark IV, STS-36 Corseque missile, with an RMX-bottleneck delay detonator, and a trinnium-cobalt warhead with a standard yield of 46.8 megatons. It’s affectionately referred to by the Nautilus’ ordnance crew as ‘Aunt Gladys.’ Sir.”
“How’s that for ‘nomenclature,’ General?” Maddox said with a mild chuckle.
“I am impressed, Commander.” Patrick nodded in Scarecrow’s direction as he conceded. “I rescind my previous criticism.”
Admiral Maddox grinned with satisfaction at Scarecrow’s vindication.
“Since we’re using the transporter, we won’t need the missile’s delivery system,” Scarecrow said as he continued. “It’s 27 feet long, and would slow our deployment. We can remove the warhead and send it through alone with only the detonator attached.”
“Why this particular choice of ordnance, Commander?” Maddox asked.
“Because Sir, the warhead is a trinnium-cobalt trans-nuclear explosive. The nature of the combination of trinnium and cobalt creates an intense and highly concentrated explosion which limits the lethal blast radius to a mere 200 miles, and the EM pulse to a radius of 300 miles. Of course, the shock wave would extend much farther as it travels through the tenuous plasma found in open space, but after about 1,000 miles, it’s no longer lethal or destructive in nature.
“Depending on how far away the enemy fleet is from the general’s Marines, such a small blast radius will reduce the chance of adversely injuring his men, or affecting the operation of the infrastructure he has in place on the ground.”
“I thank you for considering the safety of my Marines, Commander,” Patrick said.
“And what about the secondary blast from the exploding mother ship?” Vice Admiral Gibson questioned.
“Based on our previous experience with destroying Leviathan class mother ships, the lethal blast radius from their detonation is only 50 miles. They’re not bombs, so it’s much less than what you might think. Even if we were to destroy the entire enemy fleet, and if they remain at their current position, the general’s Marines would still be safe.”
“Will a single device be enough to destroy the entire enemy fleet, Commander?” Rear Admiral Stanton asked.
“No Ma’am. It will most likely only destroy a goodly portion of it, depending on how they’re configured. It’s our contention that they’ll be in a relatively tight formation, so our carrier fleet can’t single them out and try to destroy them one at a time. A close configuration would work in our favor. Even if we didn’t destroy the entire fleet, we’re confident that we could severely cripple any mother ships that manage to survive the initial blast, and that would make the Solar Warden fleet’s task of eliminating them much easier.”
“Not to mention thin out their saucer squadrons,” Hutch added.
“Gentlemen,” Reynolds said, “this is the tip of our spear. This will work. It has to work.”
“But this entire plan is predicated on their shields being inactive at the time,” Vice Admiral Gibson said.
“Yes Sir, but as you’re aware, we have sensor buoys deployed across the solar system, and they’re on continuous scan,” Scarecrow replied. “We can use their telemetry to determine the status of the enemy’s shields. If they’re down when we’re ready to launch our attack, then we have a go.”
“And if they’re not?” General Patrick added.
“Well Sir, I didn’t want to present this strategy without a plan ‘B.’ If their shields are active, we can launch a series of cloaked missiles, and time our transport of the Corseque warhead with their impact on the targeted LCMS. The enemy vessel’s shields should fluctuate from the missile detonation sufficiently to allow our transport to be successful. The timing of this would be tricky, but crucial.”
“And what class of missiles would you employ?” Patrick asked, attempting to stretch Scarecrow’s knowledge of Solar Warden ordnance.
“General, I suggest we use 14 Mark VII, STS-41 Yari missiles. They have cloaking capabilities, and 14 of them have sufficient yield, that detonating simultaneously should cause the enemy mother ships’ shields to fluctuate just enough to allow our transporter to penetrate those same shields, Sir.”
“Sounds pretty risky, Commander,” Gibson said. “We’ve got a lot riding on some very dicey tactics.”
“I agree, Admiral.” Scarecrow hesitated, reluctant to verbalize what everyone was already thinking. “If we’re unable to make this strategy work, then all of our jobs become, by orders of magnitude, much more difficult.”