Frontiers Saga 12: Rise of the Alliance (13 page)

“Jump complete!”

“I have a firing solution!” the lieutenant announced.

“Fire at will! And don’t stop!” Nathan ordered.

“Firing triplets on all weapons,” the lieutenant acknowledged. “Torpedoes and cannons.”

The Aurora’s bridge was awash with both the red-orange light of the plasma shots as well as the yellow flashes marking their impacts. The plasma shots continued to pound the aft shields of the massive battleship, causing them to flash an opaque white with each impact.

“Her shields are down fifty percent!” Mister Navashee exclaimed.

“Continue firing!” Nathan ordered.

“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant acknowledged.

“Range to target, five hundred meters and increasing!” Mister Navashee reported. “Target’s shields at twenty-five percent and falling!”

“Plasma cannons are overheating,” Lieutenant Eckert warned.

“Her aft shields are failing!” Mister Navashee exclaimed.

“Torpedoes only!” Nathan ordered. “Continue firing triplets!”

“Torpedoes only, triplets, aye!”

Nathan watched as their next four torpedoes slammed into the stern of the battleship, destroying her main propulsion nozzles.

“Target has lost main propulsion!” Mister Navashee announced.

“She’s yawing to starboard!” Lieutenant Eckert pointed out.

“She’s trying to bring her shielded side to us,” Nathan said. He watched as the next few torpedoes impacted the aft-most portion of the battleship’s starboard shields.

“I’m losing the angle on her unshielded side,” the lieutenant announced.

“Cease fire,” Nathan ordered. He turned toward Mister Navashee. “Where are our Falcons?”

“I show four of them standing off just outside of the target’s defensive perimeter,” Mister Navashee answered.

“They’re probably waiting for us to jump clear before they start their next attack run,” the lieutenant surmised.

“Comms, order those Falcons to join up with Bravo flight to help press the attack on the battle platform,” Nathan ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Naralena acknowledged.

“Mister Riley, execute jump eight,” Nathan added.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Eckert began, “if we come about to starboard we can move in behind her and…”

“She’s yawing not only to keep her shields on us, but to bring her big guns into play as well,” Nathan told him. “Besides, we’ve got a timetable to keep, Lieutenant,” Nathan reminded him, “and with her mains destroyed, she’s not going anywhere. Comms, attempt to make contact with the Celestia. Let her know about the target’s unshielded stern.”

“Firing triplets, all forward tubes!” Luis announced from the Celestia’s tactical station. “Firing port plasma cannons!”

Cameron stared at the image of the Jung battle platform that nearly filled their main view screen. “Damn, that thing is big,” she mumbled. “What magnification are we at?”

“Zero,” Ensign Hunt responded from the helm, glancing back at his captain over his left shoulder.

Cameron could see by the look in her helmsman’s eyes that he found the target equally impressive in size. “Damn.”

“Target is firing!” Ensign Kono warned from the sensor station. “Big guns!”

“Brace for fire!” Cameron ordered.

“She’s firing missiles as well!” Ensign Kono added. “Missile impact in ten seconds!”

The entire ship suddenly rolled hard to port as something struck their starboard side.

“Hull breach!” Ensign Souza called from the comm station. “Starboard underside! Inner hull is still intact! Damage control is reporting loss of all propellant in the forward tank on the starboard side!”

“Are we having any effect on their shields?” Cameron wondered.

“Not much, sir!” Ensign Kono answered. “Less than ten percent in three of her shields on her forward arm!”

“Did the Falcons even touch her?”

“I’ve only counted eight damaged emitters, and a few damaged defensive batteries, sir!”

The bridge shook again as another massive rail gun round tore into the side of the Celestia.

“Damn it!” Cameron swore, slightly losing her composure as she was nearly tossed from her command chair. “Jump us out of here!”

“Celestia has jumped!” the weapons officer reported from the back of Alpha Leader’s cockpit.

“
Bravo Leader to all units,
” the voice called across their helmet comms. “
We start our next attack run in thirty seconds. Keep your speed up as much as possible and maintain your evasive maneuvers. We’ll attack her forward arm again. Target her emitters only! If we don’t get at least one of her shields down, we don’t stand a chance of destroying her!
”

“Attack jump plotted and locked,” the weapons officer reported.

“Here we go again,” the pilot mumbled.

“Just don’t try to jump us through her shields again.”

“No promises.”

“Jumping in three……two……one……”

Their helmet visors turned opaque as their jump flashed washed over them once more. When their visors cleared a second later, the hull of the battle platform loomed large outside their canopy. The pilot pulled back hard on his control stick to level off only one hundred meters above the top of the platform’s forward arm.

“Close enough?” the weapons officer asked as he opened fire with their nose turret.

“Nope,” the pilot answered as he squeezed the trigger on his flight control stick to fire the plasma cannons in his wings. Short bolts of plasma energy from their wing cannons flashed yellow against the hull of the battle platform, tearing apart items on the surface of its thick hull. He jerked his Falcon from side to side in wide sweeps, changing the rate and direction, as well as the distance between them and the surface of the massive platform at random intervals.

Streams of rail gun fire poured from the surface of the platform directly ahead of them. “They’re laying down a point-defense wall!” the weapons officer warned. “Directly ahead of us!”

“Can we fly through it?” the pilot asked.

“Part of us can!”

The pilot glanced at his threat display screen, noticing something. “I’ve got an idea!” he announced as he eased his stick forward and moved their ship closer to the platform’s hull.

“What are you going to do, land?” the weapons officer quipped.

“See that inverted V between their streams of fire?” the pilot called out. “I’m going to duck us down through there and out the other side!”

“The other side is the forward wall of the port arm!” the weapons officer reminded him. “We’ll slam right into it!”

“Not if I decelerate!”

“Slow us down? Are you nuts?”

“We’ll dive straight down between the arms!” the pilot insisted. “They can’t fire on us there, not without hitting their own ship.”

“They can fire on us when we come out the other side!”

“I never said my plan was perfect,” the pilot admitted.

The Falcon skimmed the surface of the battle platform, a mere twenty meters above it, ducking between two banks of defensive batteries that were sweeping their barrels across the space above them. As it passed between them, the ship passed between the weapons, it pitched over, nose-to-tail, to fly tail first. The Falcon fired its main engines at full power for a full second, reducing its speed considerably before it pitched over another forty-five degrees and fired its main engines again, blasting downward between the massive arms of the battle platform.

“We’re still drifting toward the port arm!” the weapons officer warned, the tension in his voice building.

“I know! I know!” the pilot answered as he adjusted their pitch to attempt to correct the drift. He glanced upward at the shadowy hull of the platform’s port arm as they slid past on their way out the other side. A few seconds later, just as the hull appeared close enough to reach out and touch, it disappeared completely. “Yes!” the pilot declared triumphantly. A moment later, several small rail gun rounds danced across their starboard wing, reminding him that they were far from being out of danger. “Crap! Give me an escape vector!”

“Two four seven!” the weapons officer answered. “Any speed!”

The pilot pitched their nose a bit more and yawed slightly to port. “Two four seven!”

“Jumping!” the weapons officer announced as their visors turned opaque once more and the jump flash washed over them.

A second later their visors cleared, and they were out of danger once again.

The pilot took in a deep breath and exhaled. “God, I hope we don’t have to do that too many more times!” He turned his head, looking over his right shoulder at his weapons officer behind him. “You okay back there?”

“Other than my urine-soaked suit, I’m fine.”

The pilot looked forward again, checking his flight systems for any signs of damage. “Did we even hit anything on that pass?”

“Doubtful,” the weapons officer answered. “Not with the way you were jerking us around and all.”

“Jump eight, complete,” Mister Riley reported.

“Platform is five kilometers out, five hundred meters below and starboard of our course,” Mister Navashee reported. “I’m picking up minor fluctuations in several of their forward shields, including a single shield failure on the starboard side of their forward arm.”

“Target the area of the failed shield, Lieutenant,” Nathan ordered.

“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant acknowledged from the Aurora’s tactical station.

“I’m only showing eight Falcons at the standoff point,” Mister Navashee added. “Target is firing! Rail guns and missiles! Impact in ten seconds!”

“Firing all forward tubes!” Lieutenant Eckert announced. “Firing all plasma cannons!”

“Stand by to jump us out,” Nathan ordered.

“Jump nine, plotted and ready,” Mister Riley assured him.

“Five seconds!” Mister Navashee warned.

“All weapons away!”

“Snap jump!” Nathan ordered.

“Jumping!” the navigator answered.

The blue-white jump flash washed over the bridge as Nathan turned to face port. “Scan the platform for damage. I want to know if any of our weapons made it to their hull.”

“From this position, there’s a twenty second delay due to distance, sir.”

“Understood.”

“Coming about for next jump,” Mister Chiles reported from the helm.

“Very well.” He rotated his chair further to his left to face his tactical officer directly behind him. “Eight Falcons, after only three total passes.”

“At that rate, they’ll be wiped out in three more,” the lieutenant pointed out.

“More like two,” Nathan commented. “That platform’s weapons systems probably get more dialed in with each wave, and there’s only so much evasive action those pilots can make at those speeds.” Nathan sighed. “Comms, broadcast an order to those Falcons. They are to disengage and await further orders when they get down to four ships remaining.”

“Yes, sir,” Naralena answered.

“I’m getting sensor data from our last attack,” Mister Navashee reported. “Two of our torpedoes made it through and impacted the hull, but the damage was minimal. Surface only, no breaches to their hull.”

“Any chance we made the hole bigger?” Nathan hoped.

“No, sir.”

“Comms, add to the message. Tell the Falcons to concentrate on opening up that hole.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s going to make their flight paths easier to predict,” Lieutenant Eckert warned.

“I know, Lieutenant,” Nathan admitted solemnly, “I know.”

“Turn completion in two minutes,” Ensign Hunt reported from the Celestia’s helm.

“That is one agonizingly slow turn,” Luis commented from the tactical station.

“You’ve got that right,” Ensign Hunt grumbled.

“Can’t be helped,” Cameron reminded them. “We’ve got to give the Aurora time to get into position. We can’t all be jumping into the same target at the same time.” Cameron turned to look back over her shoulder at Luis. “How are our cannons holding out?”

“They’re getting pretty hot, sir,” Luis warned, “but at least this slow turning is giving them time to cool down a bit more. They should hold.”

“How is our propellant holding up, Ensign?” Cameron asked her helmsman.

“Lost more than half of the starboard tank,” Ensign Hunt reported. “They were able to transfer about a third of it into another tank before it vented completely. We’ve still got more than enough propellant to continue, though.”

“Very well. How are we doing on casualties?” Cameron called over her shoulder to her comms officer.

“Five dead, eleven wounded. Four of them need to be transferred to the Aurora for surgery as soon as possible,” Ensign Souza reported.

“Very well,” Cameron responded without reaction. She wondered how long it would take to become accustomed to people dying under her command.

“Jesus! They’re getting slaughtered down there!” Josh exclaimed as he watched the sensor data being displayed on-screen from the Falcon’s latest attack run on the Jung battle platform.

“Don’t even think about it,” Loki warned as he too monitored the sensor readings.

“Think about what?” Josh defended.

“About jumping us in there to pull off some super-Josh-pilot-maneuver to save the day… That’s what.”

“But…”

“There’s nothing you can do that they aren’t already doing, Josh, and you know it.”

“But it worked before!”

“Just because it worked on one platform doesn’t mean it will work on every platform. Maybe this one has faster gun turrets? Or maybe this one has better tracking systems, or a better commander, or a…”

“All right, all right!” Josh interrupted. “You’ve made your point.” Josh sighed. “It’s just hard to sit here and watch them die, you know?”

“I know,” Loki agreed, “but it’s not our call. Unless ordered otherwise, we sit here and wait… and watch.”

“I can handle the waiting,” Josh said. “It’s the watching that’s hard.” One of the icons on his display screen representing the attacking Falcons suddenly flashed red, then faded away. “Jesus, there goes another one. They’re down to five, Loki.”

“Jump ten, complete,” Mister Riley announced as the Aurora’s jump flash faded, returning the bridge to its usual red-tinged battle lighting.