The Slaver Wars: First Strike (The Slaver Wars Book Four) (22 page)

Admiral Tolsen
felt the WarHawk take another hard jolt, and the lights in the Command Center flickered briefly. On the damage control board, he saw a large number of
lights suddenly turn a glaring red. Then the ship seemed to be kicked solidly
in the side.

“A nuke’s made
it through our shields!” screamed Beck, grabbing for the edge of the plotting
table only to be thrown violently to the floor.

Several
consoles exploded, sending showers of bright sparks across the Command Center. Admiral Tolsen could hear people screaming. The ship shuddered again as
more Hocklyn ordnance pounded her hull. The Command Center began to fill with
smoke. He knew the WarHawk was taking heavy, if not fatal damage.

“Shields are
down,” Tactical reported frantically as the WarHawk continued to fire every
weapon she could bring to bear.

Tolsen knew
that, without shields, his flagship wouldn’t last long. With great sadness, he
knew the WarHawk was dying around him.

The shuddering
lessened and seemed to stop. “What’s going on?” he demanded, looking over at
Lieutenant Anders. Colonel Beck was getting back up with a wicked looking cut
across his cheek bleeding profusely.

“The Monarch
cruiser Caledonia has taken up position in front of us,” Anders responded. “The
Hocklyns have shifted their fire to her.”

“Get our
shields back up,” Tolsen ordered with a grim look upon his face. He knew as
badly damaged as the Caledonia was she wouldn’t last long under bombardment
from a dreadnought.

“Working on
it,” Colonel Beck replied as he talked frantically to Engineering.

“Get crews
working on the damage!” Tolsen ordered the officer at damage control.
“Concentrate on the fires and get all the protective bulkheads closed. We’re
bleeding too much damn air!”

“Crews are
being dispatched,” the officer reported as he passed on his orders over his
mini-com. Then he turned and looked gravely at the admiral. “We have numerous
fires that are being reported out of control and many compartments that are in a
vacuum, some we can do nothing about. We just don’t have the people.”

Tolsen nodded
his understanding, his face turning grim. He feared that his flagship was
mortally wounded. He gazed around the Command Center and noted the worried and
frightened looks on the crew.

“Fight the
ship, people,” he ordered, trying to sound as calm as possible. “Admiral Adler
and Third Fleet will be here shortly.”

 “Admiral,
Engineering is reporting that they have several fires that are out of control
in the engineering spaces,” Colonel Beck reported bleakly, and then he passed
on more bad news. “The main fusion reactor is down, and we are running on the
auxiliaries. They say it will take at least an hour to knock out the fires and to
repair the main reactor.”

“We don’t have
an hour, Peter,” Tolsen spoke quietly to his executive officer, his eyes
showing his deep concern.

“I know,” Beck
replied with a slight nod of acknowledgement of what was in store for them if Admiral
Adler didn’t arrive shortly.

On the main
viewscreen, someone had switched it to show the Caledonia. The valiant Monarch
cruiser’s screens were covered with exploding ordnance. Bright flashes of light
blasted at the energy screen, trying to knock it down. Occasionally it would
weaken in a spot and a railgun round or missile would penetrate, smashing into
the hull and causing damage to the valiant cruiser. Its hull was already
pockmarked with heavy damage, and fires could be seen burning where escaping
air was bleeding from the ship. Its hull was glowing cherry-red in numerous
places.

“What about
our bomber strike?” asked Tolsen, looking at the tactical display. “What
happened with it?”

“Not good,”
Beck responded as he studied the information on the tactical computer screen. A
medic was applying a bandage to his cheek to help stop the bleeding from his
wound. “Most of it was wiped out by Hocklyn defensive fire and the few that got
through caused some damage but not enough to make a difference.”

Admiral Tolsen
let out a deep breath. So many good people were dying, and there was nothing he
could do to stop it. He clenched his fist in anger as he watched the Caledonia on the viewscreen.

On the main
viewscreen, half a dozen blue Hocklyn energy beams suddenly stuck the Caledonia simultaneously. The ship’s screen wavered and then failed completely. Missiles
and railgun rounds ravaged the hull, causing massive explosions. Even as Admiral
Tolsen watched, the ship started to break apart, at which point her self-destructs
initiated, blasting the heavy Monarch cruiser to oblivion.

“It will be
our turn again now,” Colonel Beck said calmly, knowing the end for the WarHawk
was close.

“Our energy
screen?” asked Tolsen his eyes focusing on Peter, knowing that, without it,
they were doomed.

“No, Sir,”
Beck responded in a lower voice. “Too many power conduits have been destroyed.
We’re trying to reroute power, but it will take time.”

On the main viewscreen,
a blue energy beam seemed to lash out at the WarHawk, and the screen became
covered with static. The ship began shaking violently, and Tolsen could
actually hear distant explosions. People were screaming, and frantic cries for help
could be heard over his mini-com.

“The rest of
our fleet’s arrived,” Lieutenant Anders called out jubilantly as a massive
explosion rocked the WarHawk.

The entire Command Center seemed to be hurled upward. The last thing Admiral Tolsen saw before he lost
consciousness was a massive metal beam falling and crushing Colonel Beck. Then
everything went black.

-

War Leader
Tantil cursed as the rest of the reinforcing human fleet stormed into combat
range. He was now outnumbered and in an untenable position. The human flagship
was out of action and burning. On the main viewscreen, he could see numerous
fires burning inside the ravaged ship where there was still oxygen. Occasionally
an explosion would rattle the human ship, throwing more debris into space. He
doubted if any humans were still alive on it. There was only one thing left for
him to do.

“First Leader
Klessen, prepare to advance and engage the enemy. We are outnumbered, and our
ships are heavily damaged. In death, there will be honor.”

First Leader
Klessen heard the words and knew what the War Leader was expecting. They were
cut off from War Leader Bisth with a numerically superior enemy bearing down on
them; there was only one clear choice.

Seeking to
enhance their honor, twelve Hocklyn ships hurled themselves at the approaching enemy
in a mad rush. The human ships opened up a horrendous fire of power beams,
lasers, missiles, and railguns. The screens on the charging Hocklyn ships were
covered in bright explosions from detonating ordnance. Several screens wavered
and went down, allowing the weapons fire to impact the now unprotected hulls.
Two more escort cruisers exploded in bright fury just short of the human fleet.
Then the Hocklyns were amongst the human ships and still accelerating, but now
their weapons fell silent as their ships became the weapons.

-

Jeremy watched
stunned as ten human warships vanished in massive fireballs as the Hocklyn
ships rammed the surprised human fleet.

“Oh my God!”
Jeremy heard Kelsey scream as one of the viewscreens next to Ariel showed the
extent of the destruction and fleet losses.

“Lieutenant
DeSota,” Jeremy spoke quickly to Angela. “Contact those surviving ships and Tolsen’s
survivors and have them join up with us.”

“Helm, bring
us to a dead stop until the other ships can reach us. Lieutenant Walters, how
soon before that new Hocklyn fleet reaches extreme weapons range?”

“Ten minutes,”
Kevin responded with a grim look. “It will take Tolsen’s survivors six to eight
minutes to reach us.

“Very well,”
Jeremy replied as he weighed his options. Looking across the Command Center, he knew his people were depending on him to make the right decision.

“We’re still
going to be outnumbered,” Colonel Malen spoke as she looked at the opposing
Hocklyn fleet that was steadily approaching. “We can’t stand up to four dreadnoughts
and twelve war cruisers. We need Admiral Adler’s fleet!”

Jeremy leaned
back and gazed at the tactical display. He had forty-eight Hocklyn warships
bearing down on him. His fleet had to be maneuvering before the Hocklyns
reached weapons range or his ships would make easy targets. Even with the
survivors from Tolsen’s fleet, he would be badly outnumbered. Looking at the
main sensor screen, he wondered where Admiral Adler and Admiral Streth were.
They had to be on their way by now.

-

Admiral Streth
gazed unflinchingly at the WarStorm’s tactical display. He had watched
unsurprised as the surviving Hocklyn ships had crashed headlong into the
incoming human fleet. A Hocklyn did not retreat from battle, it was better to
die in combat than to return home without honor. It was a lesson they would
have to remember in future engagements.

“Ten more
ships gone,” Amanda reported as she glanced worriedly at the data coming in.
“Even when Tolsen’s survivors get to Admiral Strong, the Hocklyns will still
have a numerical advantage and far more firepower. They have too many capital
ships, and he won’t stand a chance.”

“Any word on
Admiral Tolsen?” Hedon asked as he weighed his options.

He had already
countermanded Admiral Tolsen’s orders to Admiral Adler. Hedon wanted to destroy
this Hocklyn fleet and in order to do that it had to be heavily engaged with
Admiral Strong’s forces. If he jumped in too early, there was a chance some of
the ships might escape and spread word back to the Hocklyn Empire.

“The WarHawk
is heavily damaged,” Commander Evans responded as she listened to the battle
over her mini-com. “We’re lucky her self-destructs didn’t go off. The light cruiser
StarFly has come alongside her and is sending rescue teams over to search for
survivors. There is no communication with the ship.”

Admiral Streth
nodded. He hoped Admiral Tolsen survived, but he had come to know that, in war,
there were no guarantees. He turned to face Amanda and Commander Evans. “Here
is what I want to do. We have two Hocklyn forces to contend with, the one
Admiral Strong is facing and the one attacking Caden’s World.” Hedon quickly
outlined his plan. It was risky, but it should work.

-

Captain
Krandle watched apprehensively as the approaching Hocklyn warships swept more
of her defensive satellites away. Their missile strike had failed dismally as
they had launched from extreme range, giving the Hocklyns plenty of time to
intercept. Not only that, but the Hocklyns were now launching their own fighters
and shooting down every missile launched and destroying more of the precious
defense satellites.

“Our warships
will be engaging soon,” General Abercrombie commented as he watched the sensor
screen and the Hocklyn fleet coming toward them. He had hoped to be able to
damage them with the orbital missile platforms, but that had failed miserably.

“They won’t be
able to stop them,” spoke Lucy worriedly, seeing how badly outnumbered they
would be. “They don’t have the firepower.”

“No, they
don’t,” General Abercrombie agreed in a solemn voice. “We never expected the Hocklyns
to attack in these numbers. I suspect that Admiral Streth will be appearing
shortly. His fleet can handle this, but until then we’re going to be on our
own. I hate to say this, but we need to evacuate to the auxiliary Command Center. This operations center will be the prime target.”

Lucy nodded; she
understood what needed to be done. She turned to a corporal standing behind
her. “Corporal Higgins, set the self-destructs for thirty minutes.” She then
turned to a pale looking Adam Severson. “We’re evacuating; the Hocklyns are
going to make orbit.”

Severson
nodded as he began giving instructions to his remaining people, making sure
they had either were on the way to the deep underground bunkers or already
there. It had taken him and his people years of backbreaking work to make
Caden’s World a good place to live for its 20,000 inhabitants. Now that was
over, the population had been evacuated, and it was a warzone. He wondered
dismally if there would be anything left to rebuild after the Hocklyns got
through.

-

Jeremy watched
tensely as the Hocklyn fleet maneuvered in front of his position. The survivors
from Admiral Tolsen’s force had finally made rendezvous, and he was hurriedly
melding them into his fleet.

“Total fleet
count, including ours, are two battle cruisers, two battle carriers, two strike
cruisers, four Monarch cruisers, twelve light cruisers, and eighteen destroyers,”
Lieutenant Walters reported. “Sir, a number of Tolsen’s ships are heavily
damaged and are barely combat worthy.”

“Keep the more
heavily damaged ships to the back of our formation,” ordered Jeremy, looking
over at Colonel Malen. “What about the carrier?”

“The surviving
carrier is the Independence, and most of her flight squadrons have been
decimated,” responded Colonel Malen, grimly. “Commander Arie is reporting that
she has only one squadron of fighters and half a squadron of bombers left.”

“Hocklyns are
advancing, Sir,” Lieutenant Walters reported suddenly, his eyes focused on his
sensor screen.

“Let’s go get
them, Colonel,” Jeremy ordered with resolve in his eyes. “Hold the two battle
carriers back; we will need their fighters, and they can help cover the damaged
ships.”

“I wish we
would hear something from Admiral Streth,” Angela commented over her secure
line to Kelsey. “Where is he?”

“Patience,
Angela,” replied Kelsey, trying her best to keep her voice calm. “Jeremy is
here, and he will win this battle, he’s too good not to.”

Angela was
silent as she looked over at Kevin. He was quiet, not trusting his voice to say
anything. He only nodded and then turned back to his sensors.