"Well, I guess they waited as long as they could," Nolsus said in a resigned tone. The red light codes for the Axis ships in the holoimager turned and moved away from the amber-colored one used to represent the anchorage. "They could've got more distance had they left upon learning about our reinforcements. It still wouldn't have mattered, due to the speed difference."
"That may have well been their commander's thinking," opined Fensha. "Those new shuttles have the speed to catch up to their motherships. Perhaps they weren't so willing to readily abandon the boarding troops. Morale may be as important to the Axis as it is to us."
"I hardly thought that would be problem for them, Commodore. They wrecked our bases like college students on a weekend bender. Only our command post and the sick bays have remained untouched."
"Not for a lack of trying, Nolsus. What remains of the boarders wouldn't even fill one of the three shuttles still attached our hull."
Just at that moment the icon for fighter base Shark Reef-07 blinked, followed by a white dot speeding away on a heading towards the retiring Axis units. "That's the last one from that base, Commodore," said Mokana, the operations officer, working from the master plot station. "We'll be receiving their revised damage assessment in ten minutes."
Expecting no further action it came as a surprise to see a blue icon appear from Shark Reef-07, trailing only half a light-second behind the Axis shuttle. And, just as quick, the enemy craft was blotted from space, its icon in the imager fading and then disappearing altogether. The blue icon came about and returned to its launch point. "That base still had its pinnace," quipped Nolsus. "So does Lagoon-02, but now the three remaining Axis shuttle pilots will be ready. They're going to leave as a group instead of singletons."
Fensha blinked slowly to show his approval. "That was a fine display of initiative. Inform the other base commanders to have their pinnaces launch at moment the shuttles lift-off from our hull. Taking out one more shuttle may mean the difference between victory and defeat for Davke and Simm."
********
Lt. Tes lead the last reserve squad of station security, made up Terpla'ns, to the nearest entry point made by one of the remaining Axis shuttles. There was no overt need for him to be involved in combat at this point, now that the enemy was in full retreat towards their only means of escape. He had already lead a commendable effort in the defense of the base at his command post, directing squads of both regular security and armed base personnel to maximum advantage against an enemy that took the simple expedient of blasting bulkheads open to create a route of advance. Being at the command post did have the disadvantage, however, of hearing all those distress calls of squads of being pinned and then cut down without the option of turning off the volume or the video feed. More importantly, Tes felt that his personal bravery was being called into question for his command in a position of relative safety. To an E'sani it's an imperative to act on one's bravery when called upon to action. His conscious, and the souls of the fallen, demanded no less.
Tes signaled his squad to stop just shy of an intersection. Debris littered the passageway, and the emergency lighting bathed the scene with a dull red color. Consulting the map displayed on his visor, Tes saw that the entry point was just twenty meters away right in the heart of once was a rec center. The borders had blasted open one wall of the compartment, thus explaining the debris. He grabbed what appeared to be a round grenade from his utility webbing, and after rolling it in his huge gloved hand like a giant marble tossed it into the ruined rec center. There was no immediate response, and the grenade was actually a tactical sensor. A trio of tiny legs popped out of the grenade, halting its journey across the floor. Tes saw through the dedicated panoramic feed that there were no Axis boarders in the area. He did notice that the mouth of the boarding tube jutted half a meter down from the ceiling. With not ladder evident the boarders had to be tractored up into their shuttle.
Carrying a pulsar in one hand Tes pulled another item off his utility webbing. It was one of the Axis ‘black bricks’, and after observing how several squads of Axis boarders used the bricks in relation to the boarding tubes an idea was born in Tes’ brain. He motioned his squad to take up positions to intercept any boarders, taking two Terps with him into the rec center. What was once a place where Whale crews could down cool drinks and eat fired mackerel could now be mistaken as the aftermath of a firefighting exercise. Some of the chairs and fixtures were melted and fuzed to the floor, and a mural depicting a Whale firing away at an unseen target was burnt in its entirety. With his two guards at his back Tes walked under the three-meter-wide boarding tube. Giving last minute instructions via suit skin contact Tes held up the black brick and pressed, gently for an E’sani, the recessed button on the underside. A hum was heard, and then the sensation of weightlessness as the trio was drawn up into the craft.
Working the boarding tube controls on the shuttle was an anxious crewmember. He was the assistant flight engineer, and one of his primary responsibilities was operating the life support equipment. Also included in his duties was the operation of the shuttle’s two airlocks and the boarding tube. This was his first deployment since joining the AFC a mere six months ago, and while he was glad that the schooling was over he wanted to be somewhere else that very moment. Having already cheated death in the exchange with the enemy’s small craft, the attack on the base and the intense landing sequence the engineer didn’t want to press his luck. He heard what happened to the last shuttle that lifted off from the other big base, hoping that jerk of a weapons officer on the flight deck was quicker on the point defense than the enemy.
A warble at the control panel told the engineer that a group of boarders was below the tube, ready to be picked up. He pressed the tractor button and went to the hatch, waiting for the cycle to complete and render assistance if there were any wounded. Because he acted so promptly he didn’t bother to look at the video feed or even the contamination filter scan readouts. Had he done so, and had remembered to engage the emergency overrides, then things would’ve been different. But it wasn’t entirely his fault, for the designers of the shuttle had failed to include a simple viewport on the hatch. Now, had that feature been present then the engineer could’ve used the manual floor iris controls and dumped whoever was in the tube back down onto the floor below. So, instead of seeing boarders he got a mountain of an E’sani in a combat pressure suit before him when the hatch opened wide. The two suited Terpla’ns behind the biped mountain didn’t even register in the engineer’s frozen mind.
Tes’ gloved hand didn’t so much cover the engineer’s face but enveloped the entire helmet-covered head. He imagined that he was squeezing a grapefruit, the way his grandmother always did back at home, and never failing to make the delicious orb rupture and spray. When he relaxed his grip the body of the engineer fell to the floor in a heap, the interior of the helmet coated in blood. Now in the shuttle proper Tes has his two guards go aft to secure the engine compartment. Scans during the battle have shown there were six crewmembers on each shuttle and with one accounted for that left five – one aft and four on the flight deck forward. With safety off on his pulsar and combat knife in his free hand Tes moved quickly, knowing that success was all that separated the brave from the foolhardy.
********
Flag Captain Simm, commander of Task Element 114.1, rubbed his wool-covered chin while contemplating the impending action with the Axis force. He was conferring over a conference link with Captain Bensae, commander of the pinnace tenders, along with Davke and Lt. Hevv, the Tzelan commander of the task element’s strike wing. “It was a likely maneuver on their part, Bensae. Even with life support and laser packs our F2s wouldn’t be able to catch up to them.”
If a Terpla’n had shoulders then Bansae would’ve shrugged. “Hopefully all they got was just unimportant messages and videos from the unsecured cache files on the bases. I wonder how they’ll react if all they got were episodes of
Return to the Planet of the Khanates?”
“Being what they are, they’ll think it was about them.” Simm smiled. One hour after receiving news from the Shunt warp point the Axis force pulled stakes from the anchorage and moved at 0.05
c towards their entry warp point. There was no way the big dreadnought-sized shuttle tenders and the undersized corvettes would get there in time, and even the escort cruisers would be overrun by Simm’s trio of
Okado class DDs. It was the three Axis scouts that had reached the anchorage ahead of the main force that stood the best chance of escaping, providing that their detuned engines held out long enough. “Hevv and Davke, the enemy will strive to reduce our fighter and pinnace strength while at the same time crippling our ships so that we’re unable to close on their tenders. We’ll be doing the same, with the priority given to the elimination of those new shuttles followed by the three frigates. Once that’s done, we’ll be able to bring our
Okados forward and in conjunction with the
Privateers finish off the rest of the Axis ships without further loss to our flight groups.”
“It’ll be done, Sir,” said Hevv. “The maneuver we have plan for them should achieve favorable results.”
“My Whale crews are eager, Flag Captain, though we rather be shoving ordnance up their exhaust ports,” chimed an irrepressible Davke. “Just let us have an opportunity to fire those new stand-off missiles should the opportunity arise.”
Simm fished out the pipe he had in his uniform jacket and held it in his hand like a sage about to dispense wisdom. “Provided that our losses aren’t prohibitive I’ll give it some consideration, Davke.”
On the
Falconer two officers walked out of the portside pilot ready room and directly into shuttle bay #7. A Stiletto escort shuttle, armed and prepped for launch, was waiting for one of the officers to board so it could be launched to join the others. The older officer, his vac suit helmet under one arm, shook the hand of the younger with his free hand. “An impassioned, persuasive speech you made, Fanmet. You could find work delivering patriotic oratory for the People’s Office of Welfare.”
“I just may do that after the war, Larpon. Those meddlers coming after us will have their legs hobbled and arms limp after we’re done with them.” As Fanmet spoke his sense of exhilaration was palatable to the older officer. In under a minute the shuttle commander had convinced Prime Commander Ashton to change her mind, so instead of staying aboard he was going to command the remaining Stilettos in combat. “Your point defense crews will have nothing to do other than cheer our success.”
“Perhaps you can spare a ravaged squadron or two. I think my crew will appreciate the opportunity to immolate some fighters in actual combat,” Larpon said in jest. “Nevertheless, come back so that you can train more pilots to fill these hanger bays to capacity for the battles to come.”
“I will, Commander.” Saluting smartly, Fanmet donned his helmet and sealed it as he went up the boarding ramp. Back in the pilot ready room Larpon watched from behind the clearsteel viewport as the Stiletto was launched before heading back to the bridge. He sincerely hoped that Fanmet would be successful in breaking the enemy. From the numbers the Abom force was composed of 3 BCs, 3 CLs, 4 know CVEs, 5 DDs and 3 FGs. They were moving twice as fast as the
Falconer, preceded by no less than 54 armed pinnaces and 48 fighters. Opposing them were 127 Stilettos, 4 Hatchets, and six regular assault shuttles. There would’ve been 130 Stilettos, but two were shot down while leaving the anchorage by a like number of regular Abom pinnaces (and in turn were themselves shot down). One was still attached to the hull of a base, and was in all likelihood disabled by means unknown. Hopefully the crew destroyed any sensitive material to prevent captured by the enemy.
Back on the bridge Larpon sat in his preferred chair at the holoimager. He adjusted the situational display so that all contacts within 30 light-seconds were represented. The first Abom formation, containing the fighters and pinnaces, was 12 light-seconds behind the Axis ships. Five LS behind were the first group of ships, and five more LS beyond them was the second group containing the CVEs. Given the rate of closure, 1.5 LS per minute, the battle would commence presently. Larpon turned his chair. “Tactical, be ready to receive targeting orders from the flagship once the first group of enemy ships is within 6 light-seconds.”
“Yes, Commander.”
********
Davke worked his expectant energy by strumming his fingers on the armrests of his seat. He occupied the co-pilot’s position of his Whale armed pinnace, the
Wholly Mackerel, and had the tactical plot on his dedicated screen. The enemy made his move, waiting until the 6 light-second mark before turning those oversized shuttles around and making a shark line for the strikeforce. The three
Punch frigates also came about, accelerating to 0.117
c. Given the circumstances, and the demonstrated level of aggression from this particular Axis force, Davke bet his back pair of legs that they’ll attempt an overrun and then head for the battlecruisers. They had both the speed to outrun the Whales and the reach to swat down Sharks that attempt to close.
The maneuver Davke had in mind had the virtue of never having been tried before, both in the field and in training. It should’ve been obvious in light of the fact that the Axis would develop their copy of the armed pinnace, and that’s not even mentioning this new type of shuttle. A part of Davke that was the dark, cool professional was thankful that the pinnace commander at the anchorage didn’t do something similar on the fly, being so badly outnumbered that any desperate idea would’ve been tired. That would’ve alerted the enemy and in turn lead to inspired countermeasures. Another part of Davke had wished his students did perform the trick, and in doing so caused more losses for the enemy. Now fate gave him the opportunity to inflict revenge for the fallen. An icon on Davke’s screen blinked red, prompting him to speak into his suit’s microphone. “All units - circus, circus, circus!”
Fanmet, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat of his Stiletto, was experiencing the thrill of his life. This marked the first time he directly participated in space combat. He made himself swear that, from this point forward, he would regale his future children and grandchildren with this exploit first when asked for war stories. In a moment the Stiletto’s fire control system will lock up on one of the Abom pinnaces and destroy it with direct malice, unlike the random death dispensed from an assault shuttle against a clot of Aboms.
Watching his formations selecting targets, Fanmet noticed something was amiss. The enemy was reducing speed for some reason, putting them three-fourths of light-second away instead of point-blank range as expected for the exchange. Even at that range at least 32 pinnaces would be consigned to an explosive death. Dread filled his face as the readout piteously rattled off data. Not one Stiletto was able to lock-on to any pinnace or fighter for that matter. As if to mock him a most unwelcomed warble spilled out of shuttle’s flight deck speakers, making the command pilot juke and weave to break the tentative weapons lock on his craft. A point defense missile passed within 20 kilometers of the shuttle, too far out for its kiloton-range warhead to do any damage but close enough to remind everyone on board of their mortality.
Swearing under his breath Fanmet saw the devastation wrought by point defense missiles and lasers from the Abom pinnaces and fighters. 46 Stilettos were shot down, each death more violent than expected as they had antimatter close-attack missiles on external racks. To engage in a mass melee now would surrender the initiative the Aboms, not when the battlecruisers and destroyers were still within reach. “Proceed to primary targets!” He yelled over the command frequency. “All units to engage enemy fighters and pinnaces with point defense only, target at will!”
The Stilettos blew right past the Whales, not slowing to use erratic maneuvering. In order to keep up the Whales had to dispense with their drive-induced ECM and rely solely on the ECM packs they carried. As for the Tzelan-crewed Firefly fighters they used a portion of their drive potential to augment the packs they carried in order to kept station with the Whales and opened up on the Axis craft at a distance of 0.25 LS. Brief, intense fireballs lit up both formations in the exchange. Pilots juked and dodged, breaking lock-ons while their gunners sought to make them. While they may have been trained well and fought with conviction the Stiletto crews were simply outgunned. While the allies lost five Fireflies and ten Whales the Axis only had three Stilettos remaining, backed up by the four Hatchets. Of the six regular assault shuttles only one remained from the long-range improved point defense fire from the
Phyr frigates.
Meanwhile the three
Punch frigates had slow dramatically, moving at 0.033
c while generating maximum ECM to complement their erratic maneuvers. They were now at a distance of 4.5 LS from the
Privateer tenders, optimum range for externally-mounted capital missiles. It was planned that once the Stilettos wrecked the tenders the
Punches would speed back up and seek an engagement with the
Okado destroyers. Seeing how they were such difficult targets at the moment Bansae held off on the order to open fire.
“Good work, boys and girls!” Davke shouted over the command frequency. “All Whales and Fireflies, fall in on me and engage the approaching enemy frigates!”
In contrast to Davke’s liveliness one could find Fanmet transfixed with rage. He had expected so much more, only to be let down in the clutch by the hands of Providence. There was no time for internal reflection on what may have swayed the universal force in the decision it handed down to this particular lowly mortal. With no hope of survival there only remained the sweet release one can find in victory. So motivated he hit the override control and personally piloted the Stiletto himself, leaving the command pilot nothing to do but watch as the grin on Fanmet’s boney face turn into a grotesque expression fixed with the rigor of death. Over the shuttle’s internal frequency one could hear him hum the tune of ‘Advance, My Nation’, one of the anthems of the Asteroid Axis.
The remaining assault shuttle made its run towards the tender
Cannucut with the intent on ramming. It missed, turning and coming about to give chase. From its vantage point it watched what happened to the paltry remnants of the strikeforce. Upon completing a relative turn to starboard a datagroup comprised of one BC, CL and FG opened up on a
Punch and on the four Hatchets. The laser warheads on the external capital missiles used by the Aboms were more powerful than expected, resulting in denuded armor that allowed the old-fashioned laser to reach inside and collapse the cargo hold of the first
Punch. All four Hatchets were consigned to fiery oblivion, denied the potential harm from their pure loads of FRAMs. One Stiletto fired its pair of FRAMs at the
Cannucut, taking down 80% of its shields. The second datagroup did the same to the second
Punch, yet only killed two of the three Stilettos, and the last one opened up on the
Cannucut again. With the rest of the shield brought down and its already damaged armor finished the big ship lost an engine room and sustained partial damage to another. The third datagroup only succeeded in removing one-third the armor of the third
Punch, and for that the tender
Almadra got nearly half its armor lazed off. As for point defense it was focused on the last Stiletto. With racks empty the craft’s resulting explosion was unexpectedly just as bright as a loaded one. It faded just as quickly as it erupted, no-one ever knowing that the craft’s energetic death was fueled by the hate felt by Fanmet.
The
Privateer tenders came about, putting as much distance between themselves and the now full-speed
Punches. With the Whales and Fireflies now in range for their laser packs the Axis ships knew they only had one shot, so they fired on the
Almadra again, finishing the armor and wrecking everything forward of the second engine room. Point defense only succeeded in nailing one more fighter before the trio were nickel and dimed to death by wrathful flight crews.
Simm, with pipe in hand, spoke into the connection that linked him to Bansae. “That almost settles it. We can rearm out strikegroup with the new standoff missiles and strip the remaining Axis ships of their external ordnance. Once that’s done we can come forward and release the
Okados. Even your
Privateers can participate.”
“My fellow captains won’t turn down that offer, Simm,” Bansae replied, holding a stick of mackerel jerky in his hand. “This may be the only opportunity that the
Cannucut and
Almadra would have a direct hand in dispatching enemy ships to the depths.”
“That’s generous of you, Bansae. Your
Curtys has earned a collection of engagement stars worthy of envy by battleships.”
“On a more serious note, Simm, may I suggest we launch all available shuttles and cutters to conduce search-and-rescue operations for those pilots and pinnace crews that survived the destruction of their craft?"
"Agreed. As they're not needed for combat have your smaller tenders serve as the collection point for rescued crews."
"Aye, Flag Captain," Bansae acknowledged before turning off the comm link.
As the formation slowed to match the speed of the huge Axis tenders the point defense gunners of the
Cannucut engaged and destroyed the last assault shuttle, bringing an end to the Axis stampede.
********
After witnessing the destruction of the strikeforce Larpon sat back down in his chair on the
Falconer’s bridge. The utter waste of fine crews and craft would make a more passionate man weep or yell. For Larpon his temper was leaven with prudence and experience. The old captain reasoned that had he lived, and gone through more combats, Fanmet’s zeal would have been seasoned with experience, Larpon was sure of it. As for the combat, could it have been handled differently? The Stilettos could’ve been held in their bays, enticing the enemy to come closer, or if
Punches remained with the ships longer. Such after-the-fact thinking wasn’t productive, but it served to pass the time until the enemy made their next more.
The Abom fighters and pinnaces landed on their carriers and tenders, undoubtedly to rearm. Shortly afterwards they did launch, flying in a group, towards the task group. As for the ships they were in a single group now too, though they kept just beyond 6 LS range. “Getting new orders from flagship, Sir,” said the Falconer’s helmsman. “We’re to present our portside to the enemy as they achieve a distance of 1.5 light-seconds.”
Larpon nodded. Such a move would briefly deny the enemy firing missiles in the blind spots of their targets. “Helm, acknowledge the order. Tactical, release control of our point defense to the escort cruiser.”
“Yes, Commander.”
On 18 bridges, and on 18 dedicated screens, a like number of tactical officers watched as the Abom strikeforce moved in at .1
c. 44 armed pinnaces and 42 fighters armed with FRAMs could destroy the whole force, though it remained in the realm of possibility that severe losses could be inflicted upon them. It didn’t turn out to be the case. Each Firefly, save for one in each squadron equipped with an ECCM pack, carried a full load of the new second-generation stand-off fighter missile with the equally new lasing warheads. They were all veterans too, making them more accurate in anti-shipping attacks. Just outside of interception by capital point defense, the Fireflies let loose with their missile storms. The Whales did likewise, also loaded with the new missiles. The experienced crews from the
Curtys and
Bayyar fired on the tenders, and with greater accuracy achieved more lock-ons for their loads. While no one ship was destroyed all had armor scoured with the undersized corvettes getting the worse in the one-sided exchange. The strike pulled back, and Larpon knew one more was in the offering for the enemy won’t put their ships in range of external ordnance until all the tenders and escort cruisers were streaming air from laser-ravaged flanks. In fact the cruiser that had its armor removed in the missile exchange with the bases sustained internal damage at this juncture, losing an engine room.
Ashton also figured there was going to be a second strike and was proven correct six minutes later. At just under the 3 LS mark the Axis ships moved at .033
c and employed what ECM and erratic maneuvering they could muster. It didn’t help in that all the ships lost more armor and all their external ordnance with two corvettes destroyed and one rendered engineless. In minutes that third corvette was vaporized by the
Okados in passing. Ashton knew, as well as all of those in the remaining ships, that there was no point in splitting up and running: not now, not even hours ago. Three Firefly squadrons, each fighter loaded with two stand-off missiles, went after the one
Fleet Tracker that followed the allied ships from the Shunt warp point. With their speed advantage they would eventually overhaul the scout before its abused engines could burn out. Six Whales went after the crippled
Fleet Tracker that was making its painfully slow progress to its entry warp point.
With no opposition the allied force closed in to 4 LS range. First to fire were the Tzel ships, using HET lasers and launching laser-armed capital and standards missiles. Three damaged
Flak Lighters were finished in the opening exchange. A minute later it was the turn of the destroyer-sized troopship, already an abattoir from earlier hits from laser-armed missiles, and another
Flak Lighter, finished by the
Privateers. The damaged escort cruiser came next, and after a further minute of fire it and the last corvette turned into clouds of disassociated parts and frozen atmospheric gasses.
Now at one light-second range the
Okados fired antimatter-armed sprint-mode missiles at the second escort cruiser, hastening its demise. In a final gesture of defiance the Axis ships launched their shuttles and cutters in a suicide run on the
Cannucut. Only one cutter succeeded in ramming, doing nominal damage to the shields, with the rest being shot down by the
Phyrs as they turned around and lined up for another run.
This was the process for the remaining Axis ships. Firing antimatter sprint missiles the
Okados brought down the shields of each ship in turn, letting the
Privateers have their look before finishing them with point blank laser fire. At no time did the Axis ships speed up, slow down, or change direction. For the Terpla’n crews it was like watching old whales swimming towards that part of the ocean to die so that their carcasses would sink to the deepest depths, their own private graveyard. Unlike the first cruiser, those ships that dropped to 0.016
c detonated antimatter ordnance in their magazines. Only a brief flurry of courier drones, moving a maximum speed for the Axis entry warp point, gave the clue of what was about to happen.
On the
Falconer, like her sister ships, the crew stayed at their stations and sang ‘Purpose, Unity, Strength’, even as they were killed by explosions or collapsing bulkheads. Larpon sat in his chair, protected by crash webbing, and watched as his ship disintegrate around him. The shuttle bays crumpled like empty cans beneath angry feet, engine rooms erupting in flames and point defense mounts spewing counter-missiles and mass driver loads directly into the void. At the damage control station the officer rattled off those compartments and systems that had been destroyed. Upon hearing the loss of the second engine room Larpon nodded to the officer at the point defense console. He punched in a code and inserted a key, and waited as Larpon entered another code on the control pad by his chair and inserted a key of his own. Eyes locked, both turned their keys at the same moment. It was a five-second audio count; enough time for those that still lived to compose themselves in that final moment. The detonation of the
Falconer’s remaining antimatter ordnance tore the huge hull into several major fragments, a firework that signaled the end the Axis foray into Kerama Retto.
All art commissioned from Jeffrey Agussoekarno
http://jepray.deviantart.com/
Asteroid Axis S4E1 Stiletto Escort Shuttle - topside view
Full size view here:
http://members.cox.net/~kiosho-05/Stiletto-01.jpg
Asteroid Axis S4E1 Stiletto Escort Shuttle - bottom view
Full size view here:
http://members.cox.net/~kiosho-05/Stiletto-02.jpg
