The burden of command, p.29
The Burden of Command, page 29
part #14 of Empire Rising Series
Though they were still millions of kilometers away, James could feel the tension between both groups as they faced off against one another. Don’t do it, he thought towards the militia. Don’t do it. Even as they were watching, a rock suddenly appeared from the midst of the crowd. It looped up into the air and then fell down, crashing into one of the militia, hitting him in the chest. He stumbled back, but then quickly re-joined the line. A roar erupted from the protesters. Suddenly, more rocks and all kinds of materials began to be hurled at the militia line. Retreat, James urged the militia. For several seconds, they tried to hold their ground. Then it looked like they were about to falter. The protesters were edging closer and closer, allowing their attacks to become more accurate. Suddenly, almost as one, the militia raised their plasma rifles. James’ heart jumped into his mouth. “No!” He cried even as green bolts began to erupt from the rifles. Hundreds tore into the protesters, mowing down the front lines that had been throwing objects at the militia. The rest of the protesters tried to scatter. They fled in every direction even as more bolts tore into them. “No!” James cried again as the militia continued to fire. They had pushed back the protest, why were they still shooting?
Without warning, the image cut off. Whoever had been recording deciding it was time to get out of harm’s way. It only took a few seconds for images from the other protests to return. From the look on the faces of the holo news reporters talking over the images, they appeared as shocked as James was. It took just seconds for news of what had happened at Sevres to reach the other protestors. At once, their mood changed. Peaceful protests suddenly became violent. Police were attacked or charged. In many cases, the police themselves threw down their riot gear and joined the protestors.
“He has lost them,” Nicholls said. “I don’t know if Garnier gave the order to fire, but whoever did, they have driven New France from the separatists’ cause.”
“Whoever gave it, I want to get my hands on them,” James snarled through clenched teeth. “The murderer is going to pay!”
“I think word has reached the battlestations,” Davenport said as she zoomed in the main holo display. As if they all had received the same command, many of the battlestations began to power down their targeting sensors. In the space of just two minutes, more than half did so. At that point, a wave of relief washed over James. He would not need to send in his fighters. His ships alone had enough strength to engage and cripple Teal’s ships.
“I’m picking up a large group of shuttles taking off from the planet’s surface,” a sensor officer informed everyone. “They’re heading towards Teal’s ships.”
“The ships are powering up their engines,” another sensor officer added. “I think they’re planning to break orbit.”
“He’s running,” James said as his hands clenched into fists. “The coward!”
“Garnier and his people are probably on those shuttles,” Nicholls suggested. “They’re getting out of dodge!”
“What do we do Admiral?” Davenport asked. “Do we pursue?”
James felt torn. He had no doubt Teal’s ships would use New France’s gravity to slingshot them out along a trajectory that his ships would struggle to follow. If he wanted to catch them, he’d have to abandon New France. Yet from the transmissions still coming in from the battlestations and other orbital stations, it was evident a fight was going on between loyal New France citizens and Teal’s people. He couldn’t abandon them to fight and die without support. Yet he desperately wanted to get Teal under his guns.
Nicholls was clearly reading his mind. “I want Teal as badly as you do Admiral. But our economy is more important. If there are pirates on our stations, they may scuttle them rather than simply surrender. We will catch up to Teal sooner or later.”
James knew his Chief of Staff was right, yet it galled him to give the order. “We will maintain course. Hold fire unless we are fired upon. Have Johnston’s shuttles launched and prepare to board every station in orbit. I want to secure everything.” James’ mind then went to his fighters. He could still strike at Teal’s ships. The more we destroy now, the less we’ll have to fight later. “Patch me through to Wing Commander Jensen,” he requested. When the Wing Commander’s face appeared on his command chair’s holo display, he outlined what he wanted her to do. When she nodded enthusiastically, James felt a shiver of fear ran down his spine. He knew Georgia would respond with exactly the same bravado. He wanted to contact her Hellcat and order her to be careful, yet he knew she would take it badly. Words he had shared with Christine many times came back to haunt him. ‘They are adults now; we have to learn to trust them.’ It had sounded so easy saying it back on Earth when Georgia had just been going through flight school. Now she was about to face hostile fire from an enemy who wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Yet James had to strike at Teal’s ships. He had no doubts about where they would flee to, New Delhi. And if former governor Varma had as many ships under her command, then taking New Delhi would be far harder than even New France had threatened to be. Just after James cut the COM channel to Wing Commander Jensen, her fourteen squadrons stopped accelerating and went into stealth mode. Doing so caused them to drop from Oblivion’s sensors. Despite his concern, it made James smile. The Hellcats were a significant advancement over the Spitfires he had fought the Karacknids with in the Karacknid War. Most of their capabilities were a closely guarded secret. With luck, Teal wouldn’t realize just what he was up against.
But they are not your immediate concern, James reminded himself as he pushed his fears for Georgia to one side. Others were fighting and dying for him. He had to help them. And then we need to restore order to New France. James hoped all of the militia, or pirates on the colony’s surface, had fled. But if they hadn’t, they were likely being hunted down by the colony’s populace. And there would undoubtedly be many hundreds or even thousands more who had cooperated with Garnier, many reprisals could erupt in the coming days. James had to cut that out immediately. He knew from all the history Christine made him study; once wounds were opened within a populace, they took generations to heal.
“We are entering missile range in twenty seconds,” Oblivion’s tactical officer reported. “Four battlestations still have their targeting sensors active.”
“Target them with our missiles, but hold fire until I say so,” Davenport responded.
As soon as Oblivion and Home Fleet crossed into missile range of the orbital battlestations, alarms began to blare. James watched as two of the battleships released a volley of missiles. Firing eighty each, their firepower would be enough to seriously threaten Oblivion’s defenses but together, Home Fleet would have little problem dealing with them.
“Release our gunships,” Davenport ordered. “Release defensive drones and begin tracking all those missiles. Engage them as they come into range.” She glanced at James. James gave her a slight shake of his head. “Hold off on firing our own missiles,” Davenport added.
Thirty gunships raced ahead of Home Fleet. Like they had done when the fleet had first entered the New France system, they slowed and eventually came to a halt relative to New France. Then their engines began to accelerate them back towards Home Fleet. In that time, the two battlestations fired two more salvos of missiles. When the first salvo reached them, the gunships engaged. They had twelve seconds to target the missiles as they passed the small heavily-armed fighters. Tens of thousands of laser beams tore into the missiles destroying twenty-seven of them. Next, long-range AM missiles reached out to engage the missiles. Eighteen more were destroyed. Then in order, Oblivion’s flak cannons, point defensive plasma and laser cannons, and then finally, her arc emitters all engaged the missiles which were wildly trying to evade the fire coming at them. From above and below Oblivion relative to the incoming missiles, the drones Oblivion and the other capital ships had released also opened up with their laser beams. Catching the missiles in a crossfire severely reduced the effectiveness of their evasive maneuvers. Everyone was blown apart long before they got close enough to threaten Home Fleet. None of James’ ships even needed to raise their gaseous shields. When the second and then third salvos from the battlestations tried to penetrate Homes Fleet’s defenses, they each suffered the same fate.
“It is going to take a lot more than that to penetrate our defenses,” Davenport commented confidently.
“Then why aren’t they surrendering?” Nicholls asked.
“They still have their energy weapons,” James reminded her. “They could do a lot of damage if we are foolish enough to come into range of them.”
“But we’re not slowing?” Nicholls said.
James nodded but turned back to the holo display. The first part of his orders to Wing Commander Jensen was about to be played out. Just seventeen seconds later, and four squadrons of fighters were detected by Oblivion’s sensors again. They were rapidly decelerating as they closed in on the two battlestations. As soon as they dropped their stealth field, the battlestations opened fire with their point defenses upon them. The forty-eight Hellcats were already carrying out their own evasive maneuvers, however. James quickly identified the four squadrons. Mixed feelings assaulted him when he saw none were Georgia’s. The attack on the battlestations was by far the safer of the two things he had ordered Wing Commander Jensen to attempt. He had been hoping Georgia would be assigned to this mission. He was disappointed and worried when he saw she hadn’t. Yet as one and then a second fighter was blown apart by defensive fire, he was relieved at the same time.
As soon as the fighters got into range with their own small plasma cannons, they began to open up on the two battlestations. Systematically, they blew apart every one of the battlestations’ point defenses. Then they took out the heavy plasma cannon turrets and then finally slammed plasma bolts into the missile tubes of the stations. Structurally, the stations would be fine, but they had lost their teeth. Two fighters lost to protect those battlestations crews, I hope some of them are not pirates, James thought to himself.
“All the other battlestations have powered down their tracking sensors,” Oblivion’s tactical officer reported. “No sign of any other opposition.”
“Pass on our thanks to the fighter squadrons,” Davenport responded. She turned to James. “Shall we give General Johnston the go-ahead?”
James nodded. “Do so. Though keep our weapons active. Make sure every station knows that if they open fire on our shuttles, they will be destroyed.”
“Aye Admiral,” Davenport said as she turned back to her officers.
James watched the shuttles as they launched, and then moved towards New France. Attempting a planetary invasion or the boarding of orbital stations was always a risky task. The shuttles were extremely vulnerable. A single hit from an AM missile or a point defense laser beam could split them apart, killing the forty or so marines inside. When no fire was detected, he breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes then turned to Teal’s ships. One hundred and forty-five of them where accelerating hard towards one of the shift passages that led deeper into the former French colonies. About sixty appeared to be armed with missile tubes, yet undoubtedly, they all had point defenses. As he expected, they were headed towards the shift passage that would take Teal to New Delhi. Yet you are not there yet, James thought towards Teal as his fear for Georgia began to grow again.
Chapter 25
As one of our greatest ever pilots has aptly said, ‘Good fighter pilots cannot be trained, they are only born,’ (Wing Commander Malan, 2792). Nevertheless, training is essential, for without the proper training, even the most gifted of pilots rarely survive their first few experiences of combat.
-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.
Georgia had to fight not to reach out and grasp her flight stick. Her Hellcat’s autopilot was keeping the fighter in formation with the rest of her squadron. Even so, she had an almost irresistible urge to hold the flight stick. She needed to be in control. Calm yourself, she insisted. Relax. It was dawning on her that flying into a real battle was nothing like the simulations. With their stealth fields still up, ten of Wing Commander Jensen’s squadrons were moving to intercept Teal’s ships. The stealth field generators were a brilliant combination of Kulrean and Human technology. Each generator formed a bubble around its fighter, distorting all incoming electromagnetic waves around it. Essentially, when active, a Hellcat became a black hole in space. Better, even, for the bubble allowed the light from distant stars to warp around the Hellcat and so still reach an enemy ship’s sensors. The only thing that could give them away therefore were the heat and gravimetric emissions from their engines. With her Hellcat currently directing all of its emissions in the opposite direction to Teal’s ships, and Jensen’s attack wing moving slow enough not to give off gravimetric waves, Teal’s ships could not know where they were. Of course, Teal was not a complete fool. All of his ships had their active sensors filling space around them with electromagnetic energy, and there was an outer shell of small frigate-sized ships also patrolling the approaches to Teal’s squadron. Teal knew her father had launched fourteen squadrons of fighters, the fact that only four of them had attacked New France’s orbital battlestations meant the other ten were still a threat. But do you know just how much of a threat? Georgia thought towards the ships directly in front of her Hellcat. Either her father or Jensen had predicted exactly what route Teal would take to try and escape. All of Jensen’s one hundred and twenty fighters were on an intercept course that would allow them to strike at the rear of Teal’s ships. At the center of the enemy formation, Midas Touch’s sleek lines stood out. She had clearly been built to impress. Yet that now made her a prime target. If she could, Georgia intended to destroy the secessionist’s ship. He had insulted her parents and called into question everything the Empire stood for. Despite her nerves and even, something she would only admit this to herself, her fear, she wasn’t going to let him escape if she could help it.
Minutes later, Georgia’s COM unit began to crackle. “This is Jensen, we will drop our stealth fields in sixty seconds. I have assigned targets to Red and Eagle squadrons; they will take out the outer shell ships and open a channel for us. They will go to maximum acceleration as soon as we come out of stealth. Every other squadron will go to eighty percent until my order. I know this is the first combat for all of you, but don’t worry, you’ll get through this. Taking on these guys will be a cakewalk compared to fighting the Karacknids. Trust me.”
Georgia felt her fear subside. Jensen had been a pilot during her father’s Gayla campaign. She had flown multiple sorties as the Allied Fleet had fought its way to the Karacknid homeworld. If she had no fear going up against the secessionist ships, then Georgia felt more confident. Of course, her nerves still remained. She desperately didn’t want to disappoint her wing mates and even more so, her father.
“All fighters, drop stealth fields,” Jensen ordered when the time came.
Georgia immediately tapped the button to disengage her stealth field generator. Then she eased her throttle up to eighty percent. Her Hellcat’s autopilot kept in formation with her squadron. As soon as her active sensors detected the secessionist fleet, targeting data began to appear on her HUD. Griffin squadron had been tasked with taking out Midas Touch herself. Georgia smiled. Four squadrons would be going in just before them to pick off the ships around Midas Touch. Then all twelve of her squad mates would nail the pleasure yacht.
As she watched the secessionist fleet, they began to react to the sudden appearance of the fighters. Their formation tightened and Midas Touch moved further ahead in their formation. The coward, Georgia thought towards Teal. He was putting as many ships between him and danger as possible. We are still coming for you. Before she could launch her attack though, Red and Eagle squadrons closed with the eight ships that were trailing behind the main secessionist squadron. The ships fired all their point defenses at the fighters. The occasional energy flare told Georgia that their shields had been hit by a laser beam or plasma bolt. Yet the shields did their job. No fighter was destroyed. Spaced out and unable to support one another, the secessionist ships didn’t fare so well. Multiple antimatter warheads slammed into each one of them. The bright blue explosions filled Georgia’s vision, as they dissipated, no sign of the secessionist ships was left in their wake. The antimatter had completely negated them.
“All right, Griffin squadron we are up,” Griffin squadron leader announced. “Accelerate to ninety-nine percent acceleration. Let’s give our wing mates a chance to strike first. Increase acceleration on my mark... Mark!”
Georgia did as she was ordered, and then reached forward and grabbed her flight stick. Her free hand hovered over the autopilot deactivation button. “Begin evasive maneuvers,” her squadron leader ordered. At once, Georgia deactivated the autopilot. Then she began to twist and weave. Easily, she settled into a relaxed rhythm. She had done this thousands of times before in simulators and in space combat drills. Everything changed when the first flak cannon round exploded less than a kilometer in front of her fighter. Several small pellets slammed into her shield. They were deflected away, but not before she saw the shield flash as its energy was sucked away. Terror ran through her. For a split second, she thought she was about to die. But then nothing worse happened. Her shields had held. Checking her systems whilst continuing her maneuvers, she tried to calm her breathing when she saw nothing had been damaged. A glance at a secondary readout told her, her shield was still intact. Quickly though, more and more flak explosions appeared in front and around her fighter. Plasma bolts and laser beams began to zip by as well. In a way that had never happened before, Georgia’s vision narrowed down to just the space in front of her fighter. Flying for her life, she dipped, twisted, and weaved as randomly as she could. In her peripheral vision, she sensed an explosion too large to be the burst of a flak cannon round. It could only have come from one of her wing mates being blown apart. She gripped her flight stick harder. Sweat had already begun to form on her brow and run down her back. She was vaguely aware of other larger explosions ahead of her. Fighters from the squadrons ahead of her were being hit. Yet her awareness was too narrow to keep track of the explosions or count them. Time felt like it slowed down to a snail’s pace. Every twist or turn she put her Hellcat through seemed to take an eternity to happen. Georgia constantly felt like she was moving too slow, like a laser beam or plasma bolt would snuff her out of existence before the maneuver she wanted to perform actually happened.
