Hell or highwater hells.., p.25
Hell or Highwater (Hell's Jesters, #5), page 25
“Aye, sir,” Woodruf replied.
A small analog display materialized to the lower right quadrant of the display, counting down. Less than five hours. That was the point of convergence. Severson should already be out of hyperspace and coasting down on Surigao Primary’s gravity pull from the far side of the system. Buto should still be in hyper, but nearing his re-entry, just outside the gravity well.
“Thank you.”
Five hours, Harrison had, to pull Greer apart.
And that wasn’t happening, yet. The Union starfighters hadn’t rushed out to meet their opposites, had slowed upon sortieing and spread out in a net to catch them. The resulting fight was happening, then, closer to the Union fleet and the heavy ships, whose fire began questing out in opportune moments, blasting at Valkyrie groups drawn into their range by the ongoing melee.
The losses were already mounting.
“Another strike at the gap,” Woodruf announced. “Admiral Nagumo is committing his full group in response now, sir.”
Harrison nodded without comment, let his gaze slide to the edge of the system, to the Galactic East gap in the asteroid belt. Icons swirled there, in and out of that damnable debris tangle. Energy blasts and explosions pulsed. Nagumo’s task force was wheeling about, all the way to the edge of the field, heavy weapons beginning to go to work. He’s leaving nothing to chance, Harrison thought. He’s throwing everything into it.
“We’ve confirmed it’s the Jesters?” he asked.
“Confirmed, sir.” Woodruf looked up from the tactical station. “It’s newer variants of the Hellhound series, but it’s definitely them.”
And the fight wasn’t going well, he could see. Certainly, there was no threat to the gap itself, or the Fringe World Fleet’s lines of retreat, but Nagumo was flailing. The Jesters kept coming in sudden rushes, stabbing attacks that wounded and then withdrew. And Nagumo was giving them exactly what they wanted; chases into the belt, where they were met with ambush. Then chases back into his ships, that ended in more furious attacks. It was like a heavyweight, past his prime, trying to land blows on a speedy welterweight with the advantage of youth and maneuver on his side.
But the gap is open, Harrison thought. And, more importantly, no one was minding the southeast gap, Buto’s route. All eyes are on us.
Us alone.
The battle down-system, closer to Surigao, intensified to absolute savagery. There seemed to be nearly as many explosions as starfighters. Harrison forced himself to look at the table of organization globular, off the lower left side of the tactical, and read the estimates. He grimaced at the skyrocketing toll and looked back into the wild scrap.
Some of the blasts were beginning to reach Greer’s ships, at last, sorties breaking through to strafe. But these lasted mere seconds, blowtorched from existence by the combined firepower of the Union’s interlocking point-defenses, or hunted down by near space combat patrols. Still, that some of the Valkyries were getting through told Harrison the time was nigh.
“Prepare to transmit to all units,” Harrison announced. “Starships to increase speed to .005 c, course heading, Surigao.”
“Aye, sir.” Woodruf’s voice shook with a touch of excitement.
“Carrier groups to brake at 1.5 AU’s distant,” Harrison went on. “Battlecruiser divisions to proceed onward into extreme weapons range. Special instructions to Admiral Murakama: ‘reminder, press local advantage only. Do not get drawn into a duel.’”
“Transmitting now, sir,” the tech at the communications station said hurriedly.
“Anisa’s not going to like that,” Walsh said with a soft chuckle.
“She knows her orders, and she knows the plan,” Harrison replied, surprised himself by how harsh his voice sounded.
“Yes, sir,” Walsh replied.
The attacks down-system were bogging down, were getting nowhere. Greer had prepared his people well. He wasn’t going to be lured into a counterattack where Alliance guns could pick off his starfighters—as he was doing to Harrison, right now. He was keeping it defensive.
But Harrison knew the bastard, knew his temperament. He had to keep hitting him. Eventually the bull would be struck to the point of fury, and charge.
“Second wave starfighters are in position?” he asked.
“They are, sir,” Woodruf replied. “They will reach the Union fleet in nine minutes from present position, coming in at twenty degrees below the ecliptic plane.”
Harrison eyes the flocks of icons, coasting “below” the system. He’d sent the first wave straight in, right into Greer’s face. The second strike had lingered and would “climb” up into the Union fleet, seeking shots at their more lightly-armed ventral surfaces—the “belly shot”, in fighter jock parlance. That was great for an attack group with the element of surprise, but Greer had to see them massing by now. His picket ships would simply roll over to present their weapons, and his own fighter screens would be waiting.
Of course, the obviousness of it all was the point.
And Harrison hated it, hated this damned plan that had him spending lives and ships like they were credits on the holomarket.
Still, he had his orders.
“Transmit to second wave starfighter groups,” he said, “commence attack.”
“LOOK ALIVE, SLASHERS!” Kelly barked. “Bandits on the way at y minus forty degrees!”
Feral growls filled the tactical network. The Slashers had remained on near space combat patrol after drawing the initial reconnaissance flights in-system. That meant the Slashers had spent the better part of the last six hours first watching empty space, then scrambling back as the Fringe World Fleet made its appearance, and finally lingering close to the Sacramento while Hammer Squadron took on the Alliance attacks.
But now it was Slasher-time.
“Sacramento to patrol group,” the radio orderly from the strike carrier said in Kelly’s earbud. “Valkyries confirmed inbound. ETA: two minutes, twenty seconds. You are clear to engage!”
“Thank you, bridge!” she acknowledged and switched back to the squadron channel. “You heard the man, Slashers! Time to dance!”
With that she nosed the Marauder down and goosed the thrusters, plunging the starfighter past the strike carrier and through the loose cloud of its escort ships. A glance at the aft display showed her the squadron following in a graceful crescent, like dive bombers of Ancient Earth plunging for a target. Far off to port and just above, a second Marauder squadron—transponder signals made them Falcon Squadron, flying off the Ludlow—joined the dive. And a flutter of signals from around Surigao indicated a third group, one of the local Firestorm squadrons, rising from orbit.
Eyeing these, Kelly keyed her mic. “Watch out for those militia wingdings,” she said, using the slang for the older starfighter models, “they’ll be slow-going in the middle of this thing that’s coming.”
“I guess they’re not quite useless,” Himari muttered.
“I get the sentiment, Slasher Three,” Kelly replied, “but we’re going to need all the help. We’re about to have a lot of company.”
The Valkyries were rising for the Union fleet like a blizzard of embers kicked loose from a bonfire. It was a least a full wing, maybe fifty Valkyries coming on in three squadrons. And neither the Slashers, nor the Falcons—judging by their signals—could match those numbers.
Kelly watched the rapidly-shrinking distances and made a quick decision. “Swing wide, Slashers, and open up your throttles. Ten degrees to port, and y-minus fifty-five. Widen the parabola of our approach.”
“You want to go around them, One?” Slasher Seven—one of her flight leaders—asked incredulously.
“They’re going for the carriers,” she replied. “I want to cut across their tails before they get there and break them up.” She waited a moment, watched as Falcon Squadron continued its descent straight into the Valkyries’ path, while the Firestorms strained to reach the attack wave from its side. “It’s going to be a traffic jam in there. I’d rather be on clean-up.”
“Roger that,” Seven agreed after a pause.
Kelly nudged the stick into the course change. The rest of the Slashers streaked after her, quickly gaining and settling into an arrowhead formation. The Valkyries were continuing their “climb” for the fleet, not even throwing out flights to try to run interference for them.
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” Himari asked via private channel, voicing Kelly’s confusion.
Kelly watched the Valkyrie formation tighten and shift. A globular arrangement slowly formed. “They’re circling the wagons,” she replied with a note of mystification. That surrendered initiative, all the squadrons huddling close, instead of breaking up along separate axes of advance. But attacking that glob of concentrated fire couldn’t be taken lightly. “They’re trying to preserve their numbers for the attack on the capital ships.”
“Then we go straight in and break ‘em up!”
The Slashers reached the vertex of the parabola and began angling back for the formation. It was one of the stranger tactics she’d seen Valkyrie pilots try. She’d only ever seen it at the Academy, in a simulation. “No, just the opposite,” she replied at last and keyed the open channel. “Slashers, assume spear-point formation. We’re going to make like it’s a plunging attack. But flight leaders, pick targets. When we near extreme weapons range, break up and concentrate on glancing runs. Pick off the edges of the formation.”
She waited until she had acknowledgement from everyone and began pouring on the speed. The Slashers fell in behind her in a sharp column of alternating threes. In what distance made seem slow-motion, they wrapped around behind the globe of icons. But seconds and thousands of clicks screamed by in the silence of space and Kelly had only the eager thrum of the Marauder to give any sense of the incredible speeds.
The tactical computer blatted. “Hostile targeting,” the AI warned in its inhuman monotone. “Closing to extreme weapons range.”
Azure bolts licked out from the rear hemisphere of the globe. Valkyries killed thrusters and pivoted about to fire behind them. The effect of some of the formation slowing to fight began to distend the globe into more of a lozenge. Another alarm joined the first as some of the Valkyries triggered scatter-packs and let the missiles swirl back across their tails, rather than surrender velocity to fight.
“Save your packs,” Kelly ordered as a lucky spoiling shot squalled off her starboard shield. “Go to guns!” She flicked the weapons selector to the quad-blaster, waited for targeting halos to circle the inbound missiles, and pulled the trigger, stitching the volley with fire.
The salvo came apart in a wave of white flame as the rest of the Slashers added their own guns to the fight. More particle beams slapped out from the rear of the Valkyrie globe. Kelly touched the icon of one of these on the tactical, highlighting it for her own particle cannon. Near-misses gashed the void all around her, dazzled Himari’s shields for an instant. The younger woman’s squawk of surprise ended in a curse.
“Begin your runs!” Kelly grated.
The hurtling spear of the Slashers’ squadron splintered as though it’d struck an invisible barrier. But each shard was a threesome of Marauders. And each one veered off after a different target at the globe’s periphery.
Kelly’s target strobed before her. More particle beams sliced out as she dived in on the formation, were joined by plasma bolt as the range closed, then more missiles. But the fracturing of the Marauders had split up the Valkyries’ defensive fire, dispersed it, and she streaked through with Himari and Six on her wings.
Ignoring the gash of a bolt across her port shield, Kelly pulled the trigger and walked particle beams across her target’s aft shields. These flared up through the spectrum towards white as Himari and Six’s fire joined hers. The Valkyrie pilot had chosen to keep their nose towards the fleet, rather than pivot and give up speed in exchange for answering their fire. But a cluster of missiles burst out and wound back towards the attackers.
Kelly’s plasma blaster met these, swatting away two before they’d barely finished their loop back towards her. The others flamed out in a firefly storm from Himari. That storm—joined by Six’s—walked back down through exploding missiles to plaster across the fleeing Valkyrie. The last of its shields sloughed off with a polychromatic flutter and it was exploding in a brief smear of venting plasma so violent it glazed Kelly’s shields as she veered by.
“Speed!” she shouted. “Get clear!”
Blaster fire chased them as they skipped across the back hemisphere of the Valkyrie formation. Three more explosions starred the globe as Marauders shot clear, the tactical network filling with whoops of triumph. And a look at the roster showed Kelly the Slashers had gotten their cut in without taking significant damage themselves.
But the globe held together, still climbing for the Union fleet, and drawing close to it, now.
“Another run!” Kelly ordered, nosing back for the Valkyries. “Same as before!”
With Himari and Six ghosting for her, Kelly shot in on the formation again. Falcon Squadron was reaching it now, coming straight for it in an arrowhead that glowed as the Valkyries lit it up. But their squadron leader had clearly appreciated the desperate but effective approach and given the order that sent his formation spiraling apart as it came into contact. And more Valkyries flashed apart while Marauders streaked by.
But, still, they clung to their formation.
“Gonna get wild in there, Slashers,” Kelly grated into the mic. “Watch yourselves!”
And now the lumbering wave of militia Firestorms was reaching the fight, cutting across the globe’s approach and diving right through it. With their inferior speed, the direct route was the only one that’d give them a chance at a pass, but Kelly ground her teeth as the inevitable bloodbath commenced. That was the globe formation’s advantage; all it’s members could bring weapons to bear on anything in a wide cone before them without giving up speed.
The lead Firestorms burned up in that cone of death, shields gone and hulls splashing apart in slag sprays. Survivors shot through that conflagration only to find worse as they plunged through the globe and found weapons following in and savaging them from every direction. The wing shapes of their craft smeared out against the stars in flower petals of deadly brilliance.
And then Kelly was shooting through the midst of it, saving her the horror of watching the butchery. She nearly lost the second target she’d picked out for her flight as something blasted apart nearly across her nose. A juke to starboard saved her shields from a cascade of glowing, shredding wreckage, but the Valkyrie she’d marked for death suddenly peeled out of formation and shot past her at scarcely a half a click distant.
Suddenly in the midst of the unraveling globe, Kelly instantly found a second Valkyrie, straggling clear of the whirlwind of energy bolts and machines crisscrossing at hyper-ballistic velocities. The Alliance pilot never saw her coming and she almost felt villainous as she dumped a full complement of particle beams and plasma bolt into it. An almost anticlimactic flash ended the starfighter as Himari and Six’s fire tripled the deadly deluge and finished it off.
“Clear again!” Kelly ordered and fed power to the thrusters, climbing clear of the wild melee.
The globe was coming completely apart now, but that wasn’t just due to the efforts of the Union defenders, Kelly saw. The attack had reached the fleet picket screen and as destroyers and corvettes vomited point defense fire into the void, the Valkyrie jocks finally scattered to evade it. Thus freed, they coursed into the midst of the fleet, breaking up by squadron, by flight. Many lasted barely seconds, clawed apart by the big ships’ monstrous armaments. More lasted long enough to unleash missiles and death.
And another wave of Valkyries was strafing across the fleet’s opposite flank, smaller and tattered, but adding to the anarchy. The Alliance had the numbers and they were using them now, accepting terrible losses to barge through and deal destruction.
“Sacramento under attack!” the carrier’s radio orderly shouted across the network, voice breaking with real fear. “Slasher Squadron...any Union fighter, requesting assistance!”
“Three and Six!” Kelly barked. “You heard ‘em! Stay on me!”
With a lurch that sent a shudder through the Marauder, Kelly boosted back towards the fleet. Finding the old strike carrier on her tactical display, she touched its frantically fluttering icon and let the AI correct her course slightly, angling up and through what had turned into a barroom brawl around the Union’s capital ships. Kelly poured on more speed, every muscle clenching, praying none of the killers spiraling about her took notice and latched on.
The Sacramento was already flashing from hits as they neared.
A Valkyrie flight streaked in on her from ninety degrees above, unleashing scatter-pack salvos and following them through with the stab-stab of particle beams. The carrier’s point-defenses sliced the volleys to glowing embers and bathed the starfighters in cyan. Two broke off to either side. The third transformed into a blazing eggshell of dying shields that shattered a moment later and rained down across Sacramento’s ventral shields in a stuttered chain of blasts—the last of which triggered secondary explosions across the hull as some of the shield projector suite blew out.
“Don’t let ‘em get far!” Kelly snarled and veered after one of the surviving strafers.
The Valkyrie pilot apparently thought to double back on the carrier after their pass, suddenly tumbling end over end and slamming their thruster to change trajectory. This left them hanging almost still for a terrible second, completely unaware of Marauder death rocketing for them.
Kelly felt no villainy, this time, as her quad-blaster stitched cyan death across the Valkyrie, ripping through shields and hull and shattering it in a purl of momentary incandescence and shredding metal.
“More bandits inbound!” the Sacramento’s radio orderly squalled.
Kelly whipped the Marauder about into a side skid that allowed her to keep some power to the thrusters, fed more in as she came about. G-forces tugged her back into the couch, the violence of the maneuver drawing gray at the edges of her vision. She was vaguely aware of Himari and Six shooting on into the dark without her, caught off guard by her reaction.
