Title: Reformation: Chapter Twenty-Eight
***
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They weren’t caught off guard. That was the best that could
be said of the Federation Fleet’s initial foray into battle. They knew what
they were flying into, and that was the only reason that the descent from liminal
space didn’t result in a bloodbath. That, and modified shields that gave the
Federation ships a better chance against energy weapons that tore through their
outer resonances like they were cobweb.
Darrel sat frozen in his seat behind Cadet Reyes, watching
the numbers fade in and out on her tactical screen and listening to General
Caractacus respond to his crew’s information with calm, detached orders. “The Pisces is heeling, sir, portside shields
look to be completely down!”
“The rest of Pisces’ detachment
will bring up cover for her. Keep our firepower on the ship in front of us.” He
sounded so certain, but Darrel knew there was no certainty in the heart of
battle. It was clear now which commanders had been slow to respond to the
general’s staffing and defensive orders—they were taking heavier damage, and
were slower to respond to threats. Their fleet was outnumbered initially,
twenty-nine ships to eighteen, but they weren’t entirely outgunned. The pirates
in front of them—and Darrel had never even heard
of pirates who had access to a military-level Destroyer, it was a fucking farce—were
being surprisingly chary with their ammunition, and their delays gave the
biggest Federation ships time to maneuver themselves into the line of fire.
One of the ship designations on Reyes’ screen suddenly went
dark. “Enemy ship destroyed, sir!”
“Target the next closest of a similar size within the same
zone. On my mark, turn broadside guns on it and focus our forward firepower on
the ship harassing the Cleaver.”
“Sir,” one of the tac officers called out worriedly, “if we
change our heading like that, we open ourselves up to enemy fire against the dorsal
shields. They’re down to fifty-one percent.”
“If we lose the Cleaver,
we open up the smaller ships she’s protecting to firepower they can’t
expect to handle. We’ll manage, Cadet. In three, two…mark.”
The Triumph was a
Super-Destroyer, a new class of ship that was bigger and more powerful than
anything the Federation had put out in decades. There hadn’t been much of a
need, without open warfare dogging them, but the admiralty had wanted a new
toy. The Triumph was half again
larger than a regular Destroyer, had more flexible defensive capabilities and a
weapons system that was more than a match for anything they were facing. That
was good, since it was the only ship
in the fleet that was doing consistent damage to the enemy ships. The Triumph’s starboard battery opened fire
on the harrier-class that was firing on them, hitting it with a flurry of
destructive power so vast it had no choice but to run. It tried, but it didn’t
make it far. “Enemy ship destroyed, sir!”
“Two on our tail, sinking under to fire on our belly!”
“Fire ventral thrusters fifty percent, take us down.
Maintain forward firepower on the Cleaver’s
enemy.”
“Aye, sir.” The ship began a vertical roll, its stern
dropping as the bow remained fixed on the ship it was engaging there. The
forward guns weren’t as powerful as the side batteries, but between their
firepower and the Cleaver’s defensive
shots, the enemy ship had to turn tail and run.
“They’re following and firing, sir, impact in six seconds.”
“Ventral thrusters to full power,
end forward engagement. Brace for impact.”
Three,
two, one… Darrel counted down in his head, gritting his teeth, but when the
shots hit it wasn’t nearly as stunning as some of the earlier hits had been.
“Deflection to ventral shields was
seventy-five percent. We’re holding steady, sir.”
“Good. Give me a count.”
“Twenty-four enemy ships remain. We
have all eighteen, although—” The tac officer cut off for a moment. When he
spoke up again, he sounded worried. “Pisces
is in bad shape, sir. Captain Himmel has ordered an evacuation. Their shields
are next to nothing, and there are two ships converging on it.”
“Where’s Himmel’s detachment
leader?”
“Captain Uris isn’t responding to
the comm, sir.”
“Force a connection, and get us to Pisces, now. Inform Captain Gorion that
the Cleaver will have to stand in
front for the moment.”
“Aye, sir!” People got to work, and
Darrel’s hands itched with the urge to be doing something, anything, other than watching. On the other hand, seeing how hard
Reyes was working just to get the Triumph
going in the right direction, much less responding to commands from the
tactical staff, and he had to admit that he was probably doing more good by not
doing anything at all.
“Connection holding, sir! We have
the Hammerfall on the conn.”
“Captain Uris.” Darrel shivered at
the dark tone of the general’s voice. He’d first met the man as Cody’s
grandfather, a kind, patient man. He’d gotten to know him better as a
commanding officer, hard but fair. This tone, though? There was nothing kind or
fair about it—he sounded coldly furious. “Why aren’t you covering your
detachment?”
“I’m currently engaged with two
separate warships, General,” Captain Uris snapped. “Forgive me if I don’t have
time to pander to your urge to backseat command.”
“Your destroyer should have been at
the front of your detachment, not cowering behind a Class-Five Skyblazer. You’ve
been engaged with those two ships for half an hour. They’re a third your size.
Why aren’t they destroyed?”
“Not all of us have your firepower,
sir. My shields are at forty percent
and dropping, I don’t have time to—”
“Captain Obede.” The general cut
off the detachment commander, talking directly to her subordinate. “Status,
now.”
“Shields at eighty-five percent,
sir.”
“Why are you shadowing Uris instead
of assisting the Pisces?”
“Sir, I was ordered by my
commanding officer to maintain a defensive position on Hammerfall’s port side.” He sounded tense.
“Shut your mouth, Obede. That’s an
order!”
“Ma’am, my general has asked me to
report. I must comply with his direct order, the same as I did for you.”
“Open my comm to the rest of Uris’s
detachment,” Miles directed his communications officer. When she nodded, he
spoke with resounding authority. “Captains Obede, Kylal, and Terry, I’m reassigning
you to my detachment. Disregard all former directives and protect the
evacuation of the Pisces. Kylal and
Terry, for the time being, follow Captain Obede’s lead.”
“Aye, sir.” A chorus of what
sounded like relieved voices echoed through the comm, and Darrel could see the
ships begin to move away from Hammerfall.
“You can’t steal my detachment in
the middle of battle!”
“You haven’t proven to me that you
deserve them,” Miles retorted. “How many enemy ships have you destroyed,
Captain?”
“I’ve been faced with a situation that—”
“None. And according to my engineer’s
scan, your shields are over ninety percent. If you want your protective detail
back,” and oh, the general sounded positively vicious now, “then you’ll prove your mettle by putting your ship on
the line for this fleet. The Hammerfall
is the second most powerful ship we have. It needs to be doing the
second-highest amount of damage.”
“You don’t understand anything.”
Captain Uris was practically spitting into the conn. “This can only end one
way, and I’m not going to drag myself and my crew through the black just so you
can go down in a blaze of glory! I refuse to follow your immoral orders. We’re
leaving.” And a moment later…
“Hammerfall has entered liminal space, sir.” The communications
officer sounded stunned. “She’s gone.” And all the enemy ships that had been
closing in on her were suddenly free to target other, less defensible vessels.
“The Pisces’ main engine has just blown, sir,” a tac officer added. “It’s
completely disintegrated. Last evac numbers were at eighty percent safely away.”
“And Captain Himmel?”
“I believe the captain went down
with the ship, sir.”
A moment of solemn silence reigned
before Miles spoke again. “Pursue broadside engagement against the three
nearest ships. Roll us if you have to, we’re playing a game of brute force now.”
Rolling them would expose the
fragile dorsal shields. But the Triumph was
the only cover some of the smaller ships had, and would make itself vulnerable
accordingly.
Darrel gritted his teeth and took a
deep breath as the ship began to twist.
those traitors!!! grrrr
ReplyDelete