Authors: Kennedy Hudner
At first they thought the attack from the rear was simply another probing attack. The Ducks had probed continuously, looking for a flaw in the minefield pattern that might let them slip through. But then the sensors had revealed the number of Duck ships involved and Hiram realized that they had been caught flat footed. The Dominion force blocking the worm hole entrance to Refuge was a feint; the real attack was coming from behind as the Dominions used brute force to bull their way through the minefield. He shook his head. For the Ducks, it was a huge gamble, but it looked like it was working.
The utter ruthlessness of the attack shocked him. The ten Duck mine sweepers had carved a deep channel into the mine field before being destroyed. As he watched, the enemy frigates were cutting into it even deeper, but taking a terrific beating. A cold hand seemed to grab his heart. The Duck admiral, he realized, had just ordered forty ships to their deaths in order to break through to the Atlas, and the sensors revealed that several squadrons of enemy destroyers were lining up to take their turn.
“Nina, send a courier drone out to Admiral Douthat and tell her we are being attacked in force by the Ducks. Estimate at least eighty ships in the attack, maybe more. They are about a quarter way through the minefield. Then call Peter Murphy of the tugboat guild and tell him to haul mines from the front of the Atlas to the rear. Tell him not to thin out any one spot too much, but we need more fire power in our rear.”
He watched for a while longer, counting ships, noting the deepening breach into the minefield. On the holo display, the first squadron of Dominion destroyers moved forward into the breach. “Gandalf?” he called.
“ Commander Brill?”
“Analyze rate of penetration of the minefield by Dominion forces and assume that they will use all available ships to complete the penetration. Estimate how long before they achieve a total breach.”
“Dominion forces could complete penetration sometime between ninety five minutes and three hours and twenty minutes,” Gandalf replied in its usual soothing voice.
Hiram nodded to himself, all the while wanting to scream and run and hide. Admiral Douthat was hours away. The entire Queen’s Own and Black Watch were with her. The Queen was still on Atlas, more vulnerable every minute. The only option he had left was to somehow beef up the minefield and throw in the Coldstream Guards, who were outnumbered ten to one.
He walked back to his chair and sat down heavily, then made the call he did not want to make.
• • • • •
The Coldstream Guard waited nervously. They knew something was going on behind them in the rear of the minefield, but they didn’t know what. When Hiram Brill’s call came into the
Bristol
, Captain Rowe almost groaned. He knew where this was going. As Brill began to explain, Rowe decided it would be easier if all of the ships’ captains heard the message, so he conferenced them in.
“...just starting to send in their destroyers to increase the penetration of the minefield,” Brill was saying as Emily’s com screen filled with faces of the other captains. “At their current rate, unless we slow them down, they’ll breach the minefield in less than three hours, well before Admiral Douthat can get back here with reinforcements.”
Hiram looked older, Emily thought. Or tired. There were strain lines in his face and he looked gaunt.
“What do you want us to do?” asked Captain Rowe. Not that he didn’t already know.
“The Coldstream Guard has to deploy into the minefield and slow them down. Buy time. We are filling in the minefield as quickly as we can, but all that will do is buy us a few minutes, maybe an hour. You need to harass them, distract them, do whatever you can until Admiral Douthat gets back.”
“And once we do that, what’s our secondary mission?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate
Everest
. Everyone chuckled. Emily liked Captain Fuller; she had what her mother used to refer to as ‘spunk.’ Of course,
Everest
was the only Coldstream Guard frigate left, all of the others had been destroyed.
“Atlas,” Rowe said. “I’ve got four cruisers, two of which are in bad shape. Seven destroyers, all with extensive damage, one of which should have been declared a yard job. I’ve got two cruisers from Third Fleet, both with understaffed crews and another destroyer, also hurting.”
“And you have the pride of the Coldstream Guard, the H.M.S.
Everest
,” Fuller reminded him.
“And the
Everest
,” Rowe acknowledged with a tired smile.
Hiram stared at him. “Captain,” he said bluntly, “You are all I’ve got.” He hesitated, then added, “Queen Anne says she will remain on the Atlas and that she has the greatest confidence in you.”
And there it was. They were the last line of protection for the Queen.
“Well, tell the Queen that we’d have a lot more confidence in her judgement if she’d put her ass on a fast ship and get the hell to Refuge,” Fuller said, her usual bravado missing. Emily waited for Rowe to chastise her, but he said nothing. Fuller had simply said what they were all thinking.
“We’ve got a couple of scout boats that we are arming,” Hiram said, choosing to ignore Fuller’s outburst. “We’ll get them to you as soon as we can, but...” His voice trailed off.
Captain Rowe rubbed a hand across his face. “All right, Atlas, we’ll buy you some time. Use it well, it’s going to come dear.”
“We will, sir,” Hiram said. “God’s speed.”
Emily looked at the faces of the other captains and wondered how many of them would still be alive in a few hours.
Admiral Mello watched as the last squadron of five destroyers entered the cauldron. Thus far the destroyers had clawed their way through eighty percent of the minefield, at an extravagant cost in ships and men.
A strong man could shape the universe,
if
he had the will.
Beside him, he could sense Captain Pattin standing rigidly, radiating disapproval. He studied the holograph display carefully, measuring the depth of the remaining Vicky minefield. The task force still had fifteen cruisers and two battleships, if he included Admiral Kaeser’s
Fortitude,
though privately he did not think he could trust the
Fortitude
in a pinch.
Captain Pattin cleared her throat. “The destroyers have run out of anti-matter munitions, Admiral.”
Mello sighed. Without anti-matter warheads, the destroyers would have to scrape away at the minefield with regular high explosives and lasers, just as the mine sweepers and frigates had. They would die quickly. Sacrifice was one thing, useless sacrifice another. “Pull them out, Captain,” he ordered Pattin. “It’s time for the cruisers and the
Vengeance.
We’ll save
Fortitude
in reserve.” And out of the way, he thought.
Admiral Mello formed his fifteen cruisers and the
Vengeance
into a tight arc, with the
Vengeance
at the center. The formation aligned itself with the hole formed by frigates and destroyers.
“Sensors are showing Vicky destroyers working through the minefield towards us,” Captain Pattin warned. “Can’t get a clear readout, but there could be eight or nine of them.”
“It does not matter,” Mello replied. “They are too late.” He gave the signal.
As one, the sixteen Dominion war ships accelerated and shot a pattern of anti-matter war heads into the minefield in front of them. Five missiles, then ten, then forty, then eighty, shot into the last layer of the Victorian minefield. Moments later, they detonated simultaneously.
Space tore itself apart.
“Gods of our Mothers!” The sensor display on the
New Zealand
abruptly shut down as fail-safe switches kicked in. “What the hell was that?” Alex Rudd demanded.
“Sir, it looks like they just let loose with a shit load of anti-matter bombs,” Seaman Partridge replied from the Sensors console. “Dozens of them, I think. Last image I had was of sixteen ships in a circular pattern; cruisers, according to Merlin. Plus one very large ship in the center, larger than our battleships.”
Emily and Rudd exchanged a glance. There had been rumors that the Dominions were experimenting with very large battleships. It would make sense to support them with cruisers.
“When do we get sensors back, Mr. Partridge?” Emily asked.
“Another minute, Ma’am.”
“As fast as you can, Mr. Partridge. I dislike being blind.”
The communications screen blossomed to life. Captain Rowe of the
Bristol
appeared, looking disheveled. “They just took out another five percent of the minefield’s thickness,” he said without preamble. “
Bristol
still has sensors and I’ll send you the latest readings. Merlin is telling me they can punch through in three more attacks if they continue to use anti-matter weapons.”
“Good Christ, they can’t have that many anti-matter warheads in their arsenal. They just shot off more than the Home Fleet has in its entire inventory!” said the captain of the
Emerald Isle.
Anti-matter weapons were extremely expensive to make and notoriously tricky to use. You could never be sure what the exact radius would be of the bomb’s blast zone, and if the anti-matter particles spun off into other matter, it would start a chain explosion that would go on as long as there was enough matter to feed it.
“We have to get in there and break up their formation,” Rowe said. “I want the cruiser
Australia
and all of the Coldstream Guard destroyers with me. We’re going after the cruisers. We’re going to focus on five of the bastards. Merlin will give you targets and we will make a coordinated launch with everything we’ve got. We aren’t going for kills, just trying to fluster them enough to screw up their formation.” His eyes shifted until he found Emily. “Tuttle, I want you to take the cruiser
Emerald Isle
and the three ships from the Second Fleet and work your way in until you can launch everything you can against that damn battleship. Concentrate on its propulsion system.”
“I’m the senior officer!” protested Captain Specht, captain of the
Emerald Isle.
She was short and aggressive and very touchy about her place in the Coldstream Guard hierarchy. “I should command this sortie, not someone who has been a captain for ten hours.”
Rowe didn’t mince words. “Cindy, the
Emerald Isle
is barely able to function. Your sensors are impaired, half your weapons don’t work and the other half can only be fired on manual. Your engine room is held together with duct tape. I need you in the fight, but there is a good chance your ship is going to fall apart once things get hot and you know it. If that happens, I can’t afford the time to shift command to a new ship. Tuttle has already worked with the
Yorkshire, Kent
and
Galway.
She gets the job.”
Captain Specht didn’t like it, but said nothing.
“What about me?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate
Everest.
“Johanna, the
Everest
won’t last ten minutes once the fighting starts, not going toe-to-toe with Duck cruisers. I’ve got something else for you. I want you to return immediately to the Atlas –” Fuller began to protest, but Rowe cut her off – “and find Lord Henry. Tell him that I have ordered you to remove Queen Anne from the Atlas and take her at the fastest possible speed to Refuge. Get her to safety, Johanna, even if you have to remove her forcibly from the Atlas. Do you understand?”
Everyone understood: Captain Rowe didn’t think they could stop the Dominion attack. He wanted the Queen removed because the Atlas was going to be destroyed.
“Sweet Gods of our Mothers,” someone muttered.
Captain Fuller nodded grimly. “I’ll see you all in Refuge.” Her face disappeared from the comm screen and in a moment the
Everest
was accelerating hard back toward the space station.
“You’ve got your orders,” Rowe said briskly. “Keep attacking until you have exhausted your missiles, then use lasers as best you can. Don’t let up! We are buying time here. You are to attack until Admiral Douthat reaches Atlas, then break off and regroup there. Good luck to you.”
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself, then looked around the bridge. Alex Rudd was busy tying in the other ships into the
New Zealand’s
communication system. Chief Gibson looked dazed, but began checking his inventory of missiles and drones. Betty stood at the comm console, tears streaming down her face. She forced a smile when she saw Emily looking at her and nodded, lips trembling. Mr. Partridge was whistling a soft tune under his breath, giving his sensors a once-over.
“Alice, tell the other ships to go to passive sensors and stealth conditions. We are going to go high and attack the Duck battleship from above. Detailed instructions will follow soon.”
As soon as I can figure out what the hell I am going to do.
The first attack with anti-matter weapons destroyed about a third of the remaining layer of the Vicky minefield. Admiral Mello was disappointed; he had hoped for more.
“How long before we’re ready for the second attack?” he asked Captain Pattin. The anti-matter missiles had to be loaded manually. They were configured differently than regular missiles and were not compatible with the auto-loaders. A serious design flaw, in Mello’s opinion, but there had not been time for a reconfiguration of the missiles or the auto-loaders before they left Timor.
Captain Pattin glanced at her console. “Thirty minutes, Admiral.”
Mello fumed and cursed the men who designed the damn anti-matter weapons without proper consideration for combat conditions. “Very well. Order all ships to match speed with the Vicky minefield and keep an eye out for those Vicky destroyers. They’ll be desperate to break up our formation.”
“As you order, Admiral.
Emily took the
New Zealand, Emerald Isle
,
Yorkshire, Kent
and
Galway
higher and higher into the minefield, until they were five hundred miles above the plane of advance of the Duck battleship. By then the minefield had thinned out and they would become starkly visible once they left its meager shelter. The Dominion cruisers had slowed their rate of advance and were plodding along. She didn’t know what they were waiting for, but she fervently wished she had some anti-matter missiles of her own. Somewhere below her, Captain Rowe was slowly picking his way through the minefield, hoping to get as close as he could to the Duck cruisers and catch them by surprise. It was a desperate gamble.