Ep.#8 - "Celestia: CV-02" (20 page)

“What is it, Ensign?” the lieutenant commander finally said.

“Ensign Delaveaga reporting for duty, sir,” Luis announced as he snapped a salute.

“Lieutenant Commander Kovacic,” the officer introduced as he returned the ensign’s salute with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “What’s your rating?”

“Uh, tactical, sir,” Luis stumbled, surprised to see a lieutenant commander and not a captain.

“Great, you’re our new helmsman.”

“Uh, I’m not rated as a pilot, sir,” Luis reminded him. “I’m a tactician… You know—weapons, battle tactics…”

“I know what a tactical officer does, Ensign,” the lieutenant commander interrupted, appearing slightly irritated. “But tactical officers also have to pass basic flight. You did pass basic flight, didn’t you, Ensign?”

Luis’s eyes shifted back and forth. “Uh, yes, sir, I did.”

“Then shut up and sit your ass down in the helmsman’s seat,” the lieutenant commander ordered, pointing at the flight console at the forward end of the bridge. “I suggest you start by familiarizing yourself with the flight controls. We depart in fifteen minutes.” The lieutenant commander patted Luis on the back. “Welcome aboard, Ensign.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Luis responded nervously. He looked around the unfinished bridge. Besides the main flight consoles at the front of the bridge, only two other stations appeared to be operational: the sensor operator’s station to port and the comm station at the rear of the bridge. The tactical station located just behind the command chair also looked like it might be functional, although it was not currently powered up.

Luis made his way forward until he was standing in front of the command chair. He looked at the long flight console that stretched across the middle-forward section of the bridge. There were two flight seats, one on either side of a large center pedestal. He grabbed a passing technician. “Which one is the helm?”

The technician looked at Luis oddly. Luis just looked back, his body language pleading for help. “Navigation,” the technician said, pointing to the chair on the left. “Helm,” he added as he pointed right.

“Thanks,” Luis mumbled as he released the technician. He stepped to the right of the helmsman’s seat on the right side of the center console and sat down, staring at the console as he rotated to face forward. He quickly located the basic flight controls. “Main drive, maneuvering, docking thrusters, navigational display, attitude display…” He continued running through the controls on the console, mumbling them to himself. The main spherical view screen that wrapped around the front half of the bridge and up over their heads snapped on, revealing the view outside the ship. The sudden sensation of being surrounded by the exterior view on all sides gave Luis a start. All around him was the facility’s massive truss work that formed a tunnel around the Celestia. Originally designed to assemble the much larger Defender-class ships like the Intrepid, it stretched far beyond the Celestia’s bow. At the end of the tunnel was open space. Below them, through the truss work, was the Earth, rotating slowly beneath them. His mind momentarily wandered to the billions of people on the surface below who were about to have their lives changed forever.

Luis’s pulse began to race, and his stomach felt like it was tied in knots. He could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He was going to have to figure out how to fly this ship, and he only had fifteen minutes in which to do so.

* * *

“Admiral,” Rear Admiral Duncan began, “we have confirmation that the Jung are now targeting civilian infrastructure: communications, power generation, sewage treatment, transportation systems… Sir, they’re also starting to randomly bombard major cities.”

“They want to break our will to fight,” Admiral Galiardi said, the grim reality evident on his face, “deprive us of the essentials of life.” The admiral looked at his friend and sighed. “I suspect they’ve used this tactic before.”

“We need to recall the Intrepid,” Rear Admiral Duncan said.

“The Intrepid must continue to defend the OAP until the Celestia makes her escape,” Admiral Galiardi reminded him. “Infrastructure can be rebuilt. If the Jung get their hands on those data cores, there may be no stopping them.”

“Sir, with all due respect, we don’t even know there
is
technology in those cores that the Jung don’t already have…”

“Do you really want to take that chance?” the admiral asked, his expression becoming even more serious.

“Then why not just let the OAP and Celestia be destroyed along with the cores from the Data Ark?”

“Because that knowledge may be our only chance,” the admiral insisted. “Look at that board, Marty,” he said, pointing at the tactical map. “We’re losing this battle. If that data survives, there is still hope—hope that some information contained within those cores will enable us to eventually win the war. No, we don’t want it to fall into the hands of the enemy, but we don’t want to lose it either, at least not if we don’t have to.”

“But, sir, they’re targeting our cities,” Rear Admiral Duncan pleaded. “Innocent people are dying. The Intrepid may be able to stop that. At the very least, she could slow them down until help arrives.”

“What help?” Admiral Galiardi challenged. “How many ships are still on the tactical map, Marty? Fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“Our ships can take a beating, sir. We’ve already destroyed five of their ships…”

“And lost twenty-five percent of our battle force in the process. We know our resources, and they’re limited. The Jung have many more ships out there, and they will come. If we don’t get the Celestia and those data cores away now, we never will. The people of Earth will have to hold on for now. The Intrepid can return and engage the Jung forces in orbit once the Celestia makes good her escape.” The admiral looked his subordinate in the eyes, a determined look on his face. “Those are my orders.”

Rear Admiral Duncan looked at his friend. “I hope you’re right, sir. I hope it’s worth the sacrifice.”

“It is, Marty. It is.”

* * *

“Five missiles still on course for the OAP,” Lieutenant Eckert reported from the Intrepid’s tactical station.

“Helm, adjust course. Put us in the path of those missiles,” Captain Christopoulos ordered.

Ensign Hunt shared a glance with his partner, Ensign Villa, who sat at his left at the navigator’s station. “Aye, sir. Moving into the path of the incoming missiles.”

“Combat, Captain,” the captain called over the comm-set.

“
Captain, go for combat,
” Commander Nasser answered.

“Direct all point-defenses to those five incoming missiles.” The captain turned to look over his shoulder at his tactical officer. “Time to impact?”

“One minute!” the lieutenant answered excitedly.

“You’ve got one minute to take those missiles out, or we’re taking the impacts ourselves,” the captain said over the comm-set.

“
Aye, sir! We’ll do our best, but one minute is not much time,
” Commander Nasser answered.

“Just make it happen, Commander,” the captain ordered as he switched off his comm-set.

“Point-defenses are firing!” Lieutenant Eckert reported. “Forty seconds to impact!”

“We are now directly in their flight path, sir,” the helmsman answered.

“One missile down!” the lieutenant reported. “The other missiles are spreading out!” he added with surprise.

“Incoming missiles have fired their engines again,” Ensign Kono announced from the sensor station.

“Are they increasing their speed?” the captain asked.

“No, sir!” the sensor officer responded. “They’re maneuvering, sir, spreading out. I think they’re trying to steer around us.”

“They know we’re not the correct target,” the captain said, surprised.

“They’re probably being controlled from the frigates that fired them.”

“Are we jamming?” the captain asked.

“Yes, sir!” Ensign Kinross reported from the electronic countermeasures station. “Since the moment we left the OAP! But if they’re using laser-based control telemetry, there’s not much we can do about it other than get in between the missiles and their controllers.”

“Will that help?”

“Doubtful, sir,” Ensign Kinross answered. “Without control telemetry, they’d probably revert to their original target instructions. That’s what ours do.”

“Two down!” Lieutenant Eckert reported from the tactical station. “Thirty seconds to impact.”

“Helm, do your best to block as many of them as you can,” the captain said.

“The last three are spreading out farther,” the sensor officer reported.

“Helm, commit us to the center missile!” the captain added. “Combat, all guns on the starboard missile.”

“
Aye, sir!
” the commander answered.

“Captain,” the helmsman called out, “if they’re targeting the starboard missile, I may be able to block the other two…”

“Twenty seconds!” the lieutenant reported.

“Stay on the center missile!” the captain ordered. “It’s the safest bet right now.”

“Three down!” Lieutenant Eckert reported.

“Combat, Captain!” the captain called over the comm-set.

“
We’re already targeting the port missile, sir!
” his executive officer reported, having anticipated his captain’s tactics.

“Good job, Commander!” the captain said over the comm-set. “Just keep those guns on that missile no matter what!”

“
Aye, sir.
”

“Ten seconds to impact!” Lieutenant Eckert reported.

“All hands! Brace for impact!” The captain grabbed the sides of his command chair as the comm officer activated the warning alarms and played the prerecorded message to alert the entire ship that they were about to be struck by a missile. “Stand by to roll ninety to port!” Captain Christopoulos ordered.

The Intrepid’s rail guns continued firing their fragmenting point-defense rounds, forming a virtual wall of fragment that crossed the port missile’s path slightly ahead of her. In a few seconds, the weapon would fly right into the curtain of kinetic energy and be ripped to pieces.

The other missile slammed into the top of the Intrepid, just aft of her midsection. It penetrated the ship’s hull and buried itself deep within her before detonating. The force of the explosion ripped a large hole in the side of the ship, sending pieces of the hull, the inner decks, and a dozen of the Intrepid’s crew flying out into space. A moment later, three secondary explosions occurred from within the ship, creating momentary fireballs that quickly disappeared in the vacuum of space.

At that moment, all of the Intrepid’s rail guns stopped firing.

The lighting on the Intrepid’s bridge flickered as the explosions rocked the ship. The lights finally went out completely. Battery-operated lights kicked on a moment later.

“Hull breach, amidships, just aft of section forty-two! Main power is down!” Lieutenant Chara announced as reports from damage control streamed into his comm-set. The bridge shook as more secondary explosions vibrated throughout the Intrepid’s hull.

“All guns have stopped firing!” Lieutenant Eckert reported from the tactical station.

“Where’s that last missile?!” Captain Christopoulos demanded.

“I don’t know, sir!” Ensign Kono exclaimed. “I’ve lost all sensors!”

The lights suddenly flickered back to life, causing the captain to look about the bridge briefly as illumination returned and systems all around him began to come back online.

“Main power is back up!” Lieutenant Chara reported.

The captain turned to his tactical officer with a sense of urgency. “Our guns?”

“They’re firing again, sir!” Lieutenant Eckert answered.

“I’ve got the target again!” Ensign Kono announced from the sensor station. “It’s past us! Range: twenty-five hundred meters and increasing rapidly!”

“Keep our guns on that target!” the captain ordered.

“Sir, it’s too late,” Lieutenant Eckert reported. “The target is moving too fast! We can’t hit it from behind; our rounds will never catch it!”

“Damn it!” the captain yelled. “Comms, notify the OAP that they’ve got one missile inbound. Impact in…?”

“Ten minutes,” the lieutenant added.

“Yes, sir.”

“Helm, do we still have maneuvering and propulsion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way we could overtake that missile?”

“No, sir,” Ensign Hunt answered. “By the time we turned around…”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” the captain mumbled. “Continue on course for those last two frigates. Bring our nose back on our flight path.”

“Aye, sir,” the ensign answered.

“Combat, Captain.”

“
Captain, go for combat,
” the commander answered.

“Commander, let’s make sure those last two frigates answer for that missile.”

“
Aye, sir,
” the commander answered. “
Our next wave should hit in one minute. We’re already reloaded and are ready to retarget after we get the results from our previous wave.
”

“Very well,” the captain said, clicking off the comm-set. Captain Christopoulos sighed. That one missile was all it would take to destroy the Orbital Assembly Platform. If the Celestia didn’t get out of there soon, she would go down with it.

* * *

Synda pulled on her pants and stepped into a pair of athletic shoes. After quickly tying them, she picked up a shoulder bag from the floor of her bedroom and began stuffing random items of clothing into it. She went to her dresser and dumped all the money from her tips box into the bag before zipping it up and slinging it over her head and across her opposite shoulder, so that the bag hung comfortably behind her. She grabbed her personal comm-unit, tucked it into her pocket, and grabbed the door knob.

A deafening explosion blew the door open and sent Synda flying backward across her small room, tossing her onto her unmade bed. Chunks of the wall flew in all directions, landing on everything, including her and the bed. Her bedroom window blew outward, sending shards of glass raining into the streets below.

Synda lay on the bed, motionless. Her eyes opened, then immediately squinted closed again due to the dust and debris on her face and eyelids. Her ears rang, and all sound was muffled and distant, like her ears were stuffed with cotton. She coughed and spit debris out of her mouth. Another nearby explosion shook the room, and the floor shifted and fell nearly a meter. She felt herself sliding off the bed toward its foot. Another explosion rocked the entire building. This time, the floor fell slightly to the left, causing her to roll over as she continued sliding downward. She reached out as she fell off the right corner of the bed onto the floor and caught the leg of the bed, causing the bed to slide slightly on the deep-pile carpet. Her nightstand had toppled over, and its contents lay strewn about the floor as it shook yet again from another distant explosion.