Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines (51 page)

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“Port side contacts, ghosts, ma'am,” CIC reported.

“I know the ships are coming in … wait, did you say port?” the captain demanded, rising to her feet. “Fighters on our port side!” she said, sitting back down abruptly. “We've been hosed! Get on them, guns!”

“On it, ma'am!”

“Contacts are firming up! Fighters and bombers have dropped stealth. Three bombers, fifty fighters! Danger close!” the CIC rating said, his tone of voice rising with the stress and panic.

---<>---<>---

The bombers cycled through their four shots early, then used their telemetry to fire the torpedoes on the twelve fighters. Unlike before where they had targeted the one ship, this time they divided their fire between the two BCs. They also fired from slightly astern to try to catch the ship's vulnerable stern thrusters.

Point defense picked up immediately as the two ships abruptly slowed and turned into the threat. One torpedo was picked off immediately, then another, then counter missiles screamed out, and ECM turned their sensors into balls of angry fuzz.

“That's the last one!”

“Then pull out!” Meia ordered, putting words to action as she dove. Every craft split up in a swirl of drives and countermeasures.

When Meia looked back, she saw one of the last torpedoes going in. It got picked off just outside of the ship's shields, but its warhead went off. She could see some of the blast energize the shield and make it ripple and start to collapse on itself.

“Damn!” she snarled as she got the full report in. The butcher's bill was rough.

---<>---<>---

Amadeus saw the report coming in, but his attention was on his own problems.
Damocles
had gotten in too close covering
Cutlass
and that worried him. The two ships were exchanging long range fire with the BCs and not making any headway. He winced when the two ships took a hit. He ordered the two ships to withdraw and recover as Jojo wordlessly put the fighter's hot wash report up for his viewing.

Seven of the torpedoes had gotten in and done some damage to both ships according to CIC.
Massachusetts
had lost an engine and part of her stern armor as well as several turrets mounted in that area.
Nevada
had taken two hits on her port side, one high which had obliterated many of her turrets on that side. The high hit had glanced off the armor however and done the surface damage but had failed to get into the ship to gut her vitals.

It was obviously not enough. He swore silently as he tallied the losses. They had lost two bombers to hits—one destroyed, one damaged. Eight fighters had been destroyed, another five damaged. Meia was among the survivors. He nodded. “They shot their wad. They are done,” he said. There was no way he'd send them back in. They were fresh out of torpedoes.

“Sir, the enemy is picking up speed slightly. They have changed course for the B-95a3 jump point.”

“Going home to lick their wounds,” the admiral murmured.

“Yes, sir,” the young woman said with a trace of exhausted relief in her voice.

“Then it's time.”

“Time, sir?”

“Time to attack. Get on their six. Tell the gunships to get in there and harass them.”

“But, sir! Their running!”

“And we're going to hurry them along,” he stated. “Issue the order.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

---<>---<>---

The fighters had to wait until their carrier had drifted behind the BC to recover. That took time, which meant the carrier was steadily losing ground to the other ships.

Amadeus had to be aware of the fuel and munition situation. But he also knew the enemy had a similar problem. Sure they had a hell of a lot more, but according to Marshall's damage assessment on
Nevada
, she'd taken a nasty hit to her vitals. One perilously close to her magazines.

The AI had also kept track of the expenditures of each ship.
Nevada
had shot more, so she had to be running close to dry. Her dorsal side was also opened up with little turret coverage left.

Just as his gunships started their run the sixteen missile tubes on the stern of each of the BCs opened up. The unexpected missiles tore into the thirty gunships. The gunships had nowhere to go to evade the onslaught. They were obliterated.

“Frack,” Amadeus muttered.

“They are slowing, sir,” Jojo reported.

“Sir, we're getting a transmission.” Captain Ssri’allth reported.

“Scrub it, then play it,” the admiral said.

“Got anymore toys to send my way, furball? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust as they say,” a voice said, dripping with malice.

“Bastard,” Jojo murmured.

“Yes, he is. But so am I,” Amadeus rumbled. If he didn't chase them, they would have stayed he thought. They would have thought he was ready to give up. He had to keep the pressure on. From now on it was a bluff. He had to harry them on out the way they had came.

---<>---<>---

“Sir, we have activity at the B-458 jump point. Ships, multiple flashes there.”

“Ah, so his reinforcements have arrived.” Captain Post murmured.

“Sir …”

“Relax, we're not sticking around. We're going to escort
Nevada
to Nuevo Madrid, then we'll get a handle on our damage.”

“Yes sir,” the XO said with obvious relief in his voice.

---<>---<>---

“Admiral, we've got a tachyon IFF from a convoy on the B-458 jump point. Captain V'n'll wants a word.”

“I expect he does,” the admiral replied with a slight smile. He felt a bit elated. The timing couldn't have been better. They weren't enough, but it might be the difference he needed to get the BCs to really retreat, not just pretend they were doing so. According to the IFF, he now had two fresh
Arboth
class destroyers, four corvettes, and four gunships to tap. He watched the tachyon update.

“Sir …”

“I'm reading it myself,” the admiral said. According to the report, the colliers had just let the gunships and a squadron of fighters loose.

“Sir, the BCs are changing course to engage the convoy.”

“Order them to move. Stay ahead of the BCs. Give me their manifest lists again,” he said.

“Yes, sir, it's right here,” Jojo said, pulling it up. “They'll never stay ahead of those BCs for long, sir.”

“Believe me, I know. A BC is designed to run down enemy shipping. But I think we can convince them to see the error of their ways,” he said as he tapped the mines and missile pods on the manifest. “Yes indeed.”

---<>---<>---

“Sir, we're getting long range reports of something being ejected by those colliers.”

“Mines or missile pods,” Captain Post stated.

“Yes, sir. Or weapons platforms. We don't know. They also have fighters. That could be more torpedoes,” the CIC rating stated.

“I know that,” the captain said testily. His hands shook. He knew he was exhausted; only the stims and his stubborn pride to see things through were keeping him upright.

“Change course,” he said. “Make for the B-95a3 jump point. They've won this round.”

“I'd call it a draw myself,” Captain Mueller said over the link.

“Anytime we don't win, we lose. And I don't like losing. We're going to come back here and take this star system from that monkey as soon as we can. Now move out,” the captain growled.

---<>---<>---

Admiral White rendezvoused with the convoy to resupply and make hasty repairs. Cutlass and Halsey were stuffed to the gills with fighters and craft but they'd make do.

His corvettes shadowed the BCs off to the jump point, staying just out of their engagement range the entire way. It was an escort he bet he could appreciate but the enemy wouldn't.

“They'll be back,” he said tiredly.

“As long as it's next week. I'm bushed,” Jojo said tiredly. The admiral couldn't help himself. His weary face cracked a smile. After a moment he snorted, then hooted.

“It wasn't that funny,” the woman said, shaking her head and ignoring the chimp's unseemly mirth of relief. Finally, she too smiled however.

---<>---<>---

Once the Horathian warships jumped out of the star system, they started to tally up damage. The loss of ships, fighters, platforms, and people had been high. There were a lot of civilian deaths; he had no idea how many. Possibly in the thousands, though he was fairly sure more had died during the occupation than that short brutal bombardment. The people of Protodon were survivors.

They had secured the star system though, hanging on barely. In the end, that was what mattered. “We held on by the skin of our teeth.”

“That we did, sir,” Captain McGuyver replied with a grin. “Beer!”

“And with the ansible down, we can't tell anyone that. So they will be coming here eventually, gunning for battle.” He frowned then turned to the flag lieutenant. “Find out who is least hurt among the corvettes. Make sure she's got enough fuel and then dispatch her to Kathy's World with a full SITREP update. They can use the ansible there.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“If
John didn't write us off as a lost cause. I hope not, but it was what I almost did,” Amadeus admitted. “Leaving the marines behind would have been painful however.”

“Yes, sir.”

Admiral Irons stood at the podium with the Federation flag draped behind him on his right and the Antigua planetary flag on his left. Governor Randall was with him. Arrayed nearby were many of the delegates from various worlds.

Those delegates were nervous, some terrified. He could smell their fear despite their best efforts to hide it from the public. They had a right to fear.

The enemy had lost four destroyers, four frigates, and ninety fighters. The new Federation had lost three destroyers, five damaged; five frigates, three damaged; six corvettes, six damaged enough to be sent to the breakers; a massive thirty-four gunships, three bombers; and forty-nine fighters. Fortunately, twenty-four of the fighters that had been lost had been stored in the warehouses without pilots. He had to thank the gods for small favors. Forces led by the escort carrier
Admiral Raymond Spruance
were already en route to relieve the damaged ships so the worst hurt could return to Antigua to be repaired. The relief forces were carrying a replacement ansible and new defenses for the jump point.

Now that the enemy knew the defenses were there, however, they would most likely not jump into the same spot. They'd jump short or even jump slightly off the jump point taking the defenders by surprise. He shook his head; they'd have to figure out something. Static defenses weren't enough.

Nor was his intention of building small ships to saturate the enemy and build up his pickets. The two battle cruisers had smashed most of that to smithereens; everything that had been built except the gas giant refinery that had managed to dodge the KEW strike had been blown to bits.

Amadeus's plan to hit Nuevo Madrid was also out the window. There was an obvious place where those two monster ships ended up. He wasn't sure what the Horathian repair yard in the star system was capable of, but it didn't bode well for them.

Admiral Subert was launching his seventh light cruiser in a week. He already planned on having it replace
Shepard
and
Almirante Grau.
The light cruiser division was being sent to B-95a3. The orders had been cut and sent out before his speech. The two cruisers would have to trade off on the picket duty, with one in system and under stealth at a time.

Amadeus had requested
Maine
since
Bismark
was undergoing refit in Antigua. John was tempted to send him the ship, but he didn't want to leave Antigua uncovered with the battleship opened up to be rebuilt. He'd put the request off for the day.

At least they'd have some warning if those battle cruisers came back with a better picket in B-95a3. Phil was also sending along one of the small repair ships Horatio had came up with. A crew of Spacebee engineers were on board. He should have thought of that—gone the small route there and not with the warships.

Missile
Colliers
, true
Liberty
or
Victory
class ships were rolling off the production lines in Antigua, courtesy of Anvil Prime's single yard slip and the Yard Dog's valiant efforts. The navy was buying them up as quickly as they could lay down the hulls. They may have civilian hardware, but they were a hull and were vital for the logistics arteries of the newborn Federation.