Read The Phoenix Project Online
Authors: Kris Powers
“Again you break with tradition, Nadine. Do
I need to reduce you to the rank of student again?”
“Catherine, you need to rescind the
deadline. Our suspicions are true. I have met the aliens. They are called
Ferine and they are definitely extraterrestrial.”
“You’re serious?”
“That is why I broke our traditions. This
is an emergency.”
“Then circumstances have changed. The order
has been given, but the battle may have already begun.”
Order From Chaos: A Look Into The Politics of 2299
by Chris Leacock
Maria sat in her
command chair and watched one of the Coalition’s boxy olive carriers disgorge a
dozen
fighters, each sixty feet in
length, from one of its many narrow hangars.
“Prepare for combat,” she ordered. “All
ships proceed in standard formation and await further orders.”
Maria’s second in command joined her at the
left side of the captain’s chair. Phelps fingered his thick brown mustache
while he studied the situation.
“Odd, isn’t it?”
“Yes, why would they launch so few
fighters? Between their three carriers they have fifteen hundred. Bring up
tactical,” she said to the weapons officer at the station behind her.
The main screen view receded to the top of
the large screen and became one of half a dozen smaller squares lining its top.
A three dimensional view of local space rotated on it axis showing her ships in
blue confronting the group of Coalition ships in red. The red group’s shape was
transforming.
“How long until they’re in attack range?”
“In less than three minutes,” Ben Phelps
replied.
“No change of orders or word of
reinforcements?”
“None that I know of, Sir. The last time I
inquired they said no other warships were available.”
“They’re switching to a different formation.”
The warships represented by small red
computer models moved and shifted position to a three dimensional inverted
crescent. The three enemy carriers moved back to the rear of the formation.
“It looks like a minor variation on a
normal assault tactic.”
“I know, but there are subtle differences.
It’s odd like you’ve said.”
“They’ll be in optimum attack range in two
minutes,” her weapons master said.
“Who’s the commander of their fleet?” she asked.
Phelps pulled a link from his pant pocket and brought the information up in seconds.
“Major General Henderson.”
“It must be my birthday. He’s a notoriously
overconfident strategist,” she said.
“That helps us?”
“I recognize this now. A victorious
commander used a similar tactic over two millennia ago. He probably believes
that no one else reads history. Look there,” she said, indicating the dense
center of the enemy’s formation. “No more than twelve fighters launched and
what appears to be a weakness to flanking on the outskirts of their fleet.”
“They want us to outflank them.”
“Yes, but as we attempt to do so their
ships will begin to move out in what would appear to be a counter to that
flank.”
“They’ll run out of ships and expose their
carriers.”
“Not if they launch all of their fighters
at that moment,” Maria said, indicating the tall box shapes of the carriers.
“We’d be surrounded. They wouldn’t even
need all of their fighters to get the job done.”
“An ancient strategy,” she said. “He’s
already over a barrel. Henderson
just doesn’t know it yet. When will the Coalition force be in attack range?”
“In thirty seconds.”
“All ships are to maintain present
formation. Helm, bring the
Excalibur
to the front of our lines.”
“Aye, Sir,” the helmsman replied. The ship
began to move immediately, passing the many winged silver frigates towards the
edge of the sphere.
Maria’s first officer took his place at her
side. She whispered a series of commands into his ear. He nodded and looked to
the main screen in a state of disbelief. The ship’s movement stopped with over
a hundred Coalition ships filling the screen in their ancient formation.
“All available power to the forward
shields!” Phelps ordered.
“The enemy is approaching optimum attack
range,” her weapon’s officer reported.
“Don’t fire,” she ordered to the officers
across the group, listening through her earpiece. “All particle beam cannons
may fire at will after their fleet has the first shot. Hold all torpedo fire
until I give the command.”
The Coalition frigates of the forward line
grew larger on the screen. Bright stars of light formed across their bows.
“Their weapons are hot.”
“Prepare to fire,” Maria said.
Emerald pulses of energy and orange
torpedoes emerged from the hulls of over thirty war ships. They detonated
across the Alliance
ship’s shields.
“Forward ships open fire,” Maria commanded.
“Fire all PBCs,” Phelps echoed to the
Excalibur’s
crew.
Green lances of energy shot out and
burdened the Coalition warship’s glowing shields.
“Advance at five hundred miles per hour.
Keep our carriers covered and launch all fighters,” Maria said.
Every engine port of the Alliance battle group flared to blue
starlight. The silver warships crowded into the fray and met with fire from the
olive hulls of the enemy ships. Five hundred grey Alliance fighters poured from the wide maw of
their carrier and took up protective positions within the fleet.
“All fighter squadrons move to the forward
lines at center.”
Outside the reinforced hull of the
Excalibur
,
a legion of small fighters, resembling twenty-first century drones, moved at
high speeds to take up positions within the nose of the battle group protruding
into the enemy fleet.
“Fighters, support the warships with your
guns but do not use your ordinance.”
The powerful fighters’ small cannons joined
the chorus of the larger cannons from the warships. The fifty foot long fighters
nimbly evaded fire while scored hits brightened the shields of the heavier
fleet vessels.
“They are presenting a weakness at their
flanks,” one of the analysts at a large tactical situation station reported.
“Let’s appear to take advantage of it.
Instruct the frigates
Avenger
and
Raptor
to attempt to flank
them.”
Her orders were relayed to the warships
which maneuvered their eight hundred foot bulks towards the edges of the
Coalition fleet. In response the crescent expanded slightly.
“The Coalition fleet has expanded their
lines,” the analyst reported.
“Henderson’s
ego has probably inflated to the size of his ship by now,” Maria said to Phelps.
“It’s time for a needle.”
Phelps smiled at the expression. Maria
leaned forward and brought up the tactical display on the two by two foot
console in front of her command chair. She indicated a series of coordinates to
Phelps. The coordinates covered a corridor through the enemy fleet.
“Tell our ships to target these areas with
their torpedoes. Have them set all their warheads for a proximity detonation.”
Maria said.
“They won’t do much damage with a proximity
fuse.”
“They don’t have to. I only need to confuse
their sensors for a few seconds. All of our ships will follow up by discharging
their primary plasma cannons. They can target whomever they choose. I want them
confused, Phelps.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he turned halfway
from her and relayed orders to the rest of the group via his earpiece.
“Helmsman, what is the safest maximum speed
you can navigate with enemy obstacles of equal speed and maneuverability?”
“About a thousand clicks per hour,” he
replied.
“Be ready to bring the ship to that speed
when I give the command.”
“Stand by to fire torpedoes,” Maria said
into her earpiece. The battling ships exchanged storms of particle bursts.
Every ship had a glowing ghost image around its hull absorbing fire. The fleet
advanced at its set speed and met the edge of the enemy formation.
“Now!”
Over a hundred orange globes of flame
catapulted into the enemy formation. All of them converged on the coordinates
that Maria had indicated and burst into a firestorm. The flames formed the
outer edges of a corridor through which a ship could pass.
“Helm, one thousand kph through that
corridor,” she said.
“Aye!”
The
Excalibur
charged the enemy
lines to the shock of the Coalition commander. Its great long bulk flew down a
passage surrounded by explosions provided by the
Excalibur’s
allies.
“All fleet ships but the
Excalibur
:
fire primaries now!” she barked. Nearly sixty beams of blond star fire spewed
from the bows of the Alliance
fleet. Only the
Excalibur
and the carriers remained silent. The comets
of searing plasma slammed into the Coalition’s first line. Nearly twenty of
their frigates suffered internal explosions from shield overloads. Bulkheads
collapsed and rooms were shredded by generators’ booming death rattles. The
enemy’s first line faltered in the wake of the blinding onslaught from the
recharging heavy batteries.
“Fire all PBCs at will,” Maria said to her
weapons officer. The speeding cruiser discharged emerald star light at the enemy
ships in its range, further bewildering the Coalition fleet. Inner line
destroyers slowly turned on their axes to confront the interloper.
“We’ve confused the second line but the
third line’s weapons are hot,” her port tactical analyst said.
“We still have the time we need.”
Ahead of them three tall carriers were in
the distance and growing larger by the second. A group of sharp edged
destroyers and long—necked frigates began to glow from their weapon ports.
“Ready all of our plasma cannons,” Maria
commanded. The voice of the weapons officer answered from behind her.
“Standing by, which target?”
“Target the three enemy carriers.”
“I’ve got them.”
Maria watched as the ship broke right of an
intercepting cruiser on the screen. The shields absorbed a pulsed broadside to
its forward shields. Maria felt the ship tremble in response. She spotted a
frigate on the main monitor flying at a desperate speed to intercept the
Excalibur
.
“Shields are holding,” her weapons master
reported.
Maria regarded the carriers in the
distance, now nearer and unobstructed, but a group of frigates had detached
from their positions and were moving to stop the
Excalibur
.