He now faced two of these incredible vessels and knew immediately that his present fleet would take substantial losses even without the support of three dozen other warships. He looked across the bridge.
‘Comms, get me the status on the
Hermione
.’
The
Hermione
was a Warlock class advanced destroyer, one of the new breed of warships Earth had constructed using the technological advances developed or stolen from alien races. Barely two years old, no finer ship existed in EarthForce, though only five had been built so far.
‘Sorry, sir.
Hermione
reports being already committed, covering Admiral Breckinridge’s flank past Quadrant 37.’
Ward now had to acknowledge that he had a problem. Even with the reinforcements, there was no guarantee they could win this battle, much less so with losses that would be called ‘acceptable’ by bean counters back on Earth.
‘Signal the fleet,’ he said. ‘Break orbit. Destroyers and cruisers, form up on us. Frigates, protect the scouts. Launch fighters and engage their forward screen at the first opportunity. See if we can begin whittling them down early. Put us on an oblique course; make their big ships work to engage us.’
Satisfied that his orders were being carried out correctly, he looked down at the data streams of the Octurion battleships once more, now sporting the Centauri designations
Turhan
and
Cartagia
.
‘How do I fight such beasts?’ he murmured to himself.
July 9th 2263, The Turhan, Beta III
The mood on the bridge of the
Turhan
was altogether different. For some time the Centauri had endured humiliating defeats and setbacks. Forced to withdraw from their own territories, constantly out-manoeuvred in the game of intergalactic politics and then, of course, seeing their homeworld, the jewel of the Republic, bombarded by their enemies. This battle would set them back on the road to glory that was their rightful place. Moreover, they had an enemy ahead of them on which to vent their years of pent-up frustrations and disappointments.
Maintaining a vaguely disinterested façade, as protocol demanded, Minister Provenza was as eager as any of the crew. As head of the fleet, he stood to gain the most when they returned in triumph to Centauri Prime.
He already noted the Earth fleet comprised many of the best ships the humans had to offer, but not one of them could match the
Turhan
or
Cartagia
alone. He regarded their fleet as small. Tiny. Puny. They would sweep across Beta III with majestic pride, crushing each target within range. Even through the thick carpet of the bridge, he could feel the
Turhan
hum with power as it engaged its massive drives and began the slow trek across space toward battle.
Provenza sent his fighters and lighter ships forward to trap the Earth fleet and pin it down, hoping to block any attempt at escape, mildly gratified that the humans seemed willing to engage as they broke orbit from the colony world. Subconsciously, he began tapping a foot in anticipation until three more Earth ships jumped in system close to the rest of their fleet. He smiled as he imagined the human admiral frantically calling for reinforcements when he saw the Centauri jump into realspace to reclaim their territory. It didn’t matter. Call every ship you have, Provenza thought to himself. Today the Centauri demonstrate their true resolve and nothing will save you from our righteous fury.
Across space, the lead elements of each fleet met. Provenza finally moved from his place on the bridge to look over the shoulders of his crew, monitoring the battle and making mental notes for promotions and recriminations later.
The main bulk of the Centauri fleet was some distance from initial weapons range, but across a wide front, small explosions and energy discharges marked the clash with the Earth fighter squadrons. The Centauri s own fighters, a mix of light Sentris and even lighter Raziks, were spearheaded by several gunships and patrol boats. Technically classified as capital ships, these small vessels were light and fast with weaponry intended to punch through fighter screens and similar small ships. Throughout space, a series of dogfights broke out, running battles that expanded, dispersed and combined to create a brawl of exploding ships and bolts of lethal energy.
The Starfury pilots made good account of themselves against the more nimble and numerous Centauri fighters but were forced to give way when the gunships entered battle, their massed particle arrays lancing out to smash entire flights with each salvo. A few squadrons, covered by their comrades, sallied out from the growing furball to make attack runs on the gunships, paying for their heroic efforts with their lives as concentrated fire made it impossible to approach the larger vessels while maintaining a target lock. The Earth line held for a time, then began to buckle as more and more Starfuries withdrew, either through mounting damage or due to superior numbers of the enemy, forcing a retreat that fast became a rout. Several squadron leaders managed to keep their pilots in check, and the initial rush to escape became tempered as they engaged afterburners, hoping to draw the enemy into the big guns of the main Earth fleet.
Many Centauri fighters obliged and were cut down in minutes as the turrets of the Earth cruisers and destroyers worked overtime to fill space with a criss-crossing of pulse cannon fire impossible to fly through. The gunships refused to follow though, having received standing orders from Minister Provenza to hold until the battleships opened fire, as much from his own interest to claim early victories as their safety.
Provenza nodded, satisfied at the opening stages of battle. Everything was proceeding as expected, and he was not concerned about the loss of fighters. They did not win battles and, more to the point, it was unlikely that any noble of good standing would be found among the dead, as fighter pilots tended to be drawn from the ranks of nobles who did not have enough money or political clout to get a commission on a warship. Feeling the soft hide covering the console in front of him, Provenza recognized the proper way to fight a war, not being cramped inside a tiny fighter and subjected to the rigours of high-gravity manoeuvres. He looked up as an aide tried to get his attention.
‘Yes?’
‘Minister, we have jump points ahead. More ships have arrived!’
At first, Provenza was confused at his aide’s words. He was not expecting any more Centauri ships to arrive and was momentarily irritated with the idea that someone, somewhere within the Centauri military had thought he was not capable of winning this battle alone. ‘Whose ships?’ he said.
‘Minister, they are White Stars.’
Provenza stood upright with a start, the surprise evident in his raised brows. Well now, he thought. This is going to get interesting.
July 9th 2263, White Star 8, Beta III
Rocketing into the contested space of Beta III, seventeen White Stars darted forward from their jump points, immediately speeding for a point equidistant between the Earth and Centauri fleets. On the bridge of White Star 8, Sosa quickly listened to hurried reports of the situation outside.
‘Skirmishing has commenced with their lead elements,’ said the Minbari at the weapons station to his right. ‘Sensors detect debris directly ahead of us, trailing away to the Earth fleet. Some fighter-to-fighter battles are still going on, but it looks like we missed the initial clash.’
‘Then there is still time,’ said Sosa. ‘Their governments can both pass off a few scraps between fighters. It is the big ships we have to stop. What are their relative positions?’
The main holographic display shimmered in front of him, plotting the course of his White Stars and marking the Earth fleet to his right and the Centauri to his left.
‘At present velocities, they will be in weapons range of each other within ten minutes. Then again, they are only five minutes away from weapons range of us. . .’ said the Minbari.
‘Oh, that’s comforting,’ said Sosa, as much to lighten his own mood as any of his crew.
‘Do you wish a broadband communication to the fleets?’ asked another Minbari.
‘No. We are going to have to manage each very differently. Get me the Earth admiral first.’
Within seconds, the holographic display changed hue and then presented the face of Admiral Ward to Sosa.
‘White Star fleet,’ acknowledged Ward. ‘It is good to see you. Are you here to lend us support?’
‘Sorry, Admiral,’ replied Sosa. ‘I am here to stop outright war from breaking out. I must insist you break off and leave this system. You are violating the sovereign territory of the Centauri Republic without sanction from the Interstellar Alliance.’
‘We are responding to a legitimate threat to the security of the Earth Alliance, in accordance with the rules of the ISA.’
‘You cannot do this unilaterally, Admiral,’ Sosa persisted. ‘Not without the majority vote of the Council. This is an illegal action, and Earth risks expulsion from the ISA if you persist on this course. Let the Rangers monitor the border between Earth and the Republic--that is what we are here for.’
‘You know that the Council will ratify Earth’s actions here today. I ask again, will you stand beside us against the Centauri? We have reinforcements on the way, but your White Stars will save the lives of many humans today if you commit.’
Out of view of Admiral Ward, Sosa stamped a foot on the deck of the White Star in frustration. He had hoped that the Earth fleet would be convinced to at least delay action. He was not confident that the Centauri alone would be persuaded, but he knew he had to try.
Admiral, please stand by.’ The display went dark, and Sosa signalled the Minister leading the Centauri fleet. It took a full minute for them to respond, which he was sure was a slight of some description. The holographic display presently showed a stern-faced Centauri with a huge hair crest. Dressed in a dark blue greatcoat, he stared down at Sosa, arms crossed in defiance.
‘White Star fleet, you are violating Centauri territory,’ he said with a conviction born of years surrounded by sycophants and yes men. ‘Withdraw or be destroyed.’
Well, that is a good start, thought Sosa. ‘Minister, I bring the respectful greetings of President Sheridan. He regrets the matter has gone this far and seeks a solution that protects the sovereign territory of the great Centauri Republic without bloodshed.’
The Centauri minister blinked at Sosa’s words, encouraging the Ranger to continue. He knew from past experience that humility and flattery could go a long way when dealing with the Centauri.
‘I respectfully ask that you cease hostilities with the Earth fleet in this system and allow me to come aboard to discuss this further. I will be alone and unarmed.’
When the minister smirked at Sosa’s words, the Ranger knew he had failed.
‘White Star, it is my intention to close with the Earth fleet and blast them from our sky. If you intervene, we will open fire on your ships. Persuade your fellow humans to leave our territory, if that is your wish, but we consider any non-Centauri ship in our territory an enemy. We will allow you to leave unmolested, if you do so now.’
With that, the display went blank as the Minister cut the link.
Sosa closed his eyes and sighed.
‘It is as if they both desire battle,’ said one of his Minbari crew.
‘Patch me through to the Admiral again,’ said Sosa. If diplomacy and flattery would not work with either fleet, perhaps a threat would at least buy time.
Admiral, I insist you withdraw from Beta III at once and leave Centauri space,’ he said when Ward’s image appeared once more before him.
‘You know we cannot do that.’
Admiral, see reason. You are outnumbered and outgunned. This is a fool’s errand you are on and it will gain Earth nothing.’
‘I disagree. We already have reinforcements on the way and are more than capable of holding off the Centauri attack until they arrive. I will ask you again, however, to join us against the Centauri. Your ships are powerful enough to tip the balance and will save many lives.’
Sosa shook his head. ‘Neither the ISA nor the Anla’Shok differentiates between Centauri and human life, Admiral. If you continue to engage the Centauri, you do so without the permission or direction of the ISA and risk retaliation from the Rangers in the interests of continued galactic peace.’
Admiral Ward looked surprised. ‘Are you saying you will defend the Centauri and attack us?’
‘Admiral, the Centauri are the injured party here. You have violated their territory, attacked their colony and now refuse to leave.’
Ward fell silent for a few seconds then looked back at Sosa. ‘I have my orders,’ he said and, once again, the display went blank.
Silence fell across the bridge of the White Star until a Minbari spoke over Sosa’s shoulder. ‘What are your orders?’
‘Get me Sheridan, now,’ he said. ‘Get him dragged out of the Council if you need to--we have less than six minutes before all hell breaks loose here.’
July 9th 2263, Mars Dome One, Sol
Shutting down the communications link to Tuzanor, Shaw leaned back from his station, sighing. Tilanna worked hard on the other console, with an occasional sharp but quiet intake of breath that Shaw attributed to momentary frustration. He looked at her petite form, her slender neck rising above grey robes beneath the hard bone crest that bracketed the rear of her entire skull.
‘The White Star fleet has been sent to Beta III,’ he said. ‘It seems EarthForce and the Centauri are going to kick off hostilities there, though they are expecting repeats all along the border.’
When Tilanna did not answer, he tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Please tell me you have gotten somewhere. Once those White Stars reach Beta III it could all be over.’
‘Mmm, yes,’ she said at first, continuing after a pause. ‘I have managed to get through the security protocols on those customs records. I don’t think I triggered any alarms doing so.’
‘You broke them?’ Shaw asked in surprise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’