Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet (48 page)

The attack on the Indra
ships had been a catastrophe in the making. It had triggered
something within the hearts of the aliens—something they had not
known for many millenniums.

Primordial urges and
feelings that brimmed with fury and revenge awakened within the
ancient race. The stupidity, arrogance, and baseness of an
abomination resulted in the deaths of many of their kind. And this
most certainly demanded not to be tolerated in the
least.

Driven by this need for
retaliation, the Indra methodically calculated the strengths and
weakness of both sides. Finally it became of no consequence,
however, as both forces spent themselves in their contest. The
Indra drew their plans of intervention. In bright flashing and
shifting rifts they made of hyperspace, they called out through
multiple dimensions and summoned more of their ships to join
them.

* * * * *

“
Thirty-six ships, Admiral!” the command and control computer
of the
Ruthann
reported to Admiral O’Donald as it hovered before
him.

“Are you sure?” the pasty
face Earth fleet cyborg officer asked unbelieving.

“Yes, Sir,” the computer
held absolute to its count.

“That’s all that is left of Admiral Darius’
command?” Admiral O’Donald questioned again, completely shocked at
the catastrophic military engagement.

“Affirmative, Sir,” the
computer repeated.

The
multitude of explosions within the asteroid belt nearly pegged
the
Ruthann’s
sensors. What’s more, he saw an inextinguishable fire that lit
the horizon with ships ablaze and burning out of
control.

O’Donald was dumbfounded as
to how Selena’s division could have been caught and destroyed so
easily, and there was more bad news. With the destruction of
Selena’s fleet, the Martians’ counter-strike was about to fall upon
him. Furthermore, the odds were basically even. With maneuvering
restricted by the asteroid field, which hovered just below his
division of ships, it promised to be a most bloody fight. However,
the admiral gave serious thought to the problem and came up with
his own alternate strategy.

After given the order to
attack by Selena, his ships were deployed in a basic battle
formation of twenty short columns in seven rows. He believed in
simplicity and tried-and-true methods rather than relying on
technology and this was the ideal situation to prove it.

“Crossing the T” was an old
naval tactic to where warships delivered a massive broadside to the
opposing forces attacking in a head-on frontal assault. As O’Donald
studied the Martians ships pursuing Selena, he grew confident that
this ploy would work. Using the asteroid field to his advantage,
the Martian ships were to be caught in their own trap. Unable to
maneuver, he envisioned their total destruction as they either
continued straight-on into his guns or tried to flee by pulling
upwards and away.

“Computer,” O’Donald
addressed “Give the order to the task force to begin an immediate
270 degree turn to port, back in the direction we came
from.

Captain Lunda was somewhat
perplexed by the action. “Are we retreating, Admiral?” she
questioned.

O’Donald smiled slyly.
“No!” he flatly stated. “With a little luck, it will look like
we’re going to run. But what we’ll really be doing is forming a
massive gunline using every ship together in rows. All our weapons
we will be brought to bear on the Martians in a massive broadside!
Blocked by their own asteroid field, they’ll have no place
go!”

“But what about Admiral
Darius’ ships?” Captain Lunda asked puzzled. “They’ll be in the
direct line of fire.”

O’Donald’s smile grew. “As
far as I’m concerned, they’re nothing more than bait. The Martians
would never guess that we’ll fire through our own ships,” O’Donald
informed Captain Lunda. “Selena wanted glory. Well, she can have
it—posthumously!” O’Donald chuckled.

Suddenly,
the
Ruthann’s
computer blared out a loud caution, “WARNING! GROUPS OF
MARTIAN FIGHTERS APPROACHING FROM BOTH THE PORT AND STARBOARD
QUARTERS!

“HAVE ALL
SHIPS PREPARE TO LAUNCH FIGHTERS!” O’Donald responded to counter
the not so unexpected “hammer and anvil” threat of hitting both
sides of his fleet simultaneously. But suddenly the
Ruthann
shook from a
detonation near to its bridge. The cyborg admiral fell to the deck
as an explosion violently swayed the deck.

“ADMIRAL, A THIRD FORCE HAS ASCENDED FROM THE
ASTEROID FIELD DIRECTLY IN THE PATH OF THE FLEET AND IS LAUNCHING
MISSILES!” the computer abruptly warned of the unanticipated enemy
attack.

O’Donald cursed his
stupidity and quickly sprung to his feet still slightly shaking.
“WHAT ARE THEY?” O’Donald demanded to know composition of the new
menace.

“SHUTTLES!” the computer
informed.

* * * * *

“That’s for you, dad,”
General Franks whispered to himself, remembering how his unarmed
father was mercilessly cut down in front of him by Earth security
forces on Mars. Franks savored the moment as his shuttle force of
leathernecks partially repaid the Earthers for some of the
brutality the Martians had suffered at the Earthers’ hands. But the
unleashing of all of their big ship-killing missiles was only the
beginning.

It had taken over twenty
minutes to block the advance of the second division of Earth ships.
General Franks had to constantly compensate and shift his intercept
point of his strike force. The Martian Marine had his shuttles
barely skimming the top of the asteroid belt to avoid detection,
however; it had made maneuvering somewhat hazardous. As O’Donald’s
fleet altered its course several times, Franks had come close to
losing a few of the small craft.

Miraculously, however, the
entire marine force now sat directly in front of the advancing
Earth ships. As Franks gazed upon his viewer and watched the last
of the rockets streaked quickly into the unprepared formations and
explode, he grinned, for fate had been most kind. Because of the
unforeseen circumstances of the Earthers dividing their fleet
coupled with his own initiative of arming every shuttle he could
lay his hands on, the marines’ roll in the battle had changed from
one of diversion to a needed strike force. But that was only the
opening salvo.

“NOW, TARA!” Franks shouted
over his microphone.

* * * * *

Admiral
O’Donald was outraged by the sneak attack. Although he had only
lost fourteen ships in the assault, thirty-two more were damaged.
This included the
Ruthann
, which took a hit on its port
side. For this indignation, he prepared to obliterate the tiny
marine force.

“ALL
CRAFT TARGETED!” the
Ruthann’s
computer called out.

“READY TO FIRE ON MY
COMMAND!” O’Donald readied his ships to counter-attack.

Suddenly, Captain Lunda
eyes spied the initial signs of jump points forming on her scanner.
Quickly she yelled out, “ADMIRAL, SHIPS ARE APPEARING OUT OF
HYPERSPACE!”

“WHERE?” O’Donald urgently
needed to know.

“DIRECTLY ABOVE US!” Lunda
hysterically yelled back.

O’Donald’s mind fluttered in confusion. “
Destroyers
?” he frantically
questioned.

Lunda slowly turned to her superior unbelieving.
“Martian freighters!” the stunned cyborg female answered.

* * * * *

Guided by General Franks,
Tara brought her entire task force out of hyperspace and into the
battle. They appeared as several well-gapped and staggered rows a
few hundred yards above the Earth fleet. And as the freighters made
the jump, every cargo bay door had been opened previously—and all
mines activated.

As the Martian ships
stabilized from the dimensional crossover, the mines, which they
carried, flooded out from their cargo holes and fell upon the
second Earth fleet like hailstones. In fiery eruptions, they
blasted the ships from Earth. The Earth vessels faltered, as many
blew apart and their formations began to scatter.

It was at this point that
Flight Leader Boussard and General Franks’ forces charged headlong
into the disorganized flotilla. With missile canisters and plasma
cannons blazing, they attacked bravely and recklessly.

Rocket after rocket poured
out from their small space vehicles in terrible retribution. Each
time they loosened a projectile, another Earth ship was holed,
severely damaged, or destroyed. Hysteria gripped the ranks of the
Earth crews, who immediately took control of their ships from their
own computers and broke away from their squadrons. The gnats were
stinging the elephants into a frenzied stampede.

O’Donald’s ships maneuvered
violently to evade the being hit, some even chancing the asteroid
field, itself. But because of the sharp erratic course changes, the
Earth ships were not able to launch any of their drone fighters.
Those that attempted to do so had their own fighters slamming into
the walls of their own launch bays and blowing up as they took off.
The panic increased.

The utter
chaos, confusion, and destruction of the battle that lay before
Selena were unbelievable. Nevertheless, she vectored the remnants
of her division through the middle of O’Donald’s flotilla. With
virtually the entire Martian fleet intact and pursuing close
behind, there was no other choice. She hoped to lose the Martians
in the intense combat—and make good her own escape. She gave no
thought to Admiral O’Donald’s plight and pushed the
Quinton
and its shot-up
escorts as hard as she could. Seconds later, they plunged through
the heart of O’Donald’s distressed armada.

Selena’s panicky withdrawal
created even more pandemonium, as they entered. Several ships
collided head-on, while driving others to frantically veer off in
haphazard directions. The mad retreat became a route, and any hope
of victory lay broken in a trail of wrecked ships, dead bodies, and
debris.

As Wakinyan closed in for
the kill, he held no pity. These murderers from Earth sought
annihilation—he was about to give it to them.

“FIRE AT WILL!” Wakinyan
commanded his fleet.

In deadly salvos, the
Martian ships initiated a withering bombardment that blew apart
every Earth vessel close to them. They then penetrated the mass of
Earth ships, turning the battle into a melee.

Laser bolts, plasma
tracers, and missiles filled space in every direction. Explosions
and death were everywhere, for there was no safety within this gale
of conflict.

* * * * *

Both Colette’s fighter and
her wingman darted through the maze of destruction looking for
another target. Their flight alone was responsible for damaging
many enemy ships, while killing several others. But because their
mission was to cause total havoc and distraction where they could,
the flight broke up into individual elements of pairs to attack as
many ships as possible.

Separated from the rest of
their squadron, the two carried only enough missiles between them
for one last sortie. And Colette was resolved to make them
count.

Breaking through a gauntlet
of burning and wrecked ships, Colette’s eyes were instantly drawn
to gigantic vessel swathed in crimson red. It was the biggest
warship she had ever seen, and it was taking on several Martian
destroyers as well as fighters.

As she studied the great
red behemoth while it obliterated its foes, it seemed to reach out
to her, like a skeletal hand reaching up from the grave. It
frightened her deeply, but her eyes were hypnotically locked on to
it. The auburn woman then realized that this was where it was
supposed to end.

Although something inside
her told her to run, the brave and proud woman would not yield to
the fear of death. Instead, she would face it as she had always
done, carrying the passion life and the hope of another day within
her heart.

“There, that big one at ten
o’clock low!” Colette called out to her wingman, Bill
Collings.

Collings quickly jerked his
head to look. His eyes swiftly fixed upon the dreadnought engaged
in multiple battles. As he studied the huge ship, a dark sensation
also came over the male pilot as well. The gigantic battleship
became a dark specter, and it shook Collings to his very core. A
fear he had never known before was upon him, and he shuttered in
his seat at the very thought of attacking it.

“Boosy, I’ve got a real bad
feeling about this one!” he confided to his friend. “We’ve done
enough! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

“We can’t just cut and
run!” Boosy tried to reason with him as much as with herself.
“Bill, look around you. This battle hangs by a thread! We’ve got to
do what we can!”

Bill gave a quick sob.
“Boosy—that thing scares me!” Collings confessed.

Boosy’s eyes winced in
emotional pain. “Bill, if it’s our time—it won’t matter where we
go. We won’t live a second longer!” her voice was shaky, while her
eyes streamed a few tears. “But I rather die knowing that I did the
best I could! If you want to cut out—go ahead! I won’t hold it
against you!”