Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (7 page)

And then there were the people who hadn't yet had a taste of combat, who were nervous and excited.

Renee continued to scowl bleakly as she tallied up the number of missiles they'd shot down. It was a quarter of one of the tin can's armament! Madness! “I don't like it. When it seems this stupid …”

“Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, ma'am,” Simon said. He shrugged when she eyed him. “Personally I don't have a problem with a stupid enemy. If he's that bound and determined to get killed …,” he grinned. “I'll oblige him.”

“I'm going to do any damn well thing I please with a gift Simon, including ask
why
. This is
too
easy. I don't like it when the enemy is this dumb. It makes me feel …” Renee's eyes widened. “It's a trap,” she whispered, body still.

“Trap?” Simon said as the bridge crew's tension ratcheted up a few degrees. They glanced at each other then began to check their equipment. Fortunately, everyone was already in skinsuits.

“It's got to be. We're so fixated …” Renee licked her lips. “Sensors, do a full sweep. I want recon drones on our flanks and stern. Push them out further.”

“Aye, ma'am.”

“Helm, change course,” she ordered. “Didn't we pick up a few other neutrino traces?”

“Faint, ma'am. One pair at the gas giant but it resolved itself to one signal which we identified as the tanker.”

“I'm not so sure,” the captain said, eying the nearby moon. She'd planned to slingshot around it, navigation had built the entire course around that assumption. “Navigation, plot a new course away from that moon.”

“Are you jumping at shadows, Skipper? Or is this a human hunch?” Purple Thorn asked.

“A bit of both. I'd rather have egg on my face than …”

“Fighters coming in from six o'clock low!” a CIC tech called out. "They are almost on top of us!"

“Frack! Sometimes I hate it when I'm right! Battle stations!” the captain said, putting her helmet on.

---<>))))

Since the
Raptors
lacked stealth, hell, they lacked
any
modern electronic counter measures, the fighters had come in ballistic. The CAG checked their status, they were all tied into her fighter through a lightly powered network of whisker lasers. No sign of detection, good.

A day out one unfortunate pilot, Rob Sung, had lost life support. He'd begged and pleaded for them to divert, but there had been nowhere to divert
to
. Nor could any of them risk docking with him and sharing their own limited life support either. Maya had remotely shut his fighter down to keep him from giving their attack away. It was cold, but that was her signature. They all knew the risks. They also knew they were going to get a piece of Federation ass.

She doubted that they knew they'd get hammered in the process. Not until she'd realized it, come face-to-face with it, had she realized how unbalanced their forces were. The
Raptors
were home built. The problems with the ECM were only a small part of the issues they faced. They had some paint and composite materials to lower their sensor profile, but not a lot, which was why they were going in on ballistic with their drives and power plants shut down.

But all that was going to change she thought as they crossed the imaginary Rubicon line. Her long fingers flicked as she brought her power plant up to standby, then her drive, shields, passive sensors, and other systems.

Lieutenant Commander Maya Gisborn smiled nastily in her cockpit. “Got you now,” she said as her finger flipped the last switch to power her drive. She grabbed the stick and executed her attack run as the fighter came fully to life.

---<>))))

Firefly's
point defense lasers and counter missiles lashed out. The counter missiles were overkill; they were designed to take on ship missiles so it was like attempting to hit a cloud of flies with a sledgehammer.

Still, the counter missiles did serve some purpose. They couldn't kick their drives in until they were well clear of the ship's shield and wedge, but when they did they were like a broom, sweeping the laggard missiles away. They tumbled and then exploded.

But the counter missiles blinded the fire control momentarily, allowing the fighter missiles they had passed through to get in. PDL emplacements licked and spat, but they'd had no warning of incoming fire. Before they could fully warm up and their plots settle, the missiles were in final acquisition mode. By that time, it was too late to stop many, if any at all.

“Fighters coming in from the direction of that gas giant, ma'am. They are splitting up, ten, no eleven going ventral, another dozen going for the keel. Looks like … missile spread inbound!”

Renee saw the sparkle on the plot. The fighters had launched missiles and rail gun rounds a few seconds after they'd brought up their drives, then split up to scissor her. It was classic. They strafed her ventral and keel shields as they went around her, then started to pick off fighters coming out of her port side.

“Magnum launch is commencing, ma’am. Starboard point defense is active,” the defensive officer intoned.

“The gas giant … there has to be another ship there. No
way
they came from the tanker. We've positively ID'ed her with visuals,” Simon said in disgust. “They might have rode in on her, but I doubt that too. We've kept an eye on her, not the gas giant,” he said.

Renee nodded. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted.

“CIC, put an unknown tango around the gas giant. Paint it outside our view,” Purple Thorn ordered. “We'll deal with it later. Unless you want a …,” she paused as the ship bucked. Some of the missile spread had been taken down, the rest had hammered into their shields, “… unless you'd like us to launch a recon drone that way, ma’am?” the TACO asked.

“In a moment,” Renee said as the enemy fighters hammered at her shields. She couldn't launch fighters from her starboard side; the shield was still fluctuating wildly. Her boat bay officers had focused on launching fighters from her port bay for the moment with disastrous results. When the starboard was clear, then they'd launch.

---<>))))

“Distraction followed by distraction before the real magic begins,” Admiral Von Berk murmured as his ships moved out from behind the moon in a sling shot maneuver that would put them behind and on the starboard flank of the enemy cruiser. “Misdirection at its finest,” he muttered. He'd have to remember to take notes after the battle; it would be great for his memoirs and stories in the O club.

He watched as Maya's fighter icons went from blue to red one by one. It'll be worth it; they knew it was for a good cause. It'll make for one hell of a news piece back home he thought, making a mental note to play up the sacrifice of the fighters while saving as much video footage as he could.

“Sir, the fighters are nearly expended. Only the CAG is left and she's running,” his chief of staff reported.

The admiral had other things on his mind; however, his intent was clear. “Now! Flank speed! Up their asses and tear them a fecking new one!” the admiral growled.

“You heard the man!” the captain echoed, grinning savagely.

---<>))))

“Starboard shields are down to 40 percent,” Lieutenant Edigner, the chief engineer reported over the VOX. “We'll get it back in five or ten minutes, Skipper. We've got some strained nodes on that side. Fortunately, no physical damage so far,” he said.

“Good work, Chief, get me those shields back,” the captain growled.

“Captain! CIC here, we've got four, repeat four cruisers coming out from behind the moon on our six! One million kilometers out and approaching fast! One heavy, one medium, and two light cruisers based on their mass and drive readings. They are ID'd as Zulu one through four. We're still checking for class …”

“Frack,” Renee murmured, checking the plot.

“One distraction after another to get us to focus our attention everywhere else but where we should. Well, they aren't stupid,” Simon said darkly. He nodded to the skipper. “You were right, ma’am.”

“No, not stupid. Definitely not. But we were, or I should say I was very stupid,” Renee said, shaking her head in self-disgust and loathing at the trap she'd walked her ship into. The enemy had used the mass of the moon to deaden her neutrino detection. She'd made a cheery mistake not scouting behind it first, and it was biting her in the ass. He glanced at her. “Never mind, I'll kick myself later.”

He nodded.
If
there was a later was left unsaid.

“Missile spread inbound!”

“Roll ship! Get our starboard side away from that missile spread! Defense, fire at will, fire plan Baker!”

“Fire plan Baker, aye, ma’am!” Ensign Drum echoed.

---<>))))

Losses quickly mounted up, faster than she had expected. They'd managed to pop some of the fighters the Feds had gotten off on their port side before they could settle in and fight back; they'd been fools to dump them in ahead of the fighters.

In theory it would have been a waste to dump them in behind as well, since they could have kept running and no one could win a stern chase unless the prey ran out of fuel. But they hadn't. She was glad the enemy had screwed up again, but there was a limit on how much she should take advantage of it.

Each fighter her people had blown up had been one of her fighters not taking on the mother ship itself. She cursed at her pilots to focus on the cruiser. “Quit fracking around or I'll shoot you myself!” she snarled when Baker flight tried to line up on a wounded Fed fighter. They sheepishly turned about and reformed for their firing pass.

She watched with a critical eye as the pair bored in. But the
Resolution
wasn't one of the Horathian ships; she was fully restored. They might have surprise on their side, but surprise was fading. As she watched, portholes in the shields snapped open and point defense lasers lashed out. Her computers painted them on her HUD. Before she could scream a warning, the lidars locked onto Baker flight and the PDL itself opened up, tearing them into floating gas.

Charlie flight tried to capitalize on the open shield windows, but just like that the windows snapped shut and new ones elsewhere opened up to fire on them.

“That's one tough ship!” she said. She sent a signal to the flagship with all of the data she had managed to acquire. She began detailing additional observations verbally as her hands flicked to link in with the surviving fighters to get them to pool their observation data to her fighter.

“Starboard shields are weakened. She's got fast reaction time with the point defense. So, this is going to get ugly,” she muttered as she looped her people around for another run.

“Form up on me. Save the last of your missiles for a bombing run. We're going to make a strafing pass, then you'll dump the missiles out like I showed you. Kick them clear with a delay on their timers. The enemy will be focused on us. When I give the order, we pull up.”

“Oscar maneuver with a twist, ma’am,” Jello said over the net.

“Quit being a suck-up,” Larry growled making smooching sounds.

“Can it,” Maya growled.

“I thought we were done?”

“Well, you thought wrong, as usual. So form up. Let's do this,” Maya growled, tightening the grip on her stick.

---<>))))

“Commodore” Firefly felt almost helpless since he couldn't attack through any computer networks. He'd tried, but they were insulated against such an assault. The enemy had learned. He did his best, however, and following protocol he captured as much combat chatter as possible, including video. It was encrypted, but they could do something about it later.
If
there was a later.

“Ma'am, CIC here. Tangos 1 through 3 are moving out from the planet.”

“Planning to pin us between them and the enemy behind,” Renee observed.

“Exactly,” Firefly stated.

The tin cans would normally not be much of a road block, barely a speed bump to
Firefly
unimpeded. But she was being chased by four mastiffs that massed nearly as much as her. She was outnumbered and outgunned. Things were going to get ugly.

“Helm, break course 260 by twenty. Up and over the moon, let's not slingshot around when we don't know if they left anything nasty behind for us to run into,” Renee ordered. She would kick herself for not checking the damn moon with a recon drone later. If there was a later.

"They are firing destroyer class missiles. The four tin cans ahead of us are moving in as a blocking force, ma’am," the JTO stated.

"We need a way out of this. Fast," Renee stated, looking at her tactical officer expectantly.

“Mines,” Purple Thorn murmured thoughtfully. The XO looked sharply at her, then the plot, but when he didn't see anything, he settled back down into his normal duties.

---<>))))

Admiral Von Berk smiled wolfishly as the enemy's stern mounts fired desperately back at him. Her chase missile tubes were firing at a fast rate, far faster than his were capable of, but not enough. They were giving back less than a quarter of his fire, though it seemed more accurate. He swore when he saw the numbers, yes, far more accurate and faster to boot. Did they get the full Federation download?