No Way to Start a War (TCOTU, Book 2) (This Corner of the Universe) (12 page)

Each
Hollaran missile wave brought with it a new surge of fear compartmentalized
only by years of training and Gary’s desperate desire not to let her crew
down.  As the waves broke over the CortRon’s defenses, relief was tinged with a
mild guilt when
Aspis
sailed away from each cloud of defensive fire
unscathed.  Despite knowing that the hits to the frigates were unavoidable, it
seemed somehow unfair to elude the horrendous fate they were experiencing just
light-seconds from her.  Worse still, escort destroyers had begun to succumb to
the relentless Hollaran assault.  After two years of watching Shane Durmont
play favorites with Stephanie Moore in Narvi, a real hatred for
Sentinel’s
commander had been born.  That animosity had unraveled, however, in the opening
moments of the current engagement.  Gary and Moore were now sisters-in-arms as
far as she was concerned and all the petty slights and jabs of the past were so
much cosmic dust in a solar wind.  Gary’s heart wrenched with
Sentinel’s
hits and the depth of her concern for the well-being of its captain surprised
her.

The
tactical situation was beyond desperate.  With
Sentinel
streaming
atmosphere and the frigates decimated, it seemed impossible to stop the
remaining Hollaran missile wave.  “How soon, Devon?” Gary asked with
stress-filled urgency.

The
navigator answered with an equivalent amount of anguish, “We won’t be in
position until well after the wave hits, Captain.  I’m sorry.  At least we’re
still in a better location to help cover the center than we were.”

Gary swung her head toward
her weapons officer to offer encouragement.  The junior officer was fully
absorbed in his duties. 
There’s no point in saying anything to him
,
Gary thought. 
He’s so focused that he’d never hear me anyway.
 
Plus,
what’s left to say? 
The missile wave began to enter the task group’s
failing RSL perimeter.  Gary saw dozens heading for
Aspis
.

*  *  *

Ensign
Gables sat in her F-3 as the ground crew rushed around it.  Petty Officer
Rhodes was keeping one eye on the effort to recharge the fighter’s power cells and
the other on his three spacemen to ensure they stayed well away from the rear
of the Pup.  Contrary to fleet regulations, the F-3’s engine was still under
power.  Word had spread to the hangars that the yellow-suited safety officers
would be turning a blind eye on that specific regulation in an effort to reduce
the recycle time for the carrier’s fighters.  They were ordered to rearm as
quickly as possible and once an F-3’s engine turned off, it took nearly ten
minutes to bring it back up to its full potential.

The ground
crew had just concluded the after-sortie checklist and was frantically waving
the
armament systems
specialists forward.  The weapons loaders swept in to connect the quartet of
anti-ship missiles to hardpoints under the Pup’s stubby wings.  As the missiles
were attached, the crew chief began his way down the pre-flight checklist.

Inside the F-3, Gables hardly noticed the flurry of activity
around her.  With the squadron split between those that had landed and those still
in the missed approach pattern, the chatter on VF-25’s communication frequency
was non-stop.  Flight leaders were busy trying to ensure no pilot was without a
wingman even as the squadron commander was briefing the next mission.

Eagle’s
warning klaxons broke Gables’ concentration as they blared inside
the hangar and the chatter on the comm frequency stopped so abruptly she
thought she had lost the channel.  Looking outside her canopy, Gables saw the
red-suited ordnance handlers dashing toward the nearest firefighting equipment
just meters away.  Her heart leapt into her throat as her first thought was her
Pup had caught fire.  Bashing the controls to open her canopy, she then heard
VF-25’s commander shout over her headset, “Eagle’s been hit!”

Oh thank God
, she thought before catching herself. 
Heh, normally I’d be as
upset as everyone else but that’s a much better alternative than having my bus
catch fire with all this ordnance and a fuel cell charger around.  I guess it’s
all a matter of perspective.

As Gables resealed her canopy, the squadron commander recovered
and spoke again.  “It sounds like Eagle took one starboard.  The sensor wing is
down and the maneuvering drives on the starboard nacelle are offline.  We’re
still a go for launch.”

Hearing the news, Gables depressed her comm control to bounce to
her alternate frequency.  “Rhodes, the hangar’s fine.  Get those redsuits off
the booster hoses and back on my ASMs,” Gables ordered.  She saw the PO nod and
then wave his arms wildly at the weapons loaders.

When Gables turned back to the squadron channel, she heard all
three flight commanders requesting an update on the Hollaran missile attack.  Rolling
her eyes at the futility of the request, she thought,
Eagle’s officers have
a lot more pressing matters than giving us wing-weenies a play-by-play of the
attack.  Yes, it’s natural to want to know if the next wave of missiles is
going to destroy your ship but as frustrating as it is not knowing, it’s much
better to let the guys in the middle of it do their job while you concentrate
on yours.
  She refocused on her own pre-flight checklist, trying to push
the uncertainty of her future to the back of her mind.

Two
minutes later, an announcement that fighter recovery operations had resumed
came through the main comm channel. 
I guess Eagle made it
, Gables assumed. 
They’d only have resumed if the missile attack was over.
 
All in all,
one hit isn’t so bad. 
She smiled to herself.
 Nice going, Captain
Heskan… score one for the escorts
.

Lieutenant
Heskan reached through his open helmet visor and wiped the sweat from his
eyes.  He looked anxiously at
Kite’s
status display as he said, “Chief,
I’ll need that damage report as soon as you have it.”

Chief
Brown gave him one of his “looks” at the pointless order but replied, “Yes,
sir, I’m coordinatin’ with Lieutenant Spring now.”

Heskan
nodded and focused on the tactical display to assess the fleet.  The final Hollaran
missile wave had hurt badly.  With most of the squadron’s RSLs overheated and
the earlier damage to
Sentinel
, eleven missiles had weaved their way
through the CortRon’s point defense network. 
Coach
had meekly followed
her sister frigate into oblivion. 
Sentinel
, to her credit, had fought
valiantly to protect her portion of the formation.  Captain Moore’s final AMS
shots destroyed missiles heading for
Eagle
even as seven others bore
down on her ship.  Six of those seven had struck
Sentinel
and Heskan had
watched her symbol on the tactical display darken, marking her end. 
Aspis
had taken a hit near her bow and she had dropped immediately from the defense
network. 
Probably lost a lot of the sensor equipment located near the
Hawkeye platform,
Heskan realized seconds after it happened.  His own ship sustained
damage when a Greyhound detonated six hundred fifty meters from AMS Pulse
Turret-30.  The loss of the weapons system, and more importantly the spaceman
controlling it, was almost assured.  Heskan had heard Lieutenant Vernay inform
WEPS that RSL-7 was unresponsive as well.  Finally, Truesworth had reported the
loss of the shield generator located closest to those weapons systems.  The
only escort spared from the carnage had been
Bulwark
.  The light cruiser
had regally glided untouched in her position inside the formation throughout
the entire ordeal.

We
have just two ships on the defense network
, Heskan thought. 
One more wave would have wiped
us out.
  He scoured the tactical display for information about the Brevic
carriers. 
Avenger
looked clean but
Eagle’s
course skewed
slightly to starboard. 
Will Eagle be able to fly straight with those
outboard maneuvering drives gone?  Surely the fighters can’t land when the
carrier is skidding like that.

On
the other side of the tally sheet, the second fighter strike force’s missile attack
on the Hollaran Vanguard fleet had been completely ineffective. 
There were
simply not enough fighters in that group to overwhelm the Hollie escorts.  It might
have been smarter to hold them to launch with the next strike force.  Now they’re
going to have to perform strafing runs against the carrier.
  Heskan felt a
chill run down his back.  The escort pulse lasers defending the Hollaran carrier
would have a field day against the fighters, who would be forced to
knife-fighting range to attack the carrier with their hull-mounted GP lasers. 
Maybe
they’ll be spared that kind of suicide run
.  Heskan calculated speed, time
and distance. 
Nope, even running flat out, that Hollie carrier needs
another forty-two minutes and thirty seconds to reach the tunnel point and the
fighters will intercept it in forty-one minutes and forty seconds.  That’s
terrible luck for our pilots and the carrier.  Still, if those fighters can damage
its tunnel drive…

“Squadron
message from Bulwark, Captain,” Truesworth said as he put the transmission on
the wall screen.

Even
though
Bulwark
had not taken a scratch of damage, Durmont looked
shell-shocked. 
Bulwark’s
bridge lighting reflected prominently in his glistening
eyes.

“This
is the commander,” Durmont began, his voice flat and emotionless.  “The fleet
has orders to come about and head toward Task Group Two-Two.  It will be a port
turn to help keep our distance from the enemy fleet three light-minutes from us.” 
The screen went blank as soon as he closed his mouth.

“We
protected the carriers and Bulwark didn’t take a hit.  Why is he taking this
battle so hard?” Vernay asked Heskan in a hushed tone.

“He’s
human, Stacy,” Heskan answered. 
It is strange though.  This man didn’t lose
a wink of sleep over Anelace so why would he act so concerned about losses
now? 
Heskan reflected back to Durmont’s final, frenzied call to
Sentinel
. 
Was their relationship deeper than I thought?
  He shook off the notion.

“Capt’n,
the shields took the brunt of the impact but AMS Thirty is out of action along
with the Gibson shield generator just aft of it.  Best guess is they’ll be out
until we can repair at a yard.  RSL Seven has shock damage but that’ll be fixed
in a few hours.”

“And
the butcher’s bill?”

“Five
KIA, two wounded,” Brown rattled off the numbers quickly.  “Just smoke
inhalation on the wounded so they’ll be all right.  It could’ve been much
worse, Capt’n.”

Heskan nodded.  “Thank
you, Chief.” 
Five deaths.  Were any of them former Anelace?
he wondered
and instantly was overcome with guilt for thinking such a thing.
 They’re
all my responsibility whether they’re strangers or not.

*  *  *

The
task group’s turn to port took longer than usual. 
Eagle
, which would
have relied heavily on her outboard starboard maneuvering drives, wallowed like
a pig.  Although slower, the wider turn did keep the enemy Vanguard force from
closing faster than it would have otherwise.  The Hollaran force was 2
lm
from the carriers but now in a stern pursuit, chasing them in a vain effort to
reduce the distance to heavy laser range.  By Heskan’s estimate, given the new
heading of the fleet, the Hollaran force would not be able to achieve its goal
before his group rendezvoused with the surviving Brevic missile ships. 
With
the remnants of Task Group Two-Two charging toward them, the Hollarans have to
break off unless they want to face our combined groups.  Plus, we’ll have our
fighters rearmed soon.

As
the engagement hit a lull, Heskan ordered
Kite’s
operations section to
focus repair efforts on RSL-7.  Although he did not believe the weapon could be
restored before the end of the battle, it seemed more efficient to have his
damage controlmen working toward that end rather than sitting at their stations
during the pause.  He knew there would be plenty of time for those crewmembers
to race back to their damage control stations before the next encounter.  With
Vernay closely monitoring the tactical situation, Heskan sent a comm request to
Aspis
and
Bulwark
.

Lieutenant
Gary’s face appeared on his command chair’s arm console almost immediately.  “That
was pretty much the most awful thing ever,” she said in a lowered voice.

“How
bad are things on Aspis, Kelly?” Heskan asked sympathetically.

Gary
sighed before responding.  “I have thirteen dead in the forward sensors
section.  The Hawkeye is gone and we lost a quad AMS.  It really creamed us. 
I’m not even sure how that missile hit where it did since the Hawkeye was on
the far side of the bow from the attack.”  She raised her hands in disgust.  “We’re
basically blind now.”

“It’ll
be okay, Kelly.  Kite has full sensor capability so we can be your eyes.  Can
you get Aspis back on the defense network?”

“Yes,”
Gary answered without hesitation. “We have to or we’re worthless to the
CortRon.”

Heskan nodded in
agreement as his comm screen split in half and Lieutenant Commander Durmont
joined the channel.  Durmont looked at both ship captains briefly before mumbling,
“Good.  Thank you, Garrett, for getting this meeting together.  What’s the
situation with your ships?”

*  *  *

As
Heskan began the rundown of
Kite’s
battle damage, Lieutenant Vernay
could hear fragments of the conversation.  Most of her attention was on
monitoring
Kite’s
position while coordinating with the ship’s operations
section to affect repair.  With Lieutenant Spring and Chief Brown actively
involved, she tried to stay out of the efforts as much as possible.  They had
things well under control and Vernay knew better than to stick her nose too
deeply into the repair role when the section heads could handle it on their
own.  The only ship management on her part was denying Lieutenant Spencer’s
request to leave the bridge briefly to inspect the damage to his RSL and quad laser
turrets.  She had sympathized with the request but it was impossible to permit
the weapons section commander’s absence from the bridge.  She had not failed to
notice Spencer’s cold look when she rejected his request
.  More fuel for the
fire,
she thought darkly
.  There’s already bad blood between us.

“Ma’am,”
Truesworth said, turning in his chair to face Vernay.  “The Vanguard fleet is
changing course.  It looks like they are turning toward the tunnel point.”

“How
far are they from it, Jack?” Vernay asked.

“Fourteen
and a half light-minutes.  We’re still six and a half from Task Group Two-Two.”

Vernay
turned her head to Selvaggio.  “Diane, how long until we join up with Two-Two?”

Lieutenant
Selvaggio rapidly typed on her console and navigation lines appeared on the
bridge’s tactical plot.  “Twenty-five minutes, although on our current heading
we won’t join up with them.  I think we’re on a course to place us about three
light-minutes trailing them.”

Vernay
looked at the plot. 
That makes sense.  No reason to have the carriers on
the battle line while we still have four front-line ships to lead the way. 
She
inwardly cringed and looked surreptitiously sideways at her captain. 
I
should have realized that… I’m glad he’s still talking to the other ship captains
and missed it.

The
four groupings of ships crawled toward their respective destinations on
Kite’s
tactical plot.  The Hollaran Carrier group had closed to 3.6
lm
of the
Kale tunnel point.  Streaking toward them off to port, the fifty-five fighters
of Task Group 3.1’s second fighter force thundered in at .3
c
.  The
flight commanders of that force were organizing their pilots into orderly
strafing formations.  They would have only fifty seconds to attack the carrier
before it reached the tunnel point, barely time for two passes.  Each pilot in
formation labored to lock on to the drives of the colossal enemy ship.  The
targeting of those drives was risky.  Clean misses were much more likely than
if the pilots simply targeted the center of the carrier; however,
Avenger’s
admiral had determined that only two passes from the fighter group would do minimal
damage and that the fighters must focus their attacks on the carrier’s drives
to prevent it from generating a tunnel effect to escape the system.  Once
target computers achieved their locks, there was little left for the pilots to
do other than contemplate the madness of their charge.