45 Minutes Later. March 20th, 2267. 04:57 Tau Ceti Prime’s Moon
The Icarus was taking fire from all sides. But her point defense weaponry was doing a stellar job of eliminating the incoming threats. The remaining pirate ships had begun to fall back to their fleet’s command ship to aid in her defense.
Though that number was shockingly small, the kill ratios of the frigate squadrons were absurdly high. The assistance was desperately needed as the sheer number of projectiles that were incoming was more than the Icarus and her friendly cruisers could handle. There was a problem with that strategy though, the pirate ships were densely, relatively speaking, packed together.
“Not many rounds are getting through,” Willy said, “There are so many overlapping defenses that barely anything is getting through.”
“Keep secondary rail turrets aimed at their critical systems,” John said, “Change targets on our forward ones to their remaining cruisers and support ships. Tessa, advise the fleet to conserve their missiles and torpedoes.”
“Aye aye,” Tessa said.
John began to look at his fleet’s remaining armaments. They weren’t critically low on missiles yet, but they were at sub-optimal levels. The fight could continue but any hope of overloading their targeting systems would not happen.
Six pirate vessels blew up one after another in short succession. Withering rail gun fire caused each of the explosions. Two cruisers and four frigates of theirs ceased to be in the span of a pair of heartbeats. This reduced the amount of anti-missile fire but even with those new losses, there was still an overwhelming amount of it left.
The way the pirates were regrouping was also weighing his mind. This was clearly a delaying tactic. Delaying for what though?
“What are they waiting for? Why aren’t they retreating?” Ingrid asked innocently.
“Order the fleet to begin pulling away from the enemies,” John said, “This doesn’t feel right.”
“Spidey sense tingling?” Walter said from behind him, “That’s a ripe environment for targets though.”
“That it is, but it’s too ripe. Barbara, all ahead flank. I don’t like this at all,” John looked over at Tessa, “Hail Oscar, have they detected any coded transmissions?”
“Contacting the Basilone now, sir,” Tessa said as she looked down at her console.
“The fleet is repositioning itself. The pirates are pursuing one of the frigate squadrons,” Willy said.
“Tessa, advise the Orlando to break off at flank speeds, and disengage from combat entirely,” John said as he stroked his chin, “What is their play?”
“Gotta be reinforcements, but they aren’t in real space and there are no messages being exchanged,” Chester said from the rear of the bridge.
“The Basilone isn’t reporting communications being sent anywhere,” Tessa said, “Orlando has confirmed receipt of orders and is breaking away from combat.”
“Are you always this discouraged when things go your way, Captain?” Ingrid sounded almost pained to ask the question.
“Sometimes the enemy is stupid, and they gift you stuff. Something stinks about this situation, no matter how dire it feels for them. Are any of our ships in range of one of their small ship’s wrecks?” John asked.
“We are, there’s a corvette twenty thousand klicks off our starboard side,” Willy said, “Increasing scan resolution. What am I looking for?”
“Recent signs of life. Organic molecules,” John said, “Basically I want to know if those small ships were manned or unmanned.”
Willy looked frustrated working with the scanners. The oftentimes violent, evasive maneuvers made it difficult to keep the scanners focused on the target to do their work. Five minutes of painful frustration later he had an answer.
“That corvette had a crew of four people. Should be the minimum necessary to operate a ship like that.”
“Something doesn’t feel right here. ETA on our reinforcements?” John grumbled about his question.
“Ten hours, they are pushing as hard as they can,” Tessa said, “Eight hours is a possibility if things calm down.”
“Plan on ten then,” Walter said, “If things get heavy on our end you know it’s not going to be smooth sailing for reinforcements.”
“Too right,” John quipped, “How do we avoid…”
“CONTACTS!” Willy shouted, “Twelve slip space ruptures forming!”
“Advise all ships to fall back to the shipyards. Delta contingency plan is now in effect,” John said as he stood up from his chair, “Barbara, we need to draw them to us. Change heading to one-four-six, flank speed.”
“Sir?” Barbara was surprised by the order.
She still inputted it in but hadn’t activated it. John simply nodded at her. While it was an unusual command she trusted in her captain. The change in course was laid in, the Waukesha adjusted its course rapidly and steamed towards the mass of pirate ships. And the nearest four slip space ruptures that were belching out pirate vessels.
“We’re going to draw them away from our forces. I got our fleet into this new mess, which means I am getting this ship and all of you properly stuck into this fight,” John said calmly, “Walter, weapons free, launch anything and everything you’ve got. Do as much damage as possible to draw their ire at us, not our compatriots. Barbara, take us in as low as you can to the moon’s surface. We need to be screaming fast.”
“Understood.”
John walked back to his chair and sat down. Ingrid looked at him and was surprised at how non-emotional he appeared. Her heart was racing, emotions were flooding her senses. Yet there her captain was calm as ever.
That was not the truth at all. Internally John knew that the Waukesha was most likely properly fucked. Their speed and momentum would help them immensely, but the moon was large. It wasn’t going to be of much use to avoid enemy fire. It was all they had though, if they didn’t die in the next ten minutes then John figured they stood about an eighty percent chance of living through to the next day.
The odds of surviving the next ten minutes, however, weren’t great. Though their allies did them a solid by conducting a fighting withdrawal. Lances and rail gun fire continued to pound the pirate fleet. Their reinforcements took casualties almost immediately upon fully transitioning back to real space.
John looked at the tactical display and began his cold calculations. Ingrid had noticed him typing on the holographic keyboard. She didn’t catch what precisely he was doing, but it seemed like that was but one more thing in a long list of things John had planned and accounted for.
“Chief, all reserve power to forward shields,” John said pressing the intercom button to main engineering, “Shit’s going to get bumpy momentarily.”
Grumbling was the only reply that was given. But the order was fully complied with. All available power was rerouted to the kinetic and electromagnetic shields. In just the nick of time too.
Dozens of lances and laser battery volleys came towards the Waukesha. Some were dissipated by the shields. Most flew by the large cruiser harmlessly. Truth be told, John wasn’t worried about these weapons. It was unlikely that they would do any lasting damage to the Waukesha.
Rail guns were the weapons that John was worried about. At least the scariest guns in the pirate fleet were knocked out of commission. But there were an awfully large number of those pesky guns in the pirate fleet. And more ships continue to stream into real space. The one thing working in favor is that despite the large quantity of guns they were all relatively small caliber, not meant for hunting such large game.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Barbara, that course is going to have to work,” John said calmly, “Walter, weapons are still free, fire at will.”
“Been doing that for a while now, sir,” Walter grinned, “This is a weapon’s officers wet dream.”
“Ewww,” Tessa said from her console.
“Seconding that,” John grinned, “He’s not technically wrong though. That is a target-rich environment.”
Every single one of her rail turrets was volley-firing as soon as new rounds were loaded. To an outside observer, it would be an impressive sight. The pirates were hard-pressed to do anything to the angry cruiser. It deftly avoided most of their fire, and what ordinance that was fired true did little to nothing to impede them.
The pirate frigates and cruisers had been brutally battered. The angry cruiser in front of them was terrifyingly accurate. Those that were coming in as reinforcements were forced to hold fire for worry of friendly fire and couldn’t maneuver their bows into a firing solution that worked. Luck, it seems, was on the Waukesha’s side during their mad dash through the new pirate fleet.
In fact, dozens of railgun rounds from the pirate corvettes had struck the Waukesha’s shields. Through the grace of God, her shields held together. But each round wore down her shields bit by bit. They were barely halfway through the pirate fleet and the Waukesha was dying slowly from a thousand cuts.
They were successful in drawing all eyes onto them. The pirate ships that had gone after the other retreating Confederate ships turned back, yet another wave the Waukesha had to successfully fight through before they were free.
“Waukesha, new contacts, adjust course to three-one-six, down forty,” radioed the communications officer from the Basilone, “Previously unseen and unaccounted for pirate forces.”
Barbara shook her head as she furiously entered course corrections, “No no no no.”
“Walter, fire a full salvo of multi missiles, set release point to be five hundred klicks off the bow,” John said.
“Aye aye.”
“You’re hoping to confuse…” Ingrid began to say before the Waukesha shook violently.
“Aft kinetic shields have buckled. Round impacted on the round. Looks to be a cruiser round.”
“ETA on getting out of this fucking mess,” John asked politely and calmly.
“Five minutes,” Barbara took a deep breath.
“Focus, keep driving ahead,” John said before clicking on the intercom button, “Chief, I want a process that will automatically kick in if the main drive cone is knocked out of commission. We need thrust.”
“Already done captain,” Marty said.
“FUCKING BOOM!” Walter shouted, “The Flock of Abraham just ate it.”
“Good fucking riddance,” Walter said.
The viewscreen zoomed in on the large cruiser. A large blue explosion was all that remained of the one-time Alliance cruiser. Her shields had been shredded during the initial attack. Walter had made it a point to pepper the poor ship with more fire on their way. A parting gift of sorts.
One more well-known ally of the Icarus had been put down. The pirates would at this point be frothing at the mouth. John’s fleet had successfully driven them mad with revenge. More than that, live or die, the Icarus was greatly diminished in influence. Her oldest and best supporters had now either been atomized or turned into scrap metal and human popsicles.
If the Waukesha was destined for death this day, she was going down kicking and screaming. That was the fourteenth ship kill she had chalked up during this desperate dash to freedom. The more they weaved through and around masses of ships, without dying, the more John began to believe they would not die on this day.
“Walter, if you can pop off any shots at the Icarus, target here,” John shared some tactical data through his armrest console to his weapons officer.
“I’ll let the VI create another subroutine and pop off a few rounds,” Walter said, “If we take out enough slip generators, we will be keeping her in the system.”
“More of the smaller ships are beginning to follow us. Their capital ships don’t have the acceleration or momentum to keep up with us. It’s only a matter of time until they overtake us though,” Willy said.
“Tessa, has the Orlando messaged us yet?”
“They have…” Tessa paused, “'In position' was their…”
The Waukesha rolled over unexpectedly. She had suffered a massive impact, several kinetic shielding arrays flared out as they had been overloaded. Despite the advancements made in anti-gravity plating and internal inertia dampers, everyone felt the ship suddenly spin. Five to eight G’s were felt throughout the ship.
As it finished its second roll the engines fired up again and slowly corrected the spin. The downside was they were now heading back in toward the pirates that they were trying to outrun. More time, and desperately, more momentum was lost.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Barbara said as she scrambled to adjust the ship’s course,” Gotta keep up our momentum.”
“So yeah, that was the primary drive cone. She gone,” Marty said dryly over the intercom, “You still have full power and full speed available to you though.”
The Waukesha was rattled two more times. Two of the three aft rail turrets suffered glancing blows. The armor held but was now weakened. One of the turrets didn’t have the benefit of kinetic shields anymore.
“Scratch two more wee ones,” Walter said, “We’re a couple of minutes from being swarmed.”
“Their capital ships no longer have a line of sight on us. We are out of range of their guns now.”
John nodded, “Good, Barbara, kill the main engines and flip us around. I don’t want the mosquitos pecking at our drives. Use maneuvering thrusters to keep us on course.”
“We’re going to bleed…” Barbara said as she looked at her console, then reverified what it was she was seeing, “Bloody brilliant, we’re going to use the moon to increase our speed.”
“We’re still bleeding some momentum but it’s a necessary evil. Also, I’d appreciate it if you keep us from beaching the ship though. That might not end well for us,” John said calmly, “Walter, begin picking off the lead ship one after another.”
The crew did as they were told. The Waukesha rolled over. The forward kinetic shields were still not only active but only lightly damaged. None of her shielding arrays had survived unscathed. Proof positive was looking at all the pot markets in her armor plates.
She had survived. But she was still being doggedly pursued. It didn’t seem to matter how many of the diminutive, relatively speaking of course, ships she ended. The swarm seemed to be getting larger and larger.
The lances and laser batteries looked like an automatic rifles with how quickly they were firing off shots. That the lances could still shoot was fairly impressive. That they were still accurate was just another check John had managed to get God to cash. The rail guns were the tried and tested weapon of the day. Her turrets unleashed hell with each volley.
“We’re going to be intercepted in thirty seconds,” Willy said.
“Barbara, what is the ETA for our arrival at the waypoint?”
“Forty-five seconds.”
“Once they overtake us angle our ass end to the moon. Walter, focus all of our fire behind us. Don’t worry about the ships that overtake us,” John paused, “And if they get in tight make sure the VIs will use our point defense weapons against them.”
“Uh, sure, captain. But we are going to have to deal with the swarm that overtakes us.”
“Please follow my orders,” John almost sighed as he remained stoic in his chair.
Thirty seconds later the swarm of corvettes and shuttles from the pirates finally overtook the Waukesha. True to his orders, the ship reoriented itself using its maneuvering thrusters. It kept the weakest part of the ship facing the moon. While there was a fair amount of space between it and the surface of the barren moon, none of the pirates had opted for that intercepting route.
But in overtaking the Waukesha, the small ships were bruised and battered. The kill total continued to increase with every volley fired. Walter, and his VI, were deadly accurate. They were firing weapons designed to take on other cruisers and frigates. The caliber of the weapons was akin to using a bazooka to go deer hunting.
“There’s no kill like overkill,” John said quietly as he watched one ship after another be eliminated from the tactical display.
“Our K/D ratio is out-fucking-standing,” Walter said with a menacing glee from his weapons station.
“The problem is they can slow us down enough for…” Ingrid smiled and let out a deep breath of relief.
An unholy amount of incoming fire was directed at the pirates from ahead of them. Fifty of the pirate vessels that were pursuing them were instantly deleted. What was once a swarm had been drastically reduced. Almost as if a semi drove through the swarm.
“Tessa, please give the Orlando and her squadron my, and our, thanks,” John said as he stood up, “Walter, I don’t want to see those gnats around us anymore.”
“Eliminating the bugs, captain.”
“Barbara, all ahead full. Take us to the shipyard. It’s time to begin duct tape repairs. We’re going back at them soon.”
“How in the hell did you know they’d be there?” Ingrid asked incredulously.
John smiled as he exhaled, “I sent them a message when they bugged out. Kinda figured we’d need some backup just in case. How badly banged up is the ship?”
Awkward grunting could be heard from the rear of the bridge. John looked back at Willy as he saw his operations officer shake his head. He looked at his operation's officer and waited, somewhat impatiently, for an answer to his inquiry.
“We properly beat to hell, an impressive amount of superficial damage too. We’ll need to replace at least half, if not more, of our armor plates when we get back home. We really need to replace two of them before we set off again,” Willy said.
“Yeah, we’re probably going to need to weld some ablative patches over the dinged-up areas,” John said.
“No, starboard plate Bravo-Two-Two-One is no more. It literally doesn’t exist anymore,” Willy said, “Speaking frankly sir, we were a pubic hair away from being crippled ourselves.”
“Only today will I accept being lucky more than being good,” John said, “Coordinate with the shipyard, we need to replace that. I also want patches placed anywhere we can on our ablative armor.”
“All of our lances are in need of replacing. And our primary drive cone. And good god, our shields are a fucking mess, sir.”
The swarm of pirate ships was killed by the last ship. None escaped the wrath of the Confederates. While they did technically retreat, the Confederate forces lost a grand total of thirteen militia corvettes. None of the capital ships of the proper Navy were lost. Every last ship suffered some form of damage though. And munitions were now running low. The pirates lost all but four of their initial fleet. And lost a quarter of all their small ships in the attempt to cripple the Waukesha.
Was it a victory or failure? They drew breath and their ship could fight on, after some minor repairs. John didn’t care how the history books, or Fleet Command, would label this battle. They inflicted a grievous wound on the pirates. But the fight wasn’t over, the Icarus still drew breath. They needed to get back into the fight and end things, once and for all.